Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [112]
“You see, hearing you cry brought back memories of their own pain. And then they just hurt all the more, knowing your suffering personally like they did. And the more you fought going, the greater their hurt. So in desperation, they threw out whatever would hopefully just make the pain stop. They never meant to be cruel, Michal. Never.” Sarah reached over to put her hand on top of Michal’s, where she tenderly rubbed the soft skin.
“Don’t make a decision about returning to Ethiopia out of guilt or expectation, Michal. And don’t run there in an attempt to escape from life—like I did. If you seek God, he will reveal his call for you. In his time. In his way.” She reached up to smooth a stray curl from Michal’s cheek. Tucked it behind an ear. “Can you trust in that?”
“Uh-huh. I think so.”
“We’d best get back. Going to be dark soon.”
Reluctantly, Michal followed Sarah’s lead as they headed back toward the car. “A friend of mine used to say that a walk on the beach is never long enough,” Sarah mused. “She was so right.”
Typical of holidays, the remainder of the week flew by all too quickly for Michal. She and Sarah enjoyed doing whatever struck their fancy on any particular day. They spent more time on their boogie boards, but they also shopped at quaint little stores along the beach. They visited Sanibel Island to look for better shells, and browsed the farmer’s market. And they spent a couple afternoons simply going on road trips—Sarah allowing Michal to drive the Corvette.
Though Sarah had gently probed about the young men in her life, Michal evaded the topic. Just the slightest mental drifting back to school instantly brought the images of Allistair and Stephen clearly to mind, making her stomach tighten in a knot. She felt near panic when she tried to understand her feelings toward either of the two, and any memories of the kiss produced a shiver that traveled down her spine.
They were enjoying a leisurely dinner in the Florida room the evening before Michal’s departure when Michal felt a sense of urgency, realizing this was her last chance to broach the subject of men.
“Aunt Sarah?”
It was that tone again, and Sarah recognized it immediately. The veiled attempt to sound casual, as if discussing something of no real significance. Michal had used it to introduce professors’ comments in class, her relationships with Beth and her siblings, and their continuing discussions about Ethiopia. Sarah smiled inwardly. “Hmm?”
They’d finished the chocolate ice cream that evening, a fitting finale for the week. Michal dawdled over the small amount left in her bowl, making it last as long as she could. “I wanted … um, to ask you about something. It’s just something silly.” Sarah resisted the temptation to jump into the silence. “There’s these two guys.”
“Uh-huh?”
“One’s name is Stephen.”
“I think you mentioned him earlier this week.”
“He’s really serious about his studies. Like I am.”
“That’s good. Shows responsibility and maturity.”
“Yeah. But there’s also this other guy …”
“Ha. There’s the rub.”
“His name’s Allistair.”
“Quite a name to live up to.”
“He’s a senior. And student body president.”
“Definitely interesting.”
Michal smiled. “And he … he’s not at all what I thought he’d be like, Aunt Sarah. He confuses me. For example. Stephen has one of those serious-looking computer watches. But Allistair wears one with Mickey Mouse on it.”
“Oh? Well, I kind of like the sound of this guy, Michal, with that kind of sense of humor. I’m a Mickey Mouse fan myself, you know.”
Michal smiled but then immediately bit her lip, sobering. “I’m not gonna need to choose between them ’cause I just plan to stay friends with both, you know? And besides, until I figure out what God wants me to do …”
Sarah got up out of her chair, motioning for Michal to follow. “Come outside a minute. I want to show you something.”
The pungent smell of the night air assaulted them with a burst of fragrances: jacaranda, gardenia, honeysuckle. The slightly damp yet sweet and salty smell of an evening near the