The Secret Life of Daydreams (18 page)

And now he wanted to talk to her.

She typed a reply.
I’m leaving for the beach with Margarida and Paulo this morning. Maybe in the evening?

Which beach?

Amorosa Beach in Viana do Castelo.

His reply didn’t come right away. Sofia looked at the phone for a few minutes and when nothing more showed on the small screen, she pocketed the phone and left her bedroom. The doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it.

“Bom dia, Nurse Antónia. Please, come in.”

“Bom dia, Sofia. How are you today?

“Bem, obrigada.” Sofia closed the door behind the nurse and led her to the living room.

Nurse Antónia stopped at the entrance to observe Mother. “And Mother, how is she doing today?”

Sofia lowered her voice. “She’s not reacting well to my leaving.”

“She’ll be fine.” Nurse Antónia walked to Mother and knelt in front of her. “Dona Manuela, como está hoje?” She turned her head to Sofia and gave her a nod.

Sofia nodded back then grabbed her wallet and left, tamping down the little twinge of guilt before it grew larger.

There was a calmness to the ocean that invited introspection. The lulling of the waves, the smell of salt and water, the sandy roughness under her feet. Sofia walked along the surf, past the rows of blue-and-white striped canvas huts, their flaps blowing in the breeze, her mind labeling the responsibilities of her life.

After having lunch and playing, Paulo and Margarida, along with the baby, had stayed behind to rest under the shade of a large parasol. Despite the crowds, Sofia was glad she had come. The waves had a slight edge as they imploded in white foamy crests, and the blue of the water was the same tone as Josh’s eyes. Almost.

Everything reminded her of him. As if she didn’t have a mother, a job, and her studies to think about. But the more she tried to ban him from her thoughts, the more her mind wandered to him, to the moments they’d spent together, to the conversations between them. Had she imagined the delicate connection that grew stronger every time they met?

The cell phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a text from Josh.

Where are you?

Still at the beach.

I just got here. Can we meet?

Sofia stared at her phone for a moment.
You’re here at the Amorosa Beach?

I called Paulo and found out where you guys were going. I had to clear my schedule before I left but I’m here now.

How crazy and unexpected was this? Josh had followed her to the beach.
Yes, meet me at the top of the far-most north stairs to the boardwalk.

Okay, give me a few minutes.

Sofia walked toward the wooden staircase and sat on a step halfway up while she waited for Josh. She sent a message to Margarida.
Josh is here. He’s asked me to meet him.

Paulo told me. Will you be okay?

Yes, I’ll be fine.

Okay. Keep me posted.

When Sofia raised her head to scan the beach, her eyes easily fell on Josh, being much taller than those around him. He walked in her direction, barefoot, and his pants rolled up to just below the knee.

For a few moments, before he noticed her, Sofia watched him freely. His confident walk and the way he carried himself spoke of his self-assurance and candid personality. She’d witnessed before how people reacted favorably to him and his work at the drop of an open smile and a few kind words. This was the one side of Josh that he let others see.

And then there was the other side of him, darker and deeper, where pain resided and hopelessness ruled. Sofia had glimpsed that side and wished to know the key to emptying that part of him, to let the healing begin.

As he approached, Sofia rose from the stairs and waved an arm at him. His face relaxed into a smile so genuine and bright that her heart skipped a beat, startled at the warmth and depth of her feelings for him. There was a look of longing in his expression, something akin to her own, strong with resolve and timid in its hope. Josh returned the wave, his eyes locked on her and his smile unwavering, and Sofia brought a hand over her chest, in a vain attempt to calm the pounding in her heart.

When he reached the staircase, he grabbed the railing and quickly climbed the few steps separating them. “Sofia.”

“Olá, Josh.” As she stood smiling and waiting for him to say something, Josh leaned closer and brushed a beijinho on her left cheek. It was the wrong cheek and only one beijinho instead of two, but it didn’t matter to Sofia that his Portuguese greetings needed some correction. It was unexpected and delightful and it had to mean something that Josh was the one who initiated it. It had to mean something.

The contact was brief and she held herself back from taking a deep breath as the woodsy scent of his aftershave filled her senses, the scent she’d come to think of as Josh’s. For a short moment, she didn’t know what to say as her mind wandered with possibilities she’d long thought lost. When someone descending the stairs bumped into her, Josh gestured to the beach.

“Can we go for a walk?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s go.” Anything was better than standing there, making a fool of herself.

They set off walking side by side and Josh adjusted his pacing to hers. “I just returned from Madrid yesterday.”

“Margarida told me.”

He passed a hand behind his neck. “I meant to send you a text, but it got real busy as soon as I got there.”

Sofia bent to pick a small seashell. “How did it go?”

“It went well. Fun wedding.” He hesitated for a second. “Look, Sofia, I’m sorry for what happened on Saturday.”

Sofia slowed down her pace and half-turned to him. “No, I’m the one who needs to apologize.” She held a hand up when Josh shook his head. “I had no right to pry into your life in that manner. I’m surprised you’re even talking to me. I thought you were so angry.”

Josh’s expression softened. “I was angry for a little while. But I had some time to think about it, and I know you meant well.”

They climbed the concrete stairs near the pontão and sat down, overlooking the ocean.

Sofia tucked her stray hair behind her hear. “Even if my intentions were good, they don’t excuse my interference.”

Josh held a hand up between them. “Let’s just start over and be friends, and respect each other’s pasts.”

Sofia raised an eyebrow. “What kind of friendship is that? If we’re friends, we stay in each other’s business.” How could you be a good friend to anyone without some degree of prying? Maybe Americans did it differently, but to her, friendship meant sharing, problems and snooping included.

Josh laughed. “Spoken like a true Portuguese.” He quickly corrected, “I mean it as a compliment, I promise.” He extended his hand once more, and his eyes locked on her. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Sofia slipped her hand into his, relishing the skin-to-skin contact, and the feel of his strong fingers holding hers. “Friends,” she said.

Josh’s smile slipped a little. “Friends.”

There. That little flutter in the pit of her stomach confirming what Sofia already knew—this was more than just a handshake. So much more. She swallowed.

Sofia’s cell phone rang. Josh gave her hand a squeeze before letting go of her.

“Está?” She answered and listened for a minute then hung up. “That was Margarida. She and Paulo are leaving. Amélia is not feeling well.” She stood.

“Lead the way.” Josh followed Sofia.

Paulo and Margarida had begun packing when Josh and Sofia arrived. Amélia sat on a beach towel. She whimpered, and Sofia took her in her arms. The baby rubbed her eyes and yawned.

Margarida packed the diaper bag. “Amélia is cranky, and I forgot the teething drops.” She gestured at the large bag. “You’d think I’d have a small tube in here, but no such luck. But she had a grand time, didn’t you, baby?” She ducked in front of her daughter and smiled. The baby attempted a grin, but soon went back to the low whimpering.

Margarida sighed, and finished her packing. “She’s had enough for today and we need to head home.” She rose and patted Sofia on the shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean you have to.” She looked from Sofia to Josh with a little smile on her face.

Sofia knew that smile. Margarida was the best example of a friend who didn’t leave her friend’s business alone. In Margarida’s world, interfering was a sign of affection, and she was a very affectionate friend.

* * *

What was it about this girl that kept Josh wanting to be close to her? He glanced in her direction, splitting his attention between the road and Sofia’s profile.

Less than a week ago, he’d left town because Sofia had pushed him to think of issues he didn’t want to confront. He’d driven three hundred miles out of the country to clear his head, only to end up shooting a wedding in the shadow of the Madrid temple. Wasn’t there a story in the Old Testament similar to this, about a guy who ran away from his problems only to have more problems thrown at him? What a way to sober Josh from his little tantrum.

And here he was now, not even a day after returning, and he’d had to see her, had to spend time with her. After leaving the beach, they stopped in the city of Viana do Castelo and visited another Catholic landmark, Santa Luzia. The view from the pinnacle had been worth climbing the hundreds of steps to the top, and Josh had photographed another 360º panoramic image, this one between the land and sea.

Instead of taking the highway back to Braga, they drove the country roads, passing villages and groves of pine trees and stretches of fields green with sprouts. Mile by mile, northern Portugal in the spring was coming to have a particular meaning to him.

But how special could a place really be without the right company? One day, when he looked back at this time, it wouldn’t be the azure of the skies or the sharpness in the salty air that he remembered, but the gentle scent of blooming flowers Sofia wore and the warmth in her eyes when she smiled at him.

When Sofia suggested finding a place for a late lunch, they stopped at a roadside village, and under the shade of a centuries-old oak tree tucked away in a side park off the main square, they sat and talked and ate until the sandwiches were gone. The conversation veered to childhood memories and to Josh’s family vacations with his parents and siblings.

“You had a happy childhood,” Sofia said, the wistfulness in her voice making him pause.

“I guess I did.” Josh had never really given it much thought. “It’s so easy to take things for granted when you’re living in the moments, isn’t it?” The simplicity of those times called to him with a bittersweet undertone. “And you? How did you spend your summers?”

Sofia sat up and straightened her back. She gestured toward the east. “There’s a village in that direction. Santa Marta do Portuzelo. My father’s older sister lived there and I spent some summers with her, but it’s been years and years since I came this way.”

You should take her.
The feeling came to Josh and its clarity surprised him. “Do you remember how to get there?” When was the last time he’d listened to his feelings?

Sofia’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Her reaction was immediate and not what Josh had expected. “Maybe we could drive by there.”

She cast down her eyes. The breeze played with the loose curls around her face, and her messy braid softened the slightly anxious look in her eyes. What kind of story did Sofia have? More and more, it was harder to ignore the little feeling that pushed him to know all he could about her.

“Did you not like your aunt?”

A melancholic smile tugged at her lips. “I loved my aunt. Some of my best memories were spent with her.”

“Is your aunt’s house still standing?”

She nodded. “It should be. It was a stone house.”

For some reason, Josh couldn’t let it be. “What would you say if we drove by?” He wanted to get to the bottom of her reluctance, and not just for his curiosity.

Sofia pulled out her phone and looked at the screen for a moment. Then she raised her eyes to Josh and smiled. “No messages means everything’s going well, right? I’d say—let’s go.”

Sofia clasped her fingers one more time. Why was she so nervous at the prospect of going back to Tia Joana’s house? When Josh had suggested a visit, she’d wanted to say no. But that didn’t make any sense, and she’d agreed to go instead. How many times had she dreamt of going back to Quinta do Souto in the years after Tia Joana’s passing? And now here she was. The weird dream about Tia Joana and the peas from last week didn’t help her sense of unease.