Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  “Miss Carroll.” A child waved her hand from the back of the room. “I have those in my yard.”

  “Once you learn to make these, perhaps your mom will allow you to make more for your tree. I’ll send everyone home with instructions.”

  “Yeah!”

  When she’d finished distributing the paper, the students got up from their seats and gathered around her desk. “First watch me as I make one, and then I’ll let you pick out your packets of glitter and we’ll share the glue. Be careful and don’t get this on your clothing. Okay?”

  They nodded as they gathered around to watch her drizzle the pinecone with glue, letting it drip down the sides and then sprinkle on the glitter. As it dried, she made a bow from the ribbon and attached it to the top with more glue. Finally she used wire to make a tree hook. “Can you do this?”

  Their voices blended in agreement, and they scurried back to their desks to begin.

  Amy walked up and down the rows, handing each child a pinecone. As she moved around the room, she kept track of Holly and Ivy, but her fears ended when she saw them working together as if nothing had happened. Her hope rose and so did her enthusiasm as she observed the children’s excitement.

  Her mind stole back to Sunday when she’d finally gone to church with Grams. But her guilt doubled, seeing her grandmother’s happiness and knowing until that day she’d never gone with her. Church attendance meant everything to her, and it seemed sitting beside Grams, she’d given her a gift.

  The sermon about being ready and prepared for Jesus held meaning, but a young woman’s solo touched her most, a song called “Breath of Heaven” about Mary’s difficult journey to Bethlehem. When she listened to the message of Mary waiting in prayer and wondering if she could carry her burden, Amy’s mind shifted to her own problems and prayers. Mary prayed for strength and understanding, and pleaded with the Lord to stay near her. The same words wrought in Amy’s heart.

  Since Sunday, she’d thought a lot about her faith. She believed in Jesus, but she’d stepped away from Him. She’d turned her back, but the song helped her realize that asking God for help was the only way to deal with her confusion.

  A sound at the door broke her thought. She turned, surprised to see the principal beckoning to her. Her stomach twisted, fearing she would have to defend her art project as part of Social Studies, but the kids were having fun and learning, and Christmas was so close.

  Amy made her way to the doorway and stepped into the hall, leaving the door open so she could check on the children. “Is something wrong?”

  Mrs. Fredericks grinned. “Not with you.” She nodded toward the classroom. “What are they doing?”

  She explained the project before beginning her apology.

  “This is a great idea, Amy. You’re so creative. I noticed how the children are focused and working so well together. Look at Timmy over there helping Duncan. Those two don’t always get along.”

  Amy’s concern fluttered away when the expected reprimand became a compliment. “Thank you, and I’ve been working on getting those two boys more civil.”

  “You’re doing a great job. And with the twins, too.” She eased farther from the door. “I have some news for you. I could have waited to talk with you, but I really wanted you to hear this.”

  Her pulse picked up pace. “What news?”

  “Mrs. Larch’s baby was born premature. They’re both fine, but she’s decided to take more time off from teaching to spend time with the child.” She gave Amy a tender look. “Sometimes priorities change.”

  “They do. I’m sorry to hear about Mrs. Larch.” She studied the principal’s face trying to decide why she’d told her. “I suppose you’d like me to tell the children?”

  “No.” She held up her hand. “Let’s not confuse them. They’ll be moving on to third grade next year and by then it won’t mean so much that she’s not back.”

  “Yes, that makes sense.” But this didn’t make sense until a thread of possibility wove through her mind. Would this mean—?

  “So under the circumstances, I’m offering you the second grade class for next year.”

  “Next year? You mean you’d like me to return in September?”

  “Yes, if you’re willing. You don’t have to answer today if you don’t want to. I’ll give you time to consider the proposal, but you’re doing a tremendous job, and I would be thrilled to have you join the staff.”

  “Don’t you have to get approval for this—”

  Mrs. Fredericks’s flexed hand charged upward again. “Naturally I talked to the superintendent and those who make the decisions in the administrative office. I’ve told them about your work here, and they are pleased with my choice.”

  “Thank you for your confidence.” Dumbfounded by the offer, Amy’s mind lurched with questions. “It sounds wonderful, but I would like to think about it. It will mean finding a permanent place to live.” She was sure her grandmother would invite her to stay, but she needed time to think.

  Mrs. Fredericks’s face darkened. “I’d hoped you’d be eager to say yes, but I understand. Take the time you need.”

  Amy wished she could look happier, but the dilemma spun in her mind.

  “Could you give us an answer after Christmas? That will give you time to make a decision. If you decline, then we can advertise the opening next semester.”

  Touched by her kindness, Amy managed a smile. “I’m pleased you have confidence in me and it’s a wonderful offer. Don’t worry, I’ll make the decision by then.”

  She gave her a thumbs-up. “Good job in there with those kids. I can’t believe how quiet they are.” She turned and headed back down the hallway.

  Amy gazed into the room, thrilled the project had been such a success. But the success took a backseat to her bewilderment. She’d prayed for God to make her path known. Had the Lord answered her already?

  Chapter Nine

  Mike gave the chili a stir and walked to the window. The milder weather had taken a vacation, and a nippy wind returned, rattling the shutters and playing with the shingles. Northern Michigan residents had learned to deal with the hard winters, but could Amy? He knew Chicago was called the Windy City, but it wasn’t the wind but long-winded politicians who gave the city its reputation—at least that’s how the story went.

  Amy had been busy since Christmas In The Village. They’d had a wonderful time that day, he’d thought, but he hadn’t seen her since, and it had turned his brain to mush. He knew better than to open his heart to someone who might not be sticking around. But then he’d learned the heart had a mind of its own.

  Tonight she’d given him hope. She’d called to ask if she could come over and make the Christmas tree ornaments she’d promised the girls. He’d purchased everything she’d asked—whole cranberries, popcorn, construction paper and glue.

  The twins insisted on going outside to search for pinecones. He’d admired the two sparkly ones they’d brought home from school, and he guessed they’d be making more of those. Creativity seemed to be something Amy enjoyed. The only thing he could do was show off his cooking. He’d invited her to dinner. He might not be a top chef, but he’d learned his way around a kitchen.

  His pulse quickened when he heard footsteps on the porch. He headed for the door only to be disillusioned when he saw his daughter.

  Holly hurried in, with Ivy at her heels. “It’s cold out there.”

  “We nearly froze our fingers off.” Ivy held up her hands rosy from the cold.

  “Where are your gloves?”

  “The pinecones are sticky, so we took them off.”

  He studied both girls. “Okay, but where are the pinecones?”

  “We left them out by the tree.” Holly pointed in the direction of the woods. “We need a box to carry them.”

  “After dinner, we’ll go out and get them.” He pointed to the chili pot. “Take off your coats.”

  Another sound caught his attention, and this time he saw Amy waving at him through the wi
ndow. He opened the door and she came in. “I think I’m getting a real taste of northern winter.”

  He hated to tell her this was only the beginning. “You’re just in time for dinner.” He motioned toward the kitchen table. “We’ll eat here if that’s okay.”

  “It’s great. Can I help?”

  “Everything’s taken care of. Have a seat.” He beckoned to the girls. “Wash your hands.”

  They hurried off to the bathroom while he opened the oven and pulled out a pan of cornbread.

  Amy watched him with a look of amusement as he dished up the chili and sliced the cornbread. Later he’d surprise her with his homemade cherry pie.

  In moments, the twins slipped into their chairs and he joined them. He stretched out his arm, and Holly grasped his hand and Ivy’s.

  Amy took a moment before she caught on. She slipped her hand into Ivy’s and then his. They bowed their heads as he said the blessing, his senses coming alive, as he felt her chilly hand resting in his palm. When he released it, she took a moment before lifting her spoon and taking a bite.

  “Great chili, Mike. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, and don’t miss the cornbread. It’s homemade.”

  She dished a square onto the plate, slathered it with butter and tasted it, giving him a thumbs-up.

  Ivy lowered her spoon. “We found some pinecones today.”

  “You did?” Amy swung her gaze from one twin to the other. “Thank you. We need them. I used up all Grams’s for the class.”

  Holly nodded. “We know.”

  The girls quieted, and when Mike offered the pie, Amy declined. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Is later okay?”

  Mike nodded and rose to carry the empty bowls to the sink. Amy followed with the plates and leftover cornbread, and while she rinsed, he loaded the dishwasher. Mike remembered what life was like with a partner. Even mundane chores became a pleasure. He wiped his hand on a dish towel and hung it on the rack. “I need to go outside with the girls to pick up the pinecones.”

  Before he could suggest she wait inside, she headed for her coat. “We can look for a Christmas tree in the woods while we’re out.”

  “To cut today?”

  “Not today. Saturday is good. Hopefully it’ll be warmer.”

  The girls grabbed their coats while he located the box he used to carry the groceries. He slipped on his boots and coat, then returned to the kitchen.

  Carrying the carton, he opened the door, and the twins and Amy filed outside and down the porch steps. The chill hit him as he closed the door, but Amy’s enthusiasm motivated him to face the elements.

  The girls ran ahead toward their stash, and he caught up with Amy. “Haven’t seen you much lately. I’ve missed you.”

  She lowered her head as she walked. “I’ve had some things to take care of, and to be honest, some decisions to make.”

  Decisions? The word left him colder than the weather. Her voice sounded heavy and even uncertain, and though he wanted to ask, he was also afraid to hear her answer. “Can I help?”

  She shook her head. “No, I—” She shrugged. “It’s complicated.” She lifted her face to him. “Can we talk about it another time?”

  “Sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Her voice seemed a whisper. “I’m happy here. I know that, but will I always be?”

  Her question left him disappointed and without a response.

  When she looked at him, her expression had changed. “I don’t want to talk about that now. Let’s get the pinecones.”

  Hearing her unexpected lighthearted tone, he tucked his arm through hers, and they hurried toward the girls. When he dropped the container on the ground, they attacked the pile and tossed in the pinecones.

  Amy moved ahead. “Here’s a bunch.” She beckoned for the box and then moved on again. Once the last cone had been gathered, she stood over the box. “That’s enough, I think.”

  A plan brewed in Mike’s head. “Girls, you run these in and wash the sap off your hands. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  With no argument, they skittered off, toting the box. Mike paused a moment in the dusky light. “You want to see the trees we have?”

  She gazed into the thicker woods. “We spent so much time collecting pinecones, I’m afraid it’s too dark now.”

  He pointed to the full moon. “There’s enough light, I think.” His motivation grew as they headed toward the darkness. Trees were his last concern. Stars splashed across the sky, and the moon shed a pale glow along the path. “Be careful.” He slipped his hand into hers.

  She didn’t resist as they headed into the cluster of fir trees.

  He gathered his thoughts. “Anything going on I should know? Is something wrong?”

  He felt her flinch. “Not wrong.” She stopped and turned to face him. “I think you’d be happy.”

  “Happy?” His pulse escalated. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been offered a permanent teaching position at the school.”

  “What?” He slipped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “That’s wonderful.”

  “It should be.”

  His heart sank at her words. “You’re not excited?”

  “No, I am, but…” She drew back. “I don’t know.”

  He searched her shadowed face. “You don’t know if you can stay here, in a small town.”

  She nodded. “Right now it’s great. It’s sort of like I’m home, but this isn’t my normal lifestyle. Can I be happy without malls where I can shop and theaters where I can see plays?”

  They had places to shop in Oscoda. Not big stores like Chicago, but she would have choices. And stage plays? Alpena had a civic theater, and the high school put on a couple plays each year. “Are those the things that make you happy?”

  “They did, Mike, but now…I’m not sure. I’m so confused.”

  Confused. So was he.

  The moonlight glinted off her cheek, and he spied a rivulet of tears rolling down her face. He felt horrible knowing he’d made her cry with his questions.

  She nestled closer.

  Mike tightened his grip, his heart prodding him to act. He raised his finger and followed the line of her tears to her chin, then tilted it upward and kissed the moisture from her cheeks. As he did, her lips drew nearer, touching his. He drank in the sweetness, and even though the crisp air whisked past, the cold vanished as Amy’s fingers brushed along the nape of his neck. As her tension ebbed away, he drew his lips from hers, having so much to say but remaining silent.

  Amy breathed a lengthy sigh. “So much for the tree.”

  His chuckle followed hers, and before they turned back, Holly’s voice reached them on the wind. “Daddy, where are you? Are we making an old-fashioned Christmas tree or not?”

  When her hand slipped from his neck, he prayed the kiss would help her make her decision.

  The kiss. Amy leaned back against her pillow. She hadn’t been kissed like that for years, not since she’d made her decision that romantic relationships weren’t worth the trouble. The kisses of the past had always seemed empty, emotionless. Not last night. Mike’s kiss filled her with an amazing feeling of connection and awareness.

  Mike understood her. He asked the right questions, his responses soothed her and he made her laugh. They’d known each other such a short time, but it felt like forever. And the girls. Despite Holly’s slip back into her bad behavior tricking Ivy with a false hide-and-seek game, the girls were behaving very well.

  She’d learned what they needed. Love and attention. When she became sidetracked, and she had been distracted that day at school, that’s when they acted badly. Mike needed to give each twin quality time separately.

  When Mike had asked her what made her happy, she’d mentioned shopping and the theater. But when she truly thought about it, those things were just moments in time. They pleased her but they weren’t lasting. Relationships brought
happiness. Mike stood by his promises. She knew it deep in her heart.

  She sat up in bed, threw her legs over the mattress and slipped on her robe. When she opened her bedroom door, the scent of coffee greeted her. Noises from the kitchen told her Grams was cooking. Breakfast or baked goods? When Amy stepped through the doorway, a frying pan of scrambled eggs answered her question.

  Grams turned. “Good. You’re up.” She opened the oven and pulled out a plate of bacon.

  “You’re too good to me.” Amy headed for the coffeepot and poured a cup before sliding onto a chair at the table. She took a sip, letting her thoughts sort themselves. When her grandmother glanced her way, she let one question surface. “Can people change?”

  Her grandmother drew back. “What people?”

  She chuckled. “Me.”

  “In what way?”

  Her shoulder lifted in a shrug.

  Grams placed the bacon on the table and scooped the eggs onto two plates before she answered. “I think change is part of life. Things happen—technology, inventions, values.”

  “Values.” She wrapped her mind around the word.

  “You’re still weighing your decision about the job?” She set a plate in front of Amy and another for herself. “I told you you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. That’s not a problem.” She sank into a chair and bowed her head to say a blessing. When Grams finished the prayer, she opened her eyes and patted Amy’s hand. “But that’s not what’s bothering you.”

  It wasn’t a question. Grams knew what bothered her. “No. It’s getting involved and taking a chance.”

  A grin eased onto Grams’s face. “Taking a chance on love. There’s an old song about that.” She looked off in the distance and started to hum.

  “He kissed me.”

  Her grandmother made a slow turn. “I assume you mean Mike.” Amy nodded.

  “It’s about time.”

  A blush colored Amy’s face. “Grams.” She dug her fork into the eggs.