One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,27
be the one to ask.
When he got into his vehicle, the sun came out, making the Home Sweet Home Lodge sign cast a shadow on the lodge in the shape of a cross. Donovan sucked in a breath. Though Beau and Nan had been on his mind nonstop, until this moment he hadn’t thought to stop at their graves. “I know Rick is going to be anxious to get on the road, but I’m not going to put this off one more minute.”
Sweet Home’s cemetery was two miles from the lodge and one mile from town. The setting in the summer was quite beautiful with the trees towering over the resting places of the town’s dearly departed. All through their teens Donovan and Beau had mowed the cemetery’s lawn, helped dig graves, and even acted as pallbearers when needed. They’d gotten paid for the mowing, but the rest was in service to Sweet Home. The last two caskets that Donovan had carried had been Beau’s and his grandmother’s, memories Donovan usually kept buried deep. But he was going to drive to the cemetery just the same and have a long overdue discussion with his brother and say a quick hello to Nan.
Donovan pulled onto Cemetery Road, his heart heavy. The trees had morphed from skinny to thick, and there were more of them. The surroundings had changed but Donovan hadn’t. He never got over missing Beau. The weird thing was he couldn’t imagine now what it would be like to still have him in his life. Which only made this trip harder.
He turned onto the long driveway and found the place where they’d buried Beau and Nan, near the standing statue of the Bible. He glanced at the back seat, where Boomer was hanging out in his box. “I won’t be long.”
Donovan got out of the car and strode quickly to Nan’s grave. “I wish I had flowers for you.” He’d pick up silk flowers in Anchorage and bring them back later. Daisies had been her favorite. He stood over her grave for a long moment. “When the ground thaws in the spring, I’ll bring Grandpa’s ashes to Sweet Home and bury them alongside you, per his last request.” Grandpa loved Nan so much. Donovan wondered what it would be like to share a life with someone he loved that much. He didn’t see that in his future now. Now that it had all changed.
Next, he went to Beau’s grave. He squatted down and wiped away the snow covering the words: beloved son and brother.
“I’m going to bring flowers for Nan. I don’t think you’d appreciate those. If I were still drinking, I’d bring you a six-pack.”
The wind gusted and Donovan shivered. “There’s not a lot to say. Hope’s still here in Sweet Home, which is bizarre. And she has a kid. She named her Ella after Izzie. Her girl is a teenager, too. You know what that means, don’t you? Hope got married right away. How could she do that? I thought I meant everything to her.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I guess not.”
There was no sign that Beau was even listening, but Donovan still had a lot bottled up that needed to be said. “All this time, I thought Hope had gotten out of town and gotten on with her life. But it doesn’t seem like she has.” He paused, gathering his words. “It’s not that she looks unhappy. She just seems worn out. Remember how much energy she used to have? She’s just not the same person anymore.” He wouldn’t tell his brother how he worried he might have something to do with Hope stalling out in her life. But maybe he was giving himself too much credit.
“Nothing’s turned out like I thought it would. I thought we’d always live here in Sweet Home, you and me, pranking each other, even as adults, and teaching our kids the best ones. I couldn’t see beyond that. It’s weird, but in some respects, things are better than I thought possible. I have a boatload of money, more money than I ever imagined. I have the military to thank for that. The Marines gave me a career. I never knew how much I loved computers until they said I had an aptitude for programming and trained me. After I got out, I started my own consulting firm, and recently, I sold it.”
Donovan stood to break the news to Beau, though he probably already knew. “Grandpa died. That’s the reason I’m back