Wings of Healing (Chapter 7)

Denola

Wings of Healing (Chapter 6)

I lingered in the church after the monthly women prayer meeting. I wanted the others to leave before placing the flowers I decorated the church with every week on the altar. I also wanted to pray and needed some privacy to voice out my feelings to God.

The women finally left the auditorium after the usual bantering and catching-up that occurred following a service. The church administrator was still going to be around. He had told me he had some paperwork to do and would lock up afterwards. He was the only one who knew I was the one who brought the fresh flowers every week. I had asked him to keep it private between us, and even the pastor was not aware of my identity. My pastor often prayed during the service for the anonymous decorator, and I had always said a quiet amen to the prayers.

I stole out to the car park to fetch the flowers when I was sure no one would see me, and got to work immediately. An hour and a half later, I was done and the flowers looked radiant in their blooms. I was glad I had listened to the horticulturist as per the choice of flowers.

That done, I knelt by the altar to pray, majorly asking God for guidance and help in my relationship with Alex and also about the thorny issue about Alex and Zara. At the end of my petitions, I had peace within me and found myself worshiping God spontaneously.

There was a lightness in my heart as I drove out of the church premises and headed towards Banji’s mother’s house where Zara had spent the night.

“Denola, my dear, hope you had a restful night?” she said as I walked into the large kitchen where her uniformed maid had told me I would find her. The older woman was in the process of sliding a tray of sausage rolls into the oven.

“I did, Ma. Thank you.” I cast a glance around after we had exchanged pleasantries. Her kitchen was fitted with every modern device one could think of and I had promised myself I’d have a kitchen like that one day.

“Mmmm…Something smells good,” I said, eyeing another tray of already baked sausage rolls she had left on the granite work top to cool.

She loved baking and had once had a couple of thriving pastry shops which Banji had insisted she sold when she had been diagnosed with a heart condition a few years ago.

“But hope you’ve not been stressing yourself?” I asked.

“No, my dear. It’s just these couple of trays I intend to bake.” She wiped her hands on a tea towel. “Banji is coming around today, and I know how much he likes my sausage rolls.”

“He may like them, but I know he doesn’t want you all stressed up,” I replied, at the same time mentally calculating how much time I needed to spend so I could beat it out of there before Banji arrived. I knew he played tennis at Tariga’s, a club on the island, at about this time whenever he was in town. That should give me a couple of hours before I needed to exit his mother’s house.

“You children need to stop molly coddling me,” she protested. “Since when did baking kill anyone?” she asked with her arm on her hip. “I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

“And we want you to remain strong for us.”

I had a deep affection and respect for her. She had been the one who had taken me in when my father had kicked me out after finding out I was pregnant. My mother had been too intimidated by him to offer me any comfort or provide an alternative place. Banji had offered to rent an apartment for me, but his mother had stepped in and insisted I stayed with her. I had remained with her for two years before moving into an apartment of my own.

“I will, my dear, I will,” she replied.

The kitchen door opened, and she smiled indulgently as Zara bounded in. This was one place I knew she felt right at home in. The affection between her and her grandma could not be questioned. The same also went for her dad. She may have been born out of wedlock, but Banji adored his daughter. I reminded myself again I needed to scoot soon so I could avoid him.

“Can I have a sausage roll, Grandma?” Zara asked, looking at the tray on the work top.

“Of course, my dear.” She put a sausage roll on a paper plate for her and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Can I go eat it in the sitting room? Aunt Becca and I were watching TV,” Zara said.

“That’s okay. Let me put another sausage roll for your Aunt Becca, then,” Banji’s mum replied.

She gave her another plate with a sausage roll on it. Zara took both plates from her and walked gingerly towards the door.

“Careful, baby,” I called out after her. “Tell Aunt Becca to come back for drinks for both of you.”

“Zara can have some sausage rolls to take away with her. She can add it to her packed lunch for next week,” Banji’s mother said as she moved towards the fridge. She brought out some freshly squeezed orange juice and poured a glass for me. She then filled a cup of water for herself.

“Thank you, Ma.” I took a plate and helped myself to a sausage roll. It was the polite thing to do despite my diet. I knew she baked for others and hardly ate any of the pastries herself. Her satisfaction came from people enjoying her baked foods.

“So, you said you’re going away with your fiancé in a week?” she asked, eyeing my engagement ring.

I replied in the affirmative and told her about our plans, careful to include the fact that Alex and I were booked into two separate rooms and that we also had our friends with us. I knew I didn’t have to bother with the details, but Mrs. Adenle-Coker’s opinion and approval mattered to me. She had earned it.

“I hope we get to see this young man soon,” she said before taking a sip of her water.

I was about to tell her Alex would definitely be at her birthday party when the doorbell chimed. The maid opened the door, and I froze upon hearing Banji’s voice. I heard Zara squeal as she saw him and squeal again as he must have given her whatever he had bought for her.

I needed to get out of there, but I counted to ten under my breath and told myself to calm down. We had never gotten along since I got pregnant, and we acted at best like polite strangers. Banji had taken full responsibility for Zara’s pregnancy but had simply frozen me out after that. That had hurt badly. I hadn’t held out hopes he would marry me—afterall, we had only dated very briefly, but nevertheless, it still hurt that he’d never suggested it. I had felt rejected all over again, the way my father had done with me.

“Hello, Mum,” Banji said, interrupting my thoughts as he walked into the kitchen. “Hello, Denola.”

He bent and kissed his mother on the cheek, his eyes still on me.

“Hi.” I nodded briefly at him, looked away, and continued to eat my sausage roll.

“Welcome back home, dear,” his mother said warmly, rising to give him a hug.

She enquired about his trip to Abuja, and he told her bits about how it had gone. He mildly scolded her for stressing herself up with the baking and warned that he would find a way to disconnect the oven if she was not careful. She laughed heartily and said that would send her quicker to Heaven than baking would.

I half-listened to them talk while trying to eat up the rest of my sausage roll as quickly as I could. I picked up my plate and headed towards the bin, smirking inwardly at the speed with which I had finished the food.

“How have you been, Denola?” Banji asked as I moved past him.

“Good, and you?” I replied coolly. A faint waft of his cologne flitted past my nostrils. He still used the same cologne he had for years. Savio Antonio’s ‘Au garde.’

“Good.”

His eyes slid over me in my white chino capris and peach-colored fitted T-shirt. He raised his brows slightly as his eyes met mine again, a question he refused to voice in them. I knew he must have noticed my weight loss.

I lifted my chin a notch higher. I was happy with my new figure and could hardly wait to show it off some more with the lovely Vera Wang evening dress I had purchased for his mother’s birthday. I had made up my mind that none of his ‘bimbo’ girlfriends would be able to hold a candle to me. The high point, however, was that I would be attending with Alex, as well.

“Hey, watch out.” Banji’s hand snaked out and caught my upper arm as I almost collided with a chair in my path. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I’m fine,” I replied stiffly and then looked pointedly at his hand still on my arm. I refused to acknowledge the tingles that were shooting through me at his touch.

Banji took his hand off, a slight frown creasing his brows as he continued to regard me silently. I ignored him even though I felt slightly embarrassed. I had been so lost in my thoughts of grandeur that I had forgotten myself.

“Are you okay, dear?” his mother asked.

She cast a quick glance at her son before focusing on me again. She was more than aware of the frosty relationship between us and had tried a few times to discreetly bridge it.

“I’m fine, Ma,” I replied.

I thanked her for taking care of Zara, and also for the pastries.

She waved aside my thanks and replied that Zara and I were welcome there anytime. She bustled around packing up the sausage rolls and other tidbits for her granddaughter. Banji stood by, and from my side view, I could still see him looking at me broodingly.

I ignored him and walked out of the sitting room to get Zara ready for home.Wings of Healing (Chapter 8)

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