Ain’t Misbehaving

go.

It was Mitch’s feelings that increasingly concerned her. How many times had she said it to the ninth graders? First sexual feelings are incredibly powerful. But they aren’t necessarily love.

That shimmer of doubt kept edging up into her consciousness. Mitch hadn’t played before. Naturally, his feelings were running pretty strong and pretty sure-but just as naturally, they could be entirely sexual. When the fireworks simmered down, maybe he was going to wish he had a few more notches on his belt.

Who was kidding whom? She was a perky lady with big eyes and a nice figure…and she’d had the sense-and the bullheadedness-to coax him out of his shell. But she was hardly a femme fatale. With a little more confidence who was to say he couldn’t at least look around for a lady who was less rosy and more voluptuous and who could grow plants? That he’d get the invitations she had no doubt.

Since the weekend, she’d been trying to give him space. For weeks, they’d been seeing each other almost daily, and Kay couldn’t have felt worse, thinking up excuses why she was suddenly busy every day of the past week. On Wednesday, he hadn’t listened; he’d barged in with that huge crazy Christmas tree… They’d laughed so much…

And she’d sent him home alone, truthfully the last thing she wanted to do. But Mitch had to be sure of his feelings for her. A woman felt something special for her first lover; there was no reason why a man should feel any differently. That first introduction to sexual pleasures could overwhelm a relationship, and that was exactly what she was afraid was happening with Mitch. If she could talk to him…but Mitch was long on male pride, and his lack of experience was something he clearly hadn’t wanted her to be aware of.

Talking wasn’t the problem anyway. Time was. Time out of bed. Time for Mitch to see exactly what they had apart from sexual chemistry.

Time, Kay thought glumly. It sounded good, but after only a week without him, she was miserable. What if he used that time to look around and try his new wings on the rest of the female population?

***

Rhoda took one look at Mitch and burst into peals of laughter. “Merry Christmas, Santa!”

Mitch scowled. “Just tell me where I can get out of this outfit before I turn into a furnace.”

“Mitch, it’s adorable,” Rhoda protested teasingly.

Mitch glanced around the corridor and then pulled out the pillow that was padding his stomach. Dots of moisture beaded his forehead from the heat of the Santa suit. Kay had talked him into the charade…and truth to tell, he’d enjoyed every minute of it. Kay had wrapped the dozens of presents and put them in a huge sack. She’d also pasted on the cotton fluff that was itching his chin like poison ivy. It really wasn’t a nice thing to do to a man at five o’clock in the morning.

And now it was nine, and parents were starting to flood into the hospital. Kay and Mitch had thought about those first lonely hours when the children were awake and no one was there, when memories of other Christmases weighed down on them, when they pictured their siblings tearing the wrapping paper off presents around the tree at dawn…that was the hour Santa had decided to visit the hospital this year. And Mitch had the terrible feeling Kay was going to talk him into doing it next Christmas as well.

“I’ve lost Mrs. Claus,” Mitch growled to Rhoda.

“She’s in the nursery.” Rhoda’s eyes couldn’t stop teasing.

“I’ve also lost my clothes.”

“You know, just watching the two of you this year was almost worth having to work over the holidays.” Rhoda motioned to the supply room near the nurses’ station. “Kay stuck your clothes back there, if you really have to change.” Her eyes flicked past him and then widened. “Mitch,” she whispered.

Mitch pivoted around, to see a little boy trying to maneuver himself down the hall in a wheelchair. His eyes were like black diamonds, staring at Mitch. Mitch’s features softened; he wielded his all-but-empty sack in front of his now-too-flat stomach, and let out a brisk “ho-ho-ho” as he sauntered off, hot as an oven, to spread a little more Christmas cheer.

***

An hour later he wandered toward the nursery, feeling infinitely cooler in a simple pair of navy flannel slacks and red shirt. He’d conned Rhoda into letting him steal fifteen minutes in the nurses’ shower, and his hair was still slightly damp…just as his cheeks were still a rather flaming red from the removal of his beard glue.

He passed room after room, occasionally hearing a little voice breathlessly relating to parents how Santa had already been there that morning, but beyond a vague smile, he paid no attention. At the moment, claiming Kay was the only thing on his mind.

Huge glass windows encased the soundproof nursery. A dozen cribs were lined up in the center of the room, only four of them in use. One red-faced urchin was screaming its tiny head off, and two others were swaddled white bundles of sleeping bliss.

The fourth baby was in Kay’s arms. Mitch paused, staring at her through the glass. The last time he’d seen her she’d been dressed as Mrs. Claus-white wig, rotund tummy and all. Her face had been animated and full of laughter; she’d been tossing up ribbons and silver paper and gleefully making a terrible mess for the hospital staff to clean up.

At the moment, there were tears in her eyes that wrenched his heart. She’d changed to a scarlet dress, and her hair was a smooth taffy curtain. A diaper was draped over her shoulder and she was rocking her precious burden.

She glanced up and caught sight of him, her smile as instant as the rapid blinking of her eyes. He went through the steel door into the tiny anteroom with masks and gowns, and then pushed open the second steel door.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a gown on?” he whispered.

“Not on Christmas,” Kay chided, which truly had no rational basis whatsoever in terms of hospital policy.

He moved forward when she motioned him closer. He couldn’t see much of the little one she held in her arms. Just an extremely wrinkled red face and a tuft of a black curl at the top of his head. Bleary blue eyes focused haphazardly in his direction, and then closed again.

“Someone left him,” Kay hissed. “Just left him. And on Christmas!”

He could barely hear her over the caterwauling of the other infant, but he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, and felt utterly helpless. Kay glanced at the baby crying in the crib, and handed her bundle to Mitch. “You take him,” she murmured, and then, “just support his head, Mitch.”

“Wait!” he whispered as he balanced the swaddled baby, but Kay was already bending over the other crib. With the screamer in her arms, she turned around with a grin for him, and motioned to the white rocker in the center of the nursery.

“You rock. I’ll pace,” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering? That one’s screaming loud enough to wake the dead, and it doesn’t seem to bother any of the others.”

She shook her head. Mitch sighed and settled gingerly in the rocker, terrified the thing would creak and the baby would cry.

“He’s not made of glass,” Kay chided, clearly amused at the way he was holding the baby.

“He’s terrifying,” Mitch said gruffly. “Give me a terrible two-year-old any day. I can deal with those.”

“You’re doing just fine.” Supporting the baby, Kay leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “You were beautiful, Mitch. A beautiful Santa. Your visit made a lot of difference this day, to an awful lot of kids.”

“I wasn’t alone.” The blanket slipped from around the baby; he couldn’t figure out how. Before he had that fixed, a tiny toe escaped as well, and he found himself staring at the little toe. As he tried to wrap the ridiculously small blanket, a thought struck him. “Kay, you’re not taking this baby home?”

“I’d love to take him home,” she said fiercely, and sighed as she laid the second child back in its crib, fast asleep. “I can’t believe a mother would just leave him, and if I didn’t know there are tons of potential parents waiting to adopt…”