Dream Keeper (Indigo)

by Gail McFarland

  “I told you I didn’t. Besides, the household ninja helped him hide them. He’s determined to have his Christmas.”

  Yvette shook her head again. Bending, she began to collect the files she’d brought with her. Rissa handed her the ones stacked at her side on the bed and watched her fit them into her briefcase. When she finished, she marched to the closet and pulled her coat out. She pulled it on and began silently buttoning it.

  “What?” Rissa finally asked.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” Yvette’s fingers stopped moving and her eyes held Rissa’s. “Talking about, ‘He’s determined to have his Christmas.’ That man is determined to have your Christmas, fool. He’s determined to make a memory with you, show you some promise for that little girl you’re carrying—and he’s going to do it if he has to carry you through the holidays, kicking and screaming every step of the way.”

  “Maybe I have a reason for feeling the way I do.”

  Rissa’s voice sounded so suddenly and completely haunted that it caught Yvette by surprise. “Reason? Like what?”

  “Like maybe…you know, we never really talked about the baby I lost. It wasn’t like with Faith. She’s real, she has a name, and whether you believe me or not, she has a presence. She’s already a part of our family. That didn’t happen before and…and I don’t know how he feels about it.”

  “It sounds like he’s put his faith in you and God.” Yvette sucked her teeth and planted a hand on her ample hip. “It sounds like he’s happy with your foolish behind and like he understands that he can’t remake the past. It sounds like he’s ready to throw your old ‘jinx’ theory out and get on with making the future as good as it can be for his family—and that includes you.”

  “So I’m the Grinch, huh?” Rissa tugged a pair of pillows behind her and flopped back on them.

  “Call yourself whatever you want. Just stop trying to steal that man’s joy.” Yvette tossed her scarf over her shoulder. “And how about you find a little private joy and quit moaning about what you don’t have and what might have been? Be grateful for what you do have with Dench. Share that with him.”

  “What do you propose that I share with him?” Pushing her bottom lip out, Rissa was the picture of petulance. “Maybe I should start with this lap full of baby, or my perpetually overfull bladder. Or do you think he’d prefer to share my swollen hands and feet? And don’t forget, I have itchy stretching skin, and stitches where the sun don’t shine.”

  “You’re pitiful. A few months ago, you would have given this house and every dime you’ll ever earn to be right where you are, right now. But instead of being thankful and helping your man to enjoy his little tree, you’re in here sulking like some kind of spoiled brat. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. It sucks to be you!”

  “It does suck to be me.” Rissa ran a hand through the hair she’d twisted high on her head. “Aren’t pregnant women supposed to be beautiful? Aren’t they supposed to glow? When is it going to be my turn? And why can’t he wait until next year to have his tree?”

  “Just determined to whine, aren’t you? Well, remember this: Nothing is promised, not even tomorrow. That tree is a little thing, and it’s for right now. That man and your baby, those are big things, and they’re yours right now.”

  “You’re trying to make sense out of my pettiness.”

  Yvette sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Girl, please, you’ll have to have your pity party without me. Don’t those stitches come out in a couple of weeks?” Rissa nodded. “Honey, if it was me, the second they let me out of that bed, I would dust off my credit card, get my hair done, buy some lingerie, and seduce my husband. You said it was safe after the stitches came out.” Yvette tossed her head and picked up her briefcase. “I would make a date with that man, and remind him of who I was—the hell with a tree.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Rissa said slowly. “And the tree isn’t all that bad.”

  “Hell with the tree,” Yvette repeated. “What about the man? Did you hear what I said to you?”

  “I heard you. I’m thinking about it.”

  Rissa was still thinking about it an hour later as she returned from yet another bathroom break. Rose Kirkland slipped into the room and silently collected the remains of lunch. She lifted Rissa’s glass and mutely disapproved of the remaining milk with a sidelong glance. When Rissa refused to meet her eyes, she pointedly set the glass on the bedside table and rolled the tray from the room.

  Listening to the sound of the retreating cart’s wooden wheels against the flooring, Yvette’s words sank deep and Rissa had to admit that the longer she thought about them, the more sense they made.

  He loves me and he’s been right here beside me through it all. He’s never once blamed me or even had an ugly word to say to me, and God knows I haven’t been easy to live with. He had to have been scared when he heard about Jimmy, and he knew that I would go to see about him, and he has yet to get mad at me about it.

  And I got pissy about a tree. She sniffed lightly and let the thoughts continue to flow. I can smell the tree from here, and I have to admit that it smells fresh and brings good memories—even if the toys under it are not for our child.

  But they will be soon. She sat a little higher in the bed and her face brightened. Dench deserves a break and a hell of a lot of consideration. Picking up the bedside phone, she dialed the number for Alexis Stanton’s office from memory.

  “This is embarrassing,” she said when the doctor answered, “but I need an answer, and I want to do the right thing.”

  “Certainly. What’s your concern, Rissa?”

  “I want to…make a date with my husband. I…miss him, and I would like for us to…reacquaint ourselves.”

  “Nice euphemisms, but I hear that one a lot.” Rissa could hear the doctor’s smile threaded through her words. “As long as the cerclage is in place, I’m afraid you’re going to be limited. But we’re due to remove yours soon.”

  “And when they’re out?” The words were drenched with hope.

  “When the stitches are removed, you may have some light bleeding, but that’s normal and won’t last long. At this stage of pregnancy, your baby should be fully developed and ready enough to be born. Sex may induce contractions, which could lead to active labor, but if you’re ready to have this baby now, and it sounds like you are, I’d say go ahead and make that date with your husband.”

  Rissa smiled and leaned back on her pillows. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Chapter 21

  “All you have to do is read the instructions,” Marlea insisted when she stood over the men and their manly display of tools.

  “Yeah,” Rissa said, picking up the instruction sheet. Skimming the page, she looked at the heap of parts dumped in the middle of her living room. “It says here that all you need is a screwdriver.”

  “A Phillips head screwdriver,” Marlea read over her shoulder.

  “I may only be a pregnant woman, but isn’t that a hammer?”

  “And those are pliers,” Marlea pointed. “Needle nosed pliers, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Irritated, AJ rolled his shirtsleeves higher, then leaned back to look at the picture on the box of the little pink stroller he was responsible for. “You act like this is the first thing I’ve ever built,” he grumbled, sitting down on the floor.

  “Maybe not built, but how about finished?” Marlea high-fived Rissa.

  “Your wife, dude.” Dench sat next to him and turned the box for a better look. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

  “Yeah, AJ. It sounds like a challenge to me, too. Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” Rissa was ready for the dare. When Marlea nodded, she looked straight at Dench and charged ahead. “And dude, your wife will bet you fifty bucks that we can build Barbie’s Dream House before you finish putting that stroller together.”

  AJ looked up from the stack of toy parts in front of him. “Be wary, man. There
’s a catch. There’s always a catch.”

  Marlea hummed agreement as she snapped the instruction page at her husband. “The catch is that we’ll read the instructions.”

  “Everybody knows that the instructions are a trick.”

  “Scared, AJ?” Marlea stepped close and bent to let her fingers caress her husband’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, baby. We know that you guys have been shopping, so we’re going to make it easy on you, only fifty dollars—each.”

  “You can afford that, can’t you?”

  Reaching, AJ was quick to capture Marlea’s fingers. “Wait a minute, Silk. Cash might be okay for you two, but what if Dench and I win?”

  “Like that might happen.”

  “There’s always the teensiest chance.” Rissa brought her thumb and index finger close together. “You know what they say about getting a roomful of monkeys together and having them come up with the complete works of Shakespeare.”

  Twisting her fingers lightly in AJ’s grasp, Marlea smiled. “Okay, then, if you should just happen to win, what do you want?”

  “I’m thinking a date, something nice and private, for New Year’s Eve.” AJ raised his brows and lowered his voice, “And you have to wear the stilettos and the corset.”

  Dench turned to look at Rissa and grinned. “I’ll take the date, with a rain check on the stilettos and corset.”

  She kissed the top of his head. “You have to win the bet first, sport.”

  “Promise me the date and the bet is as good as won.”

  “Give us a minute to get over there to that table, and we’ll start.” Rissa walked toward the table and settled into a chair. “On your mark, get set, go!”

  “Silk cheats,” AJ warned.

  “I do not,” Marlea called back, sorting through the pile of screws, nuts, and bolts.

  Across the room, Dench held a small wheel in both hands and didn’t appear to have any idea what to do with it. AJ looked ready to use his hammer on anything close enough to hit. Rissa turned precut pieces on the tabletop and smiled. “What if they win?”

  “Are you kidding? Look at AJ over there. He’s trying to build that toy the same way he played football—hit it until it does what you want it to do.”

  “Then let’s let them win,” Rissa whispered.

  “What?” Marlea’s head snapped up and her eyes sparked. “First of all, they’ll never let us live it down. Secondly, you know we’ll have to go over there and help them.” She glued a wall in place, and then referred to the instruction sheet.

  “Well then, how do we make it a tie, at least?”

  Marlea looked at her sister-in-law. “Does it really mean that much to you?” Rissa nodded and Marlea sighed.

  “You know you want to wear that corset and those stilettos.”

  “He likes them.” Marlea fused another Dream House wall and looked at Rissa again. “Why is this ‘date’ such a big deal to you? You see the man almost every day.”

  “You know about the cerclage, right? Well, the stitches came out a week ago and things are fine, but the doctor told me to be careful for another week. That brings me right up to New Year’s Eve, and I can’t wait to date my husband.” Leaning close, Rissa’s voice was low and expressive. “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had sex? Do this for me, Marlea, and I’ll pay off the bet. Girl, I’ll give you the fifty dollars.”

  “Shame on you, trying to get me to pimp Dench out.”

  “I’m not doing any such thing.” Rissa sent a sour look across the table, then turned her attention to painting tiny shutters. “I remember a time when you needed some help, and Dench and I were right there for you. I remember when a certain hateful wench was trying to play games with your head, and I was right there for you. I remember when…”

  “You’ve made your point,” Marlea replied. “Here’s what we’ll do: You paint all of those little pieces while I finish with the walls and the roof. We’ll tell them that we can’t do anything else until this dries, and then we’ll talk them through the stroller and the bikes. By then, everything will be dry and they can ‘help’ us finish. That way…”

  “We win!”

  “It won’t be as much fun if they know we helped them out.” Marlea drew a finger over her lips when the men turned to look at them.

  And a win is a win, Rissa thought.

  * * *

  Rissa still didn’t know how Dench and AJ built that stroller in reverse. As she showered she reviewed the events. Initially unwilling to believe that they weren’t being sabotaged, the men had insisted that the women keep their distance. They had struggled valiantly in their effort to deal with pieces meant to fit a small girl’s hands, and AJ had reminded Dench that someday, they would do this again for his daughter.

  “No way, dude. I’m going to buy my baby’s stuff preassembled.”

  When the wheels fell off for the third time, Dench and AJ had looked at each other and thrown their hands up in surrender. The women had flattened out the crumpled instructions and sorted through the pieces. Marlea had unscrewed several pieces while Rissa made sure they were still usable. Together, they had talked the men through the instructions and had the stroller, complete with a baby doll passenger, under the tree in fifteen minutes.

  Rissa turned the water off and stepped free of the shower. Pushing the door closed behind her, she took the soft blue bath sheet from the bathroom vanity and wrapped it around the fullness of her body. Everything about this holiday was good—better than she ever expected it to be. A tiny sliver of regret shivered beneath her skin when she thought of her first reactions to Dench’s determination to have a Christmas tree. But I gave in. And now she was glad she had. Yvette was right, she thought, giving her baby an inclusive pat. The tree will only be up for a few more hours, and if that’s all it takes to make him happy, he deserves it.

  When she’d gone in for her shower, he was removing the last of the lights. He’d packed all of the ornaments away, all except for one. It was a delicate crystal cherub she’d found in a shop at Lenox Mall. From the second she’d seen it, she’d known that it was the perfect peace offering, the perfect beginning to her apology.

  Opening the small gift box on Christmas Eve after Marlea and AJ had gone, he’d said nothing, but she saw the happiness in his eyes. He simply lifted it by its golden cord and silently admired its delicately precise rendering. When he surveyed the tree, taking time to find the right spot for it, Rissa promised herself that there would be another ornament to mark each year. No, better make that two ornaments, she amended, looking at herself in the vanity mirror, one from me and one from Faith.

  Beneath the bath sheet, the baby moved, flushing Rissa with a sense of well being. And you, she gave the baby another little pat, then let her fingers linger. Nice to have you back on my team. It seemed that the baby had forgiven Rissa’s rash of tree angst. No more gas attacks and no problems since the removal of the cerclage. And trust me, Mommy is grateful.

  Removing the oversized towel, dropping it into the bathroom hamper, Rissa took her time, luxuriating in the fullness of her body. Turning, she admired the curve and tilt of her heavy breasts with their dark aureole, and the weighty swell of her stomach. Her fingers surrounded the baby and she proudly watched the response she drew.

  When her eyes returned to the mirror, the flash at her throat made her smile. The open platinum and pavé diamond heart pendant was a gift from Dench, and her fingers traced it now. “Just so that you don’t forget that you hold my heart,” he’d said.

  And I hope he knows that he’ll have to bury me wearing this. I’m never taking it off.

  Filling her palm with scented lotion, anticipating the touch of Dench’s hands, her own fingers trailed pleasure along her skin. Warm to her touch, her body tensed and flowed with the movement of her hand and she heard her doctor’s voice again.

  Filled with amusement, Alexis Stanton had said everything except ‘Go get him!’ That’s not exactly true, Rissa reminded herself. What she actually said w
as that Faith is fully developed and ready to be born. She said that the strong contractions of sex could trigger full labor. She said that Dench and I could be together. Finally.

  And Yvette said that I should seduce my husband. The lightly scented body spray chilled her skin and filled the air around her. Never let it be said that I can’t follow directions.

  Finding her makeup, watching her face in the mirror, Rissa was careful. Not too much. She moved mascara across her lashes and debated more. How long has it been since I did this just for him?

  Jamaica? Has it really been that long?

  She tried to count and days moved into weeks, which became months. Never again, she vowed, touching her lips with lipstick. I dress for everything else that’s important to me, and that’s everything from work, to church, to hanging out with Connie and Jeannette. The least I can do is dress for Dench.

  The baby sent a wave of approval surging through her breasts. Slipping into her panties, Rissa decided that it was a good omen. Moving with lazy grace, Rissa pulled the red and gold velvet dressing gown from its hangar. Gathering it in her hands, she lifted it high and let it fall over her body, covering herself from shoulders to her bare toes. Watching her image, she buttoned the long row of gold buttons fronting the gown and tried not to wonder how long it would take Dench to undo them.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous about being with Dench. Not even our first date. She pulled the silk scarf from her hair and let it fall into a dark, shoulder-sweeping drift. That date was just a quick dinner and a movie. Nothing big, and the only thing that made it special was Dench. He took me to see Spiderman, and I don’t recall a single thing about the movie, except that he held my hand.

  Her toes went quickly into golden slippers and she pressed her hands together, trying to quiet her nerves when she faced herself in the mirror again. One day, Faith is going to ask me how to know if she’s in love, and I’m going to tell her that she’ll know when a man makes her feel like this.

  Rissa’s fingers touched the wall panel and the bathroom darkened around her. Opening the door, she stepped into the hall and heard music. I’m going to tell Faith that love is based on caring, friendship, commitment and trust. I’m going to tell her that love is shared between two people who have a vested interest in one another’s happiness.