It was a strange and sad procession that moved down the hallway. Beth and baby on the stretcher, carried by the now-silent paramedics. Along the sides of the hall, students had gathered in doorways to watch, trying to take in the bizarre scene. Whispers exchanged, wide-eyed glances stolen, conveying curiosity and embarrassment. Others simply stared without hesitation, assessing the situation, pronouncing instant judgment. Some merely shook their heads, silent, not able to absorb the reality before them.
Michal watched for a moment from her own suite’s doorway, indecisive. Exchanged vacant looks with Ruth and Jessica. Samantha and Jenny had retreated to Jenny’s room, where soft crying could be heard. Girls from adjoining suites flocked to Michal, throwing questions at her. Asking and demanding answers she didn’t know, could respond to only with raised shoulders and a shake of her head.
Fending them off, taking one last look at the chaos around her, Michal made a decision. They were just getting ready to go out the main doors when Michal caught up. Reached out to touch Beth’s elbow, making some sort of connection with this person who suddenly felt like a stranger to her.
“Beth, I’m … I’m so sorry.” Tears instantly flooded Michal’s eyes. She felt wretched. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I had no idea. But if you’d told me, I would’ve helped you.” She walked beside the stretcher. Attempting to stay alongside Beth as the paramedics skillfully maneuvered through the doors.
Beth looked up at Michal. Haunted eyes, appallingly white skin, her mouth limply falling open. But no words came out, no explanation. She looked down at the baby in her arms, hugged her closer.
And then they were gone. Michal simply stood there, watching them load her into the ambulance and drive away, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Tears began coursing down Michal’s cheeks until she erupted into sobs. Was oblivious to the other students who gathered in curiosity—many men among them. They pointed, whispered among themselves, speculated.
Michal looked up through her tears to see Allistair standing before her. He touched her lightly on the arm. Softly asked, “Michal, are you okay?”
She shook her head, covering her face with her hands. Felt Allistair pull her into his comforting arms, heard his heart beating against her cheek. He was warm and secure and comforting. For those few moments, some of the crushing pain dissolved away in his embrace.
Finally, he held her away from him so he could see into her face. “Are you okay? I was afraid you were going to pass out for a moment there.”
Michal nodded, attempted to control her sobs. Wiped away the tears from her soaked cheeks. Noted that she’d left a wet spot on Allistair’s shirt, where he’d held her tightly against him. “It’s Beth. She—”
“I heard. You had no idea at all?”
She shook her head, feeling a new surge of tears push at her eyes. “Allistair, how could I not know? And why didn’t she tell me? It’s my fault—my fault it happened this way.”
“Michal, no. You can’t blame yourself. Beth chose to hide her pregnancy—from everyone.” He ran a hand through his hair, tousled and uncombed from just getting out of bed. He’d immediately rushed to her to check how she was handling the crisis. “Cases like this, Michal? They say the pregnant woman is in such deep denial that even she doesn’t admit she’s expecting. So there’s no way she would’ve told you—no matter how close you might be.”
“But how?” She wrapped her arms across her chest, sobbing openly again, and stared up into the dawn of the morning sky. “I didn’t want to see it. That’s the real explanation here. Beth didn’t trust me because I wasn’t trustworthy. And I didn’t want to know the truth, Allistair.”
Michal gave a cynical laugh then, the obvious pain making Allistair wince. “Oh, yeah. Check out spiritual Michal, earnestly seeking God’s will for her life. While my roommate—who’s only inches away from me—is able to hide the fact that she’s giving birth? What a picture of my pathetic life. My roommate’s in agony—and I’m asleep.”
She turned to go back into the dorm, but Allistair grabbed her arm. “Michal, please—please stop blaming yourself. Beth’s responsible for her own choices. This has no bearing on your life … your choices. What God wants you to do.”
Michal boldly turned to face him, her eyes flashing. “Oh, but you’re wrong, Allistair. I think God is speaking to me through this, loud and clear. And now it’s my job to listen. To finally listen.” She resolutely walked away, allowing the door to slam shut behind her.
Walking past groups of women—some reaching out to pat her arm, whispering an “I’ll be praying for you” type of encouragement—Michal said nothing in response. Imagined she felt a burning sensation each time someone touched her. When she entered her suite, the silence—compared to the earlier commotion—was nearly unbearable. Only Ruth remained in the lounge, arms crossed before her, hunched over, staring at the floor. Hearing Michal, she muttered, “I just can’t believe it. How could we not …?”
Michal didn’t respond, closing and locking the door behind her. She nervously glanced around, wondering what she should do. She knew Beth’s bed needed to be stripped. That the sheets and blanket and quilt all needed to be washed. Manual work, using her hands, keeping herself busy, doing something—anything so that she wouldn’t need to think. Making the decision to skip chapel and classes for the entire day, Michal rolled up her sleeves and went to work.
After putting the first of several loads into a washer, she vigorously scrubbed the mattress. Then she tackled the chair in the lounge where Beth had bled, followed by the floor. It wasn’t until Michal was folding Beth’s quilt that she felt the first stab of hunger, heard her stomach grumble in protest. Glancing up at the clock, she was surprised to see it was past dinnertime.
Flopping down on her bed, feeling the effects of the physical work without any food, Michal realized anew how wretched she felt. And how incredibly alone.
A soft knock at her door caused her to jump. “Yes?”
“It’s me. Sam. Jenny, too. Are you all right, Michal?”
Michal took a quick glance in her mirror, wasn’t surprised to see how disheveled she appeared. She was running a hand through her hair when she opened the door.
“Hey.”
“We thought we should give you some space today. Just let you be alone for a while. But then we got worried about you.”
Michal smiled, halfheartedly. “I’m okay.”
“You haven’t eaten anything, have you?” from Ruth.
“No. I just—” And then the tears came again, unbidden. Samantha and Jenny immediately put their arms around her. Ruth and Jessica joined in, and they all clung to each other, weeping, finding consolation in simply being together. They had just settled into comfortable positions in the lounge when the call came for Michal. “You have a visitor in the lounge.”
For a moment, she considered not going. Her guilt was nearly choking her, and she knew instinctively Stephen wouldn’t help. That he could potentially make it even worse. But she stood, resolutely telling herself, I’m submitting to God’s will. Isn’t it about time I really listen?
Ruth grabbed Michal’s arm, forcefully warning, “I don’t think you should … Michal, don’t go to him just now. He’s not … he’s not good for you, can’t you see that?”
Michal laughed the laugh that wasn’t one again. Ruth winced in response. “My Aunt Sarah told me a story about running from life. And you know what? That’s what I’ve been doing—avoiding life. I’m merely a bystander. A cowardly observer. I think it’s about time that I jump in and … begin acknowledging the realities around me. And embrace them.”
“So literally?” Sam muttered under her breath. After a piercing glance from Michal, the room went totally silent.
“I’ll be back soon.” And then Michal stiffened, held up her chin as she walked out.
Stephen was standing by the
door, and instead of his customary removal of his hat and smile, he gave her a reproachful look. “I heard about Beth. Is it really true?”
Michal put her hands in her pockets, stared down at the floor like a guilty child.
“I can’t believe it. How could you not know she was nine months pregnant? That she was having a baby in your room?”
She shrugged. Stammered, “I … I don’t know. I just—”
Stephen took her arm and directed her to the outside door. Pulled Michal out onto a small patio bordered by thick bushes and a strand of trees that provided nearly complete privacy. He walked away from her and paced back, shaking his head the entire time. “This is simply unbelievable, Michal. You need to learn from this. We need to figure out what God’s trying to teach you.” He stopped within inches of her, close enough for Michal to feel his breath on her face. “What do you think that is?”
Michal was instantly intimidated, caught off guard by Stephen’s question. More so, his proximity. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out all day.”
He put his arms tightly around her waist, and she could feel her heart begin to pound. She struggled to breathe, feeling like she couldn’t take in enough air.
“Figure out what?”
“My aunt said finding God’s will isn’t like this little point—something so small that’s hard to find. And if we don’t find that tiny little thing, then we’re out of God’s will and—”
“I don’t think your aunt reads the Bible very much. That’s not what I’ve been taught by lots of preachers.” He tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her even closer. She could smell his scent. Feel the heat of his body pressed against hers and the need to breathe in tandem with him, they were so tightly wedged together.
The combination of not eating, working all day, and her sudden anxiety all combined to make Michal feel nauseous. She attempted to push away from Stephen, pleading, “I don’t think we should be here, Stephen. I don’t want to … please, let’s go back inside, okay?” She attempted to keep her voice lighthearted. Casual. But she was beginning to feel frightened. Of Stephen. And what he intended to do.
“I know this is God’s will for you and me, Michal.” As purposefully laidback as she had attempted to be, Stephen was the exact opposite. His intensity was an autonomous, demanding force. “I’ve been praying about it. You need to trust me more.” He moved one hand up her back, worked it beneath her blouse. The other inched its way up the front.
“Stop it,” she cried, tears stinging her eyes for the second time that day. But as Michal attempted to push him away, she discovered just how strong Stephen actually was.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. And God wants—”
Out of nowhere, it seemed, powerful arms reached out to grab Stephen by the shoulders, lifting him up and throwing him out and away from her. Where he tumbled into the bushes at their feet.
Out of breath from the push of adrenaline, exertion, and fury, Allistair spat at Stephen through clenched jaws, “Now get out of here.” Seething with rage, he added, “And if I ever catch you touching her again … if I ever see you near Michal again … I promise you you’ll regret it forever.” His voice was thick with the threat. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
Stephen nodded, meekly. Scrambled to his feet and ran off, never looking back at either of them.
Michal, crying still, her legs suddenly weak, nearly crumpled to the ground when Allistair reached out to catch her. He held her around the waist, supporting her, but before he could open the door to the lounge, she stopped. Shook her head vehemently. “Don’t. I can’t go back in there yet. I’m just so ashamed.”
“Michal, I never trusted that guy. I’ve been—truthfully, I’ve been keeping an eye on you because I was afraid he’d pull something like this.” He retrieved a rumpled tissue from his back pocket, handed it to her. “Didn’t your father warn you about creeps like him?”
She blew her nose. Shook her head no.
Allistair looked uncomfortable, glancing away from her wounded look. “When I first got the word that you two were … involved … well, I backed off. The first night back after spring break? I was planning to come see you when I heard about … his kissing you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I figured you’d made your decision. But I still felt like I needed to watch out for you. To keep an eye on him. Boy, am I ever glad I did.”
Suddenly aware of his arm around her still, Michal backed away from his touch. “I know now I’ve been wrong about everything, Allistair. I failed my roommate. I thought Stephen was a godly person, the man I was supposed to have in my life.” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, continuing, “And I thought I was this godly woman … a woman who … who was following the Lord’s call back to Africa. What a joke.” Her voice rose hysterically as she backed farther away from Allistair. As though she had an infectious disease, was intent upon preventing his catching it. “I’m the joke here.”
“Michal, you can’t—”
“I know now I’m not fit for the mission field.”
“Please don’t do this, Michal. Don’t make a decision when you’ve just been through two horrible situations. It’s been an unreal day. Promise me you’ll wait and talk with me about all this tomorrow, okay?”
She wavered. Stared into his eyes and wanted. So much. And then, determining to lie—to get away from him before she weakened—she nodded.
Allistair cradled her arm in his hand, gently and patiently guided her in. “Come on. You need to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll meet you tomorrow? Before chapel?”
“Sure.” It gets easier to lie once you start, she thought.
His eyes were so deep, full of concern for her. Once again, she almost gave in. Knew she had to go right away, before she lost the courage to do what she had to.
“Well, good night then, Michal.”
Taking him in, memorizing the wave of his hair, the crystalline blue of his eyes, the strength of the line of his jaw. The question struck her, What would it feel like if Allistair kissed me? She dismissed the wistful musing, but tucked every miniscule and cherished impression into her heart, knowing she would never forget how he looked at her that moment.
“Good night, Allistair.” She started to weep again. And so she turned and fled. Not daring to look back, knowing that if she did, she would fly back into his arms.
The next morning, Ruth rapped on Michal’s door. She’d heard no stirrings from the room and, becoming concerned, tried the knob. Discovered it was unlocked, and opened the door a crack to peek in.
Michal’s bed was bare, the mattress particularly ugly now that it was stripped of the lovely star quilt. Panicking, Ruth checked the desks. Beth’s still had textbooks and various items scattered across it. But Michal’s was completely cleaned off, not even a pencil left behind. Jerking open the closet, Ruth noted Michal’s meager assortment of clothes had vanished—and a drawer yanked open proved her dresser was empty also.
“Sam. Jenny, Jess—come here, quick.”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?”
When they entered the doorway, Ruth merely pointed to Michal’s star quilt. It had been folded neatly and placed on Beth’s bed, along with her other washed sheets, blanket, and the raggedy quilt. Attached to it was a note.
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Beth. I wasn’t the friend you deserved. Remember me when you wrap yourself in Aunt Sarah’s quilt. I know she would’ve wanted you and your baby to have it. Love from Michal.
They looked mournfully at each other, sharing the ache of yet another loss.
Michal sat on the same bus she’d taken to Fort Myers before, though when she boarded this time, the driver noted Michal not for her joyous buoyancy and gregarious nature. Instead, he took in the red-rimmed eyes, her agitation, and how she ducked her h
ead to avoid his eyes as she handed him her already damp, rumpled ticket. And then, pointedly ignoring anyone already seated, Michal hurriedly made her way to the very back seat. Where she slumped down and sat with her forehead resting against the windowpane, staring out with unfocused gaze.
As the driver watched Michal in the rearview mirror, he thought to himself, Another down-’n’-outer, for sure, lookin’ pretty desperate. Wonder what she’s running away from? Or if she’s in trouble? He shook his head and sighed audibly. And it’s such a nasty morning, too. Bad weather … homeless—or worse passengers. I’m not thinkin’ this day is gonna go well. But he turned the key in the ignition, bringing the old bus to sputtering life, intent upon driving his daily route.
Michal sniffed loudly and wiped at her nose with the frayed cuff of a worn sweatshirt. At this point, she was numb, her feelings and thoughts so blurred that she hoped—assumed—sleep would rescue her from any blips of coherency. But then the sharp memory of the pungent smell of Beth’s pooled blood came to mind … the feeling of Stephen’s hands crawling all over her … the look of deep compassion on Allistair’s face … and she nearly cried out loud. Instead, she leaned over, jamming the palms of her hands into her eyes hard enough to create vivid splashes of color against her eyelids. Until the pressure and pain made her stop.
She leaned back against the seat again, willing, insisting that sleep come to her. But as the bus rumbled through the city and ever closer to the bridge, the storm’s increasing intensity would not let her body relax. Instead, the thunder and lightning constantly jostled Michal, causing her to jump every time a particularly close strike highlighted the inside of the bus—acting like a spotlight on her and her alone, it seemed.
When a rumble of thunder and simultaneous flash of lightning felt like they actually pushed the lumbering bus sideways, Michal peered out the window, attempting to see … anything. And then her heart leapt into her throat, for she realized they were beginning to fall—Into the bay? her mind screamed. Or did she cry it out loud? Suddenly, the entire bus erupted with screams of sheer terror. They were falling … people were falling … men, women, children. All tumbling about the bus as it fell headlong into the black depths below.
Bridge to a Distant Star Page 29
