TWO DAYS AFTER HER LIFE-GIVING conversation with Derrek, Allison drove down I-5 with Bruno Mars crooning in her ears and nothing on her mind except escaping for four nights and almost five days. Three of Derrek’s stunt kites lay in her back seat, but that was the last thought about Wright Architecture she was going to allow into her head. No thoughts of work, of the partnership, of getting her dad’s debt paid off—nothing but the sky and the wind and the waves.
The trade certificates Derrek had given her were for a hotel in Cannon Beach that she’d known about for years and had always meant to visit. She’d always headed farther south in the past.
Cannon Beach was close to the Washington border, which meant she could get there quicker and stay longer. And she’d finally get to check out famous Haystack Rock. A little online research she’d done before she left claimed Haystack Rock was the third tallest intertidal structure—one that can be reached by land—in the world. Two hundred thirty-five feet high.
As soon as she checked into her hotel, a mile or so south of Cannon Beach proper, she put on shorts, shades, and sandals and headed north up the beach. Kites and blankets and foraging seagulls dotted the sand. Brave souls jumped waves in the frigid waters of the Pacific. She didn’t hurry, stopped and admired every sand castle along the way, and said hello to all the beach walkers coming from the other direction. By the time she reached Haystack Rock, no world existed except for the one she stood in at that moment.
Allison stared at the top of the massive rock and thought it appeared even higher.
She gazed at tufted puffins with their squat black bodies, large orange bills, white faces, and tufts of yellow feathers above their eyes. An army of seagulls landed and lifted off the rock as if part of a massive choreographed dance.
She stood on the beach and watched till a rogue wave reached her toes, then till the tide crept in enough to cover her feet up to her ankles. Compared to the vastness of the ocean, she felt small. Insignificant. And that was a very good thing. A reminder that he was God, she was not, and that all along he’d had a plan to rescue her.
The next morning Allison rose before dawn and jogged out toward the ocean to where the sand was damp and hard, then headed north. Word from the locals was that at extremely low tide it was possible to get around the point that kept people from reaching Crescent Beach most of the time.
Perfect. It would be a chance to get in a short run—probably less than three miles—and at the same time explore an untouched beach alone. She couldn’t imagine many others getting up so early. And this wasn’t a morning she wanted company.
She reached the point minutes later and stared at the water lapping at the rocks. Shoot. The water was at least a couple inches deep on the outgoing waves, and probably six inches on the incoming waves. But still, she’d come this far. And what was a little water? She wasn’t going to melt, as her mom had always said when she and her brothers were little.
Allison waited till the water was at its lowest point, then sprinted around the outcropping, knees high, arms raised, her shoes sending little geysers of salt water up onto her socks, legs, shorts . . . and the occasional splash onto her running jacket.
By the time she reached solid sand on the other side of the outcropping, she was half soaked. But getting drenched was worth it. She found herself utterly alone on a beach at least half a mile long. The sand was perfectly smooth, a bit darker shade than the sand she’d come from. At the far end of the beach a cape jutted into the sea about a quarter mile. Had to be Ecola State Park that she’d read about.
Allison jogged down the beach in the dead center between the water and the steep rise to her right. The cliff was lush with trees and bushes. Likely too steep for trails, but when she reached the end of the beach minutes later, she spotted weather-worn handrails at irregular intervals along the steep wall, leading up to what looked like a park on top of the cape. Must have been a trail up to the top at one point in time.
She wandered slowly down to the edge of the water and peered at a lighthouse set on a tiny island. She studied the waves that seemed to have no pattern yet formed a pattern nonetheless.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, God, but—”
That was as far as Allison got. She saw distant motion in her peripheral vision. She squinted and spotted two figures coming around the outcropping. They stopped for a moment, then sprinted toward her. So much for being alone.
“Thanks, Lord. Just what I needed right now. Great talking to you.”
They came straight toward her, a man and a woman who didn’t slow or veer off course till they were twenty yards away. Then the man slowed, lurched almost to a stop, threw his head back, hands on hips, and shifted his weight back and forth as he caught his breath. The woman came to a halt beside him half a second later, hands on her legs, breathing heavily.
Allison stepped back a few paces, then started to turn away, when the man spoke.
“Sorry. We didn’t mean to startle you, but whoever passes the tree first wins.” He pointed to a huge driftwood log where the sand met the undergrowth coming down the hill.
He stepped over to the woman, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and laughed. “All tied up again.”
She smiled and said, “As it should be.”
They took each other’s hands and strolled over to her.
“My name’s Micah Taylor. This is my wife, Sarah.”
“I’m Allison Moore.”
“It’s good to meet you, Allison.”
“You too.”
“You’re a runner, it looks like,” Sarah said.
“I try to be.” She gave a quick shrug. “I ran a bit in high school.”
“Really?” Micah looked at her with curiosity. “What’d you run?”
“The 800 meters, and the 1,600.”
“No kidding. I ran the 800 in high school.” He smiled at Sarah. “Nowadays the running is a bit limited.”
Sarah laughed. “Severely limited. We have two young boys at home, so we don’t get out together that often. But we work at getting time for just the two of us as often as we can.”
“Are you with someone, Allison?” Micah asked.
“No. I’m not.” She looked down at the sand. “I’m divorced.”
Micah laughed, a full-bodied laugh stuffed full of joy. “Oh, no, forgive me. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean . . . I was wondering if you’re on vacation here with anyone or on a trip by yourself.”
“How do you know I don’t live here?”
“We can always tell who the tourists are.” Micah grinned at Sarah.
“He’s not going to explain that, Allison, so let me.” Sarah shoved Micah playfully and he laughed again. “When we first met, he was down here visiting from Seattle and I used that same line on him.”
Allison peered at Micah. “You’re from Seattle?”
“Yeah. Originally.”
“That’s where I’m from.”
“Really.”
“Well, Issaquah. I work in Bellevue.”
“I was in Bellevue often. Then I came down here.” Micah grinned again and motioned at the ocean and the beach. “You’d better be careful down here—you might end up wanting to stay.”
“I already do,” Allison said. “So you live around here then?”
“About four miles south of town. It’s a good run from there to here and back.”
Allison peered at them. Happy together. Obviously. Something about them was irresistible. Both were attractive, but it wasn’t just physical.
“I’m surprised to see anyone else on this beach at this time of day,” Allison said.
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “There’s rarely any others here this early in the morning. Sometimes all day.”
“But you’re here.”
“We come here every two or three months.” Micah kissed Sarah on the cheek. “Either up to the top, at Ecola Park, or down here at low tide.”
“Special reason?”
“It was the place we came to on our first date.”
Sarah laughed. “It wasn’t a date. He followed me, or tried to.”
“Tried to?” Allison asked.
“Let’s just say Sarah is better on a road bike than I am. But on a mountain bike . . .”
“He’s still not as good as me.” Sarah brought her hand to the side of her mouth in a mock whisper and said, “But sometimes I let him think he’s better.”
Allison laughed. There was something about the two of them that drew her like a magnet. A kind of energy, or warmth—it was hard to put into words.
“Did you work in Seattle, Micah?” Allison moved a pile of sand back and forth with her shoe.
Micah smiled at Sarah, sharing a private joke, but not at Allison’s expense. “I suppose I did. In another life.”
“Another life?” Allison glanced back and forth between them. “Like reincarnation another life, or a long-time-ago another life?”
“The third option.”
“I didn’t give you a third option.”
“I know.” He winked at Sarah. “It’s quite a long story, with a few parts that are hard to believe. Maybe we can tell it to you someday.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good, because I have a feeling we’re supposed to tell you everything.”
“What?” She frowned at him.
“Sorry,” Micah said as he looked out over the ocean. “I tend to go too deep with people too fast.”
“That’s okay.”
Micah glanced at Sarah, then fixed his gaze on Allison. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Do you believe in God, Allison?”
“Yes.”
“So do we. And I think this is more than a chance meeting,” Micah said as if that explained everything. “But for the moment we will let this rest in his hands, and we’ll follow his lead when it’s time to move.”
“That’s it?” Sarah asked. “That’s not telling everything—it’s telling nothing. That’s all you’re going to say to Allison?”
“Yes.”
She turned to Allison and shook her head. “Don’t feel bad. We’ve been married for eight years and I still can’t stop him from doing that. Mr. Cryptic. But don’t worry, he always eventually tells you what he’s thinking.”
“And if I never see you two again, which is highly likely?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely.” Micah grinned again. “Like I said, not a chance meeting.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We haven’t seen anyone here this time of day for at least six months. And last night we had Chinese food, and my cookie said I’d meet a new friend today.”
“Quite the coincidence,” Allison said.
“Nah.” Micah stared at her, a smile seeming to want to surface, but it didn’t. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”
For the first time since he and Sarah had sprinted up to her, Micah’s countenance went hard. Not unkind, but deadly serious. A moment later the laughter that seemed to be a centimeter below the surface lit up his eyes again.
He winked at Allison and pointed behind them. “I have good news about getting back.”
“Oh?” Allison said.
“Notice anything?” Micah pointed at his and Sarah’s shoes. “Dry.”
“How—”
“My guess is you read the tide table wrong.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” Micah grinned. “We have about another ten minutes before the water gets far enough in to get us wet.”
“I got my feet wet for nothing.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“How would you look at it?”
“You’ve created a memory, one you might even laugh at years from now.”
As they jogged back, Allison stole glances at the easy play between Sarah and Micah. They had the magic she longed for, the magic she thought she’d had with Kyle. But not enough apparently. He’d come home early that day five years ago, invited her out on their back deck, and said he had something to tell her.
“Are you okay?”
He looked sad and nervous, and he scratched at his forearms as if ants crawled on them.
“Yes, but I don’t think . . . I don’t think we’re going to be.” Kyle glanced at her, and in that instant she knew.
“You’ve decided to leave. Good. I should have kicked you out already.” She turned and started to walk back inside.
“What?”
She stopped and said, “I’ll give you half an hour to get out.”
“What? I didn’t say I was leaving or that I even wanted to.”
She just stared at him. “Get. Out!”
“How do you know—”
“You want to know? Really?” She walked up to him and popped him in the shoulders. “Fine. I pretended. Did a pretty good job of it. Convinced myself—almost—you weren’t doing that to us, but I guess I have to stop pretending, don’t I?”
“I haven’t even told you—”
Allison walked to their sliding glass door and leaned against it. “Do most men really think their wives and girlfriends are that stupid? That we can’t see when your eyes are roaming over another woman? That we think your flirting is as innocent as you say? You think I missed that? The way you lingered around Tanya, laughed at her jokes? The way she batted her eyes at you like a teenager?”
“Al—”
“I know exactly what I’m supposed to do.” She stared at the fledgling apple tree they’ d planted two years back. “I’m supposed to fight for you. But I can’t, because I have been fighting for you, fighting for us for seven years. I gave you my best. Everything that I was. Obviously it wasn’t enough. So go, be with her.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Kyle threw his hands out to his sides. “I’m still with you. I don’t want us to be over, but I can’t deny that I’m also in love—”
“Save it!” Allison raised her palm.
Sarah’s voice cut in. “Allison?”
She blinked and looked over at Sarah jogging beside her.
“Sorry. Deep in thought.”
Sarah laughed, eyes full of light. If they lived closer, they might be friends. Maybe in eternity. Sarah motioned south with her thumb.
“Do you want to take one last look at Crescent Beach before we sneak around the tip?”
“Right. Yes.” Allison scanned the beach, the cliffs, the lighthouse out on the little island, and took a deep breath of the briny air. This meeting was one to remember. She didn’t know why exactly, but it was. Apparently Sarah knew it as well.
“Thank you.” Allison reached out and touched Sarah’s arm, and Sarah took Allison’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“For what?”
“Having me lock this moment into my mind.”
“Very welcome.”
After getting around the point without their shoes touching the sea, they jogged the rest of the way back in silence. When they reached Haystack Rock, the three of them slowed.
“Allison, sorry to be forward, but can Sarah and I take you out for breakfast tomorrow morning?” He waggled his thumb toward town. “The Fireside Inn makes a mean ham and cheese omelet, and wars have been waged over the secret recipe for their french toast.”
Sarah slid in front of Micah. “You don’t have to pretend to laugh. Deep down he knows he’s not funny.”
At that, Allison did laugh.
“Is that a yes?” Micah asked.
“It is.”
Saturday, June 29th
I met a couple on the beach today, Micah and Sarah Taylor. If I believed in reincarnation, I would say I knew them in a previous life. I felt a connection. We’re having breakfast tomorrow, and I have a feeling that something is going on behind the scenes that I can’t see. Does that make any sense? Not really.
Probably as much sense as Richard’s idea about the dry bones, which I still have no idea how to speak to.
“Get the partnership done, Derrek!”
“A new man will come into my world and we’ll fall in love!”
“Get out of my mom’s life, debt!”
“Make working with Linda easy!”
The end. Amen. And time for bed.
Allison laughed at herself, but it was a bitter laugh. Richard wanted her to speak into existence those things that were not? There. She’d done it. Now what? Sit and wait till these things magically happened?
She peered out at the last flutters of moonlight on the ocean, and the view took her back to childhood vacations on the beach, in the woods, in the mountains. She turned back to the journal.
Days as a kid seem so long ago. The forts Parker and I used to build! I’d love to have pictures of those. And the battles, oh my, the wars we would wage. We were warriors. Covered our faces in mud, took my bows and arrows, and practiced with them for hours. And Parker, he had the champion of swords to beat all champions.
Allison laughed as the memories flooded in, this time a laugh of light.
“Look out!” Parker shouted as they tore through the woods, their kingdom, a mile from their home.
Allison spun and shot three arrows into the eyes of the twenty-feet-tall giant that rumbled toward them. Parker leaped aside as the giant reached them, then gave a mighty slice at the giant’s leg. Another three arrows launched. Another great carve from Parker’s sword into the giant’s other leg. Seconds later the giant crashed to the ground.
“We did it!” Parker shouted.
“Yes, but look behind you!” Allison cried.
More than thirty trolls with axes and hammers thundered toward them.
Allison and Parker looked at each other for a moment, then shouted, “For the kingdom!” and launched themselves at the trolls. Half an hour later, covered in mud and exhausted, with scrapes and torn T-shirts and shorts, they grinned at each other and laughed.
“Another mighty battle won!” Parker cried. “By who?” He grinned as they started their victory chant.
“By who, you ask?” Allison said as she strutted among the trees. “The greatest!”
“The greatest who?”
“The greatest warriors!”
“The greatest warriors what?”
“The greatest warriors the kingdom has ever known!”
They saluted each other, Allison with her bow, Parker with his sword, then cried in unison, “May it ever be so!”
They worked their way through the woods into their backyard, where their mom puttered in the vegetable garden and their dad read his paper.
Their mom looked up when she saw them and sighed. “Not again.”
“What?” Parker said.
Their mom rose slowly to her feet and walked over to them. “I’ve told you, Allison, you have to stop that. You’re not nine anymore. You’re twelve years old. You have to start acting like a lady.”
“I’m not a lady. I’m a warrior. So is Parker. We’re the mightiest warriors the kingdom has ever known.”
“No.” Their dad’s voice floated through his paper, still held in front of his face. “You’re not. You’re a princess. Princesses don’t fight. They princess.”
“No, Daddy, I—”
“Dad, not Daddy.” He brought down the paper. “And you tear your clothes, you get scraped up, and you’re bleeding. That’s not a princess. Your mom’s right. Grow up.”
He pulled the paper back in front of his face. Allison and Parker turned to their mom.
“You heard your father. When you were kids, the games you two played were fine. But you’re not kids anymore. You’re a young man, Parker, and you’re a young woman, Allison. Time to put away the make-believe games.”
Over time the reaches of their kingdom had expanded to beaches and campgrounds and mountains. But the scene with their mom and dad repeated itself in various forms over the next few years after that day, and she and Parker left their kingdom behind. Parker grew up. And then, so did she.
Allison sighed and shut the journal. Enough living in the past for one day. Time to look to the future. That was what existed now. But in that moment the make-believe past felt far more real.