Autumn Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

enamored with the truly big, the church appeared little and quaint.
    He sat for a few minutes, waiting for the disillusionment to creep in and ruin his fond memories. With relief he noted that, if anything, his heart warmed, and the images in his memory brightened.
    He saw his mother, clad in the shorts she usually wore only in the house, running from her car to the church before anyone saw her to arrange flowers for the Communion table. He saw his father standing behind the pulpit, well-worn Bible in hand, preaching his heart out. He saw the single stained glass oriel window that sat high in the wall behind the pulpit where the morning light flooded through, washing over Jesus as He knelt, hands folded on a rock, praying. Glass a lighter shade of blue than most of the sky showed the Father’s blessing being poured onto His only Son.
    As a boy Dan had studied that picture Sunday after Sunday as his father preached. Finally, curiosity driving him, he asked, “Why is Jesus taking a shower?” In all the years he’d listened to his father and his Sunday school teachers, he’d never heard the shower story.
    When his parents stopped coughing like they were suddenly seized with a virulent strain of pneumonia, they explained about God’s blessing flowing onto Jesus. Dan had nodded sagely, but he’d never stopped looking for the showerhead at the picture’s edge.
    Was the window still there, hung high in the paneled wall? Maybe now he was old enough to spot the showerhead. He grinned to himself.
    The announcement board on the front lawn told him that someone named Paul Trevelyan was pastor now. What would it feel like to see this unknown man in a pulpit where he’d only known Dad dressed in his black suit, white button-down shirt, and either his red or blue tie no matter how hot the weather?
    He took a deep breath and sat up straight.
Forget the past, Harmon. It’s today and tomorrow that need your attention
. His agitation about his unknown future still unsettled his usually cast-iron stomach, but as he drove away, he felt a little less grim.
    When Dan pulled up to the corner that held SeaSong in its embrace, he was impressed in spite of himself. In fact, it looked even better in real life than on its website, which was not always the way it went.
    The place was a wonderfully restored Victorian of three storieswith a nifty turret that wrapped one corner of the top two stories. It was painted a soft gray with darker gray, navy, and crimson detailing and white railings and window frames. Deep crimson, rose, and pink mums bloomed in profusion across the front of the house and in pots on the porch. A small but immaculately kept side lawn ran between SeaSong and its neighbor, with a slate path curving invitingly to a sitting area under a mature copper beech.
    He climbed the front steps and let himself into a small lobby where an antique walnut grandfather clock against the right wall bonged three times. Check-in time.
    A small registration counter sat perpendicular to the interior stairs, and a young woman in a navy sweatshirt sat behind it. Dan opened his mouth to speak to her, but something about the way all her attention was fixed on the phone in her hand stopped him. She held the receiver halfway to her ear while her fingers hovered uncertainly above the number pad.
    In a sudden rush she punched several digits, then paused, a look of panic rolling over her face. She slammed the receiver down, holding it in the cradle with both hands as though she expected it to jump up and attack her. Then her shoulders slumped, and a tear slid down her smooth cheek. She reached up and brushed it away with a sleeve, then brushed again as another escaped. She sighed and rose.
    Trouble in River City? Dan cleared his throat so she’d know he was there.
    She started at the sound, freezing for the slightest minute as if she’d been caught doing something terribly wrong.
    He smiled at her, hoping to relieve whatever made her so nervous. How old