Dream Keeper

by Gail McFarland

  He watched the cab turn and drive out of the gated community before turning toward his house. The silence surrounding his home was pleasant and reassuring as he walked the rest of the way to his house.

  Letting himself in, he noticed that though the house was quiet, Marlea had not armed the alarm system. She’d also left lights on in several rooms. She didn’t want me to break my neck, he thought fondly.

  Turning the lights out as he walked toward the master suite, he couldn’t help hearing Dench’s words. ‘I don’t know if you’re a selfish bastard or just a damned lucky one. You have everything I want, everything Rissa and I ever wanted, and you have the nerve to be mad about it.’ For sure, that was the kind of thing that only a friend could get away with saying, and damn it, he was right.

  AJ set the alarm system and continued down the hall. Seeing the subtle glow of nightlights coming from his children’s rooms, he couldn’t resist the urge to look in on them. He used his fingertips to press Jabari’s door open and moved silently into the room.

  His son, dressed in little blue and white striped pajamas, lay on his back with his arms and legs flung wide. Snoring like a trucker, he had given himself fully over to sleep. Listening to his son’s snoring, AJ bent to look into his face and found him smiling. Touching a finger to the child’s hand, he smiled when the boy’s fingers curled around his. Dropping a light kiss to his son’s cheek, he tipped from the room.

  Nia’s door, directly across the short hallway, was similarly open. Moving like a shadow, AJ entered his daughter’s pink and white room. Lying in a swath of moonlight, Nia slept in the exact center of her small bed wearing a tiny white ruffled nightshirt and a glittering tiara.

  My baby is a princess, for real.

  Reaching, careful not to wake her, AJ lifted the miniature silver crown from her hair. Tenderly, he untangled a few errant stands and smoothed them gently back into place. Her lashes fluttered against her cheek and he froze, not daring to breathe. Suddenly, she sat straight up, looked at him and smiled. Before he could speak, she plopped her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes—sound asleep again. Marveling, he watched her easy breathing and wondered how she did it.

  Lucky, he thought. Next time I see Dench, I’ll have to tell him that I am one damned lucky man. This all came so easily that I never fully appreciated it. Nia sighed and rocked in her sleep. Dreaming, AJ guessed.

  Charmed by his daughter, AJ was startled to feel Marlea at his side. Looking down at her, he couldn’t help being pleased. She wore only the top of his pajamas, with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. She missed me…When his lips parted, she touched them with a silencing finger.

  “I think we’d have to set off a bomb to wake her,” he whispered, sliding a long arm around her shoulders. When she leaned against him, he closed the circle of his embrace.

  “Did you and Dench have a good time?”

  How did she know?

  “I saw his truck when you left the house.”

  Oh. “We watched the Braves and talked.” Feeling her warmth, he made himself finish. “Maybe I’ve taken too much for granted. We have some things to work through, but nothing like Rissa and Dench. You called me selfish, but I was stupid, Silk.”

  “Promise me that you’re not going to make it a habit.”

  “Promise.” Her hair was soft and smelled of something fragrant and clean, distracting him. “If it comes down to Rissa needing your help and you want to do it, I understand and I’ll be right there with you.”

  “And I don’t need your permission.”

  He smiled. She was going to work this for all it was worth—oh, well. “No, you don’t.”

  Her hand flattened against his chest when she lifted her mouth for his kiss, and he let his lips linger. When they parted, she sighed lightly, then smiled when their daughter made the same sound.

  Pushing far enough away to look into the face of the man she loved, Marlea’s eyes narrowed, appraising him. “It’s nice to be loved by someone who’s not afraid to be stupid over me. But just don’t forget,” she rose on her toes to leave a sweet kiss on his lips, “I’m not a democracy, you don’t get a vote, and you’re not the boss of me.”

  Convinced she’d made her point, Marlea rested against AJ, taking the comfort he offered.

  Nia sighed again and turned in her sleep, looking every bit like her mother, offering a glimpse of the woman she would someday become. Holding the miniature crown and the woman he would love for his lifetime, the little girl’s father felt his heart swell with love even as he hoped that just maybe she had not inherited her mother’s stubbornness.

  Chapter 14

  Selfish bastard. Love him like a brother, but he’s still a selfish son of a bitch…and damn it, I wish I could blame him for feeling the way he does, but I can’t.

  Rolling down the highway, letting I-285 lead him out of Atlanta, Dench eased the windows down in his truck and tried to let the breeze clear out his head, but damn, there was so much in there. And we both know I didn’t lie. He and Marlea have everything Rissa and I want. Everything.

  Truth be told, I never really thought about having kids before I married Rissa. I always liked them, never called them crumb snatchers or rugrats, or anything worse, but I never saw myself as a father—maybe because I didn’t have one, didn’t quite understand what the father thing was all about. But now, because of her, I want children, at least one. I want the chance to touch eternity in my son or daughter.

  He reached, touching the buttons on the in-dash MP3 player and sighed when Nelly’s smooth rap, surrounded by Kelly Rowland’s sweet voice, filled the cab. He felt his head bob to the rhythm, sucked in a deep drought of the night air and kept his foot pressed down on the gas.

  “Dilemma,” he remembered, resting his arm on the window frame and starting to relax. That was the name of the song. It was hot back around the time I was fumbling around trying to make sure that I could really afford to be the right man for Rissa.

  Drifting with the melody, he wondered where the time had gone. “Dilemma” had been playing on just about every radio station in Atlanta when he pulled up in front of Emory University’s School of Law that summer day. She was sitting on the white marble steps in front of the main building, with four tall, good-looking guys hanging on her every word—holding court. Wearing a short khaki skirt and sandals, she had her short, wavy hair brushed straight back from her face, and a stack of books rested at her feet. She looked fresh and pretty, and any one of the four men would have picked her up and carried her on his back anywhere she wanted to go.

  But she called me. He still felt pride that he was the one she’d turned to when her car was towed. And that look on her face when I walked up…men go to war just to have a woman look at them like that.

  Happily rescued, she’d thrown an arm around his neck and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. When he’d bent to pick up her books, one of the four men, more aggressive than the others, had the nerve to step into his path.

  “Didn’t get your name, brother. Are you in school here?”

  Stacking the books in one hip-braced arm, Dench had given the man a slow grin. “Didn’t give you my name, brother. And, no, I’m not in school here, but you are right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When it comes to her, I’m not your competition. I’m The One.”

  “The One?”

  “For her.”

  Walking away with his arm draped casually about her shoulders, settling her into the little two-seater he used to drive, he’d been a proud man. She’d toyed with the radio, found “Dilemma” on another station, smiled at him and had sung along as he pulled away from the curb. Thought law students were supposed to be smart. He should’ve seen that one coming. To this very day, he wasn’t sure whether Rissa had heard the brief exchange or not, but the song would forever remind him of her.

  “Dilemma”—I guess that’s a perfect song for us. My baby always brings the drama, whether she means to or not. And A
J is not much better. I still remember when I told him that I was going to marry her…

  It felt like a lifetime ago, sitting out on the stone terrace that cool November afternoon. Sitting there, kicked back by the firepit, AJ was a man in love and feeling like a million tax-free dollars. Marrying the right woman and finding out that you’re going to be a father will do that to a man.

  Not that I blame him, but how lucky can one man get? Beautiful woman, fantasy wedding, fabulous honeymoon, and he manages to get her pregnant on the honeymoon. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him sitting there like someone had given him the keys to the kingdom. Dench shook his head and willed the flash of jealousy away.

  Deep down, I don’t really blame him. If the shoe was on the other foot, I would feel the same way and I would fight to keep what I had, too. He sighed and focused on the road. Maybe that’s what Rissa thought she was doing when she called Marlea.

  And AJ just had to be the one to pick up the message. Dench bit his lip and frowned at the night. Well, at least now, he knows what Rissa is thinking.

  The song ended and Dench hit replay, humming along with Nelly and Kelly as he slowed to merge onto I-85. Coming out of the turn, he felt a small slow smile cross his lips as he passed a nervous man hunched over the steering wheel of a white Honda.

  I can see why he got so worried about Marlea’s wanting to do this—AJ’s always been so protective of the women in his life. Shoot, I remember that when I told him that I was thinking about marrying Rissa, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘Where are you going to live, because man, you are not going to shack up in my guest house with my sister—and my mother will lock her doors on you! Don’t play with my sister like that. You love her, you treat her right, and you’d better keep a roof over her head!’

  When I told him that I’d already bought the land and was ready to break ground on a new home for her, he was still not satisfied until I showed him the deed to the property and the plans for the house. Then he got mad when I wouldn’t tell him how I planned to propose.

  Sitting there, trying to look like somebody’s daddy…‘You know Rissa believes in happily ever after, so you’d better step up the romance.’

  And I did, Dench remembered, that’s just what I did. The light traffic fell easily behind him and Dench’s smile broadened. Rissa hadn’t been much better than her brother. Romance and fidelity scored big points in her book. I knew that from the minute I stepped into her lineup. I believe she always knew what I had in mind for us, he thought, even though she didn’t know the plan exactly.

  I didn’t want to do anything like putting the ring in a cupcake, or hiring a singing telegram. So, dinner, I told her, and any other time she would have been wearing one of those slinky dresses, spiked heels, and sexy cologne. But that night, I showed up and she was decked out in T-shirt and jeans—cute, but not what I expected. And there was no way I could say anything about it without giving away the surprise. Never mind that I walked through the door dressed like a lumberjack. I still don’t know how I managed to pick the coldest night of the year to propose.

  He sighed, remembering how hard he’d worked to come up with the perfect proposal for her. Then there was the setup: I went all the way to Buckhead to pick up that special meal from Chef Steph at Field Greens Café and then had to hike the food, the flowers, the table, the music, and the lanterns onto the property by coming in the back way…It seemed so right though, proposing to her that cold night on the site of our future home. Still seems funny that she trusted me enough to let me blindfold her, drive her around for twenty minutes, and then lead her to that spot, but she did.

  And when he removed the silk scarf he’d used to cover her eyes, she’d gasped and clapped her hands in delight. “We’re camping out?”

  “Sort of…” Okay, that’s not the smartest thing I could have said, but what else was I going to say and still manage not to give away the surprise?

  Turning to him, obviously pleased and laughing, she’d buried her face against his shoulder and held him tightly. Nice as that hug was, I was determined to say what I planned and all I got to say was her name.

  When Dench held her gloved hands and spoke her name, she’d looked at him with those sparkling nut brown eyes and convinced him that the world was his. Going to one knee, determined to speak the words in his heart, he was stunned to find her kneeling with him.

  I must have looked completely crazy, but she said she wanted to be close so that she didn’t miss a word. So I just knelt there, holding her hands, looking into those eyes and speaking the words I’d practiced for a year.

  And he could still hear her words. “You don’t know what you mean to me. I would cross desert sands for you. I would walk on water for you. I love you more than air, and I will be your wife—forever.”

  Dench played Nelly and Kelly again as he steered onto I-985, thinking. He could still see her sitting in the glow of the fire he’d built, staring at the band of diamonds circling her finger. Even when we walked that property together, stumbling along in the beam of that little flashlight, talking about what rooms would be where, it was the ring that made it all true for her.

  “A perfect circle,” she’d said, turning her hand. “No beginning, no end, just forever.” Firelight had danced in her eyes and gilded her skin. She’d asked for only one other thing. “Warm.” She’d shivered slightly in his arms. “Let’s get married somewhere warm.” And it had made perfect sense to him. Reliving the moment, Dench felt his heart swell and he drove in silence, enjoying it.

  Pulling off I-985, Spout Springs Road came up almost before he realized it. The turns along Thurmon Tanner and Atlanta Highway brought him to the Falcons’ complex. Recognizing his truck, Hal Freeman raised a hand and stepped out of the air conditioned cubicle guarding the front gate.

  “Hey, Coach, what’s up?” Hal tugged the band of his pants over his belly and rocked on his heels. “You’re late tonight.”

  “Yeah.” Dench grinned, knowing that the guard would never be NFL prime, but it never hurt to take pride in one’s appearance. “Had some business to finish up at home. Everybody else in and accounted for?”

  “On board and accounted for, even Sawyer.” This coach ran a tight ship and every fan in Flowery Branch appreciated him for it—and Hal was a fan.

  “Glad to hear it. Well, I’m going to call it a night.”

  Hal raised a hand and snapped off a smart salute, grinning when Dench returned it. Stepping back into the air conditioning, Hal closed the door behind him and watched Dench’s truck follow the road past the practice fields, heading toward one of the five dormitory-style units that housed the players and coaches. “He’s a good guy.”

  Mike Wilton looked up from his newspaper and nodded. “Coach Traylor? Yeah, he is. He say why he’s coming in so late tonight?”

  “Guess he wants to get an early start in the morning. Said he had some business to finish up at home.” Hal shifted his attention from the window to the refrigerator across the room.

  Mike smiled, then laughed.

  “What? What’s so funny?” Sensitive, Hal straightened from his inspection of the refrigerator’s contents. He hitched his pants higher and looked concerned. “What?”

  “Ever meet his wife? She’s fine, right?” Mike’s laughter simmered into appreciation. “Huh, fine as she is, she’s the business he had at home.”

  Hal looked out the window, then back at his coworker. “You think?”

  “Yeah, man. A woman looks like that and she’s smart, too…” Mike licked his lips and smiled wolfishly. “Oh, yeah, she’s the business.”

  Rissa was still on his mind when Dench pulled the MP3 player from the dash—Nelly and Kelly were going inside with him. Shoving the driver’s side door open, Dench caught sight of his watch and wondered if Rissa had tried to call him. It was midnight and his cellphone had yet to ring. I left her just after seven. Maybe she left a message up here. Stepping out of the truck, he reached back for his cap and traveling bag.

>   If she didn’t…I could always call her…He hesitated a moment. then slammed the truck door shut and headed into the housing unit. Pushing the lobby door with his foot, he greeted the two linemen who plowed through the opening, nearly running into him. “Hey, dude, save some of that for the field.”

  Sheepish and definitely caught, the two big men claimed to be observing curfew.

  “We’re just heading over to the amenities building to break up the pool game,” said one.

  “Yes, because it’s after midnight,” the other added piously.

  Dench just shook his head and they took it as a reprieve, running out into the night. “Make it quick,” Dench yelled after them, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

  “Last thing I need is those dudes hanging out all night watching movies and talkin’ smack, and then dragging out on the field in the morning trying to run drills. I need them up and ready to hit that 1-2-1 schedule.” He continued to talk to himself as he followed the corridor to his assigned living space.

  “Knuckleheads already know that they’ll be hitting between ninety minutes and two hours a session, and they’re out there running around in the dark talking about playing pool. I’d better not hear any moaning and groaning in the morning.”

  Sliding the cardkey through the lock on his door, he pushed when he heard the lock click. Inside, his hand brushed the wall switch and the contrast between the relatively Spartan training facility to his home hit him instantly—not that Flowery Branch wasn’t a better than average setup. But he missed the tranquil blues and greens, the chocolate browns that colored and filled his home. He missed the sight and sound of Rissa moving through his life.

  I’ve seen worse, he thought, dropping his bag by the desk in the small study. For that matter, the whole Falcon franchise has seen worse. He remembered that in the days before Arthur Blank’s ownership and the move to Flowery Branch, the Falcons had done their in-season training at Furman University in South Carolina.

  Here, he had privacy and it was clean. His bedroom was spacious, the furnishings were good, he had a private bathroom, and the common area was convenient—a far cry from the old college dorms. Decent, he thought, kicking off his shoes in the bedroom and sneaking a glance at the bedside phone—no flashing message indicator. Stripping off AJ’s shirt, he tossed it across the room and watched it land on a chair. Couldn’t do that at home. Rissa would pitch a royal fit.