Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [14]
"You're killing me, Cam."
"I have to go now."
"You already said that." Brandon sighed and pulled up a calendar on his computer. "How long?"
"A week, maybe two."
"This be July 19." Brandon pointed to the date on his computer monitor and then moved his finger down two weeks. "This be August 2. You gotta be back at de veddy, veddy latest by that date, cool?"
"It'll probably be sooner than that. I just want to see if there's anything of my dad's history there that will explain how Jessie and he ended up talking about the same . . ."
"How Jessie and he ended up talking about the same what?"
Cameron dug the nail of his forefinger into his thumb. He needed to be careful. He wasn't ready to tell Brandon what was going on. He had hardly come to terms with it himself. "I need some space on this one. Okay?"
"You got it. No worries."
No worries? Right. They were the only thing filling his mind.
An hour later Cameron checked to make sure his mountain bike was securely mounted on top of his MINI Cooper, then slipped behind the wheel. He tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat on top of a couple of books on Central Oregon history and buckled up.
The backseat was stuffed with his laptop, video camera, clothes, and climbing gear: ropes, carabineers, tapered wedges, SLCDs, harnesses, shoes, and chalk. Always lots of chalk, so he wouldn't slip. Climbing safe meant climbing in control. No emotion, only execution.
Even the adrenaline rush that coursed through him when he climbed wasn't emotion. It was a drug, an endorphin high that buried his pain. A way to keep the loss of Jessie at bay for at least a few hours. And a way to be close to her at the same time.
His mind shifted to Ann. She had finally relented and agreed to meet him, saying she'd been meaning to come to Three Peaks anyway on a personal matter. She would arrive in Three Peaks in a couple days but could only stay for a week at the most. Fine with him. All he needed was a little help.
He fired up his car and headed south on I-5 toward Oregon. Wispy clouds moved across the sky, covering and uncovering a brilliant sun framed by a sapphire sky. That old sixties song nailed it: the bluest skies were in Seattle. He glanced at his dashboard temperature gauge. Seventy-seven degrees. A perfect summer day.
He'd read that depressed people killed themselves more often on sunny days. They were supposed to feel better when the sun was out. When they didn't, any remaining hope died, and so did they.
He'd traveled that road hundreds of times in his imagination. When Jessie died, the idea shoved its way into his mind at least a few times a day.
The blackness had tried to draw him in. It invited him to a place with no pain, no emotions, no longings—nothing but sweet relief from despair, so thick every day felt like he was slogging through waist-high tar.
The past year had been better. His mind said ending his life wasn't the answer, even if his heart continued to argue back.
These days whenever the dark thoughts surfaced, he shoved them underwater till they drowned.
He shouldn't worry about it. If he ever got serious about the idea again, Jessie would probably swoop down from heaven or wherever she was, stop him and say, "How can you think about destroying your life? You have a destiny. One that no other life can fill. Live free, Aragorn."
A king that loses his mind. Yeah, what a great tale that would be.
"Where are you, Jessie? Are you and Dad together? My heart is so barren without the two of you."
Cameron pulled into Three Peaks late that afternoon looking for Dream It, Do It Hardware, the place he'd get his first shot at finding answers.
A hair salon anchored the corner of the first building. Midway down the street was Bronco & Buster's Grill & Saloon and a sporting goods store with rubber canoes out front and a basket of clearance items spread out on the sidewalk.
On the other side was Palino's Pizza, the town hall,