***

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…”

When the blanket was arranged and his baby still hadn’t started crying, Mitch relaxed, finding a sort of right-side-up football carry that the baby didn’t seem to mind. “I get the feeling we’re going to be a little late for the family dinner,” he drawled.

“Do you mind, Mitch?”

Mind? He considered himself extremely lucky that they weren’t taking a two-week-old infant home. Loving Kay was knowing she had an instinct for finding the world’s loneliest, and taking them in. And loving her meant anticipating any number of potential disruptions in a quiet life in the years ahead. “We’re in no hurry, honey,” Mitch agreed, but he was more than half mesmerized at the thought of his own child in her arms.

“The nurses will flood back in here at feeding time. They were just so busy before, particularly this morning, and then this one-I didn’t think he should be left alone.”

“It’s all ri- Kay. It’s-” Mitch’s face became peculiarly contorted.

“Silly.” Kay snatched the baby from him. “Did you wet on poor old Mitch?” she cooed at him. “You just scared him out of his mind, darling.”


***

“I was not scared out of my mind,” Mitch growled as he pushed open the front door of her house and patted her rear end with unerring aim until Kay was safely out of the driving wind.

“Of course you weren’t,” Kay said placatingly, and started giggling again as she tugged off her coat. “You’re so good with the kids. Who would have guessed that a massive lug like you would be terrified of a ten-pound baby?”

“If I make you a cup of coffee, will you lay off?”

“Nope. No coffee. Just give me four and a half seconds to change and another three full minutes to call my family, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“You don’t need to change.”

“I do, too. I’m not going to your mother’s house smelling like baby powder.”

She was in such a rush, plugging in the tree lights, dropping the Santa suits, taking off her coat, slipping off her shoes in the middle of the floor. He had plenty of time to block her path back toward the bedroom, and in one fell swoop he wrapped her up and hugged her. Just…hugged her.

“Oh, Mitch.” She returned his hug, and then for an instant her head tilted back, and her eyes seared his with an intensely searching expression that he couldn’t fathom. Before he could question her, she wriggled free. “Let me go, you oaf, or I’ll tell your mother you held us up by seducing me.”

“Are you kidding? My mother wouldn’t believe you, and my father would serve you champagne.”

“Your father knows I’m a good woman. Unlike what you think.”

“Come back here and I’ll show you what I think.”

“Don’t you come near this bedroom. We’re late enough,” Kay called as she disappeared down the hall.

“What about zippers and stuff?”

“No excuses.”

Mitch, smiling, stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered aimlessly while she changed her dress. The huge Christmas tree was set up with winking lights, a dozen strands. She liked lights. She also liked to decorate the tree with every handmade ornament any kid had ever given her. The whole place smelled like holly and pine.

And he was going to have Kay and the holly and the pine to himself for a couple of days over the holidays. He’d talked her into a mini-vacation at the hunting lodge up north…and it had taken some talking. She too damn clearly hadn’t wanted to go.

He’d put on a casual air every time he’d been around her. A man didn’t wear hurt or anxiety on his sleeve…and he’d been afraid of pushing her too far. He couldn’t risk losing her altogether. But he was well aware that Kay had not shown any reticence in their relationship until they’d made love.

He couldn’t imagine any more explosiveness than they’d experienced making love together. Kay was totally responsive, so completely uninhibited and free in her loving that he knew she was satisfied. Or did he just want to believe that? How the hell was he supposed to measure it?

“Done. Okay?” Kay whirled in the doorway, showing off an emerald-green dress with that strange extra material under the sleeves, like the garments he saw in magazines.

His lips twitched in a smile. “Beautiful.”

She made a face. “It’s a shame I can’t believe you. You’re so darned biased… Mitch, I have time to phone my parents, don’t I? I know we’re late, but if I don’t get through now…well, you know how the lines are around the holidays.”

“Of course you have time.”

She flashed him a smile, one he could see in a glance didn’t reach her eyes. He trailed her as she crossed into the kitchen and started dialing.

“She’ll be all right, you know,” he said quietly.

Her soft eyes lifted to his. “Jana?”

“She was fine two days ago when you called,” he reminded her gently, understanding perfectly why her mood had suddenly shifted.

“I know that, but…” Kay spoke to the operator, then leaned against the counter as she waited. “You know, you’d love Jana, Mitch. She’s pretty and she’s funny and she’s got your kind of courage… Mom? Merry Christmas!”

Mitch watched her a moment longer, long enough to ensure everything was all right at her parents’ home. He could tell from her expression, not needing to hear any of the conversation, just as he understood her mood change whenever her sister’s name was brought up.

She’d told him a great deal about Jana’s illness. About the latest remission of two years, about the years when the family was afraid Jana wouldn’t make it, of Jana’s trial by pain. He felt he knew Kay’s sister, from having shared the similar lengthy trial of a lonely illness.

More than that, he felt protective of Kay because of it. She felt guilty about not being physically closer to her family; she worried about her sister constantly and felt helpless to do anything for her. Mitch’s family had been in those shoes-those of the helpless bystanders. There was a kind of life’s trial that had to be faced alone; it hurt those closest because there really wasn’t anything they could do. He understood so much of what Kay was feeling…