Rooms: A Novel (12 page)

“I went through the whole house the first time I came. They were not there. They are now. I wouldn’t have missed them.”

“Whew. You’ve got my attention.”

“And get this. The music room isn’t the only new room. Now there’s a painting studio in the house. It wasn’t there the first walk-through, either. On top of that, every time I come back from Seattle, there’s more done to this painting.”

“You’re saying—”

“Someone has to come and work on the thing when I’m gone, or the thing paints itself. I’m not that easily intimidated, but that is more than strange. I don’t care if you say God is in it, I lock my bedroom door at night.” Micah paused. “As if it would do me any good.”

Rick looked more intrigued than surprised. “So why don’t you just throw away the key and have the thing boarded up? Or sell it?”

Micah’s eyes snapped up from his coffee. “No way.” He surprised himself with how forceful he answered.

“Why not?”

He stared at Rick. He didn’t know why. Why
was
he subjecting himself to a modern version of
The Twilight Zone?
He didn’t have to stay here. He could walk away right now and never come back. Or sell it like he’d been saying all along and buy another home somewhere farther down the coast wherever he wanted. Or give it to Rick.

Also, the longer he flirted with the spiritual hinterlands in Cannon Beach, the more it seemed to seep into his life in Seattle. Not in a good way. He could make it all stop—the strange lapses in Seattle; dealing with the past; and the intense scrutiny of his spiritual life from God, or Archie, or whatever force was behind the whole thing.

But as strange as the past three months had been, it stirred something inside he wasn’t ready to give up.

“Because I’m on the edge.” Micah leaned in on his elbows pushing his silverware to the side. “More alive than I’ve felt in years.”

Rick’s right ear raised, and he gave the slightest of nods.

“It’s like being in the deepest parts of my own soul in those rooms,” Micah continued. “Buried in ripping pain or drenched in joy and freedom. The pain is hell, but the joy is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Stuff that happens only in dreams. I’m getting close to God again, and it seems so real. . . . But I don’t know if it is real or if I’m going insane. Seriously, I think I might be slipping off the—”

“Insane? No. And you don’t need me to tell you it’s real. You know. Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No.”

“Not even Julie?”

“I haven’t seen her for more than seven weeks.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I told her we’re on hold, and she broke it off for good.”

“Hmm.” Rick stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked straight into Micah’s eyes. He didn’t need to tell Micah what he was thinking. Micah knew.

“You’re right. I need to talk to her. Do the closure thing. Soon.”

CHAPTER 19

Micah met Julie early Saturday evening in Chehalis—midpoint between Seattle and Cannon Beach. Neutral ground. This wouldn’t be easy.

He got out of his BMW and scanned the windows of the Halfway Café. She was already sitting at a table toward the back, next to the window.

The Halfway Café was old but clean—except for one table full of plates with half-eaten cheeseburgers still on them. A few coffee stains had made permanent residence on the dull maroon carpet, but the windows looked recently washed, and Micah guessed at one time it was a hot spot for casual dinners.

Julie had to hate the place.

“Are You Lonesome Tonight” played on an ancient-looking jukebox. The 78s were lined up like kids on the bench in Little League waiting to get into the big game. Still just twenty-five cents to spin a dream.

What record would be appropriate for him to play as he stared at Julie? Elvis was in fine form but didn’t stir any emotion in Micah, happy or sad. Maybe that was the key. Just keep emotion out of it.

As he walked over, Julie looked up right on cue. The hazel eyes were just as beautiful; the long blonde hair just as golden.

“Hi.” Micah slid into the booth.

“Hey. Nice place,” she said with a smirk. “Couldn’t find anything less formal?”

“Yeah, they almost made me put on a tie when I came in.”

A waitress with a pile of big hair straight out of 1986 sauntered up to the table. “Can I getcha something hot to drink?” She talked like she had gum in her mouth.

“Diet Coke, please,” Micah said.

“Classic Coke okay, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” Micah smiled.

Julie ordered the same.

“I’ll getcha your drinks and be right back atcha.” The waitress winked at Micah.

“Haven’t lost your touch, have you, Micah?” Julie opened her menu and studied it.

“What touch?” He tried not to laugh.

Julie dabbed her napkin in her water and wiped off her side of the table. “You’ve never been one to just hang out somewhere since I’ve known you.”

“True.”

“Let alone hang out in a place as laid back as the beach. It’s been more than three months with no end in sight. What’s going on? You act like you want this work-from-the-ocean charade to go on forever.”

“It’s growing on me.”

“What’s her name?” Julie spun her knife on the table and watched it twirl.

“There’s no name.”

“What is her name?”

“It’s not a her.” He looked out the window at a gray ’66 Mustang and folded his arms. Maybe there was a her. But he wasn’t ready to think of Sarah in that vein, and it wasn’t why he was drawn to Cannon Beach. Maybe a partial reason but certainly not the main one.

The waitress returned with their drinks and took their order. Micah was grateful for a break in the conversation. But it was a short respite from Julie’s cross-examination. Up till then, she’d asked questions with a smoldering burn. Now flames leaped from her eyes as she leaned in and spoke in a jagged whisper.

“If it’s not a her, then what is it? Our lives were on track. We’ve pegged off every goal we set for the business, and we finally took our relationship to the next level!” Julie fell back in her chair. “Now you’re hanging out at the beach and telling me our relationship is ‘on hold.’ You wanted to figure things out. You said, ‘Six, maybe seven weeks tops, Jules!’”

She pushed her silverware to the side and leaned back in. “Explain to me what is so captivating about a home on the beach that convinces you to spend 90 percent of your life there?”

“You haven’t been to the place.”

“I don’t want to go to the place.” She took a sip of her Coke, then smacked it back down on the table.

Micah grabbed a handful of Sweet’N Low packets and built a little wall. A moment later their food came. Both picked at their meals.

Micah felt Julie’s eyes on him, studying him as if they were in a deep negotiation.

“You’ve changed.”

She was poking him, trying to provoke him and hear him defend himself with cries of “Not true.” But it
was
true. “Yeah, I have.”

It stopped her.

“Come see the house, Jules.”

“Come back to your life. Our life.”

“It’s not over yet.”

“What’s not over? The house is helping you ‘rediscover yourself’? Figure out ‘who you are’? Are you kidding? I played along when you first said it, but now that three months have skated by, it’s a wrinkled, old excuse.” Julie waved her hands in the air. “Find yourself. Find yourself!”

“I’m not the same person.”

“Whatever you think you’re becoming isn’t the real you. The real Micah is conquering the world, on his way to becoming one of the youngest
billion
aires in the world. Trips to the Alps. To Saint-Tropez. Parties in Hollywood every other weekend. Hardware companies begging to ally themselves with RimSoft.”

Something stirred in Micah. Something saying with deep conviction Julie was right.

“The real Micah is confident, knows where he’s going, and is in love with me. You can’t keep living in both worlds. You’re going to have to choose one way or the other. Not next week. Not tomorrow. Now.”

The two worlds flashed into his mind at the same time. The world of the house, Rick, and Sarah, and the world of Seattle, RimSoft, and Julie. For an instant both worlds lingered. Then something snapped.

Business jaunts off to Italy, to Australia, and to New Zealand, being invited onto movie sets whenever he wanted, suites in Las Vegas thrown at him, multimillion-dollar software deals, the magazine covers and TV profiles—he missed it. How could he stay in Cannon Beach? Too small. Too confining. What had he been thinking? For a weekend. Yes. For a life? Impossible.

He was at a decision point. A crossroads.

He looked up at Julie. Gorgeous. Sharp. A remarkable business partner. She’d been on edge lately, but that was his fault. He was the one who had withdrawn to Cannon Beach and snuffed out the candle of their romance. Not her.

It was time to go back to Seattle. Cannon Beach could still happen. God was doing things. But it could be done at a jog instead of a sprint. These past three months he’d played at the edges of his company—not truly involved.

And he missed the world’s thunderous applause. He missed the kick of meeting his software heroes he’d grown up reading about, getting box seats comped at any sporting event he wanted to attend, the penthouse suite in every hotel in Europe when he traveled overseas. The rush of the kill filled his imagination. He hadn’t given it up, but it had certainly been on hold. An urge deep down demanded he dive back in.

“You can’t tread water in this business,” Julie continued. “It moves like lightning. You know it. Stay where you are, competitors catch up and you’re headed backward.”

“I’m that important?” He smiled.

Julie didn’t smile back. “Micah, this is serious. In another two months the stockholders won’t understand this extended working from the beach. The board already questions your new work ethic. Our employees are spreading rumors about your mental health, and your partner and soul mate wonders if there’s any future in the relationship.”

It wasn’t a threat. She had every reason to make the statement. Plus, she was right. He had to choose.

“You’re right.” Micah spun his knife counterclockwise. “It’s decision time.” He rubbed the back of this neck. “Time to get back to life in Seattle.”

“Yes!” Julie slapped her hand on the table. “When?”

“A few more days. By next weekend at the latest.”

He would throw off this bizarre life he’d been living. And he wouldn’t wait till next weekend. His spiritual fantasyland had gone far enough. He’d stride out of the café, leave his car in the parking lot, jump in Julie’s, and be back in Seattle tonight. The kingdom there pulled at him. And he
wanted
to be pulled back into that intoxicating world. It was a drug and he wanted—
needed
—a fix.

Micah grabbed Julie’s hands, pulled them up to his face, kissed them, and told her he’d go back with her that night.

But the moment he promised his return, his body went cold. It was a lie. Seattle wouldn’t last. A verse Sarah had quoted the week before surfaced in his mind like a dolphin breaking free from the water.

“If any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work. If any man’s work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward. If any man’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire.”

Was RimSoft gold and silver or wood, hay, and straw? If he was taken through the fire right now, what would remain? If the here and now did echo in eternity . . . what echoes had he created?

The rest of their meal was filled with talk about new products and what part of Europe they’d explore during their next vacation. Micah played along, a sick sensation growing in his stomach. By the time he paid the bill and they stepped outside the restaurant, he felt ready to vomit.

“I’ll set up dinner for us at Toro’s to celebrate your coming home.” Julie bounced on her right leg. “Saturday night work for you?”

“Perfect,” Micah replied with as much emotion as he could fake convincingly.

They walked to their cars. The crunch of the crushed red rock under their feet screamed at him to tell Julie the truth. That he wouldn’t be back Saturday night. Or the next. Or the next.

Micah stopped and watched Julie take four more steps before she turned.

“What is it?”

He stared at her, looked away, then looked back. A part of him would always be with her. “I’m probably not coming back to us for a long time, if ever.”

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “I know.” Then the tears came. He watched her cry for what seemed like hours. When she looked at him again, her eyes were sad. Tender.

Suddenly Julie kicked the gravel at her feet. “I saw it coming. Religion rears up and roars.” She paced in front of her car. After the third pass she stopped. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve bought into the whole Jesus-thing again, lock, stock, and Bible.”

Micah walked over to her car and leaned against it. “What about you?”

“Don’t even try. I have nothing against God. I’m sure he’s great for kids and little old ladies who like to make quilts but not for people like us.” She kicked the gravel again. “Why are you doing this to us? Come back to Seattle!”

“He’s real.”

“I don’t care!”

Micah pleaded with his eyes, but she was shutting down. He had no clue what to say. “Julie, if you would just—”

“No. Let it go.” She stood with arms folded, shoulders tensed, and foot digging a hole in the tiny stones at her feet. A sigh. Her shoulders sagged and her arms untangled. She eased over to him.

“Don’t try. It’s okay.” She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Remember me.” She walked to her car without looking back.

He’d lost another part of Seattle, this time by his own choice.

||||||||

A thick fog hugged the coast as Micah arrived back in Cannon Beach, the fog even thicker surrounding his house. Midnight. Too late, too late to talk to anyone but himself.

“How do you think it went?” the voice asked.

“Running the company together is going to be awkward.”

“Not really. It’s been years since you really ran it together. You do your thing; she does hers. And if you want hard, cold reality, Julie could disappear at this point. While it would create a momentary buzz on the radar screen, RimSoft would survive just fine.”

“True. Probably could survive without me too, based on the question she raised.”

“Which is?”

“That I need to choose that world or this one. Think she’s right?”

“No. I think we can do, should do, both,” the voice said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. We should start brainstorming how we can use our software talents to advance the Kingdom of God.”

“Love it. Let’s start storming our brains.”

“First, I want to talk about the music room and what we created there.”

“Not bad was it?” Micah smiled.

“Incredible.”

“And what about the thoughts that popped into my head? My Rip van Winkle heart is waking up.”

“I think the thoughts were from God, but they definitely didn’t come from your heart,” the voice said. “We must be so careful when something powerful comes from God that we don’t listen to the voice of the enemy alongside it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You lost me. What part of that experience was from the enemy?”

“A small part, Micah. But much truth mixed with a small lie makes the lie so much easier to swallow.”

“What part?” Micah folded his arms and leaned against the back wall of the room.

“Jeremiah tells us the heart is deceitful beyond all wickedness.”

“Okay.”

“And God forgives. But to entertain the idea that our heart is good and there are more good things to come out of it? No. Sorry. The Word is clear on that. Why does the psalmist sing ‘Create in me a clean heart’ unless it’s unclean? Don’t misunderstand; the Bible says our sins are washed white as snow. But to describe our hearts as good and holy? No. That’s where the subtle lie slipped in.”