Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [63]
"Sorry, I can't. I'm meeting someone here in a few minutes."
"Your choice."
Cameron clicked his teeth together. Ann would understand. "Let me make a quick phone call."
"I'll be outside. If you're not standing beside me in two minutes, I'll assume you don't want to talk."
"I'll be there."
Finally. Taylor Stone was going to grab a can opener and let the beans spill.
As Cameron walked out, he spied Kirk Gillum and a woman sitting at the bar.
"How's your search going, Mr. Vaux?"
"Not a lot of progress, but I'm still looking."
"Good for you." Kirk took a drink of what looked like scotch and soda. "Listen. I'm sorry about the day we met if I was a little rude. I've been burned, you understand."
"No problem."
"I hope the book fairy tale comes true for you, and you find what you're looking for."
Cameron frowned. "I thought you were one of Jason's followers."
"I am, and the idea of the book is real. But the book isn't real. Do you understand?"
"Yeah." But he didn't understand. If Jason was pushing the book as genuine to his disciples, why wouldn't Kirk support that belief? And why did he care what Cameron believed?
Kirk turned back to the bar. "Take care, Mr. Vaux."
The inside of Taylor's Toyota Tundra matched the outside. Spotless. It didn't have that new car smell but looked like it should.
Neither man spoke as they pulled into traffic and headed for the east side of town. As the Three Peaks High School football field came into view, Taylor broke the silence. "I bled and danced on that field. Three golden years. Even had a few scouts send me letters, small college only, nothing impressive, but I did love the game."
"I understand you were pretty decent at basketball too."
"I see you've been conversing with Arnold Peasley."
Cameron smiled and nodded.
"That there?" Taylor pointed to an old mechanics shop with a 1912 Model T Ford sitting out front. "That's where Mr. Gowner taught me to tweak on cars till they purred like well-fed tabby cats.
"Look at those freestone peach trees over to your left. Tending to them was my first summer job. Thirteen years old and they told me to plant them in perfect rows. From smooth tender shoots to hardened, twisted peach trees in forty-five short years." Taylor sighed.
"Kind of like you, huh?"
Taylor jammed his forefinger at Cameron. "Watch it, punk."
"I've heard it said confessing to a stranger is often easier than those closest to you."
"For some. Am I about to be glad or regretful that I don't know you?"
Cameron propped his elbow on the open window and laughed.
"What? You think if you confess something to me, I'll be obligated to reveal one of the dark secrets you imagine I carry?" Taylor said.
"Something like that."
"First, I don't have any secrets, dark or otherwise. Second, I'm not in the habit of confessing to anyone. Nice try."
Cameron watched the river bordering the highway churn and pummel its rocky bank. "After my wife Jessie died, I did my job every day, never missed work, but I was drunk every minute for six months."
Taylor glanced at him. "Did you wind up taking a ride on the alcohol-addiction wagon?"
"No, I suppose I just wasn't made that way. I never had to have it, but I sure wanted it. If I'd gone by the AA definition, I was a full-blown member of the drinking consignetti. But when I stopped, I quit cold turkey, no temptation to overindulge again."
"What made you hit the brakes?"
"Almost making my car into a toaster oven with me inside. And I knew it would break Jessie's heart to see me that way. My dad's too. I vowed to them I'd never drink again."
"Oh, really? You think they see you from the great beyond?"
"I'm an agnostic, not an atheist." Cameron put on his sunglasses. "So I don't know what's out there. Sometimes I think I feel her, feel my dad. Spirit world, heaven, maybe they're there right here now. I wish I knew for sure."
"Me too."
Cameron cocked his head. "I thought you were a God person."
"I am. That doesn't mean doubts don't sometimes worm their way into my mind." Taylor pulled