Emilie chuckled again and Maureen pictured her friend’s slightly crooked, impish grin. Emilie always pulled the left side of her smile slightly higher, which also created a distinct dimple. It was one of those infectious smiles that seemed to constantly hint that she was enjoying a private joke, and was merely waiting for you to catch on. “I know this doesn’t sound like the most opportune time to present this argument, but Mo, I swear I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I weren’t a full-time mom.”
“At this point, friend, having grown children who’ve moved on in life sounds like heaven to me. Oh, almost forgot to tell you. I had a dream the other night that I was in labor and delivered a baby girl. When she popped out—yes, she popped; it was a dream, for heaven’s sake—instead of crying, the baby yelled, ‘NO.’”
Emilie exploded with laughter, the honking, no-holds-barred laugh that was distinctly hers. Maureen loved making Emilie laugh, fondly remembering the first time she’d heard the sound—at a dorm meeting when they were in college. Even a noisy room-length away, Maureen had caught that distinctive sound and found herself gravitating toward the source of the delightful outburst. And then promptly fell in love with the woman who owned it.
“Maybe I’d better start praying you have a boy? I suppose you could always name him Earnest. Or Eldridge,” Maureen offered. She fleetingly thought about peeking in the window to check on the girls. Decided against it.
“See? You admit there are E names left.”
“And there’s Evan.”
“Way too close to Ethan. I’d yell the wrong name constantly.”
“Good point. I really should go, Em. Oh, almost forgot—see you tomorrow at the Vacation Bible School meeting? Nine o’clock, in the sixth-grade room. With the hours I’m putting in at the shop right now I feel a bit overwhelmed. But Bill and I agree I need to stay committed to VBS, no matter what.”
“Yeah, Ed feels the same way, but I don’t see him volunteering to cut out two hundred and forty baskets for baby Moses.”
“Ha. But there is a payoff: The gang’s going to lunch afterward, right?”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow.” Maureen clicked off the phone, squared her shoulders, and gingerly opened the door of the family room to face her daughters. Colleen’s wrath had reached the crisis stage. Aubrey’s lower lip began quivering. Full-blown tears wouldn’t be far behind, and Maureen dreaded the shift from laughing with her friend to conflict resolution. Some days it felt like all she did was referee arguments between the two. Sending up a quick prayer—God, give me wisdom—she set to the task.
“Mom, you gotta tell Aubrey to stay out of my stuff. Out … of … my … room.” Every word drawn out, driven home by a steely teenage stare at the three-year-old who glared right back—even though her lips were still trembling and her eyes were already glistening with the hint of tears. “I need my privacy,” Colleen said.
Maureen looked from one daughter to the other in exasperation and disappointment. After Colleen was born, she and Bill had tried for ten years to have another child—years of bargaining and pleading with God to put another baby in their arms. Their prayers were finally answered when Aubrey joined their little family. Bill and Maureen were convinced that compliant, easy-going, sweet-tempered Colleen—about to enter the “turbulent teens,” as friends had called it—would welcome her new sibling with nothing but loving acceptance and unbounded joy.
Had they merely been delusional? Or totally out of their minds?
“Aubrey, did you go into Colleen’s room? You know you’re not supposed to be in your sister’s room without her permission.”
Aubrey reached for a handful of her mother’s sweatshirt as she gazed up at her. Her security seemed tied to a need to clutch things—satin on the edge of a blanket, the hem of her dresses (to her mother’s exasperation, as Aubrey repeatedly revealed her own underwear), her daddy’s pocket (she could reach just that high), and of course, the ever-present Rabbit. She whispered, “I hada finded Rabbit, Mommy.”
“But why did you think Rabbit was in Collie’s room?” Maureen whispered back.
Aubrey held out her hands, palms up, with eyes wide open in feigned innocence. “’Cause … ’cause I fink he’s hiding in there.”
“See. I told you she’d been in my room. She’s always doing stuff like this and getting away with—”
Trying her best to remain calm, Maureen interrupted. “Colleen, I’m handling it.” She paused, took a breath, and looked at her eldest daughter. “How about you go read the first part of John 8? It’s the passage about throwing the first stone.”
The look Colleen gave Maureen hit like a direct punch to the stomach. “I’m sick of you throwing Bible verses at me, Mother.” The name was saturated with sarcasm and disrespect. “Like you’re one to lay that on me. I heard you talking about Daddy with Miss Mann the other day. I heard what you said about him. And then you act … all loving-like with Daddy. And I heard what you said to Mrs. Esteban, too. You really don’t think they should have another kid, but because they’ve decided God says they should, you’re like, all for it suddenly. That’s sick.”
The accusation made Maureen feel ill, causing her to regret that she hadn’t hung up the phone the instant the girls started arguing. What on earth did I say to Sherry Mann? I can’t remember. Impulsively, Maureen reached out to pull Aubrey into her embrace. “Colleen, I—”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking right now, too,” Colleen spit out with a sneer. “You’re worried about your friends, aren’t you? What they would think of you if they could hear me right now.”
Sickening silence. Maureen opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came.
“Knew I was right.” Colleen smirked and gave her mother one last disdainful, triumphant look before turning away. She walked down the hallway toward her room. “Here’s the disgusting rabbit.” A thump followed the pronouncement as it was thrown against the wall of the hallway, followed by the slam of her door.
“Mommy?”
A mommy again, not a mo-ther. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Can I get Rabbit now?”
“Sure.”
Lured by the glimpse of a bluebird that had just landed atop the birdhouse, Maureen moved to look out the window. She identified him immediately as a male, for he was a radiant indigo. For a moment, she simply drank in his glorious color, grateful for the respite. But then, distracted by the erratically waving leaves of the palm next to the house, she lifted her gaze to the sky. It was a sickly yellow, the hue that often precedes a major storm.
Though the air conditioner was running—generally a must for Florida’s climate—Maureen still noticed an uncomfortable mugginess. Absentmindedly she ran her fingers through her hair. Pulled a sticky shirt away from her neck and chest and used it to fan sweaty skin. The changing barometric pressure felt as though it were throbbing inside her head. And then, as storms along the volatile Florida coast tend to do, the rain rushed toward them with a force of its own, and raindrops struck against the window with a vengeance.
Maureen’s attention shifted back to the bird. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath, but now she exhaled, relieved to find the bird still there, protectively flattening itself against the birdhouse roof, feathers ruffled by the wind. Please stay, she whispered, pleading. Go into the bird house, where you’ll be safe. But he flew off, battling the aggressive wind as he fluttered away from her.
Blinking her eyes, stretching out her tense neck from side to side, forcing herself to do something, Maureen moved to the mundane, the comfortably familiar—she started dinner, pulling out lettuce and vegetables. It wasn’t until she nearly tripped over a small foot that she noticed her daughter hovering again. Aubrey grabbed a handful of sweatshirt, the need to clutch something heightened when she felt insecure. Rabbit was b
ack where he belonged, none the worse for his ill treatment. He couldn’t get much worse looking anyway, Maureen mused, blaming herself for not being firmer with Aubrey about dragging it everywhere. It was rare that Rabbit got tossed into the washer.
Maureen leaned down, meeting Aubrey’s look at eye level. She gazed into eyes that were likewise unusual—considering Aubrey also had red hair—but unlike her mother’s, Aubrey’s eyes were a rich dark brown with matching dark lashes. Still, despite the difference in eye color, family and friends teased that Bill and Maureen had been given “one each” by God. Colleen took mostly after her father, sharing his darker olive skin and straighter hair, while Aubrey had inherited her mother’s auburn curls and fairer coloring—though Aubrey’s skin had less of a propensity to freckle. She did have a sprinkling across her nose and cheeks, however, which only served to highlight her eyes, like an ornamental frame around a picture.
“What’s up, Lolly Pops?” Maureen asked, using Bill’s nickname for Aubrey.
Dimpled fingers firmly gripped the stuffed animal against her chest. “Rabbit’s wowied.”
“About?”
“The storm.”
Maureen took Aubrey’s hand in hers and directed her toward the window. They stared out at the pellets of rain that were now striking fragile, budding blooms. “All the rain and thunder are out there, sweetie.” Maureen lightly squeezed her daughter’s hand. “We’re absolutely safe here in the house. God’s protecting us. Rabbit, too.” She pulled Aubrey into her embrace, healing the worry, wishing, If only I could do this as easily with Colleen. “Want to help me with lettuce for a salad? Yes? Bring over your step stool.”
Rabbit in one hand, Aubrey dragged the stool with the other. Another rumble of thunder made her pause momentarily, but then she scrambled up the steps to the sink, plopping the stuffed animal on the counter. “Rabbit will watch us, but we better keep a eye on him. He loves lettuce.”
“I suppose he does.” Maureen frowned at the grimy stuffed animal’s presence on the counter, but she reminded herself that distracting Aubrey from the storm was the higher priority. “All rabbits like lettuce and carrots, don’t they?” She broke off a small section of lettuce for Aubrey to wash.
Over the sounds of the approaching storm, neither had noticed the grind of the garage door and Bill’s entering the kitchen until they were greeted with his usual “I’m home.”
“Daddy!” Aubrey squealed in delight. “I’m helping Mommy.”
“I can see that.” Bill reached down to pet Bobo, who greeted him with a wiggling body and his imitation of barking: high-pitched yips. “How’s it goin’, ole boy? Survive another day in this female-dominated household?”
Tall with an athletic build, smooth olive skin, dark eyes, and a full head of nearly jet black hair—not counting a distinguished dusting of white at the temples—Bill’s coloring was totally opposite Maureen’s, a stark difference that had initially caught his interest. He moved like the athlete he was, gracefully, but with economy. Bill rarely wasted time, never sauntered anywhere, and approached life with a mix of good instincts.
Fifty years old, a family doctor at a thriving practice, Bill was a natural leader—not only at his office, but also at church, in the community, the girls’ school organizations, even events like a neighborhood pick-up basketball game. His easy assurance, commanding demeanor, and tone of voice made him stand out. People felt safe with Bill and trusted him. They came to him for advice.
“Look, Daddy.” Aubrey grinned up at him now, offering her cheek for a kiss. “I’m helping Mommy get the lettuce clean.” She proudly held out her well-handled—and therefore, rather wilted—piece of lettuce. “Colleen’s mad again but Rabbit and I don’t care. This is more fun.”
Bill turned to study his wife’s profile. He gave Maureen a peck on the cheek. “Hey. So what’s the deal with Colleen?”
Maureen waved off any concern, gesturing with the carrot she was peeling. “Nothing, really. Just the usual teenage stuff. How are things at the office?”
But Bill wasn’t fooled, taking note of the deflection and the telltale set of Maureen’s neck and shoulders. He reached up to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the collar. “Busy. Had several more inexperienced new mothers in today. I’m spending way too much of my time teaching them basics they should already know.”
“Isn’t that why you hired Carrie?”
“Had to let her go today, unfortunately. She just wasn’t getting the job done.” Bill reached out to tug on Aubrey’s ear, distracting her while he snatched a carrot.
“Oh, Bill. So Hailey’s back to picking up all the slack?”
“We all pick up the slack, Mo. And it’s my responsibility to make sure we’re all contributing as needed. Getting the job done.”
An edge had crept into his voice, and once again Maureen was eager to change the subject. “Would you start the grill, please? Once you get your clothes changed?”
“No problem.” He reached out to tug Aubrey’s ear again, eliciting another giggle before he headed down the hall, pausing momentarily at his other daughter’s door. Closed and locked door, as he discovered by attempting to give the handle a turn.
Dinner was strained, echoing the feel of the storm that mostly passed them by, skirting off to the north. It left the evening feeling bereft, the earth wanting what the skies flaunted but denied to give. Except for Aubrey’s chatter, conversations didn’t flow easily, thanks in part to the pointed one-word answers and grunts from Colleen. She ate little, mostly rearranged food on her plate, and asked to be excused as soon as Maureen began clearing the table.
Later, when Bill summoned Colleen for family devotions, she begrudgingly joined them. She’d not been an active participant for weeks, uttering only a word or two when directly questioned. But tonight Colleen amped the protest even higher, for her entire posture was in revolt; she sat rigidly with crossed arms, head pointed down as she stared at her lap. Maureen felt relieved when it was finally time to end with prayer.
Maureen had just tucked Aubrey into bed and closed her bedroom door when she heard Bill calling.
“Mo?”
Maureen leaned heavily against the door, closing her eyes and sighing. She’d hoped to escape it all—Bill included—by heading directly to bed. She wanted to fade into oblivion by watching some mindless television show until she fell asleep. It all felt so overwhelming at this hour. Certainly I can get a better perspective in the morning, she thought, convincing herself that checking in on Colleen wasn’t a good idea and hoping Bill’s call wasn’t regarding anything more difficult than helping him find a mismatched sock.
She reached for toothbrush and paste as Bill leaned against the sink, his back to the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t turn to face her, but she noted the disconcerted frown, the telling twitch along the line of his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
She inched away from him before she asked, “What did you need?”
He turned to face her, inserting his face into her line of vision. “Pretty obvious things aren’t good between you and Colleen. I take it you upset her again?”
“I upset her?” she said in shock, spraying toothpaste across the mirror, which of course further inflamed her frustration.
“Please keep your voice down, Mo. Okay, bad choice of words. But I need to know you’ve got a plan to handle this.”
“She was rude to me.” Maureen jammed her toothbrush back into its designated slot. “Can’t you ever try to see things from my perspective?” She could feel tears of frustration threatening, but she blinked them back.
“I’m just trying to help you view all the angles, Maureen. As a doctor, that’s what I do. Help people. I’m just trying to help you, too.” Spoken in controlled, soothing tones. His doctor’s voice.
Maureen yanked open a drawer, rummaging through neatly folded nightgowns until she spo
tted the oldest one she could find. She began pulling off clothes, tugging the gown over her head with such jerking, magnified movements that she tore off a button. “Aubrey put her Rabbit in Colleen’s room. Colleen had a fit about it. I tried to help both see they were wrong. Does that make me such a terrible mother?” She paused a moment. “And the bluebirds have rejected my bird house … again.” Crumpling onto the bed, Maureen allowed a few tears to spill over. “I ought to just take the stupid thing down.”
“Good land, Mo, what do bluebirds have to do with anything? You and Colleen aren’t speaking and that’s what you’re crying about?” He stared at her in disbelief, taking in her red, runny nose, disheveled hair, nightgown askew because of the missing button. He shook his head in amazement, sudden pity dousing all irritation, and eased down onto the bed beside her.
“I was just trying to help you, honey.” Pulling her against his chest, Bill tucked her head under his chin. Maureen continued to weep silently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Evidently this is some girl thing between you two that has to play out. Have you been praying about it?”
“Of course I have.” He could feel her stiffen.
“Then what’s the main issue here? What has you so upset, for cryin’ out loud?”
“She … she accused me of being a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite? Why on earth?” He pulled his arms from her, shifting his body so he could watch her reaction.
“I have no idea. Something about a conversation she says she overheard. On the phone.” Maureen got up to grab a tissue from the bathroom, blew her nose. “I’ll try to talk with her more about it tomorrow, Bill, but right now I have to go to bed.” She began pitching decorative pillows onto the floor, pulling back covers.
Bridge to a Distant Star Page 2
