Turned Upside Down/Hidden #writephoto

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Samuel Villan stood on the rocks, looking at the stream winding its way in at an unhurried pace.  This was his favorite place.  It was where he came when he wanted to think, to clear his mind and to forget…

Life had been fairly quiet and uneventful for him since Julia died.  It had been twenty years since she passed away.  They never had any children.  When, her older sister died from complications after giving birth to her son, Julia and he adopted him.  His father had been killed in the line of duty.  He was a police officer.

After Julia died, he and her nephew became close.  It was nice having him around during those tough times but now he was gone.  He had moved to London where he was living and working.  During the holidays, he would visit and they would go for long walks or sit by the fireplace and talk.  Sometimes, they played Chess.

Yes, life was relatively simple, some even, say it was dull but it was how he liked it–no stress, no complications.  That was until, she came and turned his world upside down.

It all began last year Christmas when he was expecting Colin to visit as he usually did.  This time, however, he didn’t come alone.  He brought a Nigerian girl he worked with.  The moment Samuel laid his eyes on her, he knew that he was in danger of falling in love with her.  She was stunning with eyes that were large and framed by long lashes.  Her skin was smooth and flawless.  Her hair was cut short like a boy’s but it flattered her.  Her neck was long and slender.  She moved with such grace and had a pleasant voice.  She was vivacious and the entire house seemed to come alive when she was there.  He could tell that she liked him.  She was always seeking him out and seemed to enjoy his company.  While Colin was out walking the dogs, she would remain at the manor and sit in the drawing-room with him.  He taught her how to play Chess.

One afternoon when they were alone in the drawing-room, he got up from the chair in front of the fireplace and went over to the window to look out.  She joined him.  They stood there for a while, not saying anything but were acutely aware of each other.  “Do you get lonely being here by yourself?” she asked, staring straight ahead.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Would be it presumptuous of me to ask if I can visit you sometimes?”

He looked at her then.  “Do you want to?”

She looked at him and nodded.  “Yes.”

She was staring at him so intently that he felt his face grow hot.  He stood there, not knowing what to do or say.  He wanted her to visit him as often as she could but was afraid of what would happen if she did.  She ignited in him an unquenchable fire and filled him with a fierce hunger.  He never imagined that he would ever feel this way about a girl half his age.  “What about Colin?” he finally asked.  “Wouldn’t he mind you coming to see me?”

“Why would he?”

“Aren’t you and he…?”

She shook her head.  “No.  We’re just friends.”

“I thought you were his girlfriend.”

“No, I’m single–like you.”

“I’m a widower.”

“We’re both single.  We’re not seeing other people so what’s preventing us from seeing each other?”

He blinked.  He wasn’t used to such forthrightness.  It thrilled him.  It also scared him.  “Are you always this direct?”

“Sometimes.  I like you, Samuel and I know that you like me.  I think we should give us a try.”

He swallowed hard when she moved closer.  “I would like that very much,” he muttered.

She was standing right in front of him now and reaching up, she kissed him on the lips. “You’re standing under the mistletoe,” she said when she drew back.  They were both breathing heavily.

He reached for her and kissed her with all the passion that consumed him.  Their moment was interrupted several minutes later by the sound of barking and Colin’s voice.  That night, they continued where they left off when he went to her room.

He ran his fingers through his hair now as he stood there by the stream.  For twenty years, he had lived a life of solitude, interrupted by Colin’s yearly visits but now, here, he was, the happiest he had ever been.  Yes, life was exciting and wonderful now that she was in it.  He turned now as she joined him.  He smiled and putting his arm around her shoulder, he drew her to him.  She slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head against him.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

She placed her hand on her swollen stomach.  “Extremely happy,” she replied.  In seven months, they were going to have their first child.

Sometimes, when you least expect it, love comes along and turns your world upside down – Notes to Women

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Hidden at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

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A New Start

I’m sitting at the airport, waiting for my flight to London where the next chapter of my life takes me.  It was a job that was too good to pass up but now I’m having second thoughts.  It’s taking me away from you.  We’ve been friends since childhood.  We’ve never been apart.  I feel as if I’m leaving a big chunk of myself behind.  I will miss our walks and talks.  I will miss the way you laugh hard because I said or did something silly, until, tears are running down your cheeks.  I will miss grabbing your hand and pulling you behind me like I used to when we were kids.

I wonder if you have read my letter as yet.  It took a lot of courage for me to write it.  It’s a scary thing for a guy to tell his best friend that he’s in love with her and ask her to give up her life to start a new one with him in a new city thousands of miles from the one she calls home.   Is what I’m asking you to do, selfish, foolish?  I know that if you were to ask me to do the same thing, I would do it in a heartbeat.  But, I must remember that you’re not me.  You might not want to disrupt your life for me.

Still, I’m hoping that you will at least consider it because I really can’t imagine my life without you in it.  I know that we promised we would be friends for life, but I want to be more than friends with you.  I want you to be my partner in life.  Your beautiful face is the first thing I want to see when I wake up in the mornings and the last thing I see each night before I go to sleep.

I glance at my watch.  Soon, I will be boarding the plane.  My heart is heavy.  I don’t want to leave.  I reach for my cell.  Should I call you?  I want to hear your voice.  I hesitate.  Then, I hear you call my name.  At first, I think I’m imagining it.  Then, I hear my name again and I turn around.  There you are, coming towards me.  I stare at you incredulously, my breath catching in my throat.  I rise quickly to my feet.  It is then that  I notice you are pulling a piece of carry-on luggage behind you.  My eyes widen.  Does this mean…?

“I read your note,” she said when she was standing right in front of me.  “The answer is yes!  I called the airline and luckily there was a cancellation.  And here I am.”

My heart is pounding.  “Are you sure?” I ask.  I want to be sure that this is what she really wants.

She nodded.  “Yes.  My life is with you.”  She reached up and touched my face.  Her fingers felt soft against my skin.

I turn my head and press my lips into her palm.  When I look at her, she is staring at me and I her love for me shining in her beautiful eyes.  I draw her to me, not caring about the people around us and I whispered, “I love you,” before I kiss her.

We kiss for several minutes, just relishing the moment before we were interrupted by the PA system announcing that it was time for us to board the plane.  I reluctantly let her go and gather my carry on bag and jacket.  Then, I remind myself that I will enjoy a lifetime of holding her in my arms.  I smile as we joined the other passengers.  London and an exciting future together awaited us.

 

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The Missionary/Calm #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

 

“When you went off on a missionary trip to Africa, we certainly didn’t expect you to come back with a wife,” Mrs. Cartland exclaimed, her expression one of disdain as she looked at her son.

Rolf sighed.  “Naija isn’t my wife, Mother.  I’m not sure why you think she is.  I’m sure I was clear in my letter that if I didn’t do something, she was going to be taken out of school and married off to a man old enough to be her grandfather.  In Nigeria, girls like Naija and younger are given in marriage without their consent.”

“And so you decide to bring her to England.  What about her parents?  I can’t imagine that they would let you just whisk their daughter away like that.”

“Her parents and I came up with an arrangement which will benefit all parties.  They were going to give her away in marriage because they are poor and need the money.  The man they were going to marry her to, has money but I offered them more money in exchange for marriage that Naija come to England instead.  I will put her through university.  After, she graduates, it is up to her if she wants to remain here or return to Nigeria.  Her parents agreed that if she should return, she is not expected to be married off but can get a job so she could continue to support them.  While she is here, I will send money to them on a regular basis to keep them.”

“You’re going to send them money?” Mrs. Cartland was aghast.  “And how long do you propose to do that?”

“Until Naija can afford to support them herself.”

“And when exactly will that be?”

“When she finds steady employment after graduating from university.”

“I fear, my Dear, that she’s going to take advantage of your generosity and you will find yourself supporting her for longer than is necessary.  You’re far too indulgent and gullible when it comes to the dregs of society.”

Rolf’s lips tightened but he held his temper in check.  “Mother, I appreciate your concern, but Naija isn’t like that at all.”

Mrs. Cartland didn’t look at all convinced and was about to say something else when her daughter, Rosalind spoke up.  “Rolf, let’s go for a walk.  It looks absolutely gorgeous outside.  Mother, please excuse us.”

Grateful for the interruption, he rose to his feet and after excusing himself, he followed her out of the room.  “Thank you for that,” he said to Rosalind as they walked down the hallway.

She glanced at him.  “No problem.  I could see that you were trying very hard not to blow your top.  And Mother can be very irritating at times.”

“At times?”

Rosalind laughed.  “All right.  Most of the time.”

Rolf’s lips twitched.  They were outside now and it was a gorgeous day.  “Let’s take a walk by the stream.”

“What a splendid idea!”

The stream was about a ten minute walk from the family’s mansion.  “Do you remember when Dad used to bring us here on a Sunday morning?  While he and I fished, you fed the ducks pieces of bread from the egg and cheese sandwiches Mrs. Hogwarth made?”

“Yes and I remember getting pecked by one of them and Dad had to bandage my hand with his handkerchief.  I was scared of the ducks after that.”

“Yes, that’s how Mrs. Hogwarth found out that you fed her sandwiches to them and she clobbered you.”

“Yes, I was scared of her after then too.  Oh, Rolf, what a riotous childhood we had.  I miss Dad.”

“I miss him too.”

“He would be so proud of you, being a missionary and all.  It was something he himself loved.  He always regretted leaving the field when he married Mother.  She never understood his love for it.  She preferred being the wife of a government minister rather a missionary’s.”

“I love being in full-time ministry, helping communities in London and overseas.  It’s how I met Naija.”

“You’re in love with Naija, aren’t you?” Rosalind commented, looking at him closely.

He blushed.  Nothing ever escaped her.  “Yes,” he admitted quietly.

“I see the way you look and act around her.”

“Can you imagine how Mother would react if she knew?”

Rosalind waved her hand dismissively.  “It doesn’t matter what Mother or anyone else thinks, Rolf.  You have to follow your heart.  It’s your life, your future and your happiness that are at stake here.  Remember, Mother wanted me to marry Reginald but I married Maxwell instead?  Reginald was a good man but I didn’t love him.  I was mad about Maxwell and we have been happily married for twenty-six years now.”

“I think you made an excellent choice.  Maxwell is an exceptional man.”

“Thank you and yes, he is.  Does Naija know how you feel about her?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Don’t you think that perhaps it’s time you told her?”

His heart lurched.  “I don’t know,” he said in alarm.

“Come on, Rolf, don’t be such a coward.  Sometimes, happiness comes by taking chances.  I took a chance with Maxwell and looked how that turned out.”

What she said made a lot of sense but the thought of revealing his feelings to Naija was daunting.  He would have to think about it some more.  “I’ll think about it,” he said after a while.

Rosalind slipped her arm through his and smiled.  “All right,” she said.  “Sleep on it, then.”  They continued walking alongside the river, enjoying the sunshine and the quietness.

****************************************************

Naija was already at the park, waiting when Rolf got there the following afternoon.  He had just come from a staff meeting.  She smiled when she saw him and the large brown paper bag in his hand.  He smiled as he sat down beside her.  “Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  I got here about five minutes ago.  Thanks for getting this.  I’m starving.”

He opened the bag and took out a box of Fish and Chips and handed it to her along with a plastic knife and fork.  He took out the other box.  On the bench between them, he put the cups of flavored milk tea and the straws.   After he said Grace, they tucked into the food.  It tasted as good as it looked and smelled.  As they ate, they talked about different things.   And all the while, he was thinking about what Rosalind had said.  He wanted to tell Naija how he felt but he was terrified.

“What’s wrong?” Naija’s question startled him.

“Nothing,” was his quick response.  A pause and then, wanting to shift the attention away from himself, he asked, “What are you plans after you graduate from university?  Will you stay here in England or return home to your family?”

She thought about it.  “I’ll stay here,” she said.  “I’ll find a job or I can become a missionary and work for you.”

“Being a missionary is an admirable vocation but what are your dreams?  What would you really like to do with your life, Naija?”

“I like writing.  I like to write about what I see around me.”

“Sounds like you’re thinking of becoming a journalist.  That’s very good. Perhaps, you’ll let me see some of your writings.”

“I will,” she promised.  “I keep a journal.  It’s almost full.  I write about university, what I observe on the campus, what I hear on the News and the conversations I have had with my host family.  I’ve written a lot of things about you as well.”

His eyebrows arched.  “Really?  And what exactly have you written about me?”

“How you’ve been so good to me and how blessed I am that you came into my life.  I will always be indebted to you, Rolf.”

A muscle began to throb along his jawline.  “I’m the one who’s blessed,” he replied.  Their eyes were locked.  His heart was racing.  This is foolish, he thought.  I’m behaving like a lovesick fool over a girl almost half my age.  She just sees me as her benefactor, nothing more.  All she feels towards me is gratitude. 

“That isn’t all I wrote about you,” she said shyly.

He swallowed hard.  “What else did you write about me?”

She looked nervous now.  “Rolf, I know that I’m only eighteen years old but, I–I was hoping that our age difference wouldn’t matter to you.”

“What are you saying, Naija?”

“What-what I’m saying, is-is that I want us to-to be more than friends.”

He expelled his breath in an unsteady sigh.  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his expression tense.

She nodded at once.  “Yes,” she replied.  “It’s what I’ve wanted since we met.”

“Oh, Naija,” he cried, his cheeks suffusing with color.  He set the empty boxes aside and rose to his feet.  He reached down and pulled her up.  “It’s what I want too.”  He pulled her against him and his eager lips found hers.  Overhead the setting sun cast its crimson glow on them.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt –  Calm at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Sources: Erika and Eva Toh TravelsLondon City Mission

Meeting McKenzie

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Photo credit: JS Brand

I’m a happily married man with two adorable kids.  I’m standing here, in front of the magnificent Kelpies.  I remember the first time I brought my kids here.  Little Brody clung to my legs, terrified.  Cora’s eyes were huge in her little face as she gazed up at the massive sculptures.  I came here alone today.  The kids are in London with their Mom.

The day’s overcast.  I’m meeting McKenzie, the woman I’d gotten off on a murder charge due to lack of evidence.  She’s a stunning woman who married a man twenty years her senior.  His family had always believed that she’d married him for his money and that she was responsible for his death.  From all appearances, he’d died of a heart attack. There appeared to be no foul play.  When she received the not guilty verdict, his family was visibly upset and fought bitterly to contest his will which left everything to her.

“Hello, Counselor,” her voice interrupts my thoughts.  I turn to face her, my heart pounding.  “I was worried you wouldn’t show.”

I swallow hard.  “I almost didn’t.”

“I’m glad you did,” she says as she walks away.  I follow.

We head for the hotel.

 

200 Words

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Well Worth It/Watcher #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

I stand here, in the mist, waiting.  Waiting for you.  Every year, I come to the spot where we last parted company and where you promised me that you would be upon your return after the journey which called you away suddenly.   You stood before me, your eyes holding mine captive as you professed your love for me and promised me that only a matter of the most urgent nature could part you from me.  Then, you took me in your arms and held me so close that I could feel your beating heart.  I felt so safe and warm in your arms.  I didn’t want you to let me go.  But you did.  I suddenly felt very cold.  The tears mingled with the dew as you cupped my face between your hands and our lips met in a kiss that made my heart sing and cry at the same time.

When finally, we drew back, neither of us wanted to be the first to leave.  We stood there, delaying the inevitable, still holding hands and shrouded in the thick mist that rose above the hills.  Then, you said to me, “Close your eyes.”  And I did.  Even as I felt you let go of my hands, I kept my eyes closed.  After a while I slowly opened them and you were gone.  It was as if the mist had swallowed you up.  I stood there for some time, hoping that you would come back but you didn’t.

Weeks, months and even years passed and still you haven’t come back.  Every day I come here, hoping to find you or that you would come to me but all I see is the mist–the mist which rises above the mountains and the mist that covers my heart.  I read your letters over and over because they are all I have of you.  They fill me with sadness, joy, longing and hope.  They are stained with my tears.

How much longer shall we be apart, Alfred?  It has been ten, long years since we stood here.  I hold in my hand your most recent letter in which you swore that you will soon return.   Dare I hope again when my hopes have been dashed so many times?   The years apart have not lessened or dulled my love for you in fact they have intensified it but how long shall I continue to wait for you?  What if–I can hardly bear to think it, but sensibility says I must–you never return?  What if you decide that you would rather be a free agent?  Oh, the thought distresses me greatly.

I clutch the letter in my hand tightly.  I must believe that one day very soon we shall meet upon this mountain on a clear day.   Until then, I shall be here waiting for you.

I turn to leave and then I see you coming towards me.  I blinked, thinking that I am imagining it but you’re real and now you are running towards me.  I start to running towards you, laughing and tears running down my cheeks.  When we reach each other, you pick me up and swung me around.  I cling to you, feeling a little giddy but I’m over the moon.  Ten years, three months, four days and six hours later my wait was finally over.  Alfred and I were back together again.  After he put me down and I caught my breath, he got down on his knee and proposed.  Delirious with joy, I accepted and the following week we got married.

A couple of weeks later, we packed up and moved to London where Alfred worked as a solicitor in the office owned and run by the uncle whose urgent business was the cause for our long separation.  The said uncle had suddenly taken ill and needed someone to be in charge of his business until he recovered.  Since his nephew was a lawyer and a very promising one at that, he employed him.  His uncle was so impressed with him that even after he recovered from his illness, he encouraged him to remain in his employ.

When it seemed that his stay would be indefinite, Alfred begged to take leave of his uncle so that he could come back to me.  It was then his uncle suggested the move to London.  And here we are, living in London and not far from the famous Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street.  I like it here although I miss the mountains and the mist sometimes.  What matters most to me is not where I am but that I am with Alfred.  And nothing except death will part us.  And all those years I waited for him were well worth it.

True love is worth waiting for even if it takes a lifetime. Then in return a lifetime of love will be waiting for you – Anurag Prakash Ray

This story is in response to the Thursday Photo Prompt – Watcher for Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Shades of Love

For the first time in his life, Maxwell was in love. The problem was–his family wouldn’t approve.  Why?  The object of his affection was a very dark skinned Nigerian woman.  He was a light skinned black man with blue eyes whose parents were light skinned blacks from Barbados.  He always had a weakness for dark women although to please his parents, he dated the light skinned ones.  This woman was absolutely stunning but he knew that his family wouldn’t see past her color.  Even his friends when they saw him checking her out at the party where they met, they told him, “Man, she’s way too dark.  There are so many gorgeous black women here to choose from and you had to pick out the darkest one.”

Of course, he ignored them and walked up to her, his heart racing with nervousness and excitement.  She turned and it seemed like his heart stopped.  This close she was even more breathtaking.  Her beautiful eyes mesmerized him and her skin looked smooth and flawless.  The black cocktail dress hugged her perfect body and the strappy black sandals she wore accentuated her long and shapely legs.  She wore a jeweled choker around her slender neck.

“Maxwell,” he said, holding out his hand.

She put her hand in his.  “Adaolisa.”  They shook hands.

“That’s a pretty name.  What does it mean?”

“God’s daughter.”

“Adaolisa, you’re a very beautiful woman.”  I think you’re the most beautiful woman here.

She smiled.  “Thank you.  And you’re a very handsome man with the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He blushed.  “Thank you.  I detect an accent.  Where are you from?”

“Nigeria. I moved from Lagos to London when I was seventeen to attend university.  I stayed with my aunt until I graduated and found a job.”

“You speak English very well.”

“Actually, English is my first language and the official language of Nigeria.”

“Have you been back since you left?”

“Yes.  I visit my family every Christmas.”

“Are you here alone?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  You came with your friends.”

So, she had noticed him long before he approached her.  That pleased him.  “Why don’t we get something to eat and then find somewhere to sit?” he suggested.

“All right.” They went over to the elaborate buffet table and helped themselves to the spread.  They went out on the terrace, found a corner where there were a couple of chairs and sat down.

“Which university did you go to?”

“Cambridge.”

“Now I wish that I went there instead of Oxford and then we would have met sooner. Why did you study at Cambridge?”

“Education.”

“How you like living in England?”

“I don’t mind it because I love my job and I have a lot of friends.  What really bothers me, though, is the prejudice that exists among blacks.  The lighter skinned women, especially, turn up their noses at me and they get upset when their men look at me.  I think too, that they don’t like me because I’m African.”

Maxwell shook his head.  “It’s a shameful thing when prejudice exists within the black community,” he said.  “Growing up in Barbados, I was exposed to bigotry.  My sister was bullied because she wasn’t dark enough and I watched light skinned children ridicule the dark skinned ones.  Many times I got into fights standing up for myself, my sister and my friends.  There was a girl who lived next door to my grandparents whom I liked and I used to hang around her.  My grandfather who was much lighter than me didn’t approve and used to say to me, ‘She’s too dark.’  He told me that all the men in our family married light skinned women so that the next generation would be lighter.  I loved my grandfather but I was ashamed of his ways.  Unfortunately, my parents are the same way.  When I was a teenager I used to date light skinned girls to please them but that changed when I went to university.”

“So, your parents wouldn’t be pleased to see you talking to me,” she commented.

“No, they wouldn’t be.  But it doesn’t matter.  I’m a grown man.  I like you Adaolisa and I want to get to know you better.”

“It’s sad to see blacks discriminate against each other.  It only polarizes the communities.”

“It does.  And it polarizes families too.  My younger brother married a German woman whom our parents welcomed with open arms and they dote on their Caucasian looking grandchildren.   My sister, however, is somewhat of a disappointment to them because she fell in love with and got engaged to Omar, a Senegalese man.  It doesn’t matter that he’s a great guy, loves her and treats her like a queen, all my parents see are his color and his nationality.”

“There are many shades of love.  Your brother chose one shade and your sister another.  All that matters is that they’re happy with their choices.”

He stared at her, admiration glinting in his eyes.  Not only was she beautiful but she was wise.  He knew he had found a treasure tonight.

They changed the topic and talked about other things until it was time to leave.  “May I give you a lift home?” he asked, hopefully.

She nodded.  “Yes, thank you.  I’ll be right back.”

After she left, he rejoined his friends.  “Where have you been, Man,” Trevor asked.

“He’s been with the Nubian,” Colin chimed in.

“So, are we still heading over to the Road House to catch the game?” Nigel asked.

“I’ll pass,” Maxwell told them.  “I’ll see you guys at the game on Friday.”

“He’s brushing us off because of black beauty.”

“Her name is Adaolisa.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t like to keep a lady waiting.”  He turned and walked away, his heart and steps quickening when he saw her standing there, waiting for him.

That was two years ago and now, here they were on their way to see his parents before they went to their favorite restaurant where he was going to propose to her.  It didn’t matter to him what his parents thought.  He was madly in love with this woman and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.  She looked exquisite in the dark red dress with the spaghetti straps.  Unable to resist, he reached over and caressed her shoulder with his knuckles.  “Are you nervous?” he asked when she looked at him.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry, I will be there.   As soon as I see that things are getting uncomfortable for you, we will leave, okay?”

“Okay.”  She seemed to relax and a slight smile tugged at her mouth.  She turned to look out of the window.

Five minutes later, they were pulling up in front of a very charming cottage nestled among climbing rose bushes.  He held her hand as they walked up the driveway.  When they were standing on the step in front of the door, he turned to her and asked, “Ready?”

She nodded.  Her grip on his hand tightened imperceptibly.

He rang the doorbell and waited.  It opened and his father stood there.  “Hello, Son,” he said, shaking Maxwell’s hand.  Then, his eyes shifted to Adaolisa.  “Good evening,” he said, extending his hand.

Adaolisa shook his hand.  “Good evening.”

“Please come in,” he said, stepping aside.  His manner toward her was polite but there was no warmth.  “Your mother is in the living-room.”

After they removed their shoes, they went to the living-room.  His mother was sitting by the fireplace.  She stood and went over to hug him.  “It’s good to see you, Maxwell,” she said.  “It has been a while.” When they drew apart, she looked at Adaolisa.  “How do you do?” she sounded a bit stiff although she shook her hand.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Adaolisa replied.  “What a lovely home you have.”

“Thank you.  Won’t you sit down?”

“Mom, we could only stay for a little while,” Maxwell told her as he sat down on the sofa next to Adaolisa.  “We’re going out for dinner.”

“Maxwell mentioned that you’re from Nigeria.”

“Yes, I’m from Lagos.”

“Do you have any family here?”

“Yes, an aunt.  The rest of my family is in Lagos.”

So, far so good, Maxwell thought, beginning to relax when his mother said abruptly, “Maxwell, may I have a word with you?  Excuse us,” she said to Adaolisa before standing up and leaving the room.

Maxwell looked at Adaolisa.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.  He got up and left.

His mother was standing in the hallway.  “Let’s go into the kitchen,” she suggested and led the way.

When they were alone in the kitchen, she asked, “Are you serious about this girl?”

“First of all, she’s a woman not a girl and yes, I’m very serious about her.  I’m head over heels in love with her.”

“But what do you really know about her?”

“I know enough about her to want to marry her—”

His mother looked aghast.  “Marry her?”

“Yes.  I’m going to propose to her tonight over dinner.”

“But, she’s African.”

“So?”

“Why couldn’t you find yourself a nice Bajan woman or even an English woman?”

“So you object to Adaolisa because she’s African?”

“Yes and she’s too dark.”

Maxwell tried to remain calm.  “Do you have any idea how damaging it is to a child when they are treated differently because they are dark?  I knew someone at university who told me that when she was a child, the teacher gave her a black crayon instead of a brown one to color a drawing of herself.  She transferred to a different school because of the bullying but she still had to deal with verbal abuse from other black students.  How could you stand there and look down at Adaolisa because she’s not your idea of what is beautiful?  It’s not the color of her skin that makes a woman beautiful, it’s her character.  I brought her here to meet you because I hoped that once you got to know her, you would set your prejudices aside but clearly I was wrong.  I’m going to marry her regardless of what you say or think.  You’re welcome to come to the wedding if you like.  Now, it’s time for us to go.  Goodbye, Mother.”  He turned and walked away from her.

He was quiet on the ride over to the restaurant.   Then, turning to her, he said regretfully, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out.  I foolishly hoped that my parents would come around and accept you.  I know my mother is set in her ways but I thought that my father would be more forthcoming but aside from greeting you at the door, he said nothing to you all the time we were there.  And when I came into the living-room after talking to my mother, he wasn’t there.  You were sitting there all by yourself.  I was so upset that I had to get out of there”

She reached out and placed her hand on his thigh.  “Let’s not dwell on what happened.  We have the rest of the evening ahead of us.  Let’s enjoy it.”

“All right,” he said.  “Let’s enjoy the rest of our evening together.”

They ended up enjoying dinner.  The conversation flowed and there was a lot of laughter.  Just before they ordered dessert, he reached out and covered her hand, his eyes intent on her face.  Swallowing hard, he began the speech he had rehearsed over and over since the moment he knew that he was going to marry her.   “Adaolisa, words alone can’t express how I feel about you.  From the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were the one for me.  You took my heart and my breath away.  When I look at you, I see the woman I love, the woman I need and the woman I’m meant to be with.”  He reached into his breast pocket and took out a box.  Releasing her hand, he opened it and removed the ring.  It was an exquisite Rose Gold Leaf diamond engagement ring.

She stared at it in wonder and when her eyes lifted to his face, they were moist.  “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“It will look even more beautiful on your hand,” he replied huskily.  “Will you marry me, Adaolisa?”

She nodded.  “Yes, Maxwell.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now as she watched him slide it onto her finger before he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I love you, Adaolisa.”

“I love you too, Maxwell.”

They raised their glasses in a toast and over dessert, they made wedding plans.  In May of the following year, they got married in an elegant but simple ceremony.  Her family was there.  His brother and his family were in attendance as well as his sister and her husband, Omar.  Noticeably absent were his parents.  Fortunately, that didn’t put a damper on the nuptials.

After a two week honeymoon in the Maldives, they moved into their new home, a half-hour drive outside of London.  Nine months later, they welcomed their first child—a girl with beautiful olive skin and her father’s eyes.  As Maxwell held her in his arms, he remarked, “She’s beautiful like her mother.”

“She’s another shade of love—our love for each other.”

 

Source:  Dazed Digital; Felix Online; Nation News; Barbados Free Press; Fluid London; University of Cambridge; Global News; Pinterest; Ben Garelick; Harper’s Bazaar

Led by God

Roman was in the park, tying the laces on his running shoes when Janice walked up to him.  He glanced up.  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m here to see you, of course,” she replied.  “I missed you yesterday.  We all did, especially the kids.  The annual church picnic just wasn’t the same without you there.   As usual it was a fun-filled day of food, games and fellowship.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but I didn’t feel up to it.”

“Is everything okay with you, Roman?”

He finished tying his laces and stood up, stretching.  “Yes, everything is okay with me.  Is that why you’re here, Janice?  To check up on me?”

“I’m not checking up on you.  I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m doing fine.”

“Frances is a bit worried about you…”

“Did Frances send you?”

“No, she didn’t but she called me last night because she was concerned about you and I promised her that I would pop by to see you.”

“Sometimes Frances acts more like my mother than my sister.  She has her own family to take care of.”

“You are family.  And if there is something that is troubling you, you really don’t have to deal with it alone–”

His mouth tightened.  “I don’t need a therapist.”

“I’m not here professionally, Roman, but as a friend.  Please, can we find a bench somewhere and talk?”

“I’d rather not talk about my personal life right now,” he said.

“All right.  We won’t talk about you.”

“What will we talk about?”

“Anything that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Okay.  There’s a bench over there.”

She followed him to the bench which faced the lake and they sat down.  “This is the second time in five years I have been to Hyde Park.  I had forgotten how beautiful it is.  Do you come here often?”

“Yes.  It’s where I come to relax and unwind and it’s close to where I live.  But, you already know that.  Did you go to my flat first before coming here?”

“Yes.  Frances told me that if you weren’t there, chances were that you were here.”

“What did you hope to accomplish by coming here?”

“Well, I hoped to see you and spend some time with you.”

“What about your boyfriend?  Wouldn’t he have a problem with you being here with me?”

She looked down at her hands.  “Roger and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“How come, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“He’s a non-believer.  I knew that before we started dating but foolishly I believed that I was his best chance for knowing Jesus.  I knew what I should do but wrestled with it for a while because I cared for Roger.  I prayed about it and spoke to my pastor.  He said that any emotional attachment a person had toward another person who is not on the same spiritual page or vice versa, is an unhealthy attachment.  He told me to heed God’s Word about being unequally yoked and end the relationship and move on.  Which I did.”

“When did you break up with Roger?”

“Last month.”

“That’s very recent.”

“Yes.  Sometimes it feels like it happened just yesterday.  I know that it’s for the best, though.  I had no idea that I was doing what Pastor Brown called, missionary dating.”

“What would he call being in a relationship with someone you have doubts about?”

“What sorts of doubts do you have about Jenny?”

“I have doubts that she’s the woman I’m meant to be with.”

“How long have the two of you been dating?”

“Four years.”

“And you still have doubts about whether or not she’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Yes.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “I just can’t shake the feeling that this relationship is all wrong for me and that I should get out of it.”

“Any time you have doubts, you need to take notice and deal with them right away.  I once read something that James T. Draper wrote which said, ‘Doubt never means yes and always means no or wait a while: God does not lead through doubt. If you can’t get peace, that is an answer.’   Don’t ignore the signs that are there.  Have you shared your concerns with Jenny?”

“Yes, I have but the doubts are still there.”

“Pray about it.”

He sighed.  “I will.”

She glanced at her watch.  “I’m afraid I have to go now,” she said, getting up.  “If you need to talk some more, call me.”

“All right.  Thanks.”  He watched her as she walked away and then he leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes.  Lord, what should I do about Jenny?  I don’t want to hurt her but I can’t ignore all of these doubts.

He waited for several minutes and then he got his answer.  “Jenny is not the one for you.  It is time to end your relationship with her”.  He opened his eyes and reaching into his pants pocket, he took out his cell phone.  He paused for a moment before punching in the numbers.  It rang a couple of times and then she answered.

“Hi, Roman, I’ve been calling you all morning.  Where are you?”

“Hi, Jenny.  I’m in the park.”  His fingers gripped the phone as he added, “May I come over?  I need to see you.”

“Sure.  You sound a bit funny.  Are you all right?”

“Yes.  I just have a lot of things on my mind.  I will be there in half-hour.”

“All right.  I’ll see you then.”

He ended the call.  He put the cell back into his pocket and stood up.  As he walked out of the park and headed home, he thought about what he was going to say.

That evening, Janice had just finished watching In Touch with Charles Stanley when her phone rang.  She got up and went to answer it.  It was Roman.

“I ended my relationship with Jenny this morning.”

“How did she take it?”

“Not good, I’m afraid.”

“That’s as expected.  How are you doing?”

“Not well.  I feel rotten.”

“It’s never easy to break up with someone you love.”

“Did you love Roger?”

“No.  I cared for him but I wasn’t in love with him.”

“This experience has taught me that loving someone isn’t enough to make the relationship work.  I love Jenny but I can’t be with her because I know that we wouldn’t be happy.”

“My grandmother once said that just because two people love each other it doesn’t mean that they are meant for each other.  The nagging doubts you had about Jenny was evidence that you aren’t right for each other.  I’m sorry that things didn’t work out for you, though.”

“Me too.”

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“Do you remember Lisa Williams?”

Janice knitted her brow.  “Vaguely.”

“She’s one of the mission trip organizers and she invited me to go on a mission trip to Ireland for ten days.”

“Are you going to go?”

“Yes.  I believe that a mission trip is what I need right now.”

“When do you leave?”

“Next week Monday.”

“Well, I hope you have a good trip.  One of the best ways to recover from breaking up with someone you love is to do something entirely new.  Going on this trip is probably what you need to do.  You’ll see new places and meet new people.  Think of it this way, God has called you to partake in His work of transforming hearts and lives in Ireland.”

“Yes, I believe He has.” A pause then, “Thank you, Janice, for being there for me.”

“What are friends for?”

“I’ll call you when I get back.”

“All right.  Take care.”

“Goodbye.”

She hung up and stood there for several minutes then she went back over to the sofa and sat down.

The trip to Ireland provided just the catalyst Roman needed.  God used the experience to take him out of his comfort zone through street ministry and to bring him closer to Him.  His eyes were opened to the love of God spreading to a community of people who knew of Him but didn’t know Him personally.  Ireland was a beautiful place but the highlight for him was sharing the simplicity and beauty of the Gospel message with people.  He hoped and prayed that their hearts would be transformed.

On the flight back to London, he thought about the trip and how thankful he was to have been a part of it.  He remembered the different areas they had traveled to but Cobh stood out for him.  It was a beautiful and colorful town.  He learned that it was the Titanic’s last port of call and visited the Titanic Memorial Garden there in Cobh.  It was also where the survivors and the dead from the torpedoed RMS Lusitania were brought.  A monument was erected to commemorate the tragedy.

As he stood at the Cobh harbor looking at the colorful buildings huddling together facing the water and the boats and St Colman’s Cathedral, one of the tallest buildings in Ireland, looming over the town, he thought about Janice.  He was sure that she would love the place and on the spur of the moment, he bought her a postcard.  He wrote something on it and then dropped it in the mailbox.  He had a feeling that he would be back in London before the postcard arrived.

He glanced at his watch now.  In about an hour they would be arriving at London’s Heathrow Airport.  He was looking forward to being home.  As soon as he got in he was going to relax on the sofa and watch some television.  Although he still thought about her, there were no reminders of Jenny in his flat.  Before leaving on the trip, he had cleaned house, removing photos of her alone, of them together, souvenirs they had brought back from trips and things she had given him.  It was tough doing that but not as tough as severing all contact with her.

He deleted her from his email account, blocked her from Facebook, blocked her cell, home and work numbers.  It had to be a clean and complete break.  Thankfully, they didn’t attend the same church or it would be really awkward and difficult running into her.  He decided that it would be best to phase out her friends from his life as well.  No ties with them or her family or anyone in her circle.  Another clean break.  He would make new friends and reconnect with old ones–have his own social circle.   And as far as dating again was concerned, he wasn’t ready.  He was going to be single for a while.  He believed that “being single is definitely better than being with the wrong person (Hassan Choughari).

Being single felt a bit strange at first after having been in a four year relationship but he got used to it after a while.  He traveled more, got involved church ministry and community service.  His life was busy and fulfilling.  Two years had passed and Jenny was a faint memory.  The last he heard of her, she had gotten married to a guy she met at a Singles’ Retreat.  He was happy for her but it only proved to him that the doubts he had about her were God’s way of alerting him to the fact that she was not the right woman for him and he was not the right man for her.  She was with the person she was meant to be with and he was going to trust God now to show him who the right woman was for him.

Lately, he and Janice were spending more time together.  He enjoyed her company.  They went hiking across dramatic cliff-tops and river valleys with breathtaking views of the white cliffs of Seven Sisters, Beachy Head and the Cuckmere Haven river valley.  They had lunch at The Cuckmere Inn.  Last Saturday they went bowling with Frances and her husband, Ken.

Tonight they were having dinner at a family run Italian restaurant.  “I got your postcard from Budapest yesterday,” Janice told him.  “It must have been nice seeing those grand palaces, cathedrals and art.”

“Yes, it was.  It seems like all of my postcards got home after I did, though.”

She smiled.  “Well, except for the one from Montreal.”

Roman reached over and covered her hand with his, his expression serious.  “Janice, I’ve known you for a very long time and you’ve always been a good friend to me.  When I was going through my struggles with doubts about Jenny, you were there to counsel me.  Lately, we have been spending a lot of time together and during this time, I have developed romantic feelings for you.  I feel such peace when I’m with you.

“There are no doubts or concerns.  Our schedules don’t conflict.  We both have time to go to church, serve God, and enjoy spending time together.  I enjoy being with you.  Thinking of you excites me spiritually and emotionally.  Talking to you is so easy.  I feel so comfortable sharing very intimate thoughts with you.  I feel that I have your undivided attention.  And everyone thinks you’re terrific.  Janice, I want to be in a relationship with you.”

Janice stared at him, her heart was pounding.  She could hardly believe it.  Her prayers had been answered!  “I want to be in a relationship with you too, Roman,” she admitted huskily.

He smiled and squeezed her hand.  “Are you up for dessert?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  I keep thinking about that Chocolate fudge cake.”

They began dating from that night and six months later, he proposed.  The wedding took place the following summer.  Frances was her matron of honor and Ken was the best man.  It was a small and intimate wedding.  They honeymooned in the Grenadines.

After a walk on the beach following dinner, they went back to their room with its stunning view of the sea.  They stood facing each other, both nervous and excited at the same time. “I love you,” Roman muttered thickly.  “I waited for more than two years for the right woman and God led me straight to you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured.  “A wise woman once said, wait for the man who waited on the Lord to lead him straight to you.  I waited for you and God led you to me.”

Roman reached out and taking her by the hands, he drew her to him, his eyes dark and stormy with desire.  He bent his head and kissed her.  When he felt her response, his hands released hers to cup her face as he deepened the kiss.  She put her arms around his waist and pressed against him.   The kisses became more passionate and soon, they were tugging at each other’s clothes, wanting to be free and to feel skin against skin.

Picking her up, he carried her over to the bed where in the moon dappled light, they made love for the first time.

Sources:  CBN; Heather Lindsey; Facts and Trends; Huffington Post; Bustle; World’s Missions Alliance; She Knows; Huffington Post; RFWMA; Irish Central; Wikipedia; Self Growth; Pinterest; Walking Club; Belief Net; Nina Andres; Cotton House