Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [61]
"I want hope."
Susan's eyes misted over as she nodded. "What do you hope for?"
"Unh-uh." He wagged his finger. "My turn again."
Susan bowed her head slightly and opened her palms.
"Is the book real, or just some New Age dream, or some pseudo-scientific concoction like the Oregon Vortex?"
"I suppose many things are possible that we're tempted to say aren't." Susan held his gaze for a few seconds before looking down. "But I do believe there is a book in heaven—God's book—in which He has recorded each man and woman's life."
"What do you mean—?" Cameron cut himself off. "It's your turn."
"Go on. Ask. The question game is a silly one, only fun for the first few minutes, don't you think?"
"Jason said the Book of Days exists on a spiritual plane that he claims he's tapped into. Is that what you mean?"
"No."
A quiet confidence played in Susan's eyes.
"You think there is a God, and you think that He records every moment of every life? Even future events?"
She didn't hesitate. "Without question."
"You're saying you know it absolutely to be true?"
"People who claim to know there is a God and those who claim to know there isn't a God are more similar than either side would like to admit. I believe, yes, but do I know? For certain?" Susan shook her head, a gentle smile on her face. "No one can with 100-percent certainty, Cameron. Not till our days on earth end. So while I will be surprised if that book isn't in heaven, I won't know definitively till I get there."
A hummingbird hovered near Susan's feeder full of sugar water, flitting back and forth as if wondering if Cameron could be trusted. Finally it began to drink, but only for a few moments before streaking away again.
"That bird is the only species that can stay in one spot as it flies. The speed with which it moves its wings is mind boggling, up to ninety times per second. Some would say that ability came after millions of years of adaptation; others would unequivocally state the hummingbird is proof of intelligent design."
Cameron shifted and crossed his legs. "Which is it?"
"Man has longed to touch the infinite—or explain Him away—ever since Adam and Eve left the garden. In the end, as I suggested earlier, it comes down to what you choose to believe."
"Susan . . ." Cameron paused. The look on her face was not one of pity, but of longing. For what he couldn't tell. But it wasn't for herself. It was for him. "Thank you, once again, for your time and your wisdom."
She leaned forward and took both his hands in hers. "Let me say, for me, the critical question is not whether God's Book of Days is here on earth or in heaven, but if it does exist, what kind of lives are we recording in it?"
As he stood and contemplated Susan's musings, the hummingbird returned, not hesitating to drink more of the nectar, even though Cameron had leaned closer to the feeder.
"I have always celebrated men and women with passion, and I see you have passion." Susan smiled and her head fell back. "The path life takes us down isn't always where we would choose to go, but in the end, it is possible to wind up where we wanted to be anyway."
He wanted his brain back. Was that possible?
CHAPTER 23
He set the seven bullets on the mantel above his fireplace three inches apart and watched the light from his candles dance on their copper tips. Seven was the number of perfection. But he wouldn't need that many.
One for Cameron.
One for Stone.
Banister? Maybe. He grinned and set her picture next to ones of Taylor and Cameron already on the mantel. Probably.
He slid his knife out of its sheath and licked the blade. Nothing like the taste of steel. Unless it had a bit of flavoring. He smiled again. Maybe he'd do it that way. Time would enlighten as to the best method.
After placing the knife to the right of the bullets, he settled onto his leather couch, closed his eyes, and opened himself to the universe.
Soon, it told him, and