If he needed groceries in the meantime, he’d order them online and have them delivered from Whole Foods or something. He could even go a little hungry.
But when he got Boomer settled into the vehicle, he couldn’t help but pull a U-ey and make his way to Rescue Drive. The cabins were even more run-down than he remembered, the trailer park more shabby, too. He shouldn’t have come. It made him feel awful. He made his way back to the main drag and headed out of town, anxious to put Sweet Home behind him.
* * *
• • •
PINEY LOCKED THE door and watched through the window as Donovan and his dog got in the SUV. As she made her way upstairs to her apartment, a deliciously sneaky idea came over her. One that involved Hope, Donovan, and Ella. It wasn’t as if she’d had a clear vision. Except she could see that Ella’s future was bright, full of happiness, and overflowing with love.
She stepped into her home and pulled out her phone.
“Hello.”
“Hope? I need you to make an after-hours delivery. It just came in.”
Hope paused on the other end and Piney could tell she was debating whether to ask if it could wait until tomorrow. But Hope never let her down. Still, just in case . . .
“It’s an emergency,” Piney lied. Most of the time, if it was truly an emergency and the store was closed, Bill would do the run for her. “Sorry about this. Bill’s busy and can’t do it.” Another lie. Actually, Bill was ten feet away in the kitchen, just putting the finishing touches on a pot of caribou stew for Sparkle’s recovery.
Hope sighed. “Sure. No problem, especially since it’s an emergency. Where am I going?” The rustling on the other end told Piney that Hope was pulling on her coat.
“Home Sweet Home Lodge.” Piney made sure to sound as innocent as possible, and saying the whole title made it sound like an official request.
“But he was just in the store!”
Piney noticed that Hope didn’t use Donovan’s name.
“He needs food to get him through, buttercup.”
“I think you’re up to something,” Hope accused.
“Scout’s honor. He needs food,” Piney said, though she’d never been a scout.
Hope paused again, long enough that Piney was getting worried she would refuse.
“I could take the groceries,” Piney said. “That is, if you think it’s okay for me to leave Sparkle. You saw how she looked earlier.” Yes, she’d played the guilt card. And yes, she’d rescued Hope earlier from checking out Donovan’s groceries. But now that the initial shock was over, it was time for those two kids to kiss and make up!
“Fine,” Hope said petulantly. “I’ll be right there.”
“See you in a few.” Piney hung up.
“What are you up to?” Bill asked.
Piney jumped. “You scared me.”
“I heard you. Do I need to make a delivery?” He was reaching for his coat, which was slung over her chair.
“No. You relax.” Piney moved his coat and patted the recliner. “You put your feet up. You’ve been working hard in the kitchen.” This seemed like a role reversal, but Bill was too strong and burly to be considered effeminate in any way.
Bill grumbled as he took his place in the chair. “I know you’re up to something.”
When he was settled, Piney leaned over and laid her head against his. He didn’t like it when she told him how lucky she was to have him in her life, so she kept it to herself. Also she didn’t mind that he never said how much he cared for her because he was the type of man that showed it, every day in the little things he did—a Comfort quilt for Sparkle’s recovery, insisting on carrying the groceries up to the apartment for her and Sparkle, and fixing things around the store and up here, too. He was a grumbly old bear, but Piney loved him. She’d spent all these years, happy as a clam, without a man. But the last two years with him had been the happiest she’d ever known.
“Just give me a second. I’m going to run downstairs for a minute.” She handed him the remote. “Turn on the news and I’ll be right back to watch it with you.”
He grunted something close to okay.
Piney hurried downstairs and grabbed one of her three grocery carts, filling it up with anything and everything nonperishable, as she suspected Donovan might not have the refrigerator running yet. The grapevine hadn’t reported that the utility company had been out there.
She added up the amount and stapled a note to one of the bags: On credit. So he’d know that he wasn’t getting a free lunch.
There was a knock on the store’s door. It was Hope.
Piney turned off the lights, grabbed the bags, and unlocked the door. She walked out quickly. “Open the back.”
“What’s the rush?” Hope said.
Piney didn’t want her to see which bags she’d chosen for this delivery. “I just want to get back to Sparkle.”
Piney tried to ignore Hope’s dagger-filled eyes. Okay, she’s not happy, but it’s for her own good.
Piney hurried to put the bags in the back and closed the hatch quickly so Hope wouldn’t see them under the streetlight. It had been a long time since Piney had experienced this much fun.
“Isn’t that Bill’s pickup?” Hope asked, pointing to the evidence parked across the street.
“Bob Brewster picked him up and took him out to his place to fix one of the dogs’ runs.” Piney might be going to hell for lying so much in such a short period of time.
“What groceries could Donovan possibly need that he didn’t buy an hour ago?” Hope appeared agitated with both her and Donovan.
Piney only wished she could go along to watch the fireworks. “Make sure he doesn’t stiff you on the tip. He’s loaded, you know.”
Hope rolled her eyes, making her look exactly like her teenage daughter. She walked to the driver’s side and opened the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Piney would be eager to hear all about it.
But the truth was Hope never talked to anyone about Donovan. Not when he left. Not when she found out she was pregnant. There had been some speculation that the baby wasn’t Donovan’s at all. Hope went to stay with her aunt in the Yukon for a few weeks following Izzie’s death. Over the years, Piney had overheard Ella tell her friends that her dad had been a Yukon oil worker who’d died on the job. But Piney never believed it. Ella was the spitting image of Donovan—his hair, his eyes. Ella even paced like Donovan did when she was telling a story. Piney would have liked to be there when Hope broke the news to Donovan about his daughter.
She chuckled as she went back inside the store. Yes, with Donovan back in town, interesting days were upon them. Piney would make the most of them, especially since Ella’s bright future hung in the balance.
Chapter 3
HOPE STARTED HER vehicle and the trunk-open light flashed on. Grumbling, she hopped out to see what was wrong and found one of the bag handles hanging out. She opened the trunk to shove it back in and caught sight of which bags Piney had selected. One was made from Hope’s favorite blouse from high school. The other from one of Hope’s skirts. What was Piney thinking?
More accurately, what was Piney up to? She’d saved Hope from having to check out Donovan’s groceries, but then did the ol’ out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire bit. Hope did not appreciate it.
She started the car and sat there for a moment, stalling. She’d been so relieved the awkward encounter was over, and now she was driving out to the lodge for round two?
Wasn’t it just last week she’d decided to make a conscious effort to put the past behind her, and only look forward going forward? It was one of the reasons her favorite clothes from high school had been made into bags.
But now, her past was at the lodge. She put the car in gear, anxious to get this over with.
It started to snow, just a dusting, as it had seventeen years ago
, when she’d driven Donovan and Beau to the New Year’s Eve party. Donovan’s car had been in the shop, giving Hope the rare opportunity to drive them. She wished now that his car had been fine, or even better, that they’d never gone to the party at all. But she’d never wish away the one night she and Donovan had been intimate. Though people at church and throughout Sweet Home whispered behind her back and gave her sideways glances as her pregnancy started to show, it didn’t matter now. Hope couldn’t imagine life without her daughter.
It was moments like these she understood why her mother had hated Hope after the accident . . . for Hope had taken her child away.
She shook off her feelings of regret, guilt, and sadness.
How she wished for a simpler time. But happiness and contentment were always out of reach. She pulled away from the Hungry Bear.
The way her thoughts were bombarding her and how queasy her stomach felt, she was worried she might not make it out to the lodge in one piece. To calm her nerves, she turned on the radio, and providentially, one of her favorite songs was playing—Casting Crowns’ “Voice of Truth.” It always spoke to her, telling her not to be afraid. Peace filled the car and she made the rest of the trip without her hands shaking as she clung to the steering wheel.
The song ended as the lodge’s circular driveway came into view. She was shocked to see more than one vehicle. There was an SUV and a truck. Confusion and panic washed over her, making her want to turn the car around and drive away. Who did Donovan have with him? His wife?
Adding to her discomfort, Hope had expected the place to be lit up, as it was back when Charles and Elsie Stone had run the lodge. But there was only a faint flicker of light coming from the picture window.
Frowning, Hope sat there for a long minute, contemplating what to do. Finally, she slipped from the car and went to the trunk. Using her cell phone as a flashlight, she rummaged through Donovan’s bags, looking for evidence of a wife, girlfriend, or bimbo who might be in the house with him. But there were no fresh vegetables or fruits, no feminine products, just a load of junk food that guys usually bought. She glanced at the window. Wouldn’t Donovan be keeping an eye out for his groceries, as was the case with most deliveries?
No shadow of a man was visible.
A huge part of her wanted to set the groceries on the front stoop, tap the doorbell, and run—an adult version of ding dong ditch. But Hope was no coward. She marched up the steps to the double front doors—trying not to care that she wasn’t put together, like his wife probably was. Before reaching for the doorbell, Hope straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Instead of ringing the doorbell, she knocked.
She expected him to fling the door open, but it took a few minutes before there was sound on the other side. And when the door opened, instead of Donovan, a beautiful man in a parka stood there.
For a moment they both stood speechless. Finally, he smiled. “You must be Hope.” He yelled over his shoulder, “Donovan! You have company.”
“No, no.” Hope thrust the bags at him. “I’m just here to drop off groceries.”
Donovan must have been nearby, because he appeared at the beautiful man’s shoulder, frowning at her outstretched arms with the groceries dangling from her hands.
“Here. Take them.” Hope jiggled the bags.
“Take what?” Donovan asked.
“Your groceries.” She did a mini thrust this time. Whatever she was doing with her arms, she was trying to compel one of them to take the food so she could escape to her car.
The other man held the door wide. “Come in to get out of the cold.”
Donovan was shaking his head no, while the other man gently took her arm and pulled her inside.
“Let me take those.” Mr. Kind and Beautiful gave her a warm smile, the opposite of the Grinchy expression on Donovan’s face. “I’m Rick, by the way. Rick Miller, Donovan’s business manager. I’m sorry he’s being so rude.” Rick gave Donovan a pointed look before grabbing the bags and heading to the dining room table. “Go stand by the fire. You’re shaking.”
Yes, Hope was shaking, but it had nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the boy she used to love.
* * *
• • •
DONOVAN WAS SHOCKED for the second time in an hour. Why was Hope at the lodge? Was she trying to dig around in his life? “What are you doing here?”
Hope looked at him as if he were a bonehead. “I’m delivering the groceries you ordered.”
“I didn’t—” He stopped himself.
They stared at each other for a long minute, frowning.
“Piney,” they said together, disgusted.
“What in the world was Piney thinking?” he said out loud, but mostly to himself.
Hope looked decidedly unhappy. “Half the time, I don’t believe she thinks at all. She calls it instinct.”
This wasn’t the old Hope he knew. Old Hope would’ve smiled, especially where it concerned him.
For a second, he wished for the old Hope back.
But in the next second, he didn’t. He was happy with his life . . . without her.
Boomer wandered over to Hope. She picked him up and held him close, like a security blanket.
Ludicrously, Donovan had a tinge of envy, wanting to be the dog.
Rick stood there with a goofy grin on his face, until Donovan gave him the look—like he better stop enjoying himself.
Rick took the hint. “I’ll put the groceries away.” He might as well have said, I’ll leave you two alone.
Donovan scanned Hope, comparing his memory of young Hope to current Hope. Current Hope needed to eat more, smile more, and get more rest, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication. What happened to her after he left? “So you’re still in Sweet Home?” It was a leading question, but he wanted answers . . . whether she wanted to give them or not.
Her lips turned into a stubborn straight line, letting him know she wasn’t going to respond. She pointed to the other room. “How does Rick know who I am?”
“Intuition,” Donovan deadpanned.
“I don’t think so,” Hope said.
She was all attitude, no longer the sweet go-along-with-anything-he-said girl. And the weird thing was, he kind of liked her this way.
Hope straightened her shoulders and stared him down. “Where’s your wife?”
Once again, she’d caught him off guard.
“I left her at home,” Donovan lied, trying to be as brazen as Hope.
Rick hollered from the kitchen, “Don’t let him fool you, Hope. He’s not married.” He stuck his head around the corner. “Never found the right woman.”
Donovan raised an eyebrow at Rick. “I think you should go outside and check for bears. Take some food with you. They like that.” Which reminded Donovan that he should pick up bear repellent if they were going to be here for a few days. Maybe a rifle, too. And Grandpa used to keep a soup can filled with marbles on the porch to scare them away.
“I’ll pass,” Rick said. “The kitchen is calling me.”
“What’s your dog’s name?” Hope nuzzled the dog, not meeting Donovan’s eye.
He frowned at his charge. “He’s not necessarily my dog.”
“Yes, he is,” came from the kitchen. “And the dog’s name is Boomer.”
Hope smiled and pointed to the other room. “I like your business manager.” Her face was contorted, as if she couldn’t comprehend why anyone would need a business manager.
“He’s worthless,” Donovan said loud enough for Rick to hear. “I really should fire him.” Donovan moved closer to the fireplace, where Hope stood. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
She stared at him wide-eyed but finally answered, “Ella.”
The name rocked him. “For Isabella?”
Hope nodded, this time with all the sadness in th
e world. “Yes.”
He went to a safer subject. “How’s your dad doing?”
Misery filled Hope’s eyes and they began to mist. “He’s gone. Heart attack, last month.”
He reached out to touch her but stopped himself. “Oh, Hope. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
She moved her head as if trying to shake off the grief. “I heard about your grandfather. He meant a lot to all of us. As did your grandmother.”
For a moment, mutual grief filled the room. That one small connection felt like old times. Hope had always been so empathetic—issuing compassion as easily as if sharing a Ziploc bag of Oreos during lunch period. But they weren’t kids anymore and he wasn’t in the mood.
He stepped away. “Rick, what are you doing in there?”
A second later, Rick came into the room with a tray of chips, Pop-Tarts, and nuts, arranged like hors d’oeuvres.
“Are you kidding me?” Donovan exclaimed. The guy had been an elite Marine Force Recon and now he was acting like Martha Stewart.
Rick set the tray on the side table closest to Hope. “You have a guest. It’s only right you feed her.”
Hope did need to gain some weight. “Eat,” Donovan said.
Rick sighed heavily. “Sorry about him. He usually has manners.” He snatched a Pop-Tart before taking the seat across from her. “So Donovan tells me you were a better shot than him when you were kids.”
Surprised, she glanced at Donovan for a split second before answering Rick. “I just have better depth perception.”
“I’m the one who taught her how to shoot!” Donovan complained. He could’ve told her he’d qualified for Expert in the Corps, but he didn’t.
Rick nudged the tray toward her. “Please have something. I don’t like to eat alone.”
Yeah, Donovan had heard his friend use that line many times on unsuspecting females. Rick oozed charm. And suddenly, Donovan got worried. If Rick spent too much time around Hope, she’d fall for him, like all women did.
“She better go.” Donovan approached Hope, not to hug her good-bye but to take the dog.
One Snowy Night Page 5