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Christmas With The Enemy by Kiru Taye
A
short story (originally published at The Nuthouse Scribblers, Dec 2012)
Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the Commissioner for Health, James
Ebie to the Godson’s Christmas Ball!
The announcer’s voice is loud and eloquent, his words
travelling across the grand hall above the guests murmurings. Two of them echo
in my head, the reverberations of my world crumbling like shattered glass.
James Ebie. My enemy.
Thick bile clogs my throat. Loathing coats my tongue with
bitterness. Instinct tells me to walk back to the kitchen. My empty tray needs
refilling with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
Still, I twist my neck to get a better view. The ballroom is
full, every dignitary of note in Delta State present. The ladies’ glittering
jewels compete with their glitzy evening dresses, their tresses of Brazilian
extensions coifed to perfection, their hands and feet manicured to reflect
every colour of the rainbow.
My clothes are much humbler. A white short-sleeved blouse
and navy-blue fitted skirt, one size too big. A standard issue for domestic
staff in the Inemi-Spiff household. My hair is a wash, twist and go style. Low
maintenance. I can’t afford the cost of a weekly stylist or the chemicals to
get it looking sleek. The payments for my lecturers’ handouts are higher on my
list of needs.
As luck will have it, a gap appears providing a direct vista
to my quarry, for at the moment he is the prey and I’m the hunter. The notion
bolsters my courage, giving purpose to my actions.
I suck in a deep breath to quell the excited churning of my
stomach, the scent of spiced apples and mulled wine mixed with more local
spices fills my lungs. The hosts have spared no expense creating a traditional Christmas
feast in this old British Consulate building.
Except, there are no log fires or snow. This is Africa after
all, and though it hasn’t rained for a few weeks, outside the air is humidly
warm. The quiet hum of the hidden air-conditioners fills the space with cool
air.
A rich sound of laughter draws me deeper into the room. There
is something about it so vibrant and compelling that has me taking steps I know
I shouldn’t. It’s as if the owner of the voice has corded my body with ropes
and is pulling me closer to him. He calls to me in a way nothing else ever has.
Standing before Mr and Mrs Inemi-Spiff is a tall man in a
black slim-fitting tuxedo. I don’t need to see his face to know that he is the
new state commissioner for Health.
My breath snags in my throat as something unnameable unfurls
in the depths of my belly.
Even from behind he is breathtaking—shoulder-length black
locks brushed back and held together with a black band, square broad shoulders
and torso that taper at the hips. The way his silk trousers cling to his
backside makes me imagine tight, sinewy muscles beneath the fabric.
Despite the warmth, my body trembles. Lifting my empty hand,
I rub my left upper arm covered in goose bumps.
Something makes him turn and he stares straight at me.
I swallow. Hard. The most captivating black eyes I’ve ever
seen keep me enthralled, swirling in an abyss of black and gold desire. His
gaze is intense as if he sees me, reads me. Knows me.
Never! Shaking my head, I lower my stare, although my cheeks
heat with the fury of a gas burner.
I’m not the innocent little girl who adored him once. A long
time ago. That was before everything changed. Before his family tore mine to
shreds.
Angry, I swivel and walk back to the kitchen, where I
should’ve been in the first place. I won’t think of him again.
For the rest of the event, I avoid any table or corner with
James in it. The live band plays a mixture of jazz and highlife. The crystal
chandeliers glitter immaculately, adding more sparkle to the atmosphere.
A lady in a glamorous black dress totters backwards in
stilettos, crashing into me. My tray slips, sending glasses of champagne
crashing onto the polished marble floor. For a moment all I can hear is the
deafening crack of crystal against stone.
A rush of heat scalds my neck and face with embarrassment. Kneeling
down, I pick broken shards onto the aluminium tray. The hem of my skirt is
soaked with champagne but I don’t care. My job is on the line and I can’t
afford to lose it.
Moreover if I don’t look up, I won’t see the contemptuous
expressions on the faces of the guests.
“Evelyn, are you okay?”
The kind female voice has me looking up. Christy, the new
mistress of Godson Villa and my boss, leans over me in her sleeveless fitted
ball gown—a green silk Basque top and ruffled Ankara skirt. Her beautiful
heart-shaped face is very expressive. She is truly concerned.
“I’m sorry, madam.”
She dismisses my apologetic murmur with a wave.
“Colin, bring a mop and bucket,” she says to another servant
before turning back to me. “You need to be careful so you don’t cut yourself.”
“Christy, there you are. Joshua sent me to find you. It’s
time for your dance.”
That voice again!
“Hi, James. I’m just trying to sort out this spill so it
doesn’t cause any further accidents.”
Colin arrives and starts cleaning up.
“I’m so glad you and
Joshua worked things out,” James whispers.
But my ears are attuned to his voice and strain to capture
every word even though I’m eavesdropping.
“So am I.” Christy laughed. “I’m having the best Christmas
ever. Now it’s your turn to find the woman of your dreams.”
James’s deep chuckle vibrates through me. At the same time
he lowers his gaze to meet mine.
I’m caught again. James’ intense expression alarms me. It is
as if he’s found the woman of his dreams.
And it’s me!
Agitated, I grip the wrong end of glass. Drops of crimson
coat the tray.
A warm hand wraps my shoulders. Another reaches for my
bloody fingers.
“Let me see that.”
James stoops beside me, his scent—a mixture of cologne and
male spice—rumbas around me provocatively.
“Oh no! I told you to be careful.” Christy arms enfold me as
she helps me stand.
“Go and dance with your husband before he comes looking for
you,” James says, his words oozing with charm. “I’ll take care of her. I’m a
doctor.”
He winks at me and grabs a clean napkin to bind the cut.
“Okay. Evelyn, take the rest of the day off.”
“Madam, I can’t. I need the job,” I protest.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get paid. Come and see me tomorrow and
I’ll see about assigning you something less strenuous.”
Relieved, I nod and she walks away.
I tug out of James’ hold. “Thank you, but I can take care of
this.”
Somehow, walking away from him requires a lot more will
power than staying. Halfway to the exit, he catches up with me and blocks my
path.
“I wasn’t joking. I’m a qualified surgeon and that cut looks
bad. If you don’t treat it properly, you could lose your finger.”
Blood drains from my face, my jaw slackens.
The nightmare of trying to write or type without an index
finger flashes through my mind. What will become of my degree programme? I
couldn’t drop out so close to the finish line.
He notices my skin’s pallor and smiles with a mischievous
twinkle in his eyes.
“Maybe you won’t lose your finger.” He shrugs. “But it could
get infected and God knows what will happen.”
“Okay. You win,” I snap. My hand throbs with acute pain.
“You can treat it.”
It’ll be silly to refuse free treatment. If I went to
hospital, I’ll have to pay even before a doctor sees me and I can’t afford such
luxury.
Anyway, the cut is James’ fault. His attendance at the ball
instigated my injury.
He leads me outside into the warm sunshine. The sweet scent
of purple hibiscus mixes with the briny sea breeze. Pink bougainvillea hangs
down white walls.
Anxious knots tighten in my stomach as we arrive at one of
the holiday villas tucked in a secluded corner behind hibiscus hedges. I
shouldn’t be alone with this man who elicits such jumbled emotions with his
mere presence.
Inside is an open plan living area with kitchen units and a breakfast
bar in the corner. The walls are off-white, the furniture brown earth tones. In
another corner stands a decorated Christmas tree, tinsel and baubles glittering
gold with boxes of presents underneath.
“Please, take a seat.” James waves in the direction of the
sofas. “I’ll bring out the emergency kit.”
Not long after I sit down, he returns with a physician’s bag
and bowl. He proceeds to clean and bandage the wound. His actions are clinical,
his kindness evident from his gaze. I know then he’s an excellent physician.
What I would’ve given to have someone like him treat my
mother when she was ill? Tears prickle the back of my eyes and I shut them
tight, drawing in a slow calming breath.
“Here, have these.”
I lift my lashes and behold a welcome sachet of painkillers.
Popping two in my mouth, I accept the glass of water he holds out.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He clears up and returns to sit beside me on the sofa. I
shift as far away as I can.
“So what do you do?”
“I’m a final year law student.” Though there’s space between
us, his warmth wraps me in an encompassing cocoon. I shrug off the intoxicating
effect and stand. “Thank you for your help but I have to go.”
“Stay...please.”
The tendril of his gentle plea reaches within me, turning my
hard resolve to liquid compliance.
“There’s something about you that reminds me of a girl I
used to know long ago.”
My heart stops...and thuds away with the ferocity of jungle
drums. I stare at him, mesmerised, the urge to leave dissipating. He isn’t
looking at me, but someplace beyond the large windows.
“Your beautiful, intelligent, brown eyes remind me of someone
whose mother used to take care of my family home. I don’t know. Perhaps it’s
just my imagination.”
His shoulders lift and the sigh that leaves his lips is one
of resignation.
“You can go. You don’t have to listen to me live through my
past.”
Something dark and tortured floats in his eyes. Instantly, I
recognise the lost soul within, as tormented as mine.
Without thinking, I reach for him. “Tell me about this
girl.”
His black gaze searches my face.
“Her name was Evelyn Dokubo. Her parents used to work for
us, her dad as our gateman, her mother as the housekeeper. She was a lot
younger than I was, much closer to my sister’s age. They played together
sometimes.”
Memories flood back, overwhelming me with powerful emotions.
Playing with Jemima, helping my mother run errands in large Ebie mansion. Good
times, lost forever. I suck in a sharp breath.
“Something terrible happened. There was a robbery at our
house resulting in my sister getting shot.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as I know he’ll see my anguish
otherwise. But I can still hear agony in his voice as he continues.
“Her father was implicated as an inside man and sent to
jail. The rest of her family were sent away and I never heard from them again.”
He lets out a ragged sigh.
“Now my father is a sick man filled with regrets. He admits
he was too harsh for letting a little girl and her mother pay for her father’s
crimes. Now he wants to find her and pay restitution. I too have regrets for
not changing my father’s mind before it was too late. Now I’ve lost the only
woman I ever loved and I’m left half the man I could be. I just wish that
wherever she is, she can forgive my family.”
Just hearing him speak the words of remorse is like someone
turning on the faucet. I let go of all my bottled-up emotions. Tears flow unrestrained.
“My mother died not long after that. I guess the shame of
what my father did and the destitution we faced broke her.” I force the words
through a clogged throat.
He stands rock still, staring at me with expectation.
“I don’t want your father’s money but I’ll take your love.”
Kneeling before me, he palms my face. In his eyes, his love
and desire burn bright. The young man I loved once stares at me. The man I love
now.
“Joshua knew I was searching for you. So when he told me you
worked for him, I had to come here. I need you.”
He seals our lips together. Passion erupts. Clothes fly. We’re
flesh to flesh in his bed. Our loving is fervent, just the way I always
imagined it.
Later, he recovers a box from beneath the tree, and kisses
the back of my hand, sending tingles down my spine. “Marry me, my love. Make me
whole again.”
“Yes,” I squeal with delight, even more awed as I stare at
the sapphire engagement ring.
As we make love again 'Locked Out Of Paradise' by Bruno Mars
plays on the radio.
Serendipity is an awesome thing. My past will frame my
future.
My enemy is now my lover.
Copyright Kiru Taye 2012
Christmas With The Enemy is a spin-off story from Island Bound, a contemporary Christmas romance by Kiru Taye published by Decadent Publishing.
Island Bound is currently discounted on SALE from $3.99 to $0.99 for a limited period.
Available from Amazon US | Amazon UK | All Romance
What a wonderful Christmas short story! Kiru does it so well! I love her work. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteBelinda G
Thank you for stopping by, Belinda! Merry Christmas!
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