Page 6 of A Season of Second Chances
I’m frustrated this morning about a handful of things. The wi-fi here is less than ideal, I can't log on to any of the Zoom meetings that I'm supposed to be at. I'm tired, I only got a few hours sleep. And I'm uncomfortable being back in my hometown.
But there's one thing that's bothering me more than the others, and I shouldn't let it be affecting me this much, but it is.
I love snow globes. I always have since I was a kid. Every year that we were together, Winter got me a snow globe. I still have every single one of them tucked away back home in Indianapolis. But here, in this room, in Pine Ridge, there's a snow globe that I wanted desperately, but never got. It's located on a table next to the window, where I imagine on a sunny day, it catches the rays, and displays against the wall.
My stomach drops when I pick it up and turn it over. Right there on the bottom is the date and his name. He always did that on the ones he gave me. So I'd never have to wonder when it was given to me. Tears pool in my eyes, but I push them back when my phone rings and my bosses name flashes across the screen.
"Hi Alex," I answer, trying to put a smile in my voice.
"Joy, is there any ETA on you getting out of that hell hole? I tried to see if I could get a car service for you, but they're all advising against traveling." His voice is annoyed, just like I imagined it would be.
"No, no there isn't. Last I heard, it could be almost a week. The wi-fi here leaves a lot to be desired. I can't even sign on for the calls."
"Well, that's just perfect." The sarcasm drips through the phone, and I can picture him at his desk, running his hand through his hair the way he does when he's stressed. "The Harrington pitch is Thursday. I need you on that call, Joy."
"I know, I know. I'm going to try to find better internet. Maybe there's somewhere in town…" Although I have no idea how I'm going to get there.
"Just figure it out," he cuts me off. "I don't care if you have to sit in a McDonald's parking lot. We need you."
The line goes dead before I can respond, and I stare at my phone, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest that comes with disappointing Alex. It's the same feeling I've been having more and more lately, like nothing I do is ever enough. I used to be really great at my job, and the person that everyone came to, but it doesn't feel that way anymore.
I set the snow globe back down, careful not to look at the date again, and grab my laptop. Maybe the wi-fi is better downstairs. Maybe if I can just get through one meeting, prove that I want to be working, Alex will ease up.
The dining room is quiet when I make my way down, my laptop tucked under my arm. Only a few tables are being used, mostly by what appears to be other stranded travelers picking at their breakfast. I choose a corner table near an outlet, settling in and opening my laptop.
The wi-fi connects, but barely. The little spinning wheel of death mocks me as I try to load my email. One bar. Two bars. Back to one. I refresh the page, willing it to cooperate, but it's not connecting.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter under my breath, refreshing again.
"Excuse me?"
I look up to find a little girl standing next to my table. She's got dark hair pulled into pigtails, and eyes that remind me so much of Winter's it makes my heart skip. This must be Alana.
"Hi," I say, softening my voice the way you do when talking to children.
"Do you like pancakes?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.
The question catches me off guard. "I... yes, I do like pancakes."
Her face lights up like I've just told her the best news in the world. "Do you want to eat pancakes with me? Carol's going to bring them out, and she always makes too many, and Daddy says I shouldn't eat them all because I'll get a tummy ache."
For a moment, I'm slightly annoyed. I came down here to work, to try to salvage what's left of my professional credibility. I don't have time to eat pancakes with a five-year-old I don't know. But then I really look at her, at the hope in her eyes, the way she's practically bouncing on her toes waiting for my answer. There's something in her expression that speaks to a loneliness I recognize, a need for attention that goes beyond just wanting someone to share breakfast with. The attention of a woman, specifically.
I close my laptop.
"I would love to eat pancakes with you," I hear myself say.
Alana's smile could light up the entire lodge. "Yay! You can sit here, and I'll sit here," she says, pointing to the chair across from me before climbing into it. "What's your name?"
"Joy."
"That's a pretty name. My name is Alana Rose Evans. The Rose part is from my grandma, but I never met her because she died before I was born. Daddy says she would've loved me though."
"I'm sure she would have," I say, unable to stop the smile that tugs at my lips.
Carol appears with a stack of pancakes that could feed a small army, along with butter, syrup, and what looks like fresh whipped cream. "I see you've made a friend, Joy," she says warmly.
"Apparently so."
