He agreed. “We’re heading home from breakfast.”
She gazed at him in silence.
He peered at his boots ankle deep in snow and tucked his hands into his pockets. He’d forgotten his gloves in the car. Tongue-tied, he searched for something to say. Then he noticed she carried a camera. “Taking photos?”
She held it up and nodded. “I want to send a few to some friends in Chicago. They don’t see pristine settings like this very often.”
“Do you live in downtown Chicago?” Mike knew little about her except what Ellie happened to mention. “I did until I lost my job.”
Now he remembered Ellie had told him about her job. “I suppose it was difficult to leave a big city for such a small town.”
A one shoulder shrug was her response. “And leaving your friends.”
“In a way. But I wanted to spend time with Grams, so it seemed a good time to make the change. It is different here.”
Before he could learn more, she walked away, stopping to snap a few photos.
When the girls noticed her camera, they waved. “Take a picture of us.”
Holly dashed for one slide and Ivy for the other. They climbed the snow-covered stairs and plopped onto the wet top before he could stop them. Feeling the cold through his boots, he could only imagine the chill the girls felt sitting on the icy metal. Amy stood between the two slides and snapped one photo then another as they slid to the ground. Their laughter echoed in the quiet. If only his troubles could be whisked away by laughter.
Ivy skipped to Amy followed by Holly, and she let them look at the digital photographs. As he approached, Holly waved him closer. “Look at our picture.”
He tilted the camera and admired the photographs she’d taken. “Very nice.”
“In the city, we have white snow for a few minutes before it turns to gray slush. I want my friends to see how pretty the snow is here.”
Her reference to friends caused him to twinge. Maybe a man waited for her in Chicago.
Ivy nestled in between them. “We’re going to make a snowman when we get home.” She tilted her head, giving him a plea-filled look. “Aren’t we, Daddy?”
Holly eyed him, too, and his frustration waned. “That was our plan.”
To Mike’s discomfort, Ivy pressed the situation. “Want to come over and help?”
Amy rocked from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure your dad needs help.”
Holly jerked his jacket. “You do, don’t you?”
He swallowed. “A really good snowman takes a lot of talented people.”
“Then you can help us, Miss Carroll. You’re talented.”
The uneasy feeling he’d felt earlier vanished when he heard Amy’s chuckle. “How can I say no to such a compliment?”
Her smile thawed his icy thoughts while he basked in summery hopes.
Chapter Five
“I can’t believe they’re still outside.” Mike stood at the window gazing into his front yard watching the twins build a snowdog for the snowman. “They’re doing a good job.”
Amy rose and joined him at the front window. “Very creative, I’d say.”
Even though his eyes were on the girls, his senses were alive with Amy’s closeness. So near, his gaze swept across her flawless skin, her cheeks still highlighted by the crisp cold. Her pink lips smiled, soft and full.
His lungs constricted, forcing his thoughts to cool it. He closed his eyes and sucked in air. “How about some of that hot chocolate the girls talked about?”
“Sounds good.” Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, yet her gaze clung to his, and he knew they were trying to read each other but both seemed unsuccessful.
He strode to the kitchen, needing to do something to keep his mind busy. He turned on the burner beneath the teakettle and opened the cabinet to pull out the mugs.
In seconds, she followed. “Can I help?”
“This is easy.” He lifted the hot chocolate mix and pointed to the label. “Just add hot water.” But then he pointed to an upper cabinet. “You can find the marshmallows, if you want. They’re up there somewhere.”
She found them quicker than he might have and set them on the counter.
“Please, have a seat.” He motioned toward the kitchen table, needing the distance. “The water will take a couple of minutes.”
Amy shifted the chair and sat, watching him.
Silence buzzed in his ears, and he searched through his thoughts for conversation. Seeing her in his kitchen, so fresh and appealing, his tongue had tied again.
“Mike, does it bother you to talk about your wife?”
“Laura?” The question whisked through his mind. “No, not anymore.” He pulled out the chair adjacent to hers and slipped into it. “Why?”
She shrugged, a gentle expression swept over her face. “I think about the girls growing up without a mom, and I.” “You feel bad for them.”
Her eyes searched his face. “No, but I understand. I’ve been there.”
Her comment jarred him. “Really?”
“I lost my mom when I was four.”
The sadness in her eyes flooded over him. “I’m so sorry, Amy. I didn’t know.”
She shrugged again. “Things happen, and we make it through. But I remember longing to be like the other kids and having a mom as they did. My father tried so hard to be both mother and father to me, but …”
A chill prickled down Mike’s arms. He wanted to fill in the blank yet he had no words.
She finally lifted her head and her eyes captured his. “My dad tried too hard, and when he felt helpless, he gave up. I had no idea what to do, and I felt responsible. I was six or seven when I took on the burden of my dad’s failure and his unhappiness.”
Failure. Unhappiness. Six or seven. The words spilled over him, and he suffocated with the weight. Her comment buried him in thought until he managed to take a full breath.
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Maybe.” Her eyes searched his. “I know you’re trying to be a good dad, but a father is all you can be. You can’t be a mother. Not really.” She reached across the space and rested her hand on his. “But that’s okay because you can be the greatest dad. That’s important.”
Overwhelmed, he struggled to grasp her words. “But how?”
“Lose the guilt.”
Memories flooded him—his talks with Laura about having a baby and her desire to wait. Why hadn’t he listened to her? He couldn’t deny his guilt. The talks with Laura were one-sided. He’d bugged her, wanting to be a dad. Wanting to be a family.
Tenderness etched Amy’s face and rent him in two.
“I do feel guilty sometimes, and I know I’ve failed them.”
“Oh, Mike.” Her hand squeezed his. “You’re a great dad. Look at today, with the snowman and out to breakfast. You dote on them, but that’s part of the problem. You can love them, but they need firm directions without you giving in to their pleading. You’re gentle, but you need to be tough. I know that’s difficult for you.”
He gave her a slow nod, understanding fully