Rooms - James L. Rubart [126]
“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. They 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