Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [110]
Michal grinned. “Absolutely.”
Sarah pointed to Michal’s bowl. “Then make sure you get every remaining drop of ice cream and let’s get at it, shall we?”
The nightmare came again that evening, but it seemed to last all night long, with scenes unfolding like acts in a play. Saying good-bye. Boarding school. Administrators blaming Michal for being so miserable. The nausea flushed over her, and her eyes opened wide.
Why did I think the nightmares wouldn’t follow me here? She allowed tears to come. Until I settle this completely—either I’m going back to Ethiopia, or I’m not—I’m not going to have any peace in my heart. Or peace from these nightmares.
By the time she joined Sarah for breakfast, Michal had washed away any evidence of tears, greeting her with a cheery, “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Michal. Sleep well?”
Michal’s only answer was to reach for her aunt, giving her a hug. Sarah had been holding a cup of hot tea, but she instantly put it down, giving Michal her full attention.
“Another nightmare?”
“Uh-huh.”
Sarah tightened her hold on Michal.
Later, after settling in at the beach, Michal and Sarah were only slightly disappointed to find the waves quite tame. So after lunch, they happily settled in the sand to read, followed by naps. The ease of that afternoon reminded Michal of floating on a raft on a gentle creek. They returned home to shower and change for dinner at a seafood restaurant and a walk on the beach at dusk.
Upon reaching the sand, both slipped off sandals, allowing their feet to luxuriate in its cool softness.
They strolled along, Michal next to the shore, her feet almost constantly in the soothing water. Sarah beside her, an exuberant wave sometimes bathing her feet too. Every once in a while one of them would lean over to inspect a shell. If deemed worthy, it was shown to the other, shoved into a pocket for safekeeping. The next week—long after Michal had removed the collected shells—she would reach into that pocket to search for a tissue. And find grains of sand there.
Sarah spoke into the sound of the waves hitting the shore, her voice matching the calm rhythm of the sea. “I need to speak with you about something, Michal.”
Instantly attuned to her aunt’s serious tone, Michal stopped, cringing inwardly. “Did I do something—”
“No, no. This is about me. Something that I’ve never told you.” Sarah took a deep breath. “Something you deserve to hear.” She began walking slowly again, and Michal matched her pace.
“Your questions have … have been hard because they’ve struck so close to my heart.” Sarah glanced over at Michal, a surprising shyness about her now. “I’d just finished a master’s degree when I fell in love. Oh, my. I was so in love.”
Michal looked at her with wonder. “Who was he?”
“Oh, his name doesn’t matter, since it was a stuffy family name, one he was really kind of embarrassed by. But from the moment I first met him, I called him CK.” Sarah smiled, wistfully.
“Was he handsome?”
“Oh, my, was he ever. Tall, head full of dark curls, one of those jaws like Kirk Douglas.” To Michal’s blank look, she said, “Of course you wouldn’t know him. Well … CK was incredibly handsome. Take my word for it, okay?”
“What was he like? Did he make you laugh?”
Sarah dug a big toe into a pile of shells, drawing out the story. Clearly enjoying Michal’s intense interest. “He was … he was a man of such integrity, an attorney. A prosecutor. I’d go to court just to watch him.” She sought Michal’s eyes then, for hers were lit with a glow—the glow of love that was still there, after all these years, Michal realized. “And yes, how he could made me laugh. Like the time he tripped and fell into a mud puddle. And then just sat there, splashing like a child, saying, ‘Might as well enjoy it since I’m already a drenched mess.’” Sarah laughed out loud at the memory, and Michal laughed right along with her.
“But I fell in love with his heart, Michal—his heart for God, for people. For his son.”
“His son?”
“CK’s first wife died in childbirth.