One Snowy Night

by Patience Griffin

  She didn’t see Donovan at first. But then she spotted him in the corner, pulling boxes down from a shelf. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if maybe she could just skip this part; her mom would never know.

  But I would.

  “Hey, can I talk to you?” Ella said quietly.

  He didn’t turn around. “Sure. Come help me with these.”

  She walked down the four steps into the garage. “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking out the Christmas decorations. Rick bought a bunch of new stuff while we were in Anchorage but I wanted to use some of my grandparents’ too.”

  All of a sudden it hit her that he was talking about her great-grandparents, part of her family. A whole family she knew nothing about. “What were they like?”

  Donovan looked over his shoulder, a warm smile on his face as if he was remembering something nice. “They were the best, the most welcoming and patient people I’ve ever known. Nan seemed to always have home-baked cookies in the oven and Grandpa was always whistling while fixing something around the place. Your mom could tell you. She loved it here. We used to have so much fun, playing in the woods and fishing in the river. You should ask her about it.” He turned back to his boxes. Ella thought he was done talking but then he said, “Have you ever been ice fishing?”

  “Yeah. Mom takes me a couple times every winter,” Ella said, coming closer. She picked up a glass bauble that had a poinsettia on it. “It’s usually a lot of fun.”

  He didn’t look up but had stilled. “Would you go with me while I’m here? I haven’t been since I was about your age.” He seemed frozen, waiting.

  “Sure,” Ella said, feeling weird about this. “Can we bring Mom along?”

  “I don’t think so, not with her bum ankle.”

  “Listen,” Ella said, not wanting to talk about ice fishing, “I’m sorry I took the wine. Mom said you were going to dish out the punishment because it’s your lodge and all. And I doubt ice fishing is the consequence for what I did.”

  He faced her then. “Ella, I’m an alcoholic.” His expression looked worried. “I started drinking heavily when I was about your age.”

  She put the ornament back in the box. “Well, I’m not an alcoholic and I don’t drink heavily, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I don’t think you’re the kind of kid who steals either. Yet you were reckless enough to take wine that you knew you shouldn’t take. And you knew that we’d installed security cameras all over.”

  She hated that he was right on all counts.

  “You’re a smart young woman,” he continued, “yet the siren call of alcohol had you doing something that you have to admit was uncharacteristic of who you are. It’s a slippery slope, Ella. If you’re not careful, booze can turn you into someone you don’t like.” No one had ever talked to her like this: serious, but not stern, not judgy. If anyone else said this to her—like her mom—Ella would stomp out of there . . . but Donovan had a calm way of making sense.

  “You’ve probably heard that alcoholism is a disease,” he said. “Even though there isn’t a specific gene that causes alcoholism, some people do have a genetic predisposition to addiction, which explains why alcoholism often runs in families. My mom was an alcoholic. Her father was an alcoholic. And I’m an alcoholic. I just want to spare you the misery that the rest of us have gone through.”

  Ella looked away as the stupid tears were coming again. She had to swipe at her face a couple of times before she could speak. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to not become one?”

  “I thought you could join AA with me.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said. “Besides, Sweet Home doesn’t have any meetings like that. And I can’t go all the way to Anchorage or Fairbanks all the time.” Wasn’t there a quick fix? “What if I just decide that I won’t drink anymore?”

  “That might work. I don’t know,” he said. “The truth is that life is hard. And when things get tough, I still want a drink, I mean really want a drink. When that happens, I call my sponsor. His name is Mark and he lives in San Jose where I go to meetings.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Sweet Home needs a place for alcoholics to meet, a place to help them get sober and stay sober. I propose that you and I work on finding that place and setting it up. As a punishment it fits the crime, don’t you think?”

  But I’m not an alcoholic! she wanted to say. “If I help you, does that mean I’m not grounded?”

  He laughed. “Oh, you’re still grounded. I know better than to overrule your mom.”

  “But you and I will, you know, be cool, if I help?” She wanted to ask if he could forgive her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “Listen, Ella, you said you were sorry and I’ve forgiven you. You’re my daughter and I want us to be friends. I want to get to know you. Ice fishing might be a good way to start, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” It was the least she could do. He hadn’t yelled at her, and now that he’d talked to her honestly, like she was an adult, too, she didn’t believe he would out her to everyone as a thief and tell them to lock up their silverware. “We can go ice fishing. But when are you going to have time? From what Mom and Piney say, even with all of us working, the lodge and the hardware store still might not be ready in time.”

  He handed her a box. “You’re important to me. I’ll make the time.”

  The waterworks started again and her shaky hands weren’t even free to wipe away the tears. The rest of her was shaking, too. It was dumb but apparently she’d always wanted to hear those words from her dad.

  “Take those into Nan’s studio and show them to your mom. It’ll be a walk down memory lane for her.”

  “’Kay.” Hurriedly, Ella left the garage, trying not to cry like a stupid baby. She really needed a drink.

  Oh, crap! Maybe Donovan was right. Maybe she did have the disease, too.

  * * *

  • • •

  HOPE KEPT ONE eye on the fabric she was cutting and one eye on the door of the studio, waiting, knowing Ella had gone to the garage. The seconds went by slowly, minutes torturing her by inching along. Finally, Ella came into the studio, her eyes red, her lashes tinged with tears.

  “What’s wrong, cabbage?” Piney asked from behind her sewing machine.

  Hope gave Piney a don’t-coddle-her look. “She’s fine. Ella, can you help Miss Lisa cut out the blocks for the Highland Coos Cabin quilt?”

  “Sure, Mom.” She set the box down on the table. “Donovan wants you to look at this.”

  “What is it?” Hope asked.

  “Old Christmas ornaments, I think.”

  Hope reached out and grabbed Ella’s hand and squeezed, searching her eyes, whispering, “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Hope gave her a quick hug. “The fabric is all pressed and ready at the mat.” Ella didn’t go to the cutting table, but stayed beside Hope as she pulled back the lid on the box. “Oh.”

  “What is it, Mom?”

  “Some ornaments we made when we were kids.” She pulled out something that looked like a teddy bear made from dough.

  “I remember Elsie nearly buying me out of flour that year,” Piney said. “She said you and Donovan wanted to make one for everyone in town.”

  “I think after we made a treefull for the lodge, we lost interest, but it certainly brings back memories.”

  Ella took out another ornament. “What’s this one, Mom? It looks like a Hot Wheels car.”

  “It was my brother Beau’s,” Donovan said from the doorway. Hope’s stomach did an excited flip-flop.

  He walked farther into the room. “Your uncle Beau loved cars more than anything else in the world, Ella. Hot Wheels, when he was a kid, and real-life Camaros when he got old enough to dream of driving. He always said it would be the first car he
would buy when he had enough money.”

  The whole room had gone quiet. No one expected to hear Donovan say Beau’s name ever again, but even more surprising was that he’d publicly acknowledged that Ella was his daughter. And it made Hope beyond happy.

  Piney headed toward Donovan, making shooing gestures with her arms. “You, Hope, and Ella take the box into the living room and go through it together. That way Ella can hear all the shenanigans you hellions got up to as kids.”

  “But the quilts have to get—”

  Piney cut Hope off. “We can handle it for a few minutes, buttercup. Besides, the Highland Coos fabric looks wrinkly to me. I’ll give it another press while the three of you visit. And bond.”

  Hope was a little embarrassed by the last remark, but Donovan didn’t correct her, so he must have been okay with it. He grabbed the box and left for the living room.

  Hope took Ella’s arm and followed. He set the box on the couch. She and Ella sidled up beside him.

  “Did Uncle Beau really hang the Hot Wheels on the tree?” Ella asked timidly.

  “You bet. Even when he no longer played with cars.” Donovan cleared his throat. “His last Christmas, when he hung the car on the tree, he said that by the next Christmas he’d have his own.”

  Donovan gave Ella a sad smile, then leaned over the box. “He was sixteen.”

  Hope laid a hand on Donovan’s back with the hope of comforting him. He didn’t pull away.

  Ella moved closer, too. “What else is in there?” Which was the perfect thing to say.

  Donovan pulled out a small quilted patchwork ornament. “Nan made one of these for each of us.” He turned it over. “She stitched our names on the back.” He looked at it and then passed it to Hope. “This one is yours.”

  She took it and ran her finger over the embroidered name. “Yours was a quilted wolf block, wasn’t it?”

  He pulled out three more and spread them out on the couch. “Yes. And Beau’s was a fox. Grandpa had a bear.”

  It was always so sweet that Elsie included her in the family. Which made Hope wonder if she could’ve foreseen the future.

  Ella reached in the box this time and retrieved a porcelain cardinal. “What’s special about this?”

  Hope and Donovan shared a look while he carefully took the ornament from Ella. Hope let him explain.

  “That was Nan’s. Her grandfather gave her that bird ornament when she was a girl. It was her prize possession. It was always the first ornament to go on the tree.” He stared at the ornament, cradling it. Then he turned to Ella, holding it out to her. “I think it should be yours now. Nan would’ve wanted her great-granddaughter to have it.”

  It was a moment of reverence as the heirloom was passed from father to daughter. Hope discreetly swiped at a tear. But when she glanced up Donovan was staring at her. His look should’ve held hate or blame. But he was gazing at her with what might have been acceptance in his eyes.

  Chapter 18

  DONOVAN WOKE UP early Thanksgiving morning. He wanted to get to the hardware store to prep and paint the break room while everyone was off. It hadn’t been easy to turn down Piney’s Briny Tofu Turkey invitation—well actually, the non-turkey was easy to turn down—but it would’ve been nice to be with people he cared about today.

  Especially Hope and Ella.

  His family.

  The thought blew his mind. Well, he could get something done at the hardware store and keep busy while they were on their camping trip.

  As he entered the kitchen, Ella held up a box of Life cereal in offering.

  “Thanks. That would be great. Do you want me to start some water for hot cocoa?”

  “Yeah.” She pulled down two bowls.

  He cherished this nearly choregraphed time with Ella in the mornings. “So where did you two decide on?”

  “I think Lake Bend. But you know Mom; she could change her mind again.” Ella rolled her eyes. “She wants to make sure that I try out some new skills.”

  “How many Thanksgivings have you been doing this?”

  “All of them. As far back as I remember.” Ella pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and handed it to him.

  “Can you do me a favor?” he said. “Can you run into my office and bring me the box on my desk?” It was weird that he’d called the office his and not Grandpa’s.

  Ella gave him a look. “Do I have to run? Can I walk?”

  “You must be wide awake if you can sass me so early in the morning.”

  She smiled and strolled leisurely from the room.

  Donovan watched her go, smiling just because he had a daughter.

  Ella returned, holding the box. “So what’s this?”

  “You tell me,” Donovan said.

  Ella flipped it open. “It’s a cell phone.”

  “Correction, it’s a satellite phone.”

  “What’s the difference?” she said.

  “Satellite phones don’t rely on cell towers; they bounce off satellites.”

  “And you have this why?”

  “It’s a gift for you and your mom to take on your camping trips. I know your mom is hell-bent on teaching you survival skills. I want to contribute to your camping safety.”

  Hope appeared in the doorway. “I’m hell-bent on what?”

  Ella used the phone to point at him. “Donovan got us a satellite phone.”

  Hope frowned and opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could complain.

  “You’re welcome.” He took a seat across from Ella.

  Hope strolled over to the coffeemaker. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to Piney’s?”

  He thought she was about to ask if he wanted to come along on their camping excursion. He recovered quickly. “I’m sure. I heard what was on Piney’s menu. It makes sense now why you have a standing date to get out of town and go camping on Thanksgiving.”

  Ella laughed. “Don’t worry about missing out. There’ll be leftovers.”

  Thank goodness a new garbage disposal had been installed last week.

  “What are you going to do for food today?” Hope asked.

  “Don’t worry about me. I have an important date with a paintbrush. I’ll make a sandwich and take it with me.”

  “If you’re sure . . .” Hope said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Ella, hurry up and eat your breakfast so we can get going,” mother said to daughter. “I want us to get our camp settled while it’s still light.”

  They were gone within a half hour. Donovan didn’t dally either and was gone shortly afterward with his lunch and a thermos of coffee for his day alone at the hardware store. On his way into town he called and wished his dad and Rose a happy Thanksgiving. Yes, he felt a little alone, but he was looking forward to getting the break room painted as a surprise for the workers who would return on Monday.

  The day flew by and only once or twice did he think longingly about Hope and Ella. He pictured them catching a few fish to add to their turkey roast on the coals and making s’mores over an open fire. He hoped they were staying warm.

  Just as he was cleaning up his paint brushes around five, he received a text from Piney informing him that there was an emergency at the lodge.

  He threw the dirty paintbrushes in a bucket and rushed to his vehicle. As he sped to the lodge, he tried to get hold of Piney. And when he got no answer, he called Hope’s new satellite phone. No answer from her either. Had Hope and Ella been in an accident? He drove faster.

  Cars were parked along the road as if it were a normal workday at the lodge. He pulled into the driveway, and before he could turn off the vehicle, Ella and Hope stepped out on the porch.

  “What’s going on? Why are you back?”

  “We decided not to go.”

  “Why?” He looked around. “And why is the whole
town here?” At least it looked that way.

  “Talk to Ella,” Hope said.

  “Dinner’s ready.” Ella went back inside but Hope stayed where she was.

  He searched her face but he didn’t see any sign of distress. “Tell me.”

  “It’s a surprise Thanksgiving dinner for you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s to thank you for remodeling the lodge and hardware store. For bringing jobs back to town. For giving them hope.”

  But what he was doing wasn’t altruistic. He was doing this to honor his grandparents . . . and to make a buck.

  Hope studied him for a long moment. “Just so you know, it was Ella who suggested this whole thing. Apparently, she overheard a couple of workers saying they were going to have a better Christmas because they’d been working at the hardware store.”

  “Ella?” he said in wonderment.

  “Yeah, your daughter. You better come inside and say hello to everyone. And just so you’ll be prepared, Piney brought you a hefty dish of her tofu turkey.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” But he had a stupid grin on his face, one he was sure wouldn’t leave for the rest of the day. He held the door and they stepped inside.

  It was like stepping into the lodge twenty years ago. So many smiling faces, especially the familiar smiling faces like Mr. Brewster, Miss Lisa, Aberdeen, even Jesse Montana and his brother Shaun . . . It was so surreal; Donovan wouldn’t have been all that surprised if Nan and Grandpa walked through the front door and knocked snow from their boots. With everyone here, a piece of his youth had returned—the loving arms of community—and he hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d missed it. He hadn’t experienced real community—Sweet Home, Alaska type community—since the day he’d left.

  Men slapped him on the back and women squeezed his arm. Cries of “Happy Thanksgiving” created a racket. Oh, how he wished his grandparents were here to see this.

  Hope laid a hand on his back. “Go sit. The food’s on the table.”

  Piney appeared with Bill by her side. “Bill is mighty glad for this shindig. He’s fond of a real turkey leg.”