Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  “Holly’s one of a kind. You know that, right? And you’re welcome.” She tucked her arm in his. “The ornaments gave me an idea. I think I’ll teach the kids in my class about old-fashioned Christmases.”

  Her face glowed, and he wished he could be in her class to learn just about anything.

  The hay wagon horses stomped their feet against the hard ground, and Amy shivered with the cold. She wanted to go shopping, but the girls had their hearts set on the hayride. She couldn’t disappoint them. Mike had grabbed a blanket from his car as they headed inside the Arts Council building, which smelled of cider and sugar cookies. Although the hot drink warmed her and the cookies were a hit with Mike and his daughters, they marched into the chilly weather to get in line too soon.

  Waiting for her turn to climb on the wagon, she eyed the handsome team of horses, roan-colored with flowing white manes. The cowboy helping the crowd onto the wagon took his time, and finally when they reached the portable steps, the girls scampered up first before Mike helped her onto the wagon bed. She settled on the rough hay and braced herself for the ride. Wondering about the girls, she craned her neck and saw them leaning over the railing, and as the horses moved ahead, an urge grew. “Save my spot. I want to check on the girls.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a curious grin as she leaned on him to rise.

  She worked her way around feet and bodies until she reached the twins, and when they noticed her, surprise lit their faces.

  “We can see the horses from here.” Holly’s eyes glistened.

  She gazed at the team. “They’re pretty.” Her intent moved her to slip her arm around their shoulders. “I want to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed being with you today. You’ve been really good, and I like that.”

  A smile slipped to their faces. Ivy lifted her arm and touched Amy’s hand. “We like you with us.”

  Her pulse skipped. “You do?”

  Holly nodded. “It’s like having a mom.”

  Amy’s chest constricted, and her heart melted. “Can I tell you a story about me?”

  “When you were a girl?” Holly’s eager face mirrored Ivy’s.

  “I didn’t have a mom either when I grew up. She went away when I was four, and she died a year ago. So I know what it’s like not having a mom.”

  Holly shifted closer. “Do you still remember her?”

  Amy’s answer wavered in her mind. “She’s still in my heart and thoughts.”

  “I remember my mom, too, but sometimes I forget what she looked like.”

  Ivy’s confession rent her heart.

  Holly nestled closer to Amy’s side. “I try to remember her really hard.”

  “You will always remember. Moms are always in our hearts.”

  Relief swept over their faces.

  Amy gave them a quick hug, then asked, “Will you be very careful here if you stay by the railing?”

  They nodded.

  “Okay. Your dad and I are over there.” She pointed to where Mike was seated. He saw them and waved back. “Hang on tight.” She maneuvered through the others to return to Mike. She grasped his shoulder. “The girls promised to be careful.”

  He grinned and helped her down, this time drawing her back against his chest.

  Warm and comfortable, she savored the moment. The clop of hooves echoed on the road to the state park, and the breeze turned colder sending a chill through her even with the warmth of the blanket spread over her lap.

  Mike slipped his arms around her. “Is this better?”

  Although her indecision about the future nipped at her, Mike’s nearness warmed her. “Much. Thanks.”

  He leaned closer, his cheek resting against her hair. “You keep me warm, too.”

  A Bible verse nudged its way from the recesses of her mind. Two are better than one… The specific wording failed her but another line expressed that two can keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? Today the question became real. Was that the completeness that Grams had talked about?

  Weighted with thought, only the hum of nearby conversations and the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves broke the quiet until someone in the crowd began to sing “Jingle Bells.” The music drew her from her darker thoughts, and her spirit lifted when Mike’s voice blended in song. She admired his full baritone voice.

  She rarely sang, but she joined in. Mike gave her a squeeze and leaned over to send her a smile, and she was filled with contentment.

  When the last verse ended, Mike broke into “Deck the Halls.” Others chimed in, some in harmony, while others clapped in rhythm. Her heart soared. Today she knew what Grams meant when she talked about fullness. An ethereal sensation wove through her body and sent her to a place she had never known.

  After the second verse, Mike ended the song, and before another began, Amy tilted her head to see his face. “You make me happy.”

  His eyes glinted. “I’m glad.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

  The warm touch sent a flurry of heartbeats skittering through her chest. The scent of hay, the sweet cookies, the brisk breeze, the music and the tender kiss permeated her senses. The warmth lingered as the horses slowed and returned to the Harrisville Arts Council building, though her mind kept returning to the girls’ question: Do you still remember your mother?

  When she got off the wagon, Holly and Ivy chattered about the ride but made it clear they were eager to get home.

  Mike sent Ivy a questioning look. “Why are you so anxious to leave?”

  She leaned against his hip. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too.” Holly stood back, a determined look growing on her face. “And we don’t want to go shopping.”

  Amy couldn’t stop laughing. “So that’s the problem.” Even though Mike’s face darkened, she signaled him to say nothing. “Let’s see if they can stay with Grams for a little while. Would that be fun?”

  The girls agreed but Mike only shrugged. “If you think she won’t mind.”

  “She’ll love it.” She pulled out her cell phone, knowing Grams would say yes, and she and Mike could shop without interruption.

  Mike stood back and observed Amy’s profile as she made a purchase at one of the booths in Maria Hall. No matter how many times he tried to understand why she’d remained single, nothing made sense. Everything about her attracted him—her hair, her bright eyes, her lithe figure. And best of all, she had an innate wisdom and admirable sensitivity and compassion for others. Beauty and brains.

  Amy turned from the booth and sent him a teasing grin. “I’ve never seen so many handcrafted items in my life. I love it.” She rubbed her shoulder against his. “But you’re bored.”

  He loved spending time with her. But not shopping. “I’m not bored. I’m hungry.” He motioned to the food area. “They serve lunch here if you want to take a break.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She slipped beside him, and he linked his arm through hers as they headed toward the scent of hot dogs.

  With their snack on a tray, he steered her toward a table. Once seated, he dug into the food, but Amy seemed more excited about her purchases.

  She delved into one of her bags and brought out a pinecone ornament. “See this?”

  He nodded.

  “Here’s my idea. I know how to make these, and Grams has a basket of pinecones she’s saved. We can teach the girls how to make ornaments, and they can have an old-fashioned Christmas tree. I’m going to do this with my class, too.” She grinned at him. “It’ll be fun.”

  Her exuberance tickled him. “It sounds great except the part where you said we. I have no idea how to make anything like that.”

  “I’ll teach you.” She shifted her hand close to his and pressed it. “I think the girls will feel proud to help, and when they do something positive, it’s a great time to compliment them.” Her face grew serious. “Did you ever think about this? Kids misbehave when they don’t get enough positive attention. So they’ve learned that being naughty gets them noticed.”

  He thought abou
t how he reacted to the girls. “You always have the answers.” But for some reason his hot dog sat in his stomach like a rock.

  Amy became thoughtful, and he waited. “If you don’t mind more ideas, I have another one.”

  Her sidelong glance made him nervous, but he opted to listen. “Sure.”

  “The girls said something on the hayride that bothered me a lot. They miss their mother, and their greatest fear is that they’ll forget what she looked like.”

  Her comment struck a sore spot. “How did this come up?”

  “They told me today that when I was with them, they felt like they had a mom again.” As she explained their conversation to Mike, her voice began to tremble.

  “I saw some picture frames at Maggie’s On Main when we were in there, and I think that would be a great gift for their birthday. You could give them a photograph of their mom.”

  He lowered his eyes, frustrated by his lack of awareness. “The other day they asked me if I still thought of Laura, and later I thought about the photos of her I’d tucked away and hadn’t the courage to look at. I’ve cheated the girls, haven’t I?” He found the strength to lift his head and look at Amy.

  “Not cheated. Not at all. You didn’t throw them away as my dad did.” Her gaze captured his. “You can still fix it.”

  He forced a smile and agreed, but in his heart, Mike wondered if he truly could.

  Chapter Eight

  Amy sat in her room, gazing at her purchases and thinking about her conversation with Mike. She suspected she’d hurt his feelings and now felt badly about it. Another thing had dawned on her. She loved his daughters far more than she should. Their loss brought back hers, the old ache she’d lived with ever since she could remember. When she thought of Mike and the photos, she was grateful he hadn’t closed off the girls to their mother the way her father had done.

  The wagon ride flashed through her mind—and the kiss—and she relived her confusing emotions. If she had any plans to leave Harrisville, she had to distance herself from them, but when she considered it, she felt empty. Her mind wrestled with her heart. Somewhere inside her lay the truth, and she needed to find it.

  The Bible verse “Two are better than one” jogged her mind again. That was how she’d felt since she met Mike—the kind of completeness that Grams talked about. She dug into one of the bags and drew out a full apron and matching potholders. Her grandmother would love it when the gift came from the twins. Grams spent so much time in the kitchen with them, teaching them to cook. Her, too. The memory eased her tension.

  She grasped the pinecone ornament and opened her bedroom door. Instead of the kitchen, for once Grams sat in an easy chair in the living room flipping through a magazine. “Look what I bought.” She held up the decoration.

  Grams nodded. “It’s pretty. Some people can do a lot with a pinecone.”

  “You have a basket of them in the garage. Can I use them?” She held her breath.

  “Why not? We used to toss them into the fireplace as kindling, but I rarely use the fireplace anymore.” A sadness slipped Grams, then vanished.

  Tenderness and concern for her rose up in Amy. “You’re thinking of Gramps?”

  She nodded, an easy smile returning to her lips. “I always do this time of year.” She shifted forward in the chair and pushed herself up. “That reminds me of something.” She held up her index finger and shuffled from the room.

  Amy’s curiosity grew as she sank into Gramps’ old recliner.

  When her grandmother returned, she held papers in her hand. “The girls mentioned they didn’t talk with Santa today and asked if they could write him a letter. I guess you suggested it?”

  She nodded. “I did. The line was too long, and we would have missed the hayride.” Amy recalled Mike’s closeness and their kiss.

  Grams handed her the letters. “I think you should read them.”

  Amy studied Grams’s face as she clasped the paper. She gazed at the first letter and read the words, her heart in her throat.

  Dear Santa, My daddy isn’t happy and neither are me and Holly. So I want a mom for our family. If you’d let me pick her out, I would pick Miss Carroll, my second grade teacher.

  Love, Ivy Russet

  Holly’s letter was pretty much identical to Ivy’s.

  Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She lifted her gaze to her grandmother and drew a ragged breath. “This breaks my heart.”

  Grams only nodded, tears evident in her eyes as well. “That’s what I said to you the other day. These little girls feel your love, and they’ll be heartbroken if you leave.”

  “I didn’t mean this to happen, Grams. I…” Amy covered her face with her hands and let the tears flow.

  Her grandmother shuffled closer and patted her back. “God has a way, Amy. Put it in His hands. But just be careful of their little hearts.” She released a sigh. “And Mike’s, too.”

  The more her grandmother said, the more she ached for Mike and the twins. It wasn’t pity, but something far deeper. Something inside her, too. Prayer was always Grams’s answer, and if anyone knew the Lord, it was her grandmother. “I’ll pray, Grams. I’m up to my neck in their lives. I’ll think of something.”

  “With God’s help, you will.”

  Amy handed the girls’ letters back to her.

  Grams tucked them in her apron pocket. “I thought I’d give these to Mike, but after I read them, I wasn’t sure…”

  “Right. Please don’t.” Concern rolled through her.

  “Trust me, child. I don’t want to do any more damage than there already is.”

  Damage. The word pierced her. She’d never thought of her time with Mike and the girls as damage. “I don’t know what to do. The girls are in my class, so I see them every day, and they live so close.” She massaged her forehead between her eyes. “I’ve promised to help with their Christmas tree, too.”

  “You have a responsibility now. Let your heart and God’s leading be your guide.”

  Her stomach knotted. She cared about the girls. She found Mike to be the image of the perfect husband, but God’s leading? Prayer? This time she needed to listen to her grandmother.

  “I have something that might help you.” Grams scuffed out of the room, her slippers making a swishing noise on the carpet. She soon returned with a small booklet in her hand. “My daily devotion.” She waved the tract in the air. “Listen to this. It struck me that it has meaning for you.” She opened the folder. “It’s from Acts 2:28. ‘You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.’” She lifted her head and searched Amy’s face.

  “I don’t know my paths of life, Grams. I have to figure them out.” She’d expected a sensible solution, something she could do that would make a difference.

  “But you will when you listen to Him. And what about the joy? What brought you joy in Chicago? Think about that, child. What brings you joy now? Here?”

  Grams’s questions knocked Amy flat. She fell back against the recliner. Joy in Chicago? Her job teaching. Her friends. Joy in Harrisville? Her job teaching, yes, but other things gave her greater joy. Watching the twins’ behavior improve. Hearing them giggle. Hearing Mike sing. Seeing his smile. Enjoying the kiss they’d shared. Feeling complete. The realization stunned her.

  “Dear Lord, am I hearing You, or is it my own crazy thoughts?” She looked up to heaven and prayed.

  Amy looked out the window at the sunshine and the snowless ground. In good weather, recess gave her time to prepare for the next lesson, and today, she looked forward to their social studies class. She’d added an art project, because today the class would bring to life what they’d been learning about Christmas in the past—Victorian times, and the Great Depression in the 1930s when money was low but creativity was high.

  The bell rang, and she geared herself for the onslaught of students. Noises resounded in the hall as they hung up their heavy coats. The seats began to fill with eager seven-year-olds, eyei
ng the equipment she had stacked on her desk, but Holly and Ivy hadn’t appeared yet. Her concern rose, then dissipated when Ivy charged into the room, her face marred by a frown. Holly ambled in behind her and sat in her seat.

  Ivy slowed when she reached her desk. She leaned over and whispered, “Holly did a bad thing.”

  “What was it?”

  “She told me some of the girls were playing hide and seek, and I was It.” She glanced over her shoulder at Holly, whose face now carried a similar frown.

  “And?”

  “But no one came to find me. I waited and waited, and then a third-grader told me no one was looking for me. Holly was playing tag with some of the girls.”

  Amy’s chest constricted as she beckoned to Holly, who took her time to join Ivy at her desk. “I’m very disappointed.”

  Holly’s frown sank to feigned innocence. “Why?”

  “I’ve been so proud of both of you getting along so well, and now look what happened.”

  Holly elbowed Ivy. “It was a joke.”

  Ivy poked her back. “Not very funny.”

  Amy slipped between them and knelt. “It’s only funny when both people are laughing. Is Ivy laughing?”

  Holly gave her a look and shook her head.

  “Holly, please say you’re sorry because I love being proud of you.”

  Holly seemed to think it over a moment before her face displayed her defeat. “I’m sorry.”

  Amy’s heart jolted when she gave Ivy a hug, though her disappointment at the setback remained. “Thank you. Now get to your seats because we’re having a fun project today.”

  Both of them scrutinized her desk before settling into their seats.

  Amy walked around the classroom with a stack of old newspapers and slipped one on each desk. “We’ve been learning about old-fashioned Christmases, and today, we’re going to make an old-fashioned tree ornament.”

  The room buzzed with the children’s excitement as they craned their necks to see what else she had in store for them.

  “Everyone will cover the desk with newspaper. I have a few bottles of craft glue that we have to share, some ribbon and a pinecone for everyone.” She held one up. “You see these all over the ground under the evergreen trees.”