Bridge to a Distant Star (2 page)

Book One

Deny Yourself

April 2009

Suburb of St. Petersburg, Florida

“Emilie, face it. You’ve run out of
E’
s,” Maureen needled her friend. “We’ve been through all of this before.”

By habit, Maureen’s gaze drifted toward the window to study the bluebird house in the backyard. The Roberts’ home was typical of the coastal section of Florida: stucco topped by a terra-cotta roof, a sprawling ranch with St. Augustine grass precisely trimmed, flowering bushes and fruit trees dotting the yard. The early arrival of spring this year had been conducive to lush growth, and the bushes and plants were already threatening to overwhelm their prescribed boundaries.

Her attention distracted again, Maureen moved to the sliding glass doors overlooking the pool. It had been cleaned yesterday, and the feel of its soothing water, now marked and variegated with alternating lines of shadow and light glistening in the sun, beckoned to her. Glancing upward through the slats of the screened pergola, however, she caught a glimpse of ominous clouds in the distance.

“I know, I know,” Emilie was saying, “But Ellie’s off to first grade in the fall—”

“And she’s your baby and you can’t stand the idea of being alone,” Maureen interrupted. “Listen to me. It has to stop sometime, Emilie. You can’t continue having another baby every time a child goes off to school.”

“But Emma’s a
junior
. She’ll leave for college in a little over a year.”

“Emma’s ready, you know that. A great student. Responsible. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to have more time for yourself?—squeezed in between caring for Eddie, Ethan, and Ellie. Not to mention your husband, or even Eunice the wonder dog.”

“Listen, I’m being serious now. Ed agrees with me.”

“Really?”

Emilie cleared her throat. “He even said the number
seven
is a biblical number.”

“You already have seven if you count the dog.”

“Maureen, I said I’m being serious. I think God really wants us to do this.”

Maureen sighed. Again sensing the weariness that had recently settled over her like a fog, she leaned against the sliding glass door, enjoying the coolness against her fair skin. Tall and willowy in build and movement, she had the usual coloring of an auburn redhead: freckles sprinkled liberally across light skin, with a concentration on her face, mostly across nose and cheeks. Which gave her a delightful eternally youthful and slightly mischievous look. What wasn’t typical, however, were the hazel eyes flecked with darker accents. Rarely did anyone glance at Maureen without noticing those lovely eyes, and ultimately feeling drawn to look more deeply into them. Maureen’s eyes promised a beauty and depth that few could resist. “I’m sorry, Em. I guess there’s no question then. I mean, if Ed’s on board and you’re both sure that’s what God wants …”

“Right. Although lately, Mo, there’s been … well, somewhat of a dis—”

A slammed door and raised voices interrupted the conversation. “
Mom.
Aubrey’s been in my room again and messed with my stuff.” Maureen winced as she heard each of Colleen’s words escalate in intensity.

“Emilie, I’m so sorry. But I have to go.”

“Sounds rather umm … testy over there.” Emilie chuckled, probably relishing the fact that the squabbles were currently at someone else’s home.

“Collie has
Rabbit.
” Aubrey’s wail reached a fevered pitch that matched her older sister’s, and Maureen’s shoulders tensed in response. “Rabbit is missing and I had to finded him and …”

“Your dumb rabbit better not be in my room!” Colleen shouted.

“Rabbit is
not
dumb.”

“Is so.” Colleen pulled her features into a dramatic scowl. Aimed it like a weapon at her sister. “It’s dirty and falling apart and smelly and …”

Willing calm, Maureen gracefully asked, “Girls, can you take this conversation into the family room, please? I need to say a quick good-bye to Mrs. Esteban and then I’ll be right with you.” Neither daughter budged, alternating glares at each other and Maureen. She pointedly turned her back on both of them.

Bobo, the family’s pint-sized Yorkshire terrier, took that moment to come to Maureen, scratching at her calf and yapping, demanding to be let out. “All
right,
Bobo. Emilie, you still there? I’m so sorry. Honestly, why does everything have to … happen in …” She opened the door to the backyard, then nudged Bobo out with her foot. Never thrilled about walking on grass, he required a little encouragement. Glancing at Colleen and Aubrey, Maureen made a hasty decision to follow Bobo out, firmly closing the door behind her. The humidity was immediately oppressive, but less so than the tension she’d escaped in the kitchen. “Where was I? Why does everything happen when you’re
attempting
to talk on the phone?”

Emilie chuckled again and Maureen pictured her friend’s slightly crooked, impish grin. Emilie always pulled the left side of her smile slightly higher, which also created a distinct dimple. It was one of those infectious smiles that seemed to constantly hint that she was enjoying a private joke, and was merely waiting for you to catch on. “I know this doesn’t sound like the most opportune time to present this argument, but Mo, I swear I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I weren’t a full-time mom.”

“At this point, friend, having grown children who’ve moved on in life sounds like heaven to me. Oh, almost forgot to tell you. I had a dream the other night that I was in labor and delivered a baby girl. When she popped out—yes, she
popped;
it was a dream, for heaven’s sake—instead of crying, the baby yelled, ‘NO.’”

Emilie exploded with laughter, the honking, no-holds-barred laugh that was distinctly hers. Maureen loved making Emilie laugh, fondly remembering the first time she’d heard the sound—at a dorm meeting when they were in college. Even a noisy room-length away, Maureen had caught that distinctive sound and found herself gravitating toward the source of the delightful outburst. And then promptly fell in love with the woman who owned it.

“Maybe I’d better start praying you have a boy? I suppose you could always name him Earnest. Or Eldridge,” Maureen offered. She fleetingly thought about peeking in the window to check on the girls. Decided against it.

“See? You admit there are
E
names left.”

“And there’s Evan.”

“Way too close to Ethan. I’d yell the wrong name constantly.”

“Good point. I really should go, Em. Oh, almost forgot—see you tomorrow at the Vacation Bible School meeting? Nine o’clock, in the sixth-grade room. With the hours I’m putting in at the shop right now I feel a bit overwhelmed. But Bill and I agree I need to stay committed to VBS, no matter what.”

“Yeah, Ed feels the same way, but I don’t see him volunteering to cut out two hundred and forty baskets for baby Moses.”

“Ha. But there
is
a payoff: The gang’s going to lunch afterward, right?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” Maureen clicked off the phone, squared her shoulders, and gingerly opened the door of the family room to face her daughters. Colleen’s wrath had reached the crisis stage. Aubrey’s lower lip began quivering. Full-blown tears wouldn’t be far behind, and Maureen dreaded the shift from laughing with her friend to conflict resolution. Some days it felt like all she did was referee arguments between the two. Sending up a quick prayer—
God, give me wisdom—
she set to the task.

“Mom, you gotta tell Aubrey to stay out of my stuff.
Out … of … my … room
.” Every word drawn out, driven home by a steely teenage stare at the three-year-old who glared right back—even though her lips were still trembling and her eyes were already glistening with the hint of tears. “I
need
my privacy,” Colleen said.

Maureen looked from one daughter to the other in exasperation and disappointment. After Colleen was born, she and Bill had tried for ten years to have another child—years of bargaining and pleading with God to put another baby in their arms. Their prayers were finally answered when Aubrey joined their little family. Bill and Maureen were convinced that compliant, easy-going, sweet-tempered Colleen—about to enter the “turbulent teens,” as friends had called it—would welcome her new sibling with nothing but loving acceptance and unbounded joy.

Had they merely been delusional? Or totally out of their minds?

“Aubrey, did you go into Colleen’s room? You know you’re not supposed to be in your sister’s room without her permission.”

Aubrey reached for a handful of her mother’s sweatshirt as she gazed up at her. Her security seemed tied to a need to clutch things—satin on the edge of a blanket, the hem of her dresses (to her mother’s exasperation, as Aubrey repeatedly revealed her own underwear), her daddy’s pocket (she could reach just that high), and of course, the ever-present Rabbit. She whispered, “I hada finded Rabbit, Mommy.”

“But why did you think Rabbit was in Collie’s room?” Maureen whispered back.

Aubrey held out her hands, palms up, with eyes wide open in feigned innocence. “’Cause … ’cause I fink he’s hiding in there.”

“See. I
told
you she’d been in my room. She’s always doing stuff like this and getting away with—”

Trying her best to remain calm, Maureen interrupted. “Colleen, I’m handling it.” She paused, took a breath, and looked at her eldest daughter. “How about you go read the first part of John 8? It’s the passage about throwing the first stone.”

The look Colleen gave Maureen hit like a direct punch to the stomach. “I’m sick of you throwing Bible verses at me,
Mother.
” The name was saturated with sarcasm and disrespect. “Like you’re one to lay that on
me.
I heard you talking about Daddy with Miss Mann the other day. I heard what you said about him. And then you act … all loving-like with Daddy. And I heard what you said to Mrs. Esteban, too. You really don’t think they should have another kid, but because they’ve decided
God
says they should, you’re like, all for it suddenly. That’s
sick.
”

The accusation made Maureen feel ill, causing her to regret that she hadn’t hung up the phone the instant the girls started arguing.
What on earth did I say to Sherry Mann? I can’t remember.
Impulsively, Maureen reached out to pull Aubrey into her embrace. “Colleen, I—”

“I know exactly what you’re thinking right now, too,” Colleen spit out with a sneer. “You’re worried about your friends, aren’t you? What they would think of
you
if they could hear me right now.”

Sickening silence. Maureen opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came.

“Knew I was right.” Colleen smirked and gave her mother one last disdainful, triumphant look before turning away. She walked down the hallway toward her room. “Here’s the disgusting rabbit.” A
thump
followed the pronouncement as it was thrown against the wall of the hallway, followed by the slam of her door.

“Mommy?”

A mommy again, not a
mo-ther
. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Can I get Rabbit now?”

“Sure.”

Lured by the glimpse of a bluebird that had just landed atop the birdhouse, Maureen moved to look out the window. She identified him immediately as a male, for he was a radiant indigo. For a moment, she simply drank in his glorious color, grateful for the respite. But then, distracted by the erratically waving leaves of the palm next to the house, she lifted her gaze to the sky. It was a sickly yellow, the hue that often precedes a major storm.

Though the air conditioner was running—generally a must for Florida’s climate—Maureen still noticed an uncomfortable mugginess. Absentmindedly she ran her fingers through her hair. Pulled a sticky shirt away from her neck and chest and used it to fan sweaty skin. The changing barometric pressure felt as though it were throbbing inside her head. And then, as storms along the volatile Florida coast tend to do, the rain rushed toward them with a force of its own, and raindrops struck against the window with a vengeance.

Maureen’s attention shifted back to the bird. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath, but now she exhaled, relieved to find the bird still there, protectively flattening itself against the birdhouse roof, feathers ruffled by the wind.
Please stay,
she whispered, pleading.
Go into the bird house, where you’ll be safe.
But he flew off, battling the aggressive wind as he fluttered away from her.

Blinking her eyes, stretching out her tense neck from side to side, forcing herself to
do
something, Maureen moved to the mundane, the comfortably familiar—she started dinner, pulling out lettuce and vegetables. It wasn’t until she nearly tripped over a small foot that she noticed her daughter hovering again. Aubrey grabbed a handful of sweatshirt, the need to clutch something heightened when she felt insecure. Rabbit was back where he belonged, none the worse for his ill treatment.
He couldn’t get much worse looking anyway,
Maureen mused, blaming herself for not being firmer with Aubrey about dragging it everywhere. It was rare that Rabbit got tossed into the washer.