Mistletoe & Kisses Read online

  “Dana,” she says with a shy smile. I look around the other kids at the miniature table and get their names to make sure I don’t leave anyone out. I see Batty from the corner of my eye talking quietly with the dad for a few minutes. Finally they stand up.

  “Hey sweetie, I’m gonna take a little nap in your room okay?” he says, leaning over his daughter. She just nods happily, not even looking up from her glue and paper. I smile at the guy over his daughter’s head, knowing that I look like a decent human being for a change. He nods before walking off, looking back several times as he leaves the room.

  * * *

  Three hours later, I’m the one exhausted. We’ve hung lights, paper chains, snowflakes, ornaments, and picture things that go on the windows. I’ve talked with all of the kids, most of the parents, but stayed close to Dana. Rachel from last week is nowhere I can see, which I take as a good thing. Jayden isn’t here either. I don’t think about that.

  Now I’m painting the fourth pair of little nails in a row. Something this easy sure does bring huge smiles. The Grinch is playing—a little early in my opinion— but the kids are absorbed and mostly quiet. A nurse goes around asking the girls if they want to get their nails done while Batty spends time with the little guys.

  “Rachel would love this,” the little one breathes in excitement. My hand jerks a little and I quickly pull the brush away.

  “Is she here?”

  The little girl nods sadly. “Yeah. She can’t come out because she’s super sick.”

  Is the word super necessary? Is that a little kid thing to exaggerate? Or is she super sick? I smile weakly and finish her nails. Five girls later, I’ve finished them all. I look around the room at frail little faces smiling and glancing at their hands, showing their friends as they whisper and take a deep breath. What is this feeling? I struggle with it, trying to figure out why my chest feels tight, too full, and my head is calm and relaxed. My eyes move to the TV as the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.

  Ugh. Don’t be stupid.

  My eyes gravitate to the back of the crowd where Batty is talking to one of the older kids. I tilt my head to gesture down the hall and he does a chin lift, bringing me back to the last time he did that. Right after he fucked me then asked my name. Yeah. That’s not happening again.

  I quickly walk down the hall until I get to the door that I remember being Rachel’s and knock as gently as I can. I don’t hear anything so I open it a crack to see her sleeping, the rest of the room empty. I go to close the door again, but I notice a doll with a crown on the floor by her bed and Rachel’s hand extended through the railing toward it.

  I tiptoe so that my heels don’t make too much noise, and take my eyes off of the little girl to get the doll. As soon as I look down I feel a little hand on the top of my head. It scares the shit out of me, and I look up quickly, causing her hand to slide to the ponytail that’s slipped over my shoulder.

  “Your hair’s so pretty,” she rasps weakly behind an oxygen mask.

  “What color was your hair?” I ask, bringing her doll back onto the bed, making sure to tuck it under the blanket.

  “Purple?” she asks on a little giggle. It makes me smile, so I pull up a chair.

  “Green?” I ask.

  “Pink! I always wanted pink hair. Mommy said I wasn’t old enough yet.” Her smile dims a little bit.

  “They at church?”

  She nods. “They spend a lot of time there.”

  I wonder if her parents are really at church. For all I know, they’ve been telling her that and going out to eat, living their lives, while their child slowly dies. That full feeling in my chest begins to burn.

  I reach for my purse and hold up three different colors of nail polish. She smiles. A dimple pops out that hasn’t been there before. She points to the purple glitter, and I set the other two back and get to work.

  “If you could do anything in the world, what would it be, Rachel?” I ask while I begin to paint her nails.

  “Like to go someplace?”

  I glance up at her. “If you could do anything—go ice skating, eat a cheeseburger, ride a rollercoaster—what would it be?”

  Her eyes look away from me to stare at the wall, lost in her thoughts. “I would have a tea party. With little cakes and tea in a pot like on Beauty and the Beast. But my mouth hurts, my tummy too. So I can’t eat anything.”

  “Do you know what the best thing to eat is?” I ask, leaning forward to get close to her. She shakes her head.

  “When I imagine something that I can’t have, like truffles from Paris or Tiramisu from Italy, I close my eyes and pretend.” I smile, and oh so slowly get a smile back. “Do you want to pretend with me, doll?”

  She nods with more conviction and finally has a little color in her pale cheeks. I stand and grab my purse. “I’ll be back. I have to go get some stuff, but seriously, I’m hurrying. You wait here and take a nap so we can be ladies when I get back okay?”

  Rachel covers her mouth, but I can still hear the giggles as I exit the room. It makes me walk faster, turning a corner while I dig for my keys. I almost go down when I collide with a cement freaking wall. Otherwise known as Batty.

  I put a hand to my jaw, rotating it cautiously. “It’s a good thing my head was turned. I could have a broken nose right now.”

  “Where are you going?” he rumbles with his arms crossed, so I cross mine too.

  “Well, Daddy.” He takes a threatening step closer to me, but I power through. “I’m going to get something for Rachel. Will you be available in an hour and a half? I’m going to need you for an event.”

  “Don’t call me that unless you want to be taken over my knee, little girl.” It really should be humiliating that he’s in my face, threatening me in a Batman mask. Why the hell isn’t it? Why is it so fucking hot?

  I look up at him through my lashes and whisper, “Do you want to spank me?”

  His grey eyes are the color of gunmetal. When did he get so close? We stare at each other, both unmoving as nurses and doctors pass us in the hall. “How old are you, Sadie?”

  I smirk and take a step back, telling myself I’m not retreating. “It’s a little late to be worried if I’m legal, Batty.” His eyes are questioning, but he doesn’t ask about the name.

  “You don’t care how old I am?”

  “Are you old enough to be my daddy?”

  “Do you have daddy issues?”

  I laugh out loud, the sound almost making me jump it’s so rusty. “I have issues. Period.” I watch him, trying to recall how old he looked the other night, but really I wasn’t looking for crow’s feet and grey hair in the moonlight. “I need to go.”

  He does that damn chin lift and turns, walking back the way he came. I head to the front desk, telling Alyse that I will be back.

  * * *

  When I get back to the hospital I’ve got several bags over my shoulders with more along each arm. Alyse looks on with alarm as I sign in and move without hesitation to Rachel’s room. She’s sleeping so I take off my shoes at the door, setting things up slowly. I watch her when I’m done. Her cheekbones are showing, elbows protruding. She looks beyond emaciated. And so, so tired. The circles under her eyes aren’t from lack of sleep. It’s just from living. There are several cords going into her gown, some taped to her cheeks.

  I’m prepared to wait all night, I have no where to be . . . well besides with Batty. But this is my priority. The door clicking open, then shut, brings Rachel around though. Batty stands there in his cape and mask taking in the scene.

  Rachel gasps before either one of us can say a word and our attention is brought to her. “Oh my God!”

  I lean forward and take her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “Hey now. Your parents probably wouldn’t want you saying that.”

  “What’s going on in here, Robin?”

  I smile and bring a wig from out of sight, making Rachel gasp again. I tie a thin scarf around her head first, then put the neon pink wig on. “We�
�re having a tea party,” I tell him, still adjusting the bob cut on the little girl’s head.

  Next I bring out mine, a neon green that has Rachel giggling again. “Do you want a wig, Batty? I found a yellow one?” I ask, innocently holding it up. He shakes his head, pulling up a chair next to the bed. I move Rachel’s bed to sit up more and we concentrate on the ‘table’ I’ve set up at the foot of the bed. Against the foot rail there are several stuffed animals, all of them with a place setting.

  “Where’s the food, or the tea for that matter?” Batty asks.

  I roll my eyes and share a look with Rachel that she unsurely returns. “Batty. We are imagining the food and tea. It’s better that way. We can eat whatever we want.” I turn back to the little girl. “What do you want to eat first? Wait!” I jump up before she can say anything and dig around another bag I had hung on the bathroom doorknob.

  “I almost forgot these!” I hold up the bead necklaces and tiaras, placing them gently onto Rachel and then myself. “Okay. Now what do you want to eat, your highness?”

  Through a smile, Rachel answers, “Cookies.”

  I hand her a place setting, then Batty, completely ignoring how his hand brushes mine as he takes the cup and saucer. “Oh, nice! What kind?”

  “Chocolate with chocolate chips, still warm so that they melt in your mouth.”

  “That sounds amazing! Am I drooling?” I ask her, putting a cloth napkin in her lap. Her smile is permanent as she shakes her head, her eyes lifting to look at the bangs of the wig.

  “What about you, Robin?” Rachel asks.

  I sigh as I hand Batty a napkin. “I’m going to have to go with crème brulee.” I note the confused look on her face, and wish I had picked something simpler. “It’s like pudding, with hard sugar on top.”

  “And you, Batman? Will you eat with us?”

  I look up from preparing little plastic cookies with forks onto the plates at Rachel’s question.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. How many chances do you get to eat with royalty?”

  “What will you be eating?”

  Batty licks his lips, drawing my eyes. “I would love some peach cobbler. Homemade, with vanilla bean ice cream on the side.” Not what I was expecting.

  “That sounds really good. I love ice cream,” Rachel says.

  “Then you should have some too. Dip your warm cookies in it.”

  She whispers, “Yeah,” with a smile that makes my chest do that thing again.

  I hold my cup up, making sure my back is straight and my nose is in the air. “To the finest tea party I’ve ever had the privilege of attending. Queen Rachel, Sir Batty, thank you for accepting my invitation.” I raise my cup and lightly touch it with both of theirs. Batty and I wait until Rachel takes her first sip from the cup before taking ours. Rachel hums, setting her cup down and dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

  “The tea is excellent, Princess Robin.”

  I bow my head to the little girl. “Thank you kindly, Queen Rachel. I’m glad you approve.” Our heads are brought around to a slurping sound coming from Batty, our eyes wide.

  He looks up to us, and I hear a sound. A laugh? More of a chuckle, but it shakes me so much the cup rattles in its plate. Rachel laughs, and I can’t help but join in.

  “It seems Sir Batty has been away from the tea table for quite some time,” I say through my laughter. Rachel is laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes. Batty bows his head low.

  “My apologies, my queen. I have indeed. This is excellent tea,” he says, holding his empty cup up.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  We finish our first course of imaginary food, humming and groaning, eyes rolling back as we describe the dishes. We go through finger sandwiches, ham and cheese for Rachel, cucumber and cream cheese for me because I remember that from somewhere, and peanut butter and jelly for Batty, making us all crack up again.

  When we’re done Rachel looks tired, so I know we don’t have much time left.

  “And how was your tea, Lady Bear?” Rachel asks the stuffed animal at the foot of the bed.

  I pick up a hand to make it move and say in a mousy voice and a horrible British accent, “’Twas lovely, Queen. Thank you for having me.”

  Rachel laughs, which gets us all going, and I bend to pick up the duck next, trying to figure out a voice to go with it when an alarm starts blaring.

  The next moments are in slow motion. My eyes move first to the machine causing the sound, then to Rachel. She looks asleep. I think at first she is. But that doesn’t make sense.

  “Rachel?” I hear myself say, but from a long ways away, like I’m underwater. “Rachel?” I ask more forcefully.

  Batty is up and moving around the bed as people flood the room. Nurses and doctors, I guess. But I’m just staring, waiting for her eyes to open and give me a laugh. A giggle. Something.

  The crew starts stripping down the bed, brushing her plastic necklaces aside and lowering the bed. They tear the gown off of her body. They’re treating her too roughly, she’s delicate. As I stand my cup shatters on the ground. “RACHEL?”

  Batty’s arms go around me as I reach for them. They’re going to hurt her. “RACHEL?!”

  His arms are steel bands and won’t let me go. He drags me first to the back of the room, then out the door. “Rachel,” I whisper. I blink over and over, trying to rewind, trying to unsee. Batty hits the wall opposite her door. Nurses rush back and forth, and I wait, like a damned parent, for them to tell me it was a false alarm. We wait until a doctor comes out slower than the rest. The siren has stopped.

  Batty’s arms haven’t stopped holding me, squeezing so tight I don’t know if the trouble I have breathing is because of that too full feeling in my chest or him crushing my ribs.

  The doctor goes to leave. I try to lurch away to follow but don’t get very far. “Wait! What are you doing?” I ask numbly.

  The doctor sighs and looks between us before walking back to where we are. “Are you the parents?”

  “I . . . what?” I can’t think.

  “No.” I feel the short answer more than hear it. Something’s wrong with my ears. There’s a roaring in them.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t give any information to you if you aren’t the next of kin.”

  “Ki—“ I can’t even finish the sentence. That’s what they say when something bad happens. But, fuck, she’s already got cancer.

  There’s a commotion down the hall, the sound becoming faster, louder as two people round the corner at a run.

  They see the doctor, and I see them.

  “You,” I growl, knowing these are the people that leave her.

  “Sadie,” is whispered in my ear as I struggle.

  “Where were you?!” I screech.

  The doctor turns back to me, directing his eyes over my shoulder. “Get her out of here.”

  “Her? HER?! I was here!” I focus on my prey. “Where were you? At your church or getting something to eat, while your daughter imagines food? Where the fuck were you?” I scream at them.

  Batty says, “Okay,” before he hauls me away. I kick on my bare feet. I resemble someone on Jerry Springer held back by the bodyguard.

  “You’re leaving, Sadie,” Batty says as he pulls me toward the elevators, taking me dangerously close to the people I want to rip apart.

  “What is wrong with you,” the guy asks, looking like I’m crazy.

  “I was having tea with the queen!” I try to launch myself at him, but Batty’s too strong, so I resort to my long legs. Before I can make contact he lurches me around so that I can’t see them anymore. He doesn’t let me go until we’re in the elevator. When he does, I almost collapse to the ground.

  Batty’s breathing hard, pacing with his hands on his hips. We don’t speak. My mind is numb, but at the same time whirling like that tornado from last time, but this is F5.

  There are people on the elevator to the parking garage and a woman keeps looking at me from the corner of h
er eye. I start for her, barking, “What?”

  Batty is there in a second, pulling me away. The woman shrugs and moves to the front. She gets off on the first floor, even though she pressed two.

  When we get to the third floor, we’re alone. I stand there, just staring. I see Rachel laughing, so hard tears were running down her cheeks. Then I see her still. Over and over.

  “Come on,” Batty says, grabbing my arm and moving me toward his car.

  “But—” I say quietly.

  “You don’t have your purse. I’ll drive you.”

  “Purse?” I ask, confused.

  “Your keys. You don’t have them or your driver’s license.”

  I look to my feet and behind me as he drags me along. Nope. They aren’t there.

  “You’re in shock. You couldn’t drive anyway. Get in the car.” He opens the door, and my knees buckle more than sit in the seat. He stands outside of my door as I stare out the front, then Batty grabs the seatbelt and latches it for me with a sigh.

  I don’t move. I don’t think the whole ride home. The same reel keeps going through my head. Laughing, asleep . . . my mind won’t accept anything else than asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  SUNDAY

  Batty’s face, without the mask, brings me back to the present; he’s unlatching my seatbelt. I look around.

  “You’re home,” he says unnecessarily. But I don’t have my keys. I tell him.

  “Don’t you have a spare under a rock or something?” he asks impatiently.

  I look around my yard. My mind not able to process. A rock?

  Batty’s hand on my bicep gets me moving to the front porch. The light is on, so Batty leaves me to start kicking over first the front mat, then rocks in the yard.

  “It’s shit.”

  Batty keeps kicking rocks down the front of the house, ignoring me. He seems to be getting madder he goes along.

  “It’s in the shit,” I call after him.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. He’s pissed. Why? I point to the center of the yard.