“Miss Carroll.”
Amy jerked at the familiar voice. She eyed her watch. “Ivy, shouldn’t you be on the bus?”
Holly slipped past her sister into the room. “We missed it.”
“Missed it?” She studied both of the girls. “How did you do that?”
“Ivy went to the bathroom.”
Ivy strutted forward shaking her head at Holly. “Uh-uh. You went and I followed.”
Now what? She studied their faces, aware of what they expected. “Maybe there’s another bus going your way. Let’s go down to the office.”
“There’s not.” The too-familiar determined look settled on Holly’s face.
She ignored her. “We need to check.” She rose and strode through the doorway, hearing two sets of footsteps behind her.
When she entered the front office, Sue Murphy, the secretary, arched an eyebrow. “What are you two doing here?”
“We missed the bus, because Ivy—”
“Uh-uh. It was Holly’s fault.”
“The last bus left. I’ll have to notify your driver so he doesn’t worry and then call your dad.” Sue braced her hands against the counter. “He’s not going to be very happy.”
Ivy bustled closer. “You don’t have to call our dad.”
Holly shouldered her sister out of the way. “We can ride home with Miss Carroll. She lives on our street.”
The woman peered at her. “Are you okay with this?”
She bit her lip. This was what she feared—the girls becoming too familiar and taking advantage. “Would you check with their father first?”
“Certainly.”
Amy studied the twins’ eager faces, and thought of Mike being dragged home from work again. The girls often went to her grandmother’s anyway or a sitter came in until Mike arrived home. She evaded the twins’ pleading looks and focused on Sue’s telephone conversation. Watching the secretary’s head nod gave Amy her answer. Mike had agreed.
When the girls learned he’d agreed she drive them home, their faces brightened. Amy’s didn’t. Her plan to work on tomorrow’s lessons at her school desk ended with the new development.
She strode back to her room, slipped on her coat, gathered the homework papers and her planning book and then herded the twins outside. Once in the car, she faced them in the backseat. “You can’t do this everyday, girls. Some days I need to stay here and work. I’m sure you’d rather be home with a sitter or with Gramma Ellie.”
Restrained by the seat belts, Holly leaned as close as she could. “We could help you.”
Ivy nodded in agreement.
Amy started the car. “Not when I’m planning lessons and correcting papers,” Amy said.
“But we could—”
“That won’t work.” Amy used her teacher’s voice. “Next time I’ll have Mrs. Murphy call your dad to pick you up.”
Ivy’s face sank. “He’ll be mad.”
“Right.” She backed her car out of the spot.
The fifteen-minute ride home remained restrained except for a few comments the girls made to each other. Amy wished she could hear because she suspected they were plotting. When she pulled into the driveway, the two tumbled out and darted to Grams’s side door. She sat a moment, determined to come up with a way to discourage their ploy from happening again.
When she stepped inside the house, voices came from the kitchen, and as she passed the door, she gave her grandmother a wave and went directly to her room. She tossed her coat on a chair and slipped off her shoes, settling her feet into her fuzzy slippers. The weather had turned cold since they’d raked on Saturday. That evening, she’d watched Mike burning leaves, and she’d longed to wander over but forced herself to stay away. And although she considered her decision wise, especially after the girls’ shenanigans today, part of her hoped that Mike would invite her over to sit with him as he monitored the fire.
She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize her teaching position or allow her heart to tangle around a widowed man and his daughters. That could easily lead to heartbreak. Plus she was certain she wouldn’t live forever in a small town. Chicago’s excitement lured her back.
Amy pulled on a sweatshirt before settling on the bed. She leaned forward and grasped the stack of papers she’d brought home. She read the first child’s paragraph relating how the family watched football on TV and he listed the Thanksgiving dinner menu. While she made a note of spelling errors, her curiosity led her to search for the twins’ papers in the pile.
Skimming Holly’s paper, her heart sank.
“Daddy takes us to Mama’s Country Kitchin for diner on Thanksgiving. Daddy says a prayer, and we say what we give thanks for. Then we have turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. Then we have punkin pie.”
A restaurant for Thanksgiving? Her throat tightened as her eyes flashed across Ivy’s paper. Better spelling didn’t brighten the message.
“On Thanksgiving, Daddy takes us out to eat, but what I wish is that we could eat at home. We did when our mom was alive. Now Thanksgiving is different. But I am happy that I have a dad who loves me. We say thank you for all good things before we eat.”
Amy brushed tears from her eyes, trying to hold back a flood of them. Her own childhood memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases came to mind, when she, too, ached for a mother in her life. As she grew older, she’d tried to concentrate on the positives in her life, but the old haunting ache remained just as it had surfaced today.
Determination pried its way into her mind. Even though she’d been set on keeping her distance with the twins, how could she when Mike and the girls ate Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant?
Before Amy had moved to Harrisville, her grandmother often spent holiday meals with church friends, but Grams had announced this year they would celebrate at home. The glint in her grandmother’s eye made Amy realize Grams had been lonely for family. So had she for all the years living in Illinois, first with only her father and later alone in an apartment.
The papers slipped from her fingers, and Amy leaned back against the pillow, fighting heavy eyes and a heavy heart. She lowered her lids for a moment, thinking a couple minutes’ rest might refresh her after the first day of her new job.
The scent of cookies drifted into her room, and Amy bolted upward, eyeing the clock. She’d slept for over an hour. Voices penetrated her bedroom door, including a man’s voice.
Mike.
She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and sat up. As she did, some of the papers fluttered to the floor. She rose, gathered them and tossed them on the bed. Then eyeing herself in the vanity mirror, she grabbed a comb and ran her hands through the tangles, then headed for the door.
As her hand hit the knob, a surge of apprehension swept over her as she considered talking with Grams about Mike and the girls. No one should eat Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant. Yet she pushed the idea out of her mind for the moment and opened the door. She needed distance, or she’d face the ramifications at school.
“There you are.” Grams gave her a welcoming smile.
“I smelled the cookies.” She looked at Mike. “I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”
A crooked smile lit his face. “I like your footwear.”
She looked down at her fuzzy slippers, and her cheeks heated.
Grams gave a chuckle as she ran a spatula beneath a freshly baked cookie and set it on a plate. “What were you doing in there so long? I figured you’d be out here after the first batch of cookies.”
The question slid down her spine. “I brought home work from school. You know, papers I need to correct.”
Mike grinned. “First day on the job and you’re already correcting papers?”
“It’s a teacher’s life.” She realized the twins flanked him, their eyes wide and questioning. She’d already decided not to make an issue out of their little ploy.
“Thanks for driving the girls home.” His words rang with discouragement.
A lum
p formed in her throat. “You’re welcome.”
He placed a hand on the top of each girl’s head. “I told them no more missing the bus. I don’t expect you to chauffeur them home from school because they were dallying.”
“But Daddy, I told you—”
Mike held up a finger, and the girls’ opened mouths closed.
“I’ve already explained I can’t give them a ride all the time.” She pressed her lips together to stop speaking. She knew in her heart, if he needed her to, she would.
“More cookies, girls?” Grams extended the plate.
But Mike held up his hand. “I think we’ve all had enough. One more, and we won’t want dinner.”
His comment drew Amy’s attention to the girls. They had a trace of a white mustache and a few crumbs on their cheeks and lips.
Mike brushed crumbs from the front of his shirt. “We need to get home, but thanks so much for the treat, Ellie, and for watching the girls.”
“It’s always a pleasure, and don’t forget my invitation.” Her grandmother’s face glowed.
Invitation? Amy’s gaze shifted from her grandmother to Mike.
“Your home cooking beats Mama’s Country Kitchen any day of the week. Thanks for your generous offer.”
The girls bounced on their toes, their faces filled with glee. “Can we, Daddy? Really?”
He drew closer to Holly. “If you learn to behave in school.”
“I behave.”
“They were excellent in class today.” Amy gave him a tender smile.
“Good.” Mike wrapped an arm around each girl. “If they can keep that up until Thanksgiving, I’ll be pleased to accept your invitation.”
Amy’s pulse kicked up a notch. What could she do? Grams had asked, and she would deal with it. While a warmth spread through her chest, beneath her buoyant thoughts, a caution sign blinked.
Mike watched the snowflakes drift into piles against the house next door. Winter had made its appearance in time for Thanksgiving. He’d held his breath since he’d made his proclamation about the Thanksgiving invitation, but Holly and Ivy had made it through the rest of the week without incident. At least, he hadn’t been notified. He avoided putting Amy on the spot by calling her to check, even though he’d been tempted. In his heart he knew his girls’ behavior would have only been a cover for his real motive. He liked Amy—a lot.
And he marveled at how much Ivy and Holly liked her. Amy seemed innovative with their lessons. Each day after school when he arrived home from work, they gave him details of stories they read, paragraphs they’d written, games they’d played with their math problems, and how they were making a bulletin board of all their drawings of different kinds of animals they were studying. Their enthusiasm bolstered his spirit.
He rose from the kitchen table and strode to the hallway, wondering if they were awake. “Did you see the snow?”
A rustle sounded in their bedrooms, and he guessed they’d just crawled out of bed. He glanced at his watch. Nine. He could have waited. His peaceful Saturday morning always ended once the girls roused from their rooms.
Holly popped her head out the door. “Can we make a snowman?”
“First I thought we’d go out to breakfast.”
“Breakfast!” Ivy appeared in pants and her pajama top. “Can we?”
“Get ready.”
Looking forward to eating out, the twins made quick work of getting dressed, and they were all on their way in minutes. Mike drove down Main Street and pulled into the Flour Garden. Inside, he greeted the owner, Manny, as he passed through the small store filled with the scent of fresh ground coffee, then past the bakery counter, Mike found a booth along the wall. He looked out the window and watched flakes setting on the large evergreen across the street. Tomorrow it would be decorated for Christmas, and the town would gather for the tree-lighting. The event lured people from their cozy homes to listen to the music and enjoy the cookies and hot chocolate as they sang carols and joined in the festivities.
Mike pulled his gaze from the snow-covered knoll and chatted with a couple of his neighbors before he perused the menu. When Jill appeared to take their order, she offered her usual smile and patiently waited while the girls decided on their choices. Mike wondered why they took so long. They usually ordered pancakes. Today was no different.
He barely downed his first cup of coffee when the food arrived, and the twins became silent as they delved into the pancakes and drank their juice. Before Mike had time to make a dent in his meal, Holly’s voice jerked his attention.
“I’m finished.”
Mike lowered his coffee cup and eyed her plate. She had indeed gobbled down her food. “You’ll get sick eating so fast.”
“But I’m anxious to make a snowman.”
Ivy took a bite of her pancake and rolled her eyes. “You eat like a pig.”
Holly spun around and grabbed one of Ivy’s ponytails and gave it a jerk. “I do not.”
Mike held up his hand. “We don’t talk to people like that.”
Ivy started to roll her eyes again before she caught herself. “Sorry.”
He gave Holly a pointed look. “And you don’t pull people’s hair.” His fun morning vanished like a snowman in the sun. He signaled the waitress for the bill. After she slipped the tab on the table, he snatched it off, put on his coat and trudged to the cashier.
The girls squabbled behind him, each blaming the other while he tried to close his ears. One moment he rallied, and the next moment his hopes sagged. Discouraged, he trudged outside.
The sun had slipped from behind the clouds, sending prisms of light across the fluffy flakes. Mike wished his spirit shone as bright as the landscape.
“Daddy?”
He gave Ivy a fleeting glance. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I won’t call Holly a pig ever again.”
He didn’t know if he should laugh or groan. “Thank you.”
“And I won’t choke Ivy anymore. I promise,” Holly mumbled.
When he looked at their hangdog expressions, his anger faded. “Why do you do this? Every time I think we’ll have a nice day, you ruin it with your horrible behavior.”
Tears brimmed Ivy’s eyes, and even Holly looked crestfallen. He knelt on the ground, the snow wetting his knees. “I don’t enjoy being upset with you. Do you know that?” He slipped his arms around them. “But you can’t keep acting like this. Instead of being proud of you both, you disappoint me, and…” His voice locked in his throat.
Instead of responding, Ivy threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be good, Daddy.”
Holly only nodded.
He gazed at Ivy, wanting to remind her that she’d said the same thing before.
“I suppose we can’t make a snowman now.”
He rose without answering and unlocked the car’s door. After the girls slipped in, he pulled away from the restaurant still weighing his thoughts.
As he approached Third Street, he turned right. Instead of home, he headed for Harrisville State Park. For once he was doing something for himself and in the process, delayed the snowman issue. He loved seeing the untrodden snow along the breadth of the shore and the white snowfall weighing the evergreen boughs.
The girls’ muttering let him know they were curious, but neither asked where they were going. He veered into the parking area to the girls’ outcries of pleasure, and as he rolled into a spot, his heart skipped when he saw the familiar dark orange hatchback.
“Miss Carroll’s here.”
Their voices sailed to him in unison. He heard the snap of their seat belts, and their door opened as a damp chill whisked into the car. He turned off the motor and stepped outside, both curious and anxious. He’d longed to see Amy again, but he hadn’t found a good excuse. Now he didn’t need one.
The twins shot ahead of him, slipping and skittering past the pavilion filled with snow-covered picnic tables. When Amy heard them, she swung around, surprise on her face, and when her eyes met
his, she smiled.
But the expression appeared strained, and he faltered. “Sorry to disturb you.” His breath billowed in a white mist.
“The park’s public.” Her smile settled to a grin. “I haven’t been to the park since I moved here, and I knew it would look lovely in the snow.”
He agreed. “We’re heading home from breakfast.”
She gazed at him in silence.
He peered at his boots ankle deep in snow and tucked his hands into his pockets. He’d forgotten his gloves in the car. Tongue-tied, he searched for something to say. Then he noticed she carried a camera. “Taking photos?”
She held it up and nodded. “I want to send a few to some friends in Chicago. They don’t see pristine settings like this very often.”
“Do you live in downtown Chicago?” Mike knew little about her except what Ellie happened to mention.
“I did until I lost my job.”
Now he remembered Ellie had told him about her job. “I suppose it was difficult to leave a big city for such a small town.”
A one shoulder shrug was her response.
“And leaving your friends.”
“In a way. But I wanted to spend time with Grams, so it seemed a good time to make the change. It is different here.”
Before he could learn more, she walked away, stopping to snap a few photos.
When the girls noticed her camera, they waved. “Take a picture of us.”
Holly dashed for one slide and Ivy for the other. They climbed the snow-covered stairs and plopped onto the wet top before he could stop them. Feeling the cold through his boots, he could only imagine the chill the girls felt sitting on the icy metal. Amy stood between the two slides and snapped one photo then another as they slid to the ground. Their laughter echoed in the quiet. If only his troubles could be whisked away by laughter.
Ivy skipped to Amy followed by Holly, and she let them look at the digital photographs. As he approached, Holly waved him closer. “Look at our picture.”
Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy Page 4
