Dream Keeper

by Gail McFarland

  “Hi, Dench. I was just thinking about you…”

  Chapter 20

  Rubbing her soapy hands together under the hot water, Rissa wondered how many miles she’d covered in these bathroom runs. It seemed that she was headed to the bathroom, on average, every five minutes. She wondered whether Dr. Stanton ever considered these little side trips when she sentenced her patients to bed rest.

  Probably not. If she actually wanted pregnant women to get any real rest, she’d have to insert catheters. Rissa shuddered at the thought as she opened the door. I’ve been in bed with my feet up for more days than I care to count, and yet they’re swollen. “Week thirty-seven is starting to sound really good to me,” Rissa puffed, trying to settle into a comfortable position on the king-sized bed. “She said that we needed to get to week thirty-seven to be safe, and I can’t get there soon enough.”

  “And that’s why Dr. Stanton confined your active ass to bed. All because you couldn’t sit still on your own,” Yvette muttered, shuffling through the files on Rissa’s table. “Out there running around in the middle of the night, trying to take care of a boxer. I don’t know who you think you are—oh, yes, I do. Wonder Woman Black.”

  “Look, I’m his agent, and you know how that is.”

  “Right, and you should remember that you are his agent, not his mother.”

  “I think everybody should calm down and remember that it was gas and nothing else.”

  “This time,” Yvette warned, looking up to shake a finger at her partner.

  “Well, you didn’t have to shuffle your merry self all the way out here…”

  “Yes, I did. I am not about to have our agency go down in flames because you can’t get into the office for more than one day a week for the next two weeks, and the stuff on your desk was leaking into my stuff, making us both look bad.” Yvette clicked a series of commands into her laptop, then leaned to look at Rissa’s. “Here’s the change,” she pointed.

  “I see it.” Rissa highlighted a section of DeJuan Fisher’s proposed shoe contract and smiled. “He said that he was interested in working with us for more than our ‘boutique’ clientele services. He said that he thought we could help him realize his true value, and looking at the numbers, I have to say that we have done our job.”

  “And we have done it well.” Yvette grinned and high-fived her partner. “Tell me the truth, did you just happen to have that sponsor list in your pocket all along, or did you make it up on the fly?”

  “You know how I do.” Rissa grinned back. The baby added a swirl of delight and her grin broadened. “I’m just glad he had all of those Florida tie-ins. That made things a lot easier all around.”

  “Easy is a good thing, sister-girl. I still can’t believe that you managed to link him with the Citrus Council.” Yvette reread the highlighted clause and nodded. “Have you heard any more about Jimmy Clarence? How is he doing?”

  “I guess his head really is as hard as they kept saying it is. He’s home, doing fine and apparently no worse for the wear. He’s not scheduled to fight again for the next six months, so training and playing with his wife and baby are the next big things.”

  Yvette giggled. “Playing with his wife? Was that a Freudian slip?”

  “Whatever. I’m so horny, it might have just been wishful thinking.”

  “That’s a hormonal byproduct of your pregnancy. Anyway,” Yvette cleared her throat and typed quickly before looking up. “So, what’s up with the other one, the guy who hit him?”

  “Tabac?” Rissa read the changes quickly and approved them with the click of a computer key. “Would you believe he got off with a warning from the commission? The thought is that he was dazed and not thinking clearly when he attacked Jimmy from the rear. The sanction he got was pretty much a slap on the wrist. I guess his penalty would have been stiffer if Jimmy hadn’t been blessed with that hard head.”

  “So he lives to fight another day,” Yvette said softly. “God is good.”

  “And now that Jimmy has taken a title bout and recovered from his attack in the ring, he’s even more popular than I ever imagined. A couple of magazines have contacted him for interviews, and BeaconGreen wants to add a new series of commercials since JJ is crawling and Jimmy is the new champ. Two soft drink companies are bidding for his time and the contracts need to be reviewed.” Rissa picked up the folder she’d laid beside her on the bed and flipped through it, then passed it to Yvette. “All in all, it was a night to remember.”

  “And you wound up on bed rest.”

  “Give me a minute to get back to you on that.” Rissa slid to the side of the bed and made her way to the bathroom, frustrated by the trip and the thought of the return. “I swear, my bladder must have shrunk to the size of a thimble.”

  “That’s because you’re such a dainty lady,” Yvette teased.

  “I’ve got your dainty lady, right here.” Rissa closed the bathroom door on her partner’s laughter.

  “Excuse, please.” Rose Kirkland appeared in the doorway, pushing a heavily laden rosewood teacart, complete with a china teapot, linen napery, and covered dishes. She stepped to the side and waited for Rissa to make her way back to the bed. When Rissa sat and pulled her legs up on the bed, Rose reached behind her to fluff and place pillows. Rissa eased back onto the pillows with a grateful sigh and Rose smiled as she stepped back.

  “I thought lunch might be in order, so I took the liberty…” Rose let the words drift as she brought the tray closer.

  “Oh, how lovely.” Yvette cast hungry eyes on the tray as she rose to wash her hands.

  “Thanks.” Rissa smiled thinly, knowing that there would be no hotdogs or Milk Duds and popcorn on that tray for her.

  “Girl, I am going to have to get me one of those household ninjas,” Yvette said, slipping back into her chair and lifting the cover from one of the plates. Thinly sliced beef, homemade mashed potatoes with just the right amount of gravy, green beans, and baby carrots waited fragrantly, and she inhaled deeply. “It’s like she just slips through the air anticipating your needs. Yes, honey, I am definitely going to get myself a household ninja.”

  “Household Nazi is more like it.” Rissa frowned at her plate. Instead of beef, she had some kind of baked fish that she already figured would taste like cardboard. Not that the ninja wasn’t a good cook, she was a really good cook, but she was also following Dr. Stanton’s orders and doing everything she could to support Rissa’s newly prescribed bland diet.

  She watched Yvette uncover her dessert—Key lime pie. Mine will be fruit—probably applesauce.

  “Don’t be mean.” Yvette’s eyes rolled heavenward as she savored her mashed potatoes. “These potatoes are glorious, and you didn’t even have to ask for them.” Yvette’s fork was busy as she sampled everything on her plate, then went back for more.

  When she finally looked up from her plate, Rissa’s eyes were fixed on her. “If you’re going to stare at me, you could at least smile.” When she didn’t, Yvette laid her fork to the side and sat straighter. “Look, you’re getting the best of all possible worlds, and all you have to do is sit here and wait for it to happen. Instead, you’re glaring at me like I’m the villain in this piece, and I’m not, you know. What’s wrong?”

  “That I’ve been exiled to this crappy bedroom is a big part of what’s wrong.”

  Yvette’s eyes were quick to flit around the room. A pretty part of a small suite featuring garden-facing windows along two walls, the ‘crappy bedroom’ was bright and sunny, and the small bathroom, positioned only a few steps from the bed, was a bonus. Filled with classic Broyhill cherry wood furnishings and colorful bedding and cushions, it was easily the kind of space she would have begged to be exiled to.

  “Okay, now I really don’t get it. What’s wrong with this ‘crappy bedroom’?”

  Rissa sighed. “It was the household ninja’s idea. She heard Dench and me talking about my being confined to bed and thought that this room might make a nice change of scenery.”


  “Oh, that evil, evil witch. Let’s send her to the dungeon and have her boiled in oil.”

  “You’re an evil, evil witch.” Rissa sulked. “And this room might as well be a dungeon. My daily commute is from the bed I share with Dench to this room and back again.”

  “Your house has how many bedrooms? Five, six? You’re only on bed rest for a few more days, right? Choose another bedroom if you hate this one so much.”

  “I can live with this one until I see the doctor.” Rissa shrugged.

  “”My Lord, you’re just bound and determined to be contrary, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m just tired of being stuck at home. It’s fine when you’re here and I can focus on work. It’s okay, I guess, when Marlea or Libby are here, or even when Jeannette and Connie drop by. But when it’s just Dench and me…” Her lips twisted and she looked down at her plate. “When it’s just Dench and me, I want us like we were, but that can’t be.”

  “For now.” Yvette sipped her tea, then set the cup aside.

  “When I’m here alone, just sitting in bed and not working, then I get scared for what might have happened that night. What if it hadn’t been gas? What if Brenda Clarence hadn’t come along when she did?” Rissa sighed and fanned a hand at her partner. “I know, it’s silly, but I can’t help wondering.”

  When Rissa continued to push food around her plate without eating, Yvette pushed the tall glass of milk closer to her and watched her drink until the glass was nearly empty. “After the baby comes, things will settle. You’ll see.”

  “I know. We’re in a good place. In the meantime, I feel like I’m never going to have sex again. It’s been so long. What if I forget how to do it? Have you taken a good look at Dench lately? Oh, God,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. “He looks so good that I could just scream.”

  “He’s always been a good-looking man—I know, because I’ve been watching.”

  “Good looking? That’s an understatement.” Rissa moaned again. “Most men are struggling to get a six-pack, but after all the running and working out Dench has done lately, he’s got an eight-pack. Every time he steps out of the shower or I walk in on him dressing, I almost want to slap myself just to keep from jumping on him. Then, on top of that, there are all those other little sweet things that I love about him.”

  “Sucks to be you.”

  “You think? I remember Marlea talking about something that used to happen between her and AJ. How every time he touched her, she would…I mean her whole body would…Well, I promised I wouldn’t tell, but you get the idea. And now it’s happening to me. He looks at me and I’m so hungry for the man, I just want to rip his clothes off.”

  Across from her, the slice of pie was rapidly dwindling, thanks to Yvette’s judicious use of her fork, but she stopped eating long enough to appreciate her partner’s words. “I can’t imagine why he would mind that.”

  “He probably wouldn’t, except that the doctor says that I can’t do that. Sex is out for now—I told you that. We can’t even make out like a pair of teenagers—I might get too excited. She says that intercourse or even masturbation could cause my uterus to contract, especially in orgasm.”

  “And that would be bad, because?”

  Rissa’s shoulders sagged. “The contractions could pose a serious threat to the stitches of the cerclage, and I can’t put Faith at risk like that, Yvette. No matter what I want and how badly I want it, and I want it badly, I can’t do that to her.”

  “And daddy-to-be is walking around looking fine as all get-out, just tempting you.” Yvette shook her head in sympathy as her fork pressed against her clean dessert dish, collecting tender crumbs.

  “Fine as hell and humming Christmas carols. Did you notice that my whole house smells like a pine forest? Did you see the big tree next to my fireplace? Did he just forget about last Christmas?”

  “Last Christmas was a year ago, a whole lifetime ago. Besides, you were the one who made the vow about the trees, not him.” Lifting the cover from Rissa’s dessert, Yvette found applesauce and pulled a spoon from her place setting.

  “I knew it would be applesauce—I’m really starting to hate applesauce. Would you rather have more pie? I’m sure there’s more.”

  “Nope. I’m good, and the tree is beautiful. I saw it when I came in.” Yvette went to work with the spoon. “Go ahead and let him decorate it if that’s what he wants to do. It’s not like you don’t have something to celebrate this year.”

  “You’re right.” Rissa pushed her food away and picked up one of the folders she’d pushed to the side.

  “Aren’t you excited?” Yvette licked the spoon and set the empty dish aside. “Isn’t Faith Imani excited?”

  “Don’t start with me,” Rissa grumbled. “Faith has suddenly developed a preference for her daddy.”

  “You’re kidding. How can you tell?” Yvette’s raised eyebrows said most of what she would not allow to pass her lips. There was nothing wrong with a mother thinking that her child was exceptional, but most mothers at least waited for the children to be born.

  “I think she recognizes his voice. The second he gets anywhere near me, she starts her show, and she especially likes to perform at night—all night.” Rissa gave her belly a poke and frowned. “Mean little thing, she can apparently tell the difference between day and night and seems to prefer staying awake all night.” Rissa poked the mound resting in her lap again. “Don’t you know that I’m the one carrying you, and if I don’t get to sleep, things are not going to be good?”

  Watching, Yvette crossed her arms and legs. “What did she say?”

  Rissa stared down at her belly. “Nothing. She doesn’t seem to care about anything I do, unless I decide to go to the office. Then she spends her time generating untimely bouts of gas for me.”

  “Everybody has gas sometime or another. You’re in your eighth month. That’s when pregnancy is supposed to get easier.”

  Rissa’s shirt twitched and she looked down at it as the baby stretched and turned. “Faith Imani Traylor couldn’t care less.”

  “So cute when they do that,” Yvette laughed, reaching to touch the active baby. True to her mother’s words, the baby flipped and kicked, moving beneath Yvette’s hand. She cooed and clucked softly, and when her fingers tapped lightly, the baby kicked back, making her smile as she eased from her chair to sit on the side of the bed.

  “Is she dancing for you? We thought about getting lessons, but her talent seems to be natural,” Dench laughed from the doorway.

  Turning her face to him, Yvette hoped she wasn’t staring, especially when she felt the sloppy grin spread across her lips. Rissa was right, the man had definitely been working out, and it had definitely done his body good. Dressed casually, he wore his jeans and boots the way some men wore Armani. Framed in a shaft of golden afternoon light, he stood with one arm braced against the door, draped in careless confidence. Her grandmother would have said that he looked like “two drops of Lord Have Mercy,” and Yvette would not have disagreed.

  Shooting a quick glance to the side, she caught a flash of her partner’s face, and damned if Rissa didn’t look like a woman in love. Her nut brown eyes, already bright from the heat of her pregnancy, had gone soft at the sound of his voice. When Rissa lifted a hand to brush back the fall of her hair, Yvette caught sight of the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat and almost smiled. Yes, a man like Dench Traylor could make a woman’s heart beat faster.

  When he entered the room, Yvette felt her own heartbeat pick up, skip a beat. Bending to kiss Rissa’s cheek and to touch her stomach, he was so tender that Yvette heard herself sigh and tried to cover it by flipping through one of the files she and Rissa had already reviewed. When his forehead touched Rissa’s, and his hand stroked a long line down her arm, lingering at her fingertips, Yvette told herself that she could live a lifetime without that kind of connection.

  And I’d be lying like a rug. She watched him leave, waving her fingers in farewell. He�
��d barely cleared the door when she turned back to her partner.

  “Girl, that man is so close to perfect that I can’t stand it. If I thought I stood a chance with him, I would hate you.” She rested one hand on her breasts and sighed. “That bald head? So sexy.”

  “I know. Didn’t I tell you?” Crossing her arms, Rissa rested her cheek in her hand. “Can you believe that I picked a fight with him?” When Yvette shook her head, Rissa nodded. “Over the tree. When he insisted on dragging it in the house, I pitched a fit.” She could still hear his words.

  “Just stop, Rissa. I thought we worked through this, and I’ve had enough. We haven’t celebrated much of anything between last Valentine’s Day and now. We missed your birthday and mine. We missed Nia and Jabari’s birthdays, and I swear, if we hadn’t gone to Jamaica, I would have forgotten our anniversary. And now you’re determined to kick Christmas to the curb. Rissa, you’re humping your frustrations around and pushing all the joy out of our lives like you couldn’t care less.

  “You know that I love you like Jesus loved the church, but damn, baby. Enough is enough, and I’ll be damned if I’m giving up Christmas—even for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going Christmas shopping. I’m going to spend too much money, watch kids sit on Santa’s knee, and bring back a bunch of stuff in pretty boxes to put up under that tree. You can open yours if you want to, and I don’t care if you need it or want it. Christmas is coming to this house with you or without you.”

  “And when he left, he slammed the door. I swear, the door shook in its frame when he slammed it behind him. I couldn’t believe it. He said all that and never even raised his voice.”

  “Did he really go shopping?”

  “Yes. I never got a look at what he bought, I just saw him dragging bags and boxes from his truck.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Yvette shook her head. “You didn’t creep out there and sneak a peek?”