Bridge to a Distant Star (11 page)

“We’ll work this through, Mo. It may take some time, time away to heal.” She gripped Maureen’s arm so tightly that Maureen nearly flinched. Vanessa glanced down, then back up into her friend’s intent face. “But we’ll find each other again, I know we will.”

“Sure.” Maureen nodded, went through the motions of hugging Vanessa. And then drove home—though when she walked into the kitchen, she barely remembered how she actually got there. The ticking of the family room clock and Bobo’s pattering feet on the tile were the only sounds that greeted her. Until she heard a fairly loud
thump
. Curious about the source, Maureen picked up the dog and went to investigate where the sound might have come from.

Stepping out into the hot sunshine, she put Bobo down. Glanced around the yard. Totally out of character, Bobo immediately raced off to the left and then halted, tail wagging furiously. Walking toward him, Maureen froze when she spotted a patch of blue.

That
blue. Lying in the grass, and absolutely still.

“Bobo, no.” Frantically, she ran the short distance toward the object that, incongruously, she dreaded reaching. Pushed Bobo away. Knew now the thump was the sound of the mama bluebird’s hitting the window, suffering a fatal blow—against the window of
her
house.
She
was the cause of its death. Maureen immediately felt hot tears overflow and spill down her cheeks. There was not the slightest movement from the little body, the tiny head hanging at an awkward angle. Picking up the bluebird to gently cradle it in her hands, Maureen fell to her knees. And slumped there, sobbing.

Maureen had no idea how long she’d been there, miserable, weeping. But when she finally looked up, she spied the brighter male, sitting atop the bluebird house. The sight of the female’s mate, now alone, sent another stab of pain to her heart.

Eventually she got up and buried the tiny bird under a tree in the backyard. The male bluebird continued to hover, causing Maureen a fresh jab every time she saw him. And then she made a decision. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her cell phone and hit Bill’s number. Expecting his recording, she was surprised when Bill picked up.

“Hey, honey. Whew. Been a circus here, but you caught me at a good time.” She could hear the sounds of his leaning back in his squeaky chair, putting feet up onto his desk. “What’s up?”

“I’ve had …” Maureen realized she hadn’t prepared herself well, hadn’t given herself enough time. She swallowed, took a deep breath, seeking composure. “It’s been a rough day, Bill. Any chance at all you could get off early and pick up the girls?”

“You okay?”

The instant concern in his voice brought the threat of fresh tears. She blinked them back and swallowed again, feeling the uncomfortable lump in her throat like a pill was stuck there. “Um, sure. I was just hoping to take the afternoon to get some things done.”

“Well, ironically, I was going to call you and offer just that. I’ve had so many late nights lately that … well, I miss my girls. Thought I’d better make it up to them.” Maureen could hear his moving around in the chair again, pushing it away from his desk so he could open a drawer. “I’ll get Aubrey from my folks’ and then pick up Colleen. Maybe we’ll grab dinner out? Want me to get something for you, too?”

“No. Thanks.” Clipped words, hiding emotion. “I’ll be fine. And Bill. Thank you.”

“Glad to when it works out, honey. Like I said, I was planning to anyway. Guess we’re on the same page today, eh? Isn’t that nice for a change?”

Maureen pictured the smile she knew had eased onto his face, the familiar crinkling at the corners of his eyes, the slight dimple that would appear in his right cheek. She closed her eyes at the wave of feeling that threatened to erupt.

“Sure. Love you.”

“Love you, too. And have a good afternoon, okay?”

Maureen hurriedly clicked off the phone. Taking a deep breath, she picked up Bobo, depositing him in his bed. After changing into casual clothes and walking shoes, she headed out toward the beach. It was five blocks away, and Maureen set a brisk pace.

Once she reached the sand, she removed her sneakers. Couldn’t wait to dig her bare toes into the soft whiteness, luxuriating in the sand’s caress. The breeze off the water produced its usual magic: The tightness in her neck eased a bit, she visibly lowered her shoulders, the muscles in her face relaxed. And then Maureen waded into the water, allowing the surf to rise nearly to her knees before she backed away. Watching the retreating water pull at her ankles, seeing the curve of the eroding sand around her feet, finding the pea-sized holes created by tiny clams and shells rolling back into the surf from the wake of the wave—all the familiar sights welcomed her. Helped to soothe her inner turmoil.

And then she walked. Attempting to shut out all but the smell and feel of the sea breeze and the touch of sand and water on her feet, Maureen sought solace from her God.

Hours later, the beach was emptying when she noted how much lower the sun had sunk out over the gulf, producing a glorious pink-tinted sky. Families had gathered up kids and belongings, abandoning brightly colored plastic shovels and buckets, various piles of gathered shells. The cries of laughing children were replaced by the insistent cawing of the gulls. A gnawing in her stomach reminded Maureen she’d missed lunch and dinner. Reluctantly, she turned toward home.

Dusk. Maureen’s favorite time of day. As she hurried home, she stole glimpses into front windows to spy on families together. Often she’d be so intent on looking into a picture window that she’d miss the unevenness of the sidewalk and trip. Maureen smiled at herself, thinking how Bill would have accused her of
kravatzing
—their family’s made-up word for snooping. Finally spotting the welcoming lights of her own home, Maureen hurried through the back gate, eagerly reached to open the door. It was locked against her. She froze—one hand still clutching the handle, the other pathetically poised to push back the screen—as she took in the highlighted scene in the kitchen.

They were all laughing together—Bill, Aubrey. Even Colleen. Leaning eagerly toward one another, conspiratorially, their heads nearly touching. The ease and comfort of their banter was near idyllic. Exhibiting none of the tension that had revolved around them lately like a swirling tornado, making family life … miserable.

Bill had just finished scooping ice cream into their bowls, and was in the process of adding the colorful candy sprinkles on top of their mounds of whipped cream. Aubrey clearly gestured for more and Bill obliged, shaking the canister so hard the top came off—dumping a huge pile that covered her bowl. Colleen erupted with such a burst of laughter that she nearly fell off her chair, Aubrey’s shoulders bounced with delighted giggles, and even Bill laughed so hard that Maureen could hear his hearty roar outside.

The glow of the lights put a hazy, warm aura around each of their profiles. And as Colleen reached out to touch her dad’s arm … to playfully steal a scoop of the sprinkles from Aubrey … as Bill reached out to caress a raven ponytail, and then an auburn-colored cap of curls, the individual glows molded and melted into one. The three of them, deliciously happy, content. Complete.

Without her.

Immobilized, at first Maureen could only blink … and feel the pounding of her heart. And then it felt as though it wrenched painfully inside her chest, and instinctively, she reached one hand toward the source of the pain. The other pulled at the door again. As intense desire moved her to action, she tapped lightly on the door, trying to get her family’s attention. But they were laughing so hard, they didn’t hear her.
Don’t
want
to
hear
me?
she asked herself, realizing she didn’t want an answer.

Mere seconds went by, but to Maureen, they felt like hours. Heartbroken and unable to move, she watched. A bystander.

Until Bill happened to glance up and see her. Standing there, arms hanging limply at her sides. Startled, concerned, he jumped from his chair and rushed to the door. “Why didn’t you knock, Mo? Good gracious, you gave me a scare.” When she didn’t answer—didn’t move a muscle, but merely stood there, gawking up at him—he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her into the bright light of the kitchen. “
Maureen?
Are you all right, for God’s sake?”

Maureen nodded, mumbled, “Yes. Sorry, I was just—” She saw Colleen and Aubrey both staring at her, mouths open, as though she were a stranger. “I’m going to get ready for bed.” And then she abruptly turned away from them, walked down the hallway.

Bill momentarily stopped himself from following her, gripped the back of his chair for a moment and then, decision clearly made, he said, “Colleen, can you—” He waved a hand vaguely toward Aubrey and the scattered remnants of their ice cream party. “Can you clean up Aubrey and … everything?”

Colleen nodded. She looked up at him with eyebrows drawn together, questioning.

Bill shrugged his shoulders, glanced over at Aubrey and managed a half smile, and then walked resolutely toward the bedroom.

He found Maureen standing in front of her dresser, staring with unfocused eyes at her reflection in the mirror.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” he threw at her, whispering, but his voice seething with frustration.

Maureen looked at him vacantly. “What?”

Bill grabbed her arms, shaking her to get her attention. “Where have you been? What’s the matter with you, Maureen?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, pupils becoming smaller and focused now. And then she reached down to angrily pry his fingers off her arms. “I was walking on the beach.”

“The beach? For cryin’ … I thought you said you needed time to get things done?”

“I did. I needed time to … to
think.
To be alone, to pray. Is that a crime?”

“When it means selfish time away from your family—yes. It
is
a crime. What on earth?” He began pacing from one side of their bedroom to the other. “I don’t know what’s up with you, Mo. But this has to stop. Now.” He stopped in front of her, positioning his face only inches from hers. “You will quit this frivolous job of yours. Tomorrow. And then you’ll call Emilie and apologize. For whatever insensitive nonsense you said to her. Obviously you’re not capable of handling anything right now, so I want you to call Pastor Johnson and tell him—”

“How dare you.”

Startled, he took a step back from her. From the completely unexpected force behind her words. “Excuse me?”

“Who are you to order me to do … anything?”

Bill stepped forward again. Glaring at her, he spit out through gritted teeth, “I … am … your … husband. I know my role as your husband; do you remember yours—as my wife? Think about the verse Pastor Johnson spoke on just last Sunday. Deny yourself, Maureen. ‘Deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow me,’ Christ said.”

Maureen grabbed her antique silver-plated hairbrush and threw it with all her might at the dresser mirror, shattering it. Turned then to face Bill, tears filling her hazel eyes and spilling over, her voice pleading with him, “There. The facade that represents Maureen Roberts never existed anyway. Tell me, Bill, how do I deny myself when I’ve never had a self to deny?”

Her anger instantly vanished, released with the power of her emotion, and she dropped her arms limply to her sides. Only the sound of her soft weeping filled the room. And then Maureen crumpled to the floor, breaking into heaving sobs, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth.

Bill dropped down beside her and instantly pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Maureen, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “What place have we traveled to?”

He rocked her like a baby, combing a hand gently through her hair.

Minutes later, when her breathing had calmed, she whispered, “I can’t go on like this any longer, Bill.” She felt him stiffen, almost become rigid beneath her. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Are you saying …” his voice was hoarse, rough, “… are you leaving me?”

Maureen twisted around in his arms so that she could look into his eyes, and she put a hand on either side of his face. The hazel-flecked eyes sparkled with lingering tears. “Oh Bill,
no.
” She slumped back away from him, adding, “But I think I need … I think I do need some time away to think.”

Suddenly it was vitally important that Bill understand. “Do you … can you understand at all what I’m feeling? Because it’s like … like I thought I offered myself to God years ago. But I never thought I was worth anything, really.” She searched his face for understanding. “It wasn’t an offering at all, Bill, because I judged I never had anything to give. I want to find … somewhere within me … some worth that means I really am giving God something. That’s sacrifice. That’s a denial.” She shook her head. “Am I making any sense at all?”

He nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“Could I—?”

Bill raised his eyebrows, fear still clouding his eyes.

“If I could just go to the beach for a few days. To get some perspective.” Maureen ran fingers through her hair and then closed her eyes. “I learned something recently.” She chuckled and then shook her head. “You’re probably going to think this is just weird but, well, it’s about this phenomenon called averted vision. It’s when you try to look at a star and—”