Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [80]
Preparations and departure went amazingly smoothly, but their plane was late arriving in Tampa; a front of steady rain had moved in, causing delays. Refusing to allow the gloomy weather to dampen their spirits, however, they were all bubbling over with excitement as they climbed into the rental car they’d drive to the beach.
“A Mercedes, Charles? Really?” Fran asked skeptically, though she was grinning at him as he loaded their suitcases into the trunk.
“Absolutely. Only the best for our trip. Charlie, how about if you sit up front with me? You can be my navigator.”
If possible, Charlie’s smile widened even farther. “Sure thing, Dad.”
Charles held the door for Fran as she climbed into the back. He put a hand to his mouth, whispering conspiratorially to Charlie, “You know your mom. She could get us lost in our subdivision.”
“I heard that. But this seat is fine with me. Now I can be a backseat driver.”
They laughed and teased each other as they drove south, relaxed and without a hint of stress or tension—a direct contrast to the unsettling weather. When Charles suddenly became quiet, however, Fran sensed the change. And immediately felt herself go on guard.
“Charlie. I’ve been wanting to say something to you,” Charles began. “When … when I was a child you know that I lost both my mother and father.”
Charlie watched his father intently. Became rigid in his intense concentration.
“And then … then I lost someone else that I dearly loved. And so I’ve been … I’ve been way too hard on you, son. My fears got transferred to you, and that wasn’t fair.” Charles didn’t look at Charlie, but continued to stare out to the road ahead—partly because the weather was so poor. But mostly because of his insecurity and fear of how Charlie would respond.
He swallowed, and with effort, continued, “I am so sorry, Charlie. Will you forgive me for that, son?”
“Sure, Dad,” Charlie replied, as he smiled shyly up at him. “But there’s really nothing to forgive.”
Fran closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of joy as tears slipped down her cheeks.
A huge rumble of thunder shook the car, and Fran jumped, startled. Looking out the window, she searched for a road sign; she’d been so focused on Charles and Charlie that she’d not even noticed—until just then—how bad the weather had become. The rain pounded on the windshield and lightning flashed almost continuously. “Where are we now, Charles?”
Immediately, as though on cue, lightning highlighted the vast beams of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. The simultaneous thunder proved they were thrust into the very heart of the storm—the thunder and the car’s sudden responding jolt sideways. Then, just as quickly, it jerked forward, almost as though a huge, unseen hand had taken control.
“What on earth?” Charles said.
Frustrated that she couldn’t see much of anything out front, Fran turned around to look out the back window. She felt the sensation of launching into nothingness pull her out and away from the road below. Gazing upward, Fran stared off into the distance. Another attempt to bring that same unrecognized something into focus.
Until they plunged into the raging waters beneath them.
Book Three
Follow Me
Mid-March 2009
McMaster’s Bible College, Tennessee
The all-too-familiar feelings assaulted Michal again, bullying her mind back to the rolling hills of Ethiopia. She was six years old then—tall for her age and therefore gangly and awkward, freckled, with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. It was the type of fine hair that would not be contained neatly; wispy locks escaped around her face and neck. Tendrils which tickled and exasperated.
The nauseating fear had attacked first. Creeping over her like an aggressive fog, causing her to break out in a cold sweat and her stomach to feel like it was being turned inside out. Panic was its accomplice, robbing Michal of any capacity for rational thought; she felt paralyzed.
Images flashed like a spastic slide show. The battered brown suitcase, her grip on the handle so