Book of Days: A Novel (30 page)

He'd heard you could know a person more intimately after looking into their eyes for thirty seconds without speaking than you could in an hour of conversation. After the half minute was up, he agreed.

"Let's get off this rock."

They sat at the base of the cliff in silence, the only sound was Ann's deep breaths in concert with his own.

The adrenaline had stopped pumping fifteen minutes ago, but perspiration still seeped through his shirt. His legs twitched and his arms felt like they'd been shot up with a triple dose of Novocain.

"Do you want to talk?"

Ann shook her head, her eyes moist.

Without thinking Cameron scooted next to her, put his arms around her shoulders, and drew her in. Ann pressed in hard against his chest without hesitation and sobbed.

"It's okay . . . it's okay." Cameron stroked her hair and repeated the phrase over and over. He didn't know what else to say. After a few minutes her tears stopped but she didn't move. He pulled her in closer and kissed the top of her head.

The chattering of a squirrel filled the late morning air.

Something about the sound brought peace, and Cameron took his first breath that didn't feel like a gasp for air. After a few more minutes he glanced at his watch. They'd been off the mountain for over an hour. Why did it feel like minutes?

"Ann, talk to me."

She stirred and mumbled something.

"What?"

"Don't leave me."

"I'm right here." He squeezed her tight as her tears came again. "Right here."

Twenty minutes went by without any movement from Ann. She could have been asleep. Cameron wouldn't have cared if twenty years went by. Something about sitting here, holding Ann was very right. Very good. Very true.

Did she think the same?

After another five minutes she stirred, stood, and walked a short distance away. Her auburn hair rose and fell on the breeze slaloming through the trees, and her climbing clothes accentuated her figure. If her hair were darker and she were a little shorter, it could be Jessie standing there.

When Ann finally turned back, her tears were dry and she gave a slight smile. "Thank you."

Her simple thanks filled him.
Anytime. I'm here.

Cameron fired up his MINI Cooper and turned to Ann. "Was that written in God's book? Before it happened, was it written down?"

"Yes."

"So God gives us no choice. What is, is."

"Choice is God's greatest gift to us, Cameron."

"If it's already carved in stone, how is that possible?"

"It's not in stone, and I'm guessing God's book operates a little differently than ours." Ann gathered up her hair and put a scrunchie around it. "We chose to climb that cliff today. Our choice. No one else's. It wasn't some preordained plan that we had no part in."

"Do you mind if we have a soundtrack for our conversation?" Cameron pulled onto the road and slid a Jack Johnson CD into his player.

"Good call, H."

Cameron glanced at her. "H?"

"Did you ever see that movie
K2?
It was about these two climbing buddies. One of the guys was named Harold. So his partner called him 'H,' and was always saying, 'Good call, H!'"

"Good movie?"

"It was all right."

Ann leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. It seemed so natural for her to sit next to him. Maybe God should keep writing this chapter.

"Listen," he said, "if we say for a moment this Book of Days is real—was that whole thing we just went through together on the cliff written down ahead of time? Before it ever happened?"

Ann didn't answer and he glanced at her again. She opened her eyes and frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just asked me that."

"What?"

"You just asked me virtually the same question two minutes ago."

He bit both sides of his tongue with his back teeth. He couldn't lose it now. His mind had been doing better the past few days. "Sorry, I'm a little stressed still. A lot stressed."

"Is your memory loss getting worse?"

Cameron clenched the steering wheel and ignored the vise grip around his stomach. "It's getting better."

When they reached Three Peaks, Cameron said, "I hope the emergency room isn't crowded."

"What?"

"You're getting that head looked at. You were out cold."

"I told you I'm fine. I meant it."

Cameron shook his head.

"Really, I've been knocked out before. If I had a concussion, it would have shown up by now."

"Even if I let you talk me out of going to the hospital, there's no way I'm letting you stay by yourself tonight."

Ann touched the bruise on her head and sighed. "So what do you suggest? Have me sleep next to the night manager in the lobby of my hotel?"

"You can do that?"

"Funny."

It was a good question. Neither of them knew anyone in town well enough—Cameron grabbed his iPhone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Cameron. Would you be willing to have a mildly injured houseguest overnight tonight? She's very well mannered."

"What happened? Is it Ann?"

"We had a bit of an adventure during our climb today, and Ann got a head injury—"

"It's a bump, not an 'injury.'" Ann whacked Cameron on the arm.

"Is she okay?"

"I think she's fine. But I don't want her by herself tonight."

"I'd love to have her; I've wanted to meet her for a long, long time."

"Thanks, Susan." Cameron hung up. "Done."

"What'd she say?"

"She's wanted to meet you for a long time."

Ann frowned. "What does she mean by that? I just got here a few days ago."

"You should ask her."

"Will she tell me?"

"I doubt it." Cameron smiled. "She's good with secrets. But if she opens up, ask her about your mom's photo."

"That would go over well." Ann laughed. "I'll find out what I can. And we'll meet up tomorrow?"

"I'll call you as soon as I'm done seeing Arnold."

"Find me something good, okay?" She winked at him and Cameron winked back.

He dropped her off at Susan's, then gazed at the front door long after it shut behind Ann. Find her something good? If Cameron's suspicions were right, he would find her something
very
good in Peasley's mountainous piles of newspaper.

CHAPTER 27

Tricia Stone strained to draw back her bowstring till the pulleys kicked in and made the final few inches easy. Just like life. Always a tipping point where the perseverance paid off.

She concentrated on her target, a root beer can hanging by a string from a pine tree forty yards away. The air was still as it often was in the middle of the day, and the only noise was the occasional call of a Wilson's Warbler that had settled behind her. No one to bother her. No one to interrupt her scattered thoughts. It was strange that she'd developed this passion for shooting arrows into pop cans or pinecones or plastic milk cartons in the middle of the woods.

Not the expected hobby of a middle-aged empty nester, and friends teased her about it. Some called her Robin Hood, at least none of them called her Friar Tuck. Taylor never teased her. He even encouraged her practice, but then he had his own target practice: fly-fishing.

Here she knew the answers, or if she didn't, it's where she could find them and fix the flaws.

As the pop can rotated slowly to the left, the sun hit it and flashed into her eyes. She blinked, then closed her eyes and saw the can in her mind.

Breathe in. Now hold it. Focus. See the can. Trust your instinct. Right there. Focus deeper. Release.

The arrow sang through the air, and Tricia didn't open her eyes till she heard the tip of the arrow rupture the can with a screech.

"Impressive shot."

Tricia whirled around to see who had spoken. There was no one. Wait. Over to the left, halfway behind a large pine. Jason Judah. "Thanks for sneaking up on me."

"No, I didn't do that." He rose from the boulder he'd been sitting on and ambled toward her. "I found you right as you started your routine. I didn't want to disturb."

Tricia glared at him trying to convey that's exactly what he'd done.

He didn't pick up on the hint. Or more likely he did and ignored it. "Mind if I join you for a few minutes?"

"Yes."

"We haven't talked just the two of us for years have we now? Hmm?"

Tricia half walked, half jogged to the can she'd just lanced to get her arrow. She didn't trust Jason. She'd never trusted him. And given his erratic history with Taylor, her heart pounded with the thought that they were miles from anyone.

Before she was halfway back, Jason called out, "What does Taylor know about the book?"

"What do you want?"

"To know what Taylor knows. Do you think he'd be willing to lead me to it?"

"That's a ridiculous question, Judah." She shuffled back up to her shooting spot and started packing her bow and arrows into a forest green bag.

"You know you're the only one who still calls me by my last name?" Jason laughed. "Did you know that?" He paused and leaned back against one of the pines surrounding them.