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
