and driving.” Ella grinned lopsidedly. “You should be proud of me, Mom.”
Hope stretched out her arm. “Give me that.”
Ella jerked away playfully, sheltering her bottle, then took another quick swig before finally handing it over. “Sorry. It’s all gone.” She giggled. “You’ll have to get your own.”
“Where did you get the wine?”
Ella twisted her fingers in front of her mouth, locking her lips.
“Get in the lodge. You have school tomorrow.”
Ella slid out of the car, giving new meaning to the word tipsy.
Donovan held the door open for them and Hope handed him the empty wine bottle.
Ella looked up at him as she passed. “Hello, Father,” she said sarcastically.
Donovan gave Hope a questioning look but she had nothing for him. Not even a sliver of bandwidth. He’d have to come up with his own way to deal with his surly teenage daughter. But then she remembered he wouldn’t be here long enough to have to concern himself with the joys of parenting.
“Just help me get her upstairs and into bed,” Hope said as Ella sagged against her.
Donovan supported her other side and together they lugged her upstairs. After they got Ella settled on the bed, Hope dismissed him with “I’ve got this.” She was used to taking care of her daughter by herself. Donovan left as she unlaced Ella’s boots.
“I’ll need to get a rag from downstairs,” Hope muttered to her unresponsive daughter, “to clean up the mess from your boots.” Snow could ruin the hardwood floors.
After Ella was tucked in, Hope stepped into the hall and was surprised to see that Donovan was wiping up the floor. He stood and gently pulled Ella’s door shut, whispering, “Is this typical?”
“Don’t judge me, Donovan.” She’d told him she’d tried everything she’d ever heard that could help teens stop drinking. None of it had worked.
She slipped past him and down the stairs to get a glass of water to put beside her bed. She wasn’t going to talk anymore tonight.
Once back upstairs, she checked in on Ella to find her snoring quietly.
God, please help her. This had become Hope’s constant prayer.
Hope dragged herself to her bedroom, quickly donned warm flannel pajamas, and climbed into bed, deciding to leave the lamp on. She was so exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the evening that she assumed she’d pass out as soon as she snuggled under Elsie’s Flying Geese quilt that she had loved so much.
But for several moments, she was wide awake, listening. Was she waiting to hear Donovan’s footsteps on the stairs? Ridiculous! No, pathetic. At first there was silence but then she heard quiet male voices. Either Rick had come home or the master of the house was talking to himself. As the deep voices drifted through the floorboards, Hope was lulled to sleep.
She came awake suddenly, knowing someone was there with her. She rolled over and saw Izzie sitting at the small wooden desk, tapping her fingers.
“How did you get here?” Hope asked.
Izzie frowned. “How do you think? You’re here, so I’m here.” She smiled at Hope mischievously. “So, big sister . . . shacking up with Donovan?”
“It’s only temporary until I can get the house fixed.”
“But you’re in your old room,” Izzie argued. “It must feel nostalgic.”
“The lodge only has a couple of rooms decent enough for visitors. This just happens to be one of them.”
Izzie looked around. “Lots of memories in here.”
“I know. I’m trying not to think about it.” This room was where Ella had been conceived. That snowy night when Hope slept over at the lodge and Donovan had snuck in to keep her warm. He’d held her close and lovingly gazed into her eyes, saying he was looking at the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Everything had happened so naturally between them. She’d never regretted that one perfect night. That was the last time she’d stayed here, just days before the accident. Which should have been ancient history by now, but it felt like it was yesterday.
Hope changed the subject. “I’m extremely worried about Ella. Staying here at the lodge seems to have exacerbated the situation.”
“You know what I think?” Izzie said.
“If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?”
Izzie gave that tinkling laugh that always reminded Hope of bells. “Of course I’m going to tell you. I think you should ask Donovan what you should do.”
“That’s crazy. I know Ella better than anyone,” Hope said, incredulously.
“Yet he’s the recovering alcoholic.”
“Oh.”
“Yep. You’re going to have to team