Dream Keeper (11 page)

“But this is a new start, and I can do this.” She flipped open the mirror she’d left on the desk and went to work with the wad of tissue, trying to erase the ravages of her tears. She bent and jammed her hand blindly into her purse for lipstick and mascara. She didn’t feel much like putting the stuff on, but it was expected.

She looked down at her blouse; the tearstained silk was drying but still obvious. She pulled at her jacket until she was satisfied that the worst of the spotting was covered. Then she brushed her fingers over her hair and pushed away from her desk. Concentrating on her breathing, she picked up Jimmy Clarence’s contract and almost called Karee to pick it up, then decided to walk it to the front herself. “I can do this.”

At the desk, Karee looked up in time to see Rissa walking toward her. She leapt to her feet and rushed around the desk and accepted the contracts. “Oh, Rissa, I could have come back for that.”

“Not a problem.” Rissa looked around, surprised at the general quiet around her. “Where is everybody?”

“Yvette wasn’t feeling well, so she left for the day. Helen is out, filing some stuff at the courthouse.” Karee walked back around the desk and sat. “The interns are at the library, and we still close at three on Fridays.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

“I guess I’ll go back and put my nose to the grindstone, then, do a little catch-up work.” Walking back to her office, feeling Karee’s eyes, Rissa felt a lick of shame at the things she’d said to Yvette.
I hurt her feelings. She never leaves early, and she left early today because of me.

Knowing that she would have to apologize, Rissa closed her office door and headed for her desk. The cake James Clarence delivered still sat on the corner of her desk, and she reached for the box. Lifting the lid, she peeked in—the cake was a high, creamy frosted work of art.
I should have given this to Yvette. She likes cake. Maybe she would forget enough of what I said…maybe she would forgive me for a cake like this.

Rissa closed the box and pushed the cake away.
I need to get some work done. That was my reason for coming in today.
She opened a desk drawer and looked at her pending files, then spent the next two hours reviewing contracts for two players who were unhappy with their teams. One of the men was due to become a free agent this year, and all she had to do was keep the other one out of jail—that was enough to keep anyone busy.

Running her fingers through the new, longer hair edging her neck, she read through the files and tried to focus on a game plan. The harder she tried, the foggier her thoughts became.
It’s all that time I took off, that and the argument I had with Yvette today.
She turned a page in the file and tried to make notes, but her focus was off. Her stomach rumbled and ached a little.
Maybe if I eat something, I’ll feel better. I’ll get Karee to pick up a sandwich for me.
She touched the speaker and tapped in Karee’s extension. The phone rang six times, and cut off. She tried again, and still no answer.

Going to the door, she was surprised to see the space beyond her office cast in afternoon shadow. “Karee?” No answer made her check her watch—four-fifteen. “And the office closed at three,” she remembered, stepping back into her office.

Knowing the sandwich was out of the question, she found yogurt in the mini-fridge and silently blessed Yvette for saving her from starvation. She licked strawberry yogurt from the container lid and tossed it into the trash. Digging into a drawer, she found a plastic spoon. Eating slowly, pacing herself, she tried to think her work through to a logical conclusion—though logic didn’t seem to be her strong suit today.

For all the good I’ve done this week, I could have stayed home. For all the damage I’ve done today, I should have stayed home.
Trying not to think, she spooned more yogurt and almost choked when the phone rang. “Karee must have set them on night mode.” She picked up the phone and barely opened her mouth.

“Rissa?” Jimmy Clarence was more than she could take right now and she almost hung up when she heard his voice. “Rissa, please! Are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said, against her better judgment.

“I thought it was my phone,” he shouted, breathless and nearly incoherent in his excitement. “We just got here! The hospital, we just made it, but we’re all here!”

“Jimmy, that’s great.” Her stomach cramped.

“All of us, Rissa. Sierra, my mother, me, and James Jr.”

Thick air clogged her throat and for a second, the room shimmered around her. Swinging an arm behind her, she found her chair, and managed to sit before she fell. “The baby is here?”

“He came at exactly four-fifteen. We almost didn’t make it.” The boxer laughed. “Everything happened at once: Sierra’s water broke, we got in the car, we got here, we got a baby! Sierra, man, she was like a champ—she wasn’t in labor ten minutes, and Rissa, you ought to see him. I’ve never seen anything like him.”

The strawberry yogurt soured in her throat and Rissa nearly gagged. Fighting for control, she closed her eyes and held the phone in both hands. “That’s wonderful, Jimmy. Congratulations. How is Sierra?”

“She’s here. Here, baby.”

The phone was passed from hand to hand and Sierra’s soft voice came through. “Well, Rissa, we did it. He’s here.”

“Congratulations, Sierra. I can’t wait to see him. What does he weigh? How long is he?”

The new mother’s pride was broadcast over the cellphone. “He’s seven pounds, eight ounces, and he’s twenty inches long—a lot of baby for me! I’m kind of prejudiced, but I think he’s the most beautiful baby ever born, but you’ll see him soon. Here’s Jimmy…oh! You and Dench never gave us an answer, and the baby is here now.…” She yawned. “Let us know soon.”

“Soon…”

The phone passed again and Jimmy was on the line. “They’re bringing him in now, Rissa, and I think my mama is gonna pass out from sheer joy. We’ll call you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Rissa swallowed bitterness and wanted to cry again. Instead she turned to her computer and switched it on. When the system booted fully, she did a search for the prewritten press release. The document came up and she inserted all the details, then saved it to Karee’s file. Karee would be in for her half-day tomorrow; she could send it out first thing in the morning.

Tonight though, James and Sierra Clarence would hold their baby in their arms.
And I’ve got a cake.
Sierra would be able to touch, kiss, and cuddle her child. Elbow propped on the desk, Rissa clamped down on the pain she felt leaking into her soul and refused to think of what Sierra and James Clarence must be feeling right about now—about the feelings she and Dench had been denied.

Intentionally numbing herself and ignoring the white bakery box on the corner of her desk, Rissa reached for her purse and fumbled until she found her wallet. Pulling out a credit card, she turned back to the computer and hit the internet. Clicking on the search box, she searched for flowers. When the sites came up she selected a bouquet and ordered it, then did the same thing for a layette.

Determined to keep moving, to stay busy, she scribbled a note to herself.
Be sure to visit tomorrow.
She almost added a time, then hesitated. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for the new family; maybe a visit should be postponed. Her stomach twisted on a bit of unbidden angst and Rissa suddenly felt empty, a husk of a woman, and she wished again that…but it wasn’t meant to be. She logged off the computer and swung her chair around to look out the window at the sky darkening over Buckhead.

“Why her? Why not me?” Tears stung her eyes and she felt guilty but justified in asking for an answer. “How did this happen?” She heard the anger in her voice and her soul ached when she questioned everything she’d ever believed in. “I don’t smoke, I quit drinking when we started the fertility testing. I’ve never had an abortion. I guard my health better than the government guards Fort Knox.” The threatened tears fell and Rissa heard the hysteria in her voice even as she set it free. “Why? I waited all this time and then I lose what’s mine. All this time and all I get is a damned cake.”

Her ragged breath tore through her chest when she looked at the cake in its white bakery box, and she hated cake baking Brenda Clarence. Half rising from her chair, Rissa grabbed the box and threw it across the room. The smashed cake, the soiled box, and the smell of chocolate sickened her.

“Why does God hate me so much? Why is He punishing me, denying Dench? Why?”

Folding her arms, she dropped her head to the desktop and gave in to anger and frustration. Silent weeping gave way to sobs and wet, heaving breaths as her passion and pain unraveled. On her desk, her phone rang, and she knew it was her private line but didn’t answer—the last thing she needed was an ebullient Jimmy Clarence sharing more good news. Her sad, jealous tears flowed heavier.

The stupid phone rang ten times, stopped, then rang again. When her cellphone rang, Rissa started to reach for her purse, but slipped instead from her chair. Landing on her knees, feeling the pop and run of her hose, she didn’t care about the phone.
What the hell can I do about anything?
Her leg shot out, kicking the purse away, silencing the evil phone.

How many unwanted black babies are there in the world? All I wanted was one, only one!
Wrapping her arms around herself, rocking, she pressed her back against the desk and wept.

Her cellphone lay amid the debris spilled from her purse, and if her kick had not dislodged the battery, Rissa might have heard her cellphone ring again. As it was, the incessant but now silent phone rang four more times before Dench thumbed the disconnect on his phone when the call went straight to voicemail.

“Where in the world is she?”

“Who?” AJ looked up from his computer, then back down. He might have been an NFL Hall of Famer and an excellent physical therapist, but he still handled the keyboard with a distinctive two-fingered hunt-and-peck style.

“Rissa.” Dench ignored the ticking of AJ’s typing. “She’s not answering her phone. I thought she might have already left the office, so I tried her cell and she’s not answering.”

“Maybe she’s busy.”

“Who’s busy?” Marlea’s windsuit whispered echoes of her energy when she walked into AJ’s office and across the room to drop a kiss on his forehead. Waiting for an answer, she parked a hip on AJ’s desk and looked at Dench.

“This is not right.” Dench sat wide in the chair across from AJ’s desk and tried the call again. This time when the call went to voicemail, he cleared his throat and spoke into the phone. “Rissa, baby, this is Dench. I’m with AJ and Marlea and we’re waiting for you.”

“And you should hurry up,” Marlea called across the room.

“Because we’re hungry and my kids have to be in bed before nine,” AJ added, rising from his desk. Agile and long-limbed, he stretched before collecting the patient file from his desk.

Cupping his hand around the phone, Dench glared at the couple and lowered his voice. “Anyway, sweetie, just call me back—let me know that you’re all right.”

“You sound worried,” AJ said. He jammed the completed file into the cabinet and shoved the drawer closed. “Rissa’s a big girl and she’s fine, probably just got tied up with something and forgot about the time.”

“Yeah, the time.” Dench turned the phone between his hands, then flipped it open and called again. He listened and frowned. “Damned voicemail.”

Marlea shook a warning finger at him. “Easy on the swearing. You know my children adore you, and they’ll repeat almost anything you say.”

“Especially Nia. She really likes words and phrases that revolve around the word ‘damn.’ ” AJ grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dench stood, with Rissa clearly on his mind. “Maybe I need to take a ride downtown, just to make sure she’s okay.”

“It’ll probably be a waste of gas. You’ll pass her on the way home. You know that my sister not only cannot keep a secret, she’s chronically late. That girl has been slow all of her life—all a part of her enduring charm.”

“Dude, she may be your sister, but she’s my wife. If she calls, tell her that I’m on my way.” Heading for his truck, Dench made a quick detour through the kitchen. Mrs. Baldwin worked at the stone sink while Jabari sat on the floor and worked at reading to an attentive and adoring Nia.

Someday…

Dench pushed through the side door and climbed into his truck.
Rissa’s fine,
he promised himself.
AJ and Marlea are right, she just got all caught up in what she was doing and forgot about the time. That’s all.
Turning the key, he set his eyes on the road ahead and stomped on the gas. Following the curves of Cascade and entering highway traffic, Dench held onto the single thought:
She just forgot about the time, that’s all. She’s fine.

Working his truck through the evening traffic, maneuvering around a pair of accidents, he tried calling her again—straight to voicemail each time. Pulling into the underground parking lot of the Hanover Building, Dench heard himself muttering under his breath, “She just forgot about the time, she’s fine.”

Ignoring the RESERVED sign, Dench pulled into the slot next to Rissa’s small BMW and climbed out of the truck. The deck was mostly empty. Besides her car, only two others waited on the same deck level and Dench felt his heart bang in his chest.
She just forgot about the time, she’s fine.
He refused to consider anything else as he jogged toward the building’s lobby. Raising his hand to the security guard Rissa always snagged Falcon tickets for, still muttering, he jogged faster, determined to will her safe and well if he had to.

In the lobby, he jabbed the elevator call button and paced while he waited. Watching the numbers above the elevators descend as the car neared the lobby seemed endless. By the time the car finally reached the lobby, Dench was ready to give in to the urge to run up the stairs, but he stepped on board and pressed the button for her floor instead.

She just forgot about the time, she’s fine
, he reminded himself again.