Dream Keeper (32 page)

“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 her 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. Rissa 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.”

Suddenly all business, Sandra pulled at her sweater to straighten it and stood. Crossing back to her bag, she pulled the ancient Kodak Hawkeye free and screwed in a flashbulb. Checking the exposure, she smiled when she set it, then passed the camera to the waiting nurse. “Press here when I tell you.”

She crossed the room and gave her children, all of her children, a critical glance. “We have one more thing to do. Stand here, AJ. Marlea, you’re here. Dench, sit here with Rissa and the baby, and I’m here.” Satisfied, she turned three-quarters front, her best position. “This is for Faith’s Dream Keeper. Okay,” she nodded to the nurse. “Everybody say, ‘dream.’ ”

The flash caught them smiling, sharing a dream for posterity.

EPILOGUE

One year later…

“This is so not the typical ‘date with my husband,’ but I have to tell you that I like it,” Rissa murmured when the Air Jamaica plane flew low over the northwestern coast of the island. “Isn’t it funny how quickly life changes? The first time I was here with you, I became a wife. The next time, I became Faith’s mother. What do you think will happen this time?” She smiled.

“You mean besides needing to find a place to change a stinky little girl?” Dench held the baby away from his body and wrinkled his nose when Faith cackled merrily.

“Watch a pro at work.” Rissa shifted her tote to the other side of her seat and took the baby. “What do you want to bet that I can finish before we land?”

“Can’t be done.”

“Bet me, or I’ll give her back to you.” Rissa touched her nose to the baby’s and they laughed together. “Watch Mommy take Daddy’s money,” she whispered, and the baby cackled again.

“Whew, I’ll take that bet!” Dench dug into his shirt pocket and found a twenty. He held it out and Rissa’s fingers snapped it from his hand. Working one-handed, she flipped the baby in her lap, unsnapped the romper, and managed to simultaneously wrangle the diaper, wipes, and powder. The baby gurgled and Rissa convinced the flight attendant that the plastic wrapped bundle was not toxic.

“See? We’re still in the air.” She handed the baby back to her father and rested her head on his shoulder when the plane dipped on the air current as it circled Sangster International airport.

“Guess you win.” He looked down as Faith curled against his chest and closed her eyes. Warm, soft and trusting, she smelled like baby powder and he was grateful. “Lucky me.”

Rissa pushed her hand into his and smiled as the plane landed. “Lucky us.”

Walking into the Immigration Hall, Dench couldn’t help feeling pride in his wife: tall, slender, strong, and beautiful. “You’re making life look easy these days, buying Yvette out, handling the larger caseload, and finding time for this little getaway.”

“And don’t forget Faith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He was thoughtful as they approached the passport control station, then looked at her again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Dench?” Rissa raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “You picked a fine time to ask me that. I’m pregnant now. There will be no turning back. And I expect a Super Bowl win this year—it’ll help me secure that raise for you because we’ll be putting two children through college when the time comes.”

“Dude, I’ll do my best. Doing that Fox pregame show is going to take up a lot of time…”

“And don’t forget the fundraising work you promised AJ and Marlea that you and the team will be doing for Project ABLE.” She bumped him with her hip. “So we’ll commute, because I’m not going for that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ stuff.”

“It’ll have to work, dude, because I need you like the ocean needs the shore, and I’m not going far without you.”

“Sweet talker.” She bumped him again and laughed when he bumped her back.

The handsome bronze-skinned man at the counter smiled when the couple reached him. Eyes on Rissa, he considered flirting with the pretty woman, even though he saw the rings on her finger. Then he looked at Dench and reconsidered. Even with the sleeping baby in his arms, this one looked like he could read minds—and wouldn’t hesitate to act on what he found. The immigration officer made his face blank and held out his hand for their passports and immigration forms.

“Clearance was quick,” Rissa whispered, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the noise in the terminal, when she and Dench walked hand-in-hand away from the counter.

“Maybe he didn’t want to hold us too long, what with the baby and all.”

“Sierra Clarence calls that Baby Power.” She laughed lightly.

Exchanging some of the cash he carried for Jamaican dollars took only a few minutes. Dench handed her the wad of bills. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Still trying to buy my affection?”

“Can I still get it for a penny?” He jammed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a single penny. Placing it in her palm, he kissed her.

“Sold,” she whispered, dropping the money into her tote.

“You not honeymoonin’ this time, are you?” The voice, strong in its island lilt, happy in its certainty, made them turn. “You have the little one with you, I see.” The easy question and answer came from a full-bodied woman in a floral dress. The island lilt of her voice and bright flash of her white teeth were an invitation to smile, even before she winked at them.

“The same woman?”

“Looks like, but…”

“ ’Course I’m the same and I remember you, but I see some things have changed with you,” the woman laughed, looking around Dench’s shoulder to see the baby’s face. “She’s pretty like her mother and her daddy.”

Starting from his feet, the woman let her eyes wander, looking hard at Dench. “Looks like the honeymoon worked.” Approval apparent, her eyes lingered on his, and she held his gaze until he looked away. Still watching, obviously admiring, she pushed a bunch of vividly deep red and yellow hibiscus blooms into Rissa’s hands. “For luck,” she said. “Though I already told you, you’ll never need it with this one.”

Laughing, their impromptu hostess fluttered her loose flowery skirt and danced a few steps. She bowed as Rissa took her picture. When Rissa showed her the digital frame, the woman’s laughter simmered lower. “You let me take one of you now.”

Handing over her camera, Rissa moved close to Dench and the baby. The woman nodded and looked into the viewfinder. Satisfied, she clicked the shot. “You put my picture away with vacation souvenirs. But this one is for you, Dream Keeper. This man, this baby, this is the dream you keep forever.”

“I will,” Rissa promised when the woman smiled directly into her eyes.

The woman melted into the crowd and Rissa looked into the green and gold flecked eyes she loved. Her hand smoothed the baby’s hat and then her husband’s shaved head.

“She called you the Dream Keeper.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Rissa’s hand slipped to Dench’s cheek and she loved the firm feel of his skin against her fingers. “I mean that, you know. You are my dream, and I’m keeping you forever because I love you like Jesus…”

“…loved the church,” he finished with his lips on hers.

“And that’s good enough for me.”