Dream Keeper (5 page)

“I have you for cuddly, I don’t need a kitten.” She pushed her hips against him. “Just think, this will be the last time we have that great big beautiful tree just for us.”

“And I guess I’d better buy a Santa Claus suit. You know, so that Big Poppa can make the kids smile—the kids and the grandkids. Grandkids, baby.” He sighed. “From now on, everything…it’s for our family.” Rolling toward her, his face close, his fingers drifted over her skin. “Sure you don’t want a kitten?”

“No way. I want a baby. Our baby.”

“Good, and when it gets here, that’s what we’ll call it—Ours.”

She punched his arm and made a face. “That’s a horrible name for a little girl.”

His lips were soft when he kissed her. “Or boy.”

“Or boy,” she agreed. Settled in his arms, her breath grew even and Rissa fell asleep dreaming of decorating their family Christmas tree, putting toys together for their children, baking cookies for Girl and Boy Scout meetings. She curled closer to Dench and inhaled deeply.

Her breath was a sigh. He watched her lashes drop, fall softly against the roundness of her cheek, and wondered what she’d begun to dream about when her lips curved into a graceful smile.
The baby, it has to be the baby
, he thought.
My son—or daughter—perfect and healthy. Is it too early to wonder about the baby’s sex? What he, maybe she, will look like? Big Poppa
,
she called me. Yeah, that’s me, Big Poppa.

It’s been a long time coming.
Watching her sleep, Dench thought about all the stuff he’d heard about pregnant women.
They get fat and cranky and have strange cravings. That’s what they say. They say that they have this glow, that they’re beautiful.
Rissa had always been beautiful to him.
And we’ve waited four years for this baby—all that testing. Dude, when I think of all the tests we endured, how sick some of them made her—such a strong woman. Pregnant now, though. Finally.

She moved in his arms and Dench was struck again by the miracle of this woman he loved more than he’d ever thought he could love any one human on the planet, and he was grateful.
With her I get everything a man is entitled to ask of this life—love, hope, and family. Sure wish Aunt Linda was here for this baby.

Something thrummed in his chest and for a minute he missed his Aunt Linda so deeply that it hurt. Linda Traylor had been his mother, his conscience, and his pep squad, all rolled into one. She’d been there for him from childhood, right up until eight years ago when she’d passed in her sleep. Depression might have claimed him, if not for his friendship with AJ and his love for Rissa.

I know you’re up there on a cloud, just watching. You always liked Rissa,
he thought.
Now look what she’s done for us.
The ache eased, went away, and he smiled.
Yeah.

His hand slipped from Rissa’s breast to her belly and he held his breath, wondering at the miracle of life. AJ said there was nothing like being a father—and, dude, AJ never lied when it came to Marlea and his babies. Rissa stirred gently, shifting in his arms.
She deserves children
and she’s gonna be the Mother of Life
.

Drifting, he closed his eyes. The phone rang, sounding far away. Recognizing the sound on the second ring, he struggled to pull himself up from sleep when Rissa made a purring sound. Fingers closing over the receiver, he had to smile. She might hate to miss out on a good secret, but his woman was a seriously sound sleeper. Almost as though she heard his thoughts, Rissa smiled, purred again and snuggled closer to his body.

“Hello?”

The man’s voice on the other end was agitated when he asked to speak to Rissa, “Please.”

“Who are you, and why are you calling my house at,” Dench glared at the clock, “at eleven at night, and asking for my wife?”

“Maybe what I really need,” the man said, “is to talk to you.”

“To talk to me? What do you need to talk to me about?” Dench whispered into the phone, cupping a hand around the mouthpiece when Rissa moved against him. “Who is this?”

“It’s…I’m…My name is James Clarence, sir. I’m one of your wife’s clients and…”

“Clarence? The boxer?”

“Yes, sir, and see…I’ve got sort of a situation.”

Dench passed a hand over the warm silky leg Rissa suddenly swept over him. “Do you need me to get her for you?”

“No! No, sir. Please don’t. You answered, that’s a good thing. I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Dench let toughness creep into his voice. “Dude, I’m football and you’re boxing. What do we have to talk about?”

“Come on, man.” James was pleading. “I need a man’s opinion.”

Not ready to give in, Dench could almost hear the younger man shrug and blink innocent eyes. “Dude,” he finally said, “I am not your father and I’m not a priest.”

“But you are a man, and what I need to hear right now is what a man has to say. I need your help. It’s about a woman. My woman.”

“So you thought you would just call here in the middle of the night and wake mine up?”

“Naw, man, it ain’t like that. See, she gave me some advice and I’m going to take it. At least I think I’m going to take it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I guess I just wanted to hear somebody say everything was going to be all right.”

So this is going to take a minute, right?
Moving carefully, Dench separated himself from the warmth of his wife and eased from the bed, taking the phone with him. Grabbing his robe, he pulled it over his arms and headed for the kitchen. Flicking on a light, he made a stop at the refrigerator for juice and poured a tall glass. “Tell me about it.”

“Where do you want me to start?” James Clarence sounded about as miserable as one man could be.

Dench sipped juice. “Start at the beginning.”

James did, spinning his tale of woe, confusion, and fractured love. When he got to the part where he would have reiterated his blues chorus, Dench stopped him.

“Look, dude. You love her, she loves you. You trusted each other enough to share your bodies and you trust her enough to want to entwine your life with hers. You’re about to have a baby. If you don’t man up now, when do you think would be a better time? I’ve seen you take some bad dudes out in the ring and you looked fearless. Why would you wimp out now, with so much at stake?”

“See…”

“Naw, dude. I don’t see nothing but you blowin’ smoke about how you don’t want to hurt your mother’s feelings. You need to talk to your woman and be done with it.”

James blew out hard, and it carried across the line. “Man, all that talking stuff, it ain’t for me. I’m a boxer, and I’m used to lettin’ my hands do the talking for me.”

“And now you want to be a husband.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Suck it up, dude—husbands talk. The truth of the matter is that if you love Sierra, your mother will love her better, especially when that baby gets here. Damn, when that baby gets here, your mother is going to forget all about you, and marrying Sierra will suddenly be her idea. Wait and see.”

James laughed. “You’re right. I guess it’s just jitters. Nerves, you know, and it’s not like I’ve got a dad or big brother around. But…thanks for steppin’ in.”

Dench rose, set his empty glass in the sink and looked out into the cold darkness beyond his cozy kitchen. “A man’s got to know where his heart is,” he said as much to himself as to the young man on the other end of the line. “A man, a husband, and a father have to know where that is, and then you’ve got to do everything you can to protect that. Good luck on the proposal, and let us know where to send the wedding and baby gifts.”

“Will do. And just so you know I was listening, James Clarence does not need luck. I’m going to be marrying the right woman.”

“Way to go, dude.” Dench grinned and disconnected the call. He couldn’t help feeling a little heroic when he turned off the light and went back to his bedroom. At his bedside, he paused to watch his wife. Rissa was still sound asleep, trusting him to be with her no matter what. Sliding into bed beside her, he touched her cheek and smiled, knowing one thing for certain:
I’m going to be here, no matter what
.

Chapter 4

Dench pulled the door closed and jerked at the seatbelt. On the other side of the truck, AJ clicked his seatbelt into place and settled back for the ride home. Flowery Branch was less than an hour’s ride away, but he knew Dench was glad for the company. The Falcons’ training camp was not exactly the kind of place a man wanted to take his wife while he was handling business, but as a former player, AJ enjoyed watching him on the job. He’d also enjoyed getting a look at the team that would hit the field for the last five games of their NFL season.

Dench pulled out of the parking lot and turned left toward Atlanta Highway. Eyes on the road, a corner of his mouth hitched into a grin. “So, what did you think?”

“I think that you’ve come a long way in six weeks. Has to be hard, trying to pull strong play at the end of January, from a team that you’re just getting to know, but you’re workin’ it out, dude, you’re workin’ it out.” AJ fiddled with the CD player, found something by Pieces of a Dream, punched buttons and nodded to the beat when sound filled the truck cab. “Rissa did good by you, the boys, and the team.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Dench’s grin widened. “Did you check out Sawyer and Gregg?” he laughed. “Kadeem Gregg, especially. Dude, I’m amazed he could run that fast and watch you at the same time.”

“Hey, he’s a good kid. He’s got speed and good hands, and with some seasoning, he’s gonna make a really fine player. They both will.”

Dench merged into traffic, still laughing. “You’d say that even if they sucked. Those boys were treating you like the walking god of all football—and you were lovin’ it. Go on and admit it, you loved it.”

“Aww…” AJ pulled his cap lower and tried not to laugh out loud.

“And you didn’t seem to mind when my whole back line came running off the field, begging for autographs like a bunch of star-struck kids. No shame, dude, you have no shame. I guess that’s what Hall of Fame status will do for a brother.”

“Hey, man, you knew what I was when you brought me out here. No shame in my game.” Smoothing a hand over his cap, AJ sat straighter. “Besides, now I’m just a humble physical therapist.”

“By day.”

“Yeah, well, you’d have to ask Marlea about my nights. I’m too humble to speak on it myself,” he sniffed.

Dench blew out and rolled his eyes. On the road in front of him, traffic slowed as it merged onto I-985. “And yet you were out there signing autographs like a pro—an old, retired pro.”

“I am what I am. But, brother, you were out there taking charge like a real coach—gettin’ results and everything. You looked good. I’m thinking Sunday will be a win for you.”

“You think?” Dench hit the brakes when kids in a convertible cut him off. “For real?” When AJ nodded, Dench’s grin lit his face. “That’s high praise, dude. High praise, indeed.”

“You deserve it. I saw you, I saw your team, and considering the time you’ve had with them, you did good.” His eyes cut across the cab. “Have you thought about playoffs? Playoffs and Rissa?”

“Playoffs, Rissa,
and
a baby? Yeah, dude. I’ve thought of almost nothing else.” Concentrating on the road ahead, Dench thought again. “She’s a complicated woman and she’s smart, but I know she’s watching the calendar, counting down the days for this baby. Dude, she made me promise to pick up paint samples for the nursery.” His eyes met AJ’s. “Was Marlea like that?”

AJ shrugged, eyes on the road. “I think they all do that. It’s natural.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Gripping the steering wheel, Dench made his way onto I-285. “Makes it hard to keep my head in the game sometimes.”

“Gotta watch that.”

“Dude, you think I don’t know that?”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“I know.” Dench’s mouth was suddenly dry, even after he found his bottle of water and brought it to his lips. He tried to think of how to say what was on his mind. AJ fiddled with another CD, and Dench tried to frame his thought. “Has she said anything to you—about the baby?”

“You know Rissa,” AJ snorted. “Every chance she gets, she’s talking about the baby. I thank God that she lives in your house instead of mine—even if it is only down the street.”

“Yeah, I do know Rissa. Maybe that’s why I think that there’s something that…she’s not telling me.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Aw, come on AJ, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to be all, you know, in touch with my feelings. I just know Rissa, and something’s off.”

“Marlea hasn’t said anything—she would have told me if Rissa said anything to her.”

“Huh. You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Huh.” Dench slowed and drove thoughtfully down the exit ramp. “She tell you what happened with her client?”

“Which client?” AJ drawled. “What happened?”

“James Clarence, she calls him Jimmy. He called after you all left on Christmas Eve, right? He had talked to her earlier, then he talked to me. Well, something one of us said must have been right because we woke up a couple days later with a chauffeur at the front door.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, dude, for real. It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and Rissa was buried under the covers when the doorbell rang, so I grabbed my robe and went to the door.”

AJ snickered. “Probably shuffling like an old man in those leather house shoes the kids gave you for Christmas.”

“Whatever, dude. I like the shoes. Anyway, by the time I got to the door, Rissa woke up and came running right behind me. You know how your sister is. I barely got the door open before she started asking questions.” His voice rose to imitate hers. “Who is it? Is that a limo out there? Why is a limo out there? Is that man dressed as a chauffeur? Why is a chauffeur at our front door?”

“And she never took a breath in between, right?”

“Don’t laugh, dude, you know she didn’t. But when I opened the door there he stood, a chauffeur, uniform and all. He was even wearing these high, polished black boots like you see in the movies, and I promise, he bowed and all but clicked his heels when the door opened. I asked who he was and he handed over these two long white boxes. ‘Courtesy of Mr. James Clarence,’ he said.”

Turning in his seat, AJ didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “So what was in the boxes?”

“You’re as bad as Rissa. He was a chauffeur, dude, pulled up in front of my house—that was enough for me.”

AJ gave up and laughed.

“Dude just smiled, touched the brim of his cap and got back in the limo. By the time he drove off, Rissa had her box open. Red roses, a split of champagne, and imported chocolates—mine was the same. Don’t ask, I guess he was so happy that it was all he could think of. Anyway, both cards had the same note. Seems the boxer is getting married, after all. Private ceremony, and oh, we’ve been invited to be godparents.”

“Godparents, huh?” AJ’s laughter simmered to quiet. “That’s why you’re wondering about Rissa? If this is too much for her, with her own pregnancy and all?”

“Yeah, and she’s all over the godparent thing. Thinks it’s sweet, thinks she can maintain professional distance as his agent and still be there for him and his wife.” Making the turn off Cascade, Dench let his truck slow as he neared the gate to his own street. Pulling close to the electronic sentry he stopped the truck and sighed. Punching in the code, he watched the heavy gate slide open and drove through.

“You think it’s too much,” AJ finally said.

“And you know I’m right.” Dench nosed the truck up the winding stone driveway and stopped at the side door of AJ’s home.

“You say anything?” Sitting in the truck in the midst of the winter-bare stone courtyard, AJ saw the things that made his home his own: the rose garden he’d planted with his wife, the small blue boy’s bike tilted on its training wheels, a Big Wheel with plastic rainbow streamers parked next to a pink-hooded doll stroller, and a pair of adult bikes neatly racked beside the narrow porch. At the door, several pairs of adult running shoes waited on a shelf next to plastic children’s boots.

He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped when Dench’s glance answered his question. This man was as close as a brother, closer.
And he married my sister. Wish I could help, but…
“What did she say?”

“She’s your sister, man. You already know what she said.”

“And she’s your wife. What did she say?”

“That she wanted to do it. That after everything we’d been through, it was a sign that things were going right for us.” Dench slid low in the seat and finished off the water left in his bottle. “I opened the champagne and finished it off, then I said I thought it was a bad idea.”

“Working up your nerve, huh?” AJ saw the fire build behind his friend’s eyes. “What did she say?”

“
Fine
.”

“Damn! That’s all she said?”

Dench crushed the empty water bottle and nodded. “Dude, you know that’s the one word women use to end an argument when they’ve decided to be right…”

“And you need to shut the hell up.” AJ looked across the courtyard and whistled softly.

“I told her that I was going to call Clarence and tell him to count us out, that we had too much on our plate already.”

And now I know what a dead man looks like.
AJ looked at Dench and shook his head. “What did she say to that?”

“
Go ahead
.”

“You know that was a dare and not permission, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But at least I got her to agree to think about it.”

“Or at least that’s what she’s going to let you believe, for now.” AJ shook his head. Across the courtyard on the porch, pretty white eyelet curtains moved in the window next to the door. He saw his sister’s curious face appear, eyes bright, lips curling in a smile when she recognized the truck. “Speak of the devil…”

“…and the imps appear,” Dench finished, reaching for his door. “My Aunt Linda used to say that.”

“Hope she was wrong this time,” AJ muttered, climbing out on the passenger side.

The door opened and Rissa slipped out. She pulled the door closed behind her and stood waiting, her jeans and sweater shrouded in the blue afghan she’d pulled around her shoulders. Dench smiled and she smiled back. It amazed him how still she could be sometimes, and how perfect she could be in her stillness—like now. Poised with the dark slash of her hair and the warmth of her eyes contrasting against the rosy gold of her skin, she waited for him as if he were the only man in the world. When her full lips parted, flashing the brightness of her teeth, he felt his heart clench.

“Hey.” Behind him, he heard AJ’s voice. “It’s my house, how come you get the hero’s welcome?”

“Dude, ’cause I got it like that.” Long steps took Dench to Rissa’s open arms and he forgot all about AJ.

Knowing when his presence was not required, AJ stepped past them and pushed the door open. He grinned when his wife and children looked up at him from the middle of a room filled with women and children.
Play date
, he remembered.

Nia promptly stood from her seat on the bright-colored plastic see-saw, tipping another child over in her rush for her father. Jabari was close behind, and a laughing Marlea just shrugged as she came toward him.
It’s good to be the king
, AJ thought, scooping up his daughter and son.

A king in his own right, Dench strolled in with his arm around Rissa’s shoulders and surveyed the room. “What’s with all the little people?”

“Play date,” Rissa answered. “I’m not sure why Marlea thought the King holiday would be a good time to bring children together, but since Yvette and I closed the office today, I thought I would help.” Her lips brushed his ear to whisper, “Besides, it’s good practice.”

“Speaking of practice,” AJ leaned in and whispered into Dench’s other ear, “let me show you what to do in a roomful of kids.” He planted a loud wet kiss on Nia’s cheek and one on Jabari’s before letting them slide to the floor. They looked up at him with adoring eyes, then melted into giggles when he winked at them. Lifting his hands to the room at large, he looked at Marlea. She made a “mommy face” and the children took the hint.

“I’d better go help,” Rissa chuckled, peeling away from Dench’s side.

“And that’s all there is to it,” AJ grinned. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“Where’s Mrs. Baldwin? You know she’s got a thing about her kitchen.”

“She’s probably hiding in her apartment, or maybe on the phone in the den. You know she’s got a boyfriend now.”

“No kidding?” Dench followed AJ into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “Same guy she was with Christmas Eve?”

“Far as I know.” AJ set plates and glasses on the high granite counter. Turning to the range, he lifted lids from the pots and made a face. “Looks like the kids had spaghetti.”

“I like spaghetti.”

AJ shook his head at the pot. “Man, this is little kid spaghetti, all sweet and bland. No garlic, no oregano, no real seasoning. Trust me, this is not the spaghetti you want.”

“How about this, then?” Dench popped a Tupperware container open. “Baked chicken?”

“From last night. Cool.” Looking over his friend’s shoulder, AJ pointed. “Grab that one, that one, and that one.” Taking the containers from Dench, AJ opened them and approved the contents. “A couple of beers, and we’re in business.”

Heaping plates took minutes to heat in the microwave while the two men sat with their longnecks. In the rooms beyond the kitchen, they could see Connie lightly tossing a ball to Jeannette as a trio of three-year-olds chased them. Rissa sat in the middle of the floor with a thumb-sucking child in her lap, reading aloud, while Marlea sang about the wheels on the bus.

AJ shoveled in a mouthful of garlic-laced mashed potatoes, then pointed his fork at the scene before him. “Not sure why Marlea thought the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday would be a good time to bring children together, but when you marry a teacher, even one who holds world records as a runner, you have to expect childhood enrichment.” He dug his fork deeper into his potatoes. “Just think, in a few months, you’ll be sitting here with one of your very own.”

Dench swallowed hard and had to reach for his beer.

AJ jabbed his fork into the chicken. “Of course, they don’t start out like that, running around, talking, eating spaghetti. Yours will be little, an infant.”