The Guest Book by Marybeth Whalen Page A

Him to answer her prayers, but what right did she have to even utter them after her long absence?
    The pictures in the guest book were nothing more than a childhood fascination, and she was simply a silly woman with romantic notions about a person who was most likely married by now and no longer visiting this beach. It was an impossibility to think of finding him after all these years.
    And yet, hope stirred somewhere deep inside of her, sprouting after years of dormancy underneath the protective layers she’d let form over time. Underneath the vast, starry sky, the ocean waves pounded out an ancient rhythm, her mouth spread into a full smile, and she began to speak out loud to the Godher father told her would always be listening, no matter when she was ready to speak. Her dad believed God loved her that much. Macy hadn’t believed that in a long time, but perhaps it was time to work on believing again — in more ways than one.
    Her voice was weak at first, but grew stronger with each word she uttered. “Well, God, I’m here on this beach, talking to You for the first time in a long time. And I think You saw what happened back there in the beach house.” She laughed a little. “I mean, You see everything, so of course You did. You saw Max and Emma and my mom and me. And You saw the picture I found. And I guess that’s what I’m here to talk to You about.”
    She traced a line in the sand with her foot, her eyes scanning the stars as if the heavens might open. “The thing is, I know I have no right to ask You for anything. But … I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad. Being back here and … thinking of him makes me think about You.” She smiled a little, thinking how much her dad would like knowing that. “So what I want to ask You is if You could maybe find someone for me. Someone I think I’m supposed to meet. You know the person who drew pictures for me in the guest book all those years ago?”
    She shook her head. “Who am I kidding? Of course You know the person.” She scanned the sky again, wishing God would spell out this man’s name with stars or somehow make this easy. “The problem is I don’t know who he is. But I’d really like to. So could You send him to me, maybe? Like soon? I mean, I’m not trying to tell You what to do or anything. It’s just we’re only here for two weeks, so … I mean, anytime in the next two weeks would be fine.”
    She sat down in the sand, bowing her head so it rested on her knees. “I would really, really like to find out who he is. And maybe even see if there might still be something between us. Because it’s always seemed like there is. Or there was. Who knows what it would be like now. I mean, except You, of course. You know.”
    She sighed. “I guess I’m a little rusty at this praying thing. I’m afraid I’m not making any sense.” She sat quietly for a few minutes, thinking about what she was really trying to say to the God of the universe, what she really wanted. “I guess I just want to find love. And I think I could find that with him — except I don’t know who he is. And now so much time has passed. It’s really going to take a miracle. But my dad always said You make miracles happen. And never to be afraid to ask for one. So this is me asking You for my miracle. And trying to believe that You’ll give me one.” She smiled again, allowing hope to swell inside her. “So I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for him?” She nodded to herself, affirming her plan.
    Tears filled her eyes as she closed out her prayer with one final, heartfelt request. “And God,” she added, “if You see my dad, could You tell him I said hi and I love him and miss him very much? That would be good too.”
    Macy stood up and headed back to the beach house, trying to hold on to the feeling of God’s nearness, images from the guest book filling her mind like a slide show as the ground changed from sand to boardwalk to pavement to the steps of the beach house