Part 5 (2/2)
”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 s.h.i.+rt 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.”
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