Dare to Dream

by Donna Hill

  “I’m sure he has his reasons. Although I fail to see what Cynthia would gain by hiding anything. After all, she lost her job, too—not that she really needs it, from what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen.”

  Desiree nodded in agreement. “Exactly.” She pushed out a frustrated breath. “It’s all just so ugly. I want it to be over so I can put it all behind me and move on with my life.” She chewed on her salmon. “And all those questions about her mother. What was that about?”

  “Got me. But your friend Allison said he was good, so let’s just let him do his job and not worry about it.”

  “You’re right. I hope Cynthia wasn’t too upset or offended by some of his questions.”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t. She seems like a pretty tough lady.”

  “Well, I’m going to go and see her tomorrow. We can talk then.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you before with everything going on, but I’m going to need to get back to The Port. I have some contractors coming in to discuss some work that needs to be done and I can’t do it by phone.”

  “Oh…when do you have to leave?”

  “Friday morning.”

  “All right. I’ll just stay here until you get back.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re coming with me. Until all this business is straightened out and Carl Hampton is where he belongs, you’re not getting out of my sight. No discussions.”

  “Lincoln, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure you will be, but you’re coming anyway. End of story.”

  She pursed her lips but opted not to protest any further. Truthfully, she was getting used to being with Lincoln again and she wasn’t ready for the spell to be broken.

  “If you insist,” she said, pretending to grumble.

  “Now, that’s how I like my woman,” he teased, “soft and pliable.” He ran his hand along the curve of her waist.

  “Oh, really now?” she tossed back. She put her food tray down on the floor next to the bed. Then on her hands and knees crept toward him like a lioness hunting for lunch. “Funny thing is,” she said, lowering the timbre of her voice, “I like my man just the opposite.”

  Lincoln’s devilish grin was filled with promise. “Hmm.” He pulled her toward him until she was stretched out along the length of his supine body. “Then we’ll have to do something about that. Won’t we?”

  “Yes,” she purred, flicking her tongue across the warm flesh of his chest. “We will.”

  * * *

  “I think we need a bigger shower,” Lincoln said over the rush of water. He languidly spread body wash across Desiree’s back and rubbed it with a soft sponge.

  She turned to face him, pressing her soapy breasts against his chest.

  “I like the intimate feel of this one.”

  He pointed the shower head in her direction and she slowly turned in a circle to rinse off.

  “Whatever the lady wants.” He held his face up to the pulsing water and let it splash all over him.

  Desiree stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel hanging on the warming rack. As she passed the towel across her face she was no longer standing in Lincoln’s bathroom in Manhattan. She was in their old apartment in Fort Green, Brooklyn… .

  She was in a hurry as usual, rushing to get ready to go see a Patti LaBelle concert at Lincoln Center. It was Valentine’s Day.

  She and Lincoln hadn’t been out for months. Between his work and her schedule they’d hardly had the time or energy to do much more than have dinner and fall into bed at night.

  “We need a break,” Lincoln had said weeks earlier as they’d snuggled in bed, thankful for the body warmth against the chill of the frigid outdoors that constantly knocked against their windows begging to get in. “And you need to take it easy in your condition.”

  She peeked up at him from above the tip of the down comforter that was up to her nose.

  “Oh, you mean the condition you put me in,” she teased. “You sound just like my grandmother. I’m only four months pregnant, not disabled. Women work right up until the last minute these days.”

  “That’s all those other women.” He pulled her close and placed his hand on her rounded belly. “My woman is special. And just to show you how special…remember how many times you told me you wanted to see Patti when she was in concert?”

  She sat up, the chill forgotten. “Zillions.”

  “Well, I have two tickets for her special Valentine’s Day performance at Lincoln Center.”

  “Get out!” She beamed in delight and planted a big kiss on his lips. “See, you are a decent guy. I don’t care what the National Enquirer says about you,” she said, laughter ringing in her voice.

  “Am I the greatest or what?” he joked, pulling her even closer.

  “Hmm, let me check,” she said as her head disappeared beneath the covers.

  The days leading up to the concert flew by, and before Desiree realized it, Valentine’s Day was upon her and as usual she was unorganized and behind schedule.

  She fished through her lingerie drawer for a pair of stockings, only to find one lone pair with runs.

  “Damn it!” She checked her watch. They were scheduled to leave at seven. It was already six and if she knew Lincoln, he’d be ready to walk out of the door in a half hour.

  She contemplated wearing a pantsuit to cover the runs, but of course she hadn’t made time to stop at the cleaner’s. She’d run out of options and was running out of time.

  While Lincoln was in the shower, she put on her coat, grabbed her purse and darted out. She could get a pair of cheap pantyhose from the corner store and be back in a flash.

  Her next-door neighbor’s five-year-old son, Sean, was forever dropping one of his action figures in the hall or on the stairs. Desiree generally made it a point to be on the lookout and had on more than several occasions spoken with Sean’s mother about it with only intermittent results.

  Tonight her mind was on getting to the store and back before Lincoln started with his impatient pacing. That and a long-overdue night out on the town with her man. She didn’t see the black Hot Wheels racing car on the third step. And the next thing she knew she was sliding down the stairs. She grabbed the banister to try to break the fall and felt every muscle in her belly scream in protest as her back made contact with the steps on her way down.

  Miraculously she didn’t go down head over heels. For several moments she lay on the next-to-last step, terrified, expecting the worst. She pulled in long, slow breaths and gingerly rose to her feet, using the railing for support. She took the final two stairs with caution.

  On solid ground she made a mental assessment of her body, inch by inch. Her heart was racing out of control and there was a dull throb in her back and she was sure she’d bruised her knee. She pressed her hand to her stomach and felt the telltale flutter of life deep in her womb. She released a relieved breath. Her baby was all right.

  Taking her time now, she went to the store, picked up her stockings and came back to the apartment.

  “Where were you?” Lincoln asked, running a towel across his face as Desiree walked into the bedroom.

  “Had to pick up some stockings.”

  “Well, we need to step on it. You know how tough it is to park around there.” He looked at her for a moment. A frown creased his forehead. He stepped closer to her. “Are you feeling okay? Your face looks strained. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine. Really. It’s just that I know how much you don’t like to rush and I need to get ready, that’s all.”

  He stared into her eyes. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go. Nothing’s more important to me than you and our baby.”

  Desiree forced herself to smile and pressed her fin
ger to his chin. “You worry too much. I’m fine. Now let me go and get ready.”

  The next thing she remembered was the sound of sirens and looking up into Lincoln’s worried face as they rode to the hospital in an ambulance.

  “You’re going to be all right, Desi,” he murmured over and over. He stroked her brow as another cramp tore through her stomach.

  But she wasn’t fine and she’d never be fine again.

  * * *

  “Earth to Desiree, earth to Desiree.”

  Desiree moved the towel from her face, and the room came back into focus. “Huh?”

  “A towel, could you pass me one?”

  “Sure. Sorry,” she said absently. She wrapped her towel around her body, tucking it beneath her arms and walked out of the bathroom.

  When Lincoln came out he found her sitting on the side of the bed staring into space.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked gently, sensing that she was on the verge of slipping into the private sanctuary of her mind where she shut out everyone and everything, including him. It had ruined their relationship once, when they didn’t confront it head-on. Not this time.

  “Talk to me. Whatever it is.” He tightened the towel around his waist and waited. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

  Desiree glanced up at him, clear-eyed and resolute.

  “I was thinking about the day I lost the baby.”

  His stomach muscles tightened. He didn’t move. He wanted her to talk.

  “I’ve always wondered, if I had told you right away instead of pretending that everything was fine, would the baby have had a chance?” She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know and I guess I will never know. But what I did to you was wrong. I shut you out and grieved alone as if your loss was not as great as mine. And I lost five years of being able to be loved by you and me loving you back.”

  By degrees his tensed muscles began to relax. He walked toward her, took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “It’s like I told you, baby, we have the rest of our lives to love each other.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I intend to use every minute of it.” He tickled her side until she giggled. “Except for the next few hours. I have some business to take care of at the bank.”

  “That’s fine actually. I wanted to visit Cynthia anyway.”

  “I’ll drop you off on my way and you can call my cell when you’ve finished your girl talk and I’ll come and pick you up.”

  “Let me give her a call and make sure she’ll be home.”

  Chapter 39

  Probably the last thing she needed to do today was meet with Desiree. But she couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse, especially after telling her how much they needed to get together and catch up. Besides, Desiree said that she and Lincoln would be heading back to Sag Harbor for a few days. Had she said no, it would have seemed odd and definitely suspicious.

  Cynthia glanced at the statue that she’d put on her dresser. As much as she didn’t want to believe it, the statue was one of Desiree’s creations. Her signature was on the bottom.

  She remembered when it had been purchased. Desiree took it off the inventory the very same day as the fire. Why did her mother have it? What was her connection? She didn’t want to imagine. But what kept her up all night long was a recurring nightmare. She was standing atop a great mountain. Below was her mother being chased by an angry mob—all the people she’d walked over, used, or ruined. Her mother was running toward her, trying to get up the mountain to safety.

  Within her grasp, Cynthia for the first time had the power to decide her mother’s fate. If she reached out her hand, she would be saved. If not…

  In some versions, Cynthia rescued her mother and Eleanor showered her with all her withheld love and affection and Cynthia reveled in it.

  In other versions, she simply stood there, motionless, and watched her mother become engulfed by the crowd that ran after her.

  Cynthia looked down at the statue that she gripped in her hand. Every fiber of her being told her that her mother was somehow involved in the destruction of the gallery that nearly cost Desiree her life.

  She had a choice to make, a choice that would permanently change the course of her relationship with her mother.

  * * *

  “Okay, call me when you’re ready for me to pick you up,” Lincoln said as he came to a stop in front of Cynthia’s building.

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Yes, sir. See you later, sir.”

  “Very funny. Enjoy your visit.”

  Desiree hopped out and waved as she watched Lincoln drive off. When he was out of sight she went to the front door and rang the bell.

  “So tell me about this guy you met,” Desiree said as they sat together on the couch.

  “I actually met him at a bar.”

  “You—at a bar! I didn’t know you drank.”

  “I don’t. Not really.” She reached for her iced tea from the coffee table. “Anyway, by the time we actually met I was pretty wasted. He had to bring me home.”

  “Cynthia, you’re kidding. You got so drunk that you let a perfect stranger bring you home?”

  Cynthia squeezed up her face and nodded. “I know. Stupid, right? I could have been a statistic.” She took a swallow of her tea. “Anyway, he brought me home, left his number, and I called him the next day. We went out to dinner the other night.”

  “Hmmph. Is he cute at least?”

  Cynthia giggled. “Yeah, in a Clark Kent kind of way.”

  “Well, you know Clark Kent has that Superman thing going on. So watch out.”

  They laughed.

  “Enough about me. What’s been going on with you?”

  Desiree sat back against the couch cushions and in a bunch of fits and starts she brought Cynthia up to date on all that had occurred with her rekindling her relationship with Lincoln.

  “Wow. Guess you two are meant to be together.”

  “I think so, too,” Desiree said. “I just want all of this business with the fire and the investigation to be over and done with.” She slowly shook her head. “Arson…what kind of person does something like that?”

  Cynthia fidgeted in her seat. “Uh, have you heard from Carl?”

  Desiree’s gaze darted in Cynthia’s direction and then away. “I understand he’s in the Bahamas,” she said, avoiding the question.

  “Bahamas! With everything that’s going on? Don’t you think that’s kind of strange?”

  “I don’t put anything past Carl,” she said, the disgust obvious in her voice.

  Cynthia frowned. “Did something else happen with Carl?”

  “Nothing that I want to talk about at the moment.” She sipped from her glass and stared out the window.

  Finally Cynthia spoke, breaking the silence. “What are your plans? I mean what are you going to do about your work?”

  Desiree shrugged. “I’m just past the nightmares,” she said in a faraway voice. “I haven’t been able to paint.” She shrugged. “So…I really don’t know. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to go back to it without feeling like I want to scream.” She stretched, then checked her watch. “I need to call Lincoln.”

  “You can use the phone in the bedroom.”

  “Thanks.” She got up and walked toward the bedroom.

  She entered the room and spotted the phone by the bed. She sat on the side of the bed and punched in Lincoln’s cell phone number. While she waited for the call to connect she looked around the room and suddenly her entire body went cold.

  Sitting on top of Cynthia’s dresser was the statue from the gallery. The same one that the woman purchased—the day of the fire.

  Her heart began to thump as images ran rampa
nt in her head and her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all.

  “Hello? Hello? Desi.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly walked to the dresser.

  “Lincoln,” she whispered and peered toward the partially opened bedroom door for any sign of Cynthia.

  “Desi, what is it? Are you all right?”

  “The statue…”

  “What statue? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s here in Cynthia’s bedroom. The statue from my gallery,” she hissed.

  “I’m not understanding you.”

  “It’s the same statue that the woman bought that day. The same woman we ran into in Sag Harbor who swore she didn’t know me. Why is it here?”

  “I’m coming for you right now. Don’t say anything to Cynthia. I’ll call Jackson. I want you to leave. Now. Meet me outside.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, suddenly more afraid than confused. “I’ll meet you out front.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Desiree hung up the phone just as Cynthia poked her head in the door.

  “Did you get him?”

  Desiree swallowed. “Yes, uh, he said he was in the neighborhood. He’ll be outside in a few minutes.”

  Cynthia frowned. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

  “I’m fine. Just getting a headache.”

  “Oh, let me get you something.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t trouble yourself.” She hurried out of the room, took her purse from the couch and turned to Cynthia. “I’ll call you when I get back.”

  Cynthia gave her a long look. “Sure. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “Take care,” Desiree said.

  Cynthia’s hand suddenly covered hers. “You do the same.”

  Desiree’s heart leaped to her throat. “Thanks. Bye.”

  * * *

  Cynthia watched as Desiree left the building, knowing that what had sent her running was what she’d discovered in her bedroom.

  Slowly she closed the door. Desiree was an intelligent, resourceful woman. Cynthia had no doubt that if she hadn’t put the pieces together already she would very shortly. And when Desiree did, Cynthia would be prepared.