One Snowy Night

by Patience Griffin

  “I guess I’ll have to thank Donovan—right before I tell him to mind his own business,” Hope said, as she methodically shoved the food into the fridge.

  When she was done, she pulled out her sewing machine to work on the curtains for Wandering Moose Cabin. It was a small act of rebellion, since Donovan wanted her to make the curtains during work hours at the lodge. “This should make up for the groceries he bought me.”

  As she pressed the fabric, she visualized the cabin on a bright summer’s day, the breeze blowing the curtains, making the cabin feel fresh and light. Guests would certainly enjoy the Alaskan flavor of the fabric . . . Her smile faded. The curtains would soon be replaced by his interior decorator. The thought stalled her pressing and she switched off the iron, frowning. She shouldn’t be waxing poetic about the lodge. She didn’t have a stake in it. Or in Donovan, for that matter. She shouldn’t be putting the smallest piece of her heart into the lodge when it was only going to be sold off soon.

  She went to the pantry and pulled out the peanut butter and bread. But after fixing a sandwich and sitting in front of the TV to eat, she wasn’t in the mood for a sitcom or a drama. Her life seemed full of both right now—her daughter’s drinking problem, getting laid off from the grocery store, and having her emotions unreasonably wrapped up in Donovan Stone . . . again. Not even Hollywood would pick up a story as outlandish as hers. She ate her sandwich with the wind howling outside the window, and when she was done, she stretched out on the couch to wait up for Ella.

  She must’ve fallen asleep because Izzie cleared her throat. Hope opened her eyes and saw her sitting on the armrest at the end of the couch.

  “So, you got fired from the Hungry Bear?” Izzie said gleefully.

  “I didn’t get fired. I was laid off. There’s a difference.”

  “Either way, you no longer work there,” her sister said. “I’m glad. You needed a change of pace.”

  “Should I say I have a new job or do you already know that?”

  Izzie stroked her chin thoughtfully, as if she were an old man smoothing down his beard. “Hmm . . . Donovan as your boss? How’s that going?”

  Good and bad. But Hope wasn’t in the mood to confess that it hadn’t been as horrible as she’d expected.

  “He’s going to pay child support,” Hope reported instead.

  “That will make him feel better, knowing he’s helping Ella. And helping you,” Izzie said.

  “I’m so confused,” Hope admitted. She still loved Donovan. And there was nothing she could do about it. Time and distance hadn’t diminished her feelings. Chastising herself hadn’t worked either. Every time she banished him from her mind, his image would somehow weasel its way back into her soul and put down roots . . . deeper than before. Should she accept that she would always love him like this, be in this much pain?

  “I know you’re confused. And conflicted,” Izzie said, leaning her head against the cushion while gazing at Hope.

  “Having Donovan here has turned everything upside down—” Hope started.

  “Mom?”

  Hope came awake.

  Ella stood in the opened front door, looking at Hope as if she’d lost it. “Who are you talking to?” Ella scanned the room. “Is someone else here?”

  Hope sat up. “No,” she said honestly as Izzie faded away.

  “But you were talking as if . . .” Ella trailed off.

  “Come sit here, Ella. I have some things to tell you about myself.”

  Chapter 11

  HOPE PATTED THE couch beside her. “Shut the door and then sit next to me.”

  Ella froze, looking worried. “Are you sick?”

  What could Hope say, that her heart had been broken a long time ago and never healed? “No, honey, I’m not sick. I’m as healthy as ever.” Now, her mental health, well, that was a different story.

  Ella settled in beside her and Hope wrapped an arm around her shoulder. It felt good to have her daughter relax into her like she had when she was little.

  Hope smoothed down Ella’s hair. “Sometimes, when I’m stressed, I dream about your Aunt Izzie. I tell her what’s going on with me, you, Piney . . . everyone.”

  “Does she talk back?” Ella asked.

  Hope nodded. “Yes.” She sighed, thinking about Izzie’s sage advice and the sharp words that usually went along with it. “I know I’m dreaming, but it feels so real. I’m sure it’s a defense mechanism to help me deal with my day. She helps me sort through what’s bothering me, especially if something unexpected happens.”

  Ella turned her head up and stared into Hope’s face. “What happened? What’s bothering you now?”

  Hope ripped the Band-Aid off. “The Hungry Bear. I no longer work there. Piney laid me off.”

  Ella pulled away. “She can’t do that! You’ve been there forever. You practically run the place.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, Ella.” Though Piney had relied on Hope to take over for her on many occasions. “It wasn’t personal,” she said soothingly, trying to pacify Ella and to calm herself as well. “Sparkle’s surgery cost a lot of money.”

  “What are you going to do for a job? Are we going to have to move to Anchorage like Wes Splitlinger’s family, when his mom lost her job?” Ella teared up. “I don’t want to move. I want to graduate with all my friends at Sweet Home High.”

  Hope put her hand on Ella’s arm. “We’re not moving, sweetie. I already found a job.” More like the job found her.

  “Where?”

  Hope knew the relief in Ella’s voice would be erased with her next words. “I took a job at Home Sweet Home Lodge.”

  Ella stared at her as if she didn’t understand. “The lodge? Why? Are you trying to get back together with him? Or are you trying to force me to like him?”

  “Heavens, no! You know why I had to take the job. I have to work. To pay for rent, utilities, food.”

  “So that’s why you were talking about . . .” Apparently Ella couldn’t say her father’s name.

  “Donovan,” Hope provided. “Yes.”

  “I don’t want you working there! He never made an effort to get to know me, so why should I want to know him?” Ella started to stand, but Hope gently gripped her arm.

  “Sit back down. There are things I have to tell you. I’ve known Donovan my whole life, and I’ve loved him that long, too. From the moment he moved in next door.”

  “Loved him? How old were you?” Ella asked, almost accusingly.

  “Six years old.”

  “No one can fall in love when they’re six.”

  “I would certainly agree with you if it hadn’t happened to me.”

  “And what about him? Did he fall in love with you then?”

  “No. But we were great friends. I’d even call us best friends if he and his brother Beau hadn’t been so close.”

  “Beau?” Ella said, surprised.

  “Yeah, Beau,” Hope said, watching as Ella clicked the pieces into place.

  “Okay. Now I get the Beau thing.”

  Hope had given her daughter the middle name Beau. Isabella Beau McKnight. Which wasn’t common knowledge around Sweet Home. If they did know, they would only think it was because Beau died in the car along with Izzie that snowy night.

  Ella continued on. “But if Donovan was your best friend, does that mean that you talked to him like I talk to Lacy? Like, about everything? That seems crazy.”

  “Oh, yes. We were always together. We played all the time. Ran in the woods and fished in the river behind the lodge.” It all came back to Hope, their magical childhood. She wondered if Donovan remembered it as she did. Running wild and exploring the world. “Although it all changed when we hit high school,” Hope said quietly.

  “How did it change?” Ella asked. “Is that when he turned into a jackass?” She looked as if she had firsthand knowl
edge of how boys could do that.

  “Hormones,” Hope said truthfully. “Girls. Donovan was very popular. Star quarterback. Good looks.”

  “So the jerk started ignoring you?” Ella asked.

  “First of all, Donovan isn’t a jerk. And no, he didn’t ignore me,” Hope said. “He just continued to treat me like his pal and tell me about his exploits.”

  “Like I said—a jerk!”

  “In his defense, Ella, he had no idea I cared for him in that way. Then . . .”

  “Then what? Did you finally tell him that you loved him?”

  “He woke up when I told him I didn’t want to hear about his dates anymore. That I would no longer give him advice,” Hope said. And he certainly didn’t like it when she’d finally accepted Jesse Montana’s invitation to go out with him.

  “But how did . . . I happen?” Ella asked with a grimace.

  “You were not a one-night stand, sweetheart, if that’s what you were thinking. I admit, you weren’t planned, but your dad and I were going steady by then. We had plans for a future together. College. Marriage. Kids. The whole nine yards.”

  Ella stood, her face turning red and angry, her hands curled into fists. “Did he leave you when he found out you were pregnant with me?”

  “Calm down. You were at the lodge—you saw that Donovan had no idea he had a child.”

  “Then what happened? Why didn’t you tell him about me?” Ella asked, her voice pitched higher than before.

  Hope wrapped her hand around Ella’s hand and stood, too. “Izzie wasn’t the only one who was in the car with me that night, when I . . . when I’d been drinking.”

  “Who else was with you?”

  Hope’s stomach lurched. “Donovan and his brother Beau.”

  “So what does that have to do with him not knowing about me?” Ella asked.

  “Beau died in the accident along with Izzie.”

  “His brother?” Ella looked stunned.

  “Yes. I killed Donovan’s brother.” Hope wrapped Ella in a hug. “Donovan was very, very angry. He left Sweet Home and never returned.” Until now.

  “But you loved him.” Ella began to cry.

  “Yes, and I’m sure Donovan loved me.” This next part would be the hardest, being truthful about something that hurt so much. “But, Ella, sometimes love just isn’t enough.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry I ruined your life!” Ella sobbed into her shoulder.

  “Hush, sweetheart. You did not ruin my life.” Hope’s vision became blurry with tears. “I’ve been lucky. So lucky. Because I’ve had you all these years.” She suddenly realized the depth of what she’d done to Donovan by not telling him the truth. He’d missed out on the most precious thing in life . . . his daughter. “I love you, Ella.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Hope stroked her daughter’s hair. “Now that you know everything, will you give your dad a chance?”

  “Mom, I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  Hope wanted to say more. Wanted to ask if Ella finally understood why she had to stop drinking, because alcohol ruined lives, irreversibly. But Hope didn’t want to chance pushing Ella away. The last eight days had been hell. She had to hold on to this moment, hold on to her daughter for just a little bit longer.

  * * *

  • • •

  DONOVAN TRIED TO settle in for the night but he felt jumpy. He never should’ve agreed to have Hope work at the lodge. The scent of her damned flowery shampoo was everywhere. Finally, he put on his coat, picked up Boomer, and grabbed his keys from the counter before heading for the door.

  “Yeah, I know you don’t like the dark, Boomer,” Donovan said, “and I know you just want to climb into my bed and go to sleep for the night. But we’re going to take another drive.” To take his mind off Hope. To leave the day behind. To forget kissing her and holding her in his arms.

  He drove with no destination in mind but ended up at the entrance to the cemetery again.

  He looked down at Boomer. “I didn’t plan it, but I guess you and I are going to visit Beau.” It was strange. This was Donovan’s third trip to the cemetery since coming back to Sweet Home. Yes, he’d thought about Beau throughout the years, but he never imagined he’d spend so much time at his grave.

  Also strange? That being here was comforting.

  Leaving the headlights on, he climbed out of the car and walked with Boomer over to Beau’s headstone. Donovan laid the red Hot Wheels car atop the grave marker. “I thought I might hang on to this, but I think it belongs here with you, Beau.”

  He crouched down and set Boomer next to him.

  “I’m trying to forgive Hope, I really am, but I might not be able to. I hope you understand, Beau.” Donovan sighed deeply. “I’m still wrapping my head around it, that I have a daughter. You know I always wanted kids . . .” His voice quavered and fell silent. He wiped dirt from the stone. “So, Hope came to work at the lodge today.” Donovan looked off into the darkness. “We should never have worried about Hope being fragile. The way she’s raised Ella all alone, she’s got plenty of grit.”

  Boomer reached up and put his paws on Donovan’s thighs. He picked him up and stood. “I know I gave Hope the job, but I’m not sure I can let her keep it. Not sure I can be around her day in and day out.” He looked up at the sky and tried to put his feelings into words. “She’s gotten under my skin again. Loving her before took everything away from me . . . you and Nan. I can’t go through it again. I just can’t. I’m not sure I’m that strong.”

  From nowhere, a piece of paper glided in on the wind, as if it were a message from above, and landed at Donovan’s feet. He looked around at the trees surrounding the cemetery. A moment ago, there hadn’t been any breeze at all. Donovan picked up the paper. It was a list of chores and errands—sweep entryway, stock pantry, clean out garage, and so on. Donovan broke into a smile, then gazed at the gravestone. “Brilliant. I knew I could count on you, little brother. Thanks for the idea.”

  He looked down at Boomer. “I think we can go home now. What do you think?”

  Boomer looked up at him and Donovan could’ve sworn the puppy smiled.

  * * *

  • • •

  AFTER ELLA WENT to her room, Hope got into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. It was probably because she’d had that nap earlier, and not because she couldn’t stop thinking about how comfortably she and Donovan had worked alongside each other in his grandmother’s studio.

  Hope climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen, thinking she might have a snack. But the moose fabric called to her from the ironing board and sewing won out over snacking. It wouldn’t wake Ella; her daughter was a hard sleeper and had grown up with the late-night whir of Hope’s sewing machine.

  She set up her machine and began stitching. Normally, sewing was absorbing, but tonight, her mind was on something else. Someone else . . . Donovan. She kept reliving the kiss over and over again. He’d stirred her comatose insides back to life. And not in a good way. It was uncomfortable loving him the way she did. The wound had reopened, making the pain fresh. But ohh . . . it had been wonderful to embrace him once more. At the same time she was truly frightened of what would certainly happen . . . she was going to experience the heartache of losing him all over again.

  “It means nothing,” she said to her idle sewing machine. “Donovan was grateful, that’s all. Now get back to work.”

  An hour later, the simple curtains were done and Hope crawled back into bed. As she pulled up her quilt, she said, “Izzie, if you’re around, can you let me sleep?” Finishing their conversation from earlier could wait. “There’s lots to talk about, but I’m beat. I hope you understand.” Hope closed her eyes and slept soundly.

  The next morning when Hope strolled into the kitchen, Ella was eating a bowl of cereal at the table.

  “Who are the curtains for?” she as
ked.

  “The lodge,” Hope answered. “Wandering Moose Cabin.”

  “I see.” Ella gave her a look as if the curtains meant something. But at least Ella was back to speaking to her.

  “Why are you up so early?” Hope asked. These days it was unusual to see Ella dressed on a Sunday morning.

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d go to mass with you.” Ella lifted her eyebrow in warning, as if to tell Hope not to make a big deal out of it.

  “Sounds good.” Hope went to the coffeemaker, trying to contain the high five she wanted to give herself. Ella hadn’t been to St. Ignatius since the funeral. Hope hadn’t forced it. She understood Ella’s grief. And the way church could emphasize the hole in their hearts that would probably never heal, the place in her heart where Hope’s dad had been.

  An hour later, they left the house in their warm clothes to walk to church. Others were walking along Main Street to St. Ignatius as well. The Baptist church had just let out and Ella waved to Lacy and Aberdeen as they passed on the other side of the street. Hope was still ticked at Aberdeen but decided to let it go. After all, Ella seemed to be on the road to forgiving Hope.

  All felt right with the world.

  That changed only a block later, when they entered the church and found themselves the object of stares. What was that about? She and Ella weren’t late. Hope looked down to reassure herself that she’d dressed appropriately. Why all the gawking?

  Then it hit her. The news must’ve spread that she’d been laid off from the Hungry Bear. This was probably the juicy tidbit that had the townsfolk turning and murmuring to one another as she and Ella walked down the aisle. Hope’s name even rose above the crowd of whispers a couple of times. Just like when she was pregnant, she went to her old mantra: Let ’em stare. Let ’em gossip. She loved Sweet Home, but she certainly didn’t like how everyone butted into everyone else’s business.

  But then a few steps closer to the altar, she saw it . . . the reason Sweet Home was all a-twitter. Donovan Stone was sitting in their pew! Hers and Ella’s! Did Donovan have a sixth sense and know that was their place? Hope had claimed that pew when her mother kicked her out of the house. Third row from the front, on the left. Back then, even though shame at killing Izzie and Beau had been crushingly new, and her pregnancy had started to show, Hope had refused to hide in the back of the church. She figured God could see her no matter where she sat, so why not let everyone else see her, too. And as her belly had grown, Hope had become even more defiant, refusing to answer anyone who fished for answers about the father of her baby.