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 gr
ew 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.”
He’d just reached for the door when Sarah blurted out, “Doctor, wait. Would it be possible for Michal and me to have just a few more minutes alone?”
“Absolutely. Take as much time as you need; they can wait. I’ll beat them off with my stethoscope if I have to.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“You’ve got thirty. Going back to Michal’s room, are you? Then I’ll meet you all in the lounge in a half hour.”
Bill looked around the room at the small group gathered there. They were strangers—and yet, no longer. Intimates, in a way, but not that either. All touched by tragedy, now forming fledgling relationships for an unknown future—but one they would face with newly discovered hope. “I, um …” he stammered. Finding himself uncharacteristically without a sense of clear direction. Except for one thing. “Before you leave us, Sarah and Michal, is anyone else feeling this … sense of urgency like I am? That we six need to … to be together? To stay together, somehow?”
Vigorous nods and affirmations of “Oh, yes,” from everyone followed. His gaze traveled from one to another, but he allowed it to rest longer on Fran and Aubrey. Aubrey had latched onto Fran’s gown again, and Bill looked lovingly from his daughter’s hand to the woman Aubrey had miraculously claimed as someone she would determinedly love. And who would in turn love her, Colleen … and me? Bill pondered.
Minutes later, Sarah helped Michal with the ungainly IV, tucking her back into bed, even though it would be a brief respite. Sarah took Michal’s hands between her own, holding them tightly.
“Aunt Sarah, I … I need to talk to you about something.”
Sarah smiled at her, reassuringly. “About why you were on the bus.”
What she’d left behind came rushing back, and Michal nodded her head, her eyes flooding with tears. “Beth—” Michal could get no further, and abruptly stopped.
“I heard. Amongst the crowd waiting out there is a Miss Hamilton, your RA, I understand?” Michal nodded. “So Beth had a baby in the dorm. And no one knew she was pregnant. I take it … you didn’t know either?”
Michal shook her head. “I had no idea, Aunt Sarah. And the night before I left, she had the baby right there in our room.” It was a relief to finally tell it all, to let the truth come tumbling out. “She went through all that without telling me—being pregnant. Labor. Not confiding in me because I wasn’t worthy of her trust.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Michal. Beth made her own decisions.”
“But that’s not all. Something else happened too.” She turned away, felt her face flush crimson.
“You know I’m just going to keep on loving you, no matter what you tell me.”
Michal took a deep breath, still avoiding her aunt’s steady gaze. “Stephen tried to … touch me.” Her voice caught, and between sobs she choked out, “He said it was God’s will. That I wanted it—that I’d led him on. I tried to push him away. But he was so strong.
“And then suddenly Allistair was there. Pulling Stephen off me. I hate to think what would’ve happened if he hadn’t. But I was so ashamed that Allistair … what he saw. I don’t think I can ever face him again.” She turned, her eyes boring into Sarah’s now. “So you see why I just had to get away from there. I don’t want to ever go back. And please don’t send me to Ethiopia either. Could I … could I come live with you? Please, Aunt Sarah?”
Sarah’s eyes were soft, but her answer was firm. “No, Michal, you can’t.”
The unexpected rejection hit like a punch to Michal’s stomach. But before she could utter a word, Sarah reached up to cradle Michal’s face in her hands. “The feelings and memories will forever be with you. But hear me, Michal. Hear my heart. Following God means you may have to go where it hurts. Don’t waste the pain, Michal. Follow it all the way to the cross with Christ.”
Her voice flat, Michal stated, “You think I have to go back. To face Stephen. And Allistair.” Michal squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to erase the images from her mind. The way Allistair had looked at her. The sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t think I’m brave enough to do that.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve survived boarding school, adapted to a culture on the other side of the earth, and then returned to a foreign home. And now you’ve survived a collapsed bridge. That’s the brave young woman I know—and that’s the same one who can face all her fears.”
There was a knock at the door again. The doctor poked his head in, apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry to bother you yet again. But there’s someone out here, Miss McHenry, who’s insistent on seeing you before the others.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, and Michal, hastily wiping away tears, reasoned, “I don’t know who it could be. I’m just not quite ready to—”
“Well, he’s gotten … obnoxious, quite frankly. And that’s saying a lot considering he’s competing with reporters. Says he’s from your school and his name’s—” The doctor was abruptly pushed to one side of the doorway, and irritably snapped, “Hey. You can’t just—”
Hair uncombed, clothes a rumpled mess, one hand clutching a large chocolate candy bar—he’d pretty much shoved the doctor aside in his impatience—he finally settled eyes overflowing with love on the one woman he’d been seeking.
“Michal? Oh God, I was so afraid I’d lost you.”
She smiled through her tears. “Aunt Sarah. I’d like you to meet Allistair Fuller.”
The six walked into the lounge together to raucous cheers, applause, and the flashes of dozens of cameras—three survivors and three family members, though each of the six would have firmly stated they were all present due to miraculous events.
Michal and Fran were in wheelchairs, Michal to the spectators’ left. As soon as she entered the lounge area her eyes darted about the room, searching the faces. And when she found that one, her eyes lit up and a hint of a smile appeared as she relaxed back into her chair. Reddening, suddenly embarrassed, she studied the tightly clenched hands in her lap.
Sarah stood between Michal and Fran. She had one hand on each of the women’s shoulders, lightly touching one of them. The other shoulder, the slimmer of the two, Sarah held so tightly that the tips of her fingers were white. A fan pushed Sarah’s ever-escaping wispy curls across her nose, tickling her. But stubbornly, rather than remove a hand from either of the two women beside her, Sarah merely twitched her nose. She swallowed to keep herself from laughing out loud—appreciating the humor of how it must’ve looked—all the while keeping her chin high, her jaw firm, and one foot slightly in front of the other.
Fran cuddled Aubrey on her lap so tightly that it was nearly impossible to tell where one body stopped and the other began. Her cheek resting on top of Aubrey
’s head, those soft curls, she glanced now and then toward Sarah. And then Bill—though he appeared not to notice.
Aubrey still clung to the collar of Fran’s robe, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the assault of glaring flashes. But when she peeked up at Fran, she was filled with wonder at the sparkle in Fran’s eyes—partly due to the gold flecks, but mostly from the glistening tears.
Colleen had insisted on wheeling Fran’s chair herself, and she gripped the handles as though she wouldn’t be able to stand without their aid. Cowed by the intensity of the crowd, Colleen glanced up only now and then, keeping her gaze on the top of Fran’s and her sister’s heads. When Bill reached over to playfully pinch Colleen’s side, she pushed his hand away—but smiled and giggled nervously as she did so.
The last in the tableau, Bill had come as the spokesperson for the group. He held a sheaf of papers in his left hand, some notes he’d jotted down concerning Aubrey’s interpretation of the miraculous survival and a short testimony to the God of miracles. He cleared his throat as he began introducing himself and the others. And as he did so, he reached back toward Colleen. He touched her lightly and then—was he even aware of the movement?—his hand strayed toward the cold metal of the wheelchair and finally, the warmth of Fran’s other shoulder. Where it rested, comfortably.
… a little more …
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• A Conversation with Carolyn Williford
Bridge to a Distant Star Page 31