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Christmas Gifts: Small Town Christmas\Her Christmas Cowboy (Love Inspired)

By Gail Gaymer Martin, Brenda Minton

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“Now you do understand this is only temporary?”
Amy Carroll jerked her eyes away from the autumn scene outside the window and gazed at the Alcona Elementary School principal. “Yes. I understand, Mrs. Fredericks. My grandmother told me the situation when she called.” Grams seemed to know everything in the small town. “Temporary is fine. I lived in Chicago for five years, and I would miss the hustle and bustle being gone too long. I’d love to be called back, but I don’t expect it to happen.”
“Don’t give up hope. You might be.”
The finality washed over her. “They’ve closed a number of schools in the Chicago area, including Central Elementary where I taught. The children have been bused to another building, so it’s not likely. My only option would be finding a position somewhere outside the city.” The idea hit her. She could commute and still have access to the excitement.
Mrs. Fredericks smacked her hands together. “Whatever happens, this works well for us. You have excellent credentials, and I’m pleased you’ll be joining our staff on Monday to finish out the school year.” She closed the file folder, slipped it into her desk tray and rolled back in her chair. “Welcome to Alcona Elementary.” She rose and extended her hand. “The secretary has what you need—a school calendar, your textbooks and a lesson planning guide. You’ve taught second grade so it’s perfect.”
Amy stood and grasped her hand. “It is, and thanks so much.” She gave a firm shake and stepped toward the door. “I look forward to--”
“Mrs. Fredericks.” The office secretary leaned into the room. “Mr. Russet—you know, the twins’ father—is waiting to see you.”
“The twins. Yes.” A heavy sigh whisked the air as the principal’s shoulders slumped. “You can. . .” She paused and eyed Amy. “Ask him to wait just a moment.”
Amy took another step toward the door, anxious to retreat. No doubt the sigh signaled trouble.
“Please wait a moment, Miss Carroll.”
Amy jerked to a halt.
“The twins will be in your class next week.”
In her class. Whoopee. “Really?” Her reaction sank to a thread of remorse.
She nodded. “It might help you to meet the girls. They have a propensity for getting into trouble. Earlier this week, Holly tripped Ivy while she was jumping rope.”
Holly. Ivy. Amy struggled to keep her eyebrows from arching. “Is this common?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The response sizzled in Amy’s mind. “Was she hurt?”
“Just a scrape. But it’s their typical behavior, and as always, Holly insisted it was an accident.”
“Could it have been?” Giving the child the benefit of the doubt was- -
“Not usually, but I think sometimes Ivy sets up the situation. Almost feeds Holly the ideas. Their teacher hasn’t put her finger on the trouble. Maybe you can.”
Maybe you can. Amy managed to keep her jaw from dropping. The pressure didn’t set well though the comment appeared a compliment. But what if she failed?
“I’d like you to meet them. They’re right across the hall in the cafeteria. It might give you a heads-up for Monday.”
An ominous sensation settled over her. On late night TV a couple years back she’d watched an old black and white film called The Bad Seed. The sweet looking child in the story personified evil, and for some reason, meeting two bad seeds gave her the willies. “I suppose that would be. . .practical.”
“I think it would. Plus you can keep an eye on them while I talk with their father.” She chuckled and motioned her to follow. “Let me introduce you.”
Amy’s reluctant footsteps followed Mrs. Fredericks through the doorway while the bad seed image grew in her mind. Across the hall, she spotted the girls seated on each side of the cafeteria benches, cuter and sweeter looking than her perception. Though not identical twins, their features were similar. Their bright blue eyes, like a Caribbean sea, widened when they saw the principal.
The child with a tawny-colored ponytail swung her legs over the bench. “It wasn’t me, Mrs. Fredericks.”
“Yes, it was.” The blonder twin slipped from her seat, her hair gathered into a ponytail on each side of her head. “Mrs. Fredericks, Holly tore up my drawing in art class.”
“I know. Please sit for a moment.” She gestured to the benches. “I want you to meet someone.”
Their heads turned, and they scrutinized Amy before eyeing each other, a hint of fear quickly covered by determination.
Amy’s heart squeezed.
“Miss Carroll. This young lady is Holly.” She rested her hand on the one with honey brown hair and the deep frown. “And this is Ivy.”
Ivy gazed at her, curiosity written on her face.
Amy wondered if the names fit the girl’s personalities—one prickling, the other clinging. “Hi.” She stepped closer. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Neither responded
Mrs. Fredericks eyed them. “Miss Carroll will be your new teacher on Monday.”
“New teacher?” Holly’s ponytail flipped as she swivelled toward Amy.
Ivy stared at Amy as her eyes widened. “What happened to Mrs. Larch?”
“Remember?” Mrs. Fredericks leaned forward, resting her palms on the table. “She’s expecting a baby soon, so she’s taking a leave.”
Their intent expression flickered as their glances collided. “She told us.” Their responses blended in agreement.
“Good. Now I’ll leave you with Miss Carroll, and you can have a nice talk.” She turned to Amy. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Shortly. The situation wavered in her mind, but she’d been left with little choice, and maybe she could learn something helpful. “That’s fine. Don’t rush.”
Mrs. Fredericks offered a pleasant grin, then strode toward the door. Before she exited she glanced over her shoulder. “When I return, I’ll introduce you to the girl’s father. I’m sure you’d like that.”
“Our dad?” Two voices rang in unison.
Amy wasn’t so sure she was ready to make her first parental contact with an irritated father, but she clenched her teeth and agreed. When she looked at the twins, they were peering at her again, Holly with her arms crossed at her chest and Ivy with one fist jammed into her waist.
Amy pulled her gaze upward, reading the signs written in large black letters that hung above the tables. Citizenship. Responsibility. Apparently, the twins hadn’t read them. She bit the inside of her lip. Every year she’d met children and their parents, but today the meeting seemed more like confrontation.
“Why are you here?”
Holly’s blunt question grabbed Amy’s attention. She held back a grin. That’s the question she’d planned to ask them. Instead she slipped around the end of the bench and sat at the table. Both girl’s scrutinized her before they settled down again, their query still hanging on the air.
“I came to pick up the text books used in your class.” She simplified her response. Getting to know the two seemed more important than showing her authority. Still behind those sweet faces, Amy sensed some kind of unhappiness or hurt dredging up their troublesome behavior. She looked from one girl to the other. “I think the more important question is what are you doing here.” She swung her arm toward the cafeteria serving counter.
Both heads turned in the direction of her arm before Holly responded. “Mrs. Fredericks made us sit here.”
“Hmm?” Amy tapped her finger against her cheek. “I wonder why? It’s not lunch time.”
Ivy bit her lip. “Kids who misbehave have to sit in here and wait.”
Holly’s frown deepened. “I didn’t do anything bad.”
Ivy rested her palms on the table, pressing her face closer to Holly’s, her look searing through her sister. “You tore up my drawing.”
“But you said it wasn’t any good.”
Ivy fell back to her seat. “If I wanted to tear it up, I would have done it.”
“That’s right, Ivy.” Amy focused on Holly, monitoring her tone. “When something belongs to me, I make decisions about what to do with it. No one else.”
Holly turned her head toward the doorway and tightened her ponytail.
Amy didn’t respond to the child’s behavior. “I’d like to know what kind of pictures were you drawing?”
Holly’s head inched back and tilted as if she wasn’t sure Amy really cared.
Hoping to soothe the tension, Amy grinned. “I like to hear about what you do in the classroom since I’ll be your new teacher on Monday.”
Holly’s shoulders relaxed. “We were drawing pictures of Pilgrims and Indians for our social studies.”
“Oh, yes. Because it’s almost Thanksgiving.” Blending learning with fun was good classroom planning.
“Uh-huh, and. . .” A movement by the door caught her attention.
“Daddy.” Both girls shot from the benches and ran to a harried looking man who stood inside the doorway, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.
Amy’s heart gave a twinge. A five o’clock shadow encompassed his lean jaw, his chestnut hair tousled as if he’d run his fingers through it many times. His straight eyebrows stretched above his caramel brown eyes, flashing with emotion. She couldn’t tell if he were ready to blow a cork or just fizzle.
Her question was answered when he released a nervous laugh and rocked on his heels. “You must be Miss Carroll, the new teacher.” He strode toward her. “I’m the girls’ father.” He wiped his hand on his pantleg before extending it to Amy.
Amy met him halfway while the twins hovered at his side. She dropped her palm into his, aware of his warm grip.
“Nice to meet you.” His frustration couldn’t hide behind his pleasant expression.
“Good to meet you, too, Mr. Russet.”
Behind him Mrs. Fredericks watched the scene with seeming interest. “I’ll leave you now. And I’ll see you on Monday, Miss Carroll.” She gave her a wave and vanished.
When she looked back, Amy saw the girls cringe, and her skin prickled. “Your daughters were telling me about their social studies.”
“Social studies? Really?” A grin played on his lips before his gaze dropped to the twins. “You know girls, we have some serious talking to do.”
The twins lowered their eyes, but in them, she saw consternation. Maybe remorse. Whatever it was, the look caught her attention.
When she looked up, their father was studying her with curiosity. “I’m sure we’ve met.”
Amy drew back. “Met? Where?”
“At your grandmother’s. Years ago.”
She did a double-take. “My grandmother’s?”
A crooked smile curved his mouth. “Ellie Carroll. Lake Street. Right?”
“Yes, that’s it.” Amy’s memory gave a tug.
“We live on Lake Street, too.” The twins voices melded together.
“You’re kidding?” But the tug became stronger.
“Not one bit.” His grin widened. “I thought you’d remember. It was maybe eleven years ago.”
Her face knotted as she tired to recall. “I don’t think so.” Yet something shimmered in the shadow of her mind. “I was only eighteen then, Mr. Russet.”
“I was twenty-three, earning money as a handyman while I looked for a job.” He grinned. “Maybe you remember my first name Mike.”
“Mike?” The recollection jarred her, and she feared he’d noticed the look on her face.
“You’re the guy who dug out Grams old shrubbery and planted new ones.” She pictured him in the summer sun, his muscles flexing while his shirt hung on her grandmother’s deer ornament in the tree-sheltered yard.
“The same except a few pounds heavier and some telltale wrinkles.”
Amy studied his face, seeing only a few worry lines. His unruly hair hadn’t changed. She remembered how it ruffled in the breeze, his lean handsome face taut with concentration. They were young then, and she’d flirted with him. But when she went inside, her grandmother notified her he was newly married. Heat rose up Amy’s neck with the recollection. She hoped he didn’t

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