Bridge to a Distant Star by Carolyn Williford Page B

think I need … I think I do need some time away to think.”
    Suddenly it was vitally important that Bill understand. “Do you … can you understand at all what I’m feeling? Because it’s like … like I thought I offered myself to God years ago. But I never thought I was worth anything, really.” She searched his face for understanding. “It wasn’t an offering at all, Bill, because I judged I never had anything to give. I want to find … somewhere within me … some worth that means I really am giving God something. That’s sacrifice. That’s a denial.” She shook her head. “Am I making any sense at all?”
    He nodded. “Yeah, a little.”
    “Could I—?”
    Bill raised his eyebrows, fear still clouding his eyes.
    “If I could just go to the beach for a few days. To get some perspective.” Maureen ran fingers through her hair and then closed her eyes. “I learned something recently.” She chuckled and then shook her head. “You’re probably going to think this is just weird but, well, it’s about this phenomenon called averted vision. It’s when you try to look at a star and—”
    “You can’t see it, looking at it directly. I read about it, years ago when I was into astronomy and had that telescope. Some stars you can see only when you look away, and then use your peripheral vision, right?”
    She hesitated.
    “What, Mo?”
    “You’ll think it’s silly.”
    Bill reached for her hand. Squeezed it gently. “So give me a try.”
    Maureen took a deep breath. “That’s a perfect illustration of how I’ve viewed God and me—like I’m that star. Not worthy of being seen in God’s direct vision. I’m just in his peripheral vision  … and that’s all I’m …” Her voice trailed off and Bill watched silent tears fall down freckled cheeks. He reached up to wipe one away.
    “You’re not, Mo. Never were. But no one can convince you of that but you, yourself, with God’s help.”
    She nodded, and then, heart pounding, turned away from his steady gaze, avoiding meeting his eyes. “When I got to the back door tonight, I saw you three laughing together, having such a good time. I thought … I realized how happy you were without me.” Her voice broke then and she could hardly breathe, needed to take a gulp of air before continuing, “And that you wouldn’t … that you didn’t want—”
    Bill gently put his hand over her mouth, silencing her. “I love you so much, Mo. So do the girls. And we need you. You have to believe that. Please say you believe me.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Where do you want to go? To get away?”
    “Sanibel Island? It’s away, but not too far. I’m thinking a long weekend. Colleen has school on Friday and Monday, of course, so she’d better stay here with you. But if I take Aubrey with me, then you don’t have the problem of a sitter for those days—and it gives you some father-daughter time for just you and Colleen. Think you two would enjoy that?”
    “I can’t speak for Colleen, considering how … special she’s been lately. But I think it might be fun. What weekend are you thinking about?”
    “How about if we leave this Friday morning? We’d be home by Monday afternoon.” She could feel his body stiffen again. “What is it?—something’s wrong. Bill?”
    “I just need to hear you say … once more. That you’ll come back to me.”
    She put a finger against his cheek. “I promise you—” A memory suddenly came to mind, and she smiled up at him. “Long ago you said that what you first noticed about me was my eyes—that they sparkled. That I dazzled you.”
    Bill grinned back at her. “One of my best lines ever.”
    “Those sparkles will come home to you. I promise.”
    He took her in his arms, relishing the feel of her body against his. “Got another good line for you,” Bill began, chuckling. “You know the banker’s terminology bridge loan? Maybe God’s love is like that while we’re on earth. His love is the bridge loan