Christmas Gifts: Small Town Christmas / Her Christmas Cowboy

Chapter Four

Amy erased the blackboard and eyed the clock. She’d noticed buses arriving, and soon the halls would be quiet. Her first day on the job had been exciting. After her layoff in Chicago, teaching again so soon had seemed a hopeless dream. Yet here she was. She settled into her desk chair and breathed in the scent of chalk, floor polish and the beguiling scent of textbooks. She grinned.

When she gazed at the empty rows of chairs, she had pictured the twins sitting close together, eyeing each other while temptation crooked a finger, but they’d been perfect. But Amy faced reality. Thinking the girls would remain perfect was definitely a lofty goal.

Grams had a way with Ivy and Holly, but her only recommendation to Amy was to love them. She heaved a sigh. Mike loved them, but that didn’t work for him.

The sound of quiet echoed in the halls—the hum of fluorescent lighting and the yawn of a distant door. She eyed the stack of papers on her desk and drew them toward her, wanting to grade them by tomorrow. She’d asked the children to write a paragraph on how they would spend Thanksgiving.

Hearing how they would celebrate the holiday could give her an inside look at their families and their traditions. Coming into the semester late meant she needed a quick way to gain insight into her students’ lives. “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.