Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [21]
Maureen paused at Aubrey’s door. It was wide open, the nightlight in the corner casting a soft glow against the light lavender walls. She couldn’t resist the urge to stand there a moment, watching. One arm was thrown casually up over the pillow, the dimpled fingers open, relaxed. Her other hand held Rabbit, tucking the worn toy under her chin.
Walking farther down the hallway to Colleen’s room, Maureen stopped at the closed door and put her hand on the doorknob. She hesitated, debating. Finally she turned it, hoping to find it wasn’t locked against her. The knob easily moved in her hand.
While Aubrey’s positioning had conveyed peaceful sleep, Colleen’s was the exact opposite. Feeling heartache for her daughter, Maureen took in how the covers had been completely tossed aside, the arms that were tensed, both fists clenched. Knees drawn up to her chin in fetal position. A frown drew Colleen’s mouth downward, a deep line creased between her delicate brows. Unhappiness was sleeping there with her.
Maureen pushed the door open a bit farther, and slipped into the room. Knelt by Colleen’s bed where she poured out her heart to God—silently moving her lips, but sometimes falling into whispers in her urgency. She pleaded with God for her daughter’s heart, begging him to forgive her for how she’d failed Colleen. For her hypocrisy and weaknesses and how she hadn’t been the example she desired to be.
Tears had wet her cheeks when she felt a faint touch on her arm. Opening her eyes, it took a moment of adjusting to the dim light from the moon before she saw her daughter staring back at her. Colleen bit her lip, and then blurted out, “Mom?”
“Oh, Colleen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you did, ’cause I was having a nightmare.” She wiped at her nose and then rubbed her eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was. But I know I was really afraid and then—then I heard you.” Colleen paused a moment, and noticeably shivered. “Mom, I’ve felt so awful lately.”
“You’re cold. We’d better get you back under the covers, sweetie.” Colleen allowed Maureen to tuck her in, easing her back onto her pillow and pulling up rumpled sheets and bedspread. Maureen took her time, relishing the moment of peace between them, and then she sat next to her daughter, leaning forward with a hand on either side of Colleen. “Now. You’ve felt awful, how? Are you sick?” Maureen reached toward her forehead to check for a temperature, but Colleen shook her head, dodging.
“No … no, it’s not that. It’s other stuff.” She hesitated and then blurted out, “Mr. and Mrs. Esteban. Are they … are they gonna be okay?”
Maureen leaned back, and sighed. How she wished she could tell her daughter everything would be fine. And that the “good” she hoped to come from all this would protect Colleen from the tentacles of pain that were reaching out, threatening all who knew Emilie. “I don’t know, sweetie. I just don’t know. I do know this, though. That God is still God. He wasn’t surprised by this—like we all were. And he’s still in control, even though it might not seem like it right now.”
“When I heard you talking with Miss Mann—”
“What on earth did you overhear, Colleen? I have no idea what—”
Colleen rushed on, anxious to get it all out now, under the protection of the dark room. “It was a verse from Matthew something, the one about ‘denying yourself and following me.’ You know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I remember discussing that.”
“Miss Mann was talking loud enough for me to hear.”
Maureen smiled. “I remember she was a bit intense. She’d heard a preacher, someone on the radio, I think. Sherry can get pretty excited.”
“She was saying that verse didn’t mean you have to be a doormat.” Colleen bit her lip again. “Mom, don’t take this bad. But sometimes you—”
“What?” Maureen leaned away from Colleen, instinctively braced herself.
“You started using this tone.” She grimaced. “It’s like you’re that icky computerized voice the doctor’s office uses. You know, the one they put on your answering machine to remind you about an appointment?