Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [27]
Maureen clamped her jaw shut, willing herself not to react hastily.
“God’s worked a miracle in Ed’s heart, and he’s said he’s sorry. As a Christian, I’m to forgive him. Simple as that.”
“But how can you not …?” Emilie cleared her throat loudly, and Maureen, sensing the indication of unwanted advice, immediately stopped. She’d overstepped her bounds.
Emilie’s voice was icy now. “I would’ve thought you’d only be happy for me, Maureen.”
“Oh, I am, Emilie. I’m really sorry, I was just …” she groped for the right words to say, anything that would heal the ugly break she’d caused in the midst of her friend’s joy. “Oh, Em. I’m just worried for you—that you could get hurt again. Please forgive me if I’ve offended you.”
“I know you want to help, Mo, I really do.” The tension in Emilie’s voice eased, but it was replaced by weariness. “It’s just that everyone has advice for me. And everyone’s way is the right way, you know? The Christian way. Ed and I need to do what’s best for us. Can you understand that?”
“I guess Sherry, Vanessa, and I can be a bit overbearing, huh?”
“You all mean well.”
“Then can you believe I mean well about you and Ed talking with someone? Tell you what.” Some nagging stubbornness pushed her to persist. “Could you just think about it?”
“I’ll tell you why it’s not necessary, Maureen, if you really need to know.” Emilie’s voice broke, her emotions were so close to the surface. “I don’t need a counselor or anyone else to tell me it was my fault, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That everything was my fault because … because I wasn’t the wife that Ed needed me to be. I failed him.”
Maureen started to disagree, but the words caught in her throat, for her own heart convicted her of the same guilt. Aren’t you failing as a mom? As a wife? And only moments ago … you let Emilie down too.
Emilie took in Maureen’s silence. “I knew you thought that. All along I knew you blamed me.”
Too late, Maureen found her voice. “No. I didn’t mean … honestly, you misunderstood, Emilie! I was too busy thinking about my own issues. It’s about … about Colleen and Bill and me … and I couldn’t—I can’t share that.”
“Can’t share what? Why?”
“Because it’s too … it’s just too—”
“Oh, please. You’re embarrassed? While my life is displayed like a tawdry soap opera and everyone’s busy gossiping about me?”
Again Maureen was reminded of the women at the shop and she closed her eyes, attempting to shut out the ugly statements. The cruel laughter. But more so—the void of what she didn’t say in defense of her friend.
“What on earth do you have to be embarrassed about, Maureen? And why couldn’t you confide in me—your closest friend—or at least, I thought so?”
“Emilie, you are my best friend. And I was—”
But Emilie hammered on as though Maureen hadn’t uttered a word. “Let me guess: It would’ve unmasked you, right? Couldn’t have Maureen looking bad, now could we? Besides, whatever you were dealing with, it sure didn’t look as nasty compared to poor ole Emilie, huh? I’m sure you were too busy helping me too, judging me and mine. Even you.”
“Oh, Emilie, no. I wasn’t … I didn’t mean that.”
“I think I’d better go, Maureen. I’ve already said far too much. And tell you what. How ’bout you try to find a smidgen of happiness for me before we meet for lunch tomorrow. Could you do that for me? Bye.”
“Emilie, wait—please let me try to explain.” But she heard only the harsh finality of the dial tone.
She had just sat down in the kitchen, morosely putting head in hands when the phone rang again. Eagerly she grabbed it, hoping it might be Emilie calling back to patch things up.
“Em?”
“No, sorry to disappoint you.” Bill’s voice fortunately revealed only humor.
“Oh, hi, honey. I had a … well, a strained conversation with Emilie a few minutes ago. I was hoping it was her again … that we could … well, fix things.”
“Sorry