Jim Rubart Trilogy

by James L. Rubart

  He shook his head. "You never wanted anything to do with climbing. I never imagined you would get into it."

  "That makes two of us." She walked toward him, auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders.

  "But you did."

  "I hated it at first. I think I still do. But it's a way to be close to Jessie. You know what I mean?"

  Cameron nodded. He knew.

  "I didn't know you were climbing again."

  The fear from the climb still hung on him like a concrete robe; she had to see it in his eyes and notice his leg bouncing like a jackhammer. But if she did, Ann didn't let on.

  "I only stopped for about six months." He shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. "What about you?"

  Ann folded her arms and tapped her foot. "I started a year and a half ago. I still have a ton to learn."

  "Hey, I'm assuming you just scaled this peak solo since no one else is up here, and if you did, you've got a pretty fast download going."

  "That climb was a bit outside my comfort zone. Actually a lot outside." Ann paced, five yards away. "It's interesting to see you up here."

  Interesting? What, she didn't think he could handle the climb? "You too." Cameron gazed out over the valley spread out below them like a golden-brown silk river, splotches of green spread randomly throughout. She was probably waiting for him to say something, but what? The only noise was a light wind straining to get through the pine trees dotting the ridge just behind them.

  "I watched you catch your breath for a few minutes about a third of the way up. How long did it take you to get up here?"

  Cameron's face flushed. If she only knew. He rubbed his forehead and coughed. "About an hour."

  "I wish I could climb with that speed. I've focused on the sport intensely for the past eighteen months, but I feel like I've plateaued." She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it. "I've heard of climbers with natural talent. I am not one of those fortunate souls."

  Ann offered him a bottle of Powerade from her climbing pack and he accepted. After a few moments of silence, she got up, eased over to the edge of the cliff, and sat with her legs hanging over it.

  After a few seconds' hesitation, he got up and joined her.

  Ann peered at him out of the corner of her eye. "So, will we be able to get along for the next week or so?"

  "You tell me, Banister. Our relationship has never been bathed in a great deal of warmth."

  She shrugged. "I think we'll be fine."

  "I hope so."

  "I should let you know, I'm not here just to help you find out more about your dad's and Jessie's book."

  "Really."

  She folded her hands and looked at the sky.

  "Are you going to tell me about it?"

  "I want to try to find information on someone who lived here in the sixties and early seventies." She tapped the tips of her fingers together.

  "Who?"

  "My mom."

  Interesting. "Okay."

  "Jessie never told you my history?"

  "Not much."

  "I'm an only child and I have no idea who my dad was. He was gone before I was two. When I was seven, my mom hooked up with a loser from Shelton, Washington, and we lived there with him till I was eleven." Ann pulled at the thin band of silver in her right ear. "That's when my mom abandoned me for good."

  "It was a drug overdose if I remember right."

  Ann nodded. "I was so angry at her I refused to go to the funeral." She closed her eyes. "I'm still angry."

  She shook her head. "Two months later I came home from school one day and found all my things on the front lawn. The guy was gone. Ten minutes later it started raining just like in some sappy movie.

  "But for me it wasn't sappy. In that moment I realized I was alone in the world. I cried nonstop till Mrs. Carie next door came over and took me in for the night. The next day I was baptized into the foster-care system. As you probably remember, that's where I met Jessie. She's the only family I had."

  Wow. She was an orphan.

  Ann leaned forward, head down. "Once I was in college I never looked back. Until now. I don't know if I have any uncles or aunts or cousins, and at this stage of life—you know, turning thirty-two, thinking about having kids of my own—I'd really like to know something of my family history."

  In that instant Ann became utterly human. It didn't matter that she'd never liked him. She knew pain, loneliness. The same pain he carried, the same loneliness. Cameron started to speak, then thought better of it. A disclosure of that nature needed a moment to settle.

  Ann stood and brushed nonexistent dirt off her climbing shorts. She walked over to her pack and grabbed two PowerBars. She tossed one to Cameron and unwrapped the other in a swift motion.

  "Both sets of my grandparents died before I was born. What are the odds of that? So I have no family. Period. Now you'd think someone in the media would be able to find the story of who my grandparents were and some history on my mom, but it didn't turn out that way. She wasn't exactly what you'd call a record keeper. But I've kept digging and finally a bit of luck led me here." She wiped her nose with a tissue. "I'm hoping to find someone who knew my mom before she left for Washington."

  Cameron stole a quick look at her profile as she watched a white-throated swift flit about the ground, searching for anything the climbers might have dropped. Ann's lack of makeup allowed her freckles to stand out and it made her more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

  As Ann asked questions about the town, the sensation of knowing exactly what she looked like as a little girl immersed him. The innocence that growing up pushes out of most men and women still flitted behind her eyes and into her smile.

  Cameron told her what he'd learned so far about the town and when he'd finished, she sat back and pulled one knee up to her chest and simply said, "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. I hope you find what you're looking for."

  Ann turned and leaned in toward him. "Now, it's your turn."

  "Mine? For what?"

  "To tell me about your plan for finding the book and what you've discovered already."

  When he finished she said, "So you think Jason is the key?"

  "No." Cameron rubbed his kneecaps and smiled. "Taylor is. With him it feels like I've made progress, and with you here I'm hoping we'll make even more."

  "I used to read Taylor Stone's syndicated column in The Oregonian."

  "He's a writer?"

  "He ran the Three Peaks Post for years."

  That's right. Cameron knew that.

  "You don't really think there's anything to this Book of Days story, do you?"

  "It depends on the moment you ask." Cameron sniffed a laugh. "Sometimes I can't believe I'm doing this; other times I think there actually might be something to the legend." Cameron whapped himself on the head with both hands. "Am I crazy? What do you think?"

  Ann shrugged. "I believe what I said at the party last night. It's gotta be a legend."

  "Even with Jessie saying she saw it?"

  Ann stood and folded her arms across her chest. "You and I both know Jessie occasionally saw visions from God."

  "But you believe all the God-things that Jessie and my dad believed."

  "Jessie wasn't a full-out Christian mystic, but she liked reading them and that's the way her faith leaned. I've never gone down that path."

  Cameron rubbed the ring finger on his left hand. "She was always asking me to go down that road with her."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "I've never had anything against God. It was great for Jessie, great for my dad, probably good for you too. I've just never seen how He could exist."

  "What about now?"

  It was an excellent question. "Maybe He's out there. But I wo
uldn't know where to start looking."

  Ann cracked her knuckles and smiled. "I could offer some suggestions."

  The fights they'd had over his marrying Jessie raced into his mind.

  "You're a good guy, Cameron, but you don't follow Jesus so you shouldn't marry Jessie."

  "All you're going to do is hurt her."

  Cameron turned and raised his eyebrows. "Like the suggestions you used to give me all the time when Jessie and I were dating?"

  Ann clasped her hands. "I see some of your memories from the past are still crystal clear."

  Cameron rolled his eyes.

  A few moments later Ann stuck out her hand. "Truce?"

  Cameron looked into her riveting green eyes as he took her hand. "Sure."

  He watched the late-morning sun play tag with the clouds as a breeze brought the perfume of ponderosa pine up from the valley.Cameron let his senses get swept away in it. It felt strange sitting next to Ann, alone, miles from anyone or anything. It also felt comforting.

  And wonderful.

  And wrong.

  What if years ago Ann had invited him to a play before Jessie asked him to learn to rock climb? Would he be sitting here with a ring on his finger?

  Stop it, Cameron.

  He needed to keep his distance from her. Find out if the book was real as fast as possible, then get back to Seattle. He would never betray Jessie by having feelings for Ann. Never.

  CHAPTER 16

  On the drive back to Three Peaks, Cameron popped his steering wheel with his palm and blew out an exasperated breath. He'd told Ann he was making progress. What progress? If he could get Stone to talk, Cameron might get somewhere. But what if he couldn't?

  "Jessie, what would you do?"

  He laughed and contemplated having a conversation with God. That's exactly what Jessie would do. Could he do that while driving? How important was it to pray with eyes closed? Was that a requirement? Of course Jessie had prayed all the time with her eyes open, so it was probably all right.

  He pulled up to a stoplight and rubbed his neck.

  Two adults and three kids on matching bikes crossed in front of him, probably on their way to Indian Loop Road. The Fun To-Do guide in his room said it was a favorite of locals and tourists. The kind of trail he'd dreamed of going down with Jessie and their kids someday. "Thanks for killing that dream, God." There, he'd prayed.

  The light turned green, and as he eased down on the gas, he decided to give prayer a real shot.

  "I have no concept of how to talk to You. But if You really wrote a book, stuck it here in Three Peaks, and it's the one my dad and Jessie talked about and it really exists, I'd appreciate some help finding it. Thanks."

  Ironic that he would end up here trying to find the answers to life. Jessie had loved Central Oregon as a kid. She came down at least twice with her church group, or was it Girl Scouts? She'd even asked him a few years ago about going back. Hadn't she? Didn't she say it was important they come here together? He gritted his teeth. He couldn't remember. Too much fuzz covered what little was left of the memory.

  What should be his next move? On the cliff they'd decided Ann would stop by the library that afternoon and see if she could dig up anything he hadn't been able to find, but what should he do? He'd talked to all the possible leads in town—which had gotten him nowhere—except for his conversation with Taylor Stone. But getting Stone to help with his quest would be like swimming through concrete.

  "I'm getting tired, Jessie."

  He wasn't any closer to the book than when he'd arrived, and Brandon expected him to be back in Seattle in a little over a week. Cameron popped the steering wheel again. He needed answers now. Somehow. Some way.

  He stopped for a long, late lunch and didn't arrive back at his hotel till four thirty. He tossed his keys and wallet on the desk and scanned his room. Something was out of place. Wait, not out of place—missing.

  Where was his notebook? Didn't he leave it on the desk? It wasn't there. He glanced at the floor. The cleaning staff might have knocked it—no, not there. Not on the nightstand either.

  He sucked in a breath and blew it out quickly as heat filled his body. Think! Where was it?

  He wiped his forehead as he strode into the bathroom. Had he set the file on the sink?

  Nothing. Not there.

  Come on . . . Ah, there it was, resting at the base of the overstuffed chair next to the window. He snatched it up. "Don't go disappearing on me. I need y—"

  Cameron stopped as he flipped it open and stared at a blank notepad. All his notes were gone, ripped cleanly out.

  Another wave of heat coursed through him. A threatening letter was one thing; stealing his notes took things to another level.

  He glanced around the room. Nothing else was out of place. At least that he remembered. And everything in the closet seemed to be there.

  Cameron strode to the window and yanked back the curtains, as if the intruder would be standing under a streetlamp staring up at him.

  The street was empty, but it didn't stop a shiver from running down his back.

  He spun and smacked the chair.

  He needed his notes!

  He flopped into the chair and didn't know whether to scream or laugh. He was getting behind somebody's curtain, and that person wanted to kick him out of the theater. But Cameron had a ticket and wasn't about to leave.

  After a long shower he glanced at his watch. Five thirty. Too early to catch a movie in the Five Pine campus at the east end of town.

  He stared out his window and saw the banner promoting the jazz festival. It had just started. Hadn't he looked at the banner a few days ago? Yes. He remembered. A miracle.

  Why not stroll down and listen for a while? It was better than sitting in his hotel room, wondering who had broken in for a second time and trying to ignore the nauseous gurgling that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach.

  About halfway to the park, he caught the sound of a band. A guitarist was playing riffs in fine Robert-Cray style, and the faint smell of barbecued chicken tantalized his taste buds.

  There had to be at least five-hundred people spread out on blue and green and red checkered blankets or sitting in lawn chairs, bottles of red wine at their sides or pitchers filled with what looked like iced tea.

  People sat in large groups, talking and laughing, kids running from blanket to blanket acting like everyone was their mom or dad, sister or brother. One of the amazing aspects of a small town. Community was real. You knew your neighbors and everyone in town was a neighbor.

  So different from his life in Seattle, where he had a lot of acquaintances but not many deep friendships. He'd always envied Jessie in that regard. She had a big group of God-buddies who would do anything for her.

  Cameron was about to sit on a gray, faded picnic table on the edge of the crowd when he noticed two familiar profiles to his left: Taylor Stone and the lady who must be his wife.

  As Cameron eased over to them, she smiled, whispered something to Taylor, and motioned for Cameron to join them on their checkered picnic blanket.

  Taylor glanced at Cameron as he approached but stared straight ahead as Cameron sat next to him. "Still in town I see," Taylor said.

  "For a while longer."

  "Hello, Cameron. I'm Tricia, Taylor's wife." She leaned across Taylor and offered her hand. "I've heard positive things about you."

  "Really?" Cameron grasped her hand. "Good to meet you."

  "Are you a jazz aficionado perchance?" Taylor continued to stare straight ahead at the five-piece band.

  "No, but I have a few CDs of the legends."

  "Who do you consider legendary?"

  "Coltrane, Miles Davis, Charlie Parker . . . and a few others."

  Taylor raised his eyebro
ws.

  "If Taylor were to admit it, he'd heartily approve of your choices. Good to have you join us." Tricia patted Taylor's knee as she looked at Cameron. "How is your search going?"

  "For?"

  "The Book of Days, of course."

  "Everyone knows everyone else's business in a small town, don't they?"

  "For the most part." Tricia smiled. "And your search?"

  "Stymied. The people who talk about it only say the same things Jason says."

  "Not surprising." Taylor eyes stayed locked on the band.

  "Oh, really?"

  "If you go to Roswell and asked about the alien landing, the only people who are talking about it are the ones trying to make a buck by plucking it from your wallet. The others are bored with the whole thing." Taylor sipped his tea. "Now that you've sliced open the hornets' nest with talk of your dad touching a real book, Jason and all the other whack jobs associated with Future Current will be searching for this genuine Book of Days till they bring Walt Disney's frozen body back from the dead. But they'll never find it."

  Tricia offered Cameron a glass of iced tea, which he accepted.

  "Once Jason drops out of sight, another New Ager will dig up the Book of Days story and continue the quest. We'll probably never be rid of it." Taylor drilled him with a frown and turned back to the band.

  "Do you think Jason wants me to leave?"

  "Are you kidding? You've handed him what he would call solid evidence that there's a physical book . . . No, he'd be the first member on your Book of Days Facebook fan page."

  "I see. So it doesn't make sense that he or one of his followers would send me an unsigned note that somehow showed up on my hotel bed, threatening me harm if I don't get out of Three Peaks?"

  An emotion flashed across Taylor's face, almost too fast for Cameron to see it. If he hadn't been staring right at Taylor, he would have missed it. Concern? Recognition? Anger? He couldn't tell. But it was enough to decide Taylor had sent the note.

  "When did you get the letter?" Tricia asked.

  "Yesterday."

  "Did you report it?"

  "No, I took it as a positive sign. That I'm on the right track. A hornet doesn't sting unless you're pounding on the nest."