Rooms - James L. Rubart [94]
“All right, more than unusual, but God has done some amazing things in your life since you came down here.”
“Agreed.”
“So, do you trust Him fully or not? Are these bizarre changes part of His plan or not? Do you believe no matter what happens, you don’t have to control it because He’s in control?”
Again, he didn’t answer.
“I think the reason it’s so hard for you, Micah, is because you’re still hanging on.”
“To what?”
“Your life.” Sarah stood, brushed off the back of her 501s, and reached down to pull him up.
Micah stared at her. “I know you’re good for me, even though you drive me crazy sometimes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sarah smiled.
The car was silent most of the way back to Cannon Beach. Sarah was unusually silent. Perceptive as always. He needed time to process their conversation, and she was giving it to him. It might have been better if she had talked. In the quiet he had to face her words. As usual she was right. A wave of frustration swept over him.
He was getting tired of her pushing him, forcing him to wrestle with . . . Maybe he’d be better off without her. What? He blinked at how powerful the thought was. Dump Sarah? No way. Crazy thinking. He shook his head, as if to toss the idea from his mind.
As they drove through Arch Cape Tunnel, Micah held his breath, a habit left over from childhood. A perfect snapshot of his life. Feeling lost in darkness and holding his breath to see what would happen next.
Tomorrow he’d do something to take his mind off his dual existence. Something so engrossing he wouldn’t have time to think.
Something probably a little bit stupid.
CHAPTER 35
Micah woke Sunday morning still determined to take his mind off his two intertwined lives. Sea kayaking would be the perfect distraction. He’d read a book on the sport and decided it was the ideal day to forage the waves of the Oregon Coast. So he’d never done it. Big deal. Maybe it was a bit risky, but how hard could it be?
Ten minutes later he stood in Cleanline Surf Shop perusing kayaks. He’d need a wet suit, too. Even though it was early September, the water temperature wouldn’t be more than fifty-four degrees, and Micah had no desire to freeze out among the foam.
“You done this before?” the clerk said as he rang up the sale.
“Yeah.” Micah thought back to the time he’d paddled around the glassy surface of Lake Union up in Seattle during high school. “Sure. Why?”
“It can get a bit intense out there. I just don’t want people to be caught off guard.”
“I’ll be fine.” He wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
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He would put in at Oswald West State Park, a fifteen-minute drive down the coast from Cannon Beach. He’d heard it was optimum for sea kayaking. Indian Beach just north of Ecola State Park was closer, but the bay here was wider, had fewer rocks to negotiate, and hopefully fewer people would be there to watch his freshman attempt.
A fine, steady rain fell as he pulled into the Oswald parking lot. By the time he had his kayak off the car, the wind had kicked up to fifteen miles per hour.
The walk down to the beach was longer than he would have liked, but its beauty eased the fatigue the hike brought on. Massive Douglas fir trees almost completely blocked the rain, and the stillness of the forest brought a feeling of peace. The only noise was a river he crossed twice with the help of rough-hewn wooden bridges.
Just before he reached the bay, he stopped in front of a sign that said, “Unusually high sneaker waves, deep water, and strong outgoing currents. Use extreme caution.” Micah glanced at the bay, then back at the sign. No problem. He’d be careful.
By the time he reached the sand, the winds had picked up even more, but the rain was dying into a fine mist that swirled, then settled softly on his face.
He waited a few minutes to catch his second wind and watch the chaotic pattern of the roaring waves in Smuggler’s Cove. He smiled. He felt alive. And alone. Surprisingly there had been no other cars in the parking lot, and he’d seen no one on the hike down except for