Read Online Rooms: A Novel by James L. Rubart - Free Book Online

stood, and gripped the dark chocolate brown, semishag carpet with his toes, as if to anchor himself to reality.
    The walls of the hallway were painted in a faux gold parchment. They led to a dark, six-panel door with a brass knob. He crept toward the door. When he reached it, he inched his shaking hand up to the knob, then pushed with his pinkie finger.
    The door swung open on silky hinges, and Micah let out a low whistle. The ceiling and walls were made of glass giving a 180-degree view up and down the coastline. Two chairs made from Brazilian tauari hardwood faced the front windows, and a bookshelf set along the back held what looked like picture books.
    In the middle of the small room an easel held an oversized canvas. Next to it were a myriad of brushes and oil paints along with sketches and photos of ocean landscapes.
    Micah stared at the canvas. A stream meandered down an ocean beach through logs rubbed smooth by winter storms, and the artist had started creating jade ocean waves. Mountains shot up in the distance, and the rough outline of trees along the shoreline had been started.
    The painting exploded out at him. He could almost hear the gurgle of the stream running over sand and rock and see the wind weaving through the trees. Micah traced the edge of the beach with the tip of his finger, feeling the undulation of oil paint on canvas, imagining the soft, grainy feeling of running his hands through warm sand.
    The shadows cast by the mountain felt cool, seagulls crying overhead filled his ears, and the ocean thundered, explaining everything and telling nothing.
    This was creation. No photo could ever capture the emotion of a painting like this. This was legacy. It stirred a longing to create more than software. This was art worth devoting a life to. Pinpricks of joy fired off inside as he took it in. The painting wasn’t even a third complete, yet it captivated him.
    After twenty minutes he left the room, trepidation and pleasure filling him simultaneously. This room? Impossible. Yet it was here. He closed the door, then stood gazing at its surface. This room was a treasure. He placed his fist on the door, then slowly opened his fingers, stretching them to the point of pain, as if he could cover the whole door with his hand. The finish on the wood felt like cool silk.
    This house held secrets. He shuddered and eased away from the door without taking his eyes off it. As wonderful as the painting room was, Micah had to get away, try to put the room out of his mind. One strange room he could handle; two was over the edge.
    Sending him to the funny farm was apparently Archie’s primary objective.
    He took a spin through the rest of the house with the hair on his neck at full attention. Nothing different. It didn’t help him relax.
    A painting room. Okay. Yes, the painting was captivating. But what was next? A torture chamber? Worse, what if he walked into a room that was an in-living-color replay of what happened on this stretch of coast twenty years ago?
    The memory flashed into his mind before he could stop it.
    “Micah, Dad and Mick will be back from the store in a few, so we’ve got some time to play a just-you-and-me game.” His mom pulled down her pale blue sunglasses and winked at him.
    “Beach Ball Bonanza!” Micah said.
    “You start, kiddo.”
    Micah grabbed the rainbow beach ball, set it up on a little mound of sand, and scuffed back ten yards, his brows furled in concentration. Then he sprinted toward the ball and kicked it hard, an oomph spurting out of his mouth as his foot connected, sending the ball over his mom’s head.
    “Mom! Wind’s got it! It’s going into the ocean!”
    “I’ll get it.”
    “But those waves are big monster waves—”
    “They’re much bigger to you than they are to me.”
    “But what if—?”
    His mom stopped and smiled. “I’ll be fine, Micah. Really.”
    Micah yanked his mind back from the abyss and forced the memory down into the recesses of his heart.
    No.