Bridge to a Distant Star (3 page)

Maureen leaned down, meeting Aubrey’s look at eye level. She gazed into eyes that were likewise unusual—considering Aubrey also had red hair—but unlike her mother’s, Aubrey’s eyes were a rich dark brown with matching dark lashes. Still, despite the difference in eye color, family and friends teased that Bill and Maureen had been given “one each” by God. Colleen took mostly after her father, sharing his darker olive skin and straighter hair, while Aubrey had inherited her mother’s auburn curls and fairer coloring—though Aubrey’s skin had less of a propensity to freckle. She did have a sprinkling across her nose and cheeks, however, which only served to highlight her eyes, like an ornamental frame around a picture.

“What’s up, Lolly Pops?” Maureen asked, using Bill’s nickname for Aubrey.

Dimpled fingers firmly gripped the stuffed animal against her chest. “Rabbit’s wowied.”

“About?”

“The storm.”

Maureen took Aubrey’s hand in hers and directed her toward the window. They stared out at the pellets of rain that were now striking fragile, budding blooms. “All the rain and thunder are out
there,
sweetie.” Maureen lightly squeezed her daughter’s hand. “We’re absolutely safe here in the house. God’s protecting us. Rabbit, too.” She pulled Aubrey into her embrace, healing the worry, wishing,
If only I could do this as easily with Colleen.
“Want to help me with lettuce for a salad? Yes? Bring over your step stool.”

Rabbit in one hand, Aubrey dragged the stool with the other. Another rumble of thunder made her pause momentarily, but then she scrambled up the steps to the sink, plopping the stuffed animal on the counter. “Rabbit will watch us, but we better keep a eye on him. He
loves
lettuce.”

“I suppose he does.” Maureen frowned at the grimy stuffed animal’s presence on the counter, but she reminded herself that distracting Aubrey from the storm was the higher priority. “All rabbits like lettuce and carrots, don’t they?” She broke off a small section of lettuce for Aubrey to wash.

Over the sounds of the approaching storm, neither had noticed the grind of the garage door and Bill’s entering the kitchen until they were greeted with his usual “I’m home.”

“Daddy!” Aubrey squealed in delight. “I’m helping Mommy.”

“I can see that.” Bill reached down to pet Bobo, who greeted him with a wiggling body and his imitation of barking: high-pitched yips. “How’s it goin’, ole boy? Survive another day in this female-dominated household?”

Tall with an athletic build, smooth olive skin, dark eyes, and a full head of nearly jet black hair—not counting a distinguished dusting of white at the temples—Bill’s coloring was totally opposite Maureen’s, a stark difference that had initially caught his interest. He moved like the athlete he was, gracefully, but with economy. Bill rarely wasted time, never sauntered anywhere, and approached life with a mix of good instincts.

Fifty years old, a family doctor at a thriving practice, Bill was a natural leader—not only at his office, but also at church, in the community, the girls’ school organizations, even events like a neighborhood pick-up basketball game. His easy assurance, commanding demeanor, and tone of voice made him stand out. People felt safe with Bill and trusted him. They came to him for advice.

“Look, Daddy.” Aubrey grinned up at him now, offering her cheek for a kiss. “I’m helping Mommy get the lettuce clean.” She proudly held out her well-handled—and therefore, rather wilted—piece of lettuce. “Colleen’s mad again but Rabbit and I don’t care. This is more fun.”

Bill turned to study his wife’s profile. He gave Maureen a peck on the cheek. “Hey. So what’s the deal with Colleen?”

Maureen waved off any concern, gesturing with the carrot she was peeling. “Nothing, really. Just the usual teenage stuff. How are things at the office?”

But Bill wasn’t fooled, taking note of the deflection and the telltale set of Maureen’s neck and shoulders. He reached up to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the collar. “Busy. Had several more inexperienced new mothers in today. I’m spending way too much of my time teaching them basics they should already know.”

“Isn’t that why you hired Carrie?”

“Had to let her go today, unfortunately. She just wasn’t getting the job done.” Bill reached out to tug on Aubrey’s ear, distracting her while he snatched a carrot.

“Oh, Bill. So Hailey’s back to picking up all the slack?”

“We all pick up the slack, Mo. And it’s my responsibility to make sure we’re all contributing as needed. Getting the job done.”

An edge had crept into his voice, and once again Maureen was eager to change the subject. “Would you start the grill, please? Once you get your clothes changed?”

“No problem.” He reached out to tug Aubrey’s ear again, eliciting another giggle before he headed down the hall, pausing momentarily at his other daughter’s door. Closed and
locked
door, as he discovered by attempting to give the handle a turn.

Dinner was strained, echoing the feel of the storm that mostly passed them by, skirting off to the north. It left the evening feeling bereft, the earth wanting what the skies flaunted but denied to give. Except for Aubrey’s chatter, conversations didn’t flow easily, thanks in part to the pointed one-word answers and grunts from Colleen. She ate little, mostly rearranged food on her plate, and asked to be excused as soon as Maureen began clearing the table.

Later, when Bill summoned Colleen for family devotions, she begrudgingly joined them. She’d not been an active participant for weeks, uttering only a word or two when directly questioned. But tonight Colleen amped the protest even higher, for her entire posture was in revolt; she sat rigidly with crossed arms, head pointed down as she stared at her lap. Maureen felt relieved when it was finally time to end with prayer.

Maureen had just tucked Aubrey into bed and closed her bedroom door when she heard Bill calling.

“Mo?”

Maureen leaned heavily against the door, closing her eyes and sighing. She’d hoped to escape it all—Bill included—by heading directly to bed. She wanted to fade into oblivion by watching some mindless television show until she fell asleep. It all felt so overwhelming at this hour.
Certainly I can get a better perspective in the morning
, she thought, convincing herself that checking in on Colleen wasn’t a good idea and hoping Bill’s call wasn’t regarding anything more difficult than helping him find a mismatched sock.

She reached for toothbrush and paste as Bill leaned against the sink, his back to the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t turn to face her, but she noted the disconcerted frown, the telling twitch along the line of his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

She inched away from him before she asked, “What did you need?”

He turned to face her, inserting his face into her line of vision. “Pretty obvious things aren’t good between you and Colleen. I take it you upset her again?”

“I upset
her?
” she said in shock, spraying toothpaste across the mirror, which of course further inflamed her frustration.

“Please keep your voice down, Mo. Okay, bad choice of words. But I need to know you’ve got a plan to handle this.”

“She was rude to
me.
” Maureen jammed her toothbrush back into its designated slot. “Can’t you ever try to see things from
my
perspective?” She could feel tears of frustration threatening, but she blinked them back.

“I’m just trying to help you view all the angles, Maureen. As a doctor, that’s what I do. Help people. I’m just trying to help you, too.” Spoken in controlled, soothing tones. His doctor’s voice.

Maureen yanked open a drawer, rummaging through neatly folded nightgowns until she spotted the oldest one she could find. She began pulling off clothes, tugging the gown over her head with such jerking, magnified movements that she tore off a button. “Aubrey put her Rabbit in Colleen’s room. Colleen had a fit about it. I tried to help
both
see they were wrong. Does that make me such a terrible mother?” She paused a moment. “And the bluebirds have rejected my bird house …
again.
” Crumpling onto the bed, Maureen allowed a few tears to spill over. “I ought to just take the stupid thing down.”

“Good land, Mo, what do bluebirds have to do with anything? You and Colleen aren’t speaking and
that’s
what you’re crying about?” He stared at her in disbelief, taking in her red, runny nose, disheveled hair, nightgown askew because of the missing button. He shook his head in amazement, sudden pity dousing all irritation, and eased down onto the bed beside her.

“I was just trying to help you, honey.” Pulling her against his chest, Bill tucked her head under his chin. Maureen continued to weep silently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Evidently this is some girl thing between you two that has to play out. Have you been praying about it?”

“Of course I have.” He could feel her stiffen.

“Then what’s the main issue here? What has you so upset, for cryin’ out loud?”

“She … she accused me of being a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite? Why on earth?” He pulled his arms from her, shifting his body so he could watch her reaction.

“I have no idea. Something about a conversation she says she overheard. On the phone.” Maureen got up to grab a tissue from the bathroom, blew her nose. “I’ll try to talk with her more about it tomorrow, Bill, but right now I have to go to bed.” She began pitching decorative pillows onto the floor, pulling back covers.

“What’s on for tomorrow?”

“Vacation Bible School meeting and a lunch.” Maureen stopped a moment, considering. “My sense is that I can’t … I can’t rush this. And you can’t push a teenager either—especially not Colleen. You know that. Not until she’s good and ready.” She climbed into bed, anxious for the oblivion of sleep to come. To escape from the pressing worries, if only for one night.

Bill reached for the TV remote, started pressing buttons, flipping through channels at near lightning speed. Maureen pinched her eyes shut tightly; Bill’s nightly ritual annoyed her (
How can he tell what’s on when he sees each channel for only a millisecond?
), but she kept her opinion to herself.

“This hypocrite thing? You really need to find out what Colleen’s thinking in relation to that.”

Maureen moved to the far edge of the king-sized bed, curled up into a ball. Her back to Bill. She tugged the blanket up to her chin, finding childish solace in the soft, satin edging.

“Maureen?”

“What?” Distanced, as though she were far, far away.

“For the family’s sake, make it a priority to spend time with Colleen tomorrow if you can, okay? I’ll be praying for you.” Bill flicked off the television and turned his back to her, settling in. “It’s that important, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Bill.”

“Oh, and hey, I’m really sorry about the bluebirds, too.”

Maureen unblinkingly stared out their bedroom window, following the light glow from the moon. It illuminated the lines of the windowpanes against the wall, framing the waving silhouetted fronds of a palm tree. She stared at the graceful, bowing dips of the shadows of the leaves until, out of her peripheral vision, she noticed a single star twinkling. When she tried to look at it directly, it appeared to vanish, eluding her. Looking away, she noted that it was indeed there, just out of her line of direct vision. And then Maureen closed her eyes, seeking the escape of sleep.

Maureen groggily woke to the sound of the shower running. She lifted her head up, glanced at the clock, and groaned.
Doesn’t it just figure?
she fumed to herself as she scurried out of tangled covers.
I toss and turn half the night, only to finally fall asleep about an hour before it’s time to wake up.
She’d been sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard the alarm, and Bill—
what was he thinking?
—hadn’t awakened her.

She quickly made the bed, replacing the numerous scattered pillows in their proper places. After a trip to the bathroom and a hastily mumbled “good morning” to Bill, Maureen hurried toward the kitchen where she was soothed by the aroma coming from the pre-timed coffee pot. She poured herself a cup and walked over to the same window she looked out every morning—to view the bluebird house. Running late or not, she would still indulge in her daily ritual: a few sips of coffee and a check on the box.
Still, nothing
.

Bobo rose from his bed in the family room and scampered to her feet, cocking his head up at her. She slid open the door and once again pushed out the reluctant dog.
Isn’t it appropriate that we have a dog who doesn’t even know what it wants to do?
she thought to herself, shaking her head.

The combination of oversleeping and the need for an earlier departure felt like a guarantee that this morning would be especially hectic. Soon enough, Colleen woke with her attitude still firmly pronounced, and even Aubrey, normally a morning-loving child, was whiny and petulant. After Maureen offered her several outfits, which Aubrey summarily dismissed, mom and daughter finally agreed on a totally inappropriate shorts set. White top, white shorts. It was a disaster waiting to happen, but Maureen was not up to form for battles this morning.