Book Of Days_ A Novel Part 40

Here there would be no distractions. Nowhere for Taylor to walk away to. And Cameron had written down the details of what they'd found under The Sail & Compa.s.s the night before, so if he needed to be reminded of anything, he could access it in an instant.

By six o'clock they'd tied their first flies and Taylor had coached him on the fluid back and forth motion needed to cast correctly. The hole Taylor had chosen was no bigger than a large inner tube. Cameron only hit the spot two times in ten casts, and bites from the brown trout under the translucent water eluded him, but he loved it.

The only sound was the rush of the river as it meandered its way through the stones, and the smooth swish of their rods through the air.

"Slow down," Taylor said, "you're not going to whip the fish into submission by casting like that. Let the fly settle on the water and then take it back up after a two count."

Cameron slowed down.

"Much better."

After he caught and released his first trout, Taylor said, "How many years were you and Jessie married before her accident?"

"Too few." Cameron drew back his rod and made a perfect cast into the hole. "Five."

"You were with her when she died?"

"Yeah." Cameron slogged through the water back to the rocky beach and set his rod down. "All the cliches you hear on the radio and see in the movies were bottled up in her like love-lightning. Being with Jessie was like opening that bottle in every moment."

"I know that love."

"You and Tricia?"

Taylor shook his head. "I love Tricia and don't deserve all the things she's done or tried to do for me." He cast five more times before he continued. "I'm talking about Annie."

Finally he would get the story on Annie.

"Ann was named for her as you know." He stopped casting and drilled Cameron with his eyes. "I'm not sure how I feel about you falling for my niece."

"I'm not falling for her."

Taylor adjusted his U of O hat. "Uh-huh."

Cameron rammed his hands into his back pockets and didn't answer.

"Annie was all grace and toughness. Pretty as all get-out but could run faster than half the boys growing up. Vanis.h.i.+ng from my life almost thirty-three years ago, you'd think my memories would have faded, but Annie was the type you never forget."

Taylor finished releasing the fish he'd just caught and set it back in the river. It spurted away, disappearing downstream. "Of course not being able to let go of her makes for a pretty heavy burden to carry, you know?"

Cameron knew. "How did Annie die?"

"In a car accident." This time Taylor cast eight times. "Like you, I loved the old muscle cars. And I found a favorite. When I looked at the horses under the hood of that beat-up Mustang, I knew I was the one to tame her." Taylor turned and stared at him. "You understand, don't you?"

He nodded.

Taylor yanked back on his rod, a rainbow trout dangling on his line, and pulled it in. "I bought that beauty two summers before the accident happened. That car was my pa.s.sion." Taylor trudged back to sh.o.r.e and set his rod down. "It took me the full two years to restore it. Ran as smooth as a maple seedling twirling to the ground when I was finished."

Taylor stopped talking for so long Cameron thought he'd fallen asleep standing upright. When he spoke again, his voice was like smoke in sunlight, and he could barely make out the words.

"The morning after I'd finished it, I had to go somewhere and Annie asked if she could take the car for a drive. Of course I agreed; I'd restored the car for her."

He sat next to Cameron and rubbed his face. "A 1970 Ford station wagon with three high school juniors inside ran a stop sign going like a whirly-wind and T-boned Annie. They say she probably died instantly."

Cameron shook his head.

"Are you all right?"

"Remember me telling you I restored a '65 Mustang and gave it to Jessie for Christmas one year?"

"I do."

"She only drove it once." He breathed deep and imagined he smelled the water, a pure crystal smell with no imperfections. "On the way to the airstrip. On the day she died."

Taylor put his arm around Cameron's shoulder. "Life is funny the way it puts certain people together, isn't it?"

Taylor stood and waded into the river, the water swirling around his waders. He cast in perfect rhythm, nothing moving except for his right arm.

He was a good man, a friend even, but he'd hidden the truth. It was time to confront the lie. It was time to find out exactly what Taylor knew.

"I want to talk to you about why you created a Book of Days."

"I suppose it's time, isn't it?"

"We found the hidden door."

"I thought you might." Taylor continued casting.

"Why go to all the trouble to create that elaborate set of clues and a false book? Why did you do it?"

"I had to. It was the only way to convince anyone searching for a real book that the Book of Days was only an idea." Taylor glanced back at Cameron. "I expected they would follow the clues I'd laid out, find the symbolic book, and prove to themselves the book didn't really exist. It wouldn't be a good thing for most people to find the real book."

He gathered up his rod and smiled at Cameron. "And then you came along out of nowhere, knocking over apple carts every which way, and tracked the thing down. Well done."

Cameron stared at him. "What did you just say?"

"Yes, I did say 'real book.'"

"Are you telling me-?"

"But as smart as you were, you must extend a great deal of credit to Ann, don't you think? I don't believe you would have gotten where you did without her."

"The book is real?"

"She was an interesting twist to the puzzle." Taylor shook his head. "Having a niece show up after all these years is a definite mind bender."

Taylor turned and sloshed out of the river till he reached a boulder the size of a small ottoman and sat on it. "That stone around your neck, can I see it?"

Strange. Someone else asked to see it recently, hadn't they? "Sure." He lifted it from around his neck and handed the stone to Taylor.

Taylor studied it. "I'd lay odds these markings are Native American."

Suddenly the memory of his climb two days before surged into his mind. "Grange!"

The image of Grange studying the stone just as Taylor had filled his head. The questions about why Cameron wanted to go to the place of stories. The directions ... He'd told Cameron exactly how to find the place. What was it called? Time Stories? The Stories of Time?

"He told me how to find it." His heart beat picked up.

"He must have liked you. And trusted you. He's probably been watching you since you got here." Taylor nodded. "Grange is a good man."

"You know, don't you? You know what they are. The Stories of Time and the Book of Days are the same thing, aren't they?"

"Yes." Taylor handed the stone back to Cameron.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I'm sorry, Cameron, forgive me. I had no choice."

"We always have a choice."

"What did Grange tell you?"

"He said few are chosen to see the stories."

"True."

"And you were one of the chosen." Cameron tossed a rock into the swirling water.

"Yes, to my eternal regret."

"Do you care to explain that?"

"After I found the book, I used it." Taylor slid his reel down to the river rock at his feet. "I used what I saw."

"You're telling me the Stories of Time truly do tell the future?"

Taylor nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I wanted to tell you. I did." Taylor rubbed his face and sighed. "I did try to tell you in my own way."

"When?"

"In the park, when I showed you the arrowhead shadow pointing the way to the book. I've wanted you to find it for a while now."

Oh, wow. The memory swished through his mind. That's right. Taylor had tried to show him.

"But I couldn't go any further than that. I swore I wouldn't ever put someone in the position to go through the regret I've lived with for thirty-three years."

"It all comes back to Annie, doesn't it?"

"I found the book when we'd been married for two years. We had the same type of relations.h.i.+p you and Jessie had." Taylor shook his head. "Perfect. Even after we were married, I loved backpacking through the mountains around here by myself for days at a time. A part of me has always been built for solitude.

"One early morning in July over thirty years ago, I explored an area of the mountains I'd never been to. I came to an opening in the rocks and somehow I stumbled through them to the prettiest slice of earth you'll ever find.

"There it was lying out in front of me like a mirror. As I gazed at it I saw the past, saw the present, then I saw the future. A future where my dad would lose his legs in a logging accident the next afternoon.

"Annie was out of town and I couldn't reach her so I came home and told my sister-in-law about what I'd seen and she never doubted me."

"Ann's mom?"

"Yes."

"She told me I had to save my dad. I agreed." Taylor rubbed his face with both hands. "I was supposed to wait for Annie to get home the next afternoon, but I left her a note saying I'd gone to see my dad.

"So I tried to stop the accident. And I did; my dad never lost his legs. People wondered for years how I knew that tree would fall the wrong way. But what I set in motion..."

Taylor stopped and swallowed as tears seeped onto his cheeks. "What I did caused Annie's death in the moments after my father lived."

"Because she didn't go to Bend with you."

Taylor nodded.

"So you made a book and created a series of clues-"

"I realized if I could create something that people would have to work to find, I could end it right there. In the case of Jason, it worked. I don't think he'll ever figure out ... But you, it seems you're one of the chosen."

Cameron didn't know what to believe. Was it real? Was it another part of Taylor's game?

Taylor turned to him. "You didn't tell me your wife asked you to use the stone to find the book."

Cameron frowned at him.

"You're wondering how I knew?" Taylor said. "Grange told me."

Taylor tossed a rock into the river. "Don't you think it's time to come clean?"

"About what?"

"About why you're forgetting pieces of conversations. About why you didn't start your search for the book right after Jessie died. About why you didn't think her story was more than the jumbled thoughts of a dying woman until three weeks ago."

"Because..." There was no spin he could put on an answer that would satisfy Taylor.

"Why didn't you remember what Grange told you?"

Cameron watched the river rush around and over the rocks, as if it knew exactly where it wanted to go. Where it needed to go.

"I'm losing my mind. My memories flit in and out of my brain like sparrows. Eight years ago my dad died of the disease, and the last thing he asked me to do was to find the book for him. His dying wish. I thought he was talking nonsense.