Dream Keeper (8 page)

“And scare you to death? You were scared enough when we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, remember?” Rissa let the bag fall to her feet and walked toward him. As she’d known he would, he opened his arms, accepted her. “Dench, we have gone through so much and come so far to have this baby, I didn’t want to alarm you. I made the appointment today—I’ll see the doctor on Monday.”

His arms tightened and he laid his cheek against her hair. “And you’ll tell me what the doctor says?”

“Every word,” she promised, leaning into him. Her stomach rumbled between them and they shared soft laughter. “We’d better eat now, your baby is hungry.”

“So is my baby’s mama.”

“Then I think you’d better feed me.” Suddenly tired, she kicked off her shoes and rested in his arms a little longer. Her yawn caught her off guard and she felt the worry shadowing his eyes. “Wow, hungry and tired.”

“Then how about you take your time, get settled, and I’ll put dinner on trays.”

She looked hopeful, glad that forgiveness came easily to him. When he picked up her shoes, she took them from him and yawned again. “Bring that tray to bed, and I’ll show you what I bought for you.”

“You bought something for me? What is it?”

“Bring me food and I’ll show you.” Picking up the bag of books, the shoes dangling from her fingers, she walked to their bedroom. The bag of books grew heavier with every step she took.

“Long day,” she decided, sliding out of her pants suit in the dressing room. Unbuttoning the white ruffled shirt was more than she felt like doing, so she pulled it over her head and left it piled with the suit in the middle of the floor. Reaching into a bureau, she found a simple white eyelet nightgown and remembered what Yvette had said about sexy underwear after babies. Shaking the sheer cotton gown open, Rissa pulled it over her head. Big, soft and roomy, there was nothing sexy about the gown and she tried to remember where it had come from because it was like nothing she’d ever purchased for herself. It was definitely designed for comfort.

Yvette has a point. The baby’s not even here, and I’m already going for the comfort—Dench will just have to forgive me this time.
Climbing into bed, she heard him coming with the tray. Even as her stomach grumbled, she yawned and knew that sleep was going to win.

From the bed, the bag of books was just in reach and she pulled it closer. Getting a good grip, she levered it up on the blue and brown comforter and spilled the books across her lap just as Dench rounded the corner.

Holding the bed tray, Dench looked from her face to her lap and back again. “Is that my surprise?”

She held
Daddy for Dummies
aloft. “Is that my dinner? If it is, Big Poppa, then this book is for you.”

One-handed, Dench planted the loaded tray in the center of the bed and sat next to Rissa. Taking the book from her hands, he flipped pages, studied a picture and flipped more pages. “So do you think this book is good?”

“I bought it, didn’t I? I wouldn’t buy you a book that wasn’t good.” Snagging a roll, she bit into it, chewed, and slid a little lower in the bed.

He swung his legs up on the bed and rolled to his side, reading. “Did you know that right now, the baby weighs about three ounces? Damn, baby, that’s about the size of a hotdog.”

Stuffing the last of the roll into her mouth, Rissa chewed. Dench turned another page, read and then looked at his hand.

“What?”

“Six and three-tenths inches,” he said reverently, his eyes alive with swirling flecks of green and gold. “That’s how big the baby is right now.” He turned more pages, reading along the way. “And teeth, it says that all the teeth have formed.” Rissa nodded sleepily and curled on her side as he continued reading. “This book is cool. Now I don’t have to listen to AJ’s nonstop commentary on the mysteries of childbirth. I’ve got my own reference tool.”

When Rissa didn’t answer, he looked over at her. Sprawled at an impossible angle, her head was thrown back and one foot dangled from beneath the covers. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing and an insolently sudden snore. Moving carefully, trying not to wake her, Dench eased from the bed. Sliding the tray away from her body, he stood and watched her sleep. When she started to drool, he set the tray on the floor and reached for a tissue—for better or for worse went a long way.

It’s a good thing I love you, girl.
He dabbed at the corners of her mouth and she smacked her lips in return.
And I love you like a shoe loves a sock.

Her hearty snore was answer enough for him.

Rissa spent most of the night snoring and slept so deeply that she didn’t hear Dench rise before daylight. His stealthy movements were so quiet that she never heard him dress or leave the house for Flowery Branch. Surfacing from sleep, she caught a trace of sweetness on the air, and it made her think of him. Refusing to open her eyes, sensing the stillness of her home, she knew that she was alone.
I didn’t hear the alarm clock go off. Where’s Dench?

Oh, yeah
, she recalled, liking the teasing floral whisper.
He said something about team assessment and medical reviews.
Yawning, still tangled in sleep, she managed to open her eyes. A glance at the clock told her that she could afford to sleep longer, but the delicate fragrance persisted. Turning her head, she found the source of the scent, soft, pink and velvety, in the center of his pillow.
A rose, he left a rose for me. And when did he get it?
She reached out, touching the bloom with a single finger and smiled.
Wonder what I did right to deserve a man like him?

She stroked the rose tenderly.
Cathi,
she remembered sleepily.
I haven’t thought of Cathi Jennings in forever. Wonder what she’s doing now?
Rissa sighed and drew the rose across the pillow, closer to her face.
That girl was crazy about AJ. She was the reason I noticed Dench in the first place. We were twelve years old and she said he was fine, but AJ was finer. Said he was ‘foine’…Then, she dared me to kiss him, and I did…almost twenty years ago…

Her breathing deepened and Rissa closed her eyes and drifted.
He was more than ‘foine.’ He fell out of that tree trying to get my cat that time—I guess that’s the first time I knew he was special, right for me. He’s funny and sweet, and he loves me. Promises that he loves me like Jesus loved the church and I guess I’ve always known it.
Fingering the rose, she floated off to sleep.

And would have slept far later, if not for the annoyingly insistent alarm of the clock at her bedside. Rissa stirred, wanting to get rid of the heinous sound, but…maybe it wasn’t a sound so much as a feeling, and the feeling was wrong. She knew it the second she moved her head.

Her body was hot and felt like it was…Her mind floundered, searching for the right word. B
uzzing
, she thought.
Why would I be…buzzing?
The pain that knifed through her back made a sudden detour down one leg and she gasped, her hands flying to her belly.
My baby?

Her usually agile mind stumbled into stupid and her mouth filled with salty water.
This is not right. Something is wrong…
Sitting up, she pushed back the bed sheets and stared in horror.
This is wrong, horribly, horribly wrong…

Wadded around her legs, the bed sheets lay where she’d pushed them, sodden, soaked with her blood. Rissa closed her eyes and tried to keep breathing. “Dench?” His name was a deadened croak when it crossed her lips, and she knew he wasn’t there.

Terrified and fearing the damage, her eyes refused to leave what she didn’t want to believe. Reaching without looking, she found the phone and pressed buttons. She babbled something to the 911 operator and pressed more buttons. Sitting in the bed with the awful sheets growing cold and stiff around her, she held the phone and prayed, afraid to move. Feeling her body begin to shake, Rissa ignored the lightning galloping through her body and made herself still. Maybe being still would save the baby.
Maybe…

“Hi, Rissa,” Marlea finally answered the phone. “What’re you still doing at home? Don’t you have any…” The line was too silent, for too long. Marlea’s eyes went to Mrs. Baldwin, who stopped in her tracks. “Rissa?”

“What?” Mrs. Baldwin looked concerned when Marlea shrugged.

“Rissa, are you alright?” When she heard nothing, Marlea pitched the phone to Mrs. Baldwin and ran.

“Mommy runs fast!” Jabari told the housekeeper.

The 400-meter run had always been Marlea Kellogg’s best event; she’d even won gold medals and set a world record. Running to Rissa’s house, she proved that she was as fast as she’d ever been. Running the distance, her feet only slowed when she jammed the keys in the door and pushed it open. Running through the house screaming Rissa’s name, she was too afraid to wonder what she might be running toward.

“Rissa!” Marlea nearly fell over her own feet when she reached the master suite. The set of rooms, shaped so like those in her own home, were different this morning—quiet, except for muffled sounds from the bedroom. Slowing, her heart pounding, Marlea trailed her fingers along the wall, not knowing what to expect. “Rissa?”

“Here.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, and Marlea’s stomach wrenched when she stepped fully into the warm and stylish bedroom. Eyes adjusting to the sun-filled room, she looked toward the bed and her mouth dropped. “Rissa…”

Sitting in the middle of the bed, still holding the telephone, fat tears spilled down Rissa’s face and she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what happened, Marlea. My baby…” Her eyes dropped and the tears came faster. “My baby…”

“Help is coming,” Marlea promised and hoped she was right. In the distance, she heard people talking, paramedics, she hoped. Somebody told them to go to the bedroom.
Maybe Mrs. Baldwin followed me
, she guessed, not concerned with whether she was right or not. Help had arrived. Concentrating on Rissa, she moved to the bed. Sitting carefully, she opened her arms and braced herself when Rissa collapsed against her.

“My baby,” Rissa whimpered.

“Is going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I’m not going to let you out of my sight until we both know.” She rubbed circles on her sister-in-law’s back and laid her cheek against her short, silky hair.

The paramedics, two strong-looking women, strode into the room and bent immediately to their work. Rissa was quiet as they fastened a blood pressure cuff to her arm and threw back her bed linens, preparing to shift her to the cold, white-sheeted stretcher they moved to her bedside. Her breathing was shaky and her fingers cold as she held Marlea’s hand tightly.

“Stay with me,” Rissa whispered and Marlea nodded, not knowing whether the words were for her or the baby.

Chapter 6

Lips pressed tight, the tall paramedic checked the blanket pulled over Rissa and looked to her partner. The chubby blonde nodded and grabbed the strap near Rissa’s feet. Towing the stretcher, she started off at a determined jog, her partner working with her. Marlea grabbed Rissa’s purse and ran with them, matching their every step.

“You have a hospital preference?” the tall one asked, never looking back.

Outside, the paramedics stopped and the back door of the ambulance slammed open. The wheels of the gurney clicked as the two women adjusted and lifted it. Rissa moaned softly as it clicked into place. “Monitoring is on you,” the chubby blonde said and headed for the driver’s seat.

“I’m on it.” The tall one slammed a door shut and started to climb in. “Hospital?”

“Southwest is closest, right?” Rissa’s golden skin had a distinctly ashen cast and her lips trembled when Marlea spoke for her. “Southwest.”

“Right.” The woman reached for the door, but Marlea was faster. She pulled and stepped up at the same time, landing on her knees at the foot of Rissa’s stretcher. The paramedic’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened.

“I’m going with her, and you can’t stop me,” Marlea said. The woman’s gloved hand moved toward her radio and Rissa moaned again. Marlea’s dark eyes narrowed when she squeezed onto the aluminum jump seat at Rissa’s side. “You won’t stop me.” Holding Rissa’s hand, she looked at the paramedic. “She’s my sister, and I’m going.”

The tall woman nodded and pulled the door closed. She pressed a button on the wall, murmured the name of the hospital, and the sirens started. The ambulance rolled and she took the jump seat on Rissa’s other side. Her eyes moved when she checked the blood pressure gauge still attached to Rissa’s arm. When she looked up, she was smiling. “You’re just like I thought you would be.”

Marlea’s eyes shot up to meet the paramedic’s. “Pardon me?”

“You’re Marlea Kellogg, right? The runner? With Project ABLE?” Her grin went crooked when Marlea nodded. “I thought I recognized you. I’m Tara Morgan. My brother Terrence is a part of your project.”

“Terrence Morgan?” Marlea looked down at Rissa and tried to place the name.

Project ABLE had drawn a lot of attention and a real following among athletes since its inception. Born of Marlea and AJ’s love of sports, his physical therapy practice, and her competitive nature, Project ABLE had stretched across Atlanta and beyond, helping hundreds of athletes find life after challenge. Being founded and sponsored by an NFL Hall of Famer and a Paralympics’ gold medalist had insured Project ABLE’s ability to generate press and funding. But it was their success in motivation and support that drew the attention of The President’s Council on Fitness, and kept them in touch with athletes like Terrence Morgan.

“Sprinter,” Marlea finally remembered, picturing his face. “Diving accident, right?”

“Broke his neck,” Tara said. “Came to your program through Piedmont Hospital, and now he’s a wheelchair racer.” Her crooked grin flashed again. “And he’ll graduate from Georgia Tech in the spring. Gonna be an engineer.”

“I’m glad.” Rissa’s moan made Marlea look down. The speeding ambulance took a turn, and she had to plant her feet to keep from rolling off the seat.

Rissa’s eyelids were drooping; they’d given her a sedative. “It’s over,” she mumbled, her fingers tightening on Marlea’s. “I messed up. I let him down, Marlea.” Shushing her had no effect; she was determined to speak. “He was depending on me…All I had to do was…”

“She’s a little shocky, but stable,” Tara explained. Leaning, she looked out the window, then back at Marlea. “We’re still about two minutes out.”

“Thank you.”

Tara’s crooked grin flashed again. “Thank
you
, from me and my brother.” The ambulance slowed and Tara moved between Marlea and the stretcher. “You’re going to have to move now. We’re taking her inside.”

The ambulance jerked to a stop and the door clanked when the blonde pulled it open. She blinked and stepped back. “What is she doing in there?”

“Relative,” Morgan said, sweeping Marlea with her as she pushed past.

A dozen hands moved in to help and Marlea hung close. When they moved, she went with them, feeling a bump in the pocket of her windsuit. Jamming a hand in the pocket, she pulled a cellphone free. For a moment, she wondered where it had come from, when she had gotten it.
Probably Rissa’s. Probably grabbed it when I picked up her purse.
The thought of a purse reminded Marlea of her own.
It’s at home, with my children
.

The hospital doors were flung open and everything around them seemed to pick up speed. Marlea found herself jogging alongside the stretcher, still holding Rissa’s cold fingers. When a woman in plum-colored scrubs and white rubber-soled clogs stopped her outside the ER, she felt breathless and numb.

“I’m Andi Marcus, and I’ll be handling intake for Mrs. Traylor.” The woman edged a step between Marlea and the double doors, and Marlea was forced to release Rissa’s fingers when the gurney slid through the opening. “We’re going to need her personal information. Did I hear somebody say you’re her sister?”

“Sister-in-law.”

“Close enough.” Ms. Marcus smiled, apparently satisfied that Marlea wasn’t going to keel over in front of her, and indicated a chair in front of the hospital green Formica counter.

Marlea sat. If the woman had given her name, she couldn’t remember it, but she tried to answer every question. Opening Rissa’s purse, she found medical and social security cards when requested. When the woman paused for breath, Marlea asked, “Can I see her?”

Sympathy crossed the woman’s face, and, rising, she nodded. “Let me check.”

She walked away and Marlea pulled out the cellphone and scrolled through the phone book. She hesitated, wanting to call AJ first. Determined to do the right thing, she passed his name and found Dench. Glancing at her watch, she tried to screw up her nerve. He would probably be out on the field or something, but he would want to know. He needed to know. Inhaling deeply, she pressed in the number.

“Hey, sweetness.”

Marlea’s heart broke. “Dench, this is Marlea, and I’m at the hospital…”

“What?” Confusion twisted across the line and he was silent for a long second. “Wait a minute, this is Rissa’s phone. Why are you on her phone? Did you say at the hospital? Is she okay? Which hospital?”

She heard the hot bright edge of hysteria touch his voice.
I should have called AJ first. He might have taken this better coming from AJ.
“We’re at…”

“It’s the baby, isn’t it?”

“I…Dench, we just got here and I’m still in Admissions. I don’t have any answers for you, but I think you need to be here with her. We’re at Southwest Medical Center.”

“Yes, of course. I’m at Flowery Branch…I’ll be there as soon as I can. Southwest—about an hour, okay?”

“Dench, that’s fifty miles in traffic…”

“About an hour.” He was breathless, running, she guessed.

“Of course.” She couldn’t make herself end the call. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave her alone. I’ll be here when you get here.”

“Thanks, Marlea.” Fear was pushing hysteria aside. She heard it in his voice.

“Drive carefully.” She pressed the button, disconnecting the call.

The politely cleared throat made her turn. The woman in the plum-colored scrubs stood just behind her. “If you need a minute,” she indicated the cellphone, “I’ll be right back.” Marlea nodded and she disappeared around a corner.

Marlea looked at the phone in her hand and pressed the number in.

“Hey, Rissa. What’s up?”

His voice was as familiar as her own right hand and comforted her as no other could. “It’s me, AJ. I’m just using Rissa’s phone.” She waited a beat when he covered the phone with his hand and said something to one of the Project ABLE staffers.

“Yeah, Silk, what’s up? Everything okay?”

Holding the phone in both hands, she lowered her voice. “AJ, I’m at the hospital with…”

Silent alarm raced between them. “Are you all right? The kids?”

“I’m fine, and the kids are with Mrs. Baldwin. They’re fine, too.” She braced herself. “It’s Rissa, she…Well, I don’t know yet. Can you get here? I’ll stay with her, but AJ, please?”

There was silence, and she knew he was nodding. “You already called Dench?”

“He’s on the way.”

“So am I. Southwest, right?”

Marlea nodded. “Right.”

“Hold on, Silk. I’m on the way.”

The man was a rock and she was grateful as she closed the phone and dropped it into Rissa’s purse. The hand that touched her shoulder made her jump. The woman in the plum-colored scrubs stood beside her and, as hard as she tried, Marlea could read nothing in her expression. “Is she all right?”

“At her doctor’s request, we’re going to hold her for observation. But in the meantime, she’s stable and you can see her now,” the woman said and gave her quick directions.

Forcing her feet not to run was a job all on its own as Marlea found herself taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. On the third floor, she stepped out of the stairwell and into the sterile hall. She was nowhere near out of breath, but when a woman pushing a fetal monitor passed her, she felt like she’d been punched. One hand on the wall, Marlea forced herself to stand straight and breathe normally. Putting one foot in front of the other, hand still on the wall, she forced herself to read the room numbers and walk toward Rissa’s room.

When she found it, the door was closed. Looking at the door made her stomach hurt and she dreaded opening it, but she knew how much the woman on the other side needed her right then.
Maybe she didn’t lose the
baby. Maybe it’s just a complication. They can fix complications. Maybe…
Marlea closed her eyes, wished she could stop shaking, and prayed.
Whatever is on the other side of the door, please help Rissa to bear it. Dench is on the way, Lord. Please let me be enough until he gets here.
Straightening her shoulders, Marlea opened her eyes and pushed the door open.

White, beige, and deep gray shadow dominated the room. Stepping in, Marlea let the door close behind her. Rissa lay on the narrow white-sheeted bed in the middle of the room, silent and unmoving. Plastic tubes at her face and inner arm delivered oxygen and glucose. On the wall behind her, one low-wattage light bar burned and a monitor beeped regularly, verifying her heart rate and breathing.
Whatever else happened, she’s alive.
Marlea licked her lips and stepped forward. “Rissa?”

“Here.” The single word was filled with bitter defeat.

“I thought you could use some company.” Looking around, Marlea found a neutral-colored chair and pulled it from the corner. “I brought your purse, and I called Dench. He’s on the way.”

The cracked sob and sudden movement on the bed stole the strength from Marlea’s legs, dumping her into the chair. “Rissa?”

Rissa pushed the oxygen tube down and pulled the edges of the sheet to her nose. Holding the sheet tightly, she sniffed hard and turned her face to Marlea. “Thank you for getting me here.”

“Of course…”

“I wish I was dead.” The sheet twitched as she pulled it again. Marlea reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table. Rissa pushed them away and twisted the sheet to her face. “I lost the baby.”

Though she’d half expected them, the words raked Marlea’s soul. “Rissa, I am so sorry.”

“All I had to do was hold on.” Bitterness slimed her words. “I couldn’t do it. I tried and I just couldn’t do it.”

“Rissa, it’s not your fault.”

“Who else do you think was carrying the baby?” Rissa snorted and choked. “I should have seen the specialist like they said, but I was so damned tired of doctors and everything was going so well.” She turned swollen, red-rimmed eyes to Marlea. “It’s my fault, all my fault.”

Rissa snatched her hand away when Marlea reached for it. “I wanted this baby so badly. And Dench, he…”

Marlea settled for pulling her chair close enough to hold Rissa’s gaze with her own. “You already know that man will forgive you anything. He’ll never blame you for something that is so clearly not your fault.”

Rissa glared, then turned her face away.

“Look, I’m not trying to minimize your pain.” Marlea reached out, her fingers touching Rissa’s shoulder. “Of all the people you know, I know what it is to wake up in the hospital and have your life irrevocably changed.”

A despondent tremor shivered through Rissa’s body and she curled in on herself. “Marlea, you got hit by a car and woke up without two toes. You lost a chance to make the Olympic team, but you got a second chance in the Paralympics. I lost a baby. Now you have a good shoemaker and I have an empty womb—where’s the justice in that?”

Ashamed to say the words, Marlea admitted, “There is none.” In her heart, she heard the words she would never say:
This was never about justice, was it? This was about heart’s desire and love unfulfilled. This was about investing everything and not having anything but pain and emptiness to show for it. This was about losing faith, and losing yourself in the effort.

The tremors shaking Rissa’s body grew deeper and Marlea hurt for her. At a loss, she pressed both hands to Rissa’s back and laid her head against them, wishing she knew how to fix this, how to make it better—but she had nothing.
Please, God,
she prayed,
where is Dench?

AJ pulled into the parking lot and shoved the gear into park.
If I go into the deck, I’ll miss him for sure.
He turned the key and pulled it from the ignition.
He won’t get past me here.
The thought had no sooner occurred to him than he saw the truck. Dench made a two-point turn and AJ hit his horn.

Seeing him, Dench angled the truck into a slot and hit the ground running. AJ bailed out of his own truck two steps behind him. The two men ran for the hospital entrance like the wide receiver and running back they had once been. The doors slid open before them, but not fast enough. Dench’s shoulder hit one, sending it swinging as he plowed toward Admissions. “Rissa Traylor,” he demanded. “Where is she?”