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Ivy stared at her shoes. “Sorry.”
Mike ignored Ivy’s lack of sincerity with her apology. “What were you saying?”
“You have an astounding voice.”
He flushed. “It’s been years. I don’t sing anymore.”
“But you should.”
His expression darkened for a moment before he found a grin. “Did you ever try to sing with two seven-year-olds under foot?”
Holly shook her head. “We’re not under your feet.”
He chuckled. “No, but you talk a lot.”
Ivy gave Amy’s jacket a tug. “Daddy plays the guitar, too.”
Amy’s senses twinged again. “Really?”
“Guilty as charged, but like singing, I …” He shrugged. “I haven’t touched the guitar in a long time.”
Ivy shook her head. “Sometimes at night when you think we’re sleeping, we hear you.”
He gazed at them for a moment. “You know it’s not necessary to tell everything about me, right?” He raked his hair with his fingers
“How come you don’t ever sing for us, Daddy?”
He gazed at Holly, and Amy noticed a somber look sneak to his face. “I will.” He drew her closer and then reached for Ivy. “And I’ll tell you later the story about the holly and ivy so you understand why the holly wears the crown, okay?”
The twins faces glowed.
Hope slid through Amy’s veins. Somewhere inside the two children lived joy, and if she could find the secret to what else was going on, maybe the troublesome two could become the treasured twins.
Her task settled in her mind. She’d do everything in her power to keep those girls in her class.
Mike watched Amy cross the street, her rake like a shepherd’s crook. He shuffled the girls inside wondering how he could ever explain where his heart had been for so long. Holly’s blunt question about his singing had stirred up his emotions, as did Amy’s compliment. You have an astounding voice. The words could have been Laura’s. But she’d gone to heaven, and even though he didn’t understand why the Lord wanted her, God saw the big picture. He didn’t. She’d been the motor that revved his love of singing.
Learning the girls had heard him playing the guitar served the same purpose. And Amy, too. His heart constricted. Her caring smile hovered in his mind like a melody. Just as Amy lingered in his thoughts, music couldn’t be forgotten either. It revived his spirit. Amy’s presence had done the same.
“You said you’d tell us, Daddy.”
Ivy’s voice broke his train of thought. He gazed at her sweet face and knelt on the kitchen floor, drawing the two girls into his arms. “Your mom always nagged me about singing and playing the guitar. Because she’s not here, I guess it left my thoughts.”
“Did Mom leave your thoughts?”
Holly’s troubled expression caused him dismay. “Never. I promised God to love her always, and I will, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have lots of love to share.”
“With us?”
“With you.” He paused, trying to word his next statement. “And maybe someday, I might meet someone who could be in our lives, too.”
“Like Amy?”
Ivy’s question tripped through his veins. “Someone like that. Someone who’s nice and likes both of you.”
Holly’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe Miss Carroll doesn’t like us?”
“I think she does, don’t you, Daddy?” Ivy’s response gave his answer. “Yes. She wants to keep you together in class.”
“She does?” Their eyes widened.
“Unless you cause her trouble, and then she won’t want to deal with your antics.”
Holly scrutinized him again. “What’s antics?” “Your behavior. You know, how you act up sometimes.” Ivy gave her a poke. “Like choking me.” “Or tripping me.”
“You both do things to each other. I know you still love each other, but sometimes it doesn’t seem that way to other people.” He drew the girls in closer. “Remember what you said the other day? You told me you were all you had?”
They nodded. “You need to let people see how much you mean to each other. Hurting each other and misbehaving isn’t the way to do that.”
Ivy straightened. “It’s Holly’s fault.”
He tightened his grip before a new argument began. “It’s both of your faults. And that’s enough about it. I don’t want to hear another word.”
They quieted, but he suspected each girl was working on a comeback. “Now, I’ll hand you a rake, Ivy, and I’ll get another one for Holly. Because you two were the first ones to spread the leaf pile, it’s your job to clean it up.”
“But—”
Without listening further, he handed Ivy the rake and headed to his shed. He didn’t turn around until he arrived at the storage unit and pulled out the rake. When he looked back, Holly had gotten on her knees and was dragging the leaves into the pile with her arms. Elation rippled over him. He loved seeing the girls work or play without arguing. Diving into the leaves had brightened everyone’s spirits. He hadn’t felt like that in years.
“Here you go.” He handed Holly the rake, then relieved Ivy of hers.
She didn’t argue but followed Holly’s example and tossed the leaves back into the pile. “Can we burn them?” She gazed up at him with a smile in her eyes.
“Maybe later tonight.”
“Can we make s’mores?”
He chuckled. “Not over the leaves, Holly, but maybe we can make some inside.”
Ivy licked her lips. “Can we invite Miss Carroll? I bet she likes s’mores.”
His chest tightened. “Not tonight.” He looked across the yard to Ellie’s house, wanting to include Amy in everything but cautioning himself to move slowly. To be certain. To understand his feelings and the ramifications.
He started preparing their dinner, but his mind dwelt on Amy and the delicate situation. He really liked her, but it unsettled him. Having feelings for a woman other than Laura dragged him back to his dating days. But when he’d met Laura, his interest for any other woman had faded.
After all those years, he wasn’t sure he could handle another relationship without feeling guilty. And what about the girls? Would familiarity with Amy make them too forward in school? That would never work. He pondered the idea for a moment before making a decisive decision.
He had to cool it.
Chapter Four
Amy erased the blackboard and eyed the clock. She’d noticed buses arriving, and soon the halls would be quiet. Her first day on the job had been exciting. After her layoff in Chicago, teaching again so soon had seemed a hopeless dream. Yet here she was. She settled into her desk chair and breathed in the scent of chalk, floor polish and the beguiling scent of textbooks. She grinned.
When she gazed at the empty rows of chairs, she had pictured the twins sitting close together, eyeing each other while temptation crooked a finger, but they’d been perfect. But Amy faced reality. Thinking the girls would remain perfect was definitely a lofty goal.
Grams had a way with Ivy and Holly, but her only recommendation to Amy was to love them. She heaved a sigh. Mike loved them, but that didn’t work for him.
The sound of quiet echoed in the halls—the hum of fluorescent lighting and the yawn of a distant door. She eyed the stack of papers on her desk and drew them toward her, wanting to grade them by tomorrow. She’d asked the children to write a paragraph on how they would spend Thanksgiving.
Hearing how they would celebrate the holiday could give her an inside look at their families and their traditions. Coming into the semester late meant she needed a quick way to gain insight into her students’ lives. “Miss Carroll.”
Amy jerked at the familiar voice. She eyed her watch. “Ivy, shouldn’t you be on the bus?”
Holly slipped past her sister into the room. “We missed it.”
“Missed it?” She studied both of the girls. “How did you do that?”
“Ivy went to the bathroom.”
Ivy strutted forward shaking her head at Holly. “Uh-uh. You went and I followed.”
Now what? She studied their faces, aware of what they expected. “Maybe there’s another bus going your way. Let’s go down to the office.”
“There’s not.” The too-familiar determined look settled on Holly’s face.
She ignored her. “We need to check.” She rose and strode through the doorway, hearing two sets of footsteps behind her.
When she entered the front office, Sue Murphy, the secretary, arched an eyebrow. “What are you two doing here?” “We missed the bus, because Ivy—”
“Uh-uh. It was Holly’s fault.”
“The last bus left. I’ll have to notify your driver so he doesn’t worry and then call your dad.” Sue braced her hands against the counter. “He’s not going to be very happy.”
Ivy bustled closer. “You don’t have to call our dad.”
Holly shouldered her sister out of the way. “We can ride home with Miss Carroll. She lives on our street.”
The woman peered at her. “Are you okay with this?”
She bit her lip. This was what she feared—the girls becoming too familiar and taking advantage. “Would you check with their father first?” “Certainly.”
Amy studied the twins’ eager faces, and thought of Mike being dragged home from work again. The girls often went to her grandmother’s anyway or a sitter came in until Mike arrived home. She evaded the twins’ pleading looks and focused on Sue’s telephone conversation. Watching the secretary’s head nod gave Amy her answer. Mike had agreed.
When the girls learned he’d agreed she drive them home, their faces brightened. Amy’s didn’t. Her plan to work on tomorrow’s lessons at her school desk ended with the new development.
She strode back to her room, slipped on her coat, gathered the homework papers and her planning book and then herded the twins outside. Once in the car, she faced them in the backseat. “You can’t do this everyday, girls. Some days I need to stay here and work. I’m sure you’d rather be home with a sitter or with Gramma Ellie.”
Restrained by the seat belts, Holly leaned as close as she could. “We could help you.”
Ivy nodded in agreement.
Amy started the car. “Not when I’m planning lessons and correcting papers,” Amy said. “But we could—”
“That won’t work.” Amy used her teacher’s voice. “Next time I’ll have Mrs. Murphy call your dad to pick you up.”
Ivy’s face sank. “He’ll be mad.”
“Right.” She backed her car out of the spot.
The fifteen-minute ride home remained restrained except for a few comments the girls made to each other. Amy wished she could hear because she suspected they were plotting. When she pulled into the driveway, the two tumbled out and darted to Grams’s side door. She sat a moment, determined to come up with a way to discourage their ploy from happening again.
When she stepped inside the house, voices came from the kitchen, and as she passed the door, she gave her grandmother a wave and went directly to her room. She tossed her coat on a chair and slipped off her shoes, settling her feet into her fuzzy slippers. The weather had turned cold since they’d raked on Saturday. That evening, she’d watched Mike burning leaves, and she’d longed to wander over but forced herself to stay away. And although she considered her decision wise, especially after the girls’ shenanigans today, part of her hoped that Mike would invite her over to sit with him as he monitored the fire.
She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize her teaching position or allow her heart to tangle around a widowed man and his daughters. That could easily lead to heartbreak. Plus she was certain she wouldn’t live forever in a small town. Chicago’s excitement lured her back.
Amy pulled on a sweatshirt before settling on the bed. She leaned forward and grasped the stack of papers she’d brought home. She read the first child’s paragraph relating how the family watched football on TV and he listed the Thanksgiving dinner menu. While she made a note of spelling errors, her curiosity led her to search for the twins’ papers in the pile.
Skimming Holly’s paper, her heart sank.
“Daddy takes us to Mama’s Country Kitchin for diner on Thanksgiving. Daddy says a prayer, and we say what we give thanks for. Then we have turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. Then we have punkin pie.”
A restaurant for Thanksgiving? Her throat tightened as her eyes flashed across Ivy’s paper. Better spelling didn’t brighten the message.
“On Thanksgiving, Daddy takes us out to eat, but what I wish is that we could eat at home. We did when our mom was alive. Now Thanksgiving is different. But I am happy that I have a dad who loves me. We say thank you for all good things before we eat.”
Amy brushed tears from her eyes, trying to hold back a flood of them. Her own childhood memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases came to mind, when she, too, ached for a mother in her life. As she grew older, she’d tried to concentrate on the positives in her life, but the old haunting ache remained just as it had surfaced today.
Determination pried its way into her mind. Even though she’d been set on keeping her distance with the twins, how could she when Mike and the girls ate Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant?
Before Amy had moved to Harrisville, her grandmother often spent holiday meals with church friends, but Grams had announced this year they would celebrate at home. The glint in her grandmother’s eye made Amy realize Grams had been lonely for family. So had she for all the years living in Illinois, first with only her father and later alone in an apartment.
The papers slipped from her fingers, and Amy leaned back against the pillow, fighting heavy eyes and a heavy heart. She lowered her lids for a moment, thinking a couple minutes’ rest might refresh her after the first day of her new job.
The scent of cookies drifted into her room, and Amy bolted upward, eyeing the clock. She’d slept for over an hour. Voices penetrated her bedroom door, including a man’s voice.
Mike.
She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and sat up. As she did, some of the papers fluttered to the floor. She rose, gathered them and tossed them on the bed. Then eyeing herself in the vanity mirror, she grabbed a comb and ran her hands through the tangles, then headed for the door.
As her hand hit the knob, a surge of apprehension swept over her as she considered talking with Grams about Mike and the girls. No one should eat Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant. Yet she pushed the idea out of her mind for the moment and opened the door. She needed distance, or she’d face the ramifications at school.
“There you are.” Grams gave her a welcoming smile.
“I smelled the cookies.” She looked at Mike. “I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”
A crooked smile lit his face. “I like your footwear.”
She looked down at her fuzzy slippers, and her cheeks heated.
