Dreaming of Home. Glynna Kaye
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day. If I come back, everyone will expect me to attend Bell Road, too. Then I’d not only have to see Todd, but Jill and Myra and Grace.”
“Then find another high school down here. Another church.”
“It’s hard to explain, but—” She rummaged in the closet for a fitted denim jacket, then shoved one arm into a sleeve. How could she enlighten her mother when it was hard enough to explain it to herself? “I feel like that season of my life is over. It’s time to move on. A new direction. Fresh dream.”
“There was nothing wrong with your old dream of teaching school in the Phoenix area. Your illness came as a setback, but that can be overcome. Besides, how much longer can you borrow your aunt’s RV?”
She detected the frown in her mother’s voice. What Mom still didn’t “get” was that her teaching dream sprouted from Aunt Julie’s beloved memories of school in a small town. Not in the overcrowded, metropolitan Valley of the Sun. Had Mom forgotten she’d applied—unsuccessfully—for a job in Canyon Springs fresh out of college?
Meg switched the phone to the other ear and wiggled her free arm into the jacket sleeve. “Aunt Julie said I could keep it as long as I want.”
“Surely you don’t intend to spend the winter in it?”
“Kara’s mom has been trying to get me to move in with her. But actually—” She took a deep breath. Might as well tell her and get it over with. “If I get the job, there’s a house I want to buy here in Canyon Springs.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of this. Does your father know?”
“It came on the market this week.” She snatched up her purse and rummaged for her car keys. “I thought maybe Rob could come up and take a look at it.”
Her brother was a home inspector and would give her an honest evaluation.
“Buying a house is a huge commitment. What if you don’t like it up there? So far from home?” Her mother paused. “What if…”
The question drifted off, but Meg filled in the blank.
“I love it here, Mom. I’m just a few hours away from you and Dad and my doctors. My last checkup was good. No sign of anything spreading.” She spoke with more confidence than she felt. “I might be able to afford a rental in the off season, but that’s only a fraction of the year. We’re talking rents jumping to thousands of dollars a month most of the time. Not a good investment.”
“Would you have roommates, like you did at the condo?”
“Maybe. But I’ve lived in cramped dorms or a three-girl condo for almost a decade.” She sighed. “I’d like to have a little place of my own. A garden. A dog. I don’t want to keep putting my life on hold waiting for Mr. Right. Or give in to living the rest of my life afraid.”
Her mother’s voice softened. “I didn’t mean that you should, honey.”
“I know you worry about me, Mom. But if worse would come to worst, at least I’d have had a chance to fulfill a dream, wouldn’t I? Even if only for a while. No regrets.”
Silence hung between them.
“I love this little house. You will, too. It’s the only one I think I can afford. I’ll even have a guest room for you and Dad to come up and visit.”
Her mother remained silent. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her the house she was looking at was Aunt Julie’s old home, where she’d lived for a few years as a kid. Or that her aunt had been so excited when she’d called her about it Friday night that she’d even pledged to pitch in on the down payment, if needed, in exchange for occasional space on her niece’s sleeper sofa. No, now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Mom already held her sister-in-law responsible for her daughter hitting the road in a borrowed RV and making like a gypsy.
She glanced at her watch. “Look, Mom, I have to go. Church. I’ll call you later this week, okay?”
After they said their goodbyes, she mentally rehashed the conversation. Mom meant well, with concern for her health as the primary reason for wanting her closer to home. But she’d grown up on her aunt’s stories of attending school in Canyon Springs, the studies that enthralled her, the teachers who inspired her. Funny stories. Poignant stories. Stories that made her homesick for a place she’d never been before. Those stories fueled a teaching dream she pursued in college and which, unfortunately, collided with reality at urban, overcrowded Sadler High.
To her delight, however, the hope of making her long-held dream an actuality revived in the wake of her illness. She’d learned the hard way that life might be short, but God was giving her a second chance. Or so she’d thought until a pirate with a science teaching credential sailed onto the scene.
Was God asking her to give it up without a fight?
Man, oh, man.
Lungs burning and heart all but pounding right out of his chest cavity, Joe Diaz leaned over, hands braced on his legs right above the kneecaps. He labored to breathe more deeply, to suck in sufficient quantities of paper-thin oxygen. What had been a walk-in-the-park, five-mile run at sea-level San Diego had whittled down to three grueling ones in Canyon Springs.
He shook his head and forced a smile. What a wimp. You’d think after eight days of this he’d start to get used to it. Didn’t some philosopher say that which does not kill you will only make you stronger? Yeah, right. If he didn’t die first.
Eventually he straightened and trudged up the steps of his father’s deck. He grabbed a hand towel from where he’d left it on the back of a folding lawn chair and wiped away what remained of the sweat. The region’s low humidity could mislead a guy into thinking he hadn’t perspired much. Deceptive. He’d forgotten that. He finished his cool-down stretches, then surveyed the wooded campground as he consumed a stainless steel container of H2O. It might take a while for his body to acclimate, but boy did he love running in Arizona’s White Mountains. Racing along winding dirt trails. Sun filtering through long-needled ponderosa pine boughs to warm his skin. A sky so blue it boggled his mind. God even threw in an extra treat this morning—two does and a fawn. This was a way of life he could get into.
Ironic, wasn’t it, how his perspective on the old hometown changed since he was a teen?
The banging of the screen door behind him interrupted his reverie as Davy shot out onto the deck and headed down the wooden steps.
“Hey, where you going in such a hurry, bud?”
Davy either didn’t hear him or—as Joe suspected—ignored him. Bill stepped out the door, and Joe turned.
“Where’s he going?”
“Meg’s.”
Meg’s? He took a ragged breath that had nothing to do with his morning exertion. If she was targeting his job, he had even more reason to keep Davy away from her.
“Dad, I asked you last night not to encourage the two of them. You could at least respect my wishes, even if you don’t agree with them.”
“This has nothing to do with you or Davy. It’s about doing unto others.”
Joe raised a brow. “Come again?”
“Gasoline isn’t free. She’s on a tight budget. Only makes sense to offer a ride to church.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You were too young to remember,” his dad continued, staring into the forest at Davy’s retreating back. “But there was a time when an offered ride would have been money in the bank to your mother and me.”
Caught off-guard, Joe studied his father a long moment, but the man’s thoughts remained focused elsewhere. Then he returned, without further comment, to the house. Interesting. Dad seldom, if ever, mentioned his ex-wife. Then again, he himself rarely talked about his mother either.
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