“Oh, I know you didn’t. But it’s good you asked. Whenever I’m with Aunt Sarah, she always steers our discussions to be about me—what I’m learning, how I’m doing. You know, this time I’m going to ask her questions too.”
“She sounds like someone who’s a great listener.”
Michal smiled. “Yeah, she really is.”
“I think everyone needs someone like her in their life.”
Michal agreed, tucking a straying curl behind her ear. Jessica had insisted Michal wear it down, the sides pulled back with a large barrette that perfectly matched the color of Jessica’s blouse. But as usual, her hair wouldn’t stay in place, and there were small tendrils at both sides of her face. Framing her expressive eyes (minus eye makeup—Michal had drawn a firm line on that), highlighting them.
Allistair was quiet a moment, pensive. He had a McMaster’s baseball cap on and reached up to straighten the brim before putting his hands in his pockets. “My first year here, we had a chapel speaker who really convicted me.” He stared straight ahead, his expression conveying a seriousness she hadn’t seen in him before. “I decided right then I needed to go to the mission field.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I was convinced that’s what I was supposed to do. Knew exactly where to go too.” He glanced over at her and grinned shyly.
“And that was …?”
“Africa, of course. Isn’t that where the most spiritual missionaries go?”
Instantly defensive, Michal stopped in her tracks. She glared at him, mouth open.
Allistair reached out with both hands, conceding. “Oh, no—I’m really sorry. What I was trying to say was that’s what I thought. In my totally immature way of thinking back then.”
“So what does that say about missionaries there now?”
He pointed to an empty bench. “Look, how about if we go sit down for a minute?” Putting a hand against Michal’s back, he gently guided her toward the bench. To her consternation, Michal was intensely conscious of his hand. And how it felt. “I think I need to completely start over, don’t I?”
She smiled, despite her firm intention not to. “You think?”
He took off the cap and ran a hand through his hair. Slumping over with his forearms on his knees, Allistair looked up at her through squinted eyes. “Gotta tell you … I don’t know when I’ve ever started a date so badly.”
Michal had to giggle at his obvious distress and disarming honesty.
“So, does that reaction mean I get another chance?”
“Oh, I always grant do-overs. Like on the playground.”
Allistair grinned, eyes twinkling. “Exactly.”
“My dad says since we’re given grace, we have to grant it too. And do-overs are life’s way of making that possible.”
“I think your dad sounds like a wise man.”
Michal nodded matter-of-factly. “He is. And …”—she dramatically drew out each word—“ever so spiritual, too.”
She let Allistair suffer for a moment, looking into his openly vulnerable expression that almost broadcasted, How do I take this? Is she being serious? And then she burst into laughter again.
“Walked right into that one, didn’t I?” he asked, laughing along with Michal. “Can I try to explain my way out?”
“It’s a do-over.”
“Well … see, back then I thought everyone was called to the mission field, not at all understanding the idea of integration.” His face lit up, and he elaborated, “But here’s the way I understand it now: We’re all called to a lifetime of sharing the gospel. That might be in Africa, at an office, in a classroom of kids, or behind a register at a local grocery. Or it might be where I’m now convinced God wants me to go—to a church somewhere here in the States.”
Allistair grew more animated, using his hands to articulate his point. “I don’t think any one of those is a higher calling, Michal. The highest is wherever God wants me. And I think a person can be called to clean houses the same as someone is called to full-time vocational ministry. See, what’s important is … that I’m seeking his will for my life. What he wants me to do.” He looked at her intently—as though her opinion mattered to him. “Make sense?”
“I guess. I mean … I’m having a hard time with secular jobs being equal with a missionary or pastor. Isn’t full-time Christian ministry more important than other mere … jobs? And what if someone was really called to the mission field? Wouldn’t she be wrong not to go?”
“So are you assuming everyone’s initially called to missions or to work full-time in the church? And it’s only if those don’t work out that he or she is free to do other things? Jobs which aren’t as good or important as being a pastor or missionary?”
Michal started to shake her head no, and sat back against the bench. She chewed on a nail, peering intently at Allistair. “Well, I guess I am kind of saying that.”
He leaned closer to her, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. “See, that’s my point, Michal. I don’t think that’s true at all. I believe someone’s initial and highest calling could be to work a cash register at a grocery.” To her continuing doubtful look, he added, “Look at it this way. Can’t a clerk who’s committed to sharing the gospel reach people who come in the store every day? Why is that less of a ministry than those sharing in another country?”
“So being a grocery clerk is as high a calling as a pastor. Or a foreign missionary.” Spoken as statements, but in a skeptical tone.
He glanced toward the gymnasium, noting the groups of students making their way in. “Give it some more thought. How about if we talk more the next time?”
Next time. Michal noted his assumption, feeling excitement and apprehension in the same moment.
“We’d better roll or all the good seats will be gone,” Allistair continued. “And the bleachers during a game probably isn’t going to be the best place for a deep theological discussion.” The twinkle was back in his eyes again as he smiled down at her.
“I suppose not. Unless we’re going to scream our opinions at each other.” They laughed, and Michal grew more serious again. “You’ve given me some things to think about. Some assumptions … I guess I’ve always had.”
“I think that’s what a good class does. Makes you evaluate why you believe what you do. You throw out what’s mere assumption. Keep what’s right—but you know why it’s worth keeping.”
Michal leaned in close to him, whispering conspiratorially, “Some people would say that’s dangerous.”
Allistair laughed and reached out to guide her through the gym doors. “I don’t doubt that. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accused of being dangerous.”
Walking into the gym, they were immediately assaulted with its unique ambiance: the exuberant, raucous crowd, several calling out greetings to Allistair, cheerleaders shouting, the loud strains from the pep band. As they scanned the bleachers for a place to sit, Michal couldn’t miss the comments and looks she and Allistair were attracting. Several students noticeably elbowed friends, igniting conversations and even some openmouthed stares. Her date with Allistair was eliciting a gossip frenzy. She squirmed—emotionally and physically—beneath the obvious scrutiny. Like it or not, Michal was suddenly and totally on view.
Once they’d settled into seats, Michal shouted to be heard over the roar of the crowd, “So, were your comments a sneak preview of sophomore theology classes?” Gazing at his profile, she watched a smile slowly materialize. It struck her how much she enjoyed making that happen.
He turned to face her, beaming now. “Absolutely. Might have to charge you for it, though.”
“No way. Previews are always free. And besides, I’m still debating if I accept your do-over.”
“You mean I’m not forgiven?”
But Michal’s answer was lost in the din as the players ran onto the co
urt, the band began playing the school’s fight song, and the crowd’s cheering went up yet another decibel. The students rose to their feet, and Allistair and Michal’s conversation from then until halftime focused on the refereeing and the opponents—how they clearly deserved to lose, though the smattering of fans on the opposite side of the gymnasium would’ve violently disagreed.
By the time the players ran off the court, the score was thirty-eight to thirty-five, Wildcats. Home fans—happy to be in the lead, at least for the time being—began spilling out of the bleachers, eager to visit the snack bar and chat with friends. Only one day remained before spring break officially began, and their enthusiasm was riding high, even without the added adrenaline rush of the game.
Allistair turned to Michal. “I’m dying of thirst. Too much shouting, I suppose.”
Michal nodded her head in agreement. “I can’t remember the last time I yelled this much. Feels good.”
“Great for stress relief, isn’t it? How about a soda?”
“Sounds great.”
Allistair held out a hand to help her down the bleachers, and Michal gladly accepted; the borrowed wedge sandals from Jessica were awkward to walk in, a real nuisance in her opinion. But the moment she gripped Allistair’s hand, she felt what seemed like butterflies flitting around in her stomach. Her small hand seemed to nearly burn in Allistair’s much larger, stronger one. Once safely on the gym floor, Allistair released her, motioning toward the snack bar. As they made their way through the throng of students, Michal could only think about how much she wished he were still holding her hand.
He steered her toward an empty table and held the chair as she sat down. “What kind of soda?”
“Hmm, grape, please.”
He laughed. “Living on the wild side tonight, eh? Anything else? Pizza? A hamburger or hot dog? Chips?”
“Oh, no. Thanks, Allistair. Just a grape soda would be wonderful.”
Michal stared at his back as he worked his way across the room. Others also watched his progression and pointedly turned to look at her. Feeling uncomfortably scrutinized again, she began examining one of her nails. Accompanied by a stern conversation with herself. You won’t be going out with Allistair again. So don’t make too much of his attention. That unreal butterfly stuff.
A small but insistent voice argued back. But he’s so easy to talk with. He laughs easily like I do. We could just see each other occasionally. What’s wrong with that?
The sound of Allistair’s voice pulled her from the covert bickering. He was laughing with another senior, a lovely girl who was poised, golden-haired, confident, and gifted with a beautiful voice, evidenced by many solos in chapel. Michal noted that Tiffany Smith was everything she was not. “Tiffany, this is Michal McHenry. Michal, meet Tiffany Smith.”
Elegantly flipping her hair over her shoulder, Tiffany graced Michal with a smile that resembled a sneer. “Allistair and I met at tryouts for singing ensembles. We were the only two freshmen to make the top McMaster’s ministry team.”
Tiffany stared at Michal, one eyebrow raised, silent, waiting for the compliment. Instead, Allistair spoke. “Really? I don’t remember that.” He handed Michal her drink and a large-sized chocolate candy bar. “Well, good to see you, Tiff. Enjoy the game.” Abruptly turning his back on Tiffany, he sat down facing Michal.
But Tiffany wasn’t about to be dismissed. Resting her hand on Allistair’s shoulder, she added, “If I don’t see you tomorrow in class, I’ll see you on the bus.” She met Michal’s eyes, eyebrow lifted again. “Allistair and I will be road mates for the next week. Spending each and every day together, cooped up in that ratty ole bus. Giving concert after concert. At least we’re going to the beach, too.”
Allistair focused his attention on unwrapping his candy bar.
“Well, enjoy the game. I need to go pack.” She patted Allistair’s shoulder familiarly. Michal took it in, wide-eyed. “Good to meet you, Melissa.”
“Michal,” Allistair corrected, before Michal could utter anything. And then he looked up at Michal, eyes crossed. She stifled a laugh by coughing into her napkin.
“Oh, so sorry. Guess I’m not used to calling a girl by a boy’s name. See you Saturday, Allistair.” Tiffany turned on her heel and wove her way through the tables. Several guys turned their heads to follow her progress, but Allistair was not among them.
He leaned closer to Michal, whispering through clenched teeth, “She drives me insane. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t made that first team. Haven’t been able to get rid of her since.”
“But she’s—”
“Obnoxious. Stuck-up. And by the way, I took a chance you’d like a candy bar.” He grinned, noting it was already devoured, that she had some chocolate on her bottom lip and one finger in her mouth. “I take it you do? Did?”
Conscious that she was caught licking her fingers like a child, Michal blushed. “Oh, yeah. Thank you, that was really thoughtful. Actually, I love any kind of chocolate.”
“Never would’ve guessed,” he teased. “Any kind? No preferences at all?”
“None. We so rarely had chocolate in Ethiopia that … well, let’s just say it’s the ultimate treat.”
“Yeah? I’ll remember that. Might need to bribe you sometime.” He stood up, stretching. “Ready for the second half?”
Michal glanced enviously at the crowd milling toward the gym. “Allistair, I hope you don’t mind. But I think I’d better go review again for my exam.” A hint of disappointment glinted in his eyes and his smile began to disappear, so she rushed on before her resolve waned, “But I’ve had a wonderful time. It was a great break from studying. And I don’t want you to miss any of the game. I’ll walk back to the dorm by myself.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Please. I’d feel awful if you missed out on the best part of the game.” Allistair was still shaking his head doubtfully when Michal insisted, “Please, Allistair. I’ll be fine.” She held out her hand to shake his, which he took, giving her a somewhat puzzled look. “And the candy bar was super. Thank you so much. That was a special treat.”
Letting go of Michal’s hand, Allistair pushed his hands into his pockets, peered down at her. “Okay, newbie freshman.” She grinned. “Go study. I’ve heard rumors you’re a great student, a serious one. And I respect that. I sincerely do.”
Shy again, Michal looked away, muttered, “Well, thanks. My parents are sacrificing a lot for me to be here. I just have to … you know?”
“I do.”
“Well, um. Root for me too, okay? If we lose, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
Allistair flashed that huge smile at her again. “Not the team? Just me, eh?”
They shared one more intimate laugh before Michal raised her hand to wave good-bye. And then she hurried away.
The next day flew by. After her exam, Michal thought she’d earned a strong B if not the A she’d hoped for. Quizzes in other classes weren’t difficult either, and by the end of the day, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Michal had hugged Beth good-bye. Jessica, Ruth, Jenny, and Samantha had already headed home for spring break, leaving the suite uncharacteristically quiet. Few students remained on campus at this point besides Michal; her bus for Florida didn’t leave until the next morning.
She was leisurely packing when the suite’s phone rang—the resident advisor informing her she had a visitor in the lounge. For a moment, Michal was flustered. She knew Allistair was one of the few students remaining; his team also didn’t leave until morning. But when she entered the lounge, she was relieved, and intrigued, to see the familiar hunched form sprawled on the couch, clicking the remote.
“What is it with men and remote controls?” she teased. “And not watching one channel for more than two seconds?”
Stephen stood, and the smile and dimples flashed agai
n, sending a quick stab to her heart. “Hey, Michal. Someone told me you’d still be here. Hope you don’t mind me bothering you?”
“Oh no, not at all. I’m glad for the company. Will you be here until tomorrow morning too?”
“No, actually, I leave in about ten minutes.”
“Oh, okay.”
Stephen plopped back down, his gangly legs and big feet stretched out before him. Michal sat too, making sure she was a discreet distance away.
Both were quiet, awkward—not knowing what to say. And then they both began to speak at exactly the same time … laughed at their bungling … and quieted again. Finally, Michal ventured, “Was there something you wanted to tell me? Ask me?”
“Um, no. Well, are you looking forward to spring break?”
“Oh, yes. I’m going to my Aunt Sarah’s. In Fort Myers. Florida.” She rushed to add, “Of course you knew that. That Fort Myers is in Florida, I mean.”
Stephen smiled and she felt the tickle in the pit of her stomach; the butterflies were back.
“Oh. Yeah, I did. But I didn’t … I mean, I didn’t know you were going. Or that your aunt lived there.”
“Yeah. She does live … there.” Why is this so hard, Michal wondered, when it was so easy to talk with Allistair last night? “How about you?”
“What’s that?”
“Where are you going for break?”
“Oh. Just home.” Michal inclined her head toward him, and he caught the clue. “Ohio. Bay Village, to be exact.”
“Doing anything special?”
“Nope. Don’t think so.” Stephen glanced at his watch, and Michal saw it was a computer type, very studious looking. She was impressed.
“Time to go?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” He stood, awkward again. “I just um … wanted to say good-bye. See you when we get back?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”
Michal followed behind him, walking toward the door when suddenly Stephen stopped and turned toward her. But she never guessed what was coming, didn’t anticipate his intention to put his arms around her, pulling her roughly toward him. Before she could even take a quick breath, he’d planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her lips.
Bridge to a Distant Star Page 24
