Bridge to a Distant Star (26 page)

She rummaged through a drawer, debated putting on socks, but quickly vetoed that idea and tossed them aside. Slipped on worn but comfortable sandals. Took one last glance at herself in the mirror and nodded, satisfied.

After shoving books and notebooks into her backpack, Michal wondered if she should say something to Beth. The sound of regular breathing proved Beth had drifted back to sleep. Afraid her roommate might be irritated if awakened again, Michal thought better of that idea. Feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration, she closed the door softly behind her.

As Michal hurried to chapel, her thoughts shifted toward Florida, to her Aunt Sarah. Spring break was only a few days away, and she’d already purchased a bus ticket to Fort Myers—how good it had felt to finally hold that small piece of paper in her hand—the confirmation she really was going. Now it was safely stored away, tucked into the book of Psalms in the Bible she kept in her room.

“Hey. You’re walkin’ like a woman on a mission. Some sort of special entertainment going on that I don’t know about? That the reason for the huge smile on your face?”

Michal had been so focused on her trip to Florida that she’d taken no notice of others around her—not even Allistair Fuller, a McMaster’s student who wasn’t just anybody. This was
the
Allistair Fuller, number-one guy of interest to all her suitemates (and possibly every other woman in Peterson Dorm) for numerous reasons: He was a senior, star on the soccer team, baritone in a men’s quartet, and student body president. Michal’s suitemates had also listed off everything that made him “easy on the eyes,” as they described it: a noticeably square jaw (with the prerequisite dimpled chin); an unremarkable nose (no extra large or hooked ones accepted); wavy, dark brown hair (they were convinced he’d never go bald); deep-set, light blue eyes rimmed with dark, thick lashes (you could “get lost in them,” they’d insisted); and a wide, inviting smile (a definite plus).

Whether Allistair was aware he was exceptionally handsome was open for debate. Some insisted he was oblivious to it, and was actually very likeable. Others read conceit into everything he did: how he played the game of soccer, the way he spoke up and voiced opinions in class, how he conducted himself simply walking around the campus. When he was friendly to underclassmen, some would say, “Look, he’s not beneath talking to anyone.” While at the exact same time, detractors would cynically comment, “Look how condescending he is.” No matter what Allistair did, though, it was almost always noticed.

Beth and Michal hadn’t overlooked Allistair either. He was, admittedly, hard to miss. But in their equally offbeat, characteristically cavalier way of dismissing attitudes and desires the other girls wallowed in, the two MKs banished swooning over guys, pretty much completely. And Allistair in particular.

From Michal’s observation, if you gave most college women a mere five minutes of free time, their thoughts and discussions inherently drifted toward men. She and Beth were amazed by this constant infatuation; they were puzzled by the mesmerized spell their friends seemed to fall under. And frankly, they were irritated by the distraction the entire gender caused.

At the same time, and not so surprisingly, Michal hadn’t gone unnoticed by the men on campus—sans makeup and fussed-over hair. Even sweaty and covered with mud on the soccer field. Her infectious laugh, sunny disposition, and evident good looks (despite the lack of any attempts toward enhancement) had attracted a good deal of unwanted interest.

Up to this point, Michal had remained detached because she was singularly focused on completing her education. And ultimately, upon reaching her final goal: returning to the mission field in Ethiopia.
What else are these years about?
she’d asked herself, grilling her suitemates with that very question. They’d given her blank looks in response, proceeding to argue that making friends, competing in sports, and learning about life and love were equally important pursuits. Michal’s caveat was that none of those sounded especially spiritual. Anything that distracted from her goal, in Michal’s opinion, was a waste of time. More importantly, the time God held her accountable for.

Michal also failed to notice that before Allistair approached her, another young man—a nervous one with a dark green ski cap pulled so low it covered his ears and nearly his eyes—was about to call out to her and had just raised a spindly arm to attract her attention. When Stephen Jones noticed Allistair in such close proximity to Michal, however, he jerked the arm down to his side. Hunching his shoulders—which pulled his entire body into a posture resembling a huge comma—he scurried away.

The retreating Stephen Jones was the ultimate antithesis of Allistair. A lowly sophomore, shy and reticent and skinny, studious and therefore given to holing up in the library (hunched over a desk in yet another comma posture), studying for hours. Earning the straight As he’d received on every test and paper in every class—he was a most aggravating fellow student who elicited a disgusted “There goes the grading curve” from others whenever he walked into class on the first day.

Stephen had delayed joining any ministries in order to establish good study habits, was not confident about his athletic abilities, not on any sports teams, and generally—except for the grading curve consequences—not noticed. It was as though he were invisible, not actually taking up space in his environs. Even Stephen’s roommate knew very little about him except that he was exceptionally smart.

Besides his propensity for earning top grades, Stephen had three other notably positive traits. However, for whatever reason, he appeared to consciously hide these attractive qualities. One was his height, for he was tall enough to be center on the basketball team, should he seek the position. But Stephen’s slouch was such that few noticed he towered nearly a foot above them.

And then there was the dark green ski cap—the pilly, stretched-out, dirty dark green ski cap. Though Stephen didn’t wear it to bed, he kept it right next to his pillow; after the alarm went off, he reached for the ratty cap, which he immediately jerked back onto his head. Some speculated he wore it even in the shower, but the cap’s filthiness seemed to negate that rumor. The fact was that underneath grew luxurious, wavy blond hair; when exposed to the sun, his hair glistened with golden highlights.

Lastly, very few at McMaster’s had ever glimpsed what could be considered Stephen’s greatest asset: his dimples. Deep ones most women fervently wished they possessed themselves. These also were rarely revealed since Stephen simply didn’t find many reasons to smile. Had he done so, a number of women would’ve been intent upon enticing that smile to show itself more often.

If Stephen had added a personable nature to his intelligence, height, hair, and dimpled smile, he could have been a viable competitor to Allistair. But by embracing the labels of reclusive, nerdy, shy, and nearly mute, he rendered that nearly impossible. Still, a serious observer of people would have to arrive at this conclusion concerning Stephen: He was a diamond in the rough.

Stephen had finally gathered the courage to attempt a conversation with one he’d admired for her serious attitude about learning. Out of all the women on campus, Michal alone stood out as worthy of his time. But the moment Allistair stepped in front of him and claimed Michal’s attention, Stephen fled. In his panic, he plowed into an upperclassman who angrily chided, “Hey. Watch where you’re goin’, will ya?”

Muttering a quick “Sorry,” Stephen attempted to make himself invisible as he hurried toward chapel. Hoped Michal hadn’t noticed. And berated himself for his blundering attempt.

Lost in her own thoughts, Michal hadn’t noticed Stephen, and was caught off guard by Allistair. “Oh, hi. Guess I was already … well, out of here.”

Allistair’s hand flew to his chest and he dramatically stopped in his tracks. “Not Miss Studious. She of the ‘I’ve got to study all evening. I don’t have time to go get pizza. I can’t take Saturday off to go to the lake.’ Surely not that Michal McHenry? I’m appalled.”

She laughed. “Okay, I confess: I was thinking about spring break—not classes or studying. Not the paper I have due tomorrow or the quiz in Epistles. Stuff I should be thinking about.” Michal glanced up at Allistair, smiling. “I’m going to Florida to visit my aunt. And honestly, I can’t wait to get there.”

He grinned back at her. “Gotta ask you something. Your name. Michal?”

It was the usual question, and she was used to it. But aggravation at her mother’s choice of names still coursed through her every time someone inquired. Again. “Have you seen how it’s spelled?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

She spelled it for him. Raised her eyebrows and waited. “Well? Come on, Bible major. Certainly you recall the story of a certain biblical character named David?”

Allistair’s face lit up. “Oh. Saul’s daughter—who became David’s wife. That Michal. But why—?”

“Why name me that? Because when my mom was pregnant with me, she was convinced I was going to be a boy. And that God wanted her to name him Michael, after my dad. So she did. Sort of.”

He laughed. “Well, I think that’s pretty cool. Not everybody gets to have unusual names like we do. Allistair’s certainly not your common, everyday name either—and wouldn’t have been my first choice. So … on another topic. Where in Florida you going anyway?”

“Fort Myers.” Michal closed her eyes, the pleasure of daydreaming apparent on her face. “I intend to spend every possible moment at the beach. Doing nothing but sleeping and swimming. Maybe try out a boogie board, since everyone tells me they’re a blast. How about you?”

“Traveling with a ministry team and my quartet to North Carolina.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I heard.”

“We’re doing concerts near Atlanta, Greenville. Columbia, too, I think? Rumor has it we’ll spend at least a day somewhere around Myrtle Beach.”

“That would be neat.” Michal felt embarrassed, realizing how self-serving her time at the beach appeared compared with Allistair’s Christian service work.

“You’re on one of the ministry teams, aren’t you?”

Michal glanced up to meet his eyes again, giving him an appreciative smile for pointing that out. “Yeah, I am. But freshmen don’t get to travel overnight.”

“Sure. I remember. I didn’t go on an overnight trip till I was a junior. Didn’t qualify until then because of my soccer games.”

“You’re an amazing goalie.” Michal blushed, realizing what a groupie she must’ve sounded like. “I mean … um, in Ethiopia, just about every kid plays soccer. We didn’t have many real soccer balls there, though. At least not where I lived. So we’d use just about anything as a substitute.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I guess the strangest was a really big taro.” She laughed as Allistair gave her a questioning look. “Oh, a taro’s like a potato. Thicker skin, kind of hairylike.” Michal laughed again. “We kicked that nasty thing around until it literally fell apart—in chunks, all over the road.”

“We? You mean you played with it too?”

“Yeah, me and my brothers. Boarding school was the only place where we had a real soccer ball.” She brightened at a sudden memory. “Once one of our supporting churches sent us a rubber ball—it was actually for playing volleyball, I suppose. But we didn’t have a net or anything for that. So instead we kicked it around, played soccer with it as long as it lasted.”

Reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear, Michal shook her head, smiling at the picture in her mind. “Which wasn’t for very long. I think it hit a rock and deflated pretty quickly. Then we kicked that pathetic-looking lump of rubber around. Looked pretty funny too.”

Michal stared down at her feet, avoiding Allistair’s steady gaze. Students going into chapel pushed around them and they moved with the rush, trying to get out of others’ way. “Well, better get to our seats before chapel starts. Before we’re late.” She glanced up at him, then quickly looked away. For whatever reason—and it was puzzling and annoying to her—she felt embarrassed. Again.

“Yeah, guess so.” They went inside, where Allistair offered—as though passing someone in a hallway, never to be spoken to again, Michal assumed—“Well, see you later.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Allistair started toward the seniors’ assigned seats, but abruptly stopped. Turned back to Michal. “There’s a home basketball game tomorrow night. Would you like to go?”

Totally caught off guard, Michal was speechless, unable to think clearly. Neither the tenor of his voice nor the look on his face betrayed anything—whether it was purely a spur-of-the-moment idea, something he’d regret later. Or if he’d actually considered asking her somewhere. She couldn’t even tell if this was a genuine invitation or a “be kind to the MK” scenario. Realizing he was still staring at her—that time had passed—she stammered, “I … um, hadn’t thought about it. I’ve got an exam in New Testament on Friday I need to study for.”

He tucked his Bible at his side, thrust both hands down into his pockets. They could hear strains coming from the chapel’s huge pipe organ. “Gotta take a break sometime. But hey … if you really need to study …”

Michal could feel a sense of import: It was one of those defining moments, an impression that something significant weighed in the balance. Her intuition whispered this was more than choosing between a date and the need to study. And it was beyond the well-defined box dividing what it took “to accomplish my goal of graduating” and any activities that were “a waste of time.” A choice that defied the comfortable lines she drew to separate sacred from secular. Christian and biblical from unspiritual and sinful. Some sense of nagging exigency demanded,
Don’t miss this opportunity.