Scarlett Bride (The Scarletts Page 4

  "When I get home in a couple of months I just need to go to court and get the final decree from a judge and then I'll take Ashaki off your hands."

  Oliver grimaced. "Is this what she wants? She's not a sack of flour, you know."

  "Yes, it's what she wants," David said confidently. "Thanks man. You are saving a life here."

  "Yes, right," Oliver said slowly, and maybe he was ruining one. His.

  ****

  They got married the next Sunday after the second service. Pastor Obagi officiated. The choir sang "O Perfect Love" as the bride marched up in a traditional white dress. Half of the song was done in Swahili. It sounded beautiful, almost as beautiful as the bride looked; her hair was in long micro braids courtesy of Faye. She had a bunch of wildflowers in her arms. The white was a visual contrast to her dark skin tone and the afternoon sun bathed her in ethereal beauty as she glided down the aisle.

  And for the life of Oliver he couldn't shake the feeling that this whole ceremony felt too real.

  David, his best man, kept whispering, “Wow” beside him.

  Oliver felt like saying ditto.

  She was beautiful and looked serene.

  Constance was Ashaki's matron of honor. They had even decorated the church in white streamers. Keith Richmond and his wife Sally were taking pictures. Sally was a professional photographer and she was having a ball taking photos. Oliver wondered how they arranged all of these things at such short notice.

  And then Ashaki was standing in front of him. This woman from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, who he had no intention of being anything more than a friend, was now standing in front of him, a smile of gratitude on her face.

  As he said the words "Before God and man to love, honor and cherish," he realized that somewhere in the back of his mind he was believing every word he uttered and that he was treading on dangerous ground.

  Chapter Four

  For their honeymoon and the rest of Oliver's stay, they were offered a recently empty family unit which was a small detached house at the back of the compound. It was usually reserved for families. It only had one room, a tiny living room with a sofa and a bathroom.

  Ashaki was the first one to enter the place. She wasn't nervous. Well, maybe she was a little bit. Oliver looked grim, as if he was having serious second thoughts about what they had done.

  She sat on the sofa and waited for him to come inside. He had gone for his bags from the main dormitory. She felt as if a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. Just one week and she would be far away from here. Maybe it was a callous way to look at her homeland but when she left Kidogo she never wanted to come back.

  She looked at the little sack at her feet, which contained her father's iron box and her two outfits and her sandals.

  That was all she had. She hadn't even found the diamonds. She felt a slight twinge of remorse. She would be depending on Oliver for everything from now on and she had no idea if he could afford to keep her, but surely he wouldn't have done this if he couldn't.

  She heard a key turn in the door and then he appeared with two suitcases on wheels. He leaned them up in the corner and then looked at her.

  "So, here we are, wife."

  Ashaki smiled. "Yes, husband."

  Oliver headed to the kitchenette and looked into the fridge in the corner. "Look at that; they have water in here."

  He grabbed a bottle and looked at her. "Want one?"

  "Graci," she slipped into French easily.

  Oliver smiled. "Well, the deed is done."

  Ashaki took the water from him and nodded. "Oliver, I was thinking that as soon as we reach where we are going I'll find a job. Pay my own way."

  Oliver sat down beside her with a sigh. "There is no need for that, Ashaki. At least not yet. Our first stop will be at my mother's place in New York, and then after that we'll figure things out together."

  "In America?" Ashaki squeaked.

  "Yup." Oliver rubbed his temples. "I am going to have to prepare her for this. Maybe I'll call from the airport in Kinshasa. I'll have to call my lawyer too. He'll have to work out the logistics of your citizenship or residency or whatever. When I reach the States I call my other family members."

  "Don't worry,” he glanced at her, “we'll not stay longer than a couple days with my Mom. She can help you shop and stuff and then we head for Jamaica."

  "But you make it sound as if she'll hate me," Ashaki whispered.

  "Oh, she will." Oliver shrugged. "My mother will hate anyone I marry, temporary or otherwise. But she'll get over it."

  He looked at her little sack of things in disbelief. "Those are all the things you have?"

  "Yes." Ashaki bit her lip, feeling like the worst kind of charity case.

  "So what do you sleep in normally?" Oliver asked, raking his eyes over her body, from the top of her hair to the white dress that molded every curve of her body to her sandal-covered feet.

  He dragged his eyes off her before his mind did something crazy and reminded him that she was his wife and this was their wedding night.

  "My father's old shirt," Ashaki whispered in the overlong, charged silence. "But it is so worn out. I left it in the hut."

  "No worries." Oliver forced himself to grin and act normally. He needed to give himself a lecture: no more long expectant silences, no looking at her like she was a desirable woman.

  She was a friend. A woman who needed his help. The sooner he set the tone for how things would be, the better for both of them. No awkwardness. No expectations.

  He inhaled. "I can loan you a t-shirt. Do you want the bed or the settee?"

  "I'll be fine anywhere." Ashaki was going to point out to him that she had no idea what sleeping on a real bed felt like.

  Oliver looked at the settee. "Let me see how long the bed in it is."

  "It has a bed in it?" Ashaki looked at the compact settee incredulously.

  "Yes." Oliver pulled up the cushions and then pulled out a lever and there was indeed a bed.

  Oliver looked at it. "Seems comfy. I can be chivalrous; you take the bed."

  Ashaki didn't know where the tears came from. They were suddenly on the verge of falling.

  "Thank you, Dr. Oliver, for everything."

  Oliver ran his hand through his curly hair and looked at her with eyebrows raised. "You sure you want to thank me now? You haven't met my mother yet."

  She nodded. "I am sure I want to thank you. You are my hero, you saved my life."

  ****

  Ashaki hadn't even heard when Oliver left for work in the night. She had slept so soundly in the soft yet firm bed—no lumps, no dips in the sponge, no worn-out sheet.

  She got up and stretched, padding to the bathroom, and couldn't resist having a shower. An inside shower, not in an outhouse like the one she had in the village or the functional cubicles at the girl's dormitory.

  She examined herself closer in the mirror. The mascara from yesterday was still on her eyelashes and she could still see evidence of the makeup that Constance and Faye and the other ladies had put on her face.

  She didn't want them to wear off. She looked like some of the girls she saw in Faye's South African magazines.

  Today she would return the white dress and the gold sandals to Faye. She put them on one more time, admiring her feet in them. The knock on the door was almost frightening. She was not expecting any visitors and surely whoever it was would have seen Oliver at the clinic.

  She looked through the window at the front and saw that it was David.

  She exhaled in relief. The possibility existed of Bekele finding out where she was and coming to get her, even though she was married now.

  She opened the door, squinting at the bright sunlight outside.

  David's face was creased in concern. "Hey."

  "Hello David." Ashaki smiled. "Oliver is not here. He is..."

  "I know where he is." David grimaced. "He is finishing up minor surgery on some guy's foot. I left him over at the clinic."

&nb
sp; Ashaki leaned on the doorjamb. "I can't recall the last time I had such a peaceful sleep. I didn't even hear him leave. No more panicked dreams of me marrying Bekele."

  "You didn't sleep with him, did you?" David asked anxiously.

  Ashaki squeaked, "Who, Bekele?"

  "No," David frowned. "Oliver, your new husband."

  "Oh." Ashaki shook her head, though she hoped that would change.

  "Good." David relaxed and pushed his hand in his pockets. "Just making sure that he doesn't forget that he married you for me."

  Why did that statement make her feel a slight depression? Ashaki had no idea. She shook it off and dredged up a smile.

  "Oliver is not interested in me."

  "I don't know about that," David muttered. "You should have seen his face when you came down the aisle yesterday. He looked like a man who was suddenly beaten over the head with a bat. Shell-shocked. Speechless."

  David tugged one of her braids and put it behind her ears. "You are beautiful. I guess he just realized what I have known all along. Don't forget that I saw you first, I loved you first, okay?"

  Ashaki nodded silently, feeling a heavy burden descend on her like a cloak.

  "And as soon as I go back home and sort out my life, I am coming to find you wherever you are," David said roughly. "Promise me you will be around; promise me you'll wait."

  "I don't know if..." she cleared her throat. She couldn't promise him that.

  "I am the one that rescued you from this," David growled. "Oliver never wanted to do it. Remember that, will you?"

  "Okay." Ashaki nodded. "I promise."

  David looked satisfied at the coerced promise. He pulled her to him in a hug, which made her uncomfortable.

  The mission compound was a busy place. It would not look good for Oliver's new wife to be hugging David on the steps of his front door. Not everyone knew that this was a rescue marriage.

  She pushed herself from David after a brief while. "This doesn’t look good, David."

  "I know. I couldn't help myself." David grinned awkwardly. "Just you remember whose you are, okay?"

  Ashaki nodded but didn't answer. She felt disloyal to Oliver somehow to even verbalize a response. And she felt ungrateful. He was right. He was the one who came up with this rescue marriage plan. She owed him her gratititude.

  David left shortly after and she closed the door, slumping on it.

  ****

  Oliver looked around the crowded auditorium at the mission. Every year they had a send-away party for the volunteers who had finished their stint and simultaneously a welcome party for those who would replace them. He listened to the speeches; he gave his speech. They drank nonalcoholic wine and cheered each other. Some of them were still on duty and cycled in and out of the auditorium after giving the usual speeches.

  Go with God, we'll miss you...It was the same every year.

  He had done it last year.

  Except that he didn’t know if any doctor had actually left the compound with a wife like he was doing. Or if any other doctor had a friend who was laying down the law about his newly-acquired wife so forcefully as David was insisting to him about his.

  "Don't go sentimental on me and fall in love with her," David said a warning in his tone.

  Oliver sighed. "David, for the umpteenth time, I said I wouldn't."

  "But that's the thing about emotions," David sipped his drink. "They sneak up on you when you least expect it and then before you know it, you won't want to give her back to me, the guy who loved her first."

  "She is not a commodity; stop referring to her in that way," Oliver whispered. They were standing pretty close to another group of people who were talking and laughing and clicking their plastic cups.

  "I know she is not a commodity." David frowned at him. "Don't make me out to be a bad guy here, like one of those men that think of women like commodities. I am not."

  "Okay." Oliver held up his hands. "You are not one of those men."

  David had become more paranoid as the days wound down.

  "And don't let her fall in love with you either," David growled.

  "Okay." Oliver nodded again. "Because I control emotions, thoughts and feelings, I will ensure that Ashaki does not fall for me."

  "You know what I mean." David looked at him suspiciously. "Stop being nice to her. I saw you talking and laughing with her today. She couldn't stop giggling."

  "For goodness’ sake," Oliver muttered, "it was just a joke; if we are going to be living together we have to be civil."

  David grunted. "She likes you."

  "And I like her," Oliver said softly.

  David looked at him sharply.

  "I always have," Oliver said defensively. "Long before you decided that I should marry her, we were friends who shared jokes and that kind of thing."

  David looked doubtful. "You just be careful around my girl, Oliver Scarlett, and no one will get hurt."

  "Yes sir," Oliver saluted him with a grin. "I intend to be careful. Now calm down and wish me well."

  Chapter Five

  His mother, Honey Allen, met them at JFK airport a little after three. It was a long trip, nearly two days, and through it all, Ashaki seemed to be taking it in stride. He had told Honey when they had stopped in Kinshasa that he was arriving with his wife. He had assured her that he would explain later when she had started sobbing down the phone.

  Today she looked like she had made partial peace with the news because she had greeted Ashaki cordially. She hugged him tightly as soon as she could get her hands on him and kept up a running commentary that mostly excluded Ashaki, who looked exhausted anyway.

  When they reached her house in Scarsdale, Honey escorted Ashaki to a guest room, told her to have a rest and then headed for Oliver in his room.

  "Explain," Honey said, her voice clipped. She pushed the single plait of hair that reached her almost to her waist over her shoulders and squinted at him. "Does she know you are rich?"

  "No." Oliver closed his eyes and sat down on the bed. "Mother dearest, do you have any idea how jet lag feels?"

  "Oh yes, I do," Honey said sweetly. "Now tell me why you are claiming to have an African wife. Tell me everything."

  Oliver had to go through the story, slowly at first because Honey kept stopping him.

  When he was finished she started pacing. "But why you?"

  "Because..." Oliver sighed, "I was the only one available."

  "I don't like this, Oliver." Honey stopped pacing. She was wearing jeans and a singlet top and didn't look much older than she did when he was a kid. Her skin had yet to wrinkle and it looked blemish-free, and her long silky hair was still touching her waist. She refused to cut it. Honey always loved her hair.

  He told her how great she looked but Honey fanned him away, a frown between her eyes. "How old is this girl?"

  "Eighteen."

  "She's too young for all of this manipulation and madness to be happening in her life. A girl her age should be in school, considering which college to go to and what boy to text on her phone," Honey said, her voice filled with doom and gloom. "Why did you have to be dragged into this babysitting job?"

  Oliver sighed. He knew that this was just the beginning of Honey's diatribe. He toed off his shoes and made himself even more comfortable on the bed. This was the part where all he needed to do was grunt in the right places because Honey did not need his approval for her to continue with her diatribe.

  "They are barbaric over there in Africa, aren't they?"

  "Africa is a continent, Mother, with fifty-four countries."

  Honey snorted. "And they are all mixed up with tribal madness and civil wars and diseases."

  This was a typical reaction from his mother. Oliver made a token protest, regardless.

  "Mom, Africa is as diverse as any other continent and you were the one that insisted that I go, remember?"

  "Whatever." Honey stopped pacing. "So that guy David is married and he wants her for himself?"

 
"That's the story," Oliver mumbled. He needed a shower; he felt gritty.

  He wondered if Ashaki was settling in all right. She had been a trooper through the entire journey. She spent most of the time looking around in wide-eyed wonder. When they reached Kinshasa, she had actually teared up.

  This is my city, where I was supposed to be. Her voice had been thick with tears.

  She had spent most of the trip on Air France watching program after program in French on the in-flight television. He didn't think she slept a wink.

  "Listen, I have to go check on Ashaki." He got up and stretched.

  "No." Honey shook her head. "I'll check on her. That little bag she had—was that her only luggage?"

  "Yes." Oliver nodded. "I thought that you could take her shopping when we got here." He rubbed his eyes. "Will you do that for me?"

  "Sure, you know I an charitable." Honey nodded. "Another thing I can do for you is have her stay here with me until that guy David gets here. That way you don't have to worry about her when you go back to Jamaica."

  "But," Oliver frowned, "I don't think..."

  "I have the space," Honey said expansively. "This is a big house. It is a nice neighborhood. She'll be fine here. I have friends with daughters her age; they can take her out. She can go into the city and explore when I am at work. She'll be fine."

  "I'll think it over." Oliver didn't feel comfortable just leaving Ashaki with his mother.

  "What's there to think over?" Honey looked at him knowingly. "You two have not consummated your marriage have you?"

  "No." Oliver knew where this was going. He even knew why his mother was offering to keep Ashaki. If Ashaki stayed with her it would limit the contact she had with him.

  "Do you want to?" Honey asked, raising an eyebrow at him knowingly. "Don't think I haven't noticed that she is pretty. She looks like one of those black Barbies I had when I was a little girl. How on earth did they produce such a beauty in the deep jungles of Africa? If she decides to walk into a modeling agency tomorrow I am sure she'll be getting offers left, right and center."