Christmas Gifts: Small Town Christmas / Her Christmas Cowboy
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Noise from the hall caught his attention. He rinsed the glass and set it in the sink while his gaze drifted down the street to Ellie’s tree-filled property. An unfamiliar car sat at the back of the driveway, a sporty hatchback, practical but spirited, with its deep orange color. No doubt Amy had returned home.
“Daddy.”
He turned, startled by Ivy’s voice. The two girls stood beside the table, waiting. “Let’s sit in the living room, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He marched into the room and settled into his recliner. The girls plopped onto the sofa.
“I’m hungry, so don’t take long.”
Holly’s sarcastic tone grated him, but he bit his tongue, unwilling to argue. “I don’t want to know what happened today because Mrs. Fredericks told me. I want to know what we’ll do about it.”
“About what?” Ivy’s wide eyes sent him an innocent gaze.
“About your behavior.” He monitored his tone.
“If Holly wouldn’t tear up my—”
Mike held up his hand to shush her. “This isn’t about a picture or being tripped when you jumped rope or anything else.” He aimed his gaze at Holly. “This has to do with making changes. I’m tired of being called up to school. Do you realize I have to take time off from work to come there and listen to the same old stories about your behavior?”
“But—”
“I want solutions, Holly, not buts.”
Ivy started to titter, and Holly soon followed.
He stared at them and waited for their silliness to end. He’d hoped to reason with them, to find some solutions. Mrs. Fredericks had given him one, and although he’d negated it, the idea might set a fire under the girls.
“Sorry, Daddy, but you said—”
“I know what I said, Ivy. I’m asking for changes. What will they be?”
The two gazed at the floor, their hands in their laps, and said nothing.
“Then I have a solution. Mrs. Fredericks recommends that we split the two of you into different second grade classes.”
“No, Daddy. Please.” Ivy’s volume rose with each word.
His mind reeled. “Why not? I would think you’d be happy.”
She shook her head in high speed. “We need to be together.”
“Why?” His focus shifted from one to the other. “Together isn’t working, so why?” “Because we’re all we got.”
Hearing Ivy knocked him backward. We ‘re all we got. His heart wrenched. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Then you will make some changes in your behavior, or it will be out of my hands.”
A frown crept to their faces.
“Will Mrs. Fredericks make us go to different classes?”
Ivy’s plaintive look stymied him. “If you keep causing problems, then I think she will.”
She shifted toward Holly, who’d said little. “Do you want to go to another class?”
Holly looked away with a faint shake of the head.
Mike remained silent, giving them time to think until both pairs of eyes returned to his. “You have the weekend to make a decision.” And he had the weekend to figure out what to do. “Remember what I said.” He rose. “By the way, Holly, if you’re hungry, eat some fruit. Dinner won’t be for a while yet.”
They popped up and sped from the room while he sat questioning his threat. If they separated during school, would it make a difference? What about their behavior at home? His chest constricted while Ivy’s words rang in this head. We ‘re all we got. He needed to understand what she meant.
The refrigerator door opened, and before it closed, he rose and headed into the kitchen. “If you want to watch TV, you can, but I know you have some homework today. Mrs. Fredericks told me.”
“Can we do it tomorrow?”
Holly’s favorite question rang in his ears. “You’re going to spend part of the day with Gramma Ellie. Do you want to do homework then?”
“No.” Ivy spun on her heel. “I’ll do mine now. I’d rather have fun tomorrow.”
Holly gave it some thought before she followed Ivy toward her room.
Mike headed into the kitchen, pulled out an apple and took a bite. Dinner was more than an hour away, and for once, he had time on his hands.
Leaves drifting past the window caught his eye. He planned to rake them tomorrow, but his body charged with energy. His gaze drifted and he spotted Amy in Ellie’s front yard tugging leaves toward the side lot. Big yard. Big job for a slender woman.
He slipped on his jacket, but before he stepped outside, he ambled to the twins’ bedroom doors. “I’m going out to rake. I’ll be there if you need me.”
A muffled okay came from Ivy’s room. Holly’s was silent. She’d probably fallen asleep.
Mike stepped onto the side porch and grabbed his work gloves and rake, then headed down the steps. But instead of tackling his task, he strode across the street, drawn by the lithe woman whose opinion he valued.
When she spotted him, she stopped and leaned on the rake handle. Her hair shone with streaks of dark gold in the afternoon sun, and her cheeks were rosy with the crisp breeze. “So that’s where you live. The blue-and-white house.”
“Not too far away.”
“It’s cute. I admired it when I passed by earlier.”
“Thanks.” He’d never considered the house cute, as she called it, but it motivated him to turn and take another look. “My wife picked the color. She loved blue.”
Amy’s smile faded. “I’m sorry about your loss. Grams told me.”
He suspected Ellie had. He motioned to the lawn to change the subject. “Let me help you.”
She shook her head. “You have your own leaves to take care of. I can—”
“I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help.” He swung out the rake and gave a tug. The debris tangled in the tines, jerking him to a sudden stop. “Does Ellie … does your grandmother have an old sheet or maybe a tarp? We can make fast work of this if she does.”
“A sheet?”
“We’ll rake the leaves onto it and drag the load to the side. Much easier.”
Her eyebrows arched. “That’s a great idea.” She dropped the rake. “Wish I’d thought of that a half hour ago.”
She darted off as he watched her long legs make short work of the distance. A runner. He could picture her jogging down the streets of Chicago, turning heads as she went. The woman definitely turned his. Even though a tinge of guilt swept past him, he didn’t let it sway his thoughts. Laura had been gone three years, and it had been a long time since he’d really looked at another woman.
Amy waved a white cloth at him as she returned. “Grams said to use this.” She tossed it to him as she approached, a grin growing on her face. “Here’s the deal. You help me, and I’ll come over and help you.”
Normally he wouldn’t consider it, but for the first time in years, he felt like a man instead of just a dad. “Deal.”
Together they spread the sheet on the grass and raked the leaves into the center. When it had filled they dragged the burden to the side lot. The trip repeated over and over, and before he realized how much time had passed, the twins were scuttling across the road.
“We’re hungry.” Ivy’s softer voice reached him.
Holly’s command followed. “It’s time for dinner. Are you going to feed us?”
Mike checked his watch. Six o’clock. Time had flown. He eyed Ellie’s yard, almost empty of leaves, and drew up his shoulders. “Appears I’m being summoned.” He lifted the rake. “I can finish this tomorrow after work if you—”
“Tomorrow’s your yard. This is all but done.” She gave them a wave. “Your dad has been kind enough to help me with the leaves.”
The twins spun toward the pile as if they hadn’t noticed it. A grin grew on their faces, and before Mike could move, they’d darted past them toward the mound. Holly dived toward the heap first, but Ivy shot past and Holly tripped over her foot. She skidded onto her knees and tumbled into the crackling leaves as Ivy plowed in beside her, leaves flying into the air and skittering across the grass. Mike dropped his rake and dashed forward, but not before Holly was on top of her sister, hands around her throat. “You tripped me on purpose.”
“No, she didn’t.” Mike grasped her jacket and yanked her up. “You tripped over her foot.”
Tears flowed down Holly’s face, more from his taking Ivy’s side than from being hurt, he suspected.
“Are you okay?” Amy reached their side but stood back observing the fray.
As Mike pulled Ivy from the leaves, she gave him her sad-eyes look and rubbed her neck. “She choked me.”
“I know.” Embarrassed and helpless, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’d better get these girls home.”
Amy stepped closer. “If they’re hungry, Grams is ordering pizza and—”
“Pizza!”
Apparently the argument had been forgotten, but their eager voices failed to influence him. “Thanks anyway, Amy.”
“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Holly’s narrowed eyes matched her frown.
“Please don’t bark at me.” He turned a scowl back at her. “I’m sorry. The time flew and I didn’t realize—” He sucked in air and stopped apologizing. That was it. He’d grown tired of marching to Holly’s commands. “We’ll go home and have dinner after we talk again.”
“But the pizza.” Her frown deepened.
Ivy leaned her head against his side. He wrapped his arm around her, pleased she’d not gotten mouthy, too.
Amy stepped back, looking uneasy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His response faded as his mind filled in the blanks. To rake leaves. “In the afternoon. I have to work in the morning.”
“Afternoon’s fine.” A grin followed.
“Working Saturday happens on occasion.” He gave a shrug and put on a smile. “Thanks for the pizza invitation, but …” He tilted his head toward the girls.
“I understand.”
Even though they protested, Mike didn’t give in. He marched the twins across the street, knowing he had to get tough. Tough. That was so far from his nature, but he had to do something with the girls. What would Laura do? No, the real question was what would Amy do?
Chapter Three
Amy leaned her shoulder against the dining room doorway and watched her grandmother baking cookies with the twins. Worried about her relationship with the girls and her role as their teacher, Amy had made herself scarce while Grams kept an eye on them Saturday morning. She’d been cordial but stayed busy in her room, studying the textbooks and working on her lesson plans for Monday.
The twins fell into step with her grandmother without trauma. Surprised that they showed so much respect, Amy observed what Grams did, hoping to note what made the difference. She’d need to find a way to work with the twins and keep them together in the class. She wanted the opportunity to express her opinion to Mike.
She’d observed the girls’ constant wavering love/hate relationship. Competition created the problem, plus their lack of … what? What caused their need for negative attention. Mike seemed like a caring father. Maybe too caring. He tended to let them get away with a little too much. Sometimes a single parent tried to make up for the lack of the other parent by giving in to the wrong things.
Would Mike accept her help? If she said something, he could easily take it as criticism. She drew up her shoulders and released a breath. Fearing the girls might notice her, she backed away from the door and checked her watch. Mike said he should arrive home about noon—only minutes away.
Amy wandered to one of the front windows and looked toward the blue house. His wife chose the color, he’d said. Were his feelings still raw? According to Grams, it had been about three years since Mike’s wife had died. Death of a spouse lay beyond her experience. She couldn’t even imagine. And the poor girls. So young.
Seeing the empty driveway, she let the curtain drop, but as she did, a movement caught her eye. She looked again as Mike pulled toward the garage in the back of his yard and slid from his sedan. Hearing their murmuring voices in the kitchen, the girls were still preoccupied and that would give her a chance to slip across the road and talk with Mike before they realized he was home.
She tiptoed to the kitchen doorway, caught Grams’s attention and signaled she was going out. Grams nodded, and involved with the cookies, the girls hadn’t noticed. Her jacket hung in the front closet, and she slipped it on and exited through the front door. She grasped the rake she’d left on the porch and bounded down the front steps. A few additional leaves had drifted from the trees, but the yard still looked neat.
Mike had already gone inside as she crossed the road. Now that she’d made her move, she realized she might be rushing him, but her mission overrode her manners. As she approached the porch steps, the side door opened, and Mike gave her a wave. “You must be anxious to get the leaves raked.”
She grinned back, admiring him in his dressy pants, cream-colored shirt and maroon tie. “I sneaked away without the twins noticing. I thought we’d have time to talk.”
His face sank to concern. “Did they do something?”
She waved away her words. “No, they’ve been great.” Now she questioned her plan to talk with him. “I just thought—”
His hand raised, stopping her apology. “Good thinking. Alone time is difficult.”
The weight of discomfort lightened.
“Come in while I change.” He motioned to his attire before beckoning her inside.
Although she considered going in, she had second thoughts and held up the rake. “I’ll get started.”
He cocked his head, shrugged and disappeared.
In a couple of minutes she’d made some progress, but when she heard the door close, she turned and waited for Mike to join her.
Carrying a tarp along with his rake, he used his elbow to motion toward the house. “Would you rather talk first?”
Again she fought her thoughts. His earlier reaction had given her pause. “It’s such a lovely day. Let’s get this done.”
“Okay.” He grinned as he spread the tarp on the grass and dug in.
Riddled with an image of Mike making the twenty-minute drive to the school to deal with another incident, her curiosity wouldn’t rest. “What do you do for a living, Mike?”
“I’m a supervisor at Oscoda Plastics a few miles south on U.S. 23.”
“You’re a boss?”
He gave her a sad grin. “I am there.”
His plight with the girls caused her lungs to empty. His vulnerability made him not only likable but appealing. Yet beneath his grin, Mike’s confidence sometimes buckled. Even though he tried to hide it, his dauntless effort failed. She was first drawn by his good looks, but today his kindness and gentle ways prickled up her arms. If she ever married one day, she would want a man like Mike—playful, sincere and with more patience than she could credit herself.
“You’re quiet.”
His voice jarred her thoughts and generated guilt, knowing she’d been thinking of him. “Preoccupied, I guess.” She managed a grin and dug into the leaves. “I was thinking about the girls.”
Mike’s head lowered and he combed his fingers through his hair. “I figured you’d be concerned about having them in class.”
“No, that’s not it.” His troubled expression made her wish she hadn’t introduced the topic. “I know you feel compelled to follow the principal’s suggestion to separate them, but …” She stopped raking and leaned her weight against the handle. “I suspect the girls might be worse for it. Not better.”
He slowed the rake and rested his weight against it. “I had the same thought. I picture them at recess and here at home making up for the time separated.” His look grew intense. “But I thought you’d be relieved having only one to deal with.”
“Me?” She pressed her hand against her chest. “No, not yet anyway.” She hoped to lighten the serious mood. Their conversation had drawn his lips into a straight line and stole the sparkle from his eyes. “I watched them with Grams today, and they were respectful to her and each other. I want to figure out what it is that works. I worry if they were in separate classrooms, they wouldn’t learn how to get along or how to show love instead of disrespect to each other. I’d really like a chance to work with them. At least to try.”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She cared about them. “I don’t think Mrs. Fredericks will insist on separating them. I believe she’ll leave the decision up to you.” A new thought fell into her mind. “If I can’t handle them, maybe then she’d put pressure on you to make a decision, but not now.”
His tense shoulders dropped. “If you’re positive.”
Amy wasn’t positive she could make a difference, but she was positive she wanted to try. “Yes, I am.” But Mike’s concern had been for her, and although it touched her, she preferred his focus to be what was best for the girls. Rather than stir up any more tension, she let her thought fade.
He nodded as his rake hit the leaves again.
After making a pile, Mike dragged the bundle to the backyard. Three trips with the tarp made quick work of the leaves, and soon he left the tarp behind and instead dragged the leaves directly to the pile. She longed to sit and talk about a lot of things; his wife’s death, the girls’ reactions then and how they handled it now. Instead she gave another yank of the rake.
When the girls’ squeals vibrated from behind them, she and Mike stopped raking and spun around. The twins darted toward them, but they didn’t stop. Instead they barreled past, aiming for the leaf pile.
Anticipating another disaster, Amy held her breath. But this time, they dived into different sides of the mound and came up laughing. The sight trapped her in memories. The leaves drifted into the air and scattered while her heart followed. Childhood recollections drove her limbs forward, and as she sprang toward the tempting heap, Mike flew past, scooped up leaves and pitched them at her. She grabbed a handful and dashed toward him, but as she’d swung her arm to toss the colorful ammunition, she stumbled.
Mike dived forward and grabbed for her, but he missed. Both of them tumbled into the pile while the girls giggled and tossed leaves their way.
Dazed at her antics, Amy eyed Mike lying beside her, his tousled hair tangled in burnished rubble. Her heart rose to her throat.
Mike bounded to his feet and leaned down to give her his hand. She grasped his and bolted upward into his chest. Standing nose to nose, her heart tumbling to her stomach as she gazed into his eyes.
He gave her a squeeze. “Are you okay?”
His warm breath trembled across her neck. “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. The closeness sent chills racing down her back. She managed a chuckle, trying to ignore the sensation as she brushed the debris from her jacket.
The girls darted from the pile, laughing at their disheveled appearance while pointing at the leaves caught in their dad’s hair.
Mike shook his head, color in his cheeks alerting her of his embarrassment. “Leaves seem to bring out the child in me.”
She gazed down at her jeans and jacket. “Me, too, it appears.” She evaded his eyes and looked at his leaf-entangled hair. She raised her hand and pulled some out, relishing the feel of his thick mane against her fingers.
“Thanks.” His flush subsided as he strode toward Holly. “Let’s get you cleaned off before you drag it inside.”
Amy shifted to Ivy, wanting something to distract her wavering emotions. She pulled leaves from the child’s jacket and plucked them from her ponytails. When she finished, she looked at the girls, their names ringing in her mind. “Ivy and Holly.” The girls turned and looked at her with question. “Where did you get those names?”
“From our mommy and daddy.” Ivy grinned.
“They’re Christmas names.”
Holly slipped between Ivy and Amy, a leaf still caught in her hair. “Our birthday’s on December 24.”
Amy heart clutched. “That makes sense.” She plucked the last leaf from Holly’s hair, then rested her hands on their shoulders. “Did you know there’s a song about holly and ivy?”
Holly shook her head. “Sing it.”
Instead Mike opened his mouth and the music flowed out. “The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown, of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.”
His rich baritone voice enthralled her. “Mike, you have—” “Why does holly wear a crown?” Ivy slammed her fists into her sides.
“It’s the song, Ivy. I didn’t make up the words.” He gestured to Amy. “And apologize to Miss Carroll. She was talking and you interrupted.”
“But—”
“Apologize.”
Ivy stared at her shoes. “Sorry.”
Mike ignored Ivy’s lack of sincerity with her apology. “What were you saying?”
“You have an astounding voice.”
He flushed. “It’s been years. I don’t sing anymore.”
“But you should.”
His expression darkened for a moment before he found a grin. “Did you ever try to sing with two seven-year-olds under foot?”
Holly shook her head. “We’re not under your feet.”
He chuckled. “No, but you talk a lot.”
Ivy gave Amy’s jacket a tug. “Daddy plays the guitar, too.”
Amy’s senses twinged again. “Really?”
“Guilty as charged, but like singing, I …” He shrugged. “I haven’t touched the guitar in a long time.”
Ivy shook her head. “Sometimes at night when you think we’re sleeping, we hear you.”
He gazed at them for a moment. “You know it’s not necessary to tell everything about me, right?” He raked his hair with his fingers
“How come you don’t ever sing for us, Daddy?”
He gazed at Holly, and Amy noticed a somber look sneak to his face. “I will.” He drew her closer and then reached for Ivy. “And I’ll tell you later the story about the holly and ivy so you understand why the holly wears the crown, okay?”
The twins faces glowed.
Hope slid through Amy’s veins. Somewhere inside the two children lived joy, and if she could find the secret to what else was going on, maybe the troublesome two could become the treasured twins.
Her task settled in her mind. She’d do everything in her power to keep those girls in her class.
Mike watched Amy cross the street, her rake like a shepherd’s crook. He shuffled the girls inside wondering how he could ever explain where his heart had been for so long. Holly’s blunt question about his singing had stirred up his emotions, as did Amy’s compliment. You have an astounding voice. The words could have been Laura’s. But she’d gone to heaven, and even though he didn’t understand why the Lord wanted her, God saw the big picture. He didn’t. She’d been the motor that revved his love of singing.
Learning the girls had heard him playing the guitar served the same purpose. And Amy, too. His heart constricted. Her caring smile hovered in his mind like a melody. Just as Amy lingered in his thoughts, music couldn’t be forgotten either. It revived his spirit. Amy’s presence had done the same.
“You said you’d tell us, Daddy.”
Ivy’s voice broke his train of thought. He gazed at her sweet face and knelt on the kitchen floor, drawing the two girls into his arms. “Your mom always nagged me about singing and playing the guitar. Because she’s not here, I guess it left my thoughts.”
“Did Mom leave your thoughts?”
Holly’s troubled expression caused him dismay. “Never. I promised God to love her always, and I will, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have lots of love to share.”
“With us?”
“With you.” He paused, trying to word his next statement. “And maybe someday, I might meet someone who could be in our lives, too.”
“Like Amy?”
Ivy’s question tripped through his veins. “Someone like that. Someone who’s nice and likes both of you.”
Holly’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Miss Carroll doesn’t like us?”
“I think she does, don’t you, Daddy?” Ivy’s response gave his answer. “Yes. She wants to keep you together in class.”
“She does?” Their eyes widened.
“Unless you cause her trouble, and then she won’t want to deal with your antics.”
Holly scrutinized him again. “What’s antics?” “Your behavior. You know, how you act up sometimes.” Ivy gave her a poke. “Like choking me.” “Or tripping me.”