Bridge to a Distant Star

by Carolyn Williford

  After that morning, Michal saw Allistair often—going into chapel. In the bleachers at basketball games Michal attended, supposedly to see the games. In reality, hoping to bump into Allistair. And she observed him in the dining hall at nearly every meal. But he was generally with other seniors, Tiffany included. He’d wave pleasantly at her when they caught each other’s eyes, for he frequently seemed to be present in the circle of her radar—in her peripheral vision. He’d even offer a friendly, “Hey, Michal,” when they passed in the hallways. But every encounter—from the briefest glimpse at a distance to the exchange of “Heys” in the hall—brought another stab to her heart. And the recognition that God had sent her at least one answer: Allistair had moved on.

  Stephen, however, seemed to pop up nearly everywhere, though with no regularity or rhyme or reason. Michal, always caught off guard when he appeared, would offer a jolted “Oh, Stephen” type of response whenever he fell into step beside her. Strangely, he didn’t ask her to study with him. Or to meet at any specific times or places, except for the evenings he’d show up in the lounge.

  The two of them never developed what felt like normal and easy communication patterns—at least, not from Michal’s vantage point. Instead, they shared an awkward and disjointed “How’s it going?” … “Got a quiz tomorrow in New Testament” … “Chapel was so amazing today” communication style. More like a DVD when there’s a problem with the disk: The scene’s interrupted, and the digital picture breaks up into spastic squares. Michal’s attempts at communicating with Stephen left her feeling exactly the same way. Jolted and interrupted, spastic even. And frustrated.

  She couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was missing something—but not like losing an object. It was more like someone abruptly changing the subject with no transition, jumping to another topic so quickly she was left feeling puzzled, wondering, What? What are you saying? Or when a book’s missing a page, so the storyline doesn’t fit together. So she’d argue and reason with herself, trying to banish the confusing, negative feelings. Listing reasons why God had worked it out this way, seeking proof of order and logic to her life. Ultimately, that it was right to be seeing Stephen.

  But always there was the problem of Stephen’s kisses—the confusing feelings they aroused. Stephen assured her repeatedly that he prayed about the two of them: about his need to learn to be intimate, how Michal was helping him. That God was answering his prayers for closeness. According to Stephen, their kissing was actually spiritual in nature.

  Michal’s thoughts and feelings on the matter, however, were pure bedlam. Do I really like him kissing me? she’d ask herself, walking back to her room, reaching up to aggressively wipe away any evidence of their intimacy. Why do I feel flattered and fluttery inside, and yet repulsed at the same time?

  When idle thoughts about Allistair clouded her mind, she’d fall into a pattern of quizzing herself. Are you only missing Allistair because you want what you don’t have—because he’s the one that got away? Focus on Stephen; work harder on your relationship with him. God’s showing you his will. Like Aunt Sarah said, remember those influencing your life in your peripheral vision. And Stephen’s the most prominent one there right now.

  On Good Friday, Michal repeatedly asked God to forgive her. For not concentrating on her studies like she should. For not keeping her vow to be singularly focused on getting her degree so she could get back to Ethiopia as soon as possible. And finally, for her disloyalty to Beth, since they’d pledged to each other they would not get seriously involved with anyone—since that would take too much time from their studies. By Easter Sunday morning, Michal was so overwhelmed with guilt that she resolved, Okay, no more Stephen. No more thinking about Allistair either. I’m totally done with this entire mess.

  The resolution lasted until Stephen smiled at her on Monday afternoon.

  Weeks passed. Nearly every day Michal talked with Stephen—or rather, attempted to. Their conversations evolved into one-sided affairs consisting mostly of Stephen’s solicitous attempts to teach her, as he would point out applications she should apply to her life. Lessons learned from chapel speakers, professors, and Stephen himself. Michal would nod. And agree, judging it was God’s way of teaching her to submit.

  The nighttime calls came regularly, announcing, “Someone to see you in the lounge.” Her heart beating, sometimes she’d still naively hope it might be Allistair. Finding instead that it was always Stephen. They’d have another awkward, halting conversation. Another kiss combined with a “God’s really blessing our intimacy, Michal” sort of comment before he’d bolt out the door, leaving her feeling a little emptier each time. With a vague longing for something she couldn’t describe or put a name to.

  Though Michal was puzzled why she and Stephen hadn’t developed a close friendship, she assumed God’s will was clear. She would simply follow Stephen’s lead. Things were at least relatively settled in her heart and mind.

  It was the second week in May, another night when Michal slept fitfully, the nightmare visiting her repeatedly. But it was more, too, odd noises in the night just beyond waking—a sense that things were off somehow.

  The sound of a baby’s cry awakened her.

  She opened her eyes in the dim light of early morning, curious and confused. Looked over at Beth.

  “Michal. Look what I found.” Beth held out a squirming, mewling—it was too tiny and pathetic to be called a cry—baby toward her, a look of pure awe on her face.

  Immediately jolted into full wakefulness, Michal sat upright and leaned over the bundle. Peered down into the pinched, red face. Took in the tiny fists that waved precariously about in the air, appearing to be looking for someone—or something—to blame for its predicament. A wispy thatch of wet hair—dark brown? It was too wet to tell—curled around its tiny head.

  “What do you mean you found it?”

  “Outside our window—I found it there. Didn’t you hear it crying?”

  Michal shook her head. As much to answer no as to shake off the sense she was still asleep and dreaming.

  Beth hugged the baby against her chest, cradling it while she cooed, attempting to quiet its cries.

  “We’ve got to call the resident advisor. What am I thinking?” Michal reached over to squeeze Beth’s arm. “We’ve got to call 911, Beth. The baby has to be examined. Make sure it’s okay. And they need to find its mother.”

  Beth rocked the baby, its cries subsiding somewhat.

  “Beth. Are you listening to me?”

  She gave Michal a glance of annoyance. “I’m trying to get her calmed down. And warm.”

  “Her? How do you know it’s a she?”

  Beth grinned. “I checked, silly. How do you normally tell?”

  “But … does she have a diaper on?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Not really? What was she wearing when you found her? They might be able to tell who the mother is from those clues.”

  Beth mumbled something, holding the baby out from her, peering intently into the tiny face.

  “Beth. Stop a minute and talk to me. This is serious.”

  Her head jerked up, the previous near ecstasy changed to irritation. “I know this is serious, Michal. But don’t yell or you’ll make her cry again. Can’t you see I’m just trying to soothe her, make her feel loved? Where’s your concern for her, anyway?”

  Chastised, Michal was quiet a moment. “Sorry. But I’m going to use the phone in the lounge to call 911. And then the RA.” She put on her robe, taking time to tie it securely. Assuming they’d be overrun with emergency personnel—all too quickly. “Times like this I sure wish one of us had a cell phone. Now, what do I tell them? Maybe you should call?”

  “No. I’m not putting her down right now. Not after everything that—”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. But come out in the lounge with me
, just in case they ask something you need to answer, will you?”

  But as Michal reached for the door, Beth still hadn’t moved.

  “Beth?”

  “Go ahead and call. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Frustrated, Michal rushed to the phone and punched in 911. She was relieved to hear a calm voice on the other end.

  “You’ve reached 911. What’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “My roommate—Beth Elliott’s her name—just … she just found a newborn baby outside our dorm room.”

  “What’s your name, please?”

  “Michal McHenry.”

  “Michal McHenry? Did I hear that correctly? Michal?”

  “Yes, it’s spelled M-I-C-H-A-L. But I’m a girl.”

  “That’s fine, Michal. I just needed to get that straight. And what’s your phone number there?”

  She repeated it carefully and gave their address.

  “That’s McMaster’s Bible College? Peterson Dorm. Seven three one Mill Street? Correct?”

  “Yes, and we’ve got a newborn baby here. Someone left the poor thing outside.”

  “You said your roommate found the baby. Is the baby breathing normally?”

  “She seems to be fine. I mean she’s fussing and waving her hands around.”

  “What’s her coloring like, Michal?”

  “Her coloring? Well, she’s kinda red. And pink.”

  “And your roommate’s name is Beth Elliott?”

  The dispatcher asked to speak with Beth, but when Michal beckoned for Beth to get on the phone, she shook her head, vehemently whispering, “Tell them I’m holding the baby. I can’t just put her down.”

  Michal was relieved to finally hear sirens and—in a near panic at that point—said she had to hang up. That if she didn’t call her resident advisor immediately she’d probably be in a lot of trouble.

  “Okay, Michal. That’s fine. I just needed to make sure we had the right address. Can you see the lights from the ambulance now?”

  “Yeah. They’re right here—just outside the main entrance.”

  “Great. Call your dorm advisor. And thank you, Michal.”

  “Thank you.” Michal punched in the RA’s number. She picked up on the first ring, alarm apparent in her voice. “Yes?”

  “Miss Hamilton, I’m sorry to bother you, but—”

  “What’s happened? Is someone hurt?” Her questions came out in a rush, and Michal could hear her climbing out of bed. “Who is this?”

  “Michal McHenry. And no, no one’s hurt. But my roommate, Beth, found a newborn baby. Outside our window.” By then, many of Beth’s suitemates were awake. Alarmed by the sirens and lights, they began peppering Michal with questions too. Michal tried to wave them off while continuing to explain to Miss Hamilton. “No, Beth’s okay. I’m sorry, Miss Hamilton, for not calling sooner—”

  “Michal, what’s going on?”

  “You’d better just come to our suite. I’ve got to go let the paramedics in.”

  Michal hung up, frantically motioned Samantha and Jenny toward her room. “Go see Beth. Ask her. I’ve got to go open the outside door.”

  By the time she got back—followed by a burly man and an efficient-looking woman carrying various items of equipment, including a stretcher—Beth was sitting calmly on a chair in the lounge. Surrounded like a Madonna by Jenny, Samantha, Jessica, and Ruth. All were oohing and aahing at the bundle Beth still held clutched against her chest.

  “Ladies, would you mind stepping back, please?” the woman asked. “My name’s Sharon. This is my partner, Will.” The girls moved away from the baby—hovering in the lounge so they could continue to observe the developing drama—but Beth didn’t even bother looking up, she was so enraptured by the tiny life she held.

  “Beth? Is that your name?”

  She nodded, barely acknowledging Will’s question.

  “We need to take the baby in a minute here, Beth. Need to check her out.”

  No response from Beth this time. Michal noticed Beth had wrapped the baby in her ragged quilt. It was far too big and hung down onto the floor, bunching at Beth’s feet.

  They continued to pull out equipment. Graciously giving Beth a few moments to collect herself, Michal assumed. It was apparent—as the paramedics shot each other concerned looks—they didn’t want a tug-of-war over their miniature patient.

  Michal was about to ask why they’d brought in such a big stretcher when Sharon soothingly asked, “Beth? Will you hand me the baby now, please?”

  Beth looked up at the paramedic, but her gaze was unfocused. Confused. “What?”

  Sharon held out her arms, palms extended. “Please give me the baby, Beth. We need to examine her, okay?”

  Finally Beth appeared to understand. Gently placed the bundle into Sharon’s waiting arms. Separating the tiny body from the giant bunting, Sharon lifted the naked baby from the quilt and placed her on the stretcher. Which immediately brought forth a loud, angry cry from the little one.

  Beth’s arms jerked toward her reflexively, while Sharon’s arm shot out in reaction to Beth, blocking her from touching the baby—both actions occurring as though rehearsed. Will and Sharon exchanged another quick look.

  The team worked in tandem, quickly taking vitals. Speaking quietly, efficiently moving from one task to the other. All while the baby continued to cry, kicking its legs in protest. Waving its arms around as though attempting to push away the offending instruments.

  “Is she going to be all right?” from Miss Hamilton, whom Michal was surprised to hear. She hadn’t noticed she’d joined them in the lounge, already crowded with too many. “I’m Jane Hamilton, the resident advisor for this dorm. If I can help with anything, please let me know.”

  “It would be best if you accompanied Beth. To help … answer questions.”

  Miss Hamilton glanced toward Beth, assuming they’d meet eyes in agreement. But Beth’s full attention was focused solely on the baby. As though nothing else in the room existed.

  “Yes, of course. Beth, you should go get dressed.”

  No answer. Miss Hamilton caught Michal’s eye then. Motioned her head toward Beth, indicating she was to get Beth’s attention. When Michal reached out to put her hand on Beth’s shoulder she could feel tremors moving through her roommate’s body. And even at that slight touch, Beth felt unbelievably cold.

  “Beth? Beth, you need to get dressed, okay?” Michal tightened her grip, shaking her just a bit. “Miss Hamilton will go with you to the police station, okay? To make a report about finding the baby.”

  She turned toward Michal, apparently still confused, acting as though she barely recognized her.

  “Come on, Beth. I’ll help you.”

  Beth finally stood. Instantly, Michal recoiled at the blood pooled on the chair.

  “She’s bleeding.” Samantha gasped, pointing.

  For a moment, everyone froze in position. All eyes riveted on the bright red puddle on the chair, dripping onto the floor. And then everyone’s gaze shifted toward Beth. To her face. Which still focused only on the baby, who was crying more softly now. Mewling like a kitten again, her mouth working, making barely audible sucking noises.

  Will and Sharon communicated through a mere glance. Responded as though a manual had prepared them for this type of emergency. Quietly, Sharon wrapped up the baby in a white blanket they’d brought in with them, scooping her up into her arms. Will reached toward Beth, gently guided her toward the stretcher, helping her to lie down.

  “But what’s the matter with her? Is she … will Beth be all right?” Michal’s voice rose in intensity with each question. Still unknowing. Searching for the connection between Beth, bleeding, nearly in shock. And the baby’s faint cries.

  Until realization dawned.


  Michal exhaled, her words of not much more substance than air. “It’s hers. The baby—it’s Beth’s baby, isn’t it?”

  The paramedics worked over Beth, neither bothering to look up; they were so intent upon checking the mother. Covering her with another blanket. Getting ready to insert an IV. Chatting with their dispatcher, another at the hospital, alerting them of their imminent arrival—with baby. And mother.

  Time passed as Michal watched the scene unfold, but she hadn’t been aware of it. She glanced over at her suitemates. Saw them staring at Beth. Looks of shock and—was it fear? Or the stark prick of reality causing something closer to horror?

  Miss Hamilton had already changed into street clothes and was planning to accompany Beth. It dawned on Michal she should go too—to comfort and support her roommate. My roommate? The thought rushed through her mind. Is she really the same person I said good night to last night? As she tugged off pajamas and pulled on jeans and a shirt, her thoughts continued to race. Nothing made sense. Absolutely nothing.

  When she opened her door, they were getting ready to transport Beth. The baby was back in Beth’s arms, and the paramedics had just lifted the stretcher. Miss Hamilton held the door as they proceeded through.

  “Miss Hamilton? I want to go … I should be there. I want—”

  But the paramedics were shaking their heads. “I’m sorry. Michal, is it? But only one can come. It needs to be someone in authority. Someone who can contact Beth’s parents.”

  “But they’re—”

  Miss Hamilton waved a sheaf of papers. “I have all the information, Michal. We’ll notify them. Don’t worry about it—or about Beth. I promise we’ll take good care of her.” Her cell phone rang, and she grabbed it quickly. “Yes? Oh, yes, Dean Mitchell. We’re on our way to the hospital now …” her voice fading as she followed the entourage.