Book of Days: A Novel (20 page)

CHAPTER 17

The oak door into Taylor's workshop creaked as Tricia opened it just past eight o'clock Sunday morning with one goal pounding through her heart—get her husband to talk. He didn't turn from the crinkled instructions laid out in front of him, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard her come in.

She watched him fiddle with an ancient-looking fly rod, probably from the midfifties, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He hated those glasses. They labeled him as middle-aged plus, which he refused to admit to.

The walls were covered with maps and pictures of hidden rivers and fishing holes that took three days of backpacking through the wilderness to reach. Most of the time Taylor took his trips solo, "to escape" he'd tell her, but what he was escaping from was never clear.

Even though they'd known each other since junior high, he'd never fully opened up to her. He held secrets that she'd learned to accept. But ever since Cameron Vaux had arrived in town, Taylor had been escaping from her emotionally as well. It wasn't like him.

The secrets weren't about another woman or some hidden addiction. Something about Cameron had pushed him into his workshop—or as she liked to call it, his cave—more frequently these past seven days.

"Hello, my wonderful Tricia," he said, his head still buried in the instructions, his hands holding two pieces of the rod together. "The glue should be dry here in another forty seconds or so."

Tricia eased up next to Taylor's workbench and leaned on her elbow. "Let's talk." She waited a few seconds for him to look at her, but he didn't budge. "I know you're doing your caveman want-to-be-alone thing right now, but I need to ask you something."

"I'm not caving; I have to get this done by the weekend."

"Uh-huh." Tricia straightened, turned, and leaned back against the workbench. "Are you going to help this Cameron kid?"

"Help him what?"

She would smack him on the head if it would stop him from playing dumb. "I know you better than you think I do."

"I'm sorry, hon. We've just registered ten pounds on the confusion fish scale. That's two pitches over my head, third strike, yer out."

"You're mixing metaphors."

"I know."

"Look at me, Taylor Stone." She placed her forefinger under his chin and lifted till he looked into her eyes. "I think both pitches hit you right in the heart, sweetie." She let his chin go.

Taylor harrumphed. "In other words you think I know something more about this book business than I'm telling him?" He sat up and pulled off his reading glasses.

"Thank you for stating the obvious."

"What gives you that idea? Yes, David says in the Psalms all his days were recorded in God's book before he was born. He didn't say everyone; he said for himself. And I highly doubt David was describing a physical book that just happened to be plopped down in the good ol' US of A and land in little ol' Three Peaks, Oregon. He was speaking metaphorically about God knowing the past, present, and future because God is omniscient. He wasn't talking about a book you can order on Amazon.com with the click of a button."

"Forgive me. I didn't know the depth of your knowledge when it came to that particular passage of Scripture. I'm sure you can tell me with complete certainty that God would only do that for David and no one else, and that there's no way He created a literal book and placed it somewhere on earth where man might find it."

Taylor shook his head and focused on his fly rod. "It would have to be a pretty big book."

"Since you were the voice of this town for eighteen years, you know more of its secrets than anyone." Tricia folded her arms across her chest and leaned in. "So if there is even a shred of a chance this book is genuine, any real evidence to back up Jason, then you would know it. And you like helping people. So if you try and tell me all you know about the Book of Days is that it's a strange legend and nothing more—"

Taylor spun toward her in his chair and locked his hands behind his head. "So I should just grab a three-cheese pizza with Cameron and hand over whatever knowledge I possess, whether it's garbage or not? Maybe spend a few days brainstorming with him, doing research, hiking in the woods with him looking for this thing since deep down he reminds me of myself and I'm always such a helpful guy?"

Tricia patted his shoulder. "Well said."

"Thank you."

Taylor returned to his fly rod and scraped off a tiny bit of excess glue. Tricia knew he considered the conversation finished, but she didn't. And she could always outlast him in the icy stare-down contest.

He slapped his modeling knife on top of the workbench. "If it's that critical to your happiness, I'll dig through my old notes and see if I can find anything. Okay?"

Tricia whirled, marched out, and didn't look back. Taylor wouldn't be grabbing the trowel anytime soon. Again, it wasn't like him. Finding out why leaped to the top of her mental to-do list.

On Sunday night Cameron drove into Bend to catch a movie and escape his crumbling world. He needed to wrap his mind around something more than the question of whether or not he'd be wrapping his mind around anything at all a few years into the future.

Tomorrow he'd meet Ann, see if she found anything at the library, and decide what to do next.

As he walked through the parking lot toward the theater, a familiar face moved toward him.

Ann.

"Cameron, what a nice surprise." She sashayed up to him and fell into step alongside him.

Was she kidding, or had the truce they'd established on the mountain kicked into effect? "I thought you were going to see that play in Bend."

"I changed my mind."

"I see." Cameron stuck his hands in his pockets and walked faster.

Ann took a few quick strides, then she was next to him, matching his pace. "You're going to a movie?"

Cameron nodded. "Yep."

"By yourself?"

"I think it's the best way to take it in. No distractions, no having to talk to anyone about it till you've had a chance to process it." He glanced at her. "And you're headed . . . ?"

"The same."

"To a movie?"

"Yes."

"By yourself?"

She nodded and smiled.

"And I thought all we had in common was rock climbing and—" Cameron stopped himself. No parents, brothers, or sisters for either of them. Both missing Jessie. Both looking for answers.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Rock climbing," he finished.

The line to buy tickets was long, and Cameron didn't try to break the awkward silence till it had stretched past a minute. "Have you found anything more about your family?"

"I'm getting almost nowhere."

He could relate.

Ann stepped out of line and folded her arms, probably to see why the line was moving so slow. She wore faded Levi's and a dark blue Nike sweatshirt, her hair cascading over it like water.

Beautiful. He locked his hands behind his head and put his chin down.
Stop it!
The feelings were wrong. This is the way to honor Jessie? To remember her? By letting possible emotions for Ann dance around in his head like a tango? He had to get a handle on it.

"Do you want to help me investigate?" She stepped back into line beside him. "The way I see it, we have similar skills. Find the interesting angle to a story whether it's with words or with the lens of a camera. We know how to draw the deeper parts out of a subject or a scene. It's always easier to find the answers with two minds focused on the story. I help you with the book; you help me with my family history. So?"

Great. More time with her. That wouldn't help. But it was fair. "Fine. I'll help."

"Thanks."

Cameron gave Ann a thin-lipped smile and half a nod.

She stepped in line in front of him and whispered over her shoulder, "When can you start helping me?"

"You're up." He motioned toward the cashier window with his eyes.

Ann bought her ticket and eased over to the right as Cameron stepped up to the window. He glanced at her face as he bought a ticket to a different movie. It was blank. If she felt something either way she didn't show it.

He shoved his wallet into his coat and walked with her toward the ten-foot high glass doors leading into the theaters. "What have you uncovered so far?"

"I think my mom was born in Three Peaks and lived here till she was at least a teenager."

He raised both eyebrows, an invitation for her to elaborate.

Ann glanced at her watch. "My movie's starting. Next time I'll give you the gory details." She winked at him, not a flirtatious wink, but certainly playful.

All it took was a truce on the mountain for her to get a personality transfusion?

He watched her till she disappeared into theater number seven, then tapped himself hard on the forehead when she turned back and gave a little wave, as if she knew he'd be watching. He spun on his heel and strode toward theater number two.

Cameron left the theater two hours later. He glanced around the lobby looking for Ann. Why did he do that? Would he ask her to go for ice cream if he found her? Hardly. She was wrong for him, not even close to what he would want because no one could ever take Jessie's place.

He needed to get his mind back on the book. Tomorrow he would take another run at getting Taylor Stone to talk. A hard run.

CHAPTER 18

Ann chose the wrong movie. A romantic comedy was the worst salve possible for a heart aching over a guy she couldn't have. She tried to keep from putting herself onscreen, but it was impossible when the male lead reminded her of the Cameron she knew before Jessie died.

When the lead started to throw away his collection of classic baseball cards to prove his love—with a smile on his face—Ann laughed and cried at the same time. That scene was Cameron personified.

And she would have stopped him just like the scene played out onscreen.

After the closing credits, Ann strode out the theater with her head down. "Get out of my heart, Cameron!"

A couple walking out of the theater with her tried to hide their laughter.

She turned her head toward them. "I'm thinking about the classic girl-loves-boy-but-there's-no-way-they-can-ever-be-together-but she wants-to-be-more-than-anything storyline."

"And you're the girl?" the woman asked.

She was the girl.