Read Online Bridge to a Distant Star by Carolyn Williford - Free Book Online Page A

volunteering at church and school, and her work at the beads shop all had lists of “to-dos” that at least provided form and purpose. Mentally crossing another thing off the list, she knew these tasks had no more meaning than buying a loaf of bread. But they kept her moving. Doing something.
    Other events had also become routine, despite Maureen’s desperate ( pathetic? she asked and subsequently convicted herself) efforts to prevent their reoccurrence: her own frequent bouts with insomnia (and staring out the window at stars), Colleen’s either silent treatment or open disdain for her mo-ther, Emilie’s steady decline toward depression, the gang’s ineffectual and listless get-togethers, and Maureen’s continued strained relationship with Bill. No matter what she did, it seemed Maureen couldn’t help any of those who appeared to need it most.
    Only Aubrey’s usual delight with a day—any day, no matter how ordinary—provided occasions for Maureen to catch her breath. To get up and think Maybe this will be the day that life changes. A turn to better days is inevitable, isn’t it? Just like the night watchman waits for the morning in the book of Psalms. He trusts the morning will come, eventually.
    Unfortunately, this is not the day that will happen, Maureen thought miserably, staring out at the car bumpers that stretched into the distance for miles. The drive to the shop was, for whatever reason, even worse than usual. Traffic was so backed up that she was creeping forward by mere inches, from block to block, traffic light to traffic light. Tempers flared, horns honked in aggravation and hand motions were in plentiful supply. Feeling short-tempered herself, Maureen’s thoughts drifted back to the heated discussion she and Bill had months ago when she first brought up the subject of “The Job.” How she’d mentioned it mostly on a whim, assuming it would be a fun distraction. Not thinking about the consequences of shuttling Aubrey around, that she’d have considerably less free time. Or that she’d be in the teeth of morning rush hour every time she drove to the shop. Bill had responded skeptically, insinuating it was more than she could handle. And with that gauntlet thrown, suddenly Maureen desperately wanted the job to prove that she could handle it quite well, thank you. Armed with the support and arguments the gang had supplied, Maureen had worn Bill down until he’d given in. But he’d made it abundantly clear he expected it to be a short-lived venture.
    Maureen sighed and her shoulders dropped. With the passing weeks—especially the last few—the novelty of the job had worn off. But how do I quit now without looking like a failure this way also? she asked herself. I refuse to give Bill a reason to be smug. I’ve got to stick it out, no matter how much Jennifer grates on me.
    Jennifer. Her coworker had been a sarcastic nemesis from the moment Maureen admitted she was a Christian. Openly skeptical and even critical, Jennifer never missed an opportunity to point out and gloat over the latest scandals, from the pastor caught at the adult-video store to the wealthy member at First Church who admitted to tax fraud. Jennifer rooted out hypocrisy with a devotion verging on addiction; the more she found, the happier she became. And the more intent she was to root out the next public revelation. It put Maureen constantly on edge, defensive. Carefully choosing every word she uttered, she had vowed to live beyond reproach.
    Finally past the worst of the traffic and onto the short stretch of open road a couple miles from the shop, Maureen granted her building irritation full reign by ignoring the speed limit—which proved disastrous. The second she saw the flashing red and blue lights in her rearview mirror she knew it was too late to hit the brakes. One hundred dollars. Bill’s going to have a fit. Reasoning, pleading, even tears hadn’t guilted the officer into giving her a mere warning. And that meant