Bridge to a Distant Star

by Carolyn Williford

  Sounds of laughter reached their ears. A family out in the waves, jumping together when the water surged toward them. Sarah and Michal were distracted a few moments, vicariously enjoying the familial joy before them. Michal found it hard to switch from the scene of carefree laughter to the subject of constrictions placed on her by the chapel speaker. “Well, I guess I agree. I should, I think—or I need to. A friend of mine, Stephen—he’s really mature and very spiritual, Aunt Sarah; you’d like him—he thought Reverend Coleman was inspiring.”

  “Good for him. But what did you think?”

  The pleasing scene before her disappeared, and suddenly she was transported back to her home in Ethiopia, the unadorned little kitchen with plain wooden table and chairs. She stood at the sink wiping dishes while her mother washed. And she heard her mother’s words, repeating them as her own. “Daddy and Mom talked about their calling first. How that had to be absolute first priority in their lives. Only when they’d settled that with each other, did they agree it was okay to date.

  “Mom said she knew it would be a sin to allow herself to fall in love with someone who—” Michal looked over at Sarah then, expecting tacit agreement. But she was so startled by the haunting look on her aunt’s face that she lost track of what she was saying. Michal took in the grimness about Sarah’s usually broad, smiling mouth. The lack of life in those ever-animated eyes. All her features seemed to have … fallen. For the first time, Sarah looked old. “Aunt Sarah? What is it?” Michal reached over to touch her. “Are you okay?”

  Slowly, Sarah turned her head to look out toward the ocean again. “Let’s just say I think you should be more concerned about developing friendships with young men who are committed to seeking God’s will for their lives—whatever that may be.”

  Allistair’s words echoed in her mind, nearly exact duplicates of her aunt’s. I think what’s important is that I’m seeking his will for my life, he’d said. Momentarily, Michal was back at school, sitting on the bench with Allistair. And she felt compelled to ask another question, one that—since that night—had never been far from her conscious thoughts. “Aunt Sarah, do you think it’s more spiritual to ask God to send me to the mission field? Isn’t being a foreign missionary the highest calling there is?”

  Sarah was quiet for so long Michal thought she hadn’t heard, and was about to repeat her question when her aunt sighed, as though letting go of a great weight. Michal watched her profile—the narrowing of her eyes, the continued downward turn of her mouth. She absentmindedly ran a hand through her still-wet hair. “You’ll have to find that answer on your own, dear girl.” And then she turned toward Michal with a mischievous smile that caught her off guard. “We’ve been entirely too serious for far too long. I say we hit the boards again. You game?”

  Michal grinned. “Let’s do it.”

  For the remainder of the afternoon, they focused on the exhilaration of catching a wave at the exact right moment—just before it peaked—to experience the longest ride possible. Balancing themselves on their boards while the waves pulsed beneath them. Riding all the way to the shore, coasting up onto the sand, fists pumped up into the air. Celebrating success.

  Eventually their energy waned, suits became itchy with freeloading sand, and the scrapes and bruises were too sore to ignore any longer. Gathering clouds brought a cool breeze. It was time to stop—for the day, at least. By mutual agreement, however, they declared the boogie boards a very wise investment, promising each other the “boogie board broads” would return another day.

  They ordered pizza from a small Italian restaurant and downed it like rescued castaways. When asked about the possibility of ice cream for dessert, Michal was about to decline when Sarah added, “Before you make up your mind, you should know it’s chocolate with chocolate chips.”

  Michal’s face lit up. “Oh, I can’t turn that down.” She watched Sarah scoop a generous amount into both bowls. “Beth says chocolate’s one of the main food groups.”

  “Your roommate is very wise.”

  “Aunt Sarah?” By Michal’s tone of voice, Sarah could tell she was wading into a more serious topic again.

  “Uh-huh?” She plopped dollops of whipped cream on top.

  “About the chapel speaker.”

  “Yeah …”

  “I’ve been thinking. He also mentioned that all missionaries should be willing to send their kids off to boarding school. And if we weren’t willing to, we weren’t putting Jesus first in our lives. I’m curious what you think about that.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  Michal spooned a big bite of ice cream into her mouth, savoring the chocolate. She could tell that Sarah seemed to be following a pattern: allowing Michal to come to her own conclusions. She was grateful for Sarah’s approach—realizing it was challenging her—but Michal also felt the slightest frustration. She just wanted answers.

  “Well,” she tried, “boarding school’s not so bad. If I needed to do it for where God’s called me …”

  Sarah was ready to put another spoonful in her mouth but stopped, the spoon held in midair. She gave Michal a look full of compassion. “I’ve heard you havin’ nightmares, Michal.” She put down the spoon and took Michal’s hand between her own. “I know it wasn’t easy for you. Does it help to know it was hard for me, too?”

  Michal’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Daddy never said a word … I just assumed … and I’ve never told anyone about …”

  “Your dad didn’t have an easy time of it either. None of us did.” She watched as a single tear rolled down each of Michal’s cheeks. “Why haven’t you told anyone of your nightmares, Michal? That’s the only way to take away their power over you—to talk it out with someone. Know why I know that’s true?”

  Michal shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “’Cause I talked with a counselor who helped me work through some difficult times in my life.” She let go of Michal’s hand and reached for her spoon, encouraging Michal to do the same. “I want you to know that I begged Michael and Hannah to bring you back to them. Or to let you come live with me here in the States if they couldn’t …” She let her voice trail off, shaking her head in exasperation.

  Astonished, Michal asked, “You did? You actually asked Daddy and Mom that?”

  Sarah nodded. “I had to just … let it go. Though I doubled and tripled my prayers for you.”

  Michal concentrated on the bowl before her, furiously stirring the ice cream and whipped cream together. “I would’ve loved living with you.”

  Sarah grinned. “Just think how much trouble we could’ve gotten into all those years.” Serious again, Sarah added, “It clearly wasn’t meant to be. And though I disagreed with your parents, please hear this—because it is the truth. Your parents love you desperately. They did what they thought was right. Which is what we all do.” She shook her head. “Hindsight wisdom is way too easy. The tormenting ‘I should haves’ can drive you crazy. So you move on. Hopefully learning something along the way.”

  “So we don’t make the same mistakes over again? Like me trying to decide who I should date?”

  “I know you’ll make the right decision, Michal.” Sarah idly scraped the bottom of her bowl with a finger, getting the very last puddle of melted ice cream. Michal watched with amusement. “You know, sometimes I wonder if God cares more about our process to make a decision than he does the decision itself.” She popped the finger into her mouth. “Unless you have any other deep theological topics of discussion, shall we change course and see what’s on TV tonight?”

  Michal grinned. “Absolutely.”

  Sarah pointed to Michal’s bowl. “Then make sure you get every remaining drop of ice cream and let’s get at it, shall we?”

  The nightmare came again that evening, but it seemed to last all night long, with scenes unfolding like a
cts in a play. Saying good-bye. Boarding school. Administrators blaming Michal for being so miserable. The nausea flushed over her, and her eyes opened wide.

  Why did I think the nightmares wouldn’t follow me here? She allowed tears to come. Until I settle this completely—either I’m going back to Ethiopia, or I’m not—I’m not going to have any peace in my heart. Or peace from these nightmares.

  By the time she joined Sarah for breakfast, Michal had washed away any evidence of tears, greeting her with a cheery, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Michal. Sleep well?”

  Michal’s only answer was to reach for her aunt, giving her a hug. Sarah had been holding a cup of hot tea, but she instantly put it down, giving Michal her full attention.

  “Another nightmare?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sarah tightened her hold on Michal.

  Later, after settling in at the beach, Michal and Sarah were only slightly disappointed to find the waves quite tame. So after lunch, they happily settled in the sand to read, followed by naps. The ease of that afternoon reminded Michal of floating on a raft on a gentle creek. They returned home to shower and change for dinner at a seafood restaurant and a walk on the beach at dusk.

  Upon reaching the sand, both slipped off sandals, allowing their feet to luxuriate in its cool softness.

  They strolled along, Michal next to the shore, her feet almost constantly in the soothing water. Sarah beside her, an exuberant wave sometimes bathing her feet too. Every once in a while one of them would lean over to inspect a shell. If deemed worthy, it was shown to the other, shoved into a pocket for safekeeping. The next week—long after Michal had removed the collected shells—she would reach into that pocket to search for a tissue. And find grains of sand there.

  Sarah spoke into the sound of the waves hitting the shore, her voice matching the calm rhythm of the sea. “I need to speak with you about something, Michal.”

  Instantly attuned to her aunt’s serious tone, Michal stopped, cringing inwardly. “Did I do something—”

  “No, no. This is about me. Something that I’ve never told you.” Sarah took a deep breath. “Something you deserve to hear.” She began walking slowly again, and Michal matched her pace.

  “Your questions have … have been hard because they’ve struck so close to my heart.” Sarah glanced over at Michal, a surprising shyness about her now. “I’d just finished a master’s degree when I fell in love. Oh, my. I was so in love.”

  Michal looked at her with wonder. “Who was he?”

  “Oh, his name doesn’t matter, since it was a stuffy family name, one he was really kind of embarrassed by. But from the moment I first met him, I called him CK.” Sarah smiled, wistfully.

  “Was he handsome?”

  “Oh, my, was he ever. Tall, head full of dark curls, one of those jaws like Kirk Douglas.” To Michal’s blank look, she said, “Of course you wouldn’t know him. Well … CK was incredibly handsome. Take my word for it, okay?”

  “What was he like? Did he make you laugh?”

  Sarah dug a big toe into a pile of shells, drawing out the story. Clearly enjoying Michal’s intense interest. “He was … he was a man of such integrity, an attorney. A prosecutor. I’d go to court just to watch him.” She sought Michal’s eyes then, for hers were lit with a glow—the glow of love that was still there, after all these years, Michal realized. “And yes, how he could made me laugh. Like the time he tripped and fell into a mud puddle. And then just sat there, splashing like a child, saying, ‘Might as well enjoy it since I’m already a drenched mess.’” Sarah laughed out loud at the memory, and Michal laughed right along with her.

  “But I fell in love with his heart, Michal—his heart for God, for people. For his son.”

  “His son?”

  “CK’s first wife died in childbirth. When I first met them his son was ten, and then later, after we married … well, I’ll never forget the first time he called me mom …” Sarah’s voice broke, and she stopped.

  “What happened, Aunt Sarah? Did something happen to them?” Unconsciously, Michal’s entire body tensed as they stopped walking, and she held her breath.

  Sarah cupped a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the setting sun reflecting off the ocean. “You know how it hurts to look at a sunset like this? And yet at the same time … you want to look because it’s so glorious? And so you do, even though it’s painful?” Sarah turned her gaze to Michal, and Michal saw that her eyes were filling with glistening tears. Tears also reflecting the brilliant glow off the water. “That’s how my memories are, Michal. They’re glorious and painful in the exact same moment.” She swallowed, and Michal saw tears run down her freckled cheeks.

  “We’d only been married six months—six wonderfully happy months—when CK got cancer. And in three months … he was gone. I was convinced it was all my fault. Because I hadn’t obeyed God and gone to Ethiopia, like your grandmother and grandfather said I should have. See … I was planning to go when I met CK. Even had my plane ticket. And then … everything changed. He had an established career. And a young boy—a boy who I couldn’t even think of sending to boarding school. I had no right to inflict that on him.

  “So when CK died … I thought it was God punishing me, taking him like that, and so I … I just left CK’s son, thinking—irrationally—that was best for him. I wanted to get away from him, before he suffered for my sin too. And so I went to Ethiopia.” She hastily wiped the tears away. Closed her eyes and then took a deep breath before looking into Michal’s eyes.

  “I’d never planned to tell you any of this, Michal. I guess mostly because of my foolish pride, maybe. I don’t know. But from your questions these last couple of days, I realized how much you needed to hear my story. Because I went to Ethiopia out of guilt, Michal. Guilt and hurt and despair. And cowardice—I can’t leave out that. Going for those reasons was—” she shook her head vehemently, “—it was all wrong. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t sleep or eat or do anything—not even love those dear people. Because I hated myself. All I knew was anger in those miserable days. And you know who else I was angry at?”

  Michal shook her head.

  “God. Oh, yes, I was angry at him, all right. For ruining my life. How I blamed him for everything that had gone so horribly wrong.”

  Michal sucked in her breath. She’d never heard anyone hint at such a sin, let alone say it out loud. Unconsciously, she took a step backward. And immediately, Sarah took a step toward her.

  “So I tried to run from life again, Michal. Came back home, to the States. Where a godly counselor finally helped me find forgiveness and grace from a loving God. A God who slowly put my crumbled heart back together. And I made a vow, Michal, a vow that I keep to this day.” Sarah made a fist, holding it out in front of her. “If I couldn’t be in Ethiopia—because I eventually came to the conviction that I never was called to live there—then I would do all I could to send support to my family.”

  Sarah turned away then, appearing exhausted as her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her story. Suddenly she sat down on the wet sand, motioning for Michal to join her. They both simply sat there, staring out at the waves rolling in, listening to the calming effects of the surf.

  Michal ventured into the silence, offering softly, “Daddy says you send … a lot. I can tell he’s pleased about that.”

  Sarah drew her finger across the sand. Writing MICHAL there. Michal began doodling too, beginning with STE.

  “Michal, we all bear the scars of pain. Some are more obvious than others, but none of us gets through life without collecting a fair share. Your folks included.” Michal stopped writing, her finger poised. “Those things they said to you—the reasons they wanted you to stop crying about going to boarding school? They were repeating the very same lines they’d heard when they were children.

 
“You see, hearing you cry brought back memories of their own pain. And then they just hurt all the more, knowing your suffering personally like they did. And the more you fought going, the greater their hurt. So in desperation, they threw out whatever would hopefully just make the pain stop. They never meant to be cruel, Michal. Never.” Sarah reached over to put her hand on top of Michal’s, where she tenderly rubbed the soft skin.

  “Don’t make a decision about returning to Ethiopia out of guilt or expectation, Michal. And don’t run there in an attempt to escape from life—like I did. If you seek God, he will reveal his call for you. In his time. In his way.” She reached up to smooth a stray curl from Michal’s cheek. Tucked it behind an ear. “Can you trust in that?”

  “Uh-huh. I think so.”

  “We’d best get back. Going to be dark soon.”

  Reluctantly, Michal followed Sarah’s lead as they headed back toward the car. “A friend of mine used to say that a walk on the beach is never long enough,” Sarah mused. “She was so right.”

  Typical of holidays, the remainder of the week flew by all too quickly for Michal. She and Sarah enjoyed doing whatever struck their fancy on any particular day. They spent more time on their boogie boards, but they also shopped at quaint little stores along the beach. They visited Sanibel Island to look for better shells, and browsed the farmer’s market. And they spent a couple afternoons simply going on road trips—Sarah allowing Michal to drive the Corvette.

  Though Sarah had gently probed about the young men in her life, Michal evaded the topic. Just the slightest mental drifting back to school instantly brought the images of Allistair and Stephen clearly to mind, making her stomach tighten in a knot. She felt near panic when she tried to understand her feelings toward either of the two, and any memories of the kiss produced a shiver that traveled down her spine.