Getting up on his feet, Banjo felt anger return to his head. He flicked his fingers across his hair. “I’m going to get us drinks.”
Without waiting to find out whether Olivia wanted a drink, he headed to the kitchen. Behind him, Olivia spoke softly. “I want to meet her, Dad. I want to see if she’s as beautiful as I imagine.”
The glass in his hands hit the sink and cracked in two.
“Don’t cut yourself,” Olivia cautioned with a grin she did not bother to conceal.
Dumping the broken glass in the bin, Banjo folded his hands and faced his daughter. “I don’t think that’s possible. You tell me where your mum intends to spend her summer holiday.”
Olivia stood beside him and tugged his arm. “If you agree to speak with Rachael, I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Olivia!” he complained, “I’m not negotiating with you, young lady.”
Giggling, she skipped around the kitchen. “My mum negotiates with Nan all the time. Grand Dad and Nan negotiate on everything. Adults do it and I see them smiling afterward.”
For the first time in the last two weeks, Banjo chuckled, watching his daughter have fun at his expense. He had no idea Olivia had grown so perceptive. Being around adults most of the time seemed to have given Olivia an insight into how adult minds work.
“Is your mum moving abroad?”
Shrugging with her palms spread out, Olivia returned to the living room and sat beside her Lego bricks. “Call Rachael on the phone, talk to her and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Women, young and old were stubborn and secretive when they wanted to be and he was fed up with trying to know how their minds work.
Carrying two cups of soft drinks to the living room, Banjo sat down opposite his daughter.
“Rachael might not want to speak with me or she might be busy.”
“But you’ve not tried. Call her now and see if she’s busy.”
Suddenly, his mouth dried up and his heart hammered within his chest. Guilt mixed with pride and residual anger flowed to his head.
Grinning at him, Olivia stood up. “I’ll be back,” she said before she walked away. Soon she was back with his mobile phone in her hands.
His eyes bulged, completely overtaken with nerves. “Not now, Olivia. I’ll call her later.”
Frowning, his daughter shook her head. “No! Unlock your phone and speak to her now. I think she might be unhappy.”
“Why would you think that? You don’t even know her.” Still, the thought of speaking with Rachael made his stomach walls clench.
Returning to building the doll room on the first floor on her Lego mansion, Olivia sighed. “I know you, Dad. You make people happy and you’re handsome. Mum talks about the happy days she had with you a lot.”
Feigning a casual stance, Banjo took a sip from his glass. “But your mum moved on years ago.”
“Yes, but she’s not always happy. I bet Rachael isn’t happy too. And you’re not yourself. Call her for my sake, please. I want to meet her.”
Giving into the urge to put a smile on Olivia’s gloomy face, he called Rachael’s number. It rang several times, then it went to voice message.
“Call again,” Olivia persisted.
Obediently, he called again. After several rings, the line connected and his stomach churned.
“Hello Rachael?” In his head, he stumbled over her name as his pulse quickened.
“Banjo?” his mum screamed. “Where are you?”
He scowled. Why would his mum answer Rachael’s phone call? “Hello Mum. Where’s Rachael?”
“Rachael’s undergoing surgery as we speak.”
Banjo launched to his feet as if a grenade hit the building. And so did his daughter who frowned and clutched his arm. “What happened, Mum? Is she injured? Surgery?”
“She’s been in theatre for three hours, Banjo. Just pray for her health. Pray that God intervenes and spares her life because for once, I’m scared. If anything happened to Rachael, what will I tell her mum?”
Banjo paced his living room and tears trooped out of his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Inhaling sharply to ease his nerves, he stopped pacing. “Slow down, Mum. I’ll be in Monaco on the next available flight. Keep faith. Rachael will be fine by God’s grace.”
“Thank you,” his mum said before she ended the call.
Banjo buckled to his knees as fear claimed his heart. Olivia hugged him tight and he ruffled her hair.
“You’re an angel, Olivia,” he whispered, wiping away tears with his forearm.
“Dad, you’ve got to go now. I’ll call my mum to come and pick me up. Tell Rachael she’ll be fine. God is watching over her.”
Touched by his daughter’s spirit of compassion, shame drenched his soul. He had refused to listen to Rachael. He refused to forgive her. He refused to contact the woman he promised was his own. You’re mine, the words he had said to her now mocked him.
Quickly, he called Tess. Thank God she answered on the first ring.
“Is Olivia okay?” Tess asked in panic. Only because he never called when he had his daughter except when his time with her was over and he was parked outside Tess’s family home on Wittersham Road also in Bromley.
“Olivia’s doing great. There’s an emergency. I’ve got to fly to Monaco immediately. Do you mind coming over to pick Olivia now?”
“That’s not possible, Banjo. You have her this weekend. I’ve made plans. Right now, I’m not in London. You’ve got to find a way.”
There was no time to think about several options. “Fine. Enjoy your weekend. Olivia’s going with me to Monaco.” He disconnected the call and hurled his daughter into his arms.
Olivia squealed in delight. “Yes! I get to go with you to Monaco. I’ll visit my second Nan and finally meet Rachael. Wow!”
Only last weekend, he had asked Tess for Olivia’s passport. He still had not returned it. He rushed into his bedroom, collected their travel documents and packed two small bags.
“Olivia Ricci, you’re an amazing child. Are you happy to spend your summer holidays in Monaco?”
“It would be my dream come true.”
Relieved beyond words, Banjo and Olivia journeyed to Heathrow airport in a hired taxi.
Fourteen
Fontvieille, Monaco
After he let himself and Olivia inside their home in Fontvieille, Banjo made sure his daughter had a bath. Then he fed her and hurried to his room to take a quick shower. By the time he was done, his mum returned from the hospital.
At the entrance door, Banjo embraced Tinu. When he pulled back, Tinu’s eyes were slightly red-rimmed. Just like him, it was obvious she’d indulged in a good cry.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he apologized, holding onto his mum’s hands. “Now you’re back home, I need you to relax. I’ll take it up from here, I promise.”
“It’s good to have you back.” Tinu sniffed, tapping her son’s back. “You broke her heart, Banjo. You’ve got to make it right with her. She’s not the same without you.”
“I’m so sorry, Mum. Olivia’s with me.”
Straightaway, Tinu broke free from her son’s arms, a big smile on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming with you? I would have been here to receive her. I would have cooked.”
As Tinu hurried out of the porch into the hallway, her granddaughter ran into her arms. Tinu went on her knees, cuddling Olivia in a warm hug and cooing in her ears.
“Oh, my darling Olivia. I’ve missed you so much. See how big you’ve grown.”
Olivia remained in her Nan’s arms, her smile as round as the London eye. “I’m very happy to see you, Nan. I hope Rachael’s fine.”
Tinu looked over her granddaughter’s head at her son. “You’ve told her about Rachael?”
Nodding, Banjo shoved both hands through his hair. “Olivia asked me to call. In fact, she pushed me to call.”
“Thank you,” Tinu said to Olivia before she faced Banjo. “At least someone was s
ensible.” Then Tinu took her granddaughter’s hand and guided her to the kitchen.
“Mum, I’m off to the hospital,” he called out from where he stood.
“Good luck with that. Visiting hours are over.”
Joining his mum in the kitchen, Banjo cleared his throat. “Is Rachael stable now?”
Bustling around the kitchen, Tinu poured three glasses of lemonade. “Rachael’s in the ward, but still under sedation. It will be tomorrow before she’s fully awake.”
Coming to stand beside him, Olivia tugged his arm. “Don’t worry, Dad, she’ll be okay. Be strong for us.”
Squatting down to be at eye level with Olivia, Banjo struggled to string his emotions together for his daughter’s sake. He embraced her and kissed her forehead. “I love you, my angel. Be a good girl. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Banjo, have you had something to eat?” Tinu asked, looking ready to throw a meal together.
“I’m not hungry. See you, Mum.” As he turned to leave, Olivia followed behind.
“Drink something, Dad. You’ll need it.”
For the sake of his daughter, Banjo downed the glass of lemonade without tasting it. “Bye,” he said, his tone cryptic as he rushed out of the house.
An ambulance siren stirred Banjo from his nap in A Qietudine Hospital. He launched to his feet and straightened his shirt and shorts. Taking a harried look at the reception room in the hospital, Banjo rushed to the reception desk.
“Hello Ma’am, I’m Banjo Ricci. I’ve come to visit my fiancée who has just undergone surgery.”
“Hello Mr. Ricci. Do you know the ward the patient is in at all?”
“Yes, I should have started with that I guess. She’s in Dino Ward.”
Nodding with a grin on her face, one of the receptionists pointed to his right. “Go straight along the corridor, turn right to the yellow zone. Take the lift to the second floor. Turn left and Dino Ward is right in front of you.”
Giving the table a quick tap, Banjo nodded. “Thank you.”
Down the corridor, he almost flew on his wings. Before long, he was at another reception desk manned by three female nurses, who all turned to him with broad smiles on their faces.
“How may I help you?” the dark-skinned woman with tiny braids asked, her eyes widening and her lips painted a dark red shade crafted a swift smile.
“Hello, Nurse Dupe. I’ve come to see my fiancée, Rachael Johnson.”
The nurse peered at her screen and pointed to his right. “Keep walking, she’s in ward six, on your left.”
Pushing away from the table, Banjo waved. “Thanks.” At last, he almost muttered out loud.
Last night, he was turned back because it was late. He had to make his bed on the uncomfortable seats at the main reception. Though the seats were not designed for sitting for long hours, making his bed on them was his last resort.
When he stepped inside the ward, his chest thumped and his pulse raced. He had not seen Rachael in two weeks.
The first bed, was empty. The one opposite it had a white woman who was fast asleep. He moved forward and stopped, gasping for air. Rachael was asleep on the bed to his right and her hands laid limp by her sides. Covered with white sheets and blue blankets up to her chest, she looked very weak. Monitors stood on both sides of her bed and one was connected to her left wrist.
Dread gripped his gut and guilt assailed his mind. Irrational and too quick to judge, he had missed the opportunity to be by her side when she had needed him. Quick images of Rachael nearly passing out in his arms fanned his fear. He swallowed and then hastened to her side. With his heart drumming in his ears, he clinched her right arm and bowed his head over her fingers.
Flaccid, yet warm, her arm provided him with gentle comfort. Warmth engulfed his fingers. Abundantly grateful she was alive, he muttered, “thank you” to God for sparing her life.
Sluggishly, Rachael opened her eyes.
“Rachael!” Relief appeased his anxiety.
She gave him a glacial glare and her lips compacted into a flat stripe. Or to be exact, she looked through him, before she turned her head to the other side.
Something shifted inside him, but he shrugged off her rejection. Banjo lifted Rachael’s limp fingers to his lips and stuck kisses across her knuckles. “I’m so sorry I abandoned you,” he whispered. “I’m deeply sorry.” Guilt was a killer, and he hated every shade of it at the moment.
Still, she kept her face averted. What had he expected? A hero’s welcome? After he shunned her and walked out of her life without a backward glance or a phone call? Tension tightened his empty stomach, forcing bitter liquid to his throat. He swallowed, hoping he would not be sick. Olivia’s words; be strong strengthened him.
“Rachael? Please forgive me for the way I treated you. I was wrong not to have listened when you begged me to hear you out. I’m not going to leave your side or eat any food until you speak to me. So, take as long as two weeks if you must, as payback.”
For what seemed like eons, Banjo stood by her side, massaging her arm with the sole intention his heat would enliven her weak hand.
A nurse wearing blue scrubs came in shortly after and took a perfunctory look at Rachael. Somehow, Rachael managed a nod at the slender, brown-haired woman.
“How are you doing this morning, Rachael?”
“I’ll live.” Her voice sounded beaten.
“Would you like to sit up now or later?”
“Not yet.” A scowl marred her pretty brow.
“And the pain?” The nurse persisted, her lips widening with each question.
“I think the anaesthetic is still in full power,” Rachael joked. “If I need medication, I’ll let you know.”
Smiling at Rachael, the nurse nodded. “Do you want water to drink?” The Spanish woman bowed to check for something in the drawer, yet her shoulder-length hair barely moved.
Rachael nodded. “I’m thirsty.”
“You have a good-looking fiancé,” Nurse Harriet said in a loud voice, drawing the attention of the elderly woman in the opposite bay.
The white woman spotting snow-capped hair waved at Banjo and gave him a broad smile. He waved back and returned a friendly nod.
Just then, Rachael turned his way and he kept his expression sombre and his eyes inscrutable. “Too handsome for his own good,” she grumbled faking a mild grin for Nurse Harriet’s benefit.
Handing Rachael a plastic cup of water, Nurse Harriet moved the trolley towards her patient. “I would do anything to have a man like him hold my hands for thirty seconds.”
As if poked by a bear, Rachael glowered at him. Pouncing on the opportunity to atone for his sin, he winked at Rachael, bowed his head and pecked her lips.
Nurse Harriet giggled and excused herself from the scene unfolding before her eyes and drew the privacy curtain around Rachael’s bed.
Perfect timing, he celebrated in isolation.
“I hate you right now, Banjo Ricci.” The venom in her words was masked by the flash of heat in her adoring dark eyes.
“You just spoke to me,” he grinned, still holding on to her hand. “I deserve your hate and I apologize. If you want me to lick your feet or count the hair on your body with my tongue, I will, just to make it up to you.”
Before he finished speaking, Rachael started to chuckle. Then her face contorted in pain, while she placed her free hand on her belly.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not supposed to make you laugh yet.”
“I still hate you,” she forced out through gritted teeth when the pain subsided.
“When you see who came along from England to see you, maybe you’ll forgive me.”
Dimming her eyes, she sighed. “If I had died, you would have attended my funeral in style.” Her tone lost the harsh sting. Hope strengthened his heart for the moment.
“God forbid! I’m back to make things right. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”
“It doesn’t matter, Banjo. I thank God who saved my life.
The doctors battled for four hours. When you’ve been through such a dark tunnel, holding a grudge sinks to the bottom of the pile.”
Leaning down, he rested his head beside hers on the pillow. “I’ve missed you every single day I’ve been away. I struggled to keep it all together. I wanted you, but the hurt got in the way. It’s no excuse. I could have called.”
“Can we do this later? I’m too weak to worry about why you didn’t call. As angry as I sound, I’m relieved you’re here.”
Joy in a million-fold swamped him. He brushed his lips across her cheek and touched the tip of her nose with one finger. He’d missed her in a way that left him shaken. Why did he run out of the house two weeks ago? Maybe he fled because he’d connected with her on an emotional level he was not prepared to accept with his whole heart. Whatever it was, he needed to fix it.
“Are you going to tell me why you needed surgery?” His mum had not enlightened him and he had not pushed.
When she stared at him, tears swam at the back of her eyes. “To take out the many fibroids in my womb.”
“Fibroids?” Gobsmacked, he searched for what to say. Then he said the only thing that flared up in his head. “Was that why you looked pregnant?”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to talk about it. I looked pregnant, but I wasn’t. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? I felt like a fraud each time anyone asked after the baby.”
Holy Lord! “Why?” He was ignorant to a fault.
“Because I wasn’t sure whether the doctor was going to take out my womb. I didn’t want to speak about it because it hurt too much to accept I might never carry a child in my womb if it was taken out.”
All of a sudden, her demeanour before the surgery made sense to him. The numerous selfies of her bump. The framed semi-nude photo. All reminders of her ‘pregnant’ self, just in case she never had the privilege of being pregnant post-surgery. A thousand sharp knives twisted his stomach, pushing intense pain up to his chest and to his gut. He took a nervous swallow. For a split second, he could almost taste the bitter liquid at the back of his throat. “While I thought you were pregnant, you were battling with the knowledge you might never get pregnant. How callous of me!”
You're Mine ~ A Sweet & Steamy Romance Page 12
