by Kiru Taye
Tunji told her his hometown was in Kwara State but he and his siblings had been born and raised in Lagos State. He was married with two young children. Their father used to live in Lagos. Since his retirement he spent more time in Ilorin which was the capital city of Kwara.
They ordered food and chatted while eating.
“Why has it taken you this long to contact me?” she asked one of the questions burning in her mind.
“I don’t know.” He waved his hands in the air as if he could conjure a response out of thin air. “I was a teenager when I first found out about you. For a while there was talk about you coming to live with us. But I guess not everyone wanted that to happen.”
Pain sliced into her gut. “Who didn’t want me? Was it Daddy?”
Years ago, her father had promised to take her to live in Nigeria. But it never happened.
Tunji bent his head forward and let out a regretful sigh. “My younger sister loved the idea of being the pampered last child. She was Daddy’s girl and didn’t want anyone usurping her position. I’m sorry.”
Ebun turned her head away and swallowed.
No one had wanted her presence bad enough to fight for her, Tunji included. He didn’t say it but, she heard him loud and clear.
She’d always thought her half-sister had stolen her father’s affection. Now she had the proof.
As they talked, Tunji’s remorse sounded genuine and he seemed a nice chap.
But, aside from the initial excitement of meeting her brother for the first time, she didn’t feel any connection with him. Neither did she feel the obsession that had driven her to come to Nigeria in search of family.
Perhaps because she’d found another family in Kamali. He was now her focus.
When Tunji asked when she would be available to travel to Ilorin to see their father, she told him she would have to work her way up to it.
He didn’t seem bothered by her reticence.
After dinner, he said he would be in touch and hopefully they would meet again soon.
She hurried home, keen to shower and be relaxed by the time Kamali called from New York.
***
“Ms. Forson, there’s a Miss Abubakar here to see you,” the man from the main reception desk said when Ebun answered her office phone the next day.
Ebun frowned and checked the wall clock. Five minutes past eleven o’clock. Her next meeting wasn’t until after lunch and it was with her team of admin staff. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
“Miss Abubakar?” she asked to verify what she’d heard. She ran through the people she knew.
“Yes, Ma,” the man replied.
“Send her up,” she said.
Wasn’t Laila’s last name Abubakar? Why would the woman come here to see her?
Five minutes later, a tap came from her door.
“Come in,” Ebun said.
Someone twisted the handle and sure enough Laila walked into the office.
“Laila, welcome,” Ebun kept her tone pleasant and waved at the chair on the other side of her desk. “Take a seat.”
The woman came forward with purposeful steps, her gaze sweeping the room. She wore a long turquoise dress that flattered her slender body, her head wrapped in a matching scarf.
Ebun couldn’t see her shoes because but she bet it matched the purse.
“Hi,” Laila said when she settled in the chair. “I’d like to see Kamali.”
Ebun’s spine stiffened but she kept her composure. “He is not available.”
Laila tilted her chin up and her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure if you tell him I’m here to see him, he’ll make some time for me.”
Ebun leaned back in her seat, touching her fingers together as looked the other woman in the eyes. “Then why don’t you call him and he can tell you the best time to meet with him.”
Laila averted her gaze. “The phone always goes to voicemail.”
Kamali’s phone was set up to automatically screen calls. Numbers not already stored on his mobile went straight to the answering service.
Ebun cheered in silence that Kamali didn’t have Laila’s details.
“As I said already, he is not available,” Ebun said. She wasn’t going to make it easy for the woman after her attitude in Katsina. If she apologised, then perhaps. “If you’d like an appointment, I can check in his schedule for when he’s free next.”
She typed into the locked screen of her laptop. Technically, she didn’t schedule Kamali’s meetings. The administrative staff handled the calendars for the senior management team including Ebun’s calendar. Still, she didn’t bother to explain to the woman. She probably thought Ebun was a secretary.
When the calendar popped up, she took her time scrolling through until she found an opening. “There is an open slot. It’s ten thirty on the sixth of March.”
“Sixth of March? That’s almost two months from now.”
“Kamali is a busy man. If that doesn’t work, you can have the same time on the twenty-ninth of March.”
Laila’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re doing this on purpose. You don’t want me to see Kamali.”
“Why would I do that?” Ebun tilted her head.
“Because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Of you?” Ebun’s bark of laughter rang in the air. “Why in the world would I be jealous of you?”
“He is going to marry me,” Laila retorted.
“You must be deluded. A man who hasn’t spoken to you, won’t take your calls or meet with you. He doesn’t even love you. When exactly did you get engaged? In your dreams?” Ebun’s words dripped with contempt.
The younger woman’s nose flared and she glared at Ebun. “I don’t need to have seen him or to become his whore before we get married. His family wants me and that’s all it takes.”
Ebun’s body tensed and heat flushed though her. She would give Laila that point. The Danladis wanted Laila. Kamali wanted Ebun.
“In which case you should get ready to be wife number three because as you already know he is engaged to me. So we will be co-wives.”
Ebun didn’t know what made her say that. But she couldn’t take the words back as she realised she meant them. She wouldn’t give up Kamali. Not for Laila.
And Kamali needed the support of Laila’s father.
Ebun would concede to this. After all that he’d done for her already, why not give this to him?
Laila gasped and her mouth dropped open, her expression flabbergasted.
“And another thing,” Ebun continued, enjoying the upper hand she wielded. “I’m going to be your senior. I already have Kamali’s heart and this space—” she waved her hand around the office “—this whole building is my domain. I am queen here. So if you ever want Kamali to make time for you, you better start showing me some respect.”
Ebun nearly giggled because she sounded like a megalomaniac but it was worth the effort as it wiped the smugness off the younger woman’s face.
After a few seconds of silence, Laila lowered her head and let out a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low, disgruntled voice.
“I didn’t hear you.” Ebun cupped her right ear.
Laila lifted her head and met Ebun’s gaze. There was still a glimmer of anger but it didn’t have the earlier disdain. “I’m sorry.”
“Your apology is accepted,” Ebun said. “If you give me your contact details I’ll get Kamali to call you when he is free.”
Laila called out the number and Ebun scribbled it on a notepad.
“Got it,” she said.
“Thank you.” Laila stood up.
“You’re welcome.” Ebun didn’t get up. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Laila said as the door shut behind her.
Ebun let out a heavy sigh. What had she just agreed to?
Two weeks ago, she hadn’t been the marrying kind. Now, she was negotiating her position in a potentially polygamous marriage? What madness possessed her?
Her ringing phone
jarred her out of her thoughts.
She didn’t recognise the number. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ebun. It’s Fahima.”
She picked up the distress in the woman’s shrill voice and her heart jolted.
“Fahima, are you okay? What’s the matter?”
“I’m not good. There’s been an accident. Fari is in hospital.”
Ebun’s chest ached and her hands trembled.
“Oh God. No. What happened? Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I can’t reach Kamali. I know he said he’d be in New York this week.”
“Yes. He’s in New York. I’ll call and tell him.”
“Thank you. He’s going to be upset especially since he can’t be here right away.”
“I know. Which hospital is Fari? Is it in Abuja?” Ebun asked, gasping and expelling breath.
Fari’s school was in Abuja and she assumed that’s where the accident occurred.
“Yes,” Fahima said. “It’s the Regents Park hospital. I only just got a call a few minutes ago. I’m on my way over there.”
“What about Rashi and Veda?” Ebun remembered Fahima’s daughters were in the same school as Fari.
“They are fine.”
“Thank God. Okay. I’ll call Kamali and then I’ll be on a flight up to Abuja.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No. Fari needs all the prayers and support she can get. If you tell me what time you will be arriving, I’ll have a car ready to pick you and bring you to the hospital.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know when I confirm the flight.”
Ebun hung up and rushed from her chair. She opened the door and walked over to one of the administrative staff on her team.
“Vivian, get me the first available flight to Abuja this afternoon. I just need enough time to get to the airport. A helicopter shuttle to the airport would be great.”
There wasn’t time to pack a bag. She had her purse and ID in her tote. Anything else she needed she could buy when she got to Abuja.
She returned to the office, shut the door and braced herself to deliver the news to Kamali.
He was understandably upset about Fari and cancelled the rest of this plans in New York. Luckily, he’d flown with a private jet and so he didn’t have to wait for a commercial flight. Still, it would be another eleven or twelve hours before he would be back in Nigeria.
Ebun arrived in Abuja about two hours later. Fahima’s driver had taken her straight to the hospital where Fahima explained that Fari needed urgent blood infusion. Fari had a rare blood type and the hospital had run out of the donor blood.
Fahima wasn’t a match and Ebun volunteered to be tested. The result came back with Ebun as a match.
The nurse instructed her to drink as much fluid as she could. Two hours after her arrival, a medic led them to a treatment room and told her to wait there.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Fahima said.
“Don’t mention it,” Ebun said as she finished drinking a cool bottle of Fanta. She’d already emptied out the 500ml bottle of water she’d bought from the hospital cafe. “It’s the least I can do. I’m glad that I was a match.”
“It’s a miracle that you were, considering Fari has a rare blood type. I wasn’t even compatible. You are a Godsend.”
The nurse came into the room at that moment and asked Ebun to climb onto the reclining bed so that she partially sat up with her legs elevated.
“I’ll leave you to it. Let me go and check on Fari,” Fahima said.
“Okay. See you later.” Ebun tried to relax as the nurse got to work with collecting her blood.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kamali was going through the longest twelve hours of his life.
To find out while he was out of the country that his only child had been involved in a serious motor accident had been distressing. And to be too far away to be able to do anything about it was even more torturous.
Before he’d boarded his flight, he’d called his sister who had said that the hospital was trying to source blood because they didn’t have enough in the blood bank that matched Fari’s rare group.
He’d instructed them to do whatever was necessary to find donor blood even if it meant flying some in from other hospitals around Nigeria.
His muscles were cramped and sore as he disembarked the flight at the airport terminal. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the long haul flight. He hadn’t been able to sleep while his mind conjured mangled images of his daughter.
In the back seat of the waiting car, he tilted his head against the rest and closed his eyes briefly once they began the journey to the hospital. Then he pulled his phone out and called his sister.
“How is Fari?” he asked as soon as she answered.
“She’s better,” his sister said. “She got the transfusion.”
He exhaled in relief and said a silent prayer of gratitude. “Where did the blood come from?”
“Ebun donated her blood.”
“Ebun? My Ebun?”
His sister laughed. “Of course, your Ebun. Do I know anyone else with that name?”
Warmth spread through his chest. Ebun had told him she would travel to Abuja. But he hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of her words after she’d mentioned the accident and Fari’s hospitalisation.
“It’s a miracle that your fiancée was an exact match. The doctor said that they were so similar Ebun could’ve been Fari’s mother.”
“It is a miracle indeed,” Kamali said. “I should be at the hospital soon. Go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
With Fari out of critical care, he didn’t expect his sister to still be at the hospital. And it was past midnight.
“I’m home already. Have a good night.”
His sister hung up.
Something niggled in Kamali’s mind when they arrived at the hospital. When he’d asked his daughter what she’d thought about Ebun, she’d said Ebun reminded her of her mother.
It seemed the two of them had formed a close bond.
Ebun had travelled out here without his request and had donated blood to save Fari’s life, something a mother would do for a child, unconditionally.
Was there another kind of love?
What more could he ask his future wife than for her to love his daughter like she would her birth child.
In the hospital foyer, a man lay on a bench asleep. A nurse in blue scrubs sat behind the counter. Kamali approached her.
“Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Mr. Danladi. My daughter Fari was brought in yesterday. Accident victim. Please tell me which ward she’s in?”
The nurse looked at the in-patient list and said. “Sir, it is past visiting hour. You can come back in the morning after nine.”
“Please. I’ve just come straight from New York. I’m her father and I don’t want her alone all night.”
“But she’s not alone.” She glanced down at the list again. “It says here that her mother is spending the night with her.”
“Her mother?” Kamali frowned. Had his sister decided to stay on after all?
“Yes, Mrs. Ebun Danladi. Isn’t that your wife?” the nurse asked.
“Oh, yes.” He recovered from his shock. “I didn’t realise she stayed. I thought she would have gone home for the night.”
“Yes, she’s here.”
“Can I stay too. Please. If it was your only daughter who was injured wouldn’t you want to be by her side until she was fully recovered?”
“Of course, sir.” The nurse sighed. “You can go up. She’s in the paediatrics ward, in the giraffe room. Take the lifts to level two. Just be quiet. I’ll let the staff up there know that you’re coming.”
“Thank you,” Kamali said as the nurse lifted the phone on the desk.
He ignored the lift and took the stairs. On floor two, he pressed the buzzer and was let in
by the nurses on duty. The wards were quiet and dimly lit, the children asleep with screens drawn around them. He followed the directions until he came to the private rooms.
Fari’s was at the end of the corridor. Through the glass slot in the door, he saw his daughter on the bed and also the woman asleep on the second bed.
Something fluttered in his stomach. He didn’t think he’d been more in love with Ebun than he was at this moment.
She lay on her side, facing Fari’s bed, fully clothed in a skirt and top, her feet bare.
He pushed the door gently, not wanting to wake either of them and yet not wanting any distance between him and his girls.
Ebun shifted and opened her eyes as he placed a kiss on her cheek. She blinked at him before her lips widened in a smile.
“You’re here,” her voice sounded husky.
“I came straight from the airport. How is she?” He turned to his daughter and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Her right leg was strapped and elevated on pillows and a drip bag was attached to her left arm.
“The prognosis is good. She’s a fighter, just like her father.” Ebun said.
“I was really worried about her and being so far away was a nightmare.” He held onto Fari’s right arm.
“You’re here now and she’s going to make a full recovery.”
“Thanks to you.” He turned around.
“Thanks to me? Hardly. The doctors did all the work. I’ve done nothing.”
“You donated blood that saved her life.”
Ebun shrugged and looked away as if embarrassed.
“And you stayed here when everyone else has gone home to their beds.”
Ebun pushed herself up to she was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I couldn’t think of leaving her, especially since you weren’t here. I don’t want her to wake up and think she’s on her own. I don’t want her to ever feel alone like I used to feel when I was her age.”
“You love her, don’t you?” Kamali sat on the bed beside her.
His question seemed to catch her off balance. She gasped and then said quietly, “Yes. She is a wonderful girl, a daughter any parent would wish for. I didn’t realise how much I wanted to be a mother to her until Fahima told me about the accident. I would have donated my organs if she’d needed them.”