“Well, thank God.” Dench collapsed onto the stool next to her. “With you fainting and all, I was thinking…” He stopped and looked at her, his next words slow and considered. “Positive? Really? When?”
“The stick said positive, but I don’t know.” Rissa blinked and shrugged. “Evidently it happened before we went to Jamaica. We’ll know more after I see Joyce.”
“Jamaica?” Dench’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. “Oh, God, Rissa, are you all right?” His large hand shoved his Falcons cap back, then settled it on his head. Shading his eyes with one hand, he looked at her. “The jump, baby. Are you…”
“Fine,” she assured him. “I know I said that last time, but really, if anything was going to happen, I think we’d know by now.”
“And now you’re going to be a daddy.” Marlea opened her arms, catching them in her embrace.
“Aw, baby.” AJ kissed the top of his sister’s head and joined the group hug, wrapping his long arms around them all. “Good luck man, even if you did throw my sister off a cliff.”
“Dude, she jumped.”
Satisfied to be in the middle of all the love, Rissa’s kiss caught the corner of Dench’s smile. “Dude, you’re going to be a daddy.”
Chapter 17
It was more than nice to have the morning to herself, and appreciating the sterling silver tea service on her desk, Chris Gordon had every intention of making the most of her leisure. Her tray already held the pot of tea when she added warm cranberry orange muffins on a dainty china plate, and she was still debating the strawberries and crème fraîche when the telephone rang. A little disappointed by the intrusion, she took a deep breath and lifted the receiver.
Her breathless caller barely gave her a chance to speak, so she listened politely. When Rissa Yarborough Traylor paused, the therapist jumped in: “It sounds like you’ve got quite a lot going on. I have some time this morning. Would you like to come in?”
Rissa was still thanking her for the opportunity when someone knocked on Chris’s office door.
Now, who in the world could that be?
“Rissa, could you hold on for just a moment?” Chris set the phone down and crossed the room. Pulling the door open, she blinked and fell back a step. “How did you…?” She looked from Rissa to the phone on her desk and back again. Tilting her head, she blinked. “Why did you…?”
“I was in the parking lot when I called. I thought I should take a chance that you were free.” Sheepish, Rissa displayed her cellphone, then folded it into her palm. “May I come in? Please?”
She’s wearing that suit like armor, Chris noted, stepping back from the door. The mandarin collar of Rissa’s long-sleeved olive green suit was buttoned all the way to the base of her throat, and the sleek pencil skirt grazed her knees, just inches above the highly polished shafts of her tall black boots. Whatever is going on with her, she doesn’t intend to let it do her any damage.
Rissa took her usual chair, perching on the edge of the seat. She crossed her legs and folded her hands into her lap. She’s ready to run or fight, and she doesn’t care which one she has to do to protect herself.
“Have you eaten?” Chris smiled and tried not to jump ahead as she approached her desk. “How about some tea? I have several herbals, including chamomile, my personal favorite.”
“Chamomile is fine.”
“And a muffin? They’re cranberry orange, and I was just about to indulge myself when you called.”
“Yeah, a muffin is fine, but about that call…” Rissa worked her phone from hand to hand and looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to just…”
“Nonsense.” Chris flipped a hand and set another cup on her tray. “I’m glad to have the company.” Watching as she poured, Chris noticed Rissa’s teeth closing on her lip and the nervous pump of her booted foot. Her keen eyes saw the trembling hand that accepted the china cup.
The silvery tinkle of Rissa’s spoon moving against the fine china followed Chris across the room to the small refrigerator secreted in what had once been a closet. “Could I tempt you with strawberries from the Farmer’s Market? They’re beautiful and I have crème fraîche to go with them…”
Rissa’s head came up. “Crème fraiche? I love crème fraîche.”
“So do I.” Chris brought the small bowls back to her desk and sat patiently while Rissa served herself. Breaking her muffin, sipping her tea, she waited.
When Rissa finally reached the bottom of her bowl, she licked the back of her spoon and sighed. “That was delicious. Thank you.” She set the bowl and spoon on the silver tray, and suddenly remembered her now cool tea. She took the cup and saucer in hand and sat looking at them.
“You don’t have to drink that, you know.” Chris took another cup and lifted the silver teapot. “I can pour you another…”
“No, that’s okay, I’m fine.” Rissa drank quickly, then set the cup and saucer aside. Looking at Chris, she twisted her lips and sighed, then crossed and recrossed her legs when the odd little tremor in her belly coursed along her inner thighs. “I’m not fine,” she finally said. “I’m not bad, but I’m not fine.”
Chris raised her eyebrows and folded her hands on the desktop.
“I’m pregnant, and that’s good.”
“I thought your figure looked fuller.” Chris nodded and smiled. “I guessed as much.”
Biting her lips, Rissa tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ears and stared at the floor. “I took a home test a few weeks ago and it was positive. I went in to see my doctor…”
“Joyce Ashton.”
“Yeah, her. She confirmed the test, did some others and she figures that I am right at sixteen weeks.” Rissa’s eyes came up for a second and dropped again. “You know Dench and I went to Jamaica in August and now this. I guess more than the weather changed in September, huh?”
“So you were pregnant when you went to Jamaica. What a lovely surprise.”
“Surprise. Yeah, you could call it that.” Rissa laughed softly and she sat back in her chair, pressing her knees close. “I mean, I’ve always had irregular periods. That’s just normal for me, but I’ve been totally healthy so I didn’t really pay any attention. Then, I’m suddenly fainting and pregnant.” Her eyes wandered and Chris sensed the tears that Rissa refused to shed.
“So you turned up here.”
“I did.” Rissa used the back of her hand to whisk away quick tears. “I came here because I couldn’t think of a better place to go. I needed to hear myself say some things out loud and I couldn’t let myself put Dench through it.” Her eyes flashed upward, gathering and holding Chris in her gaze. “He hasn’t called you, has he?”
“No, he hasn’t. And this is not something I would ever discuss with him, not without your permission.”
“Good,” Rissa sighed. “Well, Joyce said that I have an insufficient cervix. Do you know what that is?”
Caught off-guard, Chris plucked at the collar of her pink shirt and looked thoughtful. “Isn’t this the condition that caused the loss of your…”
“Yeah. Anyway, that’s what I have.” Rissa sighed again. “She recommended that I see a colleague of hers, and I’m going to do it—this time. I even went back to my office and spent an hour looking her up on the internet. Her name is Alexis Stanton, and she’s supposed to be tops in her field.”
“This makes you feel not even the least bit better.” Chris nodded when Rissa shrugged, then twisted her hips in her chair. “Do you want to tell me why?”
“No.” Rissa took a deep breath and shifted again. “No, I don’t really want to tell anyone, but it’s one of the reasons I came here today. This is the doctor I was referred to…the first time. If I had done what I was supposed to, when I was told to…”
“There is an old saying that applies perfectly here. ‘If IF was a fifth, we would all be drunk.’ ” Chris pushed her lips together and frowned. “Rissa, that was then, and this is now—a completely different set of circumstances. You’ve been referred to someone who will hel
p you to give your unborn child a fighting chance and you’re acting on that referral. Beyond that, has it occurred to you that this entire process is out of your hands? That as much as you wanted a child, you couldn’t will one into existence, and now that you are expecting, you will need to turn yourself and this baby over to the care of another person?”
“And it’s not Dench.”
“No, it’s not Dench, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll stop loving you or that you two won’t have a wonderful life.”
“I know that.”
“I know you do, it’s just that sometimes we all need a little bit of a reminder, just to stay on track.”
“Is it reasonable for me to say that I’m scared? I mean, I’m thrilled, but in the back of my mind I just can’t help remembering…” She uncrossed her legs and sat with her feet flat on the floor. “I can’t help it.”
“You’re entitled to be unsettled by this new development. You don’t have to be in charge of everything.”
Rissa made a face and sat forward in her chair. “Apparently I am in charge of nothing. Did I tell you all this happened after I made a wish on a falling star in Jamaica?”
“No,” Chris laughed. “No, you didn’t, but I’ve heard that mysterious and magical things can happen on the island.”
“Oh, for real? Did I tell you that Dench and I jumped off the cliff at Rick’s Café?”
Chris’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “No, you never wrote that on the postcard you sent. What was it like?”
“Life affirming,” Rissa grinned, standing.
“That’s a very good term, and I think you should remember it the next time you feel afraid.” Chris stood and gave her arm a squeeze.
“You’re right, I just want to check one more source before I make a real commitment.”
“You’re pregnant. That’s pretty committed, if you ask me.”
“You have a point, but just for peace of mind…”
“Whatever it takes,” Chris agreed.
The words sank into her heart and Rissa could still hear them an hour later as she pulled her BMW into the lot at The City Grille. When she handed her keys to the uniformed parking attendant and stepped from the car, the little quiver that raced through her belly teased her thoughts. Wonder if I should start telling people that my unborn baby has been trying to communicate with me. The little rush tapped her adrenaline again. Guess that’s a no.
Sidestepping single-minded Georgia State University students, she made her way across the street to the City Grille’s glass-enclosed brass- and marble-accented foyer. As much as she’d hated plowing through city traffic to get back downtown, it was worth it to have lunch in such elegant surroundings, even though the two Grady Memorial Hospital nurses were on duty and could only get away for an hour.
* * *
“At least here the food is worth the trip.” Connie flipped her napkin open and dropped it into the lap of her green scrub suit.
Feeling obviously out of place in her scrubs, Jeannette pulled her sweater closer and hid behind the menu. “Everything looks good—especially when you’re dieting.”
“It’s that new man.” Connie lifted her eyebrows wickedly and whispered, “Whatever it takes.”
“He’s not that new.”
“He’s new enough that you’re still trying to find ways to keep his eyes on you.”
“Can you make her stop,” Jeannette begged, blushing. “She’s always teasing me like this, and it’s getting old.”
“Stop fighting, children.” Rissa dropped her elbow to the table and cocked her head. “Let’s use our indoor voices and act like adults because it seems to me that since I’m the one paying for this lunch, I should be able to get a word in edgewise.”
The nurses pressed their lips together and looked at her. Blinking, Connie raised her eyebrows and waited. Jeannette was not as patient. “What did you want to say?”
“Before I say anything, I want you to promise that what we say here stays here, that you won’t say anything to Marlea or AJ, and you cannot tell Dench. Whatever you do, you can’t tell Dench.”
“Are you running around on Dench?” Jeannette hissed. “After that second honeymoon? How could you?”
“Don’t be silly, she’s not running around on him.” Connie crossed her arms and flopped back in her chair. “It’s a baby’s mama, isn’t it? Who would have thought that Dench would have a baby’s mama lurking in the shadows?”
“I’m serious.” Rissa’s hand slapped the table and made both nurses jump. “Fools, nobody is running around on anybody, and the only baby’s mama Dench has is me. Now, just promise me you won’t tell.”
“Oh.” The nurses sat back, appraising. Connie narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re pregnant again?”
Rissa nodded. “Four months.”
“Are you going to ask about the baby’s sex?” When Rissa shook her head negatively, Connie huffed. “What about the baby’s heart rate? You know if you look at the fetal heart rate, you can predict the gender of your baby. The old saying is that if it’s above one hundred forty beats per minute, it’s a girl, and below that, it’s a boy.”
“Don’t push. If they don’t want to know, that’s their business. I’m betting Dench was thrilled.” Jeannette handed her menu to the young woman who materialized at their table side. “Seems to me that all the hard work has been done. What’s the big secret you want us to keep?”
Rissa focused on her meal order. When the waitress left, she glared at the two nurses. “I thought you were my friends.” The tremor was tiny but definite, and sympathetic? “What I need from you now is advice, not abuse.”
“Aw, honey. Come on, we were just teasing. We’re sorry.”
“What do you need?” Jeannette pulled her chair closer.
Cautious, Rissa shook her head. “Not until you promise that you won’t say anything.”
Connie looked at Jeannette, then Rissa. “Us, not say anything? How about you not say anything?”
One look at Rissa’s face nearly silenced Jeannette. “Not a word,” she promised, and Connie nodded.
“I need to know about a doctor. Her name is Alexis Stanton.”
Food arrived, and they waited for service to be completed before Connie spoke. “Isn’t she the fertility specialist?”
Rissa nodded, and both women turned when Jeannette cleared her throat. “Don’t you remember when Mavis Lawson had all those problems? She went to Dr. Stanton, and now she has two totally rotten spoiled kids. Oh, and didn’t Elizabeth Winder see her, too?”
Connie’s fork stopped in the air and recognition painted her face. “She did. I remember Alexis Stanton now. She spoke at the National Black Nurses Association conference last year—pretty impressive, too.”
“Her articles have appeared in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology, and her practice is devoted to women’s general health, pregnancy, labor and childbirth, prenatal testing, and genetics. The procedure she’s best known for is cervical cerclage.” Jeannette squinted, trying to think. “That’s what Elizabeth Winder went to her for.”
Rissa held her breath when both nurses looked at her. “Why are you asking us? Didn’t your doctor make a recommendation?”
“She did.” Rissa pushed her fork through her food and suddenly the orange sauerkraut, gruyère cheese, and roast duck topped with orange ginger dressing that she usually lusted for lost its appeal. She settled for picking at the accompanying rye bread.
“Well, good luck getting an appointment, because she’s tops in the field.” Jeannette lost interest in her food and poked her fork into Rissa’s. One taste of duck, and she switched their plates, abandoning her scallop-topped watercress salad, with its chanterelle mushrooms and creamy Dijon sauce.
“There goes the diet,” Connie grinned, turning her attention back to Rissa. Digging into her purse, she produced her cellphone and punched in a number. Eyes on Rissa, giving her best impersonation of discretion, she murmured into the phone
, copied a number, and punched it into the phone. She murmured again, nodding all the while, then passed the phone to Rissa. “Talk to her.”
Almost afraid to refuse, when the mild tremor rose from her stomach to her breasts, Rissa took the phone. “Hello?”
“Yes, Dr. Stanton here. Are you Mrs. Traylor?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” Rissa’s wide eyes locked on Connie. How did you do this? she mouthed. Connie blew on her nails and proudly polished them against her scrub blouse.
“Congratulations on your pregnancy. I understand that you have a referral and that you’d like an appointment.”
“Yes. Yes, I would.” Rissa clutched the phone in both hands and willed herself to something other than the word ‘yes.’ “I’m wondering what your earliest availability would be.”
“It happens that I have a cancellation at four. Will that work for you?”
“Four? Today?”
“Yes, today.” The doctor’s laugh was musical. “I know they say that you have to wait months for an appointment with me, but little accidents do happen. My four o’clock is still fogged in at Kennedy, leaving the slot available for you—if you want it.”
“I do. I’ll be there. The Prado, right?” Rissa gripped the phone harder. “If you…can you add me to your patient load?”
The bell-like laughter chimed again. “Consider yourself in. I’ll see you at four.”
“At four,” Rissa echoed, folding the phone closed. Connie was diligently studying the dessert menu, but paused long enough to blithely take the phone from Rissa’s hand. When the nurses looked at her, Rissa brought her palms together in brief silent prayer. “I have an appointment. How did you do that?”
“It’s not always what you know, it’s who you know.” Connie turned her attention back to the waitress and returned the menu. “I’ll have the chocolate lava cake,” she breathed reverently.
“And I’ll share it with her,” Jeannette grinned, wiggling her fork.
“The hell you will—she’ll have her own.” The waitress smiled and Connie frowned. “I mean it.”
Rissa grabbed her bag and stood. “Thanks guys. It’s almost three now and I’ll have to make it around the perimeter to be there on time. Connie, I can’t thank you enough. Thank you from me and Dench—and the baby.”
Dream Keeper Page 26
