“Why did we just do that?” Sierra squeezed her eyes together, then stretched them wide.
“For the Dream Keeper.” Sandra blinked rapidly and waited for her vision to adjust.
Sierra put her hand out in front of her and felt her way across the room to sit next to Sandra. “What’s a Dream Keeper?”
“A photo album, right?” Marlea grinned when her mother-in-law nodded. “Rissa and AJ both have them, and AJ’s is going into volume six. Does this one have the little silk bag with it?” Sandra nodded again and Marlea’s grin widened. “We keep adding to the little bags with AJ’s Dream Keeper. It’s where he keeps his high school and college class rings. We added mine when we got married. He even added a shoelace from the first race I ran after my accident. And then Mom made one for Jabari and another one when Nia was born. Rissa is going to love having this.”
“I’m going to add this picture and all of the ones we took over Christmas. This is what I have, so far.” Sandra pulled the book from an oversized leather tote. Covered in pale pink silk, the book was already several inches thick. Opening the cover, Sandra smoothed her fingers over the first page and looked up with a gentle smile. Seeing the look on her face drew the other women close enough to look at the page. A small card, embossed with a tiny garland of roses framed the announcement of a baby girl’s birth.
“This is for Rissa’s birth.” Jeannette laughed when Sandra smiled. “Hard to believe she was ever anybody’s ‘little bundle of joy.’ ”
Connie nudged her hard. “Girl, you don’t tease a mother about her child like that. Any pictures to go with the announcement?”
Happy to oblige, Sandra turned the page.
“Oh, my goodness, look at her!” Chubby, toothless baby Rissa sat happily in the middle of the page wearing a frilly dress, lacy socks, and white high-topped shoes. “She hasn’t got five hairs on her head. How did you get that big bow to stay on?”
“Scotch tape,” Sandra replied proudly. “What did you think? That I was going to staple it on?”
“Girl,” Connie whispered, “I told you about teasing mothers.”
“All I’m saying is that she has all that hair now. Who would have thought she would have been a bald-headed baby?”
Sandra glared and Connie hid her mouth behind her hand. “Jeannette, you’d better hide your eyes before she blinds you with her heat vision.” She giggled when Jeannette looked away quickly.
“Anyway,” Sandra finally huffed, “this book is actually for the baby, so that she’ll always know that she was special and the dreams that keep her special.” She turned a page and displayed an eight-year-old Rissa in pink tutu and ballet slippers. Next to her, resplendent in his full Pop Warner football gear, was a photo of ten-year old Dench. “She’ll know that they always had dreams and hopes.”
Sandra turned another page: Rissa in a red and white jersey and shorts, with tube socks pulled to her knees, holding a basketball. Dench, sitting formally in full uniform, with a hand resting on his helmet. The next page held several pretty photos of Rissa dressed for formal dances and parties. Dench and AJ were shown together, standing stiff and reserved in suits, holding corsages—proms and homecoming dances. “She’ll know that they had to learn what she had to learn.”
Other pages showed Rissa and Dench dressed for summer jobs, and with friends. There were shots of Rissa on her high school debate team and a few of her law school mock trials. More photos of Dench chronicled his rise from player to coach. “She’ll know what her parents have learned to value.”
When she opened the recently developed holiday photos and began to slip them into place, all of the women, even Martha Baldwin, cooed softly. The pictures of Dench and Rissa standing in the glow of the huge Christmas tree made them sigh, but the shot of him fastening the pavé diamond heart at the back of her neck brought tears to their eyes.
In the picture, fast-talking, quick-thinking Rissa had bowed her head and lifted her hair, her eyes nearly closed, leaving her vulnerable to the man who stood behind her, and Dench stood frozen in time, focused and protective. Sandra had captured the moment, but good fortune had captured the couple in a golden haze of reflected candlelight, softening the moment even more. “She’ll see this one and know that her parents dared to dream, that she has always been loved, and that love is worth having.”
It was a good shot, but Sandra knew that she had an even better one. She turned the page and lifted the next picture, turning it to expose what had been a simple photo—maybe the best one she’d ever taken. She’d had the snapshot enlarged, and loved it even more. At her side, Marlea gasped as she dropped her hand to her mother-in-law’s shoulder. Sandra had managed to find Rissa and Dench in a private moment.
In a small chair, with the emerald dressing gown she’d worn on Christmas draped around her, Rissa sat with Dench kneeling before her. With their joined hands cradling the rounded firmness of their creation, she looked into his eyes with the passion and expectancy of a madonna, and gazing up at her, his face was framed in fierce devotion. Humor and something undeniably beautiful passed between them at the exact second her mother pressed the button on her camera. Every one of the women looking at this one perfect moment knew that there would be other photos for this little family, but nothing so telling and exceptional as this one.
“She’ll see this one and know why they chose her name and the hope that they will always have for her.”
“And we’ll be in the book, too,” Sierra breathed. “She’ll know that friends are worth having.” A tear fell and she sniffed loudly. Dropping her head to Libby’s shoulder, she sniffed again when Libby hugged her. “I want a Dream Keeper for JJ, too. I’m going to start as soon as I get home.”
The other women made soothing sounds as Sandra put the book away, and they settled around the table. Marlea moved to the head of the table and cleared her throat. “I’m glad we’ll all be a part of Faith’s book and her life, but I wanted you all here this morning for another reason, and we have to finish before Rissa gets back.”
“I told you I didn’t see her car when we drove up.” Jeannette’s elbow hunched Connie sharply. “Where is she?”
“Rissa is at the office—she’s only going in twice a week for a half day right now. In fact, I watched her car roll down the street when AJ and I were coming in. She won’t be gone long, so this little meeting has to be quick.”
“What about Dench?”
“He’s up at Flowery Branch. They didn’t get to the Super Bowl, but two of his players will be in the Pro Bowl and Rissa is pushing him to take the nod for coach.”
“This has been a big year for them.” Libby’s eyes glowed when she folded her hands together. “Any coach would love to get that kind of nod from his peers. Coaching for the Pro Bowl is a big deal.”
“But Dench doesn’t want to miss the birth of this baby.”
Connie sucked her teeth. “Do you blame him? After all it took to get to this point? I know that I don’t blame him even a little bit.”
“So, this is about a shower, right? What are we going to do for a shower?” Libby demanded. “She needs one, and he deserves the celebration.”
Connie frowned. “I’m a little scared.”
“It’s not your baby.”
“Doesn’t matter, Jeannette, this is not easy.”
“Which is why we’re not going to call it a shower.” Marlea raised both hands for attention when the curious women muttered and shifted in their seats. “We’re going to call it a good night with people who love her and Dench, and want to see them through to the end. That will work, so I came up with this.” She pushed a stack of shiny brochures across the table toward the other women. Together, they flipped the thick papers open and smiled.
“This is so exotic, I don’t know why none of us thought of it.” Sandra’s forefinger tapped the corner of her eye as she gave the menu another check.
“It says here that they will provide the décor and staff for an authentic experience. If we can get h
er down there, she’ll never get up off those cushions,” Connie giggled.
“They’ll wait on her, hand and foot. She won’t have to.”
Libby cocked an eyebrow at Marlea. “Did you forget how often you went to the bathroom when you were pregnant?”
“Oh, and there’s a belly dancer, too.” Martha looked interested. “You all know Rissa, she’ll have to try dancing.”
“And probably send herself into active labor,” Rose Kirkland decided. “It’s a good thing you two are nurses.”
“I’ve never done this outside of a restaurant. How does it work?”
“Oh, I love Ethiopian dining.” Sandra turned to Sierra and took her hand. “The guests are seated on a low comfortable divan or on cushions and a mesab, an elaborate handmade wicker hourglass-shaped table with a designed domed cover, is set before them. Then someone, usually a tall, stunning woman dressed in a shama, brings a long-spouted copper pitcher in her right hand, a copper basin in her left hand, and a towel over her left arm. She pours warm water over the fingers of your right hand, holding the basin to catch the excess, and you wipe your hands on the towel that hangs over her arm. When she finishes, the mesab is taken out of the room and returned shortly, with a second domed cover. She removes the dome and this time, the table is covered with what looks like a gray cloth overlapping the edge of a huge tray. The tablecloth-like thing is the injera.”
“It’s the what?” Libby looked completely lost.
“Injera is the sourdough pancake-like bread of Ethiopia,” Sandra explained. “Food is brought to the table in enamel bowls and portioned out. When the entire injera is covered with an assortment of stews and other dishes, you tear off a piece of the injera, and roll the food into it like a huge cigarette. Then just swoop it up and pop it into your mouth.”
“Maybe a couple inches wide, like a little square mini-fajita?” Libby took little comfort from Sandra’s wise nod.
“I’ve got the staff of the Blue Nile on hold.” Marlea fanned one hand at Libby and covered the phone with the other. “Pick a menu. I know that AJ and I love the doro wat and the sega wat and…” The other line beeped in her ear. “I’m sorry,” she said to the Blue Nile’s event planner. “Another call is coming through.” She tapped the button and the line changed.
“Marlea? This Yvette Trask, and I’m pretty sure you can cancel that shower-thing.”
Marlea’s stomach clenched and she turned to see her mother-in-law watching her. “What’s going on, Yvette?”
“I would have called sooner, but she just told me. Her water broke. Rissa’s having contractions and they are about three minutes apart, lasting about thirty seconds or more, and she’s been having them for the last thirty or forty minutes. We’re headed to the hospital—I’m driving.”
Marlea’s eyes went wide. “On the way.”
Sandra stood and took steps toward Marlea, but was still too slow to catch the phone when Marlea tossed it and ran for her coat purse and keys. Libby caught the phone in midair.
“Call Dench and AJ,” Marlea called over her shoulder. Sierra and Rose Kirkland pulled cellphones from their pockets and Martha Baldwin began reciting phone numbers from memory. Anticipating, Connie and Jeannette jumped down from their chairs and grabbed their purses and coats. They had the side door open when Marlea ran past them.
“So what’s going on? Why are we in such a hurry?”
“Rissa’s in labor, dummy.” Jeannette swung into the front seat of Marlea’s car as she gunned the engine. Connie fell into the back seat with Sandra Yarborough and managed to get her legs in and the door slammed shut as the car roared down the driveway.
* * *
Dench scrubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. AJ’s voice startled him.
“Nervous?”
“Dude, there is no way that word can tell you how I feel right now.” Dench sucked in a big breath and released it in a huge, almost solid rush. “I go in there and come out with a baby.”
“She’ll be little, man. You’ll have years to get nervous. I’m still gearing up for the first time my son plays ball or takes a hit on a football field.”
The corner of Dench’s mouth ticked. “But Faith is a girl.”
AJ clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiled. “Then you get to be her hero for a while before some hardheaded boy comes along to break her heart. You’re going to be a hell of a dad, dude. Go on in there and do right by your ladies. I know Rissa is waiting.”
“Dude.” Dench brought the knuckles of his right hand up to meet AJ’s, and somehow the gesture wasn’t enough. Leaning in, not caring if anyone saw him, Dench opened his arms to hug the man who had been his friend and his brother for so long.
“Go on in there and take care of my sister and my niece,” AJ whispered, releasing his brother-in-law.
Turning away and making the brief walk down the hall gave him little time to think. Dench gave thanks for all that he had. This time, his wife was conscious. This time, he would be with her. This time, their baby would…He refused to think farther as he pushed the door open.
The birthing suite was large. Brightly painted walls, healthy green leafy plants, and cozy oak furniture made it homey and not at all antiseptic. Complete with television, DVD player and a state-of-the-art birthing bed and monitoring equipment, the ambiance was wasted on Rissa. Her lap covered by a pale pink blanket, she sat up with her hands propped against her knees, biting her lips.
“Praise Jesus,” Yvette all but screamed, jumping up from her bedside chair and freeing her hand from Rissa’s grip. “She’s waiting for you, Dr. Stanton is on the way, and I swear this woman has been holding this baby hostage waiting for you.” Catching her purse and coat on the fly, she headed for the door and took only a moment to glance back. “Good luck,” she whispered and eased from the room.
“Well, I’m here now.” Dench stepped close and pressed his hand against Rissa’s. She looked into his eyes and smiled, just before she levered his fingers into a death grip. Surprised by her strenghth, he bit back the gasp as pain surged through his hand. No wonder AJ cried every time Marlea did.
“Where’s the doctor?” Rissa’s eyes were suddenly wide and panicky.
“On the way, but I’m here.” Shifting slightly, he moved behind her and began to massage her back, feeling tension run through his hands when she sighed and began to breathe deeply. Like they said in that class…
Mouth wide, Rissa moaned deeply, making Dench work faster. Where the hell is that doctor?
“It’s time, Dench. I’m ready to push.”
Does it really happen this fast? “Rissa…”
“Hey all.” Alexis Stanton breezed in fully dressed for the occasion, all smiles. Dench wished the nurses with her would disappear so that he might strangle her in private. The nurses didn’t disappear, and the doctor gave him no chance to act on the intention as she rushed him off for preparation. Making quick measurements from the foot of the bed, she smiled over her shoulder at him. “You’d better hurry, though, this little girl can’t wait to meet you.”
She shows up late and now she’s rushing me? I might strangle her AND the nurses!
Forty minutes later, Dench changed his mind. Faith Imani Traylor rested in his hands, warm and perfect. Dr. Alexis Stanton would live to deliver other babies.
“You did it, baby. You really did it.” Wonder filled his face and voice when Dench looked up at his wife. Standing, he held the quivering, squalling mass of his infant daughter and looked into the eyes of the woman he’d always loved.
“We did it, Dench.” Rissa yawned, smiled and closed her eyes.
“Rissa?”
Her name was a whisper, but her eyes popped open and her arms reached. “Can I hold her now?”
“In a minute…” one of the nurses began. She stopped and took a step back when Dench glared at her.
“I’ll be quick.” Rissa proudly counted fingers, toes, eyes, and ears, then nodded, letting Dench pass the baby to the nurse. R
issa and Dench watched their baby cleaned and warmed, while magic hands helped Rissa into a fresh gown and changed her bedding.
Across the room, the baby was weighed and measured. Dench wanted to know if Faith’s seven pounds was correct. The two women exchanged amused glances when he grinned at her twenty-inch length. When they offered to let him hold her again, he promptly drew the room’s rocking chair close enough to the bed for Rissa to watch and opened his arms.
“Are you okay?” he finally remembered to ask doting Rissa.
“Sleepy and hungry,” she replied softly.
“We brought food.” Marlea’s face in the doorway made them smile. She held a wicker hamper in front of her like a peace offering. “We left Connie and Jeannette parking my car, but since we brought food, can we see the baby?”
AJ pushed in behind her. “My niece.”
“My new granddaughter.” His mother’s hands at his back nearly made AJ run over Marlea. Paying them no attention, Sandra left her son and daughter-in-law to sort themselves out. They like falling over each other, she thought as she threw her red coat over the back of a convenient chair. First things first.
Managing to get through the door, Marlea and AJ rushed to Rissa’s bedside. When the nurse placed the baby in Rissa’s arms, they stared breathlessly until Sandra pushed between them. She held out her arms and Rissa carefully passed the infant to her. Cradling the baby, Sandra wordlessly flipped back the little pink blanket and inspected the tiny fingers and toes. She peeked under the little pink cap and nodded. Bald, just like her mama.
“She’s perfect.” Holding the child toward her daughter, Sandra was surprised by how reluctant she was to release her. Because she’s a miracle, Sandra decided. Because she’s proof that dreams come true. Swallowing tears, she kissed Rissa, then Dench, and touched the baby’s pink cap. “She’s just perfect.”
Dream Keeper Page 34