Posts by Dee

Tunde & Anaya: Part 8

Posted on 04/04/2013

pomegranate

Felicia Brooks lifted her head from the bowl of snap peas and gaped in Tunde’s direction. “Silas, please tell me your brother is kidding…” Her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re kidding right?”

Silas leaned back on his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he smirked in amusement at his older brother. “Wish I could, beautiful. He’s very serious.”

Tunde smirked at the disbelief displayed plainly on her face. “What’s the matter?”

She sighed patiently. “Tunde, you can’t just propose marriage to someone you haven’t even dated. That doesn’t make sense.” She glanced over at Silas. “Hold on. Does that mean she’ll get introduced to your mother before me?”

“Uh-oh,” Tunde muttered as the smile fell from Silas’ face.

“Silas…” Felicia urged, dropping the half-peeled stalk into the bowl.

The two brothers shared a glance before Silas turned back to his girlfriend. “The girl has to agree first before that. He can’t very well drag her to see our mother.” He frowned at his brother. “At least I hope not.”

Felicia whipped her head back to Tunde and the amused grin fell off his face. “Just do me a favor, Tunde.”

“What’s that?” Tunde asked, his expression serious.

“At least try to be a normal man and go out on several dates with the girl. At least before you decide to drag her to meet your mother.” Felicia raised one shapely brow. “If after that I still don’t meet your mother first, I’ll know never to forgive your brother.”

“Hey!” Silas protested, sitting up in his seat. His eyes were wide as saucers as he gaped at his girlfriend of many years. “What did I do now?”

Felicia rolled her eyes, adjusting the bowl on her lap. “Good question, Silas Halliday. What have you done?”

Tunde fought a laugh when Silas turned his questioning gaze to him. “I’ll let you guys figure that out. I’m off.” He stepped away from the counter and walked over to pick up his suit jacket draped over the couch. “Felicia…”

She lifted her head again, brow still furrowed.

“Mom’s coming in two weeks and I promised to cook. If you don’t mind helping…”

Both her shapely brows lifted and her lips curled up in a knowing smile. “Thanks Tunde.” She cut Silas a glare. “I’ll think about it.”

“Now you’ve done it, Tunde,” Silas groaned, shaking his head at his brother.

“Stop sitting on it,” Tunde said sternly, shrugging on the jacket. “And Felicia, if he doesn’t come around by then, you have my permission to break up with him.”

“Hey!!”

Felicia giggled over Silas’ loud protesting, her eyes dancing with mirth at Silas’ brother, recalling the last time Tunde came by her place to plead Silas’ case to give him one more chance. She nodded. “Yes sir.”

Tunde nodded stiffly although a soft smile played at his lips. “See you later then.” He turned to the door, waving over his shoulder.

A few minutes after Tunde had exited Silas’ apartment, Felicia nudged Silas’ leg with her foot.

“Woman, let me rest. I’m thinking.”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “That’s your problem. You think too much.” She glanced quickly at the door before turning back to face him. “Do you think he’ll do it?”

He eyed her suspiciously as she leaned her head in, eyes keen on his face. “Do what?”

“Propose, silly.” She bit her bottom lip.

Silas sighed. “I don’t know. My brother is a very intense individual. Sees something he wants and he goes for it.”

“Unlike someone I know…” Felicia raised a hand before Silas could protest. “Have you met her?”

“No…” Silas hesitated, not sure he liked the look in Felicia’s eyes.

“Good. Ask your brother to double date with us.”

He scowled. “Felicia, no.”

“Why not?” her brows lifted. “It’ll be good to see the woman that could be your sister-in-law. And mine, if you get off your cowardly behind!” She smacked his leg before returning her attention to the bowl of peas.

Silas frowned, pulling his leg from her reach. “Are you serious…?”

“About what?”

“About meeting her?”

Felicia rolled her eyes. “No, I just felt like saying that.”

“That’s not a bad idea…” He eyed her carefully. “She’s at the Texas Medical Center.”

Felicia’s fingers stilled and she looked up at Silas. “Really now…”

Silas nodded hesitantly, noting the hooded look in her eyes that was equally disconcerting.

“That’s very good…” The young woman said, lowering her eyes back to the bowl. “Very good.”

“Don’t harass her.”

Felicia laughed. “If scoping her out is harassing her, I’m not going to make that promise.”

“Felicia—”

“Until you get serious, Silas Halliday, I have no intention of hearing what you have to say about this matter.”

Silas threw an exasperated glare at the ceiling. “I am serious about you.”

She frowned at him. “Then why can’t you grow some and introduce me to your mother?” Felicia clenched her jaw. “My parents are wondering. I’m wondering. Heck, even Tunde is wondering. Why on earth are you dancing around it? Are you ashamed of me?”

He blinked at her, stunned. “A…ashamed?”

Felicia shook her head, placing the bowl on the table. “I’ve said enough and had enough of this conversation. I’m going home.” She rose to her feet.

Silas grabbed her wrist to stop her from stepping around him. “Wait a minute.” He peered up at her. “What does that mean? Ashamed. Me?”

“I get that I’m not the docile Nigerian girl your mother wanted for you,” Felicia said stiffly. “I know she will be disappointed but doesn’t my love and adoration count for anything? Am I wasting my time waiting for you?” Her eyes glistened with tears and she lifted her head to push them back.

He rose to his feet and reached for her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “That’s not what I’m doing, Felicia. You have to believe me.” His heart was racing. How long had she felt like this?

She shook her head, wriggling under his hold. “I’m tired of hearing that. It’s like hot air on my face now.”

Silas swallowed hard. “I’m the one that doesn’t want you to be ashamed of me.”

Felicia blinked at him. “What…?”

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on her face. “I’m not smart like Tunde or like you. I don’t care for the traditional means of making money. I am a mechanic by hobby and by trade.” He forced himself to look at her, wishing to see the love in her eyes that would dispel his doubts. “I know your parents didn’t like the idea of me, a mechanic, being with their soon-to-be doctor daughter. I’m trying my best to prove them otherwise.”

She didn’t say a word, just stared at him.

Silas sighed haggardly and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “I want very much to marry you, Felicia. And I plan on doing that… Just let me prove to your parents that I can take care of you forever.”

“You’re a clown.”

He blinked at her. “Huh?”

Felicia’s lips curled in a gentle smile and she shuffled closer, reaching for his hands. “I don’t care about all that, you fool. I love you and want very much to be your wife. My parents will support whatever decision I make about my heart. They cannot govern my choice.” She lifted his arm to drape over her shoulder. “And I choose you, Silas Halliday, so stop wasting both our time and just ask me to marry you already.”

A crooked smile tugged at his lips as he stared at this outspoken, intelligent woman. “I’m a very lucky man.”

“You better not forget it.” Felicia stood on her tiptoes and placed her mouth against his. “And don’t make me wait much longer…”

<<Part 7 || Part 9>>

Neville & Genevieve: Part 4

Posted on 02/04/2013

luciaNeve swallowed another groan, pushing the wheelbarrow across the rocky terrain. “Come on, Pops… Why are you doing this now?” He frowned over at his father bent over a patch of overgrown weeds.

“It’s only a question. No need for the tantrum,” Francis murmured, slapping the dirt from the gloves onto his pant leg. He squinted up at his son and clucked his tongue. “Why is it so hard for you to answer me?”

The younger man leaned the wheelbarrow, pausing to wipe his perspiring brow. “Because your question is… unfounded.” He frowned, crouching beside his father to start pulling out the troublesome plants.

“Unfounded?” Francis raised a brow and chuckled. “Since when do you start using words like that here? Don’t cover your real feelings with scientific words.”

“It’s not scientific, Father,” Neve muttered, holding back his rising frustration, tossing the uprooted plant in the wheelbarrow. “And my real feeling is exactly what I said before. If Gene wants Mr. Boudain, she’ll say so.” He frowned, imagining the tall and balding actuary with the vibrant and flippant Genevieve. For the life of him, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the reality of Genevieve as Mrs. Boudain or anyone else’s bride for that matter. “I doubt she’ll agree to him but in the end, it’s her decision.”

Francis snorted darkly. “Why will she not agree? Stefan Boudain is a fine man. Responsible and he is fond of her. He will be good for her.”

Neve rolled his eyes, tugging at another stubborn weed. “This is not the dark ages, Pops. You can’t just go matching two people together because you and some of the other town biddies think he’ll be good to her. That isn’t hard to do. What is this really about?” He tossed the weed over his shoulder.

Francis sat back on his heels and watched his son work, taking note of his clenched jaw and his furrowed brow. “What is this…?”

“What?”

“Your disapproval of Boudain….”

Neve tore the weed out of the ground, scowling at his father. “I’m not disapproving of Boudain as a man.”

“But as Genevieve’s future, you are.”

“That’s ridiculous…” Neve muttered under his breath as he turned his head to throw the sprigs into the barrow. “It’s not my business about who Genevieve’s future is.”

“Isn’t it?”

Neve stalled, staring over the mountain of weeds toward the sea, his frown deepening as his father’s words echoed in his ears and his heart.

The party started later than Neve expected but then again, his people were notorious for showing up to places whenever they saw fit. He’d been in Maui long enough to now know this habit of theirs wasn’t polite or appropriate. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to look across the room where his father, clad in a simple black suit with a country flower pinned to his lapel, stood grinning from ear to ear. The older man greeted his straggling guests at the door and Neve realized that it didn’t matter what he thought of their late arrival; the celebrant, his father didn’t mind too much about punctuality.

Refraining from glancing down at his watch, Neve scanned the room with a smirk on his lips as he took in the older women and men standing in clusters around the room. Their smiles were a welcome change from the solemn expressions drawn on their faces as they stood around the grave of Mrs. Faluna days prior. Just like after every storm that ravaged their town, his people held onto hope and community to dispel the despair and were now celebrating his father’s retirement as the Chief Superintendent of the police force.

His gaze fell on another set of people standing by the punch bowl and his smile waned, immediately recognizing the tall and lithe man with his balding head shining from the disco ball spinning slowly above him. As his father’s pointed words drifted in his ear, Neve narrowed his gaze at the unassuming man. His broad shoulders were bowed, his gait awkward in his middle-aged body and his narrow face strained with a smile.

Good for Gene, my left foot. Neve rolled his eyes in disgust. One hour with Genevieve and this reclusive man would sprint out the room and never look back. He meant no offense to the man but he knew Genevieve all too well. She was a more than any sensible man could handle; her fiery temper and sharp tongue could drive any man insane. He could bet a year’s salary that the town actuary wouldn’t last a day much less a lifetime with her.

Pulling his bored gaze from Mr. Boudain and his companions, Neve shifted his eyes to the next corner of the room and his brow furrowed deeply, feeling his heart slam hard against his ribs.

Three people had just stepped into the hall, pausing at the door to congratulate his father. He tried not to glare at the tall Caucasian man that flanked both women, Jonathan Harris. Neve refrained from staring at Ameya who wore a soft yellow dress that flowed like the wind. His heart twisted as she gave his father that gentle smile of hers and pulled the older man in a quick embrace. Swallowing hard, he pulled his eyes to the woman beside her.

Genevieve wearing a simple gray dress stood beside Ameya, waiting her turn to congratulate the retired chief. Neve realized that he couldn’t stop staring at her. That restrained smile of hers nudged at him as if he recognized that she wasn’t in the mood to be here but had to come. For propriety’s sake, no doubt.

Genevieve refrained from sighing as Chief Francis shifted his eyes to her. “Congratulations…” she said, allowing herself to be embraced. The steady warmth from the retired police commissioner probed at the space she’d contained her tears. She bit her bottom lip, spreading a smile on her face when he pulled her back to gaze at her.

“Thank you for coming…” Francis said gently before peering over her head at Jonathan. “Even my friend all the way from America. Thank you.”

Jonathan’s chuckle pushed her tears back and Genevieve swallowed a sigh even as Ameya drew her away from the host toward the food table. “I’m fine,” she assured Ameya as they crossed the room. “I just wish everyone stopped looking at me like that…” she mumbled, reaching for a paper cup.

“They’re just worried about you,” Ameya whispered gently, reaching for a cup of her own. Her eyes glanced up to see Neve who quickly looked away, preoccupying himself with adjusting a tablecloth beside him. Sighing, she stepped away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm,” Genevieve mumbled distractedly, pouring some juice into her clear cup, not noticing that Ameya had stepped around the shy Mr. Boudain to approach the evasive Neve. Lifting the cup to her lips, she paused once she spotted the tall and reserved actuary standing at the end of the table. Swallowing a groan, Genevieve shifted her gaze away. She was not in the mood for this, especially not today.

“Good evening, Mademoiselle Faluna,” the man said with his accented English. He’d lived in South France all of his life and had moved to Vieux Forte about a year ago.

“Good evening…” Genevieve answered stiffly, straining not to step back as he moved closer to her.

“Didn’t think I would get to see you here. You look lovely.”

Genevieve bit back a whine when her body itched at his hovering. Why wasn’t he getting the hint?

 —

Why wasn’t this dolt getting the hint? Neve frowned over Ameya’s head at the tall man standing beside Genevieve, taking note of the woman’s stiffened shoulders and averted face.

“Neville,” Ameya nudged him. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

Neve dragged his gaze back to Ameya’s face, marveling at how he’d once melted at her expressive brown eyes. Now she was only in his way and he was not in the mood to face her now. “Can’t this wait?”

Ameya raised a shapely brow. “What, are you busy?”

“Yes.” He pulled his gaze back over her head to where Mr. Boudain was speaking in hushed tones to Genevieve who merely nodded stiffly, her lips drawn in a thin line. It was clear Genevieve was not in the mood either. “We’ll talk later, Ameya.”

He stepped around her and crossed the room to Genevieve’s side.  “Mr. Boudain, good evening…” His hand slipped around Genevieve’s waist and pulled her toward him. Smiling as he heard the gentle intake of breath escape her lips, Neve peered up at the perturbed man. “If you don’t mind, I’ll need to steal Gene for a moment.”

Genevieve choked on an incredulous laugh as Neve pulled her toward the open door and led her out to the courtyard that faced the ocean.

<<Part 3 || Part 5>>