Book Of Days_ A Novel Part 5

"He lived here till he was nine."

Kirk rubbed his chin. "Interesting. It is indeed a small world. Is this the first time you've visited Three Peaks?"

Cameron nodded. "First time."

"And you wanted to see where he spent his early years? Is that what this history thing is about?"

"That and hopefully a little bit more."

"More?" Kirk leaned back and folded his arms again.

"My dad died eight years ago, but before he did, he said something strange. His mind was gone at the time so I didn't pay much attention then. But some recent ... circ.u.mstances have made me think again about what he said and take it a little more seriously."

"And what did he say?" Kirk t.i.tled his head.

"That I needed to find the day's book. I have to find out if it exists."

"The day's book? Hmm... ?" Kirk squeezed the tip of his tongue between his lips and looked like he'd taken a bite of lemon pie without any sugar.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

The mayor stared at him with a condescending smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, Cameron, but why in the world would you want to go searching for something like that? Trust me, leave it alone."

"So it does mean something to you."

"Of course it means something to me, or I wouldn't have suggested you drop it." Kirk stood and strolled toward the front door of the store. "But since I'm one of the friendliest people you'll meet in this town, young Cameron, I'll say it again. You might consider just leaving it alone."

Cameron planted his hands on his hips. "Mind telling me why?"

"You are a free citizen and can do whatever you want within the confines of the law." Kirk pushed open the front door. "But I do hate to see anyone in my town, especially a fine new friend, waste his time chasing down some fairy tale that is none of his business when he could be out doing so many other interesting things." He motioned through the door toward Cameron's car. "Thanks for coming by."

Cameron took the not-so-subtle hint and walked out. He climbed into his car and fell back in his seat.

Until that moment, he hadn't given his dad's and Jessie's words more than a fifty-fifty chance of having any validity. No longer.

A fairy tale? Not to Kirk it wasn't. So what was this book?

Cameron pulled Gillum's list out of his pocket. Time to meet quirky Arnold Peasley.

CHAPTER 5.

What are you still doing here?"

Ann Banister looked up from her desk to find Drew Silster standing in the doorway of her office, arms spread to both sides of the door frame, his eyes twinkling behind his squared-off gla.s.ses. Good boss. Good friend.

"I was plowing through a few e-mails and wrapping up a few last-minute details," Ann said.

"You mean you were stalling?"

"You're funny." Ann smiled. "I mean I was wrapping up a few details."

"Anything I can do for you while you're gone?"

She shut down her e-mail. "Yes. You could pray for my trip. I'll need it."

"Excellent suggestion. I'll get started on that as soon as I figure out how that whole prayer thing works." Drew stroked his chin. "When you get back, I've got a stupendously stellar story for you to work on."

"That's the twentieth time you've used that line this year." Ann leaned back in her chair and folded her hands across her dark blue Nike jacket. "And it's only July. You're addicted to alliteration."

"I can't believe I'm giving you three weeks off in a row."

"Sure you can, I've earned it." Ann grinned. "And you love me."

"True. And so do they." Drew stepped inside and pointed at a map of the United States on the far wall of Ann's office. "Did you see the overnights? The TV audience in Miami loves you. As they do in Philadelphia, and San Francisco, and Nashville.

"But they're not so sure about you in Dallas or right here in Portland, Oregon." He walked to the map and circled the cities with his forefinger. "The show has plummeted all the way to number two in its time slot in both markets."

"I still wonder why I got in front of your cameras that first time." Ann shook her head, even though now she couldn't picture herself doing anything else.

"You're finally going to tell me why you agreed? Ever since I've known you, you've never wanted anything to do with the outdoors or thrill seeking, then all of a sudden two years ago, boom, you transform from Ms. Investigative Journalist into Adventure Girl."

"I think you know why." Ann touched the tip of her forefinger to a framed picture on her desk.

"I suppose I do."

"It's the same reason I started rock climbing. It's a way to feel close to the true adventure girl. I think about Jessie with every story I do. She would love to be cohosting the adventures with me. And she'd be better at it."

Ann picked up the photo of her foster sister and clutched it against her chest. "I pretend Jessie's doing the stories with me, laughing, teasing me, pushing me to do even crazier things."

She set the picture back on her desk and swallowed. No more tears. Enough had come a few days back on the anniversary of the crash. "So what's the stellar story you'll have me dying to develop when I get back?"

"Rock climbing. Since you're a pro now, it's time." Drew waved the production schedule in his hand. "I've been producing Adventure Northwest Adventure Northwest for three years, and we've never done a show on rock climbing." for three years, and we've never done a show on rock climbing."

"I didn't realize that. What a riveting revelation." Ann clicked off her desk lamp.

"That one was better than your last two."

"Thanks. Listen, I'm still pretty new to the whole climbing thing. Maybe we could wait another six months or a year even."

"Nah, you'll be great. Knowing you, I'm sure you're better than you're letting on."

She scooted her leather chair up next to her desk as she watched Drew gaze at The Princess Bride The Princess Bride poster on her office wall. poster on her office wall.

"Still waiting for Wesley, aren't you?"

"Absolutely." Ann flipped her shoulder-length auburn hair behind her shoulders. "Nothing can stop true love."

"Don't you have to find him first?"

"I'm working on that." But she wasn't working on it. Was she supposed to meet someone online? Not a chance. Ask friends to set her up? No. Finding true love wasn't as easy as scripting a movie where the handsome hero suddenly appears.

Drew rapped a rolled-up tube of papers against his palm. "Speaking of romance, I'm going to surrept.i.tiously stick my snout in where it doesn't belong."

"You already did with your stalling comment." Ann folded her arms across her chest.

"Are you seriously going down to Three Peaks to meet Cameron?"

"No. I'm not going there to meet him. He'll just happen to be there at the same time I'm finding out where I came from." Ann raised her eyebrows and tilted her head.

"You sure you want to dig into your family history?"

"Positive."

But she wasn't positive. Why try to find relatives who might not want to be found? Why uncover a past that might be better off buried? Because she had to know if she was completely alone in the world. And the timing of Cameron's call might be G.o.d's way of saying it's time.

"You just happen to be going down there at the same time as Cameron? I thought he called and asked you to come." Drew slumped into the chair in front of Ann's desk.

"He did."

"I'm confused."

"So am I." Ann pinched the bridge of her nose. "But I've been meaning to go there anyway, so the timing worked out. What was I supposed to say?"

"No."

"I tried, Drew."

"Not hard enough apparently."

"He's almost like a brother-in-law. And it has to do with Jessie too. Something I need to find out about her."

Drew nodded. "You're not worried about any emotions that might surface again being around Cameron?"

Ann rolled her eyes and sighed. Yes, she was fully worried. "That was seven years ago." She slammed her laptop shut and stuffed it into her briefcase.

"So you don't have those feelings anymore?"

"No." Ann, you are such a liar. Ann, you are such a liar.

"I'm only going to say this because you're one of my closest friends. I can tell when you're lying."

"Well, this time you're wrong." She slung her briefcase strap over her shoulder and glared at him. "I'll be fine."

"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't at least tell you to be careful?"

"I'm always careful."

"I know." Drew stood, walked through the doorway, and said over his shoulder, "Be extra careful this time, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."

Neither did she. But it wouldn't be easy.

Hearing Cameron's voice and having the old feelings surge to the surface was bad enough. Now she'd have to be around him for a week or more.

Why had G.o.d stuck him back in her life? Even if Cameron caught a clue and realized how she felt, she could never let herself get involved with him.

Add in the possibility that Jessie's book was real, and she had a recipe for severe psychosis. How many times had she teased Jessie about that fantastical story? Probably every day after they ended up together in the Busby's foster home.

Ann strode out of her office, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks.

She had the feeling this adventure would wrack more nerves than any on-air story she'd ever done.

CHAPTER 6.

Cameron rang Arnold Peasley's doorbell as he examined the chipped pea-green paint on the siding determined to get answers. He wouldn't let Arnold shut him down as fast as Kirk Gillum.

Ten seconds later the door swung open and a spry man wearing a plaid long-sleeved shirt and an ancient-looking pair of Adidas sweatpants stood in front of him. He held a worn basketball under his arm.

"Arnold Peasley?"

"Yep."

"My name is Cameron-"

"I know precisely who you are." Arnold tapped his foot double-time on the faded hardwood floor in his entryway. "Gillum said you'd be coming by to converse with me about Three Peak's history."

Arnold led Cameron through a six-foot-tall corridor of stacked newspapers bound with twine. Piles of papers lined every wall.

"Quite a collection of newspapers you have there."

"I keep telling myself I should toss 'em, but I consider myself the town's unofficial historian, and a newspaper is the best history you can have. Books have a tendency to filter out all the interesting details." Arnold ran his fingers through his hair three times in rapid succession.

"Don't they have microfiche of all these papers?"

"Oh, probably, but there's nothing like having the real McCoy, you know what I'm saying? I think you do." Arnold stopped in front of two rocking chairs, only a few patches of varnish still on them, sat, and motioned for Cameron to do the same.

A few moments later Arnold smacked the arms of his chair three times and popped back to his feet. He strode toward the kitchen dribbling his basketball. "Come along, Cameron; don't just sit there."