THE FRENCH TOAST WAS AS good as Micah had said, and over the course of the next hour, Allison was captured by him and Sarah. By the time the check came, Allison and the Taylors had talked about their spiritual lives, their histories, and their favorite movies. Before she could stop herself, Allison told them about the journal, including Alister and Richard and Carl. She even told them about the words changing.
When she finished, they glanced at each other a few times before fixing their gaze back on Allison. A light seemed to flicker in their eyes, but they said nothing.
“This is the moment where you tell me it was nice to meet me, but I’m crazy and we’re never going to see each other again,” Allison said softly.
A serious glint returned to Micah’s eyes and he said, “No. The opposite. This is the part where I repeat the fact that I don’t believe in coincidence. Sarah and I were not planning on running to Crescent Beach yesterday morning, but yesterday evening Sarah said, ‘I don’t know why, so don’t ask me, but we have to run up to Crescent Beach in the morning,’ so we invited a friend to spend the night with us and be with the boys yesterday, and now here we are twenty-four hours later with you. Something’s going on that’s way bigger than the three of us.”
Allison stared at Micah, then Sarah, then back to Micah.
“You’re serious.”
“Deadly.” Micah pulled a credit card out of a zippered pocket on the inside of his running jacket and placed it on the bill. Their waiter snagged it a second later.
Micah steepled his fingers and said, “Now comes the part where you think I’m crazy.”
Allison locked eyes with his but didn’t respond.
“I think I might know what you do for a living, Allison.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” Micah grinned at Sarah, then looked back at Allison. “I think you’re an architect.”
Allison sat back in her chair. The intensity hadn’t left Micah’s eyes, even when he’d smiled a moment earlier. She looked at Sarah. Her expression communicated kindness. Understanding of how strange this must be. But she shared her husband’s intensity.
“How would you know that?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I got a picture in my mind just before Sarah and I started running toward you yesterday morning of a blonde woman huddled over a set of drawings?”
“I might, yes.”
“Thank you for believing me.”
The waiter brought back their receipt. Micah signed it and slipped his credit card back into his jacket, then looked at his watch. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we should get going. But what’s the name of your firm, if we wanted to get in touch?”
“Wright Architecture. In Bellevue.”
“Are you a partner in the firm?”
Allison stared at him for five seconds before answering. “I don’t know.”
Micah peered at her. “I don’t want to pry— Actually I do.” He smiled, and in that moment Allison had a feeling she’d see them again, sooner rather than later.
Sarah bopped him playfully on the head. “No, you don’t want to pry. You want to respect Allison’s privacy.”
“I do?”
“Yes.” Sarah punched Micah in the arm. “You do.”
Micah laughed and said, “Allison, this morning was an absolute delight. As are you. I hope we meet again someday.”
When Allison got back to her room, she picked up the journal and glanced through her entry from the night before. Again, no change. But this time it was okay. Life was coming around.