Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [122]
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