Brenda Minton - Christmas Gifts - Small Town Christmas / Her Christmas Cowboy

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?

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.