“Where was the surgery?” Micah said.
A second later he knew the answer. Before the doctor could tell him, he said, “Portland, wasn’t it?”
“Starting to come back to you, eh?”
“I never lived in Portland. Why would I go there for surgery?”
“But you remember it?”
“Yes. No.” Micah held his temples. “I don’t know.”
“None of my business, partner, but I’m wondering if you need a little help with the ol’ cranium to go along with your ankle. I know some good docs in that department.”
Micah tried to smile and shook the doctor’s hand. “If I go that direction, you’ll be the first to know. Thanks for all the help on my ankle.”
||||||||
When Micah got home, he headed for the voice room. “All right, tell me, do you remember us tearing up our ankle?”
“No and yes. I remember bits and pieces just like you. Nothing more.”
“We have to figure this thing out.”
“Meaning?” the voice said.
“Meaning if we’re both getting flashbacks of something happening to our ankle, then maybe something really did happen to our ankle.”
“Well, certainly the physical evidence is there.” The voice chuckled.
Micah paced just inside the door; three steps to the right, turn, then three steps back. “But whose life is it? Not ours. Not when the operation happened in Portland and we never lived there.”
“But when we feel our ankle—?”
“—we know something tangible happened at some point in our life that produced evidence on the X-rays and caused this pain.”
“Exactly,” the voice said.
“So where is that other life coming from? If it’s just in my head, then I’m crazy and we have our answer. But the physical evidence keeps piling up.”
“Like the magazine cover.”
Micah stopped pacing, closed his eyes, and sat down, back against the wall. “I’m sitting in his office with no memories of an ankle injury. Then right before leaving, I start seeing little fragments, like half a second of physical therapy, then a flash of a pickup football game where I think it happened. But I can’t tell you where or when. Then I get an image of maple wood crutches in my hands but only for an instant. Then it’s all gone, and I can’t tell if I’m remembering real memories, or if I’ve made it up inside my head to keep myself sane. You know, we have to consider the very real possibility we’re losing it.”
“We’re not.”
“Really? Are you saying people who go insane are fully aware when it’s happening to them?”
“Trust me, Micah. We’re not going insane.”
“So what’s the solution?” Micah sighed.
“Simple, as I’ve said before. We land on the side of wisdom and make sure things are okay up in Seattle. We go up there and stay put for a while.”
“The Lord is becoming the most important thing in my entire life. I’m just supposed to leave that in a closet down here? And what about Sarah? We’re a little more than casual friends at this point.”
“Let me repeat what I’ve said too many times before. I’m not saying stop coming down entirely. I’m saying we take a break. Who cares if the board gave us this time? It’s killing us. Let’s go home, get things under control, make sure this parallel life stops sticking its head in where it doesn’t belong, and get settled.”
“And come back when?”
“When we’re ready. Maybe it’s a month, maybe two; we won’t know how long till we know.”
Micah shook his head and sneered. “It’s easier for you.”
“Really?”
“You haven’t bought into the whole heal-the-brokenhearted, set-the-captives-free thing like I have. You’re not feeling what I am. It’s easier for you to leave all this.”
“And maybe it’s easier for you to see our world in Seattle slowly disappear than it is for me,” the voice said.
“Neither place would be easy to give up at this point.”
“We don’t give up either one. We come down here every other weekend. Or every third weekend.”
Micah stared into the darkness. The voice clearly contradicted itself, and Micah didn’t know why. Maybe it was due to the bizarre fact the voice was himself, so his uncertainty was bound to make the conversation a bit schizophrenic. Whatever the reason, Micah was tired, and his ankle still ached.
“You know,” Micah called over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “sometimes the way you think pushes me to the brink of sanity.”
No answer.
Maybe he should stop listening to himself. Maybe he’d do what he wanted to. Maybe he’d stay in Cannon Beach forever.
Impossible. He couldn’t give up what he’d created in Seattle.
To stay. To go.
He needed a sign.
CHAPTER 33
When Micah stepped out on his front porch the next morning, he found a box wrapped in white paper with a bleached white sand dollar on top. He opened the small card attached to one side and smiled.
Micah,
For you.
Love,
Sarah
He took the box out onto his deck, the roar of the ocean providing background music as he opened it. Inside he found a dolphin carved out of teakwood. Micah smiled. Perfect. He carried it with him as he picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Can I come over?” Micah asked.
“You got it, hmm?”
“You’re amazing, Sarah.”
“Thanks, so are you. And yes, come over.”
They spent the day talking, laughing, strolling on the beach, then stopped at Morris’s Fireside for a quick dinner that lasted three-and-a-half hours. After that another walk along the beach at the edge of the water, counting the campfires; little orange markers for families making memories.
“I have two serious cravings,” Micah said as they walked hand in hand toward Haystack Rock.
“For?”
“S’mores and s’more of you.”
“Bad pun, bad, Micah. Really, really bad.” Sarah snuggled her head into his shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I don’t agree.”
Twenty minutes later they sat on the bluff in front of Micah’s house burning marshmallows and sticking them in between graham crackers and squares of chocolate.
“S’mores are better with dark chocolate,” Sarah said.
“Not a chance.” Micah stuffed the last of his third s’more into his mouth.
“So, if you get married someday, will you let your kids make their own choices? Whether to put milk or dark chocolate into their s’mores?”
Micah put another marshmallow on his homemade roasting stick and held it close to where the coals burned red. “How many kids do you want?”
Sarah stared into the fire and swallowed. “Who says I want any?”
“No one. But if you did?”
Sarah pulled off the shell of a burnt marshmallow revealing the pure-white sugar ball underneath. “Three. One boy, one girl, and one for chance to decide.”
“Sounds perfect.” Micah sat in the beautiful awkwardness of what they had just said to each other without really saying it and smiled. He wondered what Sarah was thinking. But not really. He knew. At least he hoped he did.
After he finished his fourth s’more, he pulled her close and gave her a kiss that lingered on his lips long after he pulled away. “Life would be utterly incomplete without you.”
“I agree.” She buried her head in his chest and held him tight.
||||||||
Micah went to bed that night feeling better than he had in days. Being around Sarah always settled him. He’d said life would be incomplete without her, but a more accurate description was she completed his life like no woman ever had. The next time he was in Seattle, he’d have to stop by E.E. Robbins. Just to see what kind of engagement rings were out there.
Sarah, his relationship with the Lord, his friendship
with Rick, the beauty of Cannon Beach—RimSoft could wait. Couldn’t it? The problem was, there was no way to know for sure. Parts of his world up there could vanish without him knowing it till he got there. A sliver of fear worked its way into his mind.
He needed Archie’s next letter to be a good one.
September 13, 1991
Dear Micah,
Again I give you just one verse from Scripture today as the whole content of this letter. But it is a verse full of power and desire.
“God Almighty will be your treasure, more wealth than you can imagine.” (Job 22:25 The Message)
After you allow this piece of Scripture to sink down into your heart, I trust you will know which room you are to go to. Inside that room is the treasure of the Kingdom. Let me repeat myself: The treasure of God’s Kingdom is contained in that room.
Joining in His relentless love toward you,
Archie
Micah sat on his deck for a long time, meditating on the verse. He wanted to leap up and rush to the brilliant room, but he restrained himself, knowing the verse Archie had given him was not to be simply read but digested and savored before being acted on.
After an hour he rose from his chair, walked inside and upstairs to the door he longed to enter. The room had captured his mind, emotions, and deep parts of his heart. He had little doubt answers were inside.
Since his entry partway into the door two weeks ago, there had been no progress. He hadn’t even been able to get that far again, and the door remained ordinary wood. But now, with Archie’s letter and the verse as support, he held on to the hope that this time he would enter completely.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he saw movement on the surface of the door. Colors swirled like a slow-spinning galaxy of gold and silver. He pressed forward as if his feet were in honey. The instant the index finger of his left hand touched the door, he was caught up in a whirlpool of warmth, and his eyes closed involuntarily.
Peace consumed him. There were no cares, no worries, only an overwhelming sense of rightness and love—as if infinite joy surrounded him, reaching deeper into his body every moment. He moved forward, one step, two steps, three steps, as if the door were liquid. But he still wasn’t inside.
And he wasn’t in the hall.
As impossible as it seemed, he stood contained inside the door. The sensation was like being underwater, with the temperature a perfect balance between warm and cool. The door seemed to move around him, and although his eyes were closed, he sensed the light grow brighter with each step forward. There was no sensation of breathing, although he must have been, somehow.
He opened his fingers wide and waved them. Yes, the atmosphere was like water. He pressed forward again, but this time Micah couldn’t go any farther. Seconds later an ever-so-slight pressure built in front of him and nudged him backward out into the hallway, like a mother laying a sleeping child into its crib after holding it close.
He opened his eyes. The door was normal again, with no indication of what had just happened. An impression shot into his mind. Soon he would fully enter the room.
||||||||
As Micah walked out onto the beach, he made a decision. Cannon Beach was where he must stay. His voice was wrong. No matter what might be happening in Seattle, it was not worth leaving what God was doing inside him. Yes, he would go back to Seattle to check in on things soon, but this would be his base of operations for the foreseeable future.
That night Micah ate seafood fettuccine with smoked salmon while he told Rick in detail about the brilliant room.
“You know what’s inside there, don’t you?” Micah said.
“I think I might. But it would be a breach of our friendship to tell you.” Rick smiled. “It’s a discovery you need to make for yourself. Plus I could be wrong.”
Rick’s confidence was encouraging, but it frustrated Micah not being able to speed up the process. God was not someone you rushed. Got that. But how long would he have to wait? A week? A month? He wanted discovery now.
Driving home he tried to tell himself his world was perfect, but the fear needling the corners of his mind wouldn’t let him. Micah sensed something was coming. And it wouldn’t be anywhere near perfection.
CHAPTER 34
Micah was convinced Rick knew exactly what was inside the brilliant room. But how could he get Rick to tell him?
Thursday afternoon Micah shuffled down Main Street, brainstorming an answer when a voice sliced through his mind like a knife, spinning his thoughts in an entirely new direction.
“Micah?”
He knew that voice. Micah turned. Ten feet away a woman wearing khaki shorts and a blue tank top scuttled toward him. She pushed a stroller; the features of the child inside made it obvious she was the mother.
“It is you, Micah. I can’t believe it. Really, truly can’t believe it! I always wondered if we’d bump into each other again. I mean you said you’d probably settle somewhere up on the northern coast, but we never get up here, till now of course. And well, I thought if we ever did, wouldn’t it be a kick if I ran into you? But I never expected it to actually happen and now—”
The woman threw her head back and laughed, then threw both arms around him and squeezed. “I’m sorry, listen to me going on like a jukebox packed with quarters. Tell me about you. My gosh, how long has it been? Too long, of course. Wow.”
Micah stepped back, hoping the woman couldn’t tell the grin on his face was pure plastic. Did he know her? He knew the voice, but her? Wait. Maybe. As he stared into her eyes, shards of memories slipped into his mind like scenes from different childhood TV shows all out of context with each other.
The woman waved her hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?”
“No, I mean yes. Good.” He forced out a laugh. “It’s just a shock to see you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. After all this time, right? We promised we’d definitely stay in touch, didn’t we?” The woman held up her fist with her thumb and pinkie finger sticking out as if it were a telephone. “But nah, neither one of us. Well, that’s life. Wow, you look good. Catch me up! What have you been doing with your life? Where’d you go when we headed for different ends of the earth?”
More memories surfaced. Late-night walks with her somewhere, along narrow beaches? The ocean? Yes. How long ago? Seven, eight years ago? More? Less? “I live in Seattle. I started a software company.”
“You’re kidding. Software? Really? That tweaks my mind, I gotta tell you. Didn’t think you’d ever go that direction, not with the passion you had for your—”
“Wahhh!” The woman’s baby split the air with piercing cries in rhythm with the tapping feet of a man standing behind her.
One glance at the perfectly pressed maroon polo shirt, spotless tan slacks, and a frown line to match told Micah this guy was the jealous type and didn’t appreciate the enthusiasm this woman was pouring out.
“Uh, honey, more than two people here,” the man said.
A slight grimace ran across the woman’s face before she turned toward the man. “Right, right, right. Honey, this is Micah Taylor. We dated for a while years and years ago; I probably told you about him one time or another. Micah, this is my husband, and this is my little prince.” She lifted the baby out of his stroller and set him on her hip.
“Passion for what?” Micah said.
“What?”
“Passion for what?” he repeated.
“I’m sorry you lost me. What passion for what? You mean, what am I passionate about?”
“No, you said something about being surprised I started a software company because of my passion for . . .”
“Oh, right. Yes, yes, yes.” She laughed as she set the baby back down in the stroller and wrapped a dark blue blanket around him. “Don’t tell me you’ve abandoned it. I never saw you giving up your dream.”
The woman’s husband cleared his throat without much subtlety, and she whipped around to face him. “Honey, don’t get your knickers twisted into bunc
hes. We’ll go in just a second. I just want to get Micah’s info so we don’t lose touch for another six years.”
They exchanged e-mail addresses as he tried to put the puzzle pieces together. He wouldn’t be able to question her in detail, not with Igor standing over them like a Puritan chaperone at a high school dance.
“Gottta run, Micah. Great seeing you. Don’t give up the dream.”
“What was the dream?”
“As if you didn’t know!” She laughed and clipped away.
Was it impossible for anyone to give him a clear answer? If not software, what was the dream?
||||||||
When Micah got home, he walked through the house not going anywhere in particular, looking for—hoping for—inspiration and answers. He wound up looking down the hallway that led to the painting room.
Good idea. Time to see if anything’s changed.
He eased open the door and the painting came into view. Definite changes; subtle, but significant. The outline of two people had been added at the left edge of the painting, and near the water it looked like a little boy would build a sand castle.
“Take me into that panorama, Lord.”
The next thought followed quickly. What had he lost in Seattle?
Micah called Shannon and made up a paper-thin excuse for checking in. Once again she told him things were fine at RimSoft. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe perfection had landed on him like a butterfly and would stay forever. He hung up somewhat reassured but still uneasy. No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling of disaster rumbling inside.
After dinner Micah sank back in his overstuffed chair in the great room and tried to drift off. He was tired of thinking, tired of praying, tired of trying to figure out what God was doing to his life.
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