Stolen Dreams

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Maybe. But he cares about your opinion, and if you’re filling his head with the wrong things, it affects our chances of working anything out.”

  He laughed. “Is that why you’re here—to work things out?”

  “Why is it funny?”

  “In all the time you’ve been married, I haven’t seen you take the initiative to work on anything with him. It’s always been Josh going out of his way to do things for you to make you happy. Truth is, I’m surprised you’re making an effort now.”

  Inside, I fumed. Outside, I kept my shit together. “I get it. You don’t like me. Fine. You don’t have to be cruel.”

  “I’m not being cruel. I’m being honest. You asked me to tell you how I feel, so I just did.”

  “I get it. He’s your friend, he’s upset, and you’re supporting him. Truth is, I’m glad he has you.”

  He sighed. “Callie, I’ve known you for a long time, and I’ve been friends with Josh since we were kids. I’ve seen him happier than he’s ever been because of you, and I’ve also seen him sadder than he’s ever been because of you.”

  “Has he told you what’s happening? Why he left?”

  “I can’t talk about it. It wouldn’t be right. If you want answers to your questions, you should ask him.”

  Charles offered a sympathetic smile, then backed away and closed the front door without uttering another word.

  Of all the friends Josh had, Charles made me the most nervous. He was the kind of guy who refused to grow up, the one who was always trying to convince the other guys that being a bachelor was the only way to go. It made me wonder if Charles had a hand in what was happening—if his single ways and flashy, glamorous lifestyle had finally rubbed off. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a crazy notion. Josh was sweet and kind; he was nothing like Charles.

  I rounded the corner of the main house and looked for Josh’s truck in the driveway next to the guesthouse. It wasn’t there. I went to the door and knocked anyway, not expecting anyone to come to the door. I was surprised when someone did. Really surprised. Standing in front of me was a woman, with wet hair and a wet T-shirt, but the most surprising thing of all—she was wearing a V-neck T-shirt. Josh’s T-shirt. She looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t figure out why.

  “Who are you?” I asked. “And why are you wearing my husband’s shirt?”

  “Oh! Hey.” She tried to shield her body behind the door, which was pointless. “It’s not what you think.”

  “How do you know what I think?”

  “I know what I’d think if I were you.” She stuck a hand out toward me. I shook it, even though the whole situation was awkward. “I’m Jean. Your husband is a doll, by the way.”

  If she thought the compliment helped, it didn’t. “Yes, I know.”

  “I’m Charles’s sister.”

  I looked at her again, more closely this time. “Oh, I can see it now. Sorry. I haven’t seen you in years, and with the wet hair, no makeup and everything, I couldn’t tell it was you.”

  It was a polite way of not saying I didn’t recognize her because she’d had work done since I saw her last—new boobs and what appeared to be a much smaller nose.

  “I’m only wearing Josh’s shirt because you knocked, and I just hopped out of the shower and didn’t have any clothes on, and I saw Josh’s shirt sitting on the chair.”

  “Why are you in the guesthouse at all? Isn’t he supposed to be staying here? Why aren’t you in the house with your brother?”

  “Too hectic in there at night. I can’t get any sleep with all the people coming in and out sometimes. I was staying in the guesthouse before Josh got here. I’m leaving tomorrow, and, just so you know, there are three rooms in here, and Josh is a perfect gentleman. He didn’t even want to stay here when he found out I was here. The only reason he agreed is because he knows I’m leaving tomorrow, and he’ll have the place all to himself after that.”

  “Has he ... said anything to you about why he’s here?”

  “Not much. He doesn’t talk a lot. Believe me, I tried. The guy looked like he was about to explode last night.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Not really. He stuck to his room, only leaving it to go to the kitchen and pour himself another glass of tequila. Then it was back into the room again until he finished it and returned again for another.”

  “I’m sorry; did you just say he was drinking?”

  She nodded. “Off and on all night last night. Why?”

  “He hasn’t had a drink in ages.”

  “Well ... I don’t know what to tell you. He’s drinking now. He’s struggling. I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t mean to pry, but he seems lost. I feel bad for the guy.”

  I didn’t get it. Any of it. It was like another person had taken over. I wanted Josh back. The old Josh. The one I fell in love with. “I was hoping to talk to him before he left for work, but I must have just missed him.”

  “I overheard him on the phone this morning. He said he was starting a new job.”

  “A new job? He’s not finished with the old one yet.” It didn’t make sense. He’d been on the Hansen job all summer and had at least another week to go before he was finished. “Did he mention anything else about the new job?”

  “Honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  I thanked her and asked her to call me if anything else happened that she thought I should know about, knowing full well she probably wouldn’t. My husband was her brother’s friend. In the meantime, I needed to find him. I also needed to talk to the Hansens.

  Libby Hansen was in front of her house when I arrived, on her knees, weeding her sunflower garden even though it was almost one hundred degrees outside. She stood when I pulled into the driveway, brushed her hands along the front of her apron she was wearing, then took it off, revealing the skimpy sundress underneath. She’d always been a fan of short things—short shorts, short skirts. The shorter the better. Some things hadn’t changed since we’d cheered together in high school.

  “Callie, it’s good to see you.” She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “I can’t remember when I saw you last. We should go to lunch sometime. Want to come in for a minute?”

  We went inside. “Josh has been remodeling your bathrooms, hasn’t he?”

  “He has. He’s finished with the hall bathroom and the one our son Milo uses. All he needs to do now is finish up the master. Do you want to see what he’s done so far?”

  We walked to the first bathroom and she flicked on the light. “What do you think?”

  I thought what I always thought when I looked at Josh’s handiwork. Where others saw a nicely tiled room, I saw the artistry behind his designs, the perfection in each square. “It’s nice. Really nice.”

  “He did a great job, didn’t he?”

  I nodded, and we walked back to her bedroom, which looked a little different than I thought it would. For one thing, I didn’t see anything to indicate she shared the room with her husband. The closet was filled with her clothes, without a single male article of clothing in sight, and I remembered Josh talking to me about two weeks before about how he’d sat on the back porch after work one day, talking with Libby’s husband Jeremy. So where were his things?

  Libby walked past me and said, “The master bath is through here.”

  We walked over to it, and I glanced around. The tile work wasn’t finished, but it was almost done. The only thing remaining to be completed was the trim work at the top. “Seems like he only needs another day or two and it will be done. Why isn’t Josh here finishing this up today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought he started a job for another client today. Why would he do that if he still has work to do here?”

  “I don’t know. He told me he was taking the week off and said he’d be back next week.”

  “Did he say why he needed to take a week off?”

  She was quiet for a
moment, gnawing on her bottom lip. I sensed something was wrong.

  “You want to sit down for a minute and catch up?”

  I stood there, not knowing what to say. Sitting down with her would increase the chances that I wouldn’t say something I shouldn’t say. I didn’t want her privy to my private business. If I kept acted like I didn’t know where my husband was or what he was doing, it would increase the suspicion she already had. What’s more, she’d always had a reputation of not being able to keep her mouth shut. In school, she was known as the class gossip. Tell Libby, tell the whole city. I had a hard time believing anything had changed. “I need to be going. I’m meeting Josh later for lunch. Nice seeing you though.”

  It was dishonest, but it worked ... for a minute. Then she crossed her arms in front of her, leaned back against the wall, and just stared at me like she knew I was lying. The question was—how did she know I was lying? What did she know that I didn’t?

  I said goodbye to Libby and walked to my car, unable to shake the feeling that she’d acted weird during our short visit. Very weird. I’d made it back to my car just in time for a truck to pull into Libby’s driveway. A man stepped out, turned toward me, and smiled. “Callie?” He walked toward me. “It is you! It’s great to see you.”

  Jeremy Hansen was just as handsome now as he was when we were in school together. He was tall with short, thick, black hair, broad shoulders, and eyes so piercing I used to forget what I was saying whenever I talked to him at school.

  We embraced. “Good to see you, too, Jeremy.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was looking for Josh. Libby said he asked for some time off, but I’m not sure why. I guess I don’t understand why he’d ask for time off when the job was so close to being finished.”

  “How are things going with you and Josh lately?”

  “Fine. How are you and Libby?”

  “We’re not.”

  It was a reply I didn’t expect. Real and raw. Laced with emotion.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see any of your clothes in the closet in the bedroom, and I wondered.”

  “I’ve been staying at a hotel. Came over tonight to get my stuff. I’m leaving her. I’ve already rented a condo downtown.”

  A million questions crossed my mind: Why he was leaving her? How had things gone so wrong? And what had she done to make him leave? It made sense to me now why he appeared different today—not like the same happy, free-spirited man I was used to seeing. Before I had time to think about what I was saying, I blurted out, “Before, when I said things were good with Josh ... they’re not. We’re having problems too.”

  I expected a reaction. I didn’t get one.

  Why didn’t I get one?

  Because he knew.

  He already knew things weren’t good.

  “What do you know about my marriage?” I asked. “Did Josh talk to you about it?”

  He shook his head. “Josh has never discussed your relationship with me.”

  “You know something. I know you do. I can tell.”

  “It’s not what you think. It’s something else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He was quiet for a time, and then, “Has Josh talked to you at all about anything that’s happened since he started working for us?”

  There was a flicker of movement inside the house, by the open window, like someone was standing there, listening to our conversation. Libby.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Josh mentioned how your job was coming along a few times. That was it though.”

  “Josh is the reason I’m leaving my wife. Well, one of the reasons.”

  I stepped back, eyeing him curiously. “What does Josh have to do with you and Libby?”

  I thought about Libby at home all day while Josh worked, dumping her problems on him, sharing the latest gossip, oversharing her marriage woes with him for attention. I wondered if Josh had given her advice, and somehow it had led to all this ... leaving. It didn’t seem plausible though. Josh wasn’t a talker, and he wasn’t one to insert his opinions into someone else’s business.

  The front door opened. Libby walked out, hands on hips. She looked at Jeremy. “Jeremy. Don’t.”

  Jeremy don’t what?

  What was she hiding?

  What were they both hiding?

  He looked back. “Stay out of it, Libby. This conversation is between Callie and me. Not you. Besides, you have no right to get involved after what you did.”

  “I have every right,” she said. “Don’t do this, Jeremy. It won’t change anything.”

  “Nothing you can say will change anything anyway.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “This is still my house, Libby.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want you here.”

  “I only came to get my stuff.”

  “I should go,” I said. “Seems like you both have things to discuss.”

  “No, please,” Jeremy said. “Stay. We need to talk. Truth is, I’ve been thinking about coming to see you.”

  “About what?”

  “We need to talk about your husband and my wife.”

  Libby refused to go back into the house after Jeremy aired the one thing she’d tried to get him not to say. Jeremy considered his options then asked me to go for a ride with him in his truck. Fifteen minutes later, we were driving around, only he wasn’t talking, which grated on me until the silence I usually craved was something I couldn’t endure anymore. “What’s going on with Josh and Libby?”

  “I’m sorry, Callie. Part of me is sitting here thinking it wasn’t right to spring that on you back there. It’s obvious he never said anything to you. I’d been wondering if he had.

  “You brought it us, so you may as well finish.”

  “Just because of what I’m going through doesn’t mean I have the right to get involved with what’s happening on your end. I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t want his sorry.

  I wanted the truth.

  “We’ve been going through a rough patch, too, and I don’t know why. He just pulled away from me, stopped sleeping in our bed, stopped talking to me about things. And then yesterday he packed a bag, told me he was leaving, and he went to stay at his friend’s house. So, if there’s something I need to know about Josh, I need you to tell me, because he hasn’t explained anything, and I don’t know if he ever will.”

  He pulled to the side of the road, put the truck in park, and turned toward me. “Couple weeks ago, I came home from work a little early, about twenty minutes before I usually do. Josh’s truck was still there, which wasn’t surprising. Sometimes he’s still there when I get home. I went in, walked around, trying to find where he was working. He was in the master bathroom with Libby. I could hear them talking.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t think it matters. They didn’t hear me come in. I poked my head in the door and saw my wife’s arms wrapped around your husband’s neck. They were kissing.”

  I’d braced myself for what he might say, but I still wasn’t prepared to hear it. “Oh,” was all I could think to say.

  “My wife looked over, saw me standing there, and acted like she didn’t care. She smiled. She seemed pleased that I’d caught them together. I’m not kidding. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse on the woman’s face.”

  “What about Josh? What did he do when you caught them?”

  “Josh was the complete opposite. He pushed Libby away and tried to explain. I wasn’t listening though. I was so caught up in what I saw, even though his lips were moving, I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told him to leave, and he did. When I confronted my wife, she said she had feelings for Josh. She said he returned her feelings. She planned on leaving me for him and said she just hadn’t decided how to tell me yet. I think she was relieved when she got caught.”

  My stomach churned, twisting like a tightened knot
at the end of a noose. I was shocked. Paralyzed. Not even sure I was still breathing. All function in my body ceased.

  Jeremy touched my arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like ... I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

  I opened the door and vomited all over the side of the road. In an instant, Jeremy had hopped out and rushed to my side, wrapping a hand around my disheveled, blond hair. “I’m sorry, Callie.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad you told me. I mean, it’s not what I wanted to hear, but I needed to know. I’m just confused. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  One more vomit session later, I was back in the truck and we were on our way again, driving much slower than the speed limit allowed, which I assumed was to reduce the chances of me throwing up inside his truck. Every so often he’d look over, ask if I was okay and if I needed anything. He even stopped at a gas station and bought me a drink to soothe my stomach. But nothing in the world could soothe me. I was broken, my life shattered into a million pieces.

  Several hours later, I beat a fist against Charles’s guesthouse door until Josh cracked the door open, his face somber and red, almost like he’d been crying, but that couldn’t have been true. He didn’t cry. He never had in front of me anyway.

  “Callie, hey.”

  I shook my head. “Hey? Really?”

  What would he do next, give me a high-five?

  “Umm ... what do you expect me to say?”

  “How about saying you’re sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being a jerk. For falling for Libby. For keeping it from me, which is really the same thing as lying. Should I keep going?”

  “Whom have you been talking to today?”

  “I went to Libby’s house to find you, only I didn’t find you, which is odd, don’t you think? You left the job you were supposed to be working on unfinished. I stood there like an idiot, looking at what you had completed, and wondering why you’d leave the finish work when you were so close to being done with the job.”