Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  He tilted the camera and admired the photographs she’d taken. “Very nice.”

  “In the city, we have white snow for a few minutes before it turns to gray slush. I want my friends to see how pretty the snow is here.”

  Her reference to friends caused him to twinge. Maybe a man waited for her in Chicago.

  Ivy nestled in between them. “We’re going to make a snowman when we get home.” She tilted her head, giving him a plea-filled look. “Aren’t we, Daddy?”

  Holly eyed him, too, and his frustration waned. “That was our plan.”

  To Mike’s discomfort, Ivy pressed the situation. “Want to come over and help?”

  Amy rocked from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure your dad needs help.”

  Holly jerked his jacket. “You do, don’t you?”

  He swallowed. “A really good snowman takes a lot of talented people.”

  “Then you can help us, Miss Carroll. You’re talented.”

  The uneasy feeling he’d felt earlier vanished when he heard Amy’s chuckle. “How can I say no to such a compliment?”

  Her smile thawed his icy thoughts while he basked in summery hopes.

  Chapter Five

  “I can’t believe they’re still outside.” Mike stood at the window gazing into his front yard watching the twins build a snowdog for the snowman. “They’re doing a good job.”

  Amy rose and joined him at the front window. “Very creative, I’d say.”

  Even though his eyes were on the girls, his senses were alive with Amy’s closeness. So near, his gaze swept across her flawless skin, her cheeks still highlighted by the crisp cold. Her pink lips smiled, soft and full.

  His lungs constricted, forcing his thoughts to cool it. He closed his eyes and sucked in air. “How about some of that hot chocolate the girls talked about?”

  “Sounds good.” Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, yet her gaze clung to his, and he knew they were trying to read each other but both seemed unsuccessful.

  He strode to the kitchen, needing to do something to keep his mind busy. He turned on the burner beneath the teakettle and opened the cabinet to pull out the mugs.

  In seconds, she followed. “Can I help?”

  “This is easy.” He lifted the hot chocolate mix and pointed to the label. “Just add hot water.” But then he pointed to an upper cabinet. “You can find the marshmallows, if you want. They’re up there somewhere.”

  She found them quicker than he might have and set them on the counter.

  “Please, have a seat.” He motioned toward the kitchen table, needing the distance. “The water will take a couple of minutes.”

  Amy shifted the chair and sat, watching him.

  Silence buzzed in his ears, and he searched through his thoughts for conversation. Seeing her in his kitchen, so fresh and appealing, his tongue had tied again.

  “Mike, does it bother you to talk about your wife?”

  “Laura?” The question whisked through his mind. “No, not anymore.” He pulled out the chair adjacent to hers and slipped into it. “Why?”

  She shrugged, a gentle expression swept over her face. “I think about the girls growing up without a mom, and I…”

  “You feel bad for them.”

  Her eyes searched his face. “No, but I understand. I’ve been there.”

  Her comment jarred him. “Really?”

  “I lost my mom when I was four.”

  The sadness in her eyes flooded over him. “I’m so sorry, Amy. I didn’t know.”

  She shrugged again. “Things happen, and we make it through. But I remember longing to be like the other kids and having a mom as they did. My father tried so hard to be both mother and father to me, but…”

  A chill prickled down Mike’s arms. He wanted to fill in the blank yet he had no words.

  She finally lifted her head and her eyes captured his. “My dad tried too hard, and when he felt helpless, he gave up. I had no idea what to do, and I felt responsible. I was six or seven when I took on the burden of my dad’s failure and his unhappiness.”

  Failure. Unhappiness. Six or seven. The words spilled over him, and he suffocated with the weight. Her comment buried him in thought until he managed to take a full breath. “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Maybe.” Her eyes searched his. “I know you’re trying to be a good dad, but a father is all you can be. You can’t be a mother. Not really.” She reached across the space and rested her hand on his. “But that’s okay because you can be the greatest dad. That’s important.”

  Overwhelmed, he struggled to grasp her words. “But how?”

  “Lose the guilt.”

  Memories flooded him—his talks with Laura about having a baby and her desire to wait. Why hadn’t he listened to her? He couldn’t deny his guilt. The talks with Laura were one-sided. He’d bugged her, wanting to be a dad. Wanting to be a family.

  Tenderness etched Amy’s face and rent him in two.

  “I do feel guilty sometimes, and I know I’ve failed them.”

  “Oh, Mike.” Her hand squeezed his. “You’re a great dad. Look at today, with the snowman and out to breakfast. You dote on them, but that’s part of the problem. You can love them, but they need firm directions without you giving in to their pleading. You’re gentle, but you need to be tough. I know that’s difficult for you.”

  He gave her a slow nod, understanding fully what she’d just said. “I’ve been realizing lately that I let them bully me. I give in to their demands. Holly barks, and I jump.”

  “She’s a strong character, but Ivy has her way, too. She’s the clinger, just like her name. She beguiles you with her sweet, pleading face.”

  He lowered his head with a chuckle. “You’re certainly observant.”

  She grinned. “Teachers take a lot of psychology classes. Too bad they can’t apply it to their own problems, but it helps to understand why people behave as they do.”

  That’s what Amy had been doing all along. Using her psychology training. He was the parent of two troublesome twins. Naturally she wanted to help the girls, and in the process make her teaching easier. Even though he appreciated her motivation for friendship, the reality left an emptiness in his chest.

  Amy eyed him, a scowl edging out her tender look. “Mike, I’ve hurt your feelings. I’m so sorry.”

  “No.” He slipped his hand from beneath hers and straightened. “You’ve helped me face reality.”

  Her scowl deepened.

  “I mean you gave me good advice. You’re right. I’m spoiling the girls. Real life doesn’t work that way. Not everything goes the way we want it to.” The words tore into him, and in the distance, he heard the whistling of the teakettle. He rose. But the sweetness had vanished.

  When he looked at her, Amy hadn’t moved, but her face registered awareness that their mood had changed. Her expression twisted his heart.

  She rose. “Maybe I should go.”

  Their conversation skittered to a halt. Maybe he’d misread her comments. Trying to decipher Amy had troubled him from the start. “Please. Stay. Let’s have the hot chocolate.”

  Her expression didn’t change, but she sank back into the chair.

  He stirred water into the chocolate mix and popped marshmallows into the mug. “Hot chocolate cures what ails you.”

  He set the mug in front of her and made a cup for himself. When he returned to the chair, he knew he had to change the subject. “Do you miss Chicago?” Despite the hot chocolate, cold anticipation washed over him.

  “I love the city.” Her gaze drifted toward the back window looking out into the snowy woods behind the house.

  He held his breath.

  “But I spent lots of time in Harrisville when Dad and I came to visit Grams. I consider this my second home.”

  His own past came to mind. “I grew up in Cincinnati, but I’ve learned to love the quiet of small town living. It’s like one big family in a way.”

  “It is.” Yet her eyes said so
mething else. “Not sure I could live in a small town permanently. I worry I’d be bored.”

  The response he’d anticipated sent an icy chill up his spine. If he really wanted to cool his feelings, he would want her to go to Chicago. But he didn’t.

  Her gaze caught his. “But right now, unless a job offer calls me back, I’m here.”

  He tried again. “Anyone special you’ve left behind?”

  She shifted her gaze from his eyes, a thoughtful look spreading over her face. “No one special. Coworkers and people I’ve gotten to know in my apartment building. But friends can be found everywhere.” She locked eyes with him.

  “Everywhere.” Did she refer to the twins or did she like him, too? Caution told him to change the subject. Yet he opened his mouth, a feeler comment fell out. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Amy.”

  She searched his face as she lifted her cup and took a sip. “I have to admit I’ve met some nice people here.” She gave him a full smile.

  The tension between them slipped away with her smile. His relationship with Amy confused him, and he wasn’t sure what he expected, but being a dad didn’t negate being a man. Right now he would enjoy her friendship.

  Amy sipped her hot chocolate, watching him.

  “Have you been in Harrisville for the Christmas tree-lighting celebration?”

  “You mean the one they decorate on U.S. 23?”

  “Right. It’s a big occasion.”

  “I’ve never been here for that.” Her eyes lowered to the hot chocolate. “When is it?”

  “Tomorrow. It’s always the Sunday before Thanksgiving.”

  She wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Are you and the girls going?”

  His lungs emptied as he tried to keep his mind thinking friendship. “I wouldn’t miss it. Carols, hot chocolate and cookies, music. The whole community shows up.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  Mike studied her a moment. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “The Goodfellows light the tree at dusk. About five o’clock, but the caroling and hot chocolate start at four. You’d be welcome to come with us.” His pulse skipped. “I know the girls would love it.” And if he was completely honest, so would he.

  Her head inched upward. “I’d love to.”

  “Daddy, come look.” The door banged into the wall as the twins called out in unison.

  Mike jerked upward, his mind still reeling with her eager acceptance. “I guess I’d better look.”

  Amy carried the mug and strode beside him into the living room.

  A sense of wholeness rolled through him for the first time in three years.

  “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let Earth receive her King.” Mike’s rich voice soared through the air to the strum of a guitar and took Amy’s spirit with it. She pulled her scarf higher up around her neck, feeling the melody wrap around her soul. Today not only the hot chocolate but also the music warmed her heart.

  Ivy and Holly had shifted closer to the huge evergreen tree decorated with colorful lights soon to be turned on, but even from a distance, Amy witnessed the cookie crumbs on the front of the girls’ jackets. She grinned, gazing at their wide eyes as if they’d never attended a tree-lighting ceremony before, though Mike said they came every year.

  So many people had stopped to greet Mike, and he’d introduced her to them. She’d met Deidre Gray, owner of Maggie’s On Main, a gift shop she’d passed often but hadn’t stopped in yet. She looked forward to shopping there, wanting to purchase something special for Grams as a Christmas gift.

  Everyone seemed to like Mike. He greeted them with a bright smile, trying to cover the discouragement she sometimes saw in his eyes. Mike had said more than once that he’d overcome the grief of his wife’s death, but something clung to the memory no matter how many years it had been. She should understand. After twenty-five years, her mother’s disappearance still remained an open wound.

  When Mike touched her arm, Amy jerked. “It’s almost time.” He pointed to the tree.

  She craned her neck around the heads of adults standing in front of her and saw the girls bouncing, gigantic smiles on their faces, their blue eyes round as the moon. She shot Mike a grin. The guitar began to strum again, and she longed to see Mike there leading the music. The crowd joined in singing the familiar carol, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” as the lights sparked into a colorful display on the tree.

  Even though uneasy with her singing ability, she sang with the others. “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.”

  Mike’s baritone voice bolstered her confidence. He slipped his arm behind her back and gave her a hug. Touched by his enthusiasm, she leaned into his warmth and the comfort of his closeness. He smiled at her, and caught up in the excitement, she beamed back. The music, the lighted tree, the twins’ smiles, the warmth of Christmas wrapped her in a holiday package.

  “Mike, thanks for inviting me. This was wonderful.”

  He drew her even closer. “This is just the beginning. Wait until we have Christmas in the Village.”

  “You mean Christmas Eve?”

  “That, too, but I’m talking about December third. Everything happens the first Saturday in December.”

  Amy was confused. “What do you mean everything happens?”

  “Craft bazaars, the annual cookie walk and bake sale, Santa at the library with activities for children and the stores offer shopping specials.” He gave her a teasing poke. “We can even go on a hayride, and then you can warm up with cider at the Harrisville Arts Council.”

  “That does sound like everything.” Her head reeled with the list of activities.

  “Put it on your calendar.”

  Her calendar. Mike had been a major part of her calendar, and the whole idea threw her off balance. Her determination to remain uninvolved had turned to ash. Amy managed a grin, but caught in confusion she evaded his gaze. He seemed to see too much in her eyes. Right now she didn’t understand herself, so she didn’t want him making wild guesses.

  As some of the crowd moved on toward the hot chocolate and some toward their cars, she waited while Mike rounded up the girls. Although the joy of Christmas filled her, beneath it, impending concerns edged into her thoughts. Falling for this man created too many problems. The girls were her students, she loved Chicago and belonged there, her father’s deep sadness and too many failed marriages among people she knew. The relationship was a puzzle with pieces that didn’t fit. She either needed to get a grip now or throw herself into the fray while she prayed the Lord was guiding her path. A God she hadn’t talked to in a long time.

  Chapter Six

  The scent of roasted turkey drifted from the oven. Amy licked her fingers, tasting the tangy cranberry-and-orange relish she’d made for their dinner. She’d also contributed the pumpkin pies with Grams’s guidance. Having no mom to teach her to cook, her skills had been hit or miss, but not when Grams was around. Her grandmother didn’t accept mediocrity when it came to cooking, especially with Thanksgiving dinner. Amy’s heart soared when the pies came from the oven yesterday afternoon, looking and smelling perfect, just like Grams’s.

  Lifting the bowl of cranberry sauce, she turned and caught her grandmother gazing at her. “Are you checking on me?” She grinned.

  No smile slipped to her Grams’s lips. “I’m thinking.”

  Amy’s legs turned to mush. When Grams had something on her mind, she didn’t hide her feelings. “What’s wrong?”

  Her grandmother clasped the back of a chair and pulled it out, then sank to the seat and gave Amy a look.

  She didn’t have to ask. Grams wanted to talk about her not going to church. Amy slipped onto the chair, waiting for her grandmother’s sage wisdom about what Jesus expected. She’d meant to go because she knew church was important to her grandmother, but she had formed a bad habit, following her father’s lead. He’d withdrawn from everything after her mother vanished.


  “You know I love you, Amy.”

  “I love you, too, Grams.”

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I—” She shook her head. “I just can’t keep quiet any longer.”

  Amy searched her grandmother’s face.

  “How long are you planning to stay in Harrisville?”

  Amy’s stomach twisted in knots. “I—I agreed to finish out the school year, Grams. That’s in June. Have I done something?” Panic ripped through her. “Do you want me to find another place to stay?”

  “No, honey. What would give you that idea?” Sadness filled her eyes. “I love having you here, but I’m concerned.”

  “Concerned?”

  “About Mike and the girls. You’re spending an awful lot of time with them.”

  Amy’s head spun and she broke eye contact. Grams had been the one to invite them to dinner. But it was more than that. Mike had stepped into her life and filled it. “Does that bother you?”

  “I care about them, Amy, just like I care about you. I’ve watched them finally begin to heal from Laura’s death, and I worry that…that Mike’s feelings have grown for you. And those little girls, too—and one of these days—”

  “I’ll walk away and leave them.” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop thinking.

  “Yes.” Her grandmother’s face sank as her eyes lowered to her apron. “It would break their hearts.”

  Amy held her breath. Nothing could remedy the reality that one day she might go back. Part of her cherished Harrisville, but Chicago lingered in her mind. Its life and vigor. Fun and education at her fingertips. The skyscrapers soaring toward heaven. Cars like bugs skittering along the streets to escape red lights and traffic jams. The city was alive.

  Amy faced her grandmother. “I’ve thought about that, too. I’m torn. I care about the twins, and Mike is the greatest. If I ever fell in love, it could easily be with a man like him.”

  Grams smoothed the wrinkle in her apron. “Why haven’t you ever fallen in love?”