Since that dinner at his house, Sarah had known it was Micah. She was drawn in, without logic or explanation. Oh, the man he could be if he would choose life!
He was bright, funny, handsome. But what drew her was more. Deeper. It had God’s fingerprints on it. Rick said not to push it and not to hold back. Which one had she done by answering Micah’s question? She feared the former.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she stopped walking and fixed her gaze on the horizon where the ocean and the sky met. The waves were too loud to tell if Micah was still behind her or if he had walked silently away.
The next moment his arms slid around the sides of her waist from behind and pulled her back gently into his chest. He nuzzled her hair away from her cheek and kissed her there like the first ray of morning sun.
She turned, and this time his kiss was on her lips. Warm. Tender. Lingering. A long embrace followed that wrapped around her like a waterfall of comfort, drowning out the sound of the ocean, the wind, and everything else in her world. She was home.
A moment later her tears spilled onto her cheeks. If only it could last.
CHAPTER 23
Over the next week Micah took Sarah on two mountain bike rides and out to dinner three times. They watched Singin’ in the Rain, Casablanca, and Pride & Prejudice in his media room, followed each time by a walk on the beach and kisses that probably would have made anyone watching blush. He talked with her for hours about the house, not everything but enough to clear his head and hear her always-wise insights.
They talked more about their plan to do the STP bike race together next summer and maybe a triathlon as well. They definitely would hit the slopes as soon as Mount Bachelor opened their full set of chairlifts.
“You’ll make me look so bad on the snow,” Micah said as they strolled through the soft sand.
“Yep, I sure will.” Sarah laughed, grabbed him around the waist, and pulled him to the ground. “I’m kidding, it’s only July. There’s five months for me to teach you the secrets of skiing before we hit the snow.”
Was he in love? Not sure. But he was definitely in heavy, heavy like.
Although Sarah seemed to feel the same, there were times he spotted sadness in her eyes. Or fear. He couldn’t tell which. Maybe both. When he asked about it, she said it was nothing. He knew it wasn’t. And it felt like the sadness was directed at him.
But overall, by the time next Wednesday rolled off the calendar, he felt at peace. Nothing strange had happened in the house, and Shannon assured him daily that RimSoft was under control.
Maybe his life had stopped to catch its breath. Even Archie’s letter was positive and intriguing, in a good way.
July 22, 1991
Dear Micah,
I feel compelled, at this point in our journey together, to give notice of a particular room within your home. It is priceless and beyond the confines and restrictions of imagination. It is a room truly too wonderful for me to attempt description.
There is no need to try in any case, as I believe after reading this letter, you will find it soon. Remember the purpose of man: To know God intimately and enjoy Him forever.
In awe of the King,
Archie
P.S. Psalm 16:11: “You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.”
Micah found the room just after seven o’clock that evening. The smell that came from under the door intoxicated him—a potent mixture of roses and apple trees in full bloom. Light streamed out from under the door and made the hallway dim by comparison.
There was no knob, so he reached out to push open the door. But before his hand touched the wood, he stopped. Heat or coolness—he couldn’t tell which—radiated off the door. He touched his finger to the wood and yanked it away. Was the door scorching or refreshingly cool?
He touched it again. Longer this time. It was cool, like an alpine lake on the hottest day of summer. Micah put his entire hand on the door, but he forgot to push as an overwhelming sensation engulfed him.
It felt like a waterfall bursting open in the middle of his soul, then racing to see which end of his body it would reach first. Neither won, as they tied in drenching him in a thundering wave of joy. He fell back from the door breathing hard.
Whatever was behind there could kill him. But he wasn’t sure he cared.
He eased forward, closed his eyes, placed his palm on the door again, and pushed. Once more wonder swept through him as the door moved inward, achingly slow. Then it stopped. He backed up and stared at where his hand had been. Where he’d pushed was a perfect imprint of his hand, an inch deep into the surface of the door. He could make out his fingerprints. As he stared, the imprint of his hand moved back into place.
Unreal.
His eyes dropped to the brilliant light that streamed out from under the door—almost liquid. He stepped backward, bumped into the wall behind him, and slid slowly down it. He watched the light till sleep stole over him. When he woke, the light was gone, and he tried pushing on the door again. Unyielding, ordinary wood. And it still wouldn’t open.
||||||||
On Saturday Sarah and Micah drove south to Heceta Head Lighthouse, took pictures, toured the Sea Lion Caves, and munched on fish ’n’ chips at Mo’s chowder house. Sunday was a bike ride down to Oswald West State Park, dinner and laughter that night at the Fireside with Rick, where for dessert the three of them demolished a chocolate torte in less than two minutes.
That night Micah sat on his deck and watched the stars vanish behind a shroud of clouds rolling in off the ocean. He closed his eyes and smiled. Heavy like was over. He’d fallen in love with more than just Cannon Beach. Sarah had taken up residence deep in his heart.
RimSoft’s stock had risen two points over the past two weeks, and e-mails between Julie and him—while not exactly warm—were polite.
But an e-mail arrived Sunday night that promised all in Seattle was not well.
CHAPTER 24
Micah slammed the snooze button on his alarm Monday morning and groaned. Still nighttime! The e-mail from the night meant getting up at 4:30 so he could get to RimSoft in time for a 10:00 firing.
He showered with his eyes shut but was wide awake by the time he reached his office and growled at Shannon. “I should still be in Cannon Beach. Why do I do this to myself?”
“Good question, boss. They would have taken care of it for you.”
Micah shook his head. “With Federal Trade Commission on the attack? No, I need to do this. Make sure there are no mistakes.”
“He’ll be in your office in ten minutes.”
Micah made a half turn to walk toward his office, then spun back. “It’s the only solution, don’t you think?”
Shannon didn’t answer. Her expression said more clearly than words could that he was about to do something wrong.
“I need to make a quick phone call. Soon as I’m done you can send him in.” He walked into his office.
“Have fun letting him go,” Shannon said.
At 10:15 Micah walked out of his office behind the man he’d just fired. He stared at Shannon as he tried to push down the guilt that churned inside.
“How’d it go?” Shannon asked as soon as the man walked beyond earshot.
“Fine.” But Micah’s conscience screamed for attention. He kept telling himself it was just business, but his heart wouldn’t let him believe it. On his way to his condo that evening after work, he called Sarah.
“How’s Seattle?”
“Empty without you. I’m ready to come back.” Micah lowered his windows and let the soft coolness of a Seattle summer evening fill his car.
“And that will be?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got two more meetings to slog through. Just thought I’d call and say hi
.”
“Hi.”
They laughed softly.
“So anyone fascinating drop by today for a Double Fudge Rocky Road?”
“Actually a couple of movie stars came by.”
“Seriously?”
“No.”
“You are funny,” Micah said.
“I try not to bore you. Like your meetings. So any major moves in the world of software today?”
The firing flashed into his mind. “Well, not really, but since I’ve got you on the phone, let me run a hypothetical situation past you. To test your business acumen.”
“Ready.”
“You might have to fire a guy to solve some problems unrelated to him. Has to be done quick. It’s the only answer. But he does a pretty good job.” Micah pulled onto Denny Way and headed west.
“Pretty good?”
“Yeah, not great, not horrible. Let’s call him a B worker.”
“Is he dishonest? Reliable? Is his effort a B or his work a B?”
“No to your first question, yes to the second. Work is a B, effort an A.”
“So he’s honest, reliable, and hardworking.” Sarah snorted. “You’re kidding about firing him, right?”
“No. Why?” Micah switched his Bluetooth to the other ear.
“Because it’s obvious.”
“No question, you’d keep this guy?”
“In this hypothetical situation, what makes him worthy of getting fired?”
Micah went silent.
“You’re playing with someone’s life.”
“Before you condemn me, get a few more details. We had to do it to get the government off our back. FTC claimed we violated a bunch of monopoly rules, all garbage. This appeases them, problem solved. And believe me, this guy will be taken care of. We’ll give him a huge severance package, plus I’ve already called a friend who has promised he’ll hire him. He’ll make more money than he did here.”
“So you make him feel like a loser, but since he gets another job and makes more, it’s okay?”
Micah took a right and drove up toward the entrance to Seattle Center. “There’s a bigger picture to look at. The reasoning is right.”
“I don’t care if the reason is perfect, Micah. It’s wrong.”
“The reason is perfect, Sarah. We fire this guy, and a significant legal and PR problem goes away. And the guy gets more than taken care of financially.” He pulled into a parking lot near the Children’s Museum, threw his car into park, and yanked the key out of the ignition.
“Ninety-nine percent truth mixed with 1 percent lie is still 100 percent lie. Always.”
“So you won’t let me explain why it won’t upset the guy in the least?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re not dealing in truth. Every choice we make takes us farther down one of two paths. Both paths lead to a kingdom, Micah. You have to decide once and for all which kingdom you want to live in. Because eventually one of the kingdoms has to—and will—disappear. You’re still living with a foot in each world. God gives only two choices: hot and cold. Living in the world of lukewarm gets you spit out.”
Micah bit into his lower lip. “I know your vast experience in the business world gives you the right to judge me. So while we’re at it, do you have any other great moral teachings? Like a holier way to brush my teeth?”
“This isn’t like you,” she replied just above a whisper. “I don’t need your sarcasm right now, and you don’t need to give it. I’m not teaching morality here and you know it. I’m talking about the heart. Yours. What is the Holy Spirit that lives in that heart telling you? Did you ask Him?” She sighed. “I’ll see you when you get back down here.”
“Sarah!”
The line was dead.
Micah ripped off his Bluetooth and hurled it onto the passenger seat of his BMW. What a wi—! He stopped himself, shocked at the anger that wrestled to get out.
He was not an angry person. Wit, humor, maneuvering situations with the power of persuasion were his weapons in controlling his business and his life. But anger? It never advanced anything. He’d buried his anger and his pain a long time ago. Micah rubbed the scar on his left hand. This wasn’t about his father and what he’d done to Micah after his mom died. He wouldn’t let it be.
A moment later he got out of his car and walked toward the fountains in the middle of Seattle Center. As they shot water fifty feet in the air, kids played in the spray raining down, dodging, ducking, laughing. He slumped onto a bench and took Sarah’s advice.
“God, I want the truth. What’s the right move with this firing? There has to be . . .” He didn’t finish. No need to. He sighed, jammed his hand into his pocket, and grabbed his cell phone.
“Yes?” his senior VP answered.
“It’s Micah. When are you doing the exit interview?”
“Ten tomorrow morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“What?”
“We’re not letting him go. Call him. If he wants to stay, tell him we want him back. We’ll figure another way out of this.”
“That is a surprising decision. You do realize you’re running the risk of losing a significant portion of what we’ve gained over the past two years?”
Micah tapped the bench he sat on with his car keys. “Get the team together tomorrow morning at 9:00 so we can put together a strategy.”
He hung up and stared at the wooden bench, faded almost white from years of being doused in Seattle’s winter rains, then baked with July and August sunshine. He watched two seagulls scream at each other as they fought over an abandoned bag of popcorn and a tourist—probably from the Midwest—take pictures of them.
As he alternated between watching the people and the almost cloudless sky, peace settled over him. A few minutes later a couple rode by with crimson helmets that matched their bikes. Micah pushed a button on his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Me again.”
“Hey,” Sarah said.
“I think we’re due for some mountain biking.”
“Mad still?”
“I’m sorry.” Micah clamped his lips together for a moment. “Thanks for having the guts to speak truth.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So you want to ride?”
“How ’bout Friday?” Sarah said.
“Perfect.” He lowered his voice. “I miss you. Love you.”
“Me, too.”
He walked back to his car, planning to go straight back to his condo. But by the time he started the engine, he decided to find a distraction. No doubt he’d made the right decision about his employee; however, it didn’t make the frustration—and necessary strategizing that went along with the problem—any easier to deal with. Maybe a movie—no, he didn’t need to ingest another helping of his usual high-octane violence or blue comedy flicks. You are what you eat. Maybe he’d just find a restaurant with a game on.
Like he used to do with . . . Julie.
That morning Shannon had said she was doing fine. He hoped it was true. He should at least tell her what’s going on with the firing, or nonfiring. Besides, it would be good to touch base, see if she’d talk to him through more than just e-mail.
He raced down Mercer, then pulled onto I-5 and headed north. It had been more than two weeks since he’d met Julie at the Halfway Café. Time to break the face-to-face ice.
Six miles up the concrete river, he took the 85th Street exit and headed west toward Green Lake. A world he’d pushed out of his mind rushed back: Julie; her neighborhood; her house; the mountain of hours they’d spent planning RimSoft; the good, the bad, and the wonderful. Micah looked at his watch: 6:50. Probably should have called first, but he was already here.
He rang the doorbell and waited. The door swung open and reve
aled Julie’s familiar face—the striking looks, intelligent eyes, the softness of her blonde hair. Romance might be gone, but he didn’t want to lose the relationship. They’d been through too much together, accomplished too much, held too much of each other’s history in their heads and hearts to let it all slip away. If she was willing, he wanted friendship.
“May I help you?”
“Jules, listen, sorry to pop in without calling first, but it’s been a couple of weeks. I was close by and thought we should touch base.”
“Who—?”
“I meant it about being friends. And we own a company together. We should talk every now and then.”
She frowned and finished the sentence she’d started five seconds earlier. “Who are you?”
“All right, point taken.” Micah smiled. “I know I’ve been completely incommunicado the last three weeks other than e-mail, so I deserve that. But I want to start fresh and—”
“Listen, pal, if one of my friends set you up to do this, the humor part isn’t coming through.” She started to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s it. If you don’t vanish off my porch instantly, I’m dialing 911.”
Micah removed his foot and his stomach jumped, as if on a roller coaster at full throttle. She wasn’t kidding. Julie pushed the door hard, but he threw his hands out and stopped it before it slammed shut. “Why are you doing this?”
“Jake! I need you here.” She turned her head. “Now!”
Micah didn’t know whether to shout or turn and run. He probably couldn’t have done either, even if he’d wanted to. The shock of what was unfolding froze him in place. Three seconds later Jake and his Popeye-sized forearms stood at the door. He didn’t look like a light joke would loosen him up.
Jim Rubart Trilogy Page 15
