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next door.
    After a long hot shower, he returned to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked in the mirror. He felt different. Studying his image, he realized he looked different as well, bigger somehow. He was surprised at how many muscles he had developed in the last couple of months. He opened the closet and picked out jeans and a sweater. Everything fit. He slipped the crystal back into the pocket of his jeans, not quite sure why, it just seemed important to keep it close.
    Showered and dressed, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Stewart had set out a steaming bowl of beef stew and thick slices of homemade bread.
    “What would you like to drink?” she asked.
    “A glass of milk would be great, if you have it.”
    She poured a large glass. It was ice cold and tasted wonderful. Fresh milk was one of the things he missed most. Since most digs were in such remote places, he had to make do with powdered milk. When he finished the stew, she brought out brownies.
    Now that he was full, he was exhausted. He still had a headache and was having trouble covering a huge yawn. “Thank you for everything. That was wonderful. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.”
    “It was no trouble. You looked tired. You probably still have jet lag. Why don’t you go on up to bed? I’ll clean up here and see you in the morning. Your grandfather should be home around noon tomorrow.”
    Joshua offered to help her, but she refused. He trudged up the stairs and fell into bed. He didn’t stir until the sun woke him around 10 a.m. Thankfully, his headache was gone. The aroma of something wonderful cooking stirred his hunger. He dressed quickly in the same clothes he’d worn the night before and went downstairs.
    Mrs. Stewart was in the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread filled the air. Sliding a roast in the oven, she said, “Sit down, Joshua. I just took some cinnamon rolls out of the oven, would you like one? Or I could make you a real breakfast of eggs and ham, if you like? We’ll be having lunch around one o’clock if your grandfather gets home on time, but I imagine someone growing as fast as you will be hungry again by then.”
    Joshua shook his head. “The cinnamon rolls will be plenty. They smell great. Keep doing what you are doing.” He silently watched her knead bread dough, form it into loaves, and then set it aside to rise while he consumed three of the cinnamon rolls.
    Mrs. Stewart hummed while she worked but didn’t say anymore.
    At last, Joshua stood up, rinsed his glass, and said, “I think I’ll go into the library and see if I can find something to read.”
    Joshua knew that his grandfather had an extensive library. Adjoining the library was his grandfather’s study. The door was open and when he looked in, he was surprised to see that his grandfather also had an up-to-date computer set up on the massive desk. Three walls of the library were floor to ceiling bookshelves, the fourth a wall of windows with French doors leading out to the back garden. Two large comfortable chairs faced the garden.
    Joshua scanned the shelves. There were books on a variety of subjects as well as fiction. He could tell that most, if not all, of the books had been read, the covers worn with yellowing pages. There were even sections on paleontology, archeology, and anthropology. Joshua wondered if his dad had left them behind, or whether his grandfather had been researching the life that Sam led. He picked out one on the Maya, looking for anything resembling the crystal or the recess.
    Now rested, with time to think, his mind returned to the extraordinary events of the day before. He took the crystal from his pocket and examined it. As farfetched as it seemed, the only answer he could come up with that explained anything, was that the crystal worked in conjunction with the recess to act as a transporter. Although, if that were true, how did you control it? Why did it send him here and how could he