Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [7]
Fifty years old, a family doctor at a thriving practice, Bill was a natural leader—not only at his office, but also at church, in the community, the girls’ school organizations, even events like a neighborhood pick-up basketball game. His easy assurance, commanding demeanor, and tone of voice made him stand out. People felt safe with Bill and trusted him. They came to him for advice.
“Look, Daddy.” Aubrey grinned up at him now, offering her cheek for a kiss. “I’m helping Mommy get the lettuce clean.” She proudly held out her well-handled—and therefore, rather wilted—piece of lettuce. “Colleen’s mad again but Rabbit and I don’t care. This is more fun.”
Bill turned to study his wife’s profile. He gave Maureen a peck on the cheek. “Hey. So what’s the deal with Colleen?”
Maureen waved off any concern, gesturing with the carrot she was peeling. “Nothing, really. Just the usual teenage stuff. How are things at the office?”
But Bill wasn’t fooled, taking note of the deflection and the telltale set of Maureen’s neck and shoulders. He reached up to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the collar. “Busy. Had several more inexperienced new mothers in today. I’m spending way too much of my time teaching them basics they should already know.”
“Isn’t that why you hired Carrie?”
“Had to let her go today, unfortunately. She just wasn’t getting the job done.” Bill reached out to tug on Aubrey’s ear, distracting her while he snatched a carrot.
“Oh, Bill. So Hailey’s back to picking up all the slack?”
“We all pick up the slack, Mo. And it’s my responsibility to make sure we’re all contributing as needed. Getting the job done.”
An edge had crept into his voice, and once again Maureen was eager to change the subject. “Would you start the grill, please? Once you get your clothes changed?”
“No problem.” He reached out to tug Aubrey’s ear again, eliciting another giggle before he headed down the hall, pausing momentarily at his other daughter’s door. Closed and locked door, as he discovered by attempting to give the handle a turn.
Dinner was strained, echoing the feel of the storm that mostly passed them by, skirting off to the north. It left the evening feeling bereft, the earth wanting what the skies flaunted but denied to give. Except for Aubrey’s chatter, conversations didn’t flow easily, thanks in part to the pointed one-word answers and grunts from Colleen. She ate little, mostly rearranged food on her plate, and asked to be excused as soon as Maureen began clearing the table.
Later, when Bill summoned Colleen for family devotions, she begrudgingly joined them. She’d not been an active participant for weeks, uttering only a word or two when directly questioned. But tonight Colleen amped the protest even higher, for her entire posture was in revolt; she sat rigidly with crossed arms, head pointed down as she stared at her lap. Maureen felt relieved when it was finally time to end with prayer.
Maureen had just tucked Aubrey into bed and closed her bedroom door when she heard Bill calling.
“Mo?”
Maureen leaned heavily against the door, closing her eyes and sighing. She’d hoped to escape it all—Bill included—by heading directly to bed. She wanted to fade into oblivion by watching some mindless television show until she fell asleep. It all felt so overwhelming at this hour. Certainly I can get a better perspective in the morning, she thought, convincing herself that checking in on Colleen wasn’t a good idea and hoping Bill’s call wasn’t regarding anything more difficult than helping him find a mismatched sock.
She reached for toothbrush and paste as Bill leaned against the sink, his back to the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t turn to face her, but she noted the disconcerted frown, the telling twitch along the line of his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
She inched away from him before she asked, “What did you need?”
He turned to face her, inserting his face into her line of vision. “Pretty obvious things aren’t good between you and Colleen. I take