Rooms - James L. Rubart [107]
Micah hung up and walked toward the awards that covered his walls. He touched the frame of the Innovative Software of the Year award. Part of him loved the software business, the financial freedom, the challenges, and impact his products had on the world. But more than all of it, he loved Sarah. And more than Sarah, he loved the Lord. All of the glory of his Seattle world was nothing compared to the healing and freedom he’d found in Cannon Beach.
It made sense. To gain Seattle back, he had to lose it first. His voice was right.
Now he had it all.
Micah booted up his computer and found four hundred-plus e-mail messages sitting like little penguins all in a row, insisting on a moment of his time. He smiled. It was nice being in demand again.
Before he dove in, he called his CFO to confirm the return of one final piece of his life. His CFO said he owned 725,345 shares in RimSoft. He punched up the share price and did the math. He felt the voice deep inside smile. Just over $60 million dollars. All was right with the world again. He wanted to tell Sarah immediately. Well, if he couldn’t share it with her, he could try Rick.
“Rick’s Gas and Garage.”
“Hey, Devin, it’s Micah.”
“Micah?”
“Micah Taylor.”
“Um.”
“From Seattle?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. How are ya?”
“How many other Micahs do you know?”
Devin didn’t answer so Micah asked for Rick.
“Out till Friday. Had some family business back east I think, not exactly sure where. Want me to give him a message?”
“Yeah, tell him to buy a cell phone.”
Micah hung up the phone and pored back and forth between e-mail and snail mail. Nothing unusual till two-thirds of the way down the stack. A letter from Chris Hale.
Hello, Micah.
I hope you are well as you read this.
Enclosed please find another letter from Archie. I must apologize. This letter was intended to be in the pile I left in the house, but I obviously misplaced it somehow and didn’t notice it missing from the original stack.
Please forgive my oversight. I’ve made copies of the letter and sent one to your Cannon Beach address and one to your work address.
I would have sent a third to your Seattle residence, but I don’t have that address.
Let’s connect again soon.
Chris
Micah opened Archie’s letter and sat down. It took all of three seconds to read.
June 23, 1992
Dear Micah,
Matthew 16:25–26.
With my great affection,
Archie
Micah looked at his bookshelves although he didn’t need to. If he was back in his old office, there was no Bible on them. He Googled the verses, and two seconds later they were on his screen:
For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? (Matthew 16:25–26)
Micah fell back in his chair. Chris loses the letter, finds it, then sends it. And he ends up reading it on this specific day. Coincidence? No way.
But so what? Yes, he’d gained some of the world—his world—back. It didn’t mean he’d forfeited his soul. He was closer to the Lord than he’d ever been. Ever. Yes, he had some treasure here on Earth again. Big deal. It’s not where his heart was. At least not the majority of his heart. So why read something into the timing of this letter when there was nothing to read into it? But all of Micah’s mental machinations didn’t quench a gnawing feeling in his stomach that something was askew.
An impression formed in his mind. It was the voice.
Relax. As good as it’s been, the last two days have been pretty stressful. Don’t let your imagination take you somewhere we shouldn’t go.
That night Micah celebrated his return to the top with a longtime basketball buddy. They dined at Palisades in Seattle on porterhouse steaks accompanied by crab legs, Caesar salads, and a double portion of tiramisu. They watched the million-dollar yachts bob in Puget Sound and talked sports,