The shrill shrieks and panicked footsteps from her daughter’s bedroom early Saturday morning caused Maranda’s heart to skip a beat. She dropped the skillet into the dishwater. Liz stood behind her already, tears streaking her flushed face.
“I need water. I need water. They’re all gonna die.”
Maranda relaxed a bit when she realized this chaos was about the fish. She reached for the large red mixing bowl and filled it with tepid water. “I’ll carry it for you.”
Liz shook her head. “I can do it. Just hurry.”
This would be the third time this month that Liz or Jonas knocked over the goldfish bowl in Liz’s room. Maranda would have to move the fish to the kitchen counter for everyone’s sanity.
“Be careful!” Liz walked stiff-armed, the bowl sloshing water over its sides all down the hallway. Maranda had mopped the day before.
She searched under the sink for the goldfish net and treatment kit. Poor things probably wouldn’t survive this time. There were two left out of the three the kids had won at the fair last summer. Maranda didn’t think fair fish were supposed to survive the car ride home, but here they were, still feeding and caring for them.
Three more mouths, albeit small ones, on her meager bank teller’s salary.
She didn’t want to deal with two fish bowls, so the kids took turns taking care of them. One month on. One month off. The first time the bowl spilled, Jonas had been trying to steal it back to his room and had tripped in the hallway, so he’d lost a month of fish privileges.
Maranda filled a pitcher with water, added the treatment drops and carried it to Liz’s room.
Liz sat on the floor, back to the door, transferring her beloveds to the red mixing bowl from the carpet, talking softly to each one.
But the goldfish bowl sat on the dresser and the three fish swam peacefully in circles.
“Liz, whatcha got there?”
“They were gonna die, Mommy. I couldn’t let them die.”
Maranda knelt beside her daughter on the wet carpet. Glitter and glass and tiny figurines had scattered all over the floor. Liz picked through the glass to find each caroler dressed in reds and greens, the Big Ben clock tower and the tiny puppy and kitten that had been part of the mural under the dome.
Her small fingers bled tinges of pink onto the cream carpet and stained her jeans as she wiped them on her knees after transferring two of the carolers into the red mixing bowl. Maranda grabbed Liz’s hands, forcing her to make eye contact.
“Mommy, please, I can’t find the man. The little man in the white scarf.” She tried to pull away.
“Let me help you, sweetheart. You’re cutting your fingers on the glass.”
Liz yanked away hard. “I don’t care. He’s suffocating. I have to find him.”
“Liz! I said let me help.” Maranda couldn’t care less about the snow globe inhabitants. She only wanted to prevent Liz from doing further damage to herself. She scanned the carpet, but didn’t see the figure. The base of the globe had landed next to the fish, tipped on its side. It must’ve fallen from the shelf above.
She rose to inspect the dresser. The little man, caught under the weight of the base, lay in three tiny parts.
“Here he is.” She held out the broken figure for Liz to see.
“No!” she wailed and grabbed the caroler from Maranda’s palm, leaving drops of blood in his place.
Liz gently dropped the parts into the water, pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed. Maranda joined her daughter on the floor and wrapped her arms around the heartbroken child. She kissed the top of her head. “We’ll figure out how to fix it. We’ll find a way to make it okay.” She pulled Liz’s face up by the chin to meet hers. “But we have to get your fingers looked at first.”
“I killed him, Mommy. I killed the little man.”
“No, sweetheart. It was an accident.”
“Daddy said. Daddy said I should take real good care of it and now I’ve killed the little man.” She pulled away from Maranda and sobbed into her kneecaps again.
Tom had picked up the snow globe for Liz two years ago on his way home from deployment. He gave Jonas his combat helmet. He greeted Maranda with a hand-crafted snow globe that contained a figurine of a long-stemmed white rose, much like the one she’d carried on their wedding day, though his much-awaited presence after a long stint in the desert would have been enough for her. He’d made it home in time for Christmas that year.
It was the last Christmas they’d spent together.
And then Maranda understood. The globe was the last gift Tom had given Liz. They’d spent hours tipping it this way and that, watching the glittering snow dust swirl and settle. They would make up stories and personalities for the carolers. They’d even named the dog and cat.
He’d built the shelf above her dresser for the globe and promised to bring her one each time he came back from deployment.
Maranda choked back tears and lifted the protesting Liz from the carpet. “We have to take you to the clinic.” Liz wrapped arms and legs around her tightly and nestled her head in the crook of Maranda’s neck, soaking her t-shirt with tears and blood.
A muffled “What about the people?” came between tears.
“They’ll be fine in the bowl until we get home. Jonas! Come quick. We’re going to town!” Maranda grabbed keys, purse and her grumpy ten-year-old boy and loaded them into the CR-V.
#
After filling up at the gas station, the bribery McDonald’s Happy Meals, the clinic’s co-pay to pick tiny shards of glass out of three little fingers and glue a laceration on Liz’s palm, Maranda was nearly out of cash.
She dropped the kids off at Tom’s mother’s, a relationship forged with much trial and error after Tom’s passing, and returned home to clean up the mess in peace. She feared Liz would sprint to her bedroom and reinjure herself checking on the people in the red bowl.
Two hours later, after she had a fan drying the carpet, the red bowl drained and refilled with glass-free water to cover the people, including the sawed-in-half man with the broken arm, and some light housekeeping, she was ready to solve the problem of the snow globe.
She searched online for a similar globe to no avail. Liz wouldn’t fall for it anyway. The kid never missed a detail. She turned the base over in her hands; the dome was shattered beyond repair. With the right tools, one might be able to scrape away the remnants of the globe from the base and start from scratch. But she had no idea where to begin.
For kicks, she searched for snow globe repair, but the closest thing was a watch and grandfather clock repair shop ten miles away in the old downtown Bellview. She’d only been to that neighborhood a couple of times, to the antique shops with Tom’s mother on one of their attempts at bonding.
It was worth a try. The shop was still open and she could pick up the kids on the way home. She retrieved the emergency credit card taped behind the dresser. If Tom were here, he’d say she was being silly, spending the money on such a trivial thing. But Tom wasn’t here, and the globe and its history were part of him. And very much a part of Liz’s memories of him.
On her way out of the bedroom, she paused to pick up the white rose globe he’d given her. Maybe the dome could be used from this one to repair Liz’s. She’d keep the rose, of course, but Liz could have the parts. She wrapped the globe securely in a pillow case and retrieved the broken base and the bowl from the kitchen.
She had no idea why she kept water over the figures. At least she’d honestly be able to tell Liz that she hadn’t let anyone suffocate on her watch.
#
Maranda struggled to open the door to the shop with her full hands. She should’ve just dumped the water and put the figures in a baggie, but her mommy brain was worn thin.
The shop was dimly lit except for a magnifying lamp attached to a metal arm and hooked to the end of a long wooden work table. The lone employee acknowledged her, but did not look up, when the door chime sounded behind her. His hands were the brightest things in the room under the harsh light.
“Be with you in just a moment.”
She readjusted the load in her arms and took in row upon row of clocks. Some hung on the walls, some grandfather models towered above shorter shelves with even more timepieces. One wall was devoted entirely to cuckoos. They all ticked and tocked to their own rhythm and she wondered how anyone could concentrate with the cacophony of beats.
“Okay. How may I help you?” The man stood, removed the lighted headpiece and offered her a hand. When he realized she couldn’t shake hands, he helped her set down the red bowl, base and pillowcase. “Well, that’s certainly not a clock.” He picked up the base and turned it over in his hands.
Maranda explained what had happened and her difficulty in finding a solution. She left out the sentimental aspect, as most anyone could guess by the effort she took that the snow globe was special.
“Well, I do have some tools and an epoxy that might work. I’ll be honest, though. This would be my first snow globe procedure.” He smiled and met her with the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She was surprised that he wasn’t a gray-haired, hunchbacked old guy that had worked the shop all his life. She hadn’t been expecting someone close to her age.
He offered his hand once again, and she shook it. He grinned again and said, “It looks like you really did have a rough day.”
Maranda pulled back and looked down at her shirt. A hot mess of dishwater, glitter and blood. In the chaos, she’d forgotten what she must look like. She blushed and looked down to the polished concrete floor.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass. I can tell it’s been a long day.” He turned to the table and the red bowl. Most of the water had sloshed out into the floormats on the way to the repair shop. “I’ll do what I can to help save your little girl’s carolers. It may not be exactly the same, but at least they’ll be back under water.”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but she really thought they would die if we didn’t—”
“No, no. Not ridiculous at all.” He fished out the broken man and held the parts in his palm. “After I’ve finished, I’ll give you a call. And bring the kids in next time. They’d like to hear the clocks go off, I’m sure.” He nodded over his shoulder toward the wall of cuckoos.
“Well, apparently they’re both accident prone. I’m not sure you’d want them in your—”
“Nonsense. There’s nothing broken that can’t be fixed.”
Maranda tried not to tear up, though she had no idea where the emotion was coming from. Probably stress and the weight of the day.
She turned to leave when the man said, “I’m Rick, by the way. It was nice to meet you.” Maranda looked back and smiled, blushed again, and stumbled out the door.
#
On Sunday, Maranda found herself checking her phone. She didn’t know if it was because of Liz’s constant questions about whether Mr. Rick from the clock shop could fix her globe or something else. The shop wouldn’t open again until Monday. She shouldn’t expect a call until tomorrow or Tuesday, and she explained as much to Liz.
She went about fixing the kids’ lunches and laying out school clothes for the next day. She couldn’t put her finger on what she was experiencing. She was anxious about the bill for the repair. Anxious about the bills for everything, but that kind of anxiety she was used to, and had been for quite some time.
She sliced an apple and divided it between two plates alongside the pizza rolls and called the kids to the table. What she felt was more like anticipation. Some foreign emotion that had a slight familiarity to it.
Jonas reached the table first and promptly knocked over his glass of milk. She curbed the surge of angry aggravation, grabbed a towel for the mess and refilled his glass.
No wonder she couldn’t figure herself out. She’d been in survival mode for over two years.
She was clearing the dishes when the phone rang. Her hands were full, as they always seemed to be, and she couldn’t get to the call before it went to voicemail. After she shoved sidewalk chalk at the kids and then shoved them out the back door, she retrieved the message.
It was Rick.
Her heart stopped. Like it used to when she and Tom were dating.
Waves of guilt washed over her and she didn’t even hear the message. She sank to the kitchen floor and tried to gather herself before one of the kids walked in. After she chided herself for the apparent school girl crush, she hit replay and listened this time.
The snow globe was fixed. She could pick it up today. Sunday. If she came before three, he’d set all the cuckoos to go off at the same time for the kids to see.
She straddled indecision on whether to call him back and let him know she’d come or to simply show up. She decided to call.
No. Never mind. She’d just text the number back: Okay, be there before three.
When she hit send, her pulse quickened, another wave of guilt and shame and beads of sweat started on her forehead. Oh. My. Word. Then it occurred to her she may have texted a landline. But her phone said “sent.”
The reply was quick: Great. Looking forward to meeting Miss Liz and her brother.
It was two o’clock. Time to round up the natives.
#
She stopped the kids on the sidewalk in front of the clock store. “What did I say?”
In unison they replied, “Don’t touch anything.”
“What else?”
“Be nice,” Jonas rolled his eyes and she tapped him on the back of the head.
“Say thank you.” Liz jumped on her tip toes. Maranda had barely had time to rebandage her hands before they left, the sidewalk chalk and driveway dirt had taken their toll on the wraps.
Maranda held open the door and whispered, “Don’t touch anything. Not one thing.”
“Woah!” Jonas was off, running his index finger over two grandfather clocks before Maranda could stop him.
“It’s okay, really. Do you like those?” Rick held out his hand in greeting, Jonas shook it without taking his eyes off the biggest clock in the shop.
“I’m so sorry. I told them not to—”
“It really is okay. You can relax.” His smile stirred up butterflies she hadn’t felt for fifteen years.
“You must be Liz. I think I have something for you.” Rick led her to the worktable where he pointed to a lump underneath a hunter green cloth. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, wide-eyed, her bandaged hands resting on the edge of the table.
Rick pulled the cloth from the globe. Maranda and Jonas bent behind her for a closer look.
“Mom! It’s amazing! And look at the little man!” She couldn’t take her eyes off the globe. Rick had reassembled the carolers—in a different configuration of course—but all of them were accounted for. Even the dog and the cat. Big Ben stood proudly in the distance and the little man now wore a belt around his waist and his arm hung in a sling.
“Rick, how did you even think to do this? This is amazing!”
Rick stood up tall behind the table. “I enjoyed working on something so unique and so different. It really was a blast.” He turned to Liz. “I hope the little man is to your liking.”
“He’s just great. Just great!” She reached for the globe, but Rick stopped her.
“Here. I think this will work best for the ride home.” He put the repaired snow globe into a box lined with Styrofoam and shut the lid. “Leave it on the table until 3:01, though.”
Liz looked confused. “Why?”
Rick winked at her and said, “You’ll see.”
About then the clocks, hundreds of clocks, struck three. The cuckoo wall came alive with all manner of birds, elves, forest creatures and dancing Swiss children. Jonas and Liz were awestruck. Maranda, despite the racket, enjoyed the display as much as the children.
As the minute wound down, the clocks swallowed their inhabitants behind tiny wooden doors, and the shop returned to its unkept rhythm.
“I have something for you too, Jonas.” The boy whirled his attention from the wall to the shopkeeper, who held a plastic bag and a wooden box. Inside the bag were gears, clock hands and even a cuckoo bird. Inside the box, Rick showed him, were tiny tools, screw, and hinges.
“I got my start when I was about your age. I was allowed to play with the spare parts and see what I could come up with. Would you like to try?” Rick offered him the goodies, Jonas nodded and, without being asked, said thank you.
As she watched Rick and her children, Maranda felt a deep pang of guilt and sorrow. This brief interaction was the closest her kids had come to having a father figure in a long time. One to encourage. One to fix the broken things.
One to dream with.
She brushed away a rogue tear and faked a sneeze, a very bad fake sneeze, into the crook of her elbow.
Rick looked at her with those warm eyes and said, “Did you think I’d forget about you?” He motioned her to the table and pointed to another lump. This one under a purple cloth. “I used every part of your globe to fix hers. Except for two things.” He lifted the purple cloth.
Under it, in a clear crystal vase, was the white rose.
“Mommy, see? He knows. He knows the things in the globes need water.” Indeed, Rick had filled the little vase with real water, and situated the rose inside.
Maranda was speechless. She brought her hands up to her face to hide her emotion and choked out a thank you.
He boxed up the rose and Jonas’s clock parts. He handed the repaired globe in its box to Liz and helped them out the door.
Once the kids were in the car, he pulled Maranda to the sidewalk and handed her a pink slip of paper. “Oh, I almost forgot to pay you.” She reached for her purse, but he put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“It’s not a bill. There’s no charge. Really. You brought me all the parts I needed, so—”
“I insist—”
“I won’t take your money.” Rick nodded to the paper. “I found that. In the base of your globe under the felt pad. I didn’t read it, I promise. But the paper is much newer than the globe, so I thought whoever gave you the rose, must’ve left you a note.”
She didn’t try to stop the torrent of tears this time. She turned the paper over in her hand and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He squeezed her arm and went back into the shop.
#
She helped Liz make room on her dresser for the snow globe to prevent a repeat episode. She relocated the fair fish to the kitchen counter in the process.
Jonas sat at the table, engrossed in gears and screws and hinges.
Maranda retreated to her bedroom, pulled the pink paper from her jeans and sat on the edge of the bed. She unfolded it slowly, the creases crisp from the weight of the water under the dome.
Tom’s scrawl was unmistakable.
I’m going to the front lines. I couldn’t bear to tell you, and I’m such a coward to leave a note in a place you may never find it. I love you, Maranda.
Be happy. Help the kids find joy.
And, when the time is right, find love again.
She wiped away the tears, refolded the note and placed it under the vase on her nightstand.
Maranda smiled. Perhaps the time was now.
