Jabali's Redemption - Episode 28

 

Neema paused from writing and shook her head to clear the cobwebs and thoughts blocking her flow of ideas. She looked at the blank page on the screen of her laptop and all she could see was Jabali scowling face. For the past one week, he had been leaving home very early and returning very late. Obviously, he was avoiding her, nothing else could explain the behavior. She tried her hardest to stay awake and wait on him but he somehow managed to come in when she was asleep . it frustrated her to no end. Like the previous night, she had been sleeping on the coach inside the library waiting for him, she woke up to find herself somehow in the bed and he was nowhere to be seen. What type of marriage is this? She felt her head pounding and placed her fingers and messaged her temples to reduce the ache. Staying up almost the whole day on the computer did not agree with her eyes.

Jabali had been right about one thing though, the moment she decided to start writing, ideas didn’t stop flowing. She wrote and wrote. Poems and short stories. Happy stories of her adventures when she was younger. Stories about Naiti and his mischievousness, it helped her remember her brother in a fond way and not the way he was brutally killed.

 She had found a new laptop on the library desk on her second day in the library. A note on top of it read;

Once a writer, always a writer,

J.

It warmed her heart that Jabali didn’t forget about her writing

All episodes of this story can be found here >> https://www.ebonystory.com/story/jabali-s-redemption

. She had something to keep her busy considering she was spending most of her day in the house with little and no work to do. Once in a while the housekeeper would ask her for her suggestion on what to prepare, which type of linen to spread on the beds and other minor house details. Neema had also taken charge on what foods to be prepared for most meals, though the maids were competent enough to work without supervision. Her leg injury had eased a bit and she could talk walks outside in the gardens. In the evenings as she took break from staring on the computer, she would go and water the flowers, prune and care for them. The action was relaxing and it took her mind off a lot of things.

Her anger with Jabali for going after Ngao had lessened considerably. She was being hard on him when he was trying to help her brother. She felt bad and wanted to apologize but the man was playing hard to get. He was hardly at home and he never stayed long at the house. How was she going to apologize if she couldn’t see him? Ngao’s old school had apparently recalled their expulsion and he was back. Neema let out a sigh of relief, the deputy principal Ngao had practically choked had decided to throw away the case. At least now Ngao was close to mama. Neema had feared her mother would be lonely in the house all alone but Ngao was back in town to keep her company.

Deciding she couldn’t write anymore; she saved her work and closed the laptop and slowly walked out of the library. It was evening and the lights had been put on. Like always the house was silent. No one was about. Neema estimated that the servants were in the kitchen where they liked to meet and socialize. She had caught them a couple of minutes doing that, as always, they were respectful towards her but she feared they talked behind her back. She wouldn’t blame them; she was a new bride who was hardly ever with her new husband. They must have noticed his behavior of leaving early in the morning and returning late at night when the house was asleep of course they would gossip. She couldn’t blame them.

Her soft sandals shuffled against the marble floor as she made her way to the huge front French door. She stepped in the front steps and the fresh scent of blooming flowers hit her nose and she took a deep breath. Going towards the garden shade to retrieve the watering container, Neema wondered why the Kasris’ built their home up in the mountain far away from everyone else, where the temperatures were lower than average. she had on a house coat to prevent from catching a cold but the air was cool. The tall house windows were decorated with heavy draping curtains to conserve heat and an air conditioner was installed inside the whole house. Neema knew that in the mountains there were other mansions but they were considerably set far from each other.

She filled the watering can on the garden tap and set out. Though rain was constant and the flowers were well watered, some needed special care.

The hairs stood on her back when she felt someone looking at her. Neema stopped what she was doing and turned around but no one was there, only the thick expanse of trees that bordered the electric fence. Neema shook her head and decided that she it was all in her head, she was imagining things.

 She turned back to the watering but this time she heard rustling of fallen leaves behind her. Her heart jumped out of her chest when she saw someone stepping outside the bushy trees. Dressed in a long raincoat and a hat and coming towards her. Neema screamed and fell down as the figure took a step towards her. The garden was well lit but the tall vegetation gave the places shadows and the figure was well hidden by the shadows as it approached her, slowly, deliberately. Neema was transported back in the past where such an event almost had her raped.

This couldn’t be happening.

‘Mrs. Kasri,’ the sound of the gardener called and the figure stopped its approach taking a step back and disappearing back into the undergrowth as it had appeared, Neema looked on frozen. The water from the watering can had spilled down and was soaking her clothes.

‘Madam, where are you?’ the gardener’s frantic voice called before he appeared on the bend and found her on her back still gazing at the place where the figure had disappeared to, shaking with fear. ‘Oh Madam, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?’ the old man asked bending towards her, his face with deep frowns.

‘He…the man…he was here,’ Neema pointed with a shaking finger towards the position where the person had disappeared to. She was trembling so bad that the words could not come out of her mouth clearly.

The old gardener turned towards where she was pointing, ‘Madam there is no one there, are you okay?’

‘There was a man in a raincoat and a hat over there,’ she pointed her voice laced with frustration, why didn’t he believe her. Her worst dreams had come back to hound her. It had taken Neema some time to get over her almost rape ordeal. The last time, she was lucky to see her attacker, Majid but now she didn’t see the face of the tall man. Neema openly shuddered, it couldn’t be Majid. He wouldn’t dare attack her inside the Jabali’s house. It must have been someone else, maybe a thief or a trespasser. He wasn’t targeting her; Neem shook her head it must have been a coincidence, she tried to console herself.

‘Madam are you okay?’ the soft voice of the housekeeper asked and Neema turned to see all the servants had joined the gardener and had worried looks on their faces.

‘Find the man, he was here,’ she tried to tell them but they only stared blankly at her, totally not believing her.

‘Madam, we have never had a break in here,’ the cook said in a mocking voice and the housekeeper hit her on the ribs to silence her. The cook winced and sent the housekeeper a scowl.

They didn’t believe her, that was obvious. On top of thinking that she was a neglected bride, they would think she was crazy, seeing things. She shook her head and took the outstretched hand of the gardener who helped her up.

She nervously laughed, ‘You are right, being cooped in the library that much. I must be seeing things. You can all go back to your duties, the show is over,’ she walked away with as much dignity as her scared body could master.

Neema knew what she saw, there had been a man inside the garden and he had on raincoat and straw hats. The same type of clothes Majid had used years back to try and molest her. Neema wondered if her past was here to haunt her or was Majid trying to complete what he started years back?

………………………………

‘No, go away,’ Neema screamed and woke up thrashing on the bed. Breathing hard and heart thumping, she sat up and looked at the bedside clock. It blinked 5.30 am in the morning. The side of her bed was slept on and she knew Jabali had come home last night. She must have missed him again. After her ordeal in the garden she went straight to bed and took sleeping pills. She was gone the moment she hit the pillow. Sighing with regret, today she would go and search for him in the office. He had warned her against going to the office for some reason but if he kept on evading her, she wouldn’t have a choice but hunt him down.

As she was planning what to do, she saw his digital silver watch on top of his bedside drawer. She sat alert, Jabali never went anywhere without his watch. That meant he was still around. Neema stepped down from the bed and secured her night dress before venturing out of the bedroom to look for her estranged husband.

Her slipper didn’t make much noise on the floor, slowly she made her away to the library. Maybe he was working on something but he wasn’t in the library. Next she went to the kitchen thinking he had gone to fix himself a snack but the place was quiet and dark. Neema stood in the dark hallway and listened carefully. Where was Jabali, she tapped her finger on her jaw in thought.

Then she heard faint sounds coming from the behind the stairs. Sounds from the basement. Neema’s breath held in her throat. There was someone inside the house, maybe the man earlier inside the garden had come back to finish what he started.

Thinking fast, she decided to act. This time she won’t be caught unawares or in fright. She would fight. Retracing her footsteps, she walked back into the kitchen and took the largest knife she could find. Satisfied, she removed her slippers and tip toed slowly to the basement.

The door was open and Neema could see the lights were on top of the spiral stairs that led downwards. She could also hear the soft reggae music playing. Wait, the thief was playing reggae? Neema was astonished, the nerve! Tightening her hand on the knife she slowly walked down the stairs.

The sight that greeted her was not what she expected. Neema was expecting to see a man in a long rain coat pilfering but instead it was the sweaty muscular back of Jabali that greeted her. She knew it was his back because of the way her body reacted to him. Holding the knife close to her chest, she plastered herself on the door calming her thudding heart. So that was where he had disappeared to, she figured.  Deciding to walking off before he caught her but Neema couldn’t walk off. She decided she would ogle him one more time before she left. Jabali had the best physique she had seen on any man. As cautious as possible she turned back and gazed at Jabali from behind the door.

To her delight, he had turned and he was running on the treadmill. His muscles flexing and sweat running from his chest and Neema swallowed. She wished she was near to run her hands across his pecs. It had been long since she did that and he didn’t have the impressive muscles he had now. He had always been well built but like fine wine he had aged better. Neema found herself almost giggling at her mischievous thoughts. She really should leave but her legs refused to move and her eyes were glued to him. Jabali seemingly oblivious to her, went on with his workout. He left the treadmill and hunched down to do press up, Neema found herself counting for him. His back muscles contracting with each effort. She counted up to hundred and he didn’t appear to be stopping. Suddenly he stood up and faced the door where she was hiding, his cut eyebrow giving him a lethal look.

Neema bolted. She ran up the stairs and out of the basement nearly falling on her long nightdress.

She could hear him coming up the stairs and she knew she had to act quickly she couldn’t let him catch her. What was she doing Neema cursed herself, she had been ogling him! How embarrassing. Thinking he would go up the first floor, Neema dashed into the kitchen and walked to the fridge. If he caught her, she would deny being in the basement and say she was looking for drinking water. Which was true, she was thirsty. Neema fanned herself as she walked towards the fridge. Living with Jabali was going to be difficult than she thought.

Jabali followed her inside the kitchen, ‘Neema? What are you doing up?’ Neema felt hearing his deep morning voice. She was turned towards the fridge

‘Jabali, you are still here?’ she feigned ignorance, ‘I thought you had already left,’

Neema tried to maintain eye contact as he approached her. He was moving towards her, slowly and she found herself trapped not being able to move with Jabali coming on towards her and the cool metal door of the fridge behind her. His glorious chest that she had momentarily thought of touching was now inches away from her.

‘Have you been in the basement?’ he asked in his deep voice and Neema felt her inside warming up. what was wrong with her? Him being close made her feel lightheaded as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

Answer him.

‘Me? basement?’ her voice was coming out husky, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he was standing so close she had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes. Dark eyes with so much emotion, all the anger was gone and replaced by heat. His gaze burned through the night dress she had on. She felt the material tightening around her chest and her breath constricting.

‘So, it’s not you?’ he asked lazily as if he knew the answer, he reached behind her and Neema found herself stepping back on the cool refrigerator door, the cool surface doing nothing to cool her boiling blood. He was close and his heat warmed her considerably. If she moved an inch, she would touch him, oh how much she wanted to touch him. Neema bit her lip to prevent herself from moaning.

‘Who was it?’ he whispered leaning down towards her, his voice was seductive and his gaze fixed on her lips,

‘Hmmm,’ Neema couldn’t speak, her brain cells fried.

‘Who was in the basement?’ he repeated his questions his finger tracing her cheek lightly. Neema felt burned, in a good way.

‘A…umm…a cat,’ somehow, she managed to answer and Jabali took a step back and let out a hearty laughter his whole-body vibrating. Neema was momentarily drawn into his laughter. He had a beautiful laugh; too bad he rarely did that.

He then stopped the way he had began and pulled her to him, Neema gasped and her hands automatically went to his muscly biceps, yes finally she thought distractedly, ‘Beautiful wife, you don’t have to deny it.

Read " The Dancing Bride And Her Spirit Warrior " by the same author ( Razia Iminza )

. I know it was you, if you wanted to look all you could do was ask,’ he said cockily, a side of his mouth raised in a half smile.

He then bent down with the finesse Neema had never witnessed and he kissed her. She was stiff for a second before she responded. This time his kiss was not rough like the one they shared in the elevator but he was gentle with her. He kissed her leisurely, like a man cherishing her. He kissed like he didn’t want to stop.

Something in her head went off that she was making a mistake but this time round she ignored it. Later, she would think about the consequences of her action. Later, not now. Right now, she would enjoy the warmth of his body and the tenderness of his kiss. Jabali was the only one who could dispel the image of the man in a raincoat and a straw hat from her head.

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Hey Ebonites, hope you are doing fine.

I hope you enjoy the story. Let us accompany Neema and Jabali as they try to find their way to each other. Otherwise what do you think of the story? Who is after Neema?

Tell me what you think about it in the comment below.

Much Love.