Book Of Days_ A Novel Part 22

Ann slapped her hands on the table and leaned in. "Let's go to the paper."

"Somehow I think they'd be missing those issues." Cameron drummed his fingers on the library table. He blew out a laugh. Of course! He knew exactly who to talk to. Unbelievable. Maybe his memory was returning.

It was time to pay another visit to Arnold Peasley and his newspaper museum.

CHAPTER 25.

After saying good-bye to Ann, Cameron sat in his car determined to find something to take his mind off Jessie, his memory loss, the book, Ann-everything. Even if it wasn't good for him. Yes, he and Ann were making progress on her history-Peasley had agreed to see him Friday afternoon-but he was still buried in six feet of Three Peaks dust in his search for the Book of Days.

The Peak Me Up Bar & Grill flashed into his mind. The sting of Jack Daniels and Wild Turkey had led him down a path of emptiness for six months till he'd broken its hold, but when there was little to live for, the city of Empty wasn't a bad destination. A few drinks couldn't hurt.

He pushed open the maple-colored bar door and ignored the voice inside screaming to walk away. Maybe it was Jessie's voice. Maybe his dad's. Maybe his own. It didn't matter. He was going to get plastered, kiss the world good-bye for two or six hours, and love every second of it. Or at least give it an Olympic effort.

The bar was empty except for two fortysomethings who racked b.a.l.l.s on a faded green pool table and the bartender who stared at a television that wasn't turned on.

Cameron sat at the bar on a maroon stool with silver legs that looked like it had been minted yesterday. No b.a.l.l.s dropped on the break, so the second man stepped up and tried to sink the six ball in the right corner pocket. He sank the eight ball instead.

The perfect commentary on Cameron's life.

"You're Cameron Vaux." The bartender said it as if he were required, no emotion behind the greeting.

"Yeah, and you're the bartender."

The bartender nodded, as if slightly perturbed.

"Sorry, I'm probably not happy enough for happy hour right now."

"What can I get you?"

"Mr. Jack. Double shot."

Thirty seconds later the drink sat next to him, its mellow whisky smell tempting him. But really, there was no temptation. The battle was over. Daniels had won.

He slid his fingers around the shot gla.s.s and watched the liquid bounce against the sides like a miniature pond in the wind.

Just a little liquid to set him free.

Cameron carried the drink over to a booth in the darkest part of the bar and stared at it. It was a good choice. As long as he was forgetting things, he might as well forget the futility of his life for a while. He ignored the voice still yakking away in his head and lifted the drink to his mouth.

"Nothing compliments a double shot of Jackie D better than a double-decker mushroom and Swiss burger over at The Sail & Compa.s.s."

Cameron whirled to find the source of the familiar voice.

Taylor Stone stood to the left of the front door, next to the electronic dart board, arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other as he leaned back against the wall, a little knowing smile on his face.

"Mr. Stone. Good to see you."

Taylor sauntered over to the bar and sat next to him. "I suppose I could go through all the 'you don't want to do this, and are you sure this is the best choice right now speech,' but you're too smart for that to work. So let me just bluntly say you know where this road leads, so before you toss that double shot down your throat, why don't we get some food in your stomach?"

He stared at Taylor, then at the gla.s.s. Taylor Stone, his rescuer. Irony rears up to take a bow. Taylor Stone, the thorn in his flesh. Taylor Stone, the man with hidden answers about the Book of Days. Taylor Stone, the man with his own demons.

"Will you talk about the book?"

Taylor pushed himself up from the barstool and folded his arms again. "You coming?"

Why not? Cameron took another look at the shot gla.s.s. He threw down a twenty-dollar bill, set the drink onto the middle of Abe's face, and strode with Taylor out the front door.

When Cameron stepped outside, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the sun pounding down and turned to Taylor. "The burgers are decent?"

"The best. Let's go."

The Sail & Compa.s.s carried its theme throughout the restaurant. Pictures of sailboats adorned every wall, a drawing of an ancient-looking compa.s.s covered the front of the menus and the napkins. Even the ceiling was covered with the night sky, little white dots representing the constellations-nature's map for sailors.

They ordered and watched a Seattle Mariners' game on the big screen inside the bar while waiting for their food to arrive.

When the game went to commercial break, Cameron turned to Taylor. "It seems odd to have a sailing themed restaurant this far inland."

"Maybe this is the closest people around here will ever get to the water."

"They could take a drive. It can't be over one hundred and fifty miles to the ocean from Three Peaks."

Taylor tilted his head to the side. "Want to bet?"

"Sure, loser pays for the burgers."

"One hundred and fifty-seven miles to Newport. I win. You lose."

Cameron tossed his cardboard coaster at Taylor and hit him in the stomach. "You want to know why most of our conversations start off okay but drift into the realm of animosity?"

"Sure, enlighten me." Taylor grinned.

"Probably because I get too close to the truth, pick away too much of your scab that covers it up, and you can't handle the pain."

"Probably true."

Cameron expected Taylor to respond with anger, but he didn't.

A moment later their plump waitress with her megawatt smile shimmied up to their table with their meals. As soon as Cameron's plate skidded to a halt on the table, he grabbed a handful of French fries and shoved them in his mouth.

"What are you doing there, sailor?"

"Trying to counteract the effects of Mr. Jack."

"Uh, h.e.l.lo? You and Mr. Jack didn't end up meeting this afternoon." Taylor laughed.

"What?"

"You didn't throw down that shot, Cameron. Are you okay?"

No. Not in front of Stone. Think. Did he swallow the drink? That's right, Taylor came and he ... paid for it but didn't ... Oh, wow. Cameron's stomach knotted like he'd swallowed a sixteen-pound bowling ball. He had to get a grip, keep Stone from seeing him panic.

"I guess I was so determined to have the drink when I went in, I thought I..."

"Relax; it's an easy thing to forget." Taylor's mouth said the words, but his eyes and tone of voice disagreed. He stared at Cameron as if waiting for a confession.

"I haven't been sleeping well since I got here."

Taylor grabbed the ketchup and squirted what looked like half the bottle in between his double-decker mushroom and Swiss burger and his fries. "I know you want to talk about the book, but let me throw out a wild idea instead. You can decide to shoot me down in flames or go along for the ride."

Cameron squinted at him. "Okay."

"Let's pretend you don't care about the Book of Days' legend, and I don't care that you have an obsession with it. We'll pretend we're old friends telling stories of the insane things we did in our late teens and early twenties. Hmm?"

He shook his head and gave a weak smile. How could Taylor know Cameron and his dad shared those kinds of stories with each other a few years after the disease took hold? Like how his dad set the unofficial record for getting from West Seattle to downtown by running every stoplight and stop sign along the route. How he swam across the bone-numbing waters of Hood Ca.n.a.l on a whim in the summer of '78.

Cameron rubbed his face. He missed those talks. He missed his dad.

"What's wrong?" Taylor said.

"My dad and I used to tell each other those kinds of stories."

"Hey, we don't have to-"

"Nah, let's do it." It might be the closest he could ever get to talking with his dad again.

By the time he was done with his hamburger-which was as good as Taylor said it would be-Cameron had told him about everything from the time as a teenager where he and two friends had filled up fire extinguishers with water and spent the night soaking everyone on the street they could find, to how in their early twenties Brandon and he had parachuted into the middle of a Dave Mathews Band concert at the Gorge Amphitheatre in eastern Washington.

Taylor arched an eyebrow. "I'll bet the aftermath of that stunt was interesting."

"It was a stupid thing to do. But we only spent one night in jail."

After Taylor told of his rock concert days, experiments with drugs, and the time he outran a cop in his 1963 Chevy Impala SS, Cameron smiled. "You were a certifiable wild child, Mr. Stone."

"It was the sixties, there was no choice." Taylor downed the last of his third c.o.ke. "And I have to say, based on your stories from the early nineties, you would have, uh, fit right in with my group of friends."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as such." Taylor raised his gla.s.s of now only ice and Cameron clinked his against it.

"To life."

"To life," Cameron agreed.

After their waitress took their plates, Taylor pulled out his wallet. "Just so there's no argument, when the check comes I'll be paying."

"Really. Why's that? I'm the one who needed rescuing from the bottle. You rescued; I should pay. Plus I lost the bet."

Taylor wiggled his ears. "First, because I asked you, second, penance for lying to you the other day at the jazz festival."

Cameron frowned. "How?"

"When I said I didn't know anything about a note threatening you if you didn't leave Three Peaks."

"You didn't lie; you didn't say anything."

"I knew the truth and didn't speak it. It's the same thing as lying."

"So you did send the note."

Taylor stared at him with a thin smile.

Cameron pushed himself back from the table, teetered back in his chair, and smiled. "It's okay. I knew you sent it. Knew you were lying."

"Oh, you did?" Taylor threw his Visa card onto the table and the waitress snagged it a few seconds later. "I believe it. Most people are human lie detectors. Did you know the people who have the most trouble spotting a liar are other liars?"

"No." Cameron shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. "So you feel bad about the lie?"

"For the most part, yes."

"Does this mean you're going to tell me what you know about the book?"

"On that count, I'm afraid I'll have to bring you a bit of disappointment." Taylor looked at the ceiling and pursed his lips. "But I do promise not to lie to you anymore, as long as we close the book on the subject. Pun intended."

"Lousy pun."

"So do you agree? The subject is closed?"

"I can't. I have to do this."

Taylor stared at him, hands folded on top of his head. "You're a good kid, Cameron. Really. But a secret is kept by one. However I will tell you this. No matter what you hear from anyone else, there is no Book of Days that you can leaf through like an old Sears catalog. Never was. Never will be. You can hang out here in town the rest of your life for all I care. In fact, I think I'd like it."

Taylor lowered his hands from his head and leaned forward. "I know I'd like it. But you'll never find a book where G.o.d has written down in heavenly black ink every moment of every man and woman's past, present, and future, no matter how long you search."

"But you know more than you've told me."

Taylor sighed and leaned back.

"You can trust me."

Cameron saw the battle going on inside Taylor. Part of him wanted to talk. But it was like sneaking up on a three-point buck. The more noise he made, the quicker the deer would spook and bolt away.

This was a hunt Cameron had to let play out without crashing through the woods like a rookie. The more he backed off, the better chance the war going on inside Taylor's eyes would turn in his favor. But Cameron was running out of time. The waitress brought their bill and Taylor's Visa card back.