Chapter 16: A Song from the Past

The soft aroma of sizzling butter and warm syrup drifted into Josh’s room, pulling him from the edge of sleep. For a moment, he lay still, savoring the comfort of a simple, peaceful morning. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting golden streaks across the walls. From downstairs came the sound of his mother humming an old tune—something vaguely familiar, like a half-remembered lullaby.

Josh smiled to himself. These mornings had been rare in his first life, often lost in the chaos of rushed goodbyes and strained silences. But now, each small moment felt like a treasure, a reminder of the second chance he’d been given to appreciate his family in ways he hadn’t before.

Throwing off his blanket, Josh dressed quickly, tugging on jeans and a plain T-shirt before padding downstairs. The kitchen was alive with energy: Dorothy stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes onto a plate, her movements precise and confident. William sat at the table, propping his head on one hand as he lazily stirred a glass of orange juice with a spoon. Joel, meanwhile, rummaged through the fridge, muttering something about “needing more milk.”

“Morning, Mom,” Josh said, sliding into the seat across from William.

Dorothy turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Morning, sweetheart. Pancakes are almost ready. How about some eggs to go with them?”

“Sounds perfect,” Josh replied, glancing at his brothers. “Joel, save some syrup for the rest of us.”

Joel smirked but didn’t reply, retrieving a carton of milk and setting it on the counter with a thud. “We’re almost out,” he said, pouring the last bit into his glass.

“Great. Guess someone’s making a trip to the mini-mart,” Dorothy said with a chuckle as she brought over a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

William perked up at the sight, sniffing the air theatrically. “Finally! I’m starving,” he groaned, reaching for the top pancake before Dorothy swatted his hand away.

“Wait your turn,” she said sternly, though her smile softened the reprimand.

As the family dug in, the table buzzed with easy conversation. William launched into a long-winded tale about his basketball game at the park the day before, dramatically recounting how he “nearly dunked” on a friend. Joel rolled his eyes at the exaggeration but offered occasional interjections, sparking a playful argument. Dorothy laughed, chiming in every so often to keep the peace.

Josh stayed quieter, content to observe and soak in the moment. He’d missed this—the casual banter, the shared laughter. For a long time in his first life, he hadn’t realized how precious these moments were. Now, he clung to them like lifelines.

When breakfast was over and the plates were cleared, Josh stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders back. “I think I’ll head over to Mr. Johnson’s for a bit,” he said casually.

His mother paused mid-swipe with her dish towel, giving him a curious look. “What for? He’s not putting you to work in his garden, is he?”

Josh chuckled. “No, just want to check in. He’s got good stories, and I could use some advice.”

“Advice?” Dorothy raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with mild amusement. “Well, if anyone’s got wisdom to share, it’s him. Just don’t let him talk your ear off.”

“He can talk all he wants,” Josh said with a grin. “I don’t mind.”

“Alright, but don’t stay out too long,” she said, her voice softening. “And let me know if you’ll be home for lunch.”

“Will do,” Josh replied, heading back upstairs.

In his room, the cozy quiet of the morning gave way to the weight of responsibility. Josh moved to his dresser, pulling open the middle drawer. Beneath a balled-up pair of thick winter socks lay the lottery ticket, its edges crisp and unblemished.

He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers brushing the paper as if it might dissolve under his touch. The numbers were etched into his memory, a sequence that could change everything. But as much as the ticket felt like a lifeline, it also felt like a gamble.

“What if this changes too much?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. His reflection in the mirror seemed to challenge him, his 10-year-old face at odds with the man inside.

Josh shook his head, pushing the doubts aside. For all his concerns, this plan was the best way he could think of to ease his mother’s burden. He folded the ticket carefully, tucking it into his pocket.

First, though, he needed to talk to Mr. Johnson. The old man had a way of cutting through tangled thoughts and seeing the bigger picture.

With that, Josh headed downstairs, his steps steady as he moved toward the next part of his day.

Josh knocked on Mr. Johnson’s door, the familiar creak echoing from the hinges as the old man opened it. Mr. Johnson greeted him with a smile that quickly turned quizzical at the determined look on Josh’s face.

“Well, now, what’s got you so serious this morning, young man?” Mr. Johnson asked, stepping aside to let Josh in.

Josh gave a sheepish grin, holding up the lottery ticket. “We need to rough this up a bit—make it look like I found it in the street.”

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Josh smirked. “You’ve still got that old car, right? I was thinking we could run it over a few times. That should do the trick.”

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got quite the imagination, kid. But I suppose it’s not the worst idea. Let’s head out back and see what we can do.”

In the driveway, Mr. Johnson pulled the tarp off his weathered sedan, the dull blue paint chipped in places from years of exposure. He slid into the driver’s seat, motioning for Josh to place the ticket on the ground in front of the car.

“Here goes nothing,” Josh said, setting the ticket on the concrete. He stepped back as Mr. Johnson started the car, its engine rumbling to life.

With a careful nudge of the gas pedal, the old man rolled the front tires over the ticket, pausing before reversing back over it. He repeated the process a few times, the weight of the car creasing the paper and smudging the edges just enough to make it look like it had been through some wear and tear.

Josh crouched down to retrieve the ticket, inspecting it with a critical eye. “Perfect,” he said, brushing off some dirt for effect. “Now it looks like something someone dropped and forgot about.”

Mr. Johnson stepped out of the car, crossing his arms as he looked at Josh. “Alright, ticket’s roughed up. What’s the next step?”

~~ They moved to the patio, where the morning sun cast dappled shadows through the leaves of the old oak tree. Mr. Johnson poured them each a glass of iced tea, the ice clinking softly as they settled into their chairs.

Josh leaned forward, the ticket still in his hand. “So, I’ve been thinking about what comes next. I want to start investing in the stock market—but not in my name. I was thinking of setting up a trust.”

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A trust? That’s an ambitious idea. What are you planning to do with it?”

Josh took a sip of his tea, organizing his thoughts. “The idea is to buy another lottery ticket—but this time, I want the trust to claim it. That way, it’s anonymous. No one will know it’s connected to me or my family. Then, I can use the trust to start investing in the market. It’ll give us some long-term stability without drawing too much attention.”

Mr. Johnson leaned back, considering Josh’s words. “You’ve certainly thought this through. But setting up a trust isn’t something you can just do overnight. You’ll need a lawyer to make sure it’s airtight.”

“That’s where I was hoping you could help,” Josh said, meeting Mr. Johnson’s gaze. “Could you find a lawyer who can set this up for me? Someone discreet who won’t ask too many questions?”

The old man nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “I might know a guy. An old friend from my army days who went into law. He’s retired now, but I bet he’d take on something like this for me.”

Josh’s face lit up with gratitude. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson. I just ... I want to make sure we’re doing this the right way. I don’t want to put my family at risk.”

Mr. Johnson smiled thoughtfully, his gaze steady. “Josh, I know you’ve got years of experience and knowledge, but even the wisest man can get tripped up when it comes to money. It has a way of complicating things, no matter how good your intentions are. Just make sure you’re not just protecting the money, but protecting your family’s trust and relationships.”

Josh nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s why I want to keep this quiet. I don’t want it to change my family—I just want to give them a better life.”

Mr. Johnson raised his glass in a small toast. “Then here’s to doing it the right way. Let’s make sure this plan of yours works without a hitch.”

Josh clinked his glass against Mr. Johnson’s, feeling a surge of determination. With the trust in motion and the ticket ready, the next steps were coming into focus.

Josh and Mr. Johnson stayed on the patio, enjoying the tranquility of the late morning. The hum of distant lawnmowers and the occasional chirping of birds filled the air as they sipped their iced tea. Their earlier discussion about the trust and the lottery ticket gave way to lighter conversation—stories from Mr. Johnson’s youth and a few anecdotes from Josh’s previous life that he carefully tailored to avoid sounding too out of place for a ten-year-old.

“Y’know,” Mr. Johnson said, his voice tinged with nostalgia, “there’s something about these quiet mornings that makes you appreciate life’s small things. The older I get, the more I realize those are what really matter.”

Josh nodded, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right. I spent so much time chasing what I thought were big things, only to realize I’d been ignoring the important stuff—like family and moments like this.”

Mr. Johnson smiled, nodding. “You’ve got a rare perspective for someone in your situation, Josh. Don’t lose that.”

As the sun crept closer to noon, Josh stretched, setting his empty glass on the patio table. “I should get going. Mom’s probably wondering where I’ve been all morning.”

Mr. Johnson chuckled. “She’s probably grateful for the quiet. Go on, then. I’ll let you know when I’ve got news about that lawyer.”

Josh gave him a wave as he walked back toward his house, his mind still buzzing with plans.

When he stepped through the front door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. His mom was at the kitchen table, a small pad of paper in front of her where she was jotting down a grocery list. She looked up and smiled as Josh entered.

“There you are,” she said. “Have a good visit with Mr. Johnson?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah, it was nice. He’s got some great stories.”

She laughed softly. “I’m sure he does. Speaking of which, do you mind heading to the mini-mart for me? I need a few things to get us through tomorrow.”

“Of course, Mom,” Josh replied, stepping closer to glance at the list. “What do we need?”

She handed it to him, the faint smell of her hand lotion lingering on the paper. “Just some basics—milk, eggs, bread, a couple of onions, and some ground beef if it’s on sale. Shouldn’t take you long.”

Josh folded the list and tucked it into his pocket. “Got it. Anything else while I’m out?”

She shook her head, smiling warmly. “No, sweetheart. Just be safe and don’t take too long.”

Josh grabbed the small wad of cash she handed him and slipped it into his other pocket. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, heading out the door.

The neighborhood was alive with weekend energy as Josh made his way to the mini-mart. Kids raced their bikes up and down the street, and a few dads tinkered with lawnmowers or leaned under the hoods of their cars. The distant sound of a radio playing 90s rock drifted from someone’s garage, mixing with the rhythmic chirping of cicadas.

Josh couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. It felt like stepping into a postcard from his youth—so ordinary, yet so meaningful in its simplicity.

As he approached the mini-mart, he ran through the list in his mind. Milk, eggs, bread, onions, ground beef—basic staples that had sustained his family for years. His mother’s careful budgeting always amazed him. She could stretch a dollar further than anyone he’d ever known.

The jingling bell above the door announced Josh’s arrival as he stepped into the cool interior of the mini-mart. The familiar scent of cleaning supplies mixed with the faint aroma of coffee brewing behind the counter. Mrs. Chang stood at the register, her reading glasses perched low on her nose as she flipped through a magazine.