Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [53]
"Nice thought."
"If it's true, He must have to take a big spiritual eraser to those parts of your amazing Book of Days."
"Industrial-strength eraser." Cameron smiled.
"Annie would have forgiven me for what I did to her. In an instant. My head says that. But my heart . . ."
It was the third time Taylor had mentioned Annie. Cameron couldn't help asking again, "Who is Annie?"
"I've said way too much. Waaay." Taylor took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he propped his elbow on his knee and spun the window crank again, faster this time. When he finished, they sat in silence for a long time.
Finally Taylor said "Here" and handed the crank to Cameron, as if it were a gem-encrusted dagger.
"Who did it be—?"
"Belonged to me. Off a car of mine." Tears threatened to spill onto Taylor's cheeks. Cameron couldn't be sure if Taylor's tears came from the pain of the sunlight flashing off the crank into his eyes or from remembering. Maybe both.
"When something you would die for is destroyed by the hand of another, you can almost learn to live with it. When you do the destroying yourself, it's impossible."
Exactly. Almost learn to live with it. And the part that remained was brutal. "What was destroyed?"
"Cameron . . ." Taylor stood and offered his hand. Cameron took it and found himself yanked to his feet with a surprising strength. "Tricia asked me to talk to you about some things I know about. But I can't. It's nothing against you. You're a good man, and we have some things in common. More than I thought. But some things are meant to be sealed forever. Do you understand?"
Taylor strode into his house without waiting for an answer, without looking back. The screen door smacked shut with a sound like the blast from a .22.
Cameron stared at the door and took two steps backward. He had the sensation of being watched and looked toward the upstairs windows. Tricia Stone gazed down at him, her face expressionless. Then she slowly mouthed the words I'm sorry before turning away.
As Cameron made his way back to his car, he ran his hands through his hair. The scene in Taylor's backyard was another confirmation that the man was in the thick of the Book of Days' mystery, but prying that door open would take a crowbar the size of Paul Bunyan's ax. So be it.
But Cameron hoped the crowbar wouldn't break before the door opened.
After leaving Taylor's house, Cameron headed for the mountains and did a climb rated a 4.5. It wasn't technically difficult, just a good workout. The air was absolute crystal, something Seattle's skies still aspired to, but they didn't reach this level of purity.
As he gazed out over the trees below, he pulled out the stone Susan Hillman had given him and watched the sun bounce off its surface.
He turned it over slowly in a continual motion, studying the intricate pattern the red sparkles made. It was like a map. A treasure map. Yeah, right. Wouldn't that be nice? When he was a kid—eleven, maybe twelve—he'd made a treasure map and hidden it in his fort, twenty feet up in the maple tree in his backyard. He looked at Susan's stone again. A map to the Book of Days? If only it were that easy.
Maybe it wasn't a map; maybe it was a road sign. On impulse he snatched his cell phone out of his climbing pack.
"Hello?" said a low, booming voice.
"Hey, Scotty, it's Cameron."
"Who?"
"Cameron Vaux. In college we—"
Laughter. "I'm just messing with you, man. I'd know your voice even after four and a half years of silence, which, by the way, it's almost been."
"Sorry."
"Why?"
"I, uh . . ."
"Shut up, Cameron. My fingers can dial too. Hang on a second." The sound of Bono singing "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" in the background snapped off.
Cameron snorted out a laugh. The timing of the song would be much funnier if he wasn't the butt of the joke.
"Okay, tell me what you want."
He smiled. When it came to geology, few were better than Scotty. When it came to tact, no one was worse. He wouldn't be able to look up subtle in a dictionary for a thousand bucks and Cameron