her resolve, she’d left a bit of herself behind, after all.
She turned the corner and saw Gram’s house. A delighted laugh escaped her lips. The blue Cape Cod–style house was decorated just like it had been when they’d been kids—every single shrub and tree frosted with lights, a giant wreath on the door, and a candy cane walkway leading to the porch. She pulled in the yard and cut the engine, content just to look at it for a while, feeling the fulfillment of being home. She should have come back before now. Should have made the time instead of avoiding the place.
She got out of the car, and had grabbed her suitcase from the back when the front door opened and Gram stood in the doorway, wearing a reindeer apron and a wide smile.
“You’re here!” she called, excitement and welcome filling her voice.
“I’m here,” Hope answered, grinning, and then on impulse she left her suitcase in the snow and ran up the steps to give her grandmother a hug.
“Oh, my precious girl,” Gram said, hugging her back. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Of course I came.”
“And the drive?”
“The drive was lovely. Roads were terrific.”
Gram stood back and held her by the arms. “Have you eaten?”
Hope shook her head. It was the same old pattern and it felt good: love, questions, followed by food. “I only had a sandwich on the plane.”
“Hours ago,” Gram stated. “Bring in your bag and I’ll heat up some chowder.”
Hope took her bag inside and slid off her boots before carting it up to her old bedroom. The spread and wallpaper were exactly the same as they’d been the last time she’d visited—just before taking the Sydney job. In the desk drawer were old notebooks and pens, and a really old lip gloss that had dried out but had once been waxy and strawberry-flavored.
Gram had kept all her things just as she’d left them. In the hope that one day Hope would come home? An ache spread across her chest. For all her grievances and reasons she knew they were mere excuses. She had stayed away too long. Gram deserved better. If anything had come from this trip at all it was her determination that she’d get it.
Back downstairs, Hope got a good look at her grandmother. A little older, but still with her cheerful face, sparkling eyes, and soft white hair. She wore a sweater with a holly pattern on it. Gram had always loved the holidays, no matter what was going on. Maybe she was getting older, but she kept herself young.
“Sit down, honey. I’ve got some fresh bread to go with that.”
Hope sat at the table and looked around. “Oh, it’s good to be home,” she said at last, as Mary put a bowl in front of her. “Where’s Grace?”
“Oh, I’m guessing she’s with J.C., putting the final touches on the plans for the festival tomorrow. She’s been helping him out, you know.”
“Grace? And J.C.? Working together?” She raised an eyebrow and gave her grandmother a telling look. “How many trips to the E.R.?”
Gram’s face took on an innocent expression. “They seem to be getting along just fine.”
“And Faith?”
“Faith and Marcus arrive tomorrow.”
“Faith and Marcus?”
Hope’s spoon clattered to the bowl. What? Last she’d spoken to Faith she’d claimed the Earl was getting on her nerves. But then, Hope remembered, there had been a particular tone in her voice that suggested something quite different...
“It appears Faith has decided to hold on to her earl,” Gram said, picking at the crust of a slice of bread. She put it down, folded her hands on the table and looked at Hope. “And what about you, dear? How was your trip to Alberta?”
Hope studied her bowl. “It was good. Mr. Nelson...” how strange it was to call him that! “...has a great facility, and the children were wonderful. I left him with a CD full of pictures.”
“And that’s it?” Gram sounded disappointed.
Hope schooled her features and looked up. “Was there supposed to be more?” she asked innocently.
Gram watched her closely but didn’t say anything.
“You wouldn’t have been playing matchmaker, would you, Gram?” She sent her grandmother a sly look.
“Of course not!” Gram protested, but roses appeared on her cheeks. “Well, maybe. He’s very good-looking, and right around your age, and I know he’s from good people...”
Hope fought the urge to laugh and patted Gram’s hand. “This chowder is as good as I remember. And the ten days away were good for me—so you’re forgiven for issuing ultimatums.”
Mary’s face relaxed. “It’s good to see you, Hope. I never thought I’d see all my girls under one roof again.”
“It’s good to be back.”
But a bit of Hope was still stuck in a sleigh in an arctic breeze, watching the northern lights. She missed it already—the coziness of the log house, the barn, the sight of the mountains in the distance and Anna’s cooking in the kitchen while Blake teased.
How was it she could be homesick for a place she hardly knew? She’d only been there for a few days. And she’d been gone for hours, not years.
“You all right, Hope?”
Hope shook the thoughts away. “Just tired. I think I might have a hot bath and an early night. Can we catch up more tomorrow?”
“Of course we can. You go ahead. I’m not going to be far behind you. Gotta keep up my energy for tomorrow’s hoopla.”
Hope kissed her grandmother good night and headed up the stairs. In the bathroom the scent of pink rose soap was in the air—a scent she always associated with Gram. She started the bath and went to her room while it was running to open her suitcase and take out pajamas. She found the flannel pants toward the bottom and was pulling them out when Blake’s present fell out onto the floor.
She picked it up and examined the wrapping, touching it with her fingertips, feeling the texture of the silver foil and the soft curve of the ribbon. She went to the bathroom and turned off the bath, and then went back and sat on her bed. Slowly she untied the ribbon, putting it carefully on her dresser. She split the tape with a fingernail, wanting for some odd reason to leave the paper perfectly intact.
Inside was a square box. She removed the lid to find an exquisite dream catcher inside, lying on a nest of soft cotton.
She lifted it out, admiring the intricate weave and the gorgeous gray and black feathers drifting down. She wondered if Anna had made it. She wouldn’t be surprised; the woman could do just about anything.
Folded on top of the cotton was a note. Her heart pounded as she took it out of the box and opened it.
There
