Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy Page 6

  A weight stooped her shoulders. “I—” Amy sought the words, something that would make sense to her grandmother without hurting her. “You didn’t see Dad after Mom left, Grams. He lost his spirit. He sank into a pit and never came out, even though he tried to put on a good front when he came here to visit.”

  “I’m not blind, Amy. I could see that, but what does that have to do with you, other than feeling bad for your dad?”

  “It’s not just his marriage. I’ve worked with people whose marriages failed. They either sink into an abyss or they dive off the high board into an empty pool. They get silly, run around and get involved in empty relationships to hide their pain. If I never fall in love, then I don’t have to deal with that. I can hang on to my heart without having it ripped out of my chest.”

  “Oh, Amy.” Her grandmother lowered her head, rocking it back and forth as if what she’d said had devastated her. “Grams, I—”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but that’s not how the heart works. When you close your heart, you close it to every relationship because you’re not willing to take a chance at being vulnerable. You can’t live a full life like that.”

  “My life is full. I have friends and I had a good job until—”

  “Friends are important. A job gives security, but Amy, what makes life full or complete? Can a job or friends do that?”

  “I thought so.” Her heart sank when she uttered the words. She knew better. Many times an emptiness worked its way through her.

  “I know your dad turned his back on the Lord. It’s not how we raised him, but he lost his way, and my only hope is now that he’s learned that your mom has passed, he’ll rebuild his life again.”

  “He’s dating a nice lady, Grams. That’s what he tells me. He’s spending Thanksgiving with her family today. I’m happy for him.”

  The tension in her face softened. “So am I. Your dad remained married to your mother despite what she’d done, running off and living with a man all those years. It’s not my job to judge. I leave that to the Lord, but I know it hurt you both. Deeply. If I could have made it better I would have, but I never thought it would end your dreams of having a family one day. Never. You love children. The Lord gives us talents. Yours is working with children. Mine’s cooking.” A grin eased her face. “And loving your grandpa, and I didn’t do too badly raising our son.”

  “He’s a good person, Grams. He just became lost.” Memories flooded her. “Dad tried so hard, but he couldn’t connect with me. When Mom left, I—I don’t know. I guess I closed down, too, and later I felt guilty, knowing I had turned my back on Dad. I blame myself for his unhappiness.”

  A gasp escaped Grams. “No! You were always his joy.”

  “But I didn’t know how to make him better.”

  “You were four years old. How could you be the cause or the solution?” Her tongue made tsking sounds as she shook her head. “I wish we’d talked about this years ago.”

  Amy grabbed her grandmother’s hand. “So do I.” Today she’d exposed her feelings for the first time. They’d bored into her mind, turning and twisting while she tried to make sense of them.

  She lifted her grandmother’s hand and pressed her lips to her crepey skin. “I’ll be open and honest with Mike before anything happens. I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  Her grandmother gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re a good girl, Amy. I just couldn’t hold all this in when—”

  The doorbell jarred their conversation.

  Amy rose. “I’ll let them in, Grams. Don’t worry, please.”

  Even though her grandmother nodded, Amy wasn’t fooled. Grams was worried, but then so was she.

  Mike pushed away his empty dessert plate and grinned at Ellie, still wrapped in a big apron. “These pies were excellent. Your best.”

  She chuckled and gave a nod toward Amy. “You’ll have to thank my granddaughter. Amy made the pies.”

  Amy’s cheeks turned rosy. “But I used Grams’s recipe. I’m not much of a cook.”

  “If these pies are any evidence, I think you’re wrong.” Mike tossed off the comment casually, but he was seriously worried. Amy had been quiet today. Withdrawn even, and he didn’t understand why. The last time they were together at the tree-lighting, she’d been sweet, thanking him for inviting her. They’d even made plans for Saturday’s Christmas in the Village.

  “Holly. Ivy.” Grams’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise.” Holly slipped from the chair.

  Grams grinned. “A gift, but you’ll have to help me get it ready.”

  Ivy tilted her head. “But it’s not even Christmas yet.”

  “This present helps you get ready for Christmas.” She beckoned them to follow.

  Mike watched them go, leaving him alone with Amy. An uneasy feeling wiggled along his limbs. She confused him.

  “Would you like more coffee?”

  He pushed aside his uneasy feelings. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Amy strode from the room while he drew in a lengthy breath. When she came through the doorway, she headed toward him with the coffee carafe, filled his cup and then her own before settling back into her chair.

  “Grams made the girls an Advent calendar.”

  “Ellie’s always thoughtful.” From her expression, he detected she saw it as a comparison. “That’s where you’ve learned your kindness, I’m sure.” She flinched, and he wished he’d kept his mouth closed.

  “No one has the heart that Grams has. She’s one of a kind.”

  He wanted to argue the point, but he sensed it would be purposeless. Quiet settled over them as he scrambled for conversation. “Did you send the photos of the snow to your friends in Chicago?”

  “I did. A few wrote back how much they envied me.” She looked as though she had more to say. He waited, but she remained quiet.

  “I suppose some of them do. I suspect you won’t agree, but I think you fit in here, and we both know it makes your grandmother happy.”

  She didn’t respond, and the silence smothered him. Finally, he could take it no more. “Have I done something to upset you, Amy? Me or the girls?”

  “The girls? You? No, not at all, Mike.” Her eyes searched his. “Why?”

  “You’re distracted. I sense something’s up, and I just want to get it out in the open.”

  Her gaze lowered to her lap, and he watched her weave her fingers together before she looked up again. “It’s not you. Grams said something to me that hasn’t set well.”

  He couldn’t stop his frown. “Your grandmother?”

  “She’s worried about you and the girls. You know how—”

  “Worried? About what?”

  She pressed her lips together, and he could see she struggled to respond. “She thinks we’re close, and she fears that when I go back to Chicago that—”

  “That we’ll miss you.” When I go back. A knot rose in his throat.

  “Yes, but more than that. I know the girls like me a lot, and—” She squirmed against the chair. “They’ve already lost someone important to them. I’m—”

  “Their mother. Yes, but…”

  “Grams worries that they’ll be hurt if I go.”

  If I go. Which was it? When or if? “You are planning to go back then?” He held his breath waiting for her response. He feared it was too late to guard his heart, or the girls’.

  “Yes. No.” She shook her head as if trying to toss a wasp from her hair. “I don’t know, Mike. I’ve made a commitment here until June. I don’t know if I can find a teaching job in Chicago or if I’ll ever have a job here either, so it’s a toss-up what will happen.”

  A ragged breath escaped him. What about the girls and him? Did she even care?

  Her gaze softened. “I’ll miss all of you terribly if I go back. That’s not even a question.”

  “What draws you back, then—other than the city itself?”

  An expression slid across her face tha
t he couldn’t read, almost as if she were waiting for her answer to his question.

  “You told me you don’t have anyone special in your life. I assume that also means no special guy.”

  She blinked as if he’d surprised her. “I’m not one for dating and romance. You’ve probably noticed.”

  Noticed? Never. She’d drawn him to her like a magnet. “Why not? You’re a beautiful woman.”

  She gave her head a quick wag as she lowered her gaze. “Thank you. People say I look like my mom.”

  “She died, right?”

  “Died? Yes, a year ago, but she was gone long before that.”

  “Gone?”

  “One day, she packed her bags and left. She left my dad and me behind. Just walked away.”

  The bottom fell out of his stomach. “Amy, I’m sorry. I can’t even…” His head rattled with empty words. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Neither did I for years. I was about four when she left.”

  “Four.” And the woman didn’t take her child with her? When it sank in, he understood so much. “And you thought you’d done something to send her away.”

  Looking surprised, she seemed to search for a response.

  His chest knotted, facing the hurt he’d caused by making that statement.

  “You’re right, Mike. I guess that’s what I felt. No one else’s mother left their child behind and walked away from her home and family.”

  “You were only four. I’m sure she loved you.” He couldn’t imagine the hurt and damage she’d experienced. So many questions were answered by her explanation. He sat dumbfounded.

  “Maybe she did love me. I’ll never know.” She lifted her shoulders. “But I deal with it. At least I try.”

  “But not as well as you’d like.” In her eyes, he saw his girls. Their mother had died, but the abandonment they must have felt—maybe still did—overwhelmed him.

  Instead of being upset with him, Amy gave a soft chuckle. “You’re intuitive, like Grams.”

  “Am I?”

  She nodded. “You have an amazing heart, Mike. It’s all in your face.”

  He’d spent much of his life trying to camouflage his feelings. Had he failed or could it be that Amy had the power to read his emotions better than anyone? And because she read his thoughts, why not finish his thoughts? “And that’s why you empathize with the twins.”

  Her lips pressed together. “Yes, the girls…and you, too. I saw the hurt my father went through. He never totally healed until he got word from her sister that she’d died. After Mom walked out, Dad had little contact with her family and none as time passed.” She drew in a lengthy breath. “I barely remember my mother’s face, and Dad destroyed all the photos.”

  The pictures of Laura he’d clung to but had never had the courage to look at surged into his mind. Did the girls still remember what their mom looked like? An icy sensation rolled through his chest. Had he caused their mother’s memory to fade?

  “Daddy, look.”

  Following the cry, footsteps pounded on the hardwood floors, and he turned toward the doorway. The girls charged in each clutching a cloth picture like a December calendar with each day a pocket. He pulled his emotions in place and listened to their explanation of the symbols for each day that attached with velcro.

  Ivy pulled out a candle. “See this one, Daddy? It means Jesus is the light of the world. Gramma Ellie made a pocket for every day right up to Christmas.”

  “That’s quite a gift.”

  Amy eyed the felt calendar. “It’s lovely, and each day you’ll have a reminder about what Jesus means to you.”

  Her voice softened as she finished, and Mike noticed the look on her face. Sometimes he could read her, too, and today he saw that she’d almost forgotten what Jesus could do for her. He prayed for her daily that Christ would become a flame in her life. He gazed at the candle in Holly’s hand. Everyone needed light in their life. When he looked at Amy, for him, she’d become part of the glow.

  Chapter Seven

  Mike’s mind spun trying to organize the events on Saturday. Christmas in the Village offered more activities than the day could hold. The girls looked forward to going to the library where they could visit with Santa and work on a craft. Amy’s interest tended toward visiting the Holiday Bazaar at Maria Hall. He longed to hide out in the Harrisville Arts Council building and enjoy the hot cider and Christmas cookies.

  “Aren’t we going on a hayride?”

  Ivy’s voice split his thoughts. “We can’t do everything.”

  Her why-not expression caused him to chuckle. “This is Am—Miss Carroll’s first Christmas in the Village. She should get first pick.”

  The twins eyed each other and for once didn’t pout.

  Amy perused the flyer listing every event. “I say we head for the library first.”

  “Yeah.” Holly clapped her hands. “The library.”

  Ivy’s eyes widened as a grin grew on her face. “Okay, let’s go, and then the hayride.” She grasped Amy’s hand and gave a tug.

  Amy tucked the flier into her bag and fell into step with the girls.

  Mike followed behind, seeing something wonderful happening to the twins. They had been pretty well-behaved in her class since the day they missed the bus, and their obvious affection for Amy couldn’t go without notice. Even though her grandmother hadn’t given her any tips, Amy came by a knack for dealing with the girls naturally. She charmed everyone. Especially him.

  But he couldn’t let his concern drop. If and when she would return to Chicago wavered on his mind as much as Amy’s own indecision. He’d hoped her feelings for them might weigh on her decision, but as yet he hadn’t noticed that happening. The disappointment clung as strong as the flooring adhesive his employer sold.

  He herded the twins and Amy into the car and headed for the library fifteen miles away. When they arrived, the parking lot was filled, and inside, he stood knee-deep in children waiting to see Santa.

  Mike pointed to the far side of the large room. “How about doing your craft first and then meeting Santa?”

  Holly’s gaze lingered on the man in the red suit before she followed Ivy across the room.

  He followed Amy over to the children’s corner where the twins had found a spot at the craft table. “What’s with the cookies?”

  Amy chuckled. “They’re tree ornaments made from a kind of cookie dough. The girls can decorate them.”

  He tried to get a better look at the various cookie-like shapes: gingerbread men, Christmas trees, stars and candlesticks. “I’ll admit these cookie things are new to me.”

  “They’re perfect for an old-fashioned Christmas tree.”

  He cocked his head. “I’m happy to put up a tabletop tree with store-bought ornaments.”

  “Tabletop tree?” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s all you have for the girls?”

  Her look made him feel a little bit guilty. “They’re okay with it.”

  She closed her eyes as she shook her head. “Every child loves a big Christmas tree.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  She lifted her index finger. “This year you’ll put up a full-size tree.”

  His pulse bolted. “I will?” She wasn’t smiling and neither was he. Her face reflected the same determination he often saw on Holly’s face.

  “Don’t you have woods behind your house? We can cut one down.”

  The only thing he liked was the “we” part. “You mean put up a live tree?”

  “A real tree with all the decorations.”

  He hadn’t decorated a big tree since Laura died, yet today the thought of setting up a tree with Amy inspired him to give it serious thought. He shrugged again. “We’ll see.”

  She grinned at him, a determined look on her face, and he had the feeling she wasn’t going to back down. Then it struck him, and his Scrooge attitude fell away. “Did your dad put up a Christmas tree when you were a girl?”

  The grin faded. “Never.”

&
nbsp; Mike’s heart twinged. “So it’s important to you.”

  “It’s important for the twins. They need to know there’s nothing wrong with them. They can have a Christmas tree like everyone else.”

  Like everyone else. The girls’ words flooded his mind. We’re all we got. His excuses fluttered away. “We’ll have a tree.”

  He settled into silence, and as they watched the girls decorate the cookies, his gaze drifted to Amy’s amazing face, her dark hair hanging down her back like Rapunzel, the story-book princess he’d often read about with the girls. He imagined climbing the castle tower to rescue her, clinging to her thick hair. Rescue her? He was the one being rescued by the beautiful princess.

  Holly finished first, an angel with a slightly crooked halo, and Mike glanced at the line for Santa, which continued to grow. He nodded to Amy. She looked at the crowd of children and shrugged. When Ivy finished, Amy was the first to admire her bell with an elaborate bow.

  Mike girded his determination, hoping the twins would see his logic. “If you want to go on the hayride, we should go back to town, otherwise we might miss the last trip.”

  “But what about Santa?” Ivy’s face skewed with her question.

  “Well, I…” He gave a desperate look at Amy.

  She didn’t pick up his plea for a moment, and when he’d about given up, her eyes brightened. “Ivy, here’s an idea. Why don’t you and Holly write letters to Santa and tell him what you’d like for Christmas. That way he won’t forget because he has it written on the paper.”

  “He’ll remember better?” Ivy gazed up at Mike.

  “He sure will. Things in writing are important.”

  Holly agreed, but then she leaned closer and whispered, “I don’t think that’s really Santa anyway. He looks like Mr. Whitman from the pharmacy in a costume.”

  Mike clamped his teeth together, muting his laughter. He couldn’t look at Amy, knowing she’d done the same.

  Holly bounded ahead, and Ivy gave a lingering look at Mr. Whitman before following her sister.

  Slipping to Amy’s side, Mike released a deep breath. “That was close, and thanks for the letter-to-Santa idea.”