Book of Days

by James Rubart

  The alley was empty except for an old Pepsi can rocking back and forth in the slight breeze.

  The man had vanished.

  CHAPTER 36

  You can't hide from me, so why hide it from yourself? Whether you admit it to me or not, you and the Book of Days have a deep connection." Tricia thrust her shovel into the soil and heaved another pile of dirt out of the trench she was digging. Why did she love the man so much? He drove her nuts at times. Most of the time.

  "Are you positive you don't want a hand with that?" Taylor said from the cast-iron bench he sat on in their backyard.

  "One hundred percent."

  "Building a pond is a great idea."

  "Don't try to change the subject." She pointed her forefinger at him. "You know something."

  "So what if I do? I don't see how that obligates me to tell you."

  "What makes you come to the conclusion I'm talking about me?"

  Taylor blinked and turned away.

  "You have a newly found niece. And a young man she likes. And he likes her. And they're looking for this book which is probably a fake. But it really doesn't matter because you're not going to lift even your pinky to help them." Tricia scooped out another shovelful of dirt and tossed it at Taylor's feet. "And it's wrapped up in something you've carried around in the dark ever since Annie died, and it's time you lay the burden down and forgive yourself for whatever it is you think you did."

  "Are you finished?"

  "I'm just getting started, Taylor."

  "Great."

  "You lose Annie when you're young, Cameron loses his wife when he's young—don't you think that's an interesting coincidence? Have you considered for more than a passing moment that God might have something to do with putting you two together? That maybe He's asking you to give Cameron a little help?"

  "I wouldn't be much help."

  Tricia shoved her shovel into the sod and trudged over and sat next to her husband.

  "We both see it, so I might as well come out and say it—Cameron is headed down the same path you've been on for too many years. Holding on to the past with a grip even death would have trouble releasing, unable to get past the tragedy of losing someone he loved.

  "Helping him find this book of his would go a long way toward getting him to open up to you, and then maybe you can talk some sense into him that you haven't been able to talk into yourself."

  Taylor sighed. "There are some things you can't forgive yourself for. Things you shouldn't forgive yourself for." He rose from the bench, grabbed Tricia's shovel, and started digging.

  "It's amazing to meet someone greater than God."

  Taylor frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "He's willing to forgive everything you've ever done, or ever will do, but since your wisdom is much greater than His, you know you shouldn't accept that kind of love."

  "And if I forgive myself?"

  "It would give you the ability to forgive others."

  "Who haven't I forgiven, Tricia?"

  She shifted on the bench, took off her work gloves, and tossed them onto the grass. "Your best friend."

  "I don't have a—"

  "Jason. You need to forgive Jason too."

  "You're not going to start talking about that again, are you?"

  "It would set you free."

  "That's what you've told me."

  Tricia took off her sunglasses. "It's true."

  "The past is the past is the past. I'm not going back there."

  "If you've forgotten the past, why do you have a vacation home there?"

  Taylor dropped the shovel onto the dark soil and strode over to the edge of their property, hands on the cedar fence, face turned to the sky.

  Tricia let him have a few minutes of solitude before strolling over to him. "Hello, my name is Tricia. What's yours?"

  "I'm guessing there's a point to this."

  "You're not you."

  "Uh, I think I am." Taylor whapped his stomach with his palm. "Yep, still me."

  "Do you remember when you and Annie and Susan and I were all around thirteen years old and you blindfolded us and took us down to Munson's Bridge and had us get out on the edge? You were so excited. It was only twenty-five feet up, but it felt like two hundred. You jumped first and watched as each of us jumped, but only if we wanted to. And of course we all wanted to, and when we'd all leaped, you gathered us on the shore?"

  Tricia waited till Taylor looked right at her. "Do you remember what you said?"

  He didn't answer.

  "You said, 'I was so scared to jump, but I was even more scared to tell you I was scared. But if we can't tell each other our greatest fears, then what would our friendship be?' That was profound wisdom coming from a thirteen-year-old. Do you remember?"

  "Yes." He looked back to the sky.

  "I don't see that Taylor so much anymore. Do you?"

  Silence.

  Tricia took his hands in hers. "What happened when Annie died? And why is this book business turning you inside out?"

  Taylor leaned back against the fence and sighed again. "Maybe I'll never open up. Maybe this is who I am now. Maybe it's all I'll ever be. Am I so bad?"

  "You are wonderful in so many ways. But there is still so much more inside you."

  "Maybe there isn't, Tricia. Maybe that part died along with Annie and is impossible to resurrect."

  "I don't believe that."

  "Maybe you should."

  Tricia trudged up to the house and tossed her work gloves on the deck. She glanced back. Taylor walked to the shovel and picked it up again. For a few moments she watched him work up a sweat, trying to pay penance for the rooms of his heart he'd shut her out of.

  "Break him open, Lord. There's gold inside, but no one can get to it but You."

  Cameron glanced at his watch. An hour and a half had come and gone. At an hour-forty-five the bells on the coffee shop door chimed and Ann walked in.

  "You're late," he said when she reached their table.

  "Are you going to dock my pay?"

  "Sorry, I'm a little hyped up here. You won't believe what I'm going to tell you."

  "You could use a massage too." Ann slid into the seat next to him and squeezed the back of his neck. "You're tight."

  He didn't need that. Cameron shifted in his chair and pulled away from her touch.

  "Sorry."

  "While you were gone, I did a little research on Vela and Pyxis."

  "And?"

  Cameron leaned further over the table and tapped his pencil against the constellation map like a woodpecker. "Guess what the translation of Vela is?" He slid a piece of paper in front of her.

  "The Sail," she read off the paper.

  "And here's the translation of Pyxis." He slid another small piece of paper in front of Ann.

  "The Compass."

  "Now take a look at this business card from a well-known Three Peaks restaurant."

  Ann eyes went wide. "The Sail & Compass Bar & Grill. Oh, wow."

  "Great burgers. But we're in the middle of the high desert. Why would someone name their restaurant Sail & Compass when it's 160 miles from the ocean? Bronco Billy's, sure. Pine & Post Bar and Grill, absolutely. But Sail & Compass? It doesn't fit. Unless they were sending out a New York-sized neon sign."

  "We need to find out who started the restaurant."

  Cameron nodded. "My thinking precisely."

  "You already know."

  "Yes, I do." Cameron bent the Sail & Compass business card in the middle and spun it on the table like a top.

  "Tell me."

  "Take a wild guess."

  "Taylor Stone."

  "He sold the restaurant three years ago, but Taylor still owns—"

  "The building."

  "Correct. Owned one-hundred percent by him and him alone. No partners. It's the perfect place for him to store all his large secrets." Cameron gathered up his papers.

  "Are you saying the Book of Days is inside that building?"

 
; "I'm saying we should head for the courthouse and look at the blueprints of the structure. It wouldn't surprise me to find a basement."

  "Are you hoping to find blueprints that say 'Book of Days' room?"

  Cameron grinned. "That would be nice."

  Ann and Cameron stepped into the county courthouse at two o'clock. A large sign on the door told them the building would close at three. Plenty of time to find what they needed.

  As they approached a tall counter with a black and white Information sign, the floorboards creaked, as if they were about to snap, but the bespectacled middle-aged man behind didn't look up.

  After clearing his throat three times, each time raising in volume but eliciting no reaction from the clerk, Cameron looked around for another way to get the man's attention. A bell sat at the far end of the counter and Cameron stepped over to it.

  A tiny sign matted down with yellowed Scotch tape said, "Ring bell for service." He looked at Ann, shrugged, and gave the bell a sharp rap.

  The clerk instantly looked up from his Dean Koontz novel and smiled. "Hello! Nice to have you here today. How can I assist you?"

  "We're selling hearing aids, are you interested?" Cameron said under his breath.

  Ann elbowed him. "We'd like access to some public records."

  "Sure, what of?" He set down his book and stood.

  "The building where The Sail & Compass restaurant is."

  The clerk frowned but trudged off and came back six minutes later with blueprints of the building.

  "Be careful with those, please. That's Taylor—" The clerk stopped himself as if he'd been caught taking a cookie out of a kid's lunch box.

  "We know Taylor Stone owns the building." Cameron spread the blueprints out on the counter and studied them.

  "Do you know him?"

  "What?" Cameron looked up.

  "Do you know Taylor Stone?"

  "Yes." He turned back to the plans. "We both do." He glanced at Ann who had a look of intense concentration on her face. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing? It looks like the basement has—"

  "Does he know you're looking at the plans?" The clerk leaned in almost close enough for his head to touch Cameron's.

  "I don't think so. I didn't think we had to ask permission to see items of public record."

  The clerk leaned back and tapped his foot. "No, I suppose you're right. But don't you think it would nice if you asked? I do."

  "We will next time. I promise. Now do you mind if we take a quick look at these without interruption? And then we won't bother you anymore."

  "You're not bothering me." The clerk cleared his throat. "Much."

  "We just need a few more minutes, thanks." Cameron smoothed out the plans and scanned them again. He looked at Ann and found her staring at him with a little smile on her face. She had to be thinking the same thing. The plans showed a basement with two levels with a number of large rooms.

  The perfect place to hide a Book of Days.

  "Could we make a copy of these plans?" Cameron said.

  The clerk's face paled. "No."

  "Why not? They're public record."

  The clerk smacked his lips with a series of rapid pops, as if it would help him make up a story as to why not. "The copier's busted."

  "Really? I used to work on them," Cameron said. "I bet I could—"

  "It's, uh, time for you two to leave."

  Ann puffed out a breath. "The sign says you close at 3:00 and it's only 2:20."

  "I have a lot to do to close up."

  "But this is a government building. You can't lock the doors until the hour stated on your sign."

  "Oh yes, yes, yes I can. If I have a government errand to run, which I do, I can lock up early."

  "I could get the copier fixed in a few minutes."

  The clerk waved his hand at Cameron, as if shooing away a hornet. "You have to leave. Right now."

  "We'd really like to get a copy."

  As the clerk kept shooing them away with his hand, Ann whispered, "We don't need a copy, trust me."

  "Why?"

  "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here before the clerk has a coronary."

  Cameron smiled. The bees didn't buzz unless you whacked the hive. And he wouldn't stop till he and Ann found the honey.

  The clerk picked up his phone on the first ring.

  "What did they want?"

  "The layout of Taylor's restaurant." The clerk squeezed the tip of his pencil as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  "Interesting. I was right." The phone hummed. "And did you make it seem like Taylor wouldn't want them to see those plans?"

  "Yes. I think I convinced them."

  "Good." The line went silent. "You've been an extremely loyal disciple, and that means a great deal to me. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "But just so we're clear, if you tell anyone anything about the, uh, observing you've been doing for me—and I mean anyone—I will slit your throat. Will that work for you?"

  "Yes. We're clear."

  "Excellent. I appreciate you."

  The line went dead.

  "Taylor has influence in this town, I'll give him that," Cameron said as they walked out the courthouse doors.

  "Considerable influence." Ann batted him on the arm. "Did you really work on copiers at one time?"

  "No."

  Ann smiled. "So what's our next step?"

  "I think we need to do a little late-night exploring."

  "You mean a little late-night breaking and entering." She glared at him. "Are you serious?"

  Cameron smiled. "But it's only a little exploration in a good friend's building. You think he'll mind?"

  "Hello?" Ann knocked on her head. "Yes, I think he'll mind."

  "I agree, but I can't worry about that. Tonight we're going to find an amazing book. I can feel it."

  CHAPTER 37

  A strong wind whipped down Main Street, powerful enough to give a slight bend to the lampposts spaced at twenty yard intervals. Cameron's parked MINI Cooper lurched back and forth as the wind buffeted the car. His window was open a crack and the wind whistled through the opening, as if it was trying to speak a warning.

  Ann scrunched down in the passenger seat—matching Cameron's own posture—giving little shakes of her head. She looked at him. Her eyes asked if they were really going to do something as ludicrous as break into Taylor's building. He imagined his own eyes said, "I'm not sure" in return.

  It was one in the morning; most of the town had been shut down for three hours. The only building still open was Take a Peak Tavern a quarter-mile down the road at the end of town, and there had been only three cars in the lot when they drove by ten minutes earlier.

  "I can't believe we're doing this," Ann said.

  "Why?"

  "Why?" She coughed out a laugh. "Other than the fact I could get fired for doing this and we could both wind up in jail, no reason at all. I'm sure the police would be sympathetic and Taylor would certainly understand why we ended up inside his building at this hour."

  "Early breakfast?"

  "We're going to be careful, right?"

  "Like little elves on Christmas Eve."

  "Elves make the presents, they don't deliver them." Ann shifted in her seat and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Sorry to repeat myself, but I don't want to end up in jail."

  "Then why are you doing this with me?"

  "I'm doing it for Jessie."

  "What?"

  "I can't believe I'm going to confess this." Ann rubbed her face with both hands. "I don't want the book to be real."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Ann turned and looked out the passenger-side window. "A few months after Jessie and I met in that foster home, she said she knew when she would die. Said she'd seen it when she was a kid. She didn't know the day, or method, but she knew the month and the year. I told her she was crazy."

  Ann hugged herself. "Over the years she'd bring the subject up, trying to tell
me it was part of God's plan, and I mocked her for it till she gave up."

  "Wow." Everyone had their secrets.

  "If the book turns out to be real, how do I tell Jessie I'm sorry? Even if it's not real, how do I tell her?"

  "She forgave you a long time ago." Cameron flicked his fingers. "It's gone."

  "I know it. I need to believe it." Ann patted her knees once. "Shall we go?"

  "I'll go in alone. You should stay on lookout—"

  "We already decided to do this together; don't go back on me now."

  "Ann, there's something I need to tell you first. We might be into something more dangerous than I thought. There's a guy who's been watching me."

  "Sunglasses, baseball hat, looks Native American?"

  "He's stalked you too?"

  "Well, I wouldn't say stalked exactly, but yes."

  "We need to be more careful than the elves."

  "Agreed."

  Cameron slowly squeezed his door handle, opened his door, and slid out. He pulled out his pack from the backseat, looked at Ann, and raised his eyebrows, as if to say one more time, "Are you sure?"

  Ann nodded, got out—her pack in hand—and darted across the rough asphalt street, Cameron close behind. They sliced through the alley between The Sail & Compass and the Three Peaks Hotel around to the back of the building.

  "I'm an idiot," Cameron said as they knelt next to the back door.

  "Why?"

  "I didn't remember to bring a glass cutter. We're going to have to break a window."

  Ann scrunched up her face. "Are you teasing me?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "We talked about not having to worry about bringing tools to break in."

  "We did?" Great. Another missing song from his brain's CD.

  "We did. Watch." Ann pulled out an eight-piece lock-pick set from her pack and grinned at Cameron. After a quick study of the lock in the doorknob, she chose two picks and leaned in, her ear millimeters away from the lock.

  She closed her eyes and seemed to be talking to herself. In less than thirty seconds the door was open. Ann bowed her head and extended her palm in invitation for Cameron to enter the building first.

  "Another unknown skill of the resourceful Ann Banister."