One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,43

jump. Apparently, she had fallen asleep, because Izzie was sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, looking like a yogi, or the young child that she’d been. “I know you’re thinking about me and I don’t like that you use me that way.”

“What way?” Hope asked, feeling too tired to fess up and too tired to hash out the evening with her little sister.

“You’re being morbid,” Izzie chastised. “Maybe, instead of saying that things could always be worse, you should start a gratitude journal.”

“What do you know about gratitude journals?”

“I know things,” Izzie said. “I know you have a mess to clean up from tonight.”

“The dishes?”

“Don’t be funny.”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you have no choice. I’m here, so we’re going to talk.”

“It’s simple, really. I’ve lied to my daughter since the day she was born. And I never told Donovan that he has a daughter. I think that covers it.”

Izzie hung her head back and looked up at the ceiling. Either she was frustrated with Hope or she was conferring with someone up there.

Her silence propelled Hope to continue. “As you said, I messed up tonight.”

“That’s not what I said. I said you have a mess to clean up. I think it was a good start being grateful that Ella was safe.”

“That was private,” Hope complained irrationally, especially since this was just a dream.

“It’s going to take some time, but I’m certain things are going to work out.”

“How can you be sure?” Hope asked.

Izzie gave her a look that said she had to have the patience of Job when it came to dealing with her older sister. She sighed heavily. “I told you, Hope; I know things.”

Chapter 9

FOR EIGHT DAYS straight, Hope woke up feeling hungover. It always took a minute to remember why her heart was heavy and why her emotions were spent. Ella was giving her the silent treatment—the teenage version of a toddler holding her breath. But at least she was home. Hope would just have to wait it out.

Then there was Donovan. Hope hadn’t seen him since the incident at the lodge. Incident was a polite way of putting it; train wreck was more accurate. But Hope had seen Rick, as he’d been in the Hungry Bear often, mostly to pick up Sparkle, or to return her. But no Donovan. Hope wanted to inquire after him, but she held strong. She was, after all, born and raised Alaskan. Tough. Able to withstand anything. But not seeing Donovan was unbearable and felt like some painful déjà vu.

She crawled out of bed and headed for the shower. As she passed Ella’s room, she couldn’t miss the new sign posted on her door—Keep Out.

Hope gave it a sad smile. Today’s silver lining . . . at least her daughter was communicating again.

In the shower, Hope stood under the hot water until the tank nearly ran out. She felt guilty for that, too. Wasting hot water wasn’t a luxury she could afford.

She quickly dressed, wrote a list for Ella of things she’d like done around the house—though it might be in vain—and then hurried to the Hungry Bear to open up. Before she had even unlocked the door, trucks started pulling up. People who worked on Saturdays wanted to pick something up for lunch. An hour later, Piney came downstairs.

She had been acting strange all week and this morning wasn’t any different. She’d looked worried—and Piney never looked worried.

Hope checked out the last customer and went to the back. “Is something going on that we need to talk about? Are you unwell?” She’d tried every day to get Piney to talk, but Piney was mum. Which was so out of character for her. But maybe Hope was to blame. A lot of people weren’t speaking to her now.

The chime over the door rang.

“Go take care of Miss Lisa up front,” Piney said, chewing her lip. “I promise we’ll talk. Just not now.” Which was more than she’d said all week.

Hope had a sinking feeling that whatever Piney had to say wasn’t good, but she hurried to help Miss Lisa pick out the best two bananas in the produce section and to bring a quart of milk to the front for her.

While Hope was handing Miss Lisa her sack of groceries, Rick arrived.

“Sparkle should be down at ten,” Hope offered.

“Thanks. How are you this morning?” Rick had been asking this same question with the same concern each time he came in. He certainly hadn’t