Rooms

by Rubart, James L.

  “Well, what if it was true?”

  “What part?”

  “That you were in love in a parallel life. That God brought you together.”

  “This is the moment where I ask if you’re serious, and you nod your head and tell me absolutely, right?”

  Rick nodded and smiled. “So here’s the fatherly advice. Give him another chance. Entertain the possibility, ever so slight, that he told you the truth. That there was another life where you fell in love, and the enemy is trying to steal it.”

  Sarah hugged herself and blew out another long breath. “So I’m just supposed to believe some guy who seemed okay, more than okay at first, really is okay? I simply believe he’s not psychotic and skip off into the sunset with him?” She bent down and picked up a lone agate.

  “Will you give him another chance?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Sarah?”

  She gave what she imagined was an imperceptible nod.

  When Rick spoke again, his tone changed. “I need to tell you some things now that will surprise you. And might even change how you look at Micah.”

  As they walked next to the rumble of the waves, she stared at Rick, eyes wide. When he finished, tears spilled down her face, and she buried herself in his chest.

  ||||||||

  Thursday afternoon the phone rang as Micah stuck two pieces of wheat bread into his toaster. He decided not to answer it. Today needed to be a day of reflection. Alone. But a glance at caller ID told him it was Rick. Gotta take that one.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Rick; we need to talk. In person.”

  “About?”

  “Soon.”

  “No hints?”

  “Best if there’s no prelims. Can you do it now?”

  “Sure. Where?” Micah’s hand went to his stomach and squeezed. Something was wrong.

  “How ’bout Oswald West State Park? It’s a gorgeous day, and we’ll probably be able to find some privacy there. This is a talk to have without an audience or interruption.”

  “Sounds good.” But it didn’t sound good. It sounded like an omen. Why no audience? He stared at the phone and thought about the location. Oh, wow. Rick had given him a clue anyway.

  He pulled onto the highway and nursed the speedometer up to sixty. As 101 South moved smoothly underneath him, the answer popped into his mind so abruptly he almost expected to hear a ding. He knew exactly what Rick would tell him. This would not be fun.

  Micah hiked down to the cove trying to stretch time. With everything in him, he didn’t want this conversation. When he reached the sand, Rick was already there, sitting on a log about a hundred yards to the north.

  For a few moments he watched his friend toss rocks into the surf. Micah’s shoes felt heavy as he trudged toward the log. He sat without speaking and continued to watch Rick toss wave-polished stones into the ocean.

  “I’ve got to go now, Micah.”

  The words hung in the air, and the silence stretched out. His friend’s voice had never sounded so serious and full of sorrow. Micah bent down and picked up two dry sticks. As he broke them into smaller and smaller pieces, he looked up. “What do you mean, go?”

  But he knew what Rick meant. Somehow asking the question was a way to hold off the pain, if only for an instant longer.

  “You know what I mean. I’m sorry.” Tears wound their way down both sides of Rick’s cheeks. It reflected Micah’s own.

  “Now is the moment when you tell me who you are.”

  “Yeah.” Rick threw another rock. “But I don’t really need to, do I?”

  Micah shook his head.

  The day at Cape Lookout when Rick had shown a sliver of his glory—the rock disintegrating under his foot, how he seemed to grow larger, light seeming to come off his body—all rushed back at him along with a dozen other clues from the past five and a half months. It all made sense now. Micah picked up a stick lying next to the log they sat on and drew lines in the sand.

  “You were the man standing here, at the edge of the beach that day I almost drowned kayaking.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were there during my junior year of high school when I’d had enough of life and tried to drive off the edge of that cliff. You’re what stopped me.”

  Rick nodded.

  Micah blew out a long breath. “You’re in that picture with Archie at Chris Hale’s house, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  He knew the answer to the next question but wanted to ask it anyway. To make the moment complete by hearing the answer from Rick’s lips. He swirled his stick through the sand, watching the tiny grains part and then gather together again as the wood passed between them. “You’ve been with me since the day I was born, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” Rick waited a moment, then added, “I won’t stop being with you. It just won’t be in the same form.”

  The reality of Rick’s words swirled through his mind, and Micah steadied himself against the log.

  Rick, an angel. His angel. Archie’s angel while he was alive. The wonder of it circled Micah, lifted him, then slammed him down with the reality of Rick’s departure.

  The last five and a half months spun through his mind like a DVD playing at thirty-two times normal speed. Conversations, runs on the beach, movies together. Coffee taking the edge off early foggy mornings, countless meals at Morris’s Fireside. Rick his confidant, mentor, and best friend.

  Micah stayed silent, desperately hoping that if he didn’t speak, Rick would have to stay. Even if Micah had wanted to say something, what words would he use? He raised his head and stood. Rick was already standing and drew Micah up to his chest and squeezed hard.

  “Don’t go.”

  “I have to. It is time. But I’ll still be here.” He eased Micah away, his hands now on Micah’s shoulders, Rick’s eyes locked on his. “Who knows, maybe our destiny is to see each other face-to-face again before you step into eternity.”

  “How can I live this life without you?”

  Rick laughed his familiar, dancing laugh. “Walk with God. Listen to the Holy Spirit. You know His voice. You’ll come to know it better as you practice listening. And listen to your heart. It knows the truth, for as you know, that is where the temple is and where the King dwells.”

  “Does Sarah know?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you tell her? What did she say?”

  “That’s for her to tell you, not me.”

  “Does that mean she’s going to—?”

  “Micah.”

  “You gotta—”

  “Micah,” Rick said again, slightly louder. “God is for you and He is sovereign. Trust Him.”

  Micah watched in wonder as a faint, paper-thin light started to outline Rick’s body—the purest light Micah had ever seen.

  As the light thickened, Rick turned his palms up and stretched his fingers as far as they could go. “I love you with the love of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” A grin split his face ear to ear in sharp contrast to the tears that streamed down his face.

  Micah stepped back and the transformation quickened. Rick’s features changed from the ones Micah knew so well into the most handsome face he’d ever seen. The light around Rick expanded farther, and his body grew with the light till he stood at least ten feet tall and two men wide.

  Micah couldn’t keep his eyes off Rick’s face. Love streaked out of it; tears and joy mixed together in a radiant display of glory. A few seconds more and the brilliance coming off Rick’s face became blinding, and Micah shut his eyes.

  When he opened them, the beach was empty.

  He slumped back onto the log and sobbed. Tears of sorrow for Rick’s going and of gratitude for the gift of his friendship. Finally tears of peace. Great pools of peace.

  ||||||||

  The next morning Micah walked onto his deck as dawn fired golden light over the eastern mountains. The fog had retreated fifty yards off the beach and formed a wall of whi
te. The sun lit it up, making it look like a giant movie screen made of cotton. The perfect setting. A blank screen to open Archie’s final letter in front of.

  Strange to think the journey had ended and Micah wouldn’t be listening anymore to this remarkable man from his past who had become such a large part of his future. But in many ways the journey was still starting, and if he knew Archie, this last letter would be a doozie.

  He opened the envelope, and a key dropped out: small, brass, and nondescript. He placed it gently on his deck’s pine picnic table and pulled the sharply creased letter free of the envelope.

  Micah smiled. What a trip it had been. He owed Archie his life. He thanked God for the man yet again, slipped the edge of his thumb underneath a corner of the letter, and eased it open. He smoothed the creases three times before letting himself read the familiar penmanship that would go to his heart one last time.

  December 23, 1992

  Dear Micah,

  Regretfully this is my last letter to you. Do you harbor that lament as much as I do? During the last few years, it has certainly been a joy putting my pen to paper with you in mind. If all has gone as I have hoped and prayed it would, then a number of extraordinary things have happened, not the least of which is you discovering the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in ways you never have before.

  Has your heart surfaced? Are you listening? I know you are. Sobering, is it not? What most of us bury is the treasure we long for all our lives.

  Was it worth it? You had the world and had almost given up your soul to get it. Now you have sold the world to gain back your soul, heart, and spirit. Was it a fair trade?

  A grin burst onto Micah’s face. Fair? No. The trade was heavily leveraged in his direction. He had gained his life, the Kingdom, and a restored heart. All the favor spun his way.

  Freedom, Micah, the Lord is always about freedom. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. If what you do brings freedom and life, it is most likely Christianity. If it doesn’t, it is probably religion, and there is already too much of that in the world.

  However, you didn’t open this letter to hear another one of my sermons. You want to discover where and how your adventure concludes. I must disappoint you. I don’t know, only He does.

  By now Rick has told you who he is, and I imagine he has left. I’m sorry. Everything has its ending.

  One more surprise before I say farewell. Last week I drove down to Cannon Beach and paid for a safety deposit box at the Bank of Astoria. The key in the envelope will open it. Inside the box is another key, the one to your true heart’s desire.

  Finally, please do not think your adventures into the supernatural are over. Hardly. No, this was just the introduction. I will see you on the other side.

  Forever your great-uncle,

  Archie

  P.S. Some choices are irreversible and some cause irreversible change. Others are not and do not. Regarding Sarah, I have no answers. But we both know His will, and your destiny will not fail to be accomplished.

  How did Archie know about Sarah? Right, what didn’t Rick tell Archie? Micah sat on his deck and turned the key in his hand over and over again wondering where Sarah was right now. And what time the Bank of Astoria opened. A quick visit to the Web told him 10:00.

  He would be standing outside their door tomorrow at 9:59 a.m.

  CHAPTER 45

  He’d have answers in one minute and thirty-two seconds. Thirty-one. Thirty. At precisely 10:00 Micah pushed open the bank’s front door. It squealed like a pig at feeding time.

  The Bank of Astoria was small but comfortable. There was a sitting area with cloth chairs to his right, a stand with a large stainless steel coffeepot and packets of Coffee-mate creamer to his left. Caffeine? No way. It would push him off the chart. The adrenaline in his veins had already given him the shakes. The key to his heart’s desire? Bring it on, Archie.

  “Looks like you could use some WD-40 on that door,” he said with a smile to an elderly lady behind the counter.

  “May I help you?” She glared at him over the top of her tortoiseshell glasses.

  “I’m here to look at a safety deposit box, thanks.” He pinched his lips together to stifle a laugh. “Here’s my key. The number is on it.”

  “We know how these things work, sonny.”

  He stayed silent as the Ice Queen shuffled over to a file cabinet and pulled the file on the box in question. When she came back, she had a new personality.

  “Well, well, well. You must be Micah Taylor. Yes, yes, yes.” She turned to two bankers who sat at their desks ticking away on their computer keyboards. “It’s him. Micah Taylor is here. Right here! I told you he would show up, and now you all have to watch me fill my piggy bank.”

  “You know me?”

  The teller pranced toward the back of the bank with a dance step she probably did a good deal better thirty years earlier, too locked in to her jitterbug to answer his question.

  A male employee that looked like Santa Claus with a buzz cut wandered over. “You’ll have to excuse Madge’s unorthodox bank behavior there.” He stretched his paisley suspenders, one thumb on each side, and continued. “You see, that safety deposit box has never been opened, and there is one, and only one, name authorized to use it. Of course that’s you.

  “The box was first rented quite a few moons ago. Yes sirree Jim-Bob, it has gained quite a reputation over the years. We were given explicit instructions to do nothing with the box until you came and opened it, and we’ve all had a little bet going as to when—and frankly if—you’d ever show up. Madge had only ten more days for you to show before her guess was up, and since the cash prize to the winner has grown to a nice little chunk of change—good conservative bank investing over the course of seventeen years—you sure made her day just now.”

  “You’ve had this thing for seventeen years?” Of course they had. Archie first rented the box back in 1992.

  “Bank’s been bought out three times since the box was first registered, but it was prepaid for twenty-five years so it’s stayed put.”

  Madge waltzed up to Micah with her eyebrows above the rims of her glasses, the smile still on her face, gold showing where she hadn’t brushed well enough when she was younger. “I have the box in the back in the private booths. Would you follow me, please?”

  Micah was led into a tiny room with two booths. Madge gestured to the one on the left, and he stepped inside and pulled the curtain closed. The box sat in the center of the small desk.

  He sat down and held his breath. This was it. Last contact with Archie. The final puzzle piece.

  Micah inserted the key Madge had given him into the box and turned it, as if it were a Q-tip in a baby’s ear. It wouldn’t rotate. With slightly more effort the clasp opened with a light click. Part of him wanted to throw the lid back with abandon; another part didn’t want to open it at all. Rick was gone. So was Sarah and Seattle. Now Archie’s voice from the past was about to blink out.

  He’d given up his world and gained his soul. There was no turning back. But where did it leave him? Cannon Beach without Rick and Sarah was poorly flavored. And there was the nagging question of income. He had little money left, and although the mortgage papers he’d gotten from Chris assured him the house and land were paid for, when tax time rolled around, he would need a hefty sum to cover a nine-thousand-square-foot home on the ocean.

  A light tapping on the wall just outside his curtain startled Micah. He jerked upright and cracked his knee on the cubicle desk. “Yes?” He winced.

  “Just making sure everything is going a-okay in there, Mr. Taylor.”

  It was Granny Good-Grin.

  “Fine. Thanks.”

  He rubbed his knee as his eyes settled back on the box.

  Might as well.

  He opened it. An old manila envelope sat at the bottom. On top of it was a note from Archie. Micah lifted the card as if it were a butterfly’s wing.

  Micah,

  I thought you might like to
have a reprint.

  Archie

  A fine layer of dust covered the envelope. Micah unwound the string sealing it, his palms sweaty. He turned it upside down. A photo and a key taped to a note card slid out. Micah stared at a copy of the picture he’d seen at Chris’s house. Chris, Archie, and Rick stood on a fishing boat, their arms around each other, grins splashed on their faces. This he would treasure.

  Four lines were written on the note card:

  A key to open heart’s desires,

  Yours and those beyond,

  Cords are cut and chains are broken,

  When we live our calling strong.

  Micah pulled the key off the card and examined it. “A key to open his heart’s desire.” Archie’s last letter had said the same thing. Micah hadn’t expected a literal key. One side had deep scratches. He looked closer. They weren’t scratches. They were words or numbers. Too small to make out but definitely writing.

  He gathered up the treasures, said good-bye to Madge, and dashed down Main Street to find a magnifying glass. After buying one at Trinkets & Treasures, he sprinted to his car, got in, pulled out the key, and shoved it under the glass. The writing leaped out at him.

  An address was engraved into the key in a soft, fluid script. He was dumbfounded.

  The address was his own.

  Then he felt it. A physical sensation this time. His world had shifted once again, even though from where he sat parked everything looked the same. The last vestiges of his Seattle existence had fallen away. He knew it. Only Cannon Beach and the unexplained parallel life remained.