One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,60

know you asked him to sit with us at church,” Ella hissed. Hissed loud enough that passersby outside the church could hear.

Donovan turned and looked back at them. Once again, Hope wanted to make a run for it, this time from his piercing eyes, which didn’t miss a thing. “I didn’t ask him to church or to sit in our pew.”

“Then what’s he doing there?” Ella said angrily.

“Communing with God?” Hope feebly offered. Even though Donovan had been a hellion in his youth, he had never missed mass.

To Hope’s relief, the processional music began and the congregation stood and opened their hymnals. But she couldn’t help glancing over at Donovan every other stanza.

Ella put her hand over the page, glaring at Hope. “Stop it.”

She was right. Hope was pitiable. Especially since Donovan didn’t look at her once during the service. The first half of Father Mike’s sermon was on the power of forgiveness, while the second half covered the harm of gossiping. He had certainly tied Hope’s troubles up with a nice neat bow. Thanks, Father Mike.

After church Piney stopped Hope as she was trying to hurry out the door.

“Come by and eat with Bill and me. Family dinner, you and Ella.”

Ella held out her phone, demonstrating that she’d been texting since the moment church was over. “I’m headed to Lacy’s.”

Piney nodded. “Then you, Hope. You’ll come?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hope saw Donovan shaking hands with Father Mike. She turned to Piney. “I can’t, I have too much to do.” Run!

Piney took her hand. “It’s not because you’re upset with me, is it?”

Yes! Partly. “No. I’m too busy. I have to get ready for next week.”

Piney squeezed her hand. “If you change your mind, we’ll be at my apartment.”

Trying to put on a brave front, Hope smiled before removing her hand from Piney’s. “Thanks.” She turned to Ella. “Don’t be late.”

Ella nodded and hurried for the door. Hope followed close behind, not to keep up with her daughter but to avoid Donovan. And to avoid the curious stares from the folks of Sweet Home.

But once Hope was home, she didn’t want to do laundry or mop the floor or make a menu for next week. She looked around her empty little house, feeling lonely, until her eyes landed on the Rubbermaid container in the corner, the one holding Izzie’s Memory Tree quilt. She took it into the kitchen and gradually lost track of time as she cut Izzie’s clothes into blocks and strips. When Ella got home around five, she pulled a container of fish soup from the freezer, dumped the contents into a pan, and set it on the stove. Hope returned to cutting out pieces while the soup heated, then scooped up two bowls.

“Sit with me,” Hope offered.

“Nah. I’m going to eat in my room.”

Fine. Hope would just keep working on Izzie’s Memory Tree. By the end of the evening, the blocks had been organized, the cut pieces placed in baggies and tagged. She felt good about what she’d accomplished. Somehow, working on Izzie’s quilt had given Hope a reprieve from worrying over Donovan.

But as soon as she fell into bed and closed her eyes, Izzie was there.

“So, you told my niece about you and me having our little chats,” Izzie said.

“I’m lucky she didn’t call the head of the loony bin to have me committed.”

“It’s good you talked about it . . . and other things. But you didn’t tell her about the kiss,” Izzie said, singsonging kiss like the middle schooler that she’d been.

“I don’t want to talk about the kiss.” How could she, when she still didn’t know how she felt about it? “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway. It was just a thank-you kiss. No big deal.”

“No big deal? I think Donovan still loves you and wants to get back together,” Izzie said, acting the wise woman that she wasn’t. “And you still love him.”

“Stop it! I think the afterlife has demented your brain.” But it was actually Hope who was demented. Who else, besides her, talked to their dead sister?

“Hope, he was sitting in your pew at church. That could not have been a coincidence,” Izzie said.

“And yet, it was,” Hope insisted.

“Well, tomorrow you should talk to him.”

“Of course I’m going to talk to him. He’s my boss now.”

Izzie gave her a look, the same one their mother gave Hope when she was disappointed in her. “Don’t be obstinate. I mean talk to Donovan about your feelings and how you’d