Page 11 of With All My Heart, Joy

She hesitated as she set the package beside the front door to take it to the post office. She’d have to pay extra postage for the thick package to disguise the gift card inside. And she didn’t really have the time to go to the post office. Why was she doing this?

Honestly, she didn’t have a clue. All she knew was that doing it made her feel really good. For these strangers who had been robbed of whatever gift a loving mother and grandmother had wanted them to have, she was doing something that mattered.

Mattering meant a whole lot to her.

On a roll, she reached for her phone and opened a blank note, bulleting a list with five points.

“I’m thankful for…” She tapped her lips. “I know. My sponsors. Gift cards. The United States Post Office.” She spoke aloud as she typed. “Walking shoes. Fall.”

There. That wasn’t so hard.

She ate a quick lunch—a sandwich and an apple. Mr. Miller would be proud. On the way to the post office, she called Lucy for her first real check-in.

“Doing great today!”

“I’m so glad. Isaac was pretty tight-lipped about your appointment last night.”

“Wait, you saw him?”

“He’s Silas’s best friend. We see him often.”

Okay, maybe going with a counselor who was known to her family wasn’t such a smart idea. But too late for regret. Besides, she didn’t regret it. Not yet, anyway.

After waiting in a much-too-long line at the post office, Joy met an old high school pal in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby. Danny was always willing to help her shoot videos. He worked nights and was available any day after one o’clock. What she needed was more Christmas decorations for her apartment. It was the type of content that did the best on her lifestyle channel, Joy Lives Life, but it was difficult to film it herself. Having a cameraman garnered more strange looks, but she’d become immune to that years ago.

Two hours later and a lot of money poorer, Joy walked out of Hobby Lobby with bulging bags clutched in her hands. Danny moved behind her smoothly, the camcorder tracking her every movement.

“I call this a successful haul!” Joy lifted a bag triumphantly as she stopped beside the trunk of her car. “Check your notifications to watch when I decorate my new apartment and give an official tour. Don’t forget to follow me on Instagram if you don’t already.” Managing her traditional peace sign with so many plastic bags dangling from her hands took some work. “I’m out for now!”

Danny knew the cue to cut the recording, then lowered the camera. “Well done. I tried to keep it smooth, but it’ll need some editing.”

Editing. The bane of her existence. Such a timesuck. “Thank you so much. I owe you. Chocolate chip or molasses?” She paid him in baked goods, and he seemed content with that and the occasional appearance in her vlog.

Masculine shoulders rolled beneath his coat like he was getting ready to pitch a baseball. “I was thinking, actually, that maybe we could go out to dinner. Today. Together. On a date.”

Joy settled her bags in the trunk of her dark blue Nissan Versa, taking more time than necessary to situate them. She didn’t want to offend Danny. He was nice. Super nice. But she wasn’t interested. Because she wasn’t interested in anyone right now. What guy would stick with her once he knew about her depression?

“Thanks for the offer, Danny.” She faced him with her practiced smile. Her screen smile. Not the one she’d worn in Mr. Miller’s office yesterday. “But I’m not looking for anyone to date right now, so I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

He shrugged, a flippant motion. “It was worth a shot. Chocolate chip. See you ’round, Joy.”

She watched him saunter away. A woman with a plunging neckline crossed his path when he was almost to his car, and he let out a wolf whistle. Joy shook her head as she slid behind her steering wheel. “I’m glad that went so…deep.”

She was already behind on content creation for the day thanks to her Good Samaritan shenanigans, so she flirted dangerously with the speed limit as she drove back home. When she walked through the front door of her ground-level apartment, half-unpacked boxes met her eyes, her kitchen in shambles. Her to-do list was open on her computer, and the weight of all she must do to keep her livelihood going sank through her like a massive boulder.

The euphoric feelings she’d floated on since midday yesterday popped like an enormous soap bubble, and she struggled not to land on the floor. Time to get busy or get replaced.

The afternoon passed much too quickly as she unpacked, pausing to film her devotional for tomorrow and post the blog she’d written from her bed this morning. The shopping spree video still needed editing, and her mom had called earlier asking her to come over for dinner. Not happening.

She pulled out her phone, ignoring the tug of her heart toward the place she’d called home from the day she was born. From the day she wasn’t supposed to be born…

Joy: Sorry, Mom. Work stuff came up. I won’t make it tonight.

She left her phone on the kitchen counter and walked to the closet she had just organized. Her craft closet. She hadn’t posted a craft video in days. Which was unacceptable.

When she returned to the kitchen, a reply was visible on her phone screen.

Mom: But Joy, it’s been so long since you were home.

---