Dream Keeper (Indigo)

by Gail McFarland

  Goodness knows how they would have treated me if I’d walked in here with a wool coat and suit on. She edited the thought and turned her chair to look out over the Buckhead skyline. The weather sure did turn quickly—coats, jackets, and gloves at the end of February, and summer suits in the middle of April. Oh, well, that’s life in Atlanta. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back in the chair, denying the cold lump of anguish rolling like an iced marble in her belly.

  So much has happened, and in such a short time. I remember Dench asking if I wouldn’t rather have a kitten. No, I told him, I want a baby. Wonder if I would still have the kitten. But we’re making a new start…Let it go, Rissa, let it go…

  She had no idea how long she sat like that, thinking and knowing that she had to move at some point. When her line buzzed, her jangled nerves pumped adrenaline through her body, making her jump. Realizing the source of the sound she hit the speaker button on the phone.

  “Hey, Rissa. Mr. Clarence is here for his appointment.”

  James Clarence? His appointment isn’t until…Rissa’s eyes flew to the watch on her wrist. Eleven-thirty? Where did the time go? She turned her chair fully toward the desk and tried to sound normal. “Thanks, Karee. I’ll be right out.”

  Haunted by her lost time, Rissa pulled her jacket on and pushed her briefcase and purse under her desk with her foot, and almost laughed at herself. For a minute, I almost forgot what I was doing. He’s here to review the contract for his next fight. She pulled the paperwork out of her desk and crossed the room to place it on the table between the red chairs. Looking over her shoulder, checking on herself, Rissa left her office and nearly ran over Yvette.

  “Now look,” the feisty little woman began, “I’m going to need for you to watch where you’re going, put on a blinker, sound a horn, or something…” Her voice dropped and her eyes evaluated Rissa. “Are you all right? Honey, do you need me to take this for you? If…”

  The concern in her voice sprinted along Rissa’s spine like fast flame on a fuse, setting her temper afire; the words that hissed past her lips when she turned on her partner surprised even her. “Let me tell you what I’m going to need: I’m going to need for you to stop creeping up on me, trying to treat me like an invalid—ever notice the spelling on that word? It’s the same as the word that means ‘not valid’, and there’s nothing wrong with me! When I need you to handle anything for me, I’ll let you know!”

  “Rissa, I didn’t think…”

  “Damned straight, you didn’t think. If you had, maybe you’d get out of my face and give me a minute to breathe. I don’t want or need your pity, Yvette. That’s my client out there, I’ll handle him. I don’t need you monitoring my mail, my clients, or my productivity. I’m a partner here. I helped build this agency. When I can’t hold up my end, you can buy me out. Until then, leave me the hell alone.”

  Watching Rissa stalk away from her, Yvette finally released the breath she’d held, but her feet wouldn’t move—they couldn’t. Blinking, feeling almost as if she’d been slapped, she knew something was terribly wrong and she didn’t have a clue how to fix it.

  At the other end of the corridor, Rissa’s fingers went to the wall when she paused for a moment. Feeling Yvette’s eyes on her back, she refused to look over her shoulder. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself and smoothed a hand over her gray pinstriped skirt and jacket. Satisfied that she at least looked peaceful, she rounded the corner and stepped into the lobby. Jimmy Clarence stood the second he saw her, and she smiled.

  “Hey, Rissa, how are you doin’,” he drawled.

  “How do I look?” She imitated his drawl.

  “You look good.” He grinned. “Oh, and this is from Mama.” He offered a large white bakery box. “She said to tell you that she didn’t feel like making chicken soup, but a red velvet cake ought to make you and Dench feel better about everything.”

  “Thank you.” Rissa had to force the weak smile to stay in place as she accepted the box. “I’ll have to call your mother to thank her. Come on back to the office.”

  Leaving the cake on her desk, she sat with Jimmy and struggled to keep her lost child out of the conversation as they reviewed the contracts and the notes she’d gotten from his trainers. Together, they checked all of the caveats and she made the necessary amendments. When he approved the final condition, Rissa gathered all the sheets for reprinting.

  “While Helen is finishing the contract for signatures, would you like coffee or something else to drink?”

  “Nope.” The boxer leaned back into the depths of his red chair and grinned. “I don’t know if Sierra and I ever said thanks.”

  “Thanks for what?”

  “For setting me straight.” Jimmy flashed white teeth. “You and Dench both said that by the time the baby got here, my mother would be all right with my marrying Sierra.” His grin went sideways and the boxer looked like a twelve-year-old. “You were right, both of you.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Mama’s so proud of this baby that she woke us up this morning with breakfast and then she baked that cake for you. She started an endowment for the baby last week, said she wanted the best for her first grandson. Then she said she hoped he was just the first of many.”

  “Would I be out of line for saying, ‘I told you so,’ only because I did?” Rissa tried to ignore the boxed cake when she walked to the mini-fridge built into her wall of bookcases. She pulled out a cold bottle of water and twisted off the cap. “Sure you don’t want one?”

  “No, thanks.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “Sierra saw the paperwork on that little policy Mama started, and I thought she was going to go into labor right then. She started crying and making plans…” His voice dropped, the words dying on his tongue. “Oh, damn Rissa…I’m so sorry.” He stood and walked to her, pleading his case. “Look…I didn’t mean to bring up any…uh…”

  “It’s okay.” She turned the bottle up and gulped water until he turned away.

  Etching the line of his brow with his forefinger, Jimmy looked lost. “Sierra told me that I should wait to see you, and I guess I should have. I mean, this can’t be a good time, with you all…vulnerable…and all.”

  “I’m fine.” Where does he get off, calling me vulnerable? “We’re here for business, let’s just handle this and get it over with.” Rissa twisted the cap back on the empty bottle and moved toward her desk. Coding the phone, she hit the speaker and waited. “How much longer, Helen?”

  “On the way.”

  “Uh…I wanted to come and see you, but Sierra said we should send flowers and wait.” Jimmy blinked when Rissa’s chin dropped and she leaned against her desk. “We were both sorry when we heard.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy.”

  Helen tapped at the door and pushed it open without waiting for invitation. Rissa knew relief like she’d never experienced before. With whispered thanks, she took the contract copies from Helen and rushed Jimmy through their signing.

  On the final page, Jimmy scrawled his name and laid the Mont Blanc pen aside. Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked lost. “I guess that’s it, then. I should be going.” He moved toward the door and pulled it open. Halfway through, he turned and looked at Rissa. “I just wanted to say…I…I’m sorry you lost the baby.”

  “Me, too, Jimmy.”

  Water filled her eyes and she never saw the door close as he left the office. The first determined tear broke free, fell and stained her blouse—after that crying became easy. Folding her arms on the desktop, she dropped her head and succumbed to fifteen minutes of heartsickness. She might have indulged in more, but for the buzz of her phone. Swiping at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, she sniffed before answering.

  “Rissa, I have a call holding for you. It’s the attorney from BeaconGreen. Shall I put him through?”

  Rissa knew her sigh carried over the phone and wished she could take it back. “No, Karee. Please take a number and I’ll call him la
ter.” She disconnected the call and stared at the phone. Who knew, maybe she really would return the call. Reaching under the desk, she pulled her purse free. Digging for tissue and a mirror, she tried a little positive self talk, and gave up when she felt the tears well up again. She found the mirror and tissue but the phone rang before she could use them.

  She saw that it was her personal line—family and friends only—and dropped her purse back under her desk. Not wanting to answer, she let it ring three times before relenting. Clutching the tissue and the shreds of her dignity, she picked up the phone.

  “Rissa, hi!” Libby Belcher, Marlea’s former coach, was on the line and Rissa could have slapped herself for ever giving her the private number.

  The last thing I need right now is overweening good cheer. “Hi, Libby.”

  “I’m in Phipps Plaza, right down the way from your office, and I thought I could take you to lunch…if you haven’t already eaten?”

  “Oh…Libby…I…can’t make it today. You know how it is, just getting back to work and all, maybe another time.” Rissa closed her eyes and prayed that the lie would suffice.

  “Well,” Libby drew the word long. “Maybe another time, then.”

  “Yes. Another time, but thanks for the offer.” Rissa hung up the phone and looked at her watch. It was barely one o’clock on an endless day and all she’d accomplished was the signing of a contract and pissing her partner off.

  “But this is a new start, and I can do this.” She flipped open the mirror she’d left on the desk and went to work with the wad of tissue, trying to erase the ravages of her tears. She bent and jammed her hand blindly into her purse for lipstick and mascara. She didn’t feel much like putting the stuff on, but it was expected.

  She looked down at her blouse; the tearstained silk was drying but still obvious. She pulled at her jacket until she was satisfied that the worst of the spotting was covered. Then she brushed her fingers over her hair and pushed away from her desk. Concentrating on her breathing, she picked up Jimmy Clarence’s contract and almost called Karee to pick it up, then decided to walk it to the front herself. “I can do this.”

  At the desk, Karee looked up in time to see Rissa walking toward her. She leapt to her feet and rushed around the desk and accepted the contracts. “Oh, Rissa, I could have come back for that.”

  “Not a problem.” Rissa looked around, surprised at the general quiet around her. “Where is everybody?”

  “Yvette wasn’t feeling well, so she left for the day. Helen is out, filing some stuff at the courthouse.” Karee walked back around the desk and sat. “The interns are at the library, and we still close at three on Fridays.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “I guess I’ll go back and put my nose to the grindstone, then, do a little catch-up work.” Walking back to her office, feeling Karee’s eyes, Rissa felt a lick of shame at the things she’d said to Yvette. I hurt her feelings. She never leaves early, and she left early today because of me.

  Knowing that she would have to apologize, Rissa closed her office door and headed for her desk. The cake James Clarence delivered still sat on the corner of her desk, and she reached for the box. Lifting the lid, she peeked in—the cake was a high, creamy frosted work of art. I should have given this to Yvette. She likes cake. Maybe she would forget enough of what I said…maybe she would forgive me for a cake like this.

  Rissa closed the box and pushed the cake away. I need to get some work done. That was my reason for coming in today. She opened a desk drawer and looked at her pending files, then spent the next two hours reviewing contracts for two players who were unhappy with their teams. One of the men was due to become a free agent this year, and all she had to do was keep the other one out of jail—that was enough to keep anyone busy.

  Running her fingers through the new, longer hair edging her neck, she read through the files and tried to focus on a game plan. The harder she tried, the foggier her thoughts became. It’s all that time I took off, that and the argument I had with Yvette today. She turned a page in the file and tried to make notes, but her focus was off. Her stomach rumbled and ached a little. Maybe if I eat something, I’ll feel better. I’ll get Karee to pick up a sandwich for me. She touched the speaker and tapped in Karee’s extension. The phone rang six times, and cut off. She tried again, and still no answer.

  Going to the door, she was surprised to see the space beyond her office cast in afternoon shadow. “Karee?” No answer made her check her watch—four-fifteen. “And the office closed at three,” she remembered, stepping back into her office.

  Knowing the sandwich was out of the question, she found yogurt in the mini-fridge and silently blessed Yvette for saving her from starvation. She licked strawberry yogurt from the container lid and tossed it into the trash. Digging into a drawer, she found a plastic spoon. Eating slowly, pacing herself, she tried to think her work through to a logical conclusion—though logic didn’t seem to be her strong suit today.

  For all the good I’ve done this week, I could have stayed home. For all the damage I’ve done today, I should have stayed home. Trying not to think, she spooned more yogurt and almost choked when the phone rang. “Karee must have set them on night mode.” She picked up the phone and barely opened her mouth.

  “Rissa?” Jimmy Clarence was more than she could take right now and she almost hung up when she heard his voice. “Rissa, please! Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” she said, against her better judgment.

  “I thought it was my phone,” he shouted, breathless and nearly incoherent in his excitement. “We just got here! The hospital, we just made it, but we’re all here!”

  “Jimmy, that’s great.” Her stomach cramped.

  “All of us, Rissa. Sierra, my mother, me, and James Jr.”

  Thick air clogged her throat and for a second, the room shimmered around her. Swinging an arm behind her, she found her chair, and managed to sit before she fell. “The baby is here?”

  “He came at exactly four-fifteen. We almost didn’t make it.” The boxer laughed. “Everything happened at once: Sierra’s water broke, we got in the car, we got here, we got a baby! Sierra, man, she was like a champ—she wasn’t in labor ten minutes, and Rissa, you ought to see him. I’ve never seen anything like him.”

  The strawberry yogurt soured in her throat and Rissa nearly gagged. Fighting for control, she closed her eyes and held the phone in both hands. “That’s wonderful, Jimmy. Congratulations. How is Sierra?”

  “She’s here. Here, baby.”

  The phone was passed from hand to hand and Sierra’s soft voice came through. “Well, Rissa, we did it. He’s here.”

  “Congratulations, Sierra. I can’t wait to see him. What does he weigh? How long is he?”

  The new mother’s pride was broadcast over the cellphone. “He’s seven pounds, eight ounces, and he’s twenty inches long—a lot of baby for me! I’m kind of prejudiced, but I think he’s the most beautiful baby ever born, but you’ll see him soon. Here’s Jimmy…oh! You and Dench never gave us an answer, and the baby is here now.…” She yawned. “Let us know soon.”

  “Soon…”

  The phone passed again and Jimmy was on the line. “They’re bringing him in now, Rissa, and I think my mama is gonna pass out from sheer joy. We’ll call you later.”

  Hanging up the phone, Rissa swallowed bitterness and wanted to cry again. Instead she turned to her computer and switched it on. When the system booted fully, she did a search for the prewritten press release. The document came up and she inserted all the details, then saved it to Karee’s file. Karee would be in for her half-day tomorrow; she could send it out first thing in the morning.

  Tonight though, James and Sierra Clarence would hold their baby in their arms. And I’ve got a cake. Sierra would be able to touch, kiss, and cuddle her child. Elbow propped on the desk, Rissa clamped down on the pain she felt leaking into her soul and refused to think of what Sierra and James Clarence must be feeling right about now—about
the feelings she and Dench had been denied.

  Intentionally numbing herself and ignoring the white bakery box on the corner of her desk, Rissa reached for her purse and fumbled until she found her wallet. Pulling out a credit card, she turned back to the computer and hit the internet. Clicking on the search box, she searched for flowers. When the sites came up she selected a bouquet and ordered it, then did the same thing for a layette.

  Determined to keep moving, to stay busy, she scribbled a note to herself. Be sure to visit tomorrow. She almost added a time, then hesitated. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for the new family; maybe a visit should be postponed. Her stomach twisted on a bit of unbidden angst and Rissa suddenly felt empty, a husk of a woman, and she wished again that…but it wasn’t meant to be. She logged off the computer and swung her chair around to look out the window at the sky darkening over Buckhead.

  “Why her? Why not me?” Tears stung her eyes and she felt guilty but justified in asking for an answer. “How did this happen?” She heard the anger in her voice and her soul ached when she questioned everything she’d ever believed in. “I don’t smoke, I quit drinking when we started the fertility testing. I’ve never had an abortion. I guard my health better than the government guards Fort Knox.” The threatened tears fell and Rissa heard the hysteria in her voice even as she set it free. “Why? I waited all this time and then I lose what’s mine. All this time and all I get is a damned cake.”

  Her ragged breath tore through her chest when she looked at the cake in its white bakery box, and she hated cake baking Brenda Clarence. Half rising from her chair, Rissa grabbed the box and threw it across the room. The smashed cake, the soiled box, and the smell of chocolate sickened her.

  “Why does God hate me so much? Why is He punishing me, denying Dench? Why?”

  Folding her arms, she dropped her head to the desktop and gave in to anger and frustration. Silent weeping gave way to sobs and wet, heaving breaths as her passion and pain unraveled. On her desk, her phone rang, and she knew it was her private line but didn’t answer—the last thing she needed was an ebullient Jimmy Clarence sharing more good news. Her sad, jealous tears flowed heavier.