Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [124]
Letting go wasn't letting go of her. It was releasing himself to live whatever life he had left, with whatever memories he could hold on to. Even if there wasn't a Book of Days, it didn't matter. Even if there was no direct portal into the mind and heart of God, telling of the past and what the future would bring, it was still the perfect place to choose freedom.
The lake was glass. No ripple, not a hint of wind. The mirror image of the surrounding peaks and wispy clouds was so brilliant, the images seemed more real than what it reflected.
Cameron glanced across at Taylor, then back into the lake. He saw why Taylor had convinced himself that the pool gave visions of what was recorded in the heavens. The presence he'd felt in this valley was real, and it was a place he could imagine God speaking.
Cameron drew back his arm—held it still for a moment—then flung the stone toward the center of the lake as hard as he could. It arced across the sky, a black dot against the sun, then fell in slow motion toward the water, almost seeming to stop before it melted into the deep and disappeared.
Once again the ripples faded almost instantly, and the lake returned to its reflection of a perfect mirror image of the craggy peaks and cobalt sky above him.
"Always love, Jessie. Always and forever."
Suddenly an image appeared on the surface of the water. Cameron's heart surged.
What?
The clouds and mountains vanished, replaced by a 1965 Mustang driving along a wet street, its lights ramming into a pounding rain. It was daylight, but the rain buried the scene in a blanket of gray.
Cameron staggered forward and braced himself against a tiny pine tree.
It seemed so real. The clarity was better than HDTV could ever hope for.
Jessie?
But it wasn't her Mustang, was it? No, Jessie's was different.
"Taylor, get over here!"
The view zoomed in from a wide shot where Cameron saw the street and the car to a close-up of the driver who seemed to be singing.
It wasn't Jessie.
It was . . .
Ann?
It couldn't be. The driver wore a tie-dyed T-shirt with every color of the rainbow and a scarf straight out of the seventies. Not Ann, the hair was too dark. But the eyes, the nose, the shape of her mouth, so similar . . .
He glanced at Taylor jogging toward him, now only ten yards away. Cameron kept his eyes on the image as he heard Taylor's footsteps thud up to him. "Look."
Taylor struggled for air, would have sprawled onto his backside if Cameron hadn't steadied him.
"Annie," he whispered. "It's my Annie."
Annie's diamond ring flashed as she took a corner, her hands smoothly turning the wheel, then reaching to adjust the radio. She flipped her hair back and joined in with whatever song she'd switched to. The light ahead of her was green and the car sped up.
As she reached the intersection, the scene slowed and the view pulled back. A station wagon plowed into the intersection to Annie's left.
She looked to her left—her face full of fear—and slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.
The scene slowed further as the look on Annie's face turned to one of wonder.
Her smile seemed to fill the lake, then her head fell back and laughter poured out of her.
She nodded once to whatever she was seeing and turned to look up, seemingly out of the lake as if searching for someone, light radiating from her face.
"It's time. Don't hold on. Let me go."
Cameron could read her lips. He didn't hear the words, maybe Taylor did. It didn't matter. They were as clear as if they'd been shouted.
Annie smiled, closed her eyes, then slowly opened them. "I love you, Taylor Stone." She closed her eyes for a second time and didn't open them again.
Just before the station wagon smashed into the Mustang, the image faded back into the surface of the water.
"Taylor?"
Taylor looked through him, as if he was still seeing Annie talking to him, and staggered backward, his eyes watering, his hands groping out behind him as though he might fall at any second.
He turned and found a pine tree to lean against as he gasped