Bridge to a Distant Star (7 page)

Bill pulled Maureen into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. “Tell me this is just a rumor.”

“It’s no rumor, Bill. I saw Emilie at lunch.” Her voice sounded far away to her ears, as though it were someone else speaking. “Ed’s already hired a lawyer.”

Bill sat on the bed, staring at the floor. When he finally looked up at Maureen, he appeared stricken. “I can’t … this can’t be true.” Holding his arms wide, Bill pulled her into his embrace, where they clung to each other. Mumbling angrily, he choked out, “I just want to … to punch him. Beat some sense into him.”

He started pulling off his tie, continuing to mutter to himself, and Maureen got up and leaned against the dresser. She wrapped her arms around her torso, as though hugging herself. She stared down at the carpet and the familiar pattern of roses and vines.

“Ed’ll eventually come to his senses, Mo. I’ve got to believe that.” He poked his head out of the closet, attempting to make eye contact. “But honestly, even if it does happen—a divorce, I mean—God will take care of Emilie and the kids. They won’t be the first couple we’ve known to divorce. And not the first in your group of friends. Sherry’s doing okay, isn’t she?”

“Sherry doesn’t have four children, Bill.”

“But they’re all believers now, aren’t they? Even the youngest?” Bill disappeared back into the closet again.

Maureen was surprised by the retort that flitted across her own mind.
Like that guarantees they’ll all live happily ever after?

“Maureen?”

“I want you to tell me that we’ll be okay,” Maureen said softly, wistfully, as she traced the pattern of the carpet with her bare toes.

Bill hadn’t heard, but she could hear the sounds of his pulling on jeans. When he came out again, he asked, “Did you speak with Colleen?”

Maureen slowly shook her head. “I couldn’t bring it up in the car, with Aubrey there. And then Colleen’s been busy with homework ever since we got home.”

He shot her a look.

“I can’t talk about Colleen now. All this with Emilie and Ed has made me feel so … insecure.” Staring down at the carpet still, afraid to meet his eyes. Calmly, flatly, she stated, “I want to see a counselor.” After she spoke the words, she recognized the familiar yet odd sensation of feeling detached, as though hearing her own voice from a distance.

Bill scoffed. “Where on earth did that come from? If you’re feeling a little insecure then—”

“Actually, I didn’t say a little. I feel … shattered, Bill. I don’t understand why, but it feels like every single area of my life is falling apart into these tiny little pieces. I’m trying to grab at them and collect them up, but I can’t because they’re falling everywhere. They keep slipping through my fingers, away from my grasp.”

“Look, just because Emilie and Ed might be getting a divorce, that doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

“No?” Her voice rose in inflection. “Emilie was clueless, but Eddie knew about his dad’s affair? A month ago. Well, Colleen is certainly picking up something that—”

“Maureen. That’s enough. If you’re insinuating that I’m having an affair, then you do need to see a counselor because you’re—”

“Hallucinating and probably losing my mind. I know that. And I know you’re not having an affair, Bill.” She chuckled. “It’s me. I admit it. I’m clueless. I don’t know who Ed Esteban is, obviously. I clearly don’t know my own daughter either.”

Maureen paused, caught the motion of Bill’s clenching and unclenching jaw. He stood before the window and stared out, back perfectly straight, hands on hips.

“Most of all,” she whispered, “I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe I never knew. But I think it’s time I found out.”

Maureen stood up and reached for the door, but Bill grabbed her arm, restraining her. “Look, we’ll talk about this later, okay?” His tone was soothing, patronizing. “No one in my family has ever seen a counselor. We’re not going to start that sort of thing now. Maureen, there’s nothing here that the two of us can’t work out together.”

She looked up into his eyes. Noted the firm set of his chin. His unblinking stare. But she said nothing.

“Okay, how about this? How about if you talk with Pastor Johnson? I bet he could tell you how to help Emilie—tell you how to organize meals or something. Whatever. And that would make you feel better, wouldn’t it?”

“You think making food is going to solve this for Emilie? And what about Colleen? You and me? What about my feelings, Bill?”

“Aren’t we being just a tad overdramatic? Good grief, I’ll talk with Colleen. We’ll work this out, for cryin’ out loud.” He pulled her into his arms again, rubbed her back. “Look, honey. We’re going through a tough time. We’ve got a—I’ll admit it—a teen with a capital
A
attitude. Our friends are in crisis. And it’s putting you and me on edge.” Once again he pushed her away from him so he could look into her eyes. “But we’ll get through this, okay? I promise you. We don’t need a stranger meddling in our … our lives. Okay?”

Maureen sighed. Nodded her head, acquiescing.

“Also, since I’m an elder at church and—”

“Ironically, so is Ed.”

He ignored the comment, continued, “If you were to go see a counselor, well, can’t you see how this would play out before the community? On the heels of Ed and Emilie? You know how that would look.”

“My understanding is that a professional counselor would never reveal confidences. Isn’t that a legal requirement?”

Bill sighed, shifted his gaze away before admitting, “Yes. But you know this area of town, Mo. Someone might see you going and then—”

“So now we get to the issue.”

“Maureen, that’s not fair.”

“It’s just like Colleen said. She accused me of fretting about my image, and now it’s come back to me full circle, hasn’t it? Guess I deserved this.”

“I’m just asking you to consider how this will affect all four of us. Isn’t this a rather selfish desire on your part? You’re already gone two mornings a week in the shop. You’re busy with church. When do you have time for sessions with a counselor?”

Maureen rubbed her eyes, pushed away from him. “I need to get dinner going.”

“I thought we were making a decision here?”

Her eyes bored into his for only a split second. “You’re right that I just don’t have the time, Bill.”

“So we’ll work this out—just us, together?”

“We’ll work it out.”

It was yet another evening of Colleen’s self-imposed silence, but in a strange way, Maureen welcomed it. Reading and praying with both girls took the last bit of energy she had at her disposal, and she fell asleep minutes after she’d collapsed into bed, not even hearing the annoying click of the remote.

Only to awaken at 1:17 a.m. Instantly, wide awake.

One thought after another bullied for priority in her mind. She worried about Colleen, and what they were to do. How to handle her in a way that wouldn’t push her further away from them.
And where is she spiritually?
Maureen’s heart wondered. Her worries then turned to Emilie. In their bed—by herself. Maureen was tempted to cuddle up to Bill’s back for the sense of security he would instantly provide, but she couldn’t lie still long, was afraid she’d only awaken him also. There was certainly no sense in both of them worrying needlessly at this hour.

When she was convinced a good amount of time had passed, she looked up at the clock. 1:35. Sighing, she knew there was no hope of drifting back to sleep.

Maureen gently lifted the covers and eased out of bed. She was slipping into her robe when Bill’s voice startled her.

“What’re you doing?” he mumbled.

“Can’t sleep. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, okay?” She padded out of the room, barefoot, and closed the door gently behind her. For a moment, Maureen stood at the door and listened. Not hearing any further movement from Bill, she assumed he’d drifted off again.

Typical man,
she fumed to herself.
No matter what worrisome events are happening, he can sleep like the dead.

Maureen paused at Aubrey’s door. It was wide open, the nightlight in the corner casting a soft glow against the light lavender walls. She couldn’t resist the urge to stand there a moment, watching. One arm was thrown casually up over the pillow, the dimpled fingers open, relaxed. Her other hand held Rabbit, tucking the worn toy under her chin.

Walking farther down the hallway to Colleen’s room, Maureen stopped at the closed door and put her hand on the doorknob. She hesitated, debating. Finally she turned it, hoping to find it wasn’t locked against her. The knob easily moved in her hand.

While Aubrey’s positioning had conveyed peaceful sleep, Colleen’s was the exact opposite. Feeling heartache for her daughter, Maureen took in how the covers had been completely tossed aside, the arms that were tensed, both fists clenched. Knees drawn up to her chin in fetal position. A frown drew Colleen’s mouth downward, a deep line creased between her delicate brows. Unhappiness was sleeping there with her.

Maureen pushed the door open a bit farther, and slipped into the room. Knelt by Colleen’s bed where she poured out her heart to God—silently moving her lips, but sometimes falling into whispers in her urgency. She pleaded with God for her daughter’s heart, begging him to forgive her for how she’d failed Colleen. For her hypocrisy and weaknesses and how she hadn’t been the example she desired to be.

Tears had wet her cheeks when she felt a faint touch on her arm. Opening her eyes, it took a moment of adjusting to the dim light from the moon before she saw her daughter staring back at her. Colleen bit her lip, and then blurted out, “
Mom?
”

“Oh, Colleen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you did, ’cause I was having a nightmare.” She wiped at her nose and then rubbed her eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was. But I know I was really afraid and then—then I heard you.” Colleen paused a moment, and noticeably shivered. “Mom, I’ve felt so
awful
lately.”

“You’re cold. We’d better get you back under the covers, sweetie.” Colleen allowed Maureen to tuck her in, easing her back onto her pillow and pulling up rumpled sheets and bedspread. Maureen took her time, relishing the moment of peace between them, and then she sat next to her daughter, leaning forward with a hand on either side of Colleen. “Now. You’ve felt awful, how? Are you sick?” Maureen reached toward her forehead to check for a temperature, but Colleen shook her head, dodging.

“No … no, it’s not that. It’s other stuff.” She hesitated and then blurted out, “Mr. and Mrs. Esteban. Are they … are they gonna be okay?”

Maureen leaned back, and sighed. How she wished she could tell her daughter everything would be fine. And that the “good” she hoped to come from all this would protect Colleen from the tentacles of pain that were reaching out, threatening all who knew Emilie. “I don’t know, sweetie. I just don’t know. I do know this, though. That God is still God. He wasn’t surprised by this—like we all were. And he’s still in control, even though it might not seem like it right now.”

“When I heard you talking with Miss Mann—”

“What on earth
did
you overhear, Colleen? I have no idea what—”

Colleen rushed on, anxious to get it all out now, under the protection of the dark room. “It was a verse from Matthew something, the one about ‘denying yourself and following me.’ You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, I remember discussing that.”

“Miss Mann was talking loud enough for me to hear.”

Maureen smiled. “I remember she was a bit intense. She’d heard a preacher, someone on the radio, I think. Sherry can get pretty excited.”

“She was saying that verse didn’t mean you have to be a doormat.” Colleen bit her lip again. “Mom, don’t take this bad. But sometimes you—”

“What?” Maureen leaned away from Colleen, instinctively braced herself.

“You started using this tone.” She grimaced. “It’s like you’re that icky computerized voice the doctor’s office uses. You know, the one they put on your answering machine to remind you about an appointment? It’s so totally fake.”

Maureen could feel the tension creeping back to claim her again. “Colleen, that’s not—”

“And then you said … you said something like ‘a wife should be a servant,’ and ‘we’re supposed to deny ourselves for our family.’” She frowned again. “In that
voice.
”

Unsure of what Colleen was accusing, Maureen offered, “Well, that’s true.”

Colleen’s eyes flew wide open. “
That’s it—
that’s the voice, Mom.”

Maureen’s head flinched as though she’d been splashed with ice water, and she felt a stab of pain in her neck from the reflexive action. Irritably, she returned, “But that’s what the Bible says, Colleen. And well, that’s the way it should be.” She reached up to rub the base of her neck.

“But Mom. There’s gotta be a difference between serving. And being a doormat. ’Cause Eddie and I think his mom—”

“Colleen. You and Eddie have no right to … Eddie especially, nor you … you’re not being respectful. And Miss Mann wasn’t saying that … she wasn’t even talking about Mrs. Esteban.” Maureen stood suddenly, fussing with the covers, retucking the sheet into hospital corners. “You need to get back to sleep or … or you’ll be sick tomorrow.”