The Secret Life of Daydreams (35 page)

“Well, little brother, let me update you on the family.”

He sorely needed the update. Maybe he should even take notes.

For the first time in a long while, Josh didn’t have any plans of where he was going next or where he’d be staying. But whatever life brought, keeping in contact with his family was a priority he wouldn’t put off any longer.

When Laureanne pulled up to the large house on the east bench, Josh looked up in surprise and Laureanne caught it.

“You didn’t know Craig and I bought Grandpa and Grandma’s house a few years ago, did you?”

Josh gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sure Ashley must have said something.” No wonder Grandpa was living with Laureanne’s family. He was right at home.

She shook her head. “Come on. You’ll be staying in the basement, in the small room.”

The small room was Grandma’s sewing room. He paused and regarded the two-story house, so familiar and yet so different from his childhood memories. “I can go back to town and grab a room somewhere, if that’s easier for everyone.”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room. The younger kids will be sharing the large room and rolling out their sleeping bags.”

Just like they had when they were kids.

She walked around the side of the house and Josh followed. “Besides, everyone wants to see Uncle Josh, the family adventurer.”

Uncle Josh, the family black sheep, was more like it. He let out a deep breath and Laureanne cut him a glance as if she’d heard his thoughts.

Laureanne paused at the door. “Josh, I know this must be overwhelming to you, but we love you and we’re glad to have you back with us. Remember that.” She brought an arm around his shoulders for a quick squeeze and then pushed the door open. “We’re home,” she yelled as she walked down the long hallway.

Josh stepped in. The old house smelled the same, weathered wood, and bread dough in the oven, and cinnamon. He let the scents wash over him. The family saying was that Grandma Conrad had baked so often that even the walls smelled like her baking.

Thank goodness some things never changed.

* * *

The night before had been crazy with so many grownups and children around, and Grandpa had sent down a note asking Josh to meet him in his room at six in the morning.

With his body clock still on Portugal time, Josh slept a few hours and was up early, before the sun crept from behind the mountains. The house was quiet, the laughter and conversation from the night before just echoes now. He grabbed a root beer from the fridge and walked out onto the wide back deck. The mountains hid behind a veil of darkness but the smell of the dew on the dirt, the corn growing in the garden plot, and the pine trees beyond the fence line took him back to the summers he’d spent there as a little boy. A lifetime away.

“You might as well come up,” a male voice said. “No use waiting till six if you’re down there already.”

Josh turned to the voice and looked up. Grandpa sat on a rocker in the bedroom’s balcony, the light from inside drawing his silhouette against the pre-dawn darkness.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring a chair with you and join me out here.”

A few minutes later, Josh bent down and gave Grandpa Conrad a hug. “It’s good to see you, Grandpa.”

Grandpa wore striped pajamas that hung loosely from his narrow shoulders. He looked thinner than the last time Josh had seen him and his hair had lost the rich dark brown of years before.

“So it takes me almost kicking the bucket for you to come see me?” His voice hadn’t changed, strong and with a hint of defiance in his words.

If he could crawl into a little hole, Josh would. “Sorry, Grandpa.” He settled against the chair. “I should have visited more often.”

“Yes, you should have.” Grandpa’s voice took an amused tone. “But at least it brought you home.” He winked and Josh couldn’t help a small smile.

“Why are you up so early, Grandpa? Are you resting well?”

“It’s the darn meds. They make me fall asleep early but then I wake up early too. What’s your reason? Jet lag?”

Josh leaned forward on his elbows. “Yep. It’ll take me a few days to adjust.”

“Still taking pictures?”

Josh nodded. “Still taking pictures.”

“How is that working for you?”

“Really well, Grandpa, and no, I won’t be coming back to the office.” Grandpa had tried to persuade Josh to stay in architecture.

“Where were you this time?”

“In northern Portugal.”

Grandpa’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you get to see people you knew back then?”

Josh rubbed the back of his neck before replying. “Yeah, I did.”

Grandpa rocked in silence for a moment. “What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“The girl you left in Portugal.”

“How do you know I left a girl there?”

“Just a hunch from your old grandpa. Plus, that little pause of yours before you replied, when you rubbed your neck. Your dad still does the same thing when he’s trying to buy time.”

Josh turned his face to look between the trees. In the early-morning gray sky, the mountains were like rough sketches, black and white images waiting for the sun to develop the full color. Everything here was so different from the rounded hills in Braga. There it was, that little pang of saudade, chewing at the sides of his heart.

“Her name is Sofia,” he replied at last. Josh reached for his phone, found his favorite picture of Sofia, and showed it to Grandpa.

“A brown-eyed beauty, she is. And look at all that hair.”

Josh stole a glance at the picture before putting the phone back in his pocket. How he missed those eyes and her soft curly hair. He missed Sofia more than he had ever thought possible.

“What’s the story here? Why do you say her name like that?” Grandpa asked.

Josh’s forehead wrinkled. “Like what?”

“Like your best friend died. So what’s the problem with her? Is she a staunch Catholic or something?”

“No, she’s LDS.” He paused, wrestling with the memories. “I was the one who baptized her eleven years ago, when she was seventeen.”

Grandpa let out a low whistle. “The plot thickens. Is she married?”

“She’s single.”

“Then what’s keeping you apart from her?”

Josh blew out a breath and stood, then clamped his hands on the railing. “She wants to get married in the temple.”

Grandpa’s eyebrows shot up. “And since when is that a problem?”

Josh crossed his arms. “I’ve been away from the church for the past six years, Grandpa. It’s not like they’re gonna let me in with my credit card.” He kicked his shoe against the wooden railing. “Besides, I still have unresolved issues.”

“Unresolved issues, huh? More like excuses.” Grandpa waved a hand in dismissal. “And don’t come tell me you don’t believe anymore because I don’t believe that.”

Did he still believe? He’d kept himself drowned in work and trips and busy enough to avoid thinking about the gospel and its teachings. Ignoring his problems almost made them non-existent, didn’t it?

“Have you been smoking?” Grandpa asked.

Josh glanced at Grandpa. “Of course not.”

Grandpa nodded. “Drinking?”

“I drank a beer four months ago.”

“Coffee?”

“Had a few cups while I was in Portugal.”

“Have you fornicated with anyone since the divorce?”

Josh’s head reared up. “Is that what you think of me, Grandpa?”

Did they all think the same? Did his family believe he’d been living immorally since he left?

Admittedly, Josh had struggled in the beginning. He was a mess after the divorce and, as he had tried to sort through the emotional and psychological wounds, his mind had fought the release of physical temptations. After all, he’d been married for a while and had enjoyed such intimacies. Giving in would have been easy, specially in his fragile state. But letting go of his personal morality and chastity for a few moments of illicit pleasure was not a trade he’d ever consider. It was better to remain lonely and in control than to expose himself to the misery of another failed relationship. In a way, the teachings of the gospel regarding abstinence and fidelity had never left him, despite what his family might think of him.

Grandpa raised a hand. “I better leave the questioning to your bishop.”

“I’m not ready for that.” He didn’t know who his bishop was, if he even had one.

“So you’re telling me that you prefer to continue being miserable.”

Josh crossed his arms. “As opposed to what, Grandpa?” He spoke fast. “What am I supposed to be doing about my miserable life?”

“You tell me, Josh. What do you want from your life? To be happy with the girl you love or keep traveling around until the day you die because you have issues?”

Josh’s impatience grew. “I screwed up, Grandpa! And not just a little bit but a lot. Why should I think I deserve another chance?”

“Everyone deserves another chance, as many as it takes.” Grandpa’s voice softened. “Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean you let that mistake define who you are.”

Josh turned his face toward the first pink streaks rounding the mountains. The morning glow arrived dimly, quietly, before the fanfare of the sun in all its glory inundated the new day.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and Grandpa’s words churned inside him. Did he have the courage to move past his mistakes and take another chance? He’d been running for so long, hiding his heart from everything he knew. After the divorce, breaking the ties was easier and the pain of isolation was his punishment. Staying and rebuilding his life would have hurt even more. How was he supposed to start over when his faith was less than a speckle?

“Your parents aren’t around, or I’d let them set you straight,” Grandpa said. “If I’m pushing it’s because I know you can take it. You’ve just been doing things alone for so long you can’t even see what else is possible. Jesus already paid for your right to have another chance, but you have to reach up and grab it.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” Josh hung his head low and rested his forehead against his fists.

“Yes, you do. The peace will come. You just need to give it a small effort.” Grandpa paused. “And you need to want it. If you don’t want it, you can’t get it.”

“Uncle Josh, Grandpa Sterling!” On the deck below, one of his young teenage nephews waved at them. “Aunt Laureanne and Mom say it’s time for breakfast.”

What was the kid’s name?

Grandpa waved back. “Thanks, Noah, we’ll be right down.” He turned to Josh. “Well, Josh, my boy, did I give you enough to think about?” The trademark Conrad blue eyes glinted at him, tempering the seriousness in his voice.

Josh’s mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. “Yes, Grandpa, I’ve got plenty to think about.”

Sofia put the book down on the bedside table and held Mother’s hand. Mother breathed in slowly, evenly. She’d fallen asleep after the first page, and Sofia had read the whole chapter in the book of John, not only for Mother but for herself as well. Reading from the scriptures aloud, with the cadence of the words and the rhythm of the sentences, lent the calmness Sofia had been missing in her days. She’d learned to take the hour she spent with Mother at the care center as her way to slow down from the daily madness of life.

After working two months at the café, Sofia had been given a full-time schedule. The tips supplemented her salary and the careful budgeting kept her on the right track. If she sold her car and walked or took public transportation, she’d have enough to cover household expenses for the next six months. She visited Mother three times a week and she attended church on Sundays and she worked six days out of seven, keeping her hours full and her mind occupied.

But sometimes at night, alone in bed, Sofia let her heart wander back to the memory of Josh’s arms around her, to the outings and the conversations and the minutes in each other’s company. Their time together had been parceled from the beginning, and Sofia gave it wings in her dreams only, the only place where the alternate ending to their story took life.

When she arrived at home, she locked the door behind her and set the chain. She walked into the living room, where her eyes rested on the large canvas leaning against the far wall. Three days after Josh’s departure, a courier had delivered a box. In it, Sofia had found an art canvas of the Madrid temple and a small printed album with Josh’s favorite pictures of the two of them together, and she couldn’t get enough of either one. The album had a permanent place on her bedside table and the large canvas sat in the living room, the first thing she saw when she entered the apartment and the last when she left each day.