Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [18]
"So you don't have those feelings anymore?"
"No." Ann, you are such a liar.
"I'm only going to say this because you're one of my closest friends. I can tell when you're lying."
"Well, this time you're wrong." She slung her briefcase strap over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'll be fine."
"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't at least tell you to be careful?"
"I'm always careful."
"I know." Drew stood, walked through the doorway, and said over his shoulder, "Be extra careful this time, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."
Neither did she. But it wouldn't be easy.
Hearing Cameron's voice and having the old feelings surge to the surface was bad enough. Now she'd have to be around him for a week or more.
Why had God stuck him back in her life? Even if Cameron caught a clue and realized how she felt, she could never let herself get involved with him.
Add in the possibility that Jessie's book was real, and she had a recipe for severe psychosis. How many times had she teased Jessie about that fantastical story? Probably every day after they ended up together in the Busby's foster home.
Ann strode out of her office, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks.
She had the feeling this adventure would wrack more nerves than any on-air story she'd ever done.
CHAPTER 6
Cameron rang Arnold Peasley's doorbell as he examined the chipped pea-green paint on the siding determined to get answers. He wouldn't let Arnold shut him down as fast as Kirk Gillum.
Ten seconds later the door swung open and a spry man wearing a plaid long-sleeved shirt and an ancient-looking pair of Adidas sweatpants stood in front of him. He held a worn basketball under his arm.
"Arnold Peasley?"
"Yep."
"My name is Cameron—"
"I know precisely who you are." Arnold tapped his foot double-time on the faded hardwood floor in his entryway. "Gillum said you'd be coming by to converse with me about Three Peak's history."
Arnold led Cameron through a six-foot-tall corridor of stacked newspapers bound with twine. Piles of papers lined every wall.
"Quite a collection of newspapers you have there."
"I keep telling myself I should toss 'em, but I consider myself the town's unofficial historian, and a newspaper is the best history you can have. Books have a tendency to filter out all the interesting details." Arnold ran his fingers through his hair three times in rapid succession.
"Don't they have microfiche of all these papers?"
"Oh, probably, but there's nothing like having the real McCoy, you know what I'm saying? I think you do." Arnold stopped in front of two rocking chairs, only a few patches of varnish still on them, sat, and motioned for Cameron to do the same.
A few moments later Arnold smacked the arms of his chair three times and popped back to his feet. He strode toward the kitchen dribbling his basketball. "Come along, Cameron; don't just sit there."
He smiled to himself and followed his host.
"I do know the history around here," Arnold said over his shoulder, "so fire away. What would you like to know?"
Everything. No point in being subtle; he needed answers now. "Before my dad died, he told me about a book with all the days in it. Does that mean anything to you?"
Peasley stood in front of the refrigerator dribbling the basketball. "Why should I tell you?"
"Because I—"
"Can you take the time to explain what the book has to do with finding out about the history of Three Peaks?"
"I'm not—"
"You're not really here to find out the broader history of our town, are you?" Peasley glared at him as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
Cameron sighed. "No, I'm not."
Peasley squinted at him as if he were studying a map, deciding on the best route to his destination. "Since you've come clean with me, I'll be fairly transparent with you. Yes, I know exactly what you're talking about."
"And?" Cameron raised an eyebrow.
"I said fairly transparent. Not fully. There's a couple of people to talk to, but you might want to start with him."
"Him?"