Page 9 of A Season of Second Chances
"I hope so." I let out a breath on a sigh. "I try my best, but some days I wonder if I'm screwing it all up." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Single parenting is harder than I ever thought it would be."
There's a pause, and I can see Joy working up to asking something. Finally, she does. "What happened to her mom?" Then immediately her eyes widen, and she pushes her hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry, that's really none of my business."
"No," I say quickly, shaking my head. "It is. You have a right to know." I take another sip of the Sprite, gathering my thoughts. This isn't a story I tell often, mainly because most people in Pine Ridge already know it. "Her name was Starla. She was a housekeeper here when I first bought the lodge."
Joy nods, not saying anything, but listening, her eyes on mine.
"After you left, I was alone for a long time. Three years, actually. I didn't date, didn't even look at anyone else. I was stuck, you know? Stuck in the past, stuck in what we had, and what I wanted us to have. What I imagined we'd have." I run my hand through my hair, a nervous habit I've never been able to break. "But then I bought this place, and I needed staff. Starla applied, and we became friends. She understood what it was like to come from nothing, work for so much more than you thought you deserved."
"You don't have to explain," Joy says softly, but I can see in her eyes that she wants to know.
And maybe she deserves to know, maybe she deserves to know how much it hurt when she left, and how badly I needed someone else to love me.
"I want to," I tell her honestly. "We started dating after about six months of working together. It wasn't like what we had, Joy. It was never that intense, never that all-consuming. But it was comfortable, and I thought maybe that was what love was supposed to be when you got older. Less passion, more companionship."
Joy's jaw tightens slightly, but she doesn't interrupt.
"About a year into our relationship, she found out she was pregnant with Alana. We weren't planning it, but once it happened, I was happy. Scared out of my mind, but happy. I thought maybe we could make it work, build the family I never had, but always wanted." I can still remember the day Alana was born, how tiny she was, how terrified I was that I'd break her. "For the first four months, everything seemed okay. Starla wasn't the most maternal person, but I figured she was adjusting. We both were."
"What happened?" Joy's voice is barely above a whisper.
"I came home one day after being at the lodge, and found a note." Even now, the memory makes my chest tight. I'd walked through the house, looking for her, worried as hell. "Starla said she wasn't cut out to be a mother. That she'd made a mistake. That she was sorry." I pause, the next part still hard to say out loud. "She left Alana by herself in her crib. My four-month-old daughter, alone in the house. I knew in that moment I would never be able to forgive her. We'd never have a relationship again."
"Winter..." Joy's hand moves toward mine on the counter, then stops, like she can't force herself to make the final move.
"If I'd been any later getting home... I don't even want to think about it." I clear my throat, pushing down the anger and fear that still breaks the surface from where I've pushed it down when I think about that day. "Two months later, I received paperwork in the mail. She'd signed away all her parental rights, gave me full custody. Haven't heard from her since."
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. I'm not." And I mean it. "Since then, it's been me and Alana against the world. We've figured it out together. She's taught me more about love and patience than I ever knew was possible. Yeah, it's hard sometimes, and yeah, I worry constantly that I'm not enough for her. Even now, I know she really wants a mom. She looks at Fiona and asks why she can't be her mom, and I have to explain that Fiona loves her, but not in a motherly way. It's hard, because Alana is the best thing in the world for me, and I know she wasn't for someone else, but I wouldn't change it for anything."
Joy's eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and I have to wonder if she's thinking about how she left me the same way Starla left Alana. "You seem to be doing a really good job with her. She's confident, she's happy. She clearly adores you."
"She's my whole world." I'm quiet for a moment, then find myself saying something I probably shouldn't. "I wouldn't change any of it. Except maybe..." I trail off, my eyes meeting hers. "Maybe I wish I'd had my daughter with you instead. Ya know, if things had worked out."
Joy's mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. The air between us is charged, heavy with everything we're not saying, things that have been stuck there for years. I can see the shock on her face.
"Winter, I…"
"I know," I say quickly, before she can finish. "I know it's not fair for me to say that. You had your reasons for leaving, and I get it now. I really do. But sitting here with you, watching you with Alana this morning at breakfast? For a second, I could see what that life might have looked like. What we might have built together."
She's still speechless, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter like she needs something to hold onto.
"I'm sorry," I continue, shaking my head. "That was too much. You just got here, and I'm dumping all this on you."
"No, it's..." She stops, takes a breath. "It's a lot to process."
"I know. I'm sorry." I take another drink, wishing it was something stronger than Sprite. "Forget I said anything. We're just two old friends catching up, right?"
But the look in her eyes tells me she's not going to forget. Neither am I.
The door bursts open and Alana runs back in, her cheeks pink from the cold. "Dad! I saw three cardinals! Carol says they're good luck."
I welcome the interruption, pushing away from the counter to crouch down to her level. "Three? That's amazing, sweetheart."
"Can Joy come help us decorate the tree tonight?" Alana asks, looking between us with wide, hopeful eyes. "Please?"
I glance up at Joy, who still looks a little shell-shocked from our conversation. "You don't have to if you don't want to. We typically invite everyone staying so that they can enjoy some of the Christmas traditions they might have at home. Only four people have RSVP'd and most everyone has their own trees in their rooms. Yours is the only one that didn't have one," I explain, probably a little too much.
