Page 82 of Wait a HO HO HO Second!

“The first time is always the hardest, but knowing she found so much joy in this part of the holiday, I’ll wear a smile instead of a frown. Let’s make this Christmas a little better for the kids, shall we?” Kian asked, motioning for her to go first toward the elevators.

“We shall. I’ll take the lead, and if they want to sit on your lap, we’ll make that happen. Some kids can get out of bed, and some can’t, so we keep it very fluid,” Joy explained as they stepped into the elevator.

“We’ve got this with a little help from Mom,” he said, pressing the button for the fourth floor.

When they stepped off the elevator onto the pediatric ward, calm washed over her. That’s when she knew the truth. Sometimes courage is in the coat.

42

#Onefinalwish

Joy approached the nurses’ station, having lost her Santa Claus when she got busy helping a little girl with her new doll. Kian had been her rock today. Earlier, he’d left her at the apartment for a few hours to rest while he helped Marci with mall business. Had she rested? A bit, but that was hard after learning she was a multimillionaire. Granted, the money wasn’t exactly tangible yet, but soon she’d have more than she knew how to spend. Trying to wrap her head around it only made it hurt, so she’d decided to set it aside until after Christmas, when they could meet with the lawyer.

If they added Harrington and Vale as an anchor store, she’d certainly see a significant increase in income. She had no intention of buying a new car or house. No, the first thing she’d buy was the new AFOs she’d been discussing with her orthotist. Her insurance would cover only part of the cost, and now she wouldn’t have to worry about paying the rest. Kian had already offered to pay for them, and she’d gotten the ball rolling, but now she understood why he’d been so insistent that she call immediately. Kian already knew she could pay for them herself.

It was two p.m. the next time Kian arrived at her doorstep to ask about the hospital event and whether she thought she could go. Joy was already dressed and ready. Lorelei wouldn’t want her to miss it. She also hoped that spending time with the kids would remind her of Lorelei’s love.

It had. When she arrived in each child’s room with Santa, watching the kids’ eyes light up filled her heart with so much happiness. They were stuck in a hospital over the holidays, so nothing made her happier than bringing the holidays and Santa to them. Interestingly, it wasn’t Santa the kids were drawn to. It was her. Maybe it was her crutches and off-kilter gait that told them she understood their frustrations. Maybe it was the coat. Maybe it was both. Whatever it was, they wanted the gentleness she offered through hugs and understanding.

“Has anyone seen Santa?” Joy asked at the nurse’s station after she couldn’t find him anywhere.

One of the nurses pointed to a room and held a finger to her lips. Joy nodded in understanding but moved to the door to see who he was talking to. Inside, Kian sat beside the bed of a little boy who seemed uninterested in Kian’s presence. She checked her list of kids on the floor to find who was in room 419. Michael Melland. She had an X next to his name, so they hadn’t visited his room. That usually meant the child didn’t celebrate Christmas or was too ill for visitors. Neither seemed to be the case here, but that name was strikingly familiar. They’d finally found naughty Michael. Something told her there was more to the story, so she walked in and stood beside Santa without a word. A woman slept in the corner, which explained why Kian was whispering.

“I know you’re not real,” Michael proclaimed.

“How do you know?” Kian asked, resting his arm on the bed.

Michael was dressed in loungewear rather than a hospital gown, but he had an IV in his hand and was connected to machines by wires. “Everyone at school says so.”

“If I’m not real, how do I know you keep falling asleep during story time and that you’re always in trouble with Mrs. Peters? Oh, and when you go outside for recess, you say mean things to other kids and hog the swings. Do you do those things?”

The sound that fell from Michael’s lips sounded like a ‘harumph’ to Joy, but she bit back a smile because Kian was working hard to get the boy to open up. “Nobody understands.”

“What didn’t they understand?” Kian asked.

“I didn’t feel well, but no one would listen.”

“Someone is listening now?” Kian asked. The boy nodded.

“They said I have something wrong with my blood cells, but they can help me.”

“I’m glad they can help you,” Joy said, walking to the other side of the bed. “I’m Mrs. Claus, but you already know that, right?” she asked. He nodded, though rather begrudgingly. “I told Santa there had to be a mistake when he said you were on the naughty list. That just didn’t make sense to me because you were always a good boy.”

“I have been,” Michael said, leaning forward for a moment before falling back onto his bed. “But sometimes I get mad.”

“That’s understandable,” Kian said. “It’s hard when you don’t feel well and people expect you to keep doing everything even though you just want to sleep, right?”

Michael nodded, his gaze darting to his mom for a moment before he looked back at them. “I try not to be bad, but when no one listens, I just am.”

Kian nodded, stroking his beard as he glanced at her. She could tell he was desperate for her help, so she jumped in. “You know, Michael, about one thousand years ago, when I was a girl, there was this boy who was always mean at school. He said mean things to the girls and acted very stuck-up. Do you know what that means?” Michael nodded, so she continued without looking at Kian. “Well, I was certain Santa had him on the naughty list, too.”

“Wait, Santa was alive back then? How is that possible? You can’t be a thousand years old.”

“Oh, HO-HO-HO,” Kian said, laughing softly so as not to wake Michael’s mom. “I’m over a thousand years old. Santa years aren’t the same as human years, my boy.”

“He’s right,” Joy said, to drive the point home. “But let’s not get bogged down with math because no one likes math during the holidays, right?”

“I do,” Michael said, nodding. “Math is my best subject. I never get them wrong.”