Dream Keeper (26 page)

“Bed rest, cervical cerclage, or tocolytics.”

“Drugs?”

“To prevent premature labor, but in your case,” Stanton shook her head, “I believe that would be contraindicated.”

“So I have to stay in bed for five months? How?”

“Don’t look so scared. That would not be the full therapy for you. In your case, I believe that cervical cerclage is an appropriate treatment. You’re an active woman, with a thriving business.” She smiled when Rissa looked surprised. “Joyce told me about your agency, and my husband and I are Falcon season ticket holders—big fans.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I married well,” Rissa joked, not quite managing to laugh. “Seriously, what is cerclage? Who does it? Where do you, I mean, would I have to be hospitalized? And…”

Stanton chuckled and set her tea aside. “A cervical cerclage is a minor surgical procedure in which the opening to the uterus, the cervix, is stitched closed in order to prevent miscarriage or premature birth.”

“To keep the baby from falling out.” Rissa fought to shut down the gag reflex and felt no relief when she won. “So it’s real surgery, and it takes place in a hospital? Under anesthesia? Will Joyce do it or would you?”

Stanton looked amused. “I can tell you were a good student. The procedure would be performed in a hospital, and you would be placed under general anesthesia. Unless you’d prefer another practitioner, I would perform the procedure.”

“You’re good at this, right?”

“At the risk of sounding vain,” Stanton smiled, “I’m the best. Look, Rissa—may I call you Rissa?” When Rissa nodded, the doctor stood and faced her. With her hands on her full hips, she looked fearless. “Rissa, I do three to six of these procedures weekly, more than a hundred a year. I promise you, every one of them is different because every woman approaches her pregnancy differently. I know that you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t believe that I can help you.”

“Complications?” The word came out on a whisper.

“Yes, there are risks associated with the procedure, and they can include things like bleeding, premature rupture of the membranes, premature labor, and the general risks associated with local or general anesthesia.”

Rissa looked like she was ready to curl up in the chair and cry. Watching the emotions crossing her patient’s face, the doctor paused.

Tight-lipped, Rissa straightened in her chair and inhaled deeply. “After the cerclage is in place, how does that alter my day-to-day routine? And what about…you know…”

“Honey, please,” the doctor laughed. “Your husband is going to hate it, and if you’re as active as that question leads me to believe you are, it won’t be a great treat for you, either.” She laughed again when Rissa looked sad. “You’ll be able to handle the day-to-day aspects of your business for the most part, but I’m afraid that you’ll be storing up a lot of sexual energy over the next four or five months.”

“No sex?” Rissa looked bereft.

“Not until the cerclage is removed, and that would be done at thirty-seven and a half weeks.”

“I’m only sixteen weeks now.” Rissa’s eyes moved as she did quick calculations. Her heavy sigh made the doctor smile. “That’s an awfully long time.”

“Think of how interesting week thirty-eight will be.”

“Right.” Rissa offered a small smile. “So when do we do this?”

“I have two openings for next week.”

“You don’t need to check your appointment book or anything?” Rissa looked impressed.

“I have specific hospital time at Crawford Long and Northside, so that makes it easier to keep things on track. As it stands, I have eight o’clock openings on Monday and Tuesday at both hospitals.”

Rissa thought of her baby and waited for an answering tremor—nothing came and she guessed the baby was depending on her.
So is Dench.
She swallowed hard and forced a determined smile. “The sooner the better. Monday at Crawford Long.”

Sitting in her car, Rissa debated running back across the parking lot and into Alexis Stanton’s office.
But my baby’s life depends on this.
Looking down, reading the sheet of instructions, she read:
No food or drink after midnight before the surgery, avoid tampons, avoid sexual intercourse…Avoid?
She smoothed a hand over the page as Dench crossed her mind.

He’s home tonight, so that only gives us three days to…
A little moan escaped her throat when she pictured him: Big hands, big feet, long limbs, sheets of muscle, warm lips, and a heartbeat like music.
I miss him already.

And he’ll come to the hospital with me on Monday. I’ll tell him that he doesn’t have to, that he doesn’t have to stay, but he’ll be there when I open my eyes. I know he will because he’s Dench, and because he loves me.
The sudden warm rush that filled her body was soft but emphatic enough for her to bring her hands to her heart in response.

“You’re right. He’ll be there because he loves us both.”

Chapter 18

This baby is a girl.
Rissa was almost surprised when the clear and easy thought finally occurred to her.
But it makes perfect sense.
She pulled her car door open and carefully inserted herself into the driver’s seat.
I just don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out, although with the surgery and all, I have had a few other things going on…

Moving gingerly, testing herself, Rissa reached for the button at the side of her seat. Pressing, she waited for the BMW to obey and slide her a few inches closer to the steering wheel.
No point in rushing. I promised Dench that I would take it easy and I did, all the way to Chicago and back.

Chicago, whew! This was the little trip that almost didn’t happen. Your daddy pitched a fit when I told him that I still intended to go. It’s a good thing Alexis convinced him that it would be all right, and that we could safely travel.
Satisfied that she had enough room to comfortably maneuver, she tossed her coat and messenger bag into the passenger seat. She felt the tiny tremor, almost too small to be anything more than imagination.
Don’t start. Mommy’s had a busy day.
She adjusted her sunglasses and ran her fingers through her hair.
Dench likes the hair,
she thought, tossing her head,
so maybe it’s here to stay.

When she pulled the car door closed, her nerves fluttered and generated second thoughts. She reached across to pull the messenger bag into her lap and snapped it open to finger through the enclosed documents.
You’re right, it wouldn’t do for me to get all the way home only to discover I’d left something undone in Chicago.
Satisfied that everything was in order, she snapped the seatbelt into place.

Nothing to say about that, huh?
Satisfied that she and the baby were in accord, Rissa turned the key and powered the BMW out of the lot and onto the highway.
Funny how easily I’ve slipped into these conversations with you, little girl. I even expect you to answer me—and you do.
She sighed and eased the car over into the next lane.

I have to admit that I’m kind of surprised at how easy you are to talk to—kind of like your daddy.
She smiled
. That’s a good thing, because your daddy is a special kind of man. I can’t think of a lot of men that I would have trusted to be as understanding and supportive as he has been.

Everything must be happening so fast for him, and he must feel so out of control. Less than a week ago, he walked in the door from his away game, and I hit him with all of the news about the surgery and what it meant for you, our baby, and he took it all in stride—most of it anyway. He had to take a seat when I told him about the no sex prohibition.
Rissa laughed and tapped her brakes as a car cut in front of her. The baby sent a querulous flutter across her lap and Rissa laughed again.
No, sweetie. We will not indulge in road rage—Daddy wouldn’t like it.

And we want to keep Daddy happy.
Laughter simmered into a contented smile.
Daddy sure worked overtime to keep Mommy happy.

Telling him about the surgery had not been the easiest thing she’d ever done, and yet he’d taken one look at her face and found the strength to sit and listen. Knowing instinctively that she needed him to hear and understand every word the first time around, he’d listened, generous, patient, and kind.

Kind. Is that even a word that a woman expects to use when it comes to her husband?

But it was the right word to use for Dench when he sat there looking at her with those deep and accepting green and gold flecked eyes. When she moved close, he opened his arms, letting her melt into his warmly secure embrace, and she felt anchored. When his voice stroked her ear, reminding her of who he was, she was ready to defy the world for him.

“I love you, Rissa. We’ve come this far together and we’ll see this through, all the way through, together.”
The words were exactly right, echoing the promise she saw in his eyes, and she loved him even more for having the faith to say them out loud.

Faith
.
That’s what we’re about.
Rissa couldn’t stop the smile when the baby sent a tiny ripple through her.
That’s what you’re going to be born into.
She drove the last mile to her home in silence.

Faith.
Watching her garage door rise, the word skimmed her consciousness again.
Faith. Is that your name or your mantra?
The baby sent no signal, leaving Rissa wondering as she made her way from the garage.

Jamming her key into the door left her with an anxious shudder that had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with the housekeeper Dench had insisted on hiring.
Like I couldn’t keep my own house clean. The last thing I need is some other woman fanning around my home, rearranging things, and trying to fix things that aren’t broken.
But it was his house, too.

She pushed the door open and smelled lemon polish. Stepping in, she pushed the door closed behind herself and locked it.
Bet she forgot to turn the alarm back on.
Moving to the wall panel, Rissa’s fingers had to move quickly to disarm the system before the alarm triggered.

Okay, so she followed instructions.
Looking down at the gleaming hardwood floor, she moved her foot.
Not slippery, and they look good.
She was going to have to work harder to find a reason to hate this housekeeper. Never one to give up easily, Rissa took a quick tour of her home and wound up wondering how a single woman had accomplished so much in six hours. Mirrors were clean, laundry was done, and there wasn’t a dirty dish in the house. Whoever this wonder woman was, she’d even gone to the grocery store and stocked the refrigerator as fully and neatly as Rissa would have herself, if she’d had the time and energy.

Score one for Dench.

And I get to come home to a clean house.
She looked around, appreciating.
I’ll have to be around to meet this paragon of domestic virtue the next time Dench schedules her.
The baby telegraphed a funny thought her way.
Right. She’d better be a little old lady.

As much as she would have liked a glass of wine, Rissa settled for a tall glass of cold grape juice. Dropping her coat and the messenger bag on the floor beside her chair, she sat and suddenly realized how tired she was. Looking down at her belly, she smiled.
But I’m not complaining. You are so very worth it.

Sipping slowly, she lifted her feet to the chair across from her. Kicking off her shoes, she thought about the woman on the plane. Her hand wandered to her stomach and circled. The baby shifted beneath her palm and her smile broadened. “Mommy is not blaming you for anything, little one. Taking off for Chicago this morning was my silly idea, but I’m glad you went along for the ride.” When the baby shifted again, Rissa felt her body clench around the movement and felt a thrill that bordered on sensual.

“Second time you’ve done that to me today,” she sighed. The first time was on the plane as it circled Chicago before landing at O’Hare, and the little thrill had come so quickly that she hadn’t controlled the escaping moan. Clapping a hand over her mouth, hoping no one had heard, she scrunched low in her business class seat—
I’m going home first class
, she promised herself, hoping no one had heard her.

No such luck. The woman next to her had looked at her belly and her embarrassed eyes and laughed out loud. Tall and long-limbed, with knees that pushed into the seat in front of her, the coffee-colored woman displayed her beautiful and oddly haunting thick-lipped smile. “I know you don’t think that’s unusual? Honey, before it’s all over, that baby is going to have you making all kinds of sounds.” She laughed again. “How are your feet and hands?”

Rissa blinked when the woman twisted in her seat and frowned down at her low-heeled pumps.

“Swollen? Huh, that’s normal—especially in shoes like those. You need to put those in your purse and travel in something more sensible. Next time you fly, sit on the aisle and make sure you get up about every twenty minutes or so. Sit with your feet up every time you get a chance.” Reaching, she gripped Rissa’s hand in her strong fingers and looked at it. Her forefinger touched Rissa’s wedding band and she smiled. “Pretty rings, but tight. You need to move your hands around more.”

Is she calling me lazy?
Rissa bristled, pulling her hand back.
My own mother doesn’t call me lazy, and having a housekeeper was never my idea…

“And you need to drink lots of water, even though that means more bathroom time—keeps you from bloating.”

Rissa wondered if she looked stupid, because her seatmate just kept on talking.

“I went through this seven times. I have six children, so I’m kind of an authority on being pregnant.” The woman laughed. “What are you, anyway? Six months or thereabouts?” She nodded, accepting her own judgment. “Yes, about six months.”

“Almost seven.” Rissa found enough nerve to sit up in her seat.

“Your first?”

Your business?
“Yes.”

“We lost our first one.” The woman pulled at the breast of her sweater and her gaze wavered for the first time as she looked at Rissa. Heartbreak hid in the shadows of her dark eyes. Rissa’s heart and brain nearly burst with the gravity and the depth of the questions that nearly spilled from her lips when she looked into her seatmate’s face
. Did he blame you? How did you learn not to blame yourself? How did you hold out until the next time?

The woman looked as if she’d heard every question and her face creased. “I like to have never gotten over it—thought it would kill me.”

“I know.” Rissa bit her lip and touched the woman’s hand. “I know.”

The woman smiled bitterly as her eyes touched Rissa’s. She looked at her for a long moment, but then the smile changed. “I believe you do.” She closed Rissa’s hand between both of hers and sat straighter. “I did tell you that I have six now, didn’t I?”

“I’ll be happy with this one.”

“I believe that, too.” The plane bumped as it touched down and Rissa gasped again when the baby reacted. “Might be a little uncomfortable, but you should enjoy it while you can. It won’t last forever. Nothing ever does.”

Rissa was still thinking about her seatmate as she hailed a cab and headed to Shula’s Steakhouse on East North Water Street. The drive was longer than she’d anticipated, but definitely shorter than it would have been in Atlanta. The fact that DeJuan Fisher was waiting in front of the restaurant made the trip better.

“You made it.” He smiled, helping her from the cab. He tossed a handful of bills to the driver and ushered her inside. “I thought that you would get a kick out of this place, especially since AJ Yarborough is your brother and your husband coaches Atlanta.”

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I know.” Fisher grinned. “But can I just show off for a minute?”

Rissa raised a finger and looked stern. “One minute.”

“Dang, you’re tough. Now I have even more respect for Coach Traylor.” Taking her elbow, DeJuan led her through the restaurant, talking every step of the way. “I know you probably don’t remember the Dolphins in ’72, but that was the year they went seventeen and 0, a perfect season—the only team in NFL history to finish with a perfect season. So, to honor that, it’s the theme of every Shula Steak House restaurant. The menus here are hand painted on official NFL game balls and signed by Coach himself.”

The big man sounded like a fan, but he looked as proud as a little boy. “It’s like one of the top five steak house restaurants in the country, and there’s one in just about every NFL city—except Atlanta.” He stopped at their table and pulled out her chair.

This boy’s mama raised him right.
She smiled gracefully and sat. “In Atlanta, we have Bones and Chops, both outstanding restaurants in their own right, but I’ve heard that the Shula franchise is shopping space with the Ritz-Carlton in Atlanta,” she smiled, flirting just a little, “if you’re interested.”

“I am interested.” Fisher rubbed his big hands together and leaned forward. “So I guess that brings us to business.”

Rissa looked at her watch. “It does if we can do it before my five o’clock flight leaves.”

“I’m not trying to move to Atlanta.”

“Nobody is asking you to. You told me that you needed commercial representation, someone to vet and field offers, make your name bankable, and help you ensure a life after the NFL.”

“Word is, you did well for AJ and you’ve hooked Traylor up, but you have a vested interest there. What about Kadeem Gregg?”

Rissa looked at him over the rim of her water glass. “What about him? He’s got a guaranteed second and a third year option, and eight million in endorsements. If he stays with me, I believe we’ll more than double that over the course of a year. Of course, if the Super Bowl becomes a factor…” She set the glass aside and let her face go blank. “Is that what you meant by bankable?”

His toothy grin went wide and Rissa’s briefcase held the sheaf of signed documents when DeJuan Fisher helped her into the cab for her ride back to O’Hare.

Knowing that she was about to knock Yvette’s socks off and pump up their corporate bottom line at the same time, Rissa was happily congratulating herself when she felt the tiny stab low in her body. Much like a menstrual cramp, it was enough to make her gasp and close her eyes in shock as she headed toward the train that would deposit her on Concourse C.

Her feet stopped directly in the path of two rushing men at the same time that her hand moved to identify the pain. The shorter of the two men looked as if he had a hair-trigger temper and opened his mouth to harangue her, until he noticed her belly. Taking full advantage of the moment, Rissa turned big eyes and a radiantly helpless smile into the face of his frustration.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right?” Gray haired and paunchy, he looked as if he were more used to giving orders and having them obeyed than taking care of pregnant ladies, but he did his best. “I am so sorry, I should have been more careful.” When he reached to solicitously pat her arm, his taller blue-eyed companion ran his fingers through the remnants of his blond comb-over and gawked.