Part 9 (2/2)
”Suddenly there is an openness between us that was not there previously. We spoke, we saw, yet with those items removed we feel closer to the other, with a greater ability to communicate, wouldn't you agree? The simple act of removing those things between us made our connection stronger.
”It is the same with the book. To access it fully, we must rid ourselves of the things in the world that block us. E-mail, Facebook, TV, movies, our fears. We must get rid of the noise and free our minds.”
Jason placed his hands on the table, leaned back, and took in a long breath through his nose and let it out even slower. ”When we slow down, we start to receive the spiritual impressions all around us in every moment. We see pictures in our mind's eye; visions that are sent to us from the book fill our hearts. Visions of our past and future. We record them and test them against what the rest of us have seen and heard.”
Jason waved his hand through the air. ”The curtain is thinner here in Three Peaks than almost anywhere else, making it easier to access G.o.d's book.”
Cameron felt like he'd been dropped in a glacial lake. So the Book of Days was just another made-up religious fantasy? No wonder his dad had talked about it. G.o.d was his whole life. Same with Jessie.
Cameron swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. He'd wanted so badly to believe it was real.
”What's wrong?” Jason said.
The book was a figment of Jason's imagination, another eccentric chapter from the pantheon of New Age mysticism. So what had his dad seen? Jessie? What had they thought thought they'd seen? they'd seen?
”I thought the book was real. Physical. Something you could see.”
”It is real. It's-”
”No, not your kind of real. My kind.” Cameron picked up his cup and his napkin. ”Something you could get a coffee stain on.”
”And what made you think it was that kind of book?”
”My dad said he'd seen it, touched it.”
”Touched it?” Jason leaned forward and an eager look flashed through his eyes. ”And you believe your father?”
”I believe he believed it when he told me.”
”When did he say he saw it?”
”When he was nine, before his family moved away from Three Peaks.”
”Fascinating.” Jason steepled his hands and rubbed the bottom of his chin with the tips of his fingers. ”There are some who believe as you do. I've never been able to decide one way or another.
”I've prayed for evidence that the book exists on more than just the spiritual plane. I even dug into old Native American stories from these parts, thinking I might find something there. The Paiute tribe who filled this land is full of them.”
Jason leaned forward.
”But the only thing I've found on the book is a scant legend that tells of a place where stories are told of the past and the future.” Jason slumped back in his seat. ”I tracked down a few of the older members of the Paiute tribe still living in these parts, but they apparently don't know their own history, at least not this legend.
”The only semiverification I found was from one old-timer living in the mountains near here who said, 'Yes, I have heard of the legend, but that is all I can tell you.' Hardly substantive confirmation of a physical Book of Days.”
”What was his name?”
”George or Graham or something like that. Does it matter?” Jason drummed his fingers on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle.
”But in my wildest dreams I've always hoped the book was existent, and you have now fanned the flames of that emotion. I believe we've been brought together to explore that possibility, yes?”
Cameron stared at Jason. Brought together? No. The man had a vibe about him that said sprint in the opposite direction, as if a swarm of wasps were closing in. But if Jason could help find out if his dad's last words were real...
”So will you join me, Cameron?”
”I'll consider it.”
”I served in Vietnam.” Jason twirled his knife around on the table with his forefinger. ”I dispatched men there. I would be a formidable collaborator.”
”You're saying you'd kill to find this book?” Cameron c.o.c.ked an eyebrow.
Jason smiled and shook his head. ”I simply want you to realize the pa.s.sion I bring to this quest. This book is far more than simply a tome of answers about the past, about the future. All the tormenting questions that pound your mind in the deepest shadows of the night. Every one of them answered. This book holds all the memories you've ever created.”
Jason drew his knife slowly across his palm and then placed the tip of it on his forefinger and pressed until it appeared deep enough to be touching bone. ”If it exists on a physical plane, it's worth doing almost anything to find it.”
A surge of hope filled Cameron and caught him off guard. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
”Are you quite well, my friend?”
Cameron nodded. But he wasn't okay. His rational, logical side said the book couldn't exist-that his dad was delusional, that Jessie had been speaking out of the emotions surrounding imminent death-but his emotional side screamed of what the book could do for him if Jason's claims were true.
Until that moment he hadn't admitted, even in his darkest moments, how much the idea of this book meant to him. He would get his memories of Jessie back, know if he would suffer the same fate as his father, and even see what he could salvage of the rest of his life.
His dad said it might heal his mind. Finding the book meant everything.
”I'm fine.”
”Pa.s.sion is the fuel that drives great discovery.” Jason waggled his forefinger back and forth between them. ”I think our pa.s.sions can complement each other.”
”I don't know.”
”You will join me, Cameron, if not now, then someday. You want the book too much. You need me. It's only a matter of time.”
”If we were to work together, what would the next steps be?”
”Good, good.” Jason patted the tips of his fingers together three times, then pointed at Cameron. ”There's a man in town I've always wondered about. Things have happened around him that have always made me ponder if he knows more about the Book of Days than he's told.”
”Like?”
”He grew up with Midas touching his every choice. As if he knew what would happen before it did. It's always caused my curiosity to be stirred.”
”So why don't you talk to him?”
”I've tried, many times, but the best of friends would not be the language used to describe our relations.h.i.+p. He likes to control people, and I'm not one who can be controlled.”
”What's his name?”
”I think you can guess. Arnold Peasley should have given you a clue.”
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