chatter died away quickly. The only sound that remained was that of babies cooing and fussing.
Marissa smiled ruefully at the people in the first few rows. “Well, I see that I’m the last one here again. I’m really sorry,” she apologized with feeling, “but I seem to be running behind lately.”
A sympathetic, commiserating murmur rippled through the group. Everyone, it seemed, had been there, or was still there. Babies had a habit of upending lives.
Marissa found looking out on the sea of familiar faces comforting. It helped nudge her problems into the background. At least temporarily. These people weren’t paying good money to come to class just to see a woman nearing the end of her rope. They were here for guidance, bless ’em. And to be shown creative games they could play with their children, games that were geared toward teaching as well as fun.
Most of all, they were here because they loved their children. It gave them all a common bond. A special bond. No one knew better than she did the importance of parental love. Or how it felt to grow up without it.
She looked around the room slowly, making eye contact with as many people as she could. “All right, people, let’s get started, shall we?”
She was preoccupied, he would make book on it.
Alec was well acquainted with the signs. They’d been there, in his own mirror, countless times over the past year. Today had been no exception.
The look that was in her eyes had stared back at him this morning while he was shaving. Preoccupied, he’d almost managed to slice his face. He’d been worrying about finding if not the perfect nanny, at least a tolerable one, preferably with stamina.
Alec couldn’t help wondering what Marissa’s dilemma concerned and if there was any way that they could wind up helping each other. If he did something for her, then maybe she would agree to…
He was really beginning to think like a desperate man, he upbraided himself.
“How could a man feel desperate, having someone like you in his life?” he asked Andrea. She ignored him, trying to swallow her foot whole. Laughing, Alec redirected her attention to the business at hand.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched Marissa as she wandered from parent to parent, giving advice, encouragement and always, tacit approval. Her genuine enthusiasm was infectious. Everyone, he noted, vied for her attention. They were all seated on the floor, most with their offspring planted between their legs, struggling to put the toddlers through the paces of the new exercise she had just introduced.
Marissa was determined to get to everyone at least once during the session. She stopped by one mother whose baby, howling in protest, was trying to make a break for freedom. Each time the woman let go of him, he would start crawling away.
It looked amusing, but Marissa knew how frustrating it could be. “Try this,” she suggested. Using the little boy as a model, Marissa demonstrated how to stretch the young muscles without placing undue pressure on them. The boy stopped squirming.
Success. Marissa rose, nodding at the boy’s mother. “Now you.”
Hesitantly, the woman mimicked what she had been shown. Marissa’s grin was wide as she squeezed her shoulder. “That’s it. Have fun with it.” She began picking her way around the room again. “That’s why you’re here,” she told the others, “to have fun with your baby.”
Another woman waved to get Marissa’s attention. “Is this right?”
“As long as neither you nor your baby turn into a pretzel, it’s right.” Marissa watched as the woman demonstrated her own interpretation of the stretching exercise, then nodded. “Remember, creativity is the key. Be flexible. Inventive. This isn’t so much about form as it is about making sure your baby gets a healthy dose of exercise.”
“How much is enough?” someone asked.
“As much as either one of you can take. You’ll know when it happens,” she promised. Marissa stopped to ruffle one baby’s amazing mop of black hair. The baby gurgled in response. “These babies have energy, use it positively. For you, not against you. Tire them out naturally, instead of having them become comatose in front of a TV set.”
Alec looked up, surprised. “You don’t like television?”
Marissa turned in the direction of the question. Beckett. She couldn’t picture him planting his daughter in front of a television set. He seemed too attentive to the little girl’s needs.
“Oh, I love TV, but just not as a perpetual baby-sitter.”
That had been her mother’s solution and she had taken to it wholeheartedly. So much so that as Marissa was growing up in her nomadic existence, at times it seemed as if the TV was her only friend. It had taken willpower and determination for her to break the habit and stop hiding in a make-believe world. She’d made certain that her siblings didn’t make her mistake.
“Too many parents plant their kids in front of a TV set and leave them there. Then they’re surprised five years later to find out that their son or daughter has turned into a couch potato with no interest in getting any exercise.”
Just as Marissa began to kneel, Andrea scooted through her legs. Marissa grabbed the edge of the little girl’s smock in time to prevent her from colliding with another baby. She stilled Andrea’s squeal of protest with a hug.
She was quick, Alec thought as he reclaimed his daughter from Marissa’s arms. Andrea was developing a nasty habit of wanting to go off exploring on her own. He knew he should encourage it, but he worried about her getting hurt. Maybe he was being too cautious. He wished there was someone to turn to to help him over the rough spots.
“I don’t think there’s any danger of either one of you becoming couch potatoes,” he commented. Not with moves like that.
Marissa inclined her head, acknowledging his assessment. She thought of the pace her life had taken on lately. A sigh escaped before she could prevent it. She saw the curious look in Beckett’s eyes.
“I think I might like that, actually. Kicking back and sitting on a sofa—one that didn’t have work piled up all over it.”
He would have bet that there wasn’t anything about her that was disorganized. Maybe he was wrong. “Are you talking about laundry or a business you run out of the house?”
“Neither.” Marissa thought of the state she had left her living room in this morning. Her sofa was littered with pads of notes that had to do with her thesis. The thesis that would determine whether or not she was going to graduate. “I’m talking about schoolbooks.”
He had a feeling that she didn’t just exclusively teach Baby and Me classes. “Then you’re a real teacher? I mean, you teach someplace else?”
“No, I learn someplace else.” She’d already told him that she was going to school, there was no harm in elaborating. “I’m going for my master’s degree. Child psychology,” she continued. Marissa looked toward her son. Having used him in her original demonstration, she had left Christopher in Cyndee’s care as she made her way around the room. “I want to know what makes them tick as well as how their bodies work.”
He didn’t
