The Gift of Hope by Pam Andrews Hanson Page A

stylish and attractive. You’re taller than me by a few inches, but my hair used to be that same shade of honey blond. And, of course, you have my brown eyes and cute little nose. Not that my nose is as small as it was then. Did you know a person’s nose and ears never stop growing?”
    “Yes, you mentioned it at your second 69 th birthday party, or maybe it was the third,” Hope teased.
    “No lady should ever be compelled to mention her age or weight,” Granny Doe said with a small sniff just as the doorbell sounded. “Oh, dear, there he is, and neither of us had time for a dash of lipstick.”
    “It just doesn’t matter!” Hope said as she went to the door.
    He wasn’t alone, and Hope immediately welcomed his nine-year-old daughter, Anna, hoping to put the shy young girl at ease.
    “How is your grandmother doing?” Noah Langdon asked after they’d exchanged pleasantries.
    “She’s going to be hard to keep down,” Hope said shaking her head. “I’ve asked a neighbor to look in on her while I’m at work so she doesn’t start doing wheelies on her crutches.”
    “I imagine she’s not one to sit around. The congregation is really going to miss her this Christmas season.”
    “I’m not sure they’ll have to,” Hope said without elaborating. “Let me hang up your coats. She’s in the front room.”
    “I brought Anna with me because her sitter couldn’t come this evening,” he said.
    “I’m delighted you did. Anna, you look so nice in your blue sweater.”
    She smiled broadly at the nine-year-year-old, hoping to put her at ease. In the months since Anna had arrived in Blairton, Hope had never seen her smile or heard her laugh. On Sunday morning, she sometimes sat in a pew alone while her father conducted the service, but lately she seemed to have made one friend at the Bible Church. Hope sincerely hoped she was fitting in at school.
    As she hung their coats in the front closet, she couldn’t help but compare their appearances. Anna was as pretty as her father was handsome, but they had more than that in common. Both were slender with dark chestnut hair and striking blue eyes, but they were most alike in their serious expressions.
    “Reverend Langdon,” Granny Doe said when he stepped from the foyer of her Victorian home into the front room furnished with family heirlooms and long, heavy green velvet drapes. “It’s so nice of you to come.”
    She smiled broadly and looked happier than she had since coming home from the emergency room with the cumbersome brace and crutches.
    “I was so sorry to hear about your accident,” he said.
    “Oh, it’s only a small fracture. I’ll still be able to decorate the church for Christmas. I’ve been flying around on crutches like a kid on a pogo stick.”
    Hope wanted to ask how she could tell such a big fib to the minister, but instead she wondered whether she should fix some refreshments.
    “Would you like coffee and maybe some cookies, Reverend Langdon?”
    “None for me, thank you, and please call me Noah.”
    “Noah,” Granny Doe said, trying it out. “It will be hard to remember to use your given name. No one ever called Reverend Green by his first name, Bill, but I think most church members are more than ready for less formal leadership. It will help in working with younger people.”
    “What about you, Anna? I could make some hot chocolate,” Hope offered when her grandmother paused for a moment.
    “No, thank you,” she said in a hushed voice, standing until Hope suggested she sit in the gold velvet wing chair that matched the couch.
    Granny Doe enjoyed talking about her fall and went into detail with the minister.
    “A neighbor saw me fall and took me to the hospital,” she said. “It happened while Hope was at the library. She’s the children’s librarian, you know. She loves children even more than books, and that’s saying a lot.”
    “I found out about your fall when Anna and I went to the library to pick up a book on