That’s what it is.
Jovie puts up with a lot.
Far more than a kid her age should ever have to.
And that’s one thing I want to change.
I don’t want her to have to miss out on playing sports because we can’t afford the gear. I don’t want her to not be invited to parties because of other parents' views on our lives.
And I don’t want her to not experience seeing cool shit on a family road trip, just because I want to get to Scarlett’s and relax.
I open my mouth to tell her we’ll find a place to stay tonight and maybe do some research about interesting places we can visit before we get to Scarlett’s tomorrow, but before I can get the words out, my headlights brighten a sign up ahead.
It’s not like a normal road sign. It’s wooden and well weathered, but the bright red writing practically screams at me.
HALLOWED SPRINGS – Next Right.
Come and Learn the legend of The Devil Pools!
While The Devil Pools sound absolutely terrifying, it’s the type of dark and mysterious that is right up Jovie’s alley.
And when I see the second sign swaying in the wind just below it, I make the instant decision and flick on my blinker.
Christmas Festival on NOW!
I do some quick math in my head, adding up how much cash I have left and how much I’m expecting to hit my account tomorrow from work at the bar—reminding myself that for once, there’s no rent waiting to swallow up three quarters of it.
Fuck it.
“How do we feel about a Christmas Festival?” I ask as we approach the off-ramp, my fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Jovie sits a little taller, interested, but not convinced. I roll my eyes before adding, “and something called The Devil Pools of Hallowed Springs?”
Her eyes widen, and a smile lights up her face. “Yes!”
I barely make the turn, a couple of cars behind me holding hard on their horns, but Jovie’s excited ranting quickly drowns them out.
“What do you think that means?”
“Do you think there’s some scary story that goes with it?”
“You think they’ll let me swim in the Devil Pool?”
Personally, I can’t think of anything worse, but a smile grows on my face as I listen to Jovie’s frustration blossom into excitement as we drive the windy, tree covered backroads, following the signs for Hallowed Springs and debating about what we’re going to find there.
It’s at least thirty minutes into the mountains before a welcome sign suddenly appears, and I can see the main street up ahead, lit up with Christmas lights, and barely dusted with snow.
“Holy shit,” Jovie whispers, and I choke out a laugh.
“Hey!”
“I mean, wow!” she corrects, sitting forward so her head’s next to my shoulder, poking through the two front seats. “It’s like a Christmas card.”
We cruise down the street, careful to avoid the people who seem to be using it as a sidewalk. There are string lights draped from every surface, and every shop is open and welcoming people inside, some advertising food, while others had clothes and knick-knacks decorating their front windows.
For a heartbeat, I think we’ve driven straight into a snow globe.
“Let’s find somewhere to stay, then we can have a look around,” I say, scanning up and down the streets for motel signs, but after hitting what seems like every corner of the small town, the consensus is the same.
No Vacancy.
