Dream Keeper (23 page)

“This is our little JJ,” Sierra cooed, kneeling beside Rissa. “Want to hold him?”

Sierra had him out of the carriage before Rissa could speak. Dressed in soft jeans and a cotton sweater that might have been meant for a child’s baby doll, JJ’s feet did a little stutter kick and he gurgled, the sound calling to Rissa’s soul. She opened her arms in self defense and felt love shudder through her when the baby’s solid warmth and weight curled close to her breasts. “How is it that he’s short and fat, with no hair or teeth, no job and no education, and I’m instantly and totally in love with him?”

“Don’t forget, he drools, wets himself, depends on someone else to do everything for him, and he can’t talk, either.” Sierra laid a hand on Rissa’s arm and smiled at her baby. “That’s baby power, girl.”

“Yes, I guess it is.” Rissa touched the tiny hand again and sighed.

“Oh, and look what he can do.” Not wanting to be left out, the new father moved the baby’s little blue blanket enough to expose a tiny perfectly formed foot. His finger looked large and capable when he stroked the sole of his son’s foot. The baby’s big toe flexed and the others fanned out while father and son smiled at each other.

“That’s called the
Babinski reflex
,” Jimmy announced proudly.

Sierra’s eyes went to the ceiling and she shook her head. “Every baby does that…”

“But they don’t all smile like JJ does when they do it.” Jimmy was defensive about his young son’s physical abilities.

“And he did it very well.” Reluctantly handing the baby back to Sierra, Rissa sighed again. “Well, come on back to my office and let’s see how can I help you guys today.”

Jimmy pushed the carriage as they followed her back to the office asking polite questions about her vacation as they dropped into the red chairs. Neither of them had ever been to Jamaica, and thought maybe it would be a good place to visit after Jimmy’s next bout.

“The island is isolated enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about reporters, and you have the resort option if you want it, or you could do a small house or a villa near the beach,” Rissa explained. “You’re not fighting Gervais Tabac until the end of November, so you have some time to plan.”

“Maybe your mom might want to come with us.” Sierra looked at James.

“Or we could hire somebody to look after the baby while we hang out.” He looked at Rissa. “Right?”

She shrugged. “All up to you, but that villa near the beach would be nice, so that you could go back and forth easily with the baby.”

“What did you and Dench do?”

“We stayed at a small resort and…” Rissa felt her temperature rise when she smiled and had a flashing image of landing in the water beneath Rick’s. “We just did the usual tourist stuff.”

JJ fussed and the parents sprang into action. Jimmy jiggled the carriage handle while Sierra adjusted the lightweight blanket covering the child. “He’s getting sleepy, so we need to get on our way.” Sierra turned soft eyes on her husband.

“We just wanted to ask a question,” he said. “That was our reason for stopping to see you.”

What kind of question couldn’t be asked over the phone?

“What can you tell us about adoption?”

She nearly choked. “Adoption?”

“Well, yes, because we figure that JJ needs a playmate.”

“Another little boy,” Sierra nodded, encouraging. “We think it would be nice if they were the same age. That way they could grow up together.”

The baby fussed again and when Sierra lifted him from the carriage, Rissa felt her arms open of their own accord and was a little surprised when Sierra relinquished him. Settling the child in her lap, loving his dependence and trust, she looked from him to his parents.
What the hell are they thinking?

“Adoption.” Rissa tried to inject finality into her tone and guessed she’d succeeded when Sierra couldn’t meet her gaze and looked away. “So far, you’re turning out to be pretty good parents, but you’ve only been at it for a couple of months. You don’t know what he needs yet. This little guy is not a puppy or a doll. He’s your son, and he needs some one-on-one time with both of you before you go adding another child to the mix.”

She looked down and was surprised to find JJ staring up at her, his mouth open and his gaze fixed. Holding him on her lap, loving the warm baby powder and milk smell of him, Rissa smiled at the adorable baby and would have given just about anything to have one just like him. The sudden moist warmth spreading across the lap of her Anne Klein skirt made her lift the baby and look down at the wet spot he left behind.

“Oh, my goodness.” Sierra was on her feet and pulling wipes out of her baby bag. Mortified, she grabbed the baby and handed him off to his father, who simply looked confused. “Change him,” the mother hissed. “I knew he was fussing an awful lot, and now he’s peed in her lap.”

“Coulda been worse,” James muttered, pulling out a disposable diaper. “You could have spit up, couldn’t you, little man?” The baby blinked and obliged his father, to his mother’s apologetic chagrin. James tried to smother a grin and went to work on his son’s needs.

Rissa took the towel Sierra offered and blotted her skirt. “See? That poor kid is too young to even know how much pressure he’s under—adoring parents and grandmother, being included in the BeaconGreen campaign, and now being potentially elevated to Big Brotherhood by anxious young parents. That’s enough to make anyone lose control. I think you need to back off, let time take its own effect, and wait to see if you’ll have another baby. Enjoy what you have before you run off looking for more.”

And maybe I should take my own wise advice
, she thought, feeling the floor slide from beneath her feet. Someone screamed and Rissa would never know who it was—fainting had a way of blurring reality that way.

Lying on the floor, slowly regaining consciousness, Rissa couldn’t remember how she got down there, or why all of these people were crowded into her office. Yvette waved something stinky under her nose.

Smelling salts?

“Is she conscious? Breathing?”

Who?
Fingers pushed at the base of Rissa’s throat.
Not me?

“Should I call 911 yet?” Karee’s face floated in the background.

“Don’t move her,” Jimmy counseled from his knees.

“Okay, but…” Yvette took another swipe with the smelling salts.

Ammonium nitrate.
The scientific name for the vile smelling stuff rushed into Rissa’s brain. Reaching to brush Yvette away, Rissa blinked and gagged.
Get that stuff away from me!

“Oh, Lord.” Karee sounded like she was begging. “Are we going to have to do CPR on her?”

“She has a pulse. You don’t do CPR when people have a pulse,” Yvette snapped.

“No, you need to call Dench. Her husband has a right to know if she’s conscious or not,” Sierra insisted, clutching her son to her breasts.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I would want to know,” Jimmy agreed.

Enough is e-damn-nuff,
Rissa thought.
And I’m going to swing on Yvette if she sticks that smelly stuff in my face again. They’re treating me like I have the vapors or like I’m…like…
Sitting up, Rissa looked at the faces looming over her. She could smell the baby, noxious vapors from the smelling salts, and the mix of floral and citrusy scents worn by the women in the room. The light coming through her large office window seemed unusually bright.

“Why am I lying in the floor?”

“You fainted.” Yvette’s hand threatened to swoop in with the horrible smelling salts again. “We think.”

Pushing to sit up, Rissa gathered herself. “I don’t faint.”
Or, at least I don’t normally faint. If I was going to faint I would have fainted when we jumped off that cliff. The last time I fainted, I was…
Sudden thought snapped her to attention. “I have to go home,” she said, ignoring Jimmy’s hand and scrambling to her feet.

“Let me get my keys, I’ll drive you,” Yvette began.

“No, that’s okay, thanks, anyway.” Rissa brushed off Karee’s offered hand and grabbed her purse. Heading for the door, she stopped to trace a single finger along JJ’s cheek. When the sweet baby smiled and cooed at her, Rissa took it for an omen—didn’t old folks say that babies always knew?

Looking up at Jimmy and Sierra, she shook her head. “You two need to let this little boy be a baby for as long as nature intends. When, if, it’s time to have another baby, then there’ll be a baby. I’ve got to go.”

Karee watched Rissa and looked worried. “Should she be driving?”

“Probably not.” Yvette pushed her lips together and looked at Karee. “Do you want to try to stop her?”

Karee lifted a hand and shook her head. “My mama didn’t raise no fool.”

* * *

“If I’m wrong, I am going to feel like the biggest fool in the Western world.” Rissa looked down at her shaking hands as she pulled the BMW into her garage. “But if I’m right…” She grabbed her purse and briefcase, carefully ignoring the small white bag sticking from the top of her purse.

Keys in hand, she closed her eyes and started to count, then stopped herself when her stomach fluttered nervously. “Trying to count weeks won’t mean anything if I don’t know for sure, and if I don’t get out of this car, I’ll never know.” The white bag crinkled when she moved, making her look at it, and she felt a wave of dizziness. “Damn it.” She snatched the bag from her purse and looked at it. “I’ll never know if I don’t check, and for better or worse, the answer is what it is.”

Palming her keys, she pushed the car door open and stepped free. Bumping the door closed, she ignored the slight tremor climbing her spine.
I stepped out on thin air and jumped off a cliff in Jamaica. I can do this, too.

Of course, you didn’t jump off that cliff alone…
She ignored the sweaty slickness of her shaking hand when she turned her key in the kitchen door lock. Stepping into her home, she settled her purse and briefcase on the granite counter and nearly dropped the white bag when she pulled it from her purse. “And I won’t be doing this alone, either.”

Refusing to be swept away by déjà vu, she grabbed the phone and headed for the small guest bath off her kitchen, punching in the number on the way. Holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, Rissa listened to the rings and opened her bag.
Why is it taking her so long to answer?
“Maybe, just maybe, this time…”

“This time, what?”

Rissa’s heart jumped at the sudden sound of her sister-in-law’s voice. “Marlea, I think I’m late.”

“You think? How can you not know? Rissa…”

Fumbling with the bag, Rissa dumped six slender boxes into the sink and stared at them. A random thought made her check the expiration dates.
All current—they should work.
“The waistband is tight on everything I own…”

“Rissa, you just got back from a vacation, so if that’s your only symptom…”

“Everything about me feels tender…” The sigh carried across the line and Rissa burst into tears. “I just passed out in my office,” she sobbed. “That’s new.”

“Hold on…” Marlea was tempted to say more, but dropped the phone and ran instead, grateful again for the love her children shared for Mrs. Baldwin. Running down the street, knowing that she was probably topping her medal-winning 400-meter time, Marlea burst through the Traylors’ side door.

“Where are you?”

“In here!”

Following Rissa’s voice, Marlea ran to the guest bathroom off the kitchen and snatched the door open to find Rissa sitting on the toilet holding the little plastic wand. Stunned, the two women blinked at each other.

“What are you doing?” they both demanded when they could speak.

“You were crying, I came to see if I could help,” Marlea said first. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The corners of Rissa’s mouth turned, holding desperation and determination.

“It looks like you’re…well…”

“I’m peeing on a stick, is what I doing.” Rissa hitched her skirt a little lower in a futile show of modesty. “And I’m going to sit here and pee ’til I’m pregnant. Get out, give me some privacy!”

“No problem.” Marlea stepped back and pushed the door closed. Leaning on the wall at her back, she waited and nearly fell when Rissa flew screaming out of the bathroom. Grabbing Marlea’s hands, she danced for joy. “Positive, three times in a row, positive! I’ll call Joyce, but this is good enough for me!”

“So maybe you and Dench didn’t need Jamaica after all?”

“Hell, no, all I needed was to pee on that stick. Jamaica was a bonus!” Rissa whooped.

Marlea looked down at their joined hands and gasped. “Did you even wash your hands? Ick! What kind of mother are you going to be!”

Dancing back into the bathroom, Rissa turned the water on full blast and laughed. “I’m going to be a fat happy pregnant mother, that’s what I’m going to be!”

“When are you going to tell Dench?” Marlea’s head came around the corner of the bathroom door. Rissa squirted liquid soap into her palms and looked down at her hands. Suddenly sober, she stood rubbing her hands together beneath the running water.

“You are going to tell him, aren’t you?” When Rissa didn’t answer, Marlea ran a hand over her sleek hair and nodded. “Look who I’m asking. Of course you’re going to tell him. AJ always says that you have a mouth like a sieve, and I know for a fact that you’ve never kept a secret in your life—especially not from Dench.” She crossed her arms and shifted from foot to foot. “When are you going to tell him, Rissa?”

“I guess I’ll tell him when he gets in and hope he won’t leave me,” she finally said.

“Leave you? Girl, don’t talk stupid to me.” Marlea propped a hand on her hip. “For a smart woman, you sure do get some crazy ideas. What do you mean, leave you?”

Rissa slapped at the wall switch and moved past Marlea, leaving her in darkness. “After all the drama I’ve put that man through, don’t you think he has a right to be tired of me?”

“Humph, maybe in another life. Clearly, you need to make an appointment with Chris Gordon—you have lost your damned mind.”

Sliding her hip onto one of the stools at her kitchen counter, Rissa rested her chin on her fist. Marlea stared until she offered her hand. “It’s clean.”