Rooms - James L. Rubart [56]
“For the same reason.” He took half-a-dozen long, loping strides to join her.
The slightest hint of wind swirled, as if it couldn’t decide which direction to blow. Sarah turned her face to where in seconds the sun would crest the horizon and cast gold on the beach. She glanced at Rick. They went to the same church and talked, often at length, when she filled up her Subaru or when they bumped into each other in town. Yet the way Micah talked about Rick gave her a deeper, richer perspective on the mechanic, and she had enjoyed their little conversations more and more over the summer.
As they strolled down the beach, a wave broke free from the others and sprinted toward their shoes. They stepped back in unison, then watched the water recede into the sea.
“Can I ask you something a bit personal?” Rick said.
“Sure.”
“I was hoping we might have a conversation about our mutual friend.” Rick pulled off his Rams hat and rubbed his graying head.
“Micah?” Sarah’s face warmed, and she replied without looking at Rick.
“You thought I might be talking about someone else?” Rick laughed.
“No.”
“I care for him, Sarah. I’ve seen a lot like him over the years. But not a lot like him.”
“Care to explain?”
“Not really. You probably know what I mean.”
She knew exactly what he meant.
They walked out among three lone rocks the outgoing tide had left naked. Sarah bent down and touched the back of a burgundy-toned starfish that hid under an outcrop of rock.
“I see amazing gifts in him.” Sarah watched the sun sparkle on the waves. “I also see a man in chains of his own making, and he doesn’t even know he’s bound by them. Someone who deep down wants freedom. Who doesn’t know who he is. I see the man he could be. Most of all I see”—she looked up at Rick before finishing—“myself.”
“Before your injury.”
“Yes.”
The wind picked up and Rick zipped up his bottle green Windbreaker in protest.
“What do you see in him?” Sarah said.
“The same. So I’m praying for him. Being a friend. Jesus invited me into his life so I answered.”
They eased farther down the sand alone, only spotting an occasional early morning jogger.
“Can you trust me?” Rick asked softly.
She said nothing.
“You can trust me.”
“And if I do?”
“You’re asking yourself, ‘Could I fall in love with Micah?’ And you’re scared of getting hurt because of things you know.”
She turned away and begged the wind to dry her tears quickly. Love? How could he know that? Was it that obvious?
“You have to be strong, Sarah. Be true to what God has spoken to you about Micah. Don’t push it, but don’t hold back, either.”
Rick stopped walking. Sarah didn’t. How could Rick know what God told her? He probably wanted an indication that she’d heard him. She swallowed and put her head into the wind. She had heard. She had definitely heard.
||||||||
As she flipped through a mystery in the Cannon Beach Book Company late that afternoon, a muted voice behind her said, “While we don’t mind a small amount of browsing, we have a strictly enforced time limit on how long someone can look at the books without actually buying one.”
Sarah didn’t turn and said in mock whisper, “Then arrest me, and throw away the key.”
She turned to face Micah and tried to keep her heart from leaping ahead of her mind. It had been almost two weeks since they’d seen each other, and she admitted it—she missed him. Badly. She hadn’t returned his phone calls about the “praying for you for years” comment. What would she say? She couldn’t tell him. But she’d hoped to run into him every day since.
Sarah gazed into his baby-blue eyes and admitted Rick was right. Her feelings went deeper than missing. She was falling in love. A shopper next to them dropped her book, and Micah stooped to pick it up. It was a welcome distraction, giving Sarah a few more seconds to collect her thoughts.
God was drawing Micah, leading him. But he still had to make the choice to follow or not, and it frightened her, because she could tell he was resisting God’s pull. Micah had even told her he was.