CHAPTER 22

Two hours later Cameron glanced at his watch, swore, and mashed his gas pedal. Three thirty-five. He should have been at Susan's five minutes ago. She probably wouldn't care, but he hated being late. Probably because it irritated him so much when people made him wait.

Cameron reached over to flick on the radio, but before he could, his cell phone buzzed. He picked it up and looked at the number. Ann. "Hey, how are you?"

"Great, how was your movie?"

"Fine. Yours?"

"Excellent." She paused. "Maybe next time we'll choose the same one."

There it was again. Friendly Ann was still onstage. Why? "Sounds good." What else could he say? Why are you suddenly being Cinderella to me after seven years of playing the Ice Queen?

"Guess who met a stalker this morning."

He clutched his steering wheel as an image of the figure from the park flashed through his head. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Was it Jason?"

"You win."

"Where?"

"In the mountains on an old dirt road. I went for a run and he followed me there. He's a whacko, Cameron."

Traffic in front of him stopped and as his Mini Cooper slowed to a halt, Cameron looked to his right. Climb-It Sports. A poster in the window showed a climber dangling from an overhang by his fingertips. There was no rope. The caption on the poster said, Leave It All Behind.

He thought of his moment on the mountain before he'd seen Ann in silhouette and how close he'd come to leaving it all behind. The thought still niggled at him, tempted him. He was making progress on finding the book, but to what end? Even if he got to the finish line, he might not have enough of a mind left to know if he'd won the race. His dad didn't say the book would cure him, only that it would be okay. What did that mean? Who would really miss him? Brandon, of course. And . . .

"Cameron?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No, sorry."

"After making me feel like I wanted to take three showers in a row, Jason told me something interesting."

"Talk to me." Cameron glanced at the chipped street sign a half a block ahead as the light turned green and traffic lurched forward into a lazy curve in the road. River Street. That was his turn to get to Susan's house.

"Did you know according to Jason, there are six spots in the world with a legend about a book that tells the future?"

Cameron gripped his steering wheel between his legs as he pulled a pen out of his back pocket and leaned over to the passenger seat and grabbed a piece of paper out of his briefcase. A second later the wheel slipped and his car headed into oncoming traffic. Two horns blared at him.

As he yanked the wheel to bring his car back into his lane, he lost his grip on his cell phone and it smacked against the gear shift before settling to the carpet at Cameron's feet.

He fished it off the floor, breathing in rapid little puffs. Hello, Mr. Death. How are you today? I was just thinking about coming to visit you. "Ann, you still there?"

"Are you all right?"

"Other than coming within inches of meeting another Three Peaker head-on, I'm dandy."

"Those horns were for you?"

"Yep. I was driving with my legs and the wheel slipped. Then I dropped my phone."

"Driving with your . . . You're insane. Don't you use a Bluetooth?"

Heat burned his cheeks. "When I remember to bring it with me."

"You're breaking the law."

"Sorry."

"Buy another one for your car. I don't want anything—"

No. He couldn't let her say she didn't want anything happening to him. He didn't need those emotions stirred up. "Can we get back on track?"

"Sure."

"I'll bet the places with the legend are the Middle East, South America, China, Scotland, Turkey, and Egypt."

"How did you know that?"

"Geology." Cameron pulled over to the side of the road and yanked out his notebook. "There's a seventh location, Ann."

"I know."

"And that seventh location is—"

In unison they said, "—Three Peaks, Oregon."

"Where's your interest meter pegging now?" Cameron asked.

"On a scale of one to ten, probably a twelve. This is getting entertaining."

"I'm headed to talk to Susan Hillman about a rock she gave me, then grab a bite and do some serious Google searches on those spots. Wanna meet me at the Ski Inn restaurant—?"

"Absolutely, say around seven?"

"You're perfect."

"I am?"

Cameron heard a smile in her voice.

Wow, where did that foray in the land of Freud come from? "What I meant is, that time is perfect."

"Hello, Cameron, have you prepared yourself to pepper me with all kinds of questions?" Susan looked up for a moment, then continued watering the baskets of rock penstemon flowers hanging in baskets above the four corners of her massive cedar porch.

"Maybe." He strolled up her steps and stopped at the top. "You weren't surprised to hear from me."

"No, I wasn't." She turned from her watering and tapped her head. "You're a smart young man. But I will admit I was surprised to hear from you as quickly as I did."

"You thought it would take me longer to discover the significance of the rock I chose?"

Susan nodded and set down her watering can. "I could suggest you keep delving deeper into the mystery of the stone, but you've already found out what you needed to discover in that arena. And I suppose I should confirm that Taylor Stone is one of the more significant keys to your quest. But again, you've figured that out by now."

Susan clapped her hands together. "So since you're already doing all the right things, I'm not sure what help I can be, but I'm certainly willing to try."

Two white wicker chairs sat at forty-five-degree angles to each other and Susan motioned for Cameron to sit. After asking him to hold his first question, she went into the house and returned a few minutes later with two Arnold Palmers.

"Here's how you can help immensely," he said after taking a sip of the iced tea-lemonade mixture. "While I'm enjoying my scavenger hunt, picking up one clue here, another there, I would not mind in the least if you simply told me the exact location of where the book sits." He cocked his head.

"Would you mind if we played a little game together?"

Cameron shrugged.

"The rules are simple. You ask me a question, I answer as honestly as I can. I ask you a question and you extend the same courtesy toward me."

"All right."

"You start." Susan brushed a strand of brown hair off her face.

"You just implied that the stone you gave me is connected to the Book of Days. Is it?"

"Of course."

"How?"

Susan shook her head and smiled. "My turn. What do you hope to gain by finding this book?"

Life. He wanted life instead of the agony of losing Jessie. He wanted answers, meaning, purpose. He wanted there to be a reason his dad left this world too soon. He wanted peace to replace his frustration . . . He wanted to relive the days and years Jessie and he had shared together . . . He wanted his mind to be restored—all the emotions converged into one.

"I want hope."

Susan's eyes misted over as she nodded. "What do you hope for?"

"Unh-uh." He wagged his finger. "My turn again."

Susan bowed her head slightly and opened her palms.

"Is the book real, or just some New Age dream, or some pseudo-scientific concoction like the Oregon Vortex?"

"I suppose many things are possible that we're tempted to say aren't." Susan held his gaze for a few seconds before looking down. "But I do believe there is a book in heaven—God's book—in which He has recorded each man and woman's life."

"What do you mean—?" Cameron cut himself off. "It's your turn."

"Go on. Ask. The question game is a silly one, only fun for the first few minutes, don't you think?"

"Jason said the Book of Days exists on a spiritual plane that he claims he's tapped into. Is that what you mean?"

"No."

A quiet confidence played in Susan's eyes.

"You think there is a God, and you think that He records every moment of every life? Even future events?"

She didn't hesitate. "Without question."

"You're saying you know it absolutely to be true?"

"People who claim to know there is a God and those who claim to know there isn't a God are more similar than either side would like to admit. I believe, yes, but do I know? For certain?" Susan shook her head, a gentle smile on her face. "No one can with 100-percent certainty, Cameron. Not till our days on earth end. So while I will be surprised if that book isn't in heaven, I won't know definitively till I get there."

A hummingbird hovered near Susan's feeder full of sugar water, flitting back and forth as if wondering if Cameron could be trusted. Finally it began to drink, but only for a few moments before streaking away again.

"That bird is the only species that can stay in one spot as it flies. The speed with which it moves its wings is mind boggling, up to ninety times per second. Some would say that ability came after millions of years of adaptation; others would unequivocally state the hummingbird is proof of intelligent design."

Cameron shifted and crossed his legs. "Which is it?"

"Man has longed to touch the infinite—or explain Him away—ever since Adam and Eve left the garden. In the end, as I suggested earlier, it comes down to what you choose to believe."

"Susan . . ." Cameron paused. The look on her face was not one of pity, but of longing. For what he couldn't tell. But it wasn't for herself. It was for him. "Thank you, once again, for your time and your wisdom."

She leaned forward and took both his hands in hers. "Let me say, for me, the critical question is not whether God's Book of Days is here on earth or in heaven, but if it does exist, what kind of lives are we recording in it?"

As he stood and contemplated Susan's musings, the hummingbird returned, not hesitating to drink more of the nectar, even though Cameron had leaned closer to the feeder.

"I have always celebrated men and women with passion, and I see you have passion." Susan smiled and her head fell back. "The path life takes us down isn't always where we would choose to go, but in the end, it is possible to wind up where we wanted to be anyway."

He wanted his brain back. Was that possible?