скачать книгу бесплатно
A muffled okay came from Ivy’s room. Holly’s was silent. She’d probably fallen asleep.
Mike stepped onto the side porch and grabbed his work gloves and rake, then headed down the steps. But instead of tackling his task, he strode across the street, drawn by the lithe woman whose opinion he valued.
When she spotted him, she stopped and leaned on the rake handle. Her hair shone with streaks of dark gold in the afternoon sun, and her cheeks were rosy with the crisp breeze. “So that’s where you live. The blue-and-white house.”
“Not too far away.”
“It’s cute. I admired it when I passed by earlier.”
“Thanks.” He’d never considered the house cute, as she called it, but it motivated him to turn and take another look. “My wife picked the color. She loved blue.”
Amy’s smile faded. “I’m sorry about your loss. Grams told me.”
He suspected Ellie had. He motioned to the lawn to change the subject. “Let me help you.”
She shook her head. “You have your own leaves to take care of. I can—”
“I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help.” He swung out the rake and gave a tug. The debris tangled in the tines, jerking him to a sudden stop. “Does Ellie … does your grandmother have an old sheet or maybe a tarp? We can make fast work of this if she does.”
“A sheet?”
“We’ll rake the leaves onto it and drag the load to the side. Much easier.”
Her eyebrows arched. “That’s a great idea.” She dropped the rake. “Wish I’d thought of that a half hour ago.”
She darted off as he watched her long legs make short work of the distance. A runner. He could picture her jogging down the streets of Chicago, turning heads as she went. The woman definitely turned his. Even though a tinge of guilt swept past him, he didn’t let it sway his thoughts. Laura had been gone three years, and it had been a long time since he’d really looked at another woman.
Amy waved a white cloth at him as she returned. “Grams said to use this.” She tossed it to him as she approached, a grin growing on her face. “Here’s the deal. You help me, and I’ll come over and help you.”
Normally he wouldn’t consider it, but for the first time in years, he felt like a man instead of just a dad. “Deal.”
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?
Chapter Three
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.
“You’re quiet.”
His voice jarred her thoughts and generated guilt, knowing she’d been thinking of him. “Preoccupied, I guess.” She managed a grin and dug into the leaves. “I was thinking about the girls.”
Mike’s head lowered and he combed his fingers through his hair. “I figured you’d be concerned about having them in class.”
“No, that’s not it.” His troubled expression made her wish she hadn’t introduced the topic. “I know you feel compelled to follow the principal’s suggestion to separate them, but …” She stopped raking and leaned her weight against the handle. “I suspect the girls might be worse for it. Not better.”
He slowed the rake and rested his weight against it. “I had the same thought. I picture them at recess and here at home making up for the time separated.” His look grew intense. “But I thought you’d be relieved having only one to deal with.”
“Me?” She pressed her hand against her chest. “No, not yet anyway.” She hoped to lighten the serious mood. Their conversation had drawn his lips into a straight line and stole the sparkle from his eyes. “I watched them with Grams today, and they were respectful to her and each other. I want to figure out what it is that works. I worry if they were in separate classrooms, they wouldn’t learn how to get along or how to show love instead of disrespect to each other. I’d really like a chance to work with them. At least to try.”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She cared about them. “I don’t think Mrs. Fredericks will insist on separating them. I believe she’ll leave the decision up to you.” A new thought fell into her mind. “If I can’t handle them, maybe then she’d put pressure on you to make a decision, but not now.”
His tense shoulders dropped. “If you’re positive.”
Amy wasn’t positive she could make a difference, but she was positive she wanted to try. “Yes, I am.” But Mike’s concern had been for her, and although it touched her, she preferred his focus to be what was best for the girls. Rather than stir up any more tension, she let her thought fade.
He nodded as his rake hit the leaves again.
After making a pile, Mike dragged the bundle to the backyard. Three trips with the tarp made quick work of the leaves, and soon he left the tarp behind and instead dragged the leaves directly to the pile. She longed to sit and talk about a lot of things; his wife’s death, the girls’ reactions then and how they handled it now. Instead she gave another yank of the rake.
When the girls’ squeals vibrated from behind them, she and Mike stopped raking and spun around. The twins darted toward them, but they didn’t stop. Instead they barreled past, aiming for the leaf pile.
Anticipating another disaster, Amy held her breath. But this time, they dived into different sides of the mound and came up laughing. The sight trapped her in memories. The leaves drifted into the air and scattered while her heart followed. Childhood recollections drove her limbs forward, and as she sprang toward the tempting heap, Mike flew past, scooped up leaves and pitched them at her. She grabbed a handful and dashed toward him, but as she’d swung her arm to toss the colorful ammunition, she stumbled.
Mike dived forward and grabbed for her, but he missed. Both of them tumbled into the pile while the girls giggled and tossed leaves their way.
Dazed at her antics, Amy eyed Mike lying beside her, his tousled hair tangled in burnished rubble. Her heart rose to her throat.
Mike bounded to his feet and leaned down to give her his hand. She grasped his and bolted upward into his chest. Standing nose to nose, her heart tumbling to her stomach as she gazed into his eyes.
He gave her a squeeze. “Are you okay?”
His warm breath trembled across her neck. “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. The closeness sent chills racing down her back. She managed a chuckle, trying to ignore the sensation as she brushed the debris from her jacket.
The girls darted from the pile, laughing at their disheveled appearance while pointing at the leaves caught in their dad’s hair.
Mike shook his head, color in his cheeks alerting her of his embarrassment. “Leaves seem to bring out the child in me.”
She gazed down at her jeans and jacket. “Me, too, it appears.” She evaded his eyes and looked at his leaf-entangled hair. She raised her hand and pulled some out, relishing the feel of his thick mane against her fingers.
“Thanks.” His flush subsided as he strode toward Holly. “Let’s get you cleaned off before you drag it inside.”
Amy shifted to Ivy, wanting something to distract her wavering emotions. She pulled leaves from the child’s jacket and plucked them from her ponytails. When she finished, she looked at the girls, their names ringing in her mind. “Ivy and Holly.” The girls turned and looked at her with question. “Where did you get those names?”
“From our mommy and daddy.” Ivy grinned.
“They’re Christmas names.”
Holly slipped between Ivy and Amy, a leaf still caught in her hair. “Our birthday’s on December 24.”
Amy heart clutched. “That makes sense.” She plucked the last leaf from Holly’s hair, then rested her hands on their shoulders. “Did you know there’s a song about holly and ivy?”
Holly shook her head. “Sing it.”
Instead Mike opened his mouth and the music flowed out. “The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown, of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.”
His rich baritone voice enthralled her. “Mike, you have—” “Why does holly wear a crown?” Ivy slammed her fists into her sides.
“It’s the song, Ivy. I didn’t make up the words.” He gestured to Amy. “And apologize to Miss Carroll. She was talking and you interrupted.”
“But—”
“Apologize.”
