by James Rubart
"Thanks." They sat in silence for a minute, and it seemed to fill a dark corner of his heart with light, if only slightly. "My dad said when he was a kid, he saw a book that showed him the past and the future. Do you know anything about that?"
Susan stared into Cameron's eyes, then looked down and smoothed her forest green shorts. "I haven't thought about that for years, but I do remember a few things. Wow. Funny how it's stayed with me." She tilted her head back and scanned the ceiling, as if she would find what to say etched on its surface.
"Boscoe and Big Boss were involved in this group called Indian Guides, and they'd go on all these hikes and adventures together. Every Monday morning at lunchtime in the school's orange cafeteria, Little Boss would report what they'd done and where they'd gone.
"Well, after one of their weekend hikes, he started acting all closed up and wouldn't talk to me or anyone else. After a few weeks of that I finally asked him, 'Why are you being so quiet all of a sudden?' or something like that. He poked his straw up and down in his chocolate milk and said, 'I know when I'm going to die.'
"It was a strange thing to say coming from a nine-year-old kid, and I didn't know how to respond. Then he said, 'When I grow up I'm going to have a son and I know things about him too.' I laughed but Little Boss just kept staring at his milk carton.
"I asked him where he saw these things, but all he would say is, 'I don't know if I could find it again. Maybe I dreamed it all up.'"
"We never talked about it after that. Back then I thought he was making up stories, but over the years I've often wondered what he saw. Looking back with an adult's perspective, he certainly believed he saw this book you're looking for."
Cameron shuddered. His dad had seen something. Maybe he was just a kid, but what he saw had changed him. "I have to find that book."
"Why is this book so important to you, Cameron?"
"My dad said I needed to find it to understand."
"Understand what?"
"What would happen to me. Or what is happening to me. What he thinks he saw."
"And what is that?"
Cameron stared at Susan Hillman. Wisps of her brown hair hung over her eyes. This was a woman it would be easy to slide into friendship with, a woman he'd be tempted to spill his guts to. "I'm not sure."
"I see." And by the way she looked at him, it seemed Susan truly did see.
"Are you hoping that if you find this book Little Boss spoke of, it will give your life meaning?"
"No." Cameron held his breath and looked away, as if turning could deflect the question. How could he tell her he had to find the book because he was scared he was losing his mind and he was hoping his dad was right and the book would cure him?
How could he describe losing his memories of Jessie and tell how he would try anything to get them back? How he was terrified of ending up like his dad, talking about nothing and everything mixed up into a mess the best linguists in the world couldn't decipher? How he'd promised his father he'd search for a book that probably only existed in his dad's mind and Jessie's imagination?
Susan looked at him with compassion. "I had a son about your age. Are you thirty-four? Thirty-five?"
"Thirty-three." Cameron shifted in his seat. "Had?"
Susan nodded as she brushed back her hair. "I'd like to offer you a stone."
Interesting. Susan understood loss but didn't want to talk about it. Part of him didn't want to talk about Dad and Jessie, but she had a choice. He didn't. "Offer a what?"
She reached over and opened an old dark mahogany cabinet sitting next to the front door and brought out a bowl made of stained glass. It was full of rocks, all polished to a brilliant shine.
"This one is pretty." Susan picked a piece of jade. "I found it myself. I let it scuttle around in the polisher with all that fine sand working on it, rubbing off the rough spots, for three straight weeks." She handed him the bowl and he set it on his knees.
"You know more about the book, don't you? Will you tell me what it is?"
"Pick a stone, Cameron. To keep." Susan grabbed the edge of the dish and rattled the stones inside it.
He settled on a flat stone the color of crème brûlée streaked with black lines. Peppered along the lines were tiny red specks, connecting them, making it look like constellations of another world.
It made him think of Jessie's stone. His hand pressed against his chest and felt it under his shirt. For a moment he thought about telling Susan about the stone. Not yet. It wasn't time.
"That stone is a good choice." A pleased, almost joyful look passed over Susan's face. "A very, very good choice. Do you know where I found it?" She spoke as if talking directly to the stone. "Right here. In Three Peaks. I've never seen another like it."
She nodded twice and stood. Cameron took his cue and walked toward her porch steps. "So will you tell more about the book?"
Susan smiled and patted his arm. "You're a good man, Cameron. Keep hope, always hold on to hope."
Cameron jammed his notepad into his back pocket, clomped down Susan's stairs and toward his car. He did have hope mixed in with a full helping of discouragement. Cryptic answers was all he was getting. He didn't have time for Three Peaks' version of Where's Waldo. He needed answers before his mind went on permanent hiatus.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
A man clipped along the sidewalk directly across from Susan's house.
Who? . . . Gillum, it was Kirk Gillum.
"Hey, Kirk." Cameron gave a quick flick of his hand in greeting. "As you've probably guessed, I just met with Susan. Thanks again for the introduction."
Gillum nodded in return and kept walking.
A little more of that mayoral warmth to brighten Cameron's day.
It didn't matter. Tomorrow he'd employ an old-fashioned method of discovering what he needed to know. And he would find answers.
CHAPTER 8
On Wednesday morning Cameron headed for the Three Peaks Public Library determined to find answers. Looking in books and old newspaper articles might tell him something the Internet and the people of Three Peaks hadn't relinquished.
Five and a half hours later, after pouring over every history book housed on the sagging shelves and every article available, all he'd achieved was exhaustion. And a neck that felt like guitar strings tuned three octaves too high.
Cameron slammed a book on the history of early Oregon shut and squeezed his temples. Why couldn't he find anything? Why was this town such a vault when it came to this mysterious book?
He looked at his notes spread out on one of the library's tables in front of a huge picture window and watched a shadow creep across them as the sun started to set.
It was pointless.
"You're not getting anywhere, are you?"
Cameron turned at the sound of the voice behind him.
A young man with sky-gray eyes, a Caterpillar baseball hat and a thick black goatee sat in a corner of the library, worn cowboy boots propped up on a chair in front of him. A decades old copy of Life magazine rested on his chest. Jimi Hendrix was on the cover.
"No one is tossing out straight answers, are they?"
"About?" Cameron raised his eyebrows.
"Don't insult me." The man laughed. "News travels in a small town even faster than Twitter."
Cameron rubbed his chin and studied the man. His eyes were mischievous. "You really want to find out about this Book of Days nonsense?"
Cameron frowned. "Book of Days?"
"Yeah, that's the official title. What have you been calling it?"
How much should he tell Cowboy Bob? At least enough to keep him talking. "My dad said 'book of all the days.'"
The man set his boots on the ground and sat up. "Your dad?"
"That's what he called it."
"Close enough. Some people call it the 'Book of Memories.'"
He leaned in. Finally someone who didn't talk in circles. "Book of Memories?"
"Sure, supposedly it's the boo
k where everyone's life is recorded. All their memories."
His dad's memories. Jessie's. His own.
"I need to find that book." Cameron looked directly at the man. "I have to find that book."
"Take a number."
"What do you mean?"
The man took off his hat and leaned forward. "I've wondered about the legend myself for years."
"Can you tell me the legend?"
"I just did." The man flicked his hat. "It's Native American. At least that's where they say it started. But some people in town get pretty private about it. The New Agers mostly. I don't know why. It's not that big a deal. The few outsiders who dig around and figure out what it is, come to the conclusion it's a joke and they wander off."
"So where do I go from here?"
"Talk to Jason. He's the expert on the Book of Days." The man closed his Life magazine and tossed it onto the end table next to his chair.
"Where do I find . . . ?"
"Jason Judah. Three Peaks' most prominent self-appointed spiritual leader."
"Self-appointed?"
"You answer every question with a question? You some kind of Socrates fan-boy?" The man broke a toothpick in two and started cleaning his teeth. "Just a little small-town humor for you."
Or small-town strangeness. "I see."
"My name is Johnny. People around here call me Johnny."
"You should have stopped with the first joke."
"I like you, Cameron." Johnny chuckled.
"Thanks." Cameron rose to his feet. "Where can I find Jason?"
Johnny pointed out the window in front of Cameron to a building on the corner across the street.
"See that tiny door between the two windows? The white one with the dark blue trim? That's where the faithful gather."
Cameron stared at the dark blue door hoping that stepping through it would change his life forever.
The door said Future Current.
Future Current? That sounded familiar. Cameron looked at his notes. Right. It was the New Age group Ann told him about. Yes. Finally he would get answers. Cameron stepped into the room, slid a few feet along the flaxen-colored back wall, and leaned against it. Jazz-rock—Joe Satriani maybe—played just loud enough for the melodic bass line and an occasional guitar riff to be heard.
Jason Judah stood in front of a polished steel podium, looking like an aged and heavier version of the Norse god Thor with curly hair, his thick dirty blond locks hanging down just below his ears.
His sixty-plus disciples leaned forward in their chairs, taking copious notes as their leader's voice rose and fell in a gentle cadence.
Two of Jason's followers he recognized: Arnold Peasley and his buddy Kirk Gillum.
"We are looking for answers. The answers are out there. We are looking for direction. The path is right in front of us. We are looking for meaning. The meaning of our lives is calling to us in every moment. We are looking for our bliss. Our bliss is waiting for us to take action.
"What do you want? You don't have because you don't ask. You can make what you want reality. We must understand that the power of the mind is limited." Jason smiled and waited, probably for the questioning looks that appeared a few seconds later.
"You expected me to say unlimited, yes? But the mind is indeed limited; by fear, by worry, by doubt. It is time to put fear aside. To push through the doubts to the other side. To give anxiety no place in your heart ever again." Jason motioned with his hands as if beckoning his followers.
"Come now, come. Believe. Believe you can create the reality you've always dreamed of. Believe you can use the Book of Days to make everything you've ever wanted come true. Believe you can tap into its vast knowledge of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. The book is here. And if we believe, we can move mountains with its power."
Jason closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
"The book is our guide." Jason paused, then opened his eyes and grinned. "And with it we will become unstoppable."
A rush of adrenaline coursed through Cameron. Either the man was a nut case or this was the breakthrough he'd hoped for.
Jason's gaze swept slowly back and forth over the faction in front of him. On his second pass he locked on to Cameron. One by one, Jason's group followed his gaze till all eyes were riveted on Cameron.
"Are you a seeker or a believer?" Jason asked.
"Neither."
"An honest man." Jason held out his hand, palm up. "That is refreshing." He strode over to Cameron. "If you are neither a seeker nor a believer, tell us what brings you here and what we might do to help make your life more full."
Cameron couldn't tell if Jason was kidding or not. Did he make up a line like that or read it in some self-help guru's book? Neither the man nor the smile on his face moved. Jason must be serious.
"My name is Cameron Vaux."
"Welcome, Cameron."
"I'd like to talk to you about the Book of Days."
"Excellent. You've come to the right place. Let's step outside for a moment." Jason led Cameron back through the door he'd come in. After they'd walked five yards Jason said, "The book, why do you seek it?"
"My—" He glanced at Jason. A hunger in the man's eyes made him stop. "Some friends of mine mentioned it before they died. They said it was important that I find it. I promised them I would. So I'm honoring their request."
"Wise friends. And I respect your honoring their desire." Jason smiled. "I think having a discussion about the book can be arranged. Breakfast tomorrow morning, perhaps? Say seven thirty at the Outland Café?"
"I'd like to talk to you about it right now."
"Not now. Tomorrow morning."
Cameron nodded. Jason didn't seem the type to be coerced into anything he didn't want to do.
"Our journey together begins, Cameron. I believe you will find it an extremely fascinating one."
CHAPTER 9
Ann sat in her room on Wednesday morning holding a cup of bad hotel coffee as she tried to ignore the cloud of doubt that hung over her head, sending drops of anxiety into her heart.
You're supposed to be here . . . you're supposed to be here.
Repeating the phrases like a mantra didn't help.
She'd slept late, went for a run, and showered, thinking it would help her figure out if she should call Cameron. He wasn't expecting her till Saturday. Part of her wanted to announce her early arrival, and part said wait.
She decided to check in with Drew, then grab an early lunch. Getting out among people would help clear her head.
"How was the drive down?" Drew asked.
"Fine." Ann took a sip of coffee and grimaced.
"You're still feeling this is the perfect path for you to be on?"
"No, but I'm successfully ignoring all those negative thoughts." She paused. "At least I wish I were."
"Are you thinking of heading back?"
"No, I need to do this, Drew."
"Hey, do me a favor. If you have it in your laptop, could you look up the e-mail address of that photographer who came by the office last month? I want to have him take some new head shots of you and the rest of the crew."
"[email protected]." Ann grabbed her keys and slipped out her door into the hotel hallway.
He chuckled. "It amazes me every time you do something like that."
"There are some advantages of having a photographic memory."
"What, there are disadvantages?"
"Remind me to tell you about them sometime."
"So have you figured out what you're going to say to Cameron when you see him?"
"I'm thinking about hello for starters." Ann reached her car, opened it, and slid behind the wheel.
"Hah."
"Hey, I worked on it the whole trip down."
"Seriously, what are you going to say?"
"I'm not thinking about it." Not at the moment. But she'd been debating what to say since that first disconcerting phone call four days ago. Ann jammed her keys into the ignition, started her Prius, a
nd yanked the gearshift into Reverse.
"In other words, you have no clue how you'll greet him."
"I have nothing."
"I think you should take the blunt approach and tell him the reason you haven't had a relationship last more than nine months ever since you met him."
"I already told you, those feelings vanished years and years ago." A grocery store slid by on her left. Lunch. She needed some.
"I think the lady doth protest too much."
"Leave it alone, Drew." She didn't need him needling her about it. Especially when his needles were hitting such tender spots.
"Does anyone in Three Peaks know you're coming?"
"Who would even care if I'm coming?"
"Small towns make big stars like you even bigger."
"I'm not a star. I hate that."
"It's true."
"Fine. I'll get my pen prepared."
"I caught that alliteration. Nicely done."
"Thanks, I'll be in touch." Ann hung up and her stomach took advantage of the pause in the action to shout, Food! Now!
The Darn Good Deli caught her eye and she slammed on the brakes and turned hard to the right. Behind her a horn screamed at her.
"Yeah, sorry, my fault." She squeezed into a parking spot on the far side of the lot and grabbed her purse. As she stood in line trying to decide between the barbecue chicken sandwich and the turkey melt, the mumbling behind her grew in volume.
"It is!"
"Here? Nah. It is not."
"Is!"
Ann turned. Two women, one blonde, one brunette, both in short-sleeve blouses squirmed behind her. They looked to be in their midforties, carrying a few extra pounds, but their features were striking. Take twenty years and twenty pounds off and they could have been models. Who did they remind her of? Some old comic book with a blonde and brunette in it. Bingo. Archie. Betty and Veronica hit middle age.
The brunette spoke first. "Hi, sorry to bother you. We're not exactly the outdoorsy types, but we love reading and watching shows about it. And, well, there's this national TV show we're hooked on called Adventure Northwest. They do shows on white-water rafting, and paintball, and hot-air ballooning, and kayaking, and skiing, you know, that kind of stuff. Well, we think you look just like the host, Ann Brewster."
