Rooms - James L. Rubart [109]
Micah tried to find words. Only one came. “Julie?”
She laughed, cocked her head, and pointed a crimson fingernail at him. “Micah.”
“You’re not my partner.”
“No, not yet. You offering? All right, I accept.”
His mind spun on a merry-go-round far over a safe speed. “Why . . . uh, wha . . . Why are you . . . ?” He stopped and stumbled into the chair next to Julie’s desk. No question would make sense so it was impossible to finish the sentence.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, good. I just . . .” Just what? Just realized his world was still shifting wildly and he wasn’t in control of any of it? He gripped the arms of the chair and tried to stop the spinning sensation.
No, it wasn’t surprising Julie would be back in his life if the other things were back, but as his assistant? Why? He forced the thoughts pounding through his brain to stop, and he looked up at her. “Listen, it’s great to see you, great to be back, so let’s catch up as soon as I can get unburied from three weeks of work.”
“You’re thinking dinner tonight?”
“Yes. Love it. Perfect.” Micah smiled, hoping it looked real, stood, and turned toward his office door.
He staggered into his office and slammed the door. Not out of anger. Out of fear. He flung his coat and briefcase onto the chair next to his desk. The coat slid down the side of the chair and crumpled to the floor. Micah didn’t bother to pick it up. He was staring at the picture of Sarah he’d put up the day before.
She wasn’t in it.
CHAPTER 39
Micah weaved through Seattle’s late-morning traffic like Speed Racer as he sped toward the University of Washington’s arboretum. It had been his place of solace since high school. His spot to be alone. To think.
He had to calm down. Get a handle on the insanity that pulsed through his entire body. He felt his neck with his forefinger. Heart rate? Probably 140. Clothes? Soaked with sweat.
He looked down at the picture clutched in his hand. Haystack Rock in the background in the late afternoon sun gave everything a golden hue. But where Sarah had sat was now only sand. He’d called Rick four times over the past hour, as if logging multiple calls would bring his friend back from his trip faster. During the fourth call, Devin almost hung up on him.
Micah stood on a secluded bulkhead overlooking Lake Washington, trying to pray, but the prayers seemed to vanish into the charcoal skies. As he started back to his car, his cell phone rang. He fumbled in his pocket for it, fingers numb. Caller ID said Unknown.
Please be her!
“Hello?”
“Micah? It’s Sarah Sabin.”
“Finally.” A monsoon of relief landed on him. “I have missed you unbelievably.”
“Are you the person who’s been leaving messages on my cell phone?”
“Am I the person?” He laughed. “Yeah, what other Micahs do you know?”
As the words came out of his mouth, two questions struck like ice water. Why did she give her last name? And why ask if he’d left the messages? She knew his voice as well as anyone’s.
“You’re the only Micah I know, but I have to say your messages were a little weird.”
“Weird?”
“I enjoyed bumping into you up at Ecola and enjoyed our talk. And I was looking forward to dinner at your place next week, spend a little time together, get to know each other. But your messages made me think that’s not such a good idea.”
Micah’s legs went weak, and he crumpled onto the rough wooden planks beneath him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
“Are you there?”
“I’m in Seattle,” he sputtered. “And it’s all back. I’ve got it all back.”
“Okaaay.” Sarah drew out the word. “Got all what back?”
He tried to think of an answer to stop this nightmare. A sense of low, smug laughter coursed through him. The phone slipped from his grasp and dropped over the bulkhead wall, crashing onto the smooth rocks twenty