"In other words, you've figured out who I am," Ann said.
"I suspected immediately." He coughed. "The moment I saw you on that stage."
"I didn't figure it out till this morning."
Taylor nodded, stared at the path in front of them, and kept walking.
Ann had expected some kind of reaction. Certainly more than nothing. It was her turn to punch the mute button on the conversation. Did Taylor want to ignore it? She looked back expecting to see a pink elephant stomping along behind them. What was the best way to bring the animal to front and center? She was glad walking down the path gave her an excuse to keep looking straight ahead.
After another minute she said, "If you know who I am, why have you been pushing me away? What is it about me you dislike so much?"
Taylor sucked in quick breath. "Ann," he started to say, and then stopped to snatch a gnarled pine branch off the ground and turn it into an impromptu walking stick. "Don't think that even for a second. I do like you, very much. It has nothing to do with you.
"But . . . seeing you stirs up a number of memories I'd rather not deal . . . I'd rather not think about. It's God's way of rubbing my nose in the past, not letting me forget my sin, poking me in the spot where it hurts most."
They continued strolling through the park in silence, Ann wanting to know so much but not wanting to press into Taylor's pain without invitation.
They continued, the scuffing of their shoes on the path the only thing breaking the silence.
"Ask me what you want to know, and I'll tell you," Taylor said a few minutes later.
"Why did my mom leave Three Peaks?"
Taylor sighed again, stopped walking, and turned to Ann. His face was white and he swallowed like someone who was choking. "Years ago I made a horrible choice, and because of it someone died."
"Annie."
Taylor nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Your mom left town—angry at me, angry at herself, angry at the world. I decided to stay. I wrote to Jennifer five times during the next three years begging for her forgiveness, but she never wrote back."
Taylor took three long breaths.
"I never heard from her again. I'm not sure what I would have said if she had responded. I didn't know if she got married, had children . . . There were times when I almost got in the car and drove up to her last known address. Finally I gave up. It would only bring the memory back on both of us."
Ann drew a finger across her mouth. "Why did she become a drug addict?"
"The pain. A way to deal with it."
Pain? It was the only legacy her mom had left. Ann shook her head. But she was still her mom. Ann couldn't stop from asking the question. "Will you tell me about my mom?"
"What do you want to know?"
Was it possible to loathe someone and love them at the same time? "Everything."
"She was quiet. With one or two friends she talked with such intensity, but in public she was shy." A sad smile appeared on his face. "She was a natural athlete but preferred reading and learning to playing sports. As you might imagine she was smart, straight A's all through school."
Like mother like daughter. "What else?"
"Jennifer had a dry sense of humor. And she was very loyal."
"Loyal? To whom? She must have lost it on the drive up to Washington, because I never saw it."
"I'm sorry." Taylor shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"She worked two jobs. Not to feed me. To feed her heroin habit."
Taylor's shoulders slumped and he let out a long sigh. "I didn't know."
"One day she shot up too much and never came home. That was her loyalty to me."
"I'm sorry, Ann. So sorry."
They tramped on, their shoes scrunching into the gravel in the same cadence.
"Have you forgiven her?"
Ann shook her head. She didn't trust her voice.
"Whether she was able to tell you or not, the Jennifer I knew would have loved you. Deeply. She always talked about wanting kids."
Ann rubbed her forearms with both hands. "Then why didn't she ever show it?"
"When Annie died it changed her. It changed me too."
Ann rubbed her hands across her cheeks. "I'm named after Annie, you know."
"Yes, of course."
"So seeing Annie in me is both wonderful and painful at the same time?" A tinge of warmth crept into Ann's face.
Taylor nodded. "Precisely."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No." Taylor dug a hole in the gravel with the toe of his leather boot. "Of course not. God is in this. At least I know that in my head, if not my heart."
Taylor started walking again and kicked a pinecone off the path, then turned to Ann. "I need to talk about something different now. It will take a while to stuff my insides back into my chest cavity, and I don't want Tricia to see me this way."
"I understand." Ann smiled.
"Tell me about Cameron. Do you like him?"
"Are you playing Yente?"
"Who?"
"Yente from Fiddler on the Roof. Supposedly it's an old classic. I had a boyfriend in high school who made me watch it three times."
Taylor smiled. "I agree on your definition of it being a classic, but old? I was nineteen when that movie came out. So are you saying I'm old?"
"Yes. Ancient."
Taylor burst into laughter, and the mood around the man changed in an instant. "While I appreciate the humor, that doesn't excuse you from telling me about Mr. Vaux."
"He's complicated."
"All compelling men are. Are you interested in him?"
"I've loved him for seven years." Ann's face grew hot in an instant. What was she thinking? Why did she confess that? Were her emotions that close to the surface? Ugh. She needed to keep a tighter rein on them. Bury them. Treat her interactions with Cameron more businesslike. Cool, calm, collected. Please.
"Ah, I see. Don't worry; I'll keep that information to myself."
"Thanks."
"What do you see as his complications?"
"Two things. First, he doesn't follow Jesus—"
"Which is why you can't do anything about your feelings."
Ann nodded.
"And second?"
"Even if he were a Christian, he wouldn't be ready for a relationship. He wears a band of pain around his neck." She glanced at Taylor. "The same band you wear."
"Really? Which one is that?"
"One of hanging on to a past love, not able to let go of her, and letting the burden of carrying that weight affect everyone around him."
"You're doing the blunt thing to me again."
"I'm sorry, would you like me to stop?"
Taylor shook his head. "No, it reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago."
By the time they finished their third lap around the park, Ann had fallen for Taylor Stone. Would her sentiment ever be returned? Even if he wasn't a blood relative, he was her uncle; he was family.
The only family she had.
Over time he could tell her more and more about her mom, and in time she might be able to listen. But forgive? She pushed the question out of her mind.
Ann leaned into Taylor and he gave her a quick sideways squeeze. It was enough. Ann didn't care what he knew or didn't know about the Book of Days. She just hoped she'd found a friend.
CHAPTER 34
Two Years, One Month Earlier
Cameron was in the middle of voicing a corporate video for Wiley's Water Ski Shop when his cell phone rang.
Great. And the take had been perfect so far. He needed to remember to put his cell on mute when he was cutting tracks. "Hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
"Hi, babe. Love you. W
hat's up?"
"Can you talk?" Jessie said.
Cameron glanced at Brandon sitting in the booth drumming his fingers on the mixing board. He pointed at his watch and then made a motion like he was handing out dollar bills.
"Not really, I forgot to shut my phone off. We're in the middle of recording a voice-over and this studio isn't cheap. Someday we'll get our own—"
"No problem. I'll talk to—"
"Wait, Jess." Something in her voice said it was important. "Talk to me." He held up his forefinger to Brandon as if to say "one minute."
"I want us to go to Oregon."
"Uh, we've been to Oregon, honey. Remember the coast last summer?"
"Soon, we need to go again soon."
"Sorry to repeat myself, but we've been there. You okay?"
"Central Oregon. We've never been there together."
"Can we talk about this when I get home?"
"I'm sorry, Cam. I know you're in the middle of work. It's bad timing on my part, but it's time to go."
"Why?"
"We need to look for something, find something there."
"What?"
"Something I saw when I was a kid."
"What? The thing you saw when you were ten? That thing?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To see if it's real."
"If what is real?"
"I can't tell you over the phone."
"You took trips there when you were a kid, right? Girl Scouts?"
"Yes."
"Why the sudden interest in going back?"
"I'll explain when we get there."
"Yeah, but what is the something?"
"I told you, I can't tell you."
"Listen Jess, I'm not tracking. I'm in the middle of this VO. Can we yak about this when I get home tonight? I mean, we can go there if you want, but I gotta get this thing done, all right?"
"Sure."
"Okay, love. See you then."
When he'd gotten home that evening, Jessie was asleep and she didn't bring it up in the morning. He didn't either and the conversation faded from memory.
Cameron stood with Ann on Sunday morning at the base of a 5.10 climb, fear pinging around his stomach like a gyroscope. "Are you sure you're up for this?"
Ann nodded but didn't look at him. She'd been cool the entire drive to the climb site, responding to him with one-word answers, her head turned toward the passenger side window.
So much for the thawed-out Ann he'd enjoyed the past few days. The Ice Queen returneth.
He stared at their climbing gear laid out in front of them. They'd checked and double-checked to make sure they had a full climbing rack of carabineers, nuts, cams, and quick-draws as if that could make the fright of the last climb fade away.
The accident three days earlier had shaken both of them. But the longer they waited to get back on a cliff the more doubt would grow in the fertile soil of fear.
Ann took a deep breath. "Do what you fear most and you conquer fear."
"You believe that?"
"No, but it's one of my favorite clichés anyway." Ann frowned and jiggled her hands up and down as if she held a set of reins. "And I do know we need to get back on this beast."
Cameron nodded. "Okay, let's ride. It's the perfect way to kick off the first day of August."
Two hours later he sat next to Ann on a ridge 350 feet above the ground, the rush of the climb seeping out of him, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.
He stole glances at Ann as the sunlight danced on her skin. She was gorgeous. And intelligent. Intriguing in ways so different from Jessie. Tricia's words floated back to him:
"If you knew you were dying and Jessie would live many years beyond you, would you want her to live her life alone, hanging on to the cloud of your death and your memory? Or would you want her to be happy?"
The problem was Ann didn't care for him. Yes, she'd warmed up for a few days from "I despise you" to "I think I could almost be friends with you," now today back to "I'll tolerate you." Not a great romantic foundation. Plus why would she want to be with a man losing his mind? And finally, while Tricia might be right, he couldn't—he wouldn't—let his heart turn from Jessie to anyone else. He needed to get back to reality.
"We make a decent team," Ann said.
"What?"
"We climb well together."
"I agree."
Ann cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair. Then swallowed. Twice. "Will you ever be ready to give love another chance?"
"You mean date again?"
"I mean fall in love again."
He stared at a prairie falcon circling above them and wished the pain of losing Jessie could soar away that easily.
"I always told Jessie I could never love anyone after her."
"What did she say?"
Cameron's mind buzzed. He remembered talking to Jessie about this. Didn't he? When was it? Years ago. She'd said something strange, as if she knew she would die before him. Think. Did they talk about it, or did he only dream it? He needed the book. Please be real. Please.
"Cam?"
"Right here."
"I thought I lost you. I called your name twice." Ann tapped the top of his climbing shoe with the sole of hers.
"Sorry, I think Jessie and I talked about this. I was just trying to remember what she said." He looked down at the slight tear in his climbing shorts. Like the tear in his mind. "I'm guessing she said I'd love again."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Will you?"
He tried to drag the memory out of the corner of his mind. Where did Jessie and he have that talk? "Will I what?"
"Are you with me here? Do you think you'll ever love anyone else again?"
"I can't get her out of my heart."
Ann sighed and pulled a climbing rope slowly through her palm. "I don't think you ever have to get her out of your heart, but what about getting her out of your head?"
"She's leaving my mind. Faster every day."
Ann put on her sunglasses. "Jessie will always have a place in your heart, but as long as you keep holding on to her in your mind, you'll never be fully open to anyone else who comes along. You have to let her go."
"I know, but I don't know how. It's not like a button I can push."
"All I'm saying is if the possibility of love is in front of you, you need to open yourself to see it. And holding on to Jessie too tightly is like walking around with blinders on."
Cameron didn't respond and a few minutes later Ann suggested they head back down. After the seconds hand on his watch whirled around ten times, they stood on red-brown earth. It had been an excellent climb, without anything of note happening except how seamlessly they worked together.
"Good climb. Good call on getting us back up there, H," he said. "Are you glad we did it?"
Ann didn't answer.
The falcon swept by overhead and screeched. Cameron cocked his thumb. "At least he agrees."
Again Ann didn't comment. She picked up one of their ropes and coiled it in swift, tight motions, tied it off, and tossed it toward the car almost violently. He walked over to her and bent down to grab another rope.
"You want some help?" Cameron slid his hand around the rope on top, but Ann yanked it away and walked toward the car, coiling it herself.
It was obvious the thaw on top of the mountain was temporary. And it was getting tiring having her travel back and forth from sun to snow.
"Did I do something? Taking a wild guess here, but I think you're ticked off at me."
"You're a genius. You should write a book on picking up on women's subtle emotional clues. Book sellers would catch on fire it'd sell so fast." She dump
ed the rope in the trunk and strode back toward him.
"And why are you upset with me?"
Ann shook her head as she marched past him.
"Come on. Are you going to let me know what I did, or are we going to have as quiet a ride back to town as we did on the way up here?"
"Do I really have to tell you?"
Yes, she did.
"I'm sorry. You're right. It's not your issue, it's mine. You haven't done anything wrong." She picked up her day pack, strode back to the car, slammed it into the trunk of his MINI Cooper, and ambled back toward him.
"Then what's the problem?"
Ann placed both hands on her hips, and her eyes drilled into him like a laser. "You really and truly don't understand what I was trying to say up there three-hundred feet over your head, do you? You didn't pick up on any clues as we sat looking out over the valley?"
Cameron squatted down and drew circles in the dirt with his forefinger. He had every excuse to say no. Her hints would have sailed over the head of a lot of guys. But deep down he knew. During the past week and a half, her eyes had been saying the same thing they'd said years ago when he first met Jessie and her. She liked him. Wanted to be with him. And then he'd chosen Jessie, and the light in Ann's eyes had gone out. Until now. "Yes, I knew what you were saying."
"But you just let me sail it out there, gave me no response . . . let me feel like a complete fool."
"I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to let go of Jessie."
"You need to consider something, Cameron Vaux."
He looked up.
"Do you think you're the only one who misses her? You're not the only one who lost someone two years ago. She was my best friend. The sister I never had." Ann kicked the ground. "At a certain point you have to get on with life."
"Before I get on with life, I have to know if there's going to be a life to get on with!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Cameron rolled his eyes.
"You know what I think? I think you're losing more than a few memories here and there, which all of us do. You've lost a lot. You're terrified this thing will accelerate into losing your mind completely. It's why you cling to the idea of this book, even though you know there's ninety-nine percent chance it's a farce. It's a way to avoid ever really looking reality in the eye."
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