Rooms - James L. Rubart [51]
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 He was the one who had withdrawn to Cannon Beach and snuffed out the candle of their romance.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,