The Secret Life of Daydreams (3 page)

Paulo’s wife entered the room with a tray in her hands, a stack of napkins, a sugar bowl, and four cups on it. Sofia carried a teapot. They set them on the coffee table. Sofia filled a cup and placed it in front of Josh, all the while with a soft smile on her lips, and her eyes divided between her friend and Paulo. When she lifted her eyes to Josh, he was there, waiting, attempting to reconcile the Sofia he used to know with the one in front of him.

She’d been an attractive girl at seventeen. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed. Of course he’d noticed. He was a guy first, then a missionary. An obedient, rule-abiding missionary who followed the mission guidelines and was never tempted to do otherwise. And a twenty-year-old guy who noted pretty girls, even if he couldn’t ask for their phone numbers, let alone invite them out on a date.

The Sofia in front of him had grown into a prettier woman. Not the stop-a-guy-in-his-tracks kind of pretty, but the kind of pretty that caught him by surprise at the second and third looks. Her gentle features and large brown eyes stole at him, willing something inside he hadn’t felt in a long time. His gaze kept straying in her direction and once or twice she blushed when their eyes met.

The cry of a baby reached them from the hallway somewhere.

Margarida rose. “It’s Amélia. I’ll be right back.”

When Sofia motioned to follow her, Margarida stopped her. A few moments later, she called out for Paulo and he excused himself.

Sofia fidgeted with the hands on her lap, then looked down the hall. “She still wakes up a lot during the night.” She leaned forward and crossed her legs. “I mean, the baby. Amélia.”

She talked fast like most Portuguese did. Her anxiety brought a slight smile to his lips. It was some kind of consolation to know the encounter had rattled her as much as it had him. “How old is she now?” He didn’t want Sofia to think he smiled on account of her nervousness.

“Almost a year, and she’s adorable.” Her hands relaxed and her posture lost the straight edge on her shoulders. “Have you met her?” She smiled.

“I only saw her when Paulo sent a birth announcement. She probably looks a little different.”

At Sofia’s chuckle, Josh was relieved to get the reaction he had expected at the observation he made.

“Yes, she does look a little different.” She flicked the end of a braid over her shoulder. Her hand touched a few curls around her face, and she smoothed them down. He remembered her with short, curly hair, sometimes held back with a thin headband or little barrettes to one side.

Paulo’s and his wife’s voices comforted the baby. Outside, the rain washed against the windows less strongly than it had during the day. On the opposite wall, an acrylic painting of the Madrid temple took center stage in the room under a modest row of gallery light bulbs. His eyes came back to rest on Sofia.

“How have you been, Sofia?” Josh looked straight at her, unable to tame the shock of meeting her again in this fashion.

She shifted in her seat, then returned the look, no longer as timid as before. “I’ve been well, thank you.” Her reply in English came with the slight British accent he recalled. “And you?” After her question, she laughed a little and shook her head. “Sorry, but this is just—It’s caught me by surprise.” She leaned back and crossed her ankles. “I’m…a little bit flabbergasted, you could say.”

Her honest confession was the kind of straightforward conversation he appreciated. “I know what you mean. I’m totally shocked as well.” He couldn’t take his eyes from her. “It’s been eleven years.”

“Eleven and half, actually.”

“And do you live in Braga now or are you still in Famalicão?” Josh had never been able to say the name of the town like the locals did, and after all these years he was sure he still butchered the pronunciation.

Sofia pushed the platter of bread and cold meats towards him and he took a slice of bread, then bit the corner.

“I came to Braga after high school.” She placed a piece of cheese on a napkin and held it in her hand while she talked. “I was accepted to the Universidade do Minho, and it made more sense to stay here.”

“What was your major?” Josh took a slice of meat on a toothpick.

“Portuguese and English teaching. And you? I mean, what do you do?”

“I’m a freelance photographer.”

At his answer, Sofia sat up and leaned forward in his direction. “You’re a photographer? Were you downtown yesterday in the afternoon?”

Josh tilted his head. “Yes, I was.”

“I think I passed by you on my way to the parking garage. Did you have this black waterproof thingy over your camera?” Sofia’s hands spread apart to convey the size.

He smiled. “The rain sleeve. It protects the camera and lens when it’s raining.”

“And you wore a blue rain jacket?” He nodded and Sofia smiled. “I wouldn’t have recognized you.” She touched her chin. “The
beard
. It makes you look so different.”

Josh passed a hand along his jaw line. When was the last time he’d shaved his face clean? “It suits the life I lead.” That sounded presumptuous. “Easier to maintain than shaving every morning when I’m traveling,” he added. His mind flickered to the time in his life when going without shaving had become part of the rebellion. Now it was just part of him.

Paulo entered the room, followed by his wife, who carried the baby propped up. Large brown eyes cast a glance around the room. The baby’s cheeks were flushed. She whimpered and made a face when she saw him. Sofia rose and approached them, cooing in Portuguese and smiling at the baby, distracting her from Josh. When Paulo walked to the kitchen, Josh followed.

“Sorry, man. Amélia’s not feeling too well.” He opened a cabinet and drew out a baby bottle, then reached for a container of bottled water and filled it.

“No worries. You do what you have to do.”

They walked back to the living room. Sofia held the baby—who didn’t appear any better but was calm for the time being—on her lap. Margarida took the bottle and offered it to her daughter and Sofia helped guide the little hands around the glass, holding the bottom.

“Maybe we should give her a blessing?” Margarida looked up to Paulo. He shook his head slightly.

Josh caught the exchange between them and turned to the balcony door. This was the awkward part, when friends forgot he didn’t have the right to participate in that kind of business anymore.

The baby pushed the bottle back into Sofia’s hands and Sofia set it on the coffee table. “That sounds like a great idea, doesn’t it, Amélia?” The baby sat with her back against Sofia and Sofia turned her in her lap. “What do you say, bébé? You want a blessing from papá?” She pointed at Josh. “Maybe papá’s friend can help.”

Of course. She didn’t know. Add even more awkwardness. It seemed like a good time to say goodbye. The silence cued him. Paulo glanced at Margarida and in turn she took the baby in her arms and stood. Sofia frowned for a moment and followed her friend, clearly not understanding the situation but too polite to ask in front of him.

“It’s okay, guys. No need to tiptoe around me.” Josh walked behind the sofa towards the foyer. “It’s probably time I go anyway.” He took a step back and extended his hand to Sofia. “It was really good to see you, Sofia.”

“You too, Josh.” Her voice was soft but she held his gaze.

He liked the way his name sounded when she said it.

In the foyer, he donned his jacket and grabbed the umbrella from the stand. “Paulo, I’ll call later in the week.”

Paulo patted him on the back. “You better. We’re expecting you for dinner.”

When the elevator doors closed for the way down, Josh exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe he should have been the one to tell Sofia why he couldn’t help Paulo with a blessing. Not that he owed any explanations to anyone. At least he wouldn’t have to see her too often since he wasn’t planning to attend church in Braga during his short stay. Already there were more surprises than the usual quota he allotted to each trip. And thanks to the rainy weather, he hadn’t even started his project in earnest.

What else was in store?

Sofia woke early. After trying to go back to sleep without any success, she lay for a few minutes. She ought to be sleeping as she had an early morning meeting and more work than usual for a regular Monday. Instead, she couldn’t get out of her mind that Josh hadn’t been in church.

When Paulo had told her and Margarida that Josh couldn’t assist in giving a blessing, she’d wanted to believe that he’d still be attending church to see the growth in the branch that had become a ward. All morning on Sunday her eyes had turned to the front doors every time someone came in. She’d even asked Paulo if Josh knew where they met since the building was new. Paulo had confirmed that he had told him the time and address and had indeed extended an invitation.

But Josh hadn’t come.

Maybe he’d had to work. Sofia ran through all the explanations possible and, in the back of her mind, the idea that Josh Conrad had somehow fallen away from the church couldn’t reconcile with the little she had known of him when he was a missionary. She had borrowed from his spiritual strength until her own was deep enough to grow roots. She remembered the conversations they’d had during the months prior to her being baptized, the concepts he had taught her, the prayers he had said. What could have happened in the eleven years since then to erase that level of devotion and commitment?

Her hand brushed against the pendant around her neck, the one that Josh had given her on her baptism day. It was the Young Women’s logo on a gold-plated chain. He’d come to her after her confirmation, a flush to his cheeks and a less confident speech than usual, telling her how it was a gift from his younger sister, who had read about Sofia in his letters home. His sister had written a few words on a card, encouraging Sofia to attend the Young Women’s meetings and be at church every Sunday. She had since replaced the chain with a solid gold one, and she still wore it. It had been a long time since she’d thought of that moment, and of Josh’s words. Those words had carried her through some hard times, and had helped her hang on to the truth when everything else around her had been opposition.

If she was honest with herself, Sofia would admit she’d had a crush on Josh back then. He was only a few years older than her, and an attractive guy who spoke Portuguese with an adorable accent. They’d explained to her how the missionaries were like priests while they served for two years on their missions but that hadn’t stopped her from admiring his level of spirituality, his intelligence, and the deep dimples when he smiled. And the blue, blue eyes. The dimples hid behind that thick beard he now wore and the eyes, though still the same brilliant hue, were more like those of a stranger than an old friend.

As curious as Sofia was about the new Josh, it was better to stay away. She didn’t have any right to ask about the past eleven years, nor to pry into his life in any manner. This work-related trip of his was most likely a short one, and there wouldn’t be too many chances to meet again, thank goodness. Never mind that her best friend’s husband was Josh’s best friend. She could work around that and let him visit Paulo and Margarida while he was in town.

The rain had abated by the time she walked through the school gates, and shy rays of sun poked through the dissipating clouds. The old panes on the east-facing windows of the three-story granite building sparkled in the light like a thousand pieces of broken glass. Sofia climbed the staircase and made her way to the teacher’s lounge. Mondays were her short days and she only had classes in the morning. In the afternoon, the work rotated between administrative tasks and covering the classes of absent teachers. But today her work load was doubled.

After lunch, Sofia retrieved the department’s schedule and checked the agenda for the week. She set the sheets on the working table and added the dates and times to her phone calendar.

Her colleague Emília approached and sat in front of her. “Doutora Paula went home sick. You’ll have to play hostess and give the tour to the American.”

Sofia stilled. “What American?”

Emília raised an eyebrow. “The one who’s coming to document the school for that language program in California. Remember? The sister school?”

That was today? How could she have forgotten? Everyone had been talking about it since the beginning of the school year.

A town in California had implemented a Portuguese dual-language immersion program in the school district and they’d chosen the city of Braga as their sister city, selecting one school each of elementary, preparatory, and secondary schools. This school where she worked being the oldest and most iconic high school in the city, it didn’t surprise her that they’d chosen it. The cultural exchange between teachers and students was set to start in the next school year. In the meantime, the journalist would photograph the school, interview teachers and their classes, and collect any other information he needed to add to the American website and for the brochure.