Bridge to a Distant Star (39 page)

The captain nodded in agreement. “Just one more thing.” Smiling, he peered into Aubrey's face and reached out to run a hand gently down her head, over the tangled mass of curls. “You're Aubrey, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Never taking wary eyes off him. Nor relaxing her hold on Fran in the slightest.

“What's your last name, sweetheart? Do you know that?”

Insulted, she curtly replied, “'Course I do. It's Roberts.”

Captain Howard replied in an “A-ha” tone. “So you're Aubrey Roberts. Am I right?”

Aubrey nodded her head yes. After acknowledging her response with a complimentary “Good,” the captain glanced back over at the doctor, his mouth set in a grim line and a crease between his brows. “Hmm. The crew from the freighter indicated she was crying out, ‘Mommy.'” He scratched his head, fluffing the ring of white. “None of this adds up.”

“The angel tooked my mommy. And Rabbit,” Aubrey interjected, exasperated. “I cried—” Aubrey paused a moment, shaking the curls, “—the angel said it was okay to cry. But then he tooked me to her,” pointing a finger toward Fran's chest. “'Cause she has Mommy's eyes.” Aubrey snuggled against Fran, a look of self-satisfaction blanketing her features.

“Oh. Well, then.” Baffled, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Captain Howard looked to Fran and then Michal for a plausible translation of Aubrey's story. But the expressions on both their faces showed they were equally nonplussed. Fran, wiping at her nose with a tissue, shook her head again—recalling too late the consequence would be pain. “Ouch. I'm sorry, I don't …” She put a hand to her head, gingerly feeling the bandage there. “I'm sorry, but I don't know what she's talking about because frankly, I can't remember anything.”

“Not unexpected with a concussion,” the doctor interjected.

And then nearly in complete unison, they all turned to Michal.

But Michal shook her head too, shrugging. “I remember hanging onto the latch of the escape door at the back of the bus.”

“That explains the bruises on your hands.”

“You were on that bus?” the captain asked, incredulously.

“Yes, in the very back. And I must've … must've gotten the door open, I guess? Honestly, like Fran, I also don't remember anything after clutching onto that handle. It's a total blank.”

The doctor signaled for the captain to wrap up the questioning, but before he could stand, Michal grabbed his arm. “My aunt. Would you please call my aunt? Sarah McHenry. She lives in Fort Myers, but I don't know her phone number.”

“Don't worry about a thing, miss. We'll find out and contact her straight away. For all three of you, we'll locate family and make those calls as soon as possible.”

Glancing toward Aubrey, he noted her eyes fluttering closed. Michal was also fighting sleep, and Fran looked as though she could drop off at any moment. Captain Howard knelt there, spellbound, simply watching them. Thinking to himself,
These are miracles indeed. Two women and a small child. How on earth did they … how could they possibly …?

He waited to make sure his charges were resting comfortably. Listened for the soft sounds of sleep, and left them to the doctor's care.

Several hours later, Fran woke. Allowing her gaze to wander, she realized she was in a hospital room. After taking in the metal cart at the foot of her bed and the IV still embedded in her arm, she turned to her left. A man and a teenage girl sat in chairs by the window.

The man glanced up, noted Fran had awakened, and instantly stood. “Colleen, go get the nurse, will you?” Fran watched her leave the room and then shifted her gaze back to the man—now standing next to her. “I'm Bill. And you're Fran? You're certainly due an explanation why I'm here in your room, first of all.” He gestured toward Aubrey, who was still sound asleep and cuddled next to Fran, her fists tightly clutching Fran's gown. “Aubrey's my daughter. And at this point, she clearly doesn't intend to let go of you.” He smiled, revealing a devotion to the little girl and a boyish charm in his grin.

Just then, the sun broke through a bank of clouds, pouring a ray of bright light through the window which highlighted Fran's face. She winced at the glare, immediately shielding her eyes. But she heard Bill's intake of breath, and before he turned to pull down the blinds, she caught the look of astonishment mixed with deep pain etched on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Fran asked.

He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at the floor. “I'm sorry. It's just that … you have the same unusual eyes as my wife does … did. Same color. And those dark flecks, like glistening gold, I used to tell her. It was like she …” Fran watched him swipe at the wetness on his cheek. “I'm not usually so emo—” He turned away, embarrassed by his weeping.

While sleep had been a temporary escape, Fran felt again the full impact of the knifelike ache for her family. Subconsciously, she tightened her hold on Aubrey. “Neither am I. But we don't usually have to deal with this type of loss, do we?” she said softly.

Bill shook his head. When he turned to her, his eyes were still glistening, his cheeks coated with tears. “Your husband—?”

“Yes. And my—son.” Her voice broke, saying it out loud, making the truth too real. She closed her eyes and held her breath a moment, an attempt to stem the uncontrollable sobs for her precious son.

Fran's eyes still closed, Bill began to speak again. “My wife Maureen and I had this uncanny discussion just before she … just before she left for Sanibel.” He shook his head, a look of wide-eyed disbelief on his face. Wiping at more escaping tears, he choked out, “We were talking about being alone. That being alone is different from being lonely. And that being left isn't as frightening in the bridge of—”

“—
God's love,
” they both finished in unison.

Their expressions exactly mirrored each other's: mouths open in shock, eyes still glistening with tears. An aura of complete awe.

The nurse nearly flew into the room, an anxious Colleen following at her heels.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Thomason? Head hurt still?”

Fran shook her head—partly in answer to the nurse's question, but mostly to shake herself as if waking from a dream.

The nurse took Fran's blood pressure and pulse, busying herself with the IV and monitors. “Little one still sleeping? Best to let her wake up on her own, I'm thinking.” She made a point of making eye contact with Bill. “The doctor will be in soon. He gave strict orders you weren't to face the crowd outside until he'd seen you first.” She stood momentarily with hands on her hips, the only time she wasn't a mass of frenetic energy. “Sit tight. He'll be here in a jiffy.” And with that, she was gone, racing out as fast as she'd flown in.

“Crowd? What's—?”

Bill coughed and then cleared his throat. “Reporters. Must be dozens.” The sudden switch back to reality felt jarring. He handed a tissue to Fran and then used one to wipe his own face. “They've been anxiously waiting to interview you and Miss McHenry for some time. Tried to bully their way in at one point, but the Coast Guard posted some men outside the wing. No one's getting past those burly guys, that's for sure.”

“Your eyes are just like my mom's,” Colleen whispered.

Bill put his arm protectively around her. “This is Colleen, my older daughter.”

“I'm so sorry about your mom,” Fran said.

“I don't know how we'll ever thank you for taking such good care of Aubrey.” Bill reached out to lightly put his other hand on Aubrey's back. He could feel her breathing slightly against his hand, the proof he needed that she was alive.

Fran shook her head. “Besides holding her head above water—the waves were frighteningly high—well, I don't recall doing anything. Michal—I think that's her name, but maybe I got it wrong—she was a big help too. She's a strong swimmer.”

Colleen continued to stare at Fran as though mesmerized by her. “Michal is her name. I met her aunt outside,” Colleen said. “Did you, um … did you see my mom?”

“I'm so sorry, Colleen. No, I didn't.”

Aubrey stirred. When her eyes fully opened and focused on Bill, she smiled. Let go of Fran. And stretched out her arms longingly to him.

Bill gathered her into his arms, where he rocked her back and forth, more silent tears falling down his cheeks. When Colleen put her arms around Bill's waist, he leaned down so he could hug both girls tightly to his chest.

“Daddy … Daddy.” Aubrey put a hand on Bill's cheek, demanding his attention.

“Yes, Lolly Pops?”

“The angel told me she would love me.” She pointed to Fran. “And she'd love you and Collie, too.”

Bill stared at her, momentarily speechless. “Aubrey, you shouldn't—”

Someone rapped on the door and then a woman peered in. “I'm so sorry to interrupt. But could my niece and I please come in for a few moments? We need to face these reporters soon, and Michal's just … well, she tells me she needs to speak with you all. Is that all right?”

Bill looked to Fran, who nodded. “Please. Come in and join us.”

After introductions, Bill motioned to chairs for Sarah and Michal. Sarah insisted she'd stand, so only Michal sat down, IV pole in tow. Michal turned to Fran, biting her lip. “I barely remember our rescue. The Coast Guard ship. The captain asking questions. Honestly, it's all kind of fuzzy. But I have this vague recollection of Aubrey saying … well, something kind of … strange? About angels?”

“Just one.” Aubrey corrected her. “He tooked my mommy. And Rabbit, too—to keep Mommy comp'ny,” she said as an aside to Bill. “And then he tooked me to her,” pointing yet again at Fran, who couldn't help grinning back. “See, she has Mommy's eyes,” Aubrey stated to Sarah and Michal, dramatically.

“Well, then. That explains it.” Michal said smugly, leaning back and crossing arms over her chest. When she started to giggle, everyone in the room joined in to laugh with her.

Except Aubrey, who turned back to Bill with a pronounced pout. “Don't they believe me, Daddy?”

“Sweetheart, Mrs. Thomason, Michal, and you—the fact that you're here, with us—that's a miracle. No one is going to disagree with that.”

Apparently satisfied, Aubrey hugged him again.

Suddenly fidgeting, smoothing her blouse and picking at a nonexistent piece of lint, Sarah asked Fran, “Did I hear correctly? Thomason is your last name?”

“Yes, my husband … I'm sorry, this is difficult … my husband was Charles Thomason Junior. Obviously his dad was a Charles, too. And we passed the name onto our son, Charlie.”

Sarah just stared at Fran for an awkward moment. Then she calmly said, “Bill, I think I'll take the offer for a chair now and sit down. If that's okay.”

Michal watched the freckles on Sarah's face begin to stand out, growing darker and more pronounced.
That's odd,
she thought.
Or is it that the skin behind them is turning lighter?
Alarmed, she asked, “Aunt Sarah, are you okay?”

But Sarah was solely focused on Fran. “I don't mean to pry, and this might seem random, but could you tell me please, did your father-in-law die of cancer when his son was eleven years old?”

Fran gasped. “Oh my. You're
that
Sarah?” she whispered.

Michal looked from Fran to Sarah, understanding dawning. “Charles Thomason. He's CK?” she asked. But Sarah had slumped over, putting her head in her hands.

“Sarah,” Fran said, but Sarah didn't move, her face still resting in the palms of her shaking hands. “Sarah, please. Take my hand. It's okay—Charles and I talked about you, and he understood. You must've been hurting deeply too.” Sarah looked up then, and her eyes were red-rimmed, wet. She reached out and took the offered hand between hers. “Sarah, this is … yet another miraculous gift.” Fran's voice grew husky. “I can't tell you what this … you're a godsend to me right now! Can't you see you're a connection to Charles? Later, when we have time, I want you to tell me all you can remember about him. Everything—every detail. And Charles's dad—CK I think you called him? I want to hear—”

There was a tap from outside, followed by the doctor's abrupt entrance. “I see our patients are awake now.” If he noticed the emotional weight hanging in the room, he didn't show it, for he immediately proceeded to examine Fran, introducing himself as Dr. Holms. “How you feeling? You do have a slight concussion, by the way.”

Bill placed Aubrey on the bed so she could be quickly checked over also. The doctor tilted the little girl's chin up. Smiled as he peered into the bright eyes. “Hardly a scratch on you anywhere, little one. How did you manage that?” Then he gave Michal a quick perusal, pronouncing her nearly perfect too, except for the deep bruising on her hands. “You know, I can't say that I'm a religious person. But something or someone protected you three. Something bigger than any of us, that's for sure.” He stood still for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Okay. Ready for the onslaught? They've been pacing the hallways like vultures.”