Finding Love At Life's Crossroads: An Interracial Novel

by Skylar Ward

  Efia touched Rosina’s arm. “Mom, please stay. I want to talk to both of you.”

  “Okay,” Rosina said and took a seat at the foot of the four-piece dinette.

  Breathe, Efia, breathe! she told herself. “I’m going to take the job at the resort in the Bahamas.” This was not the way Efia had prepared the speech in her head, but she was thankful the words were out.

  Mr. Kwateng blew the liquid before taking a sip. “That resort is no place for a young lady to work.” He set the mug on the table. “People go to those locations to fornicate. Why would you want to go to some private island? Nothing good happens at those places.”

  How would you know what goes on at a private Island? Efia bit her tongue to keep the question in her head. “It is a high paying job, Dad, with excellent benefits, and I’ll get an opportunity to get some experience.”

  “There are no shortages of hotels in New York City,” Mr. Kwateng said. “You work at a hotel now, no?”

  “I am a reservation clerk, Dad,” Efia replied. “I have student loans to pay, and I need to start saving for an apartment. I am 23 and still living in my childhood room with a single bed.”

  “There are people in this world who don’t even have beds,” Mr. Kwateng, said. “You should thank God you have a place to lay your head.”

  Efia searched her mother’s face as though seeking the courage to forge ahead.

  Rosina Kwateng smiled.

  Efia gathered the strength she needed from her mother’s warm smile and proceeded. “Dad, I was hoping you would give me your blessings. I have to do this.”

  “No,” Mr. Kwateng said, his voice rising. “You don’t have to do this. You should be getting married, not going off to someplace where people go to do the unthinkable. I introduced you to several decent young men from good Ghanaian families. Why can’t you consider one of them? When I was your age, I was already your father. I was married by twenty-two-years-old, your mother was only twenty.”

  “I am not ready for marriage,” Efia said softly. “I haven’t lived any life yet, Dad. I don’t even know myself. I can’t be anyone’s wife before discovering who I am.”

  Mr. Kwateng waved his hand in the air. “Ah, this country! Too many liberties, I tell you. It is not good.”

  “I’m leaving next Thursday, Dad,” Efia said. “I signed the contract. It’s for six months. The company has hotels abroad. Once I am in, I can apply for other openings.”

  Mr. Kwateng rose from his seat. “I can’t stop you if that is what you want to do. Once you leave this apartment, there will be no return trip. The choice is yours, Efia. Choose wisely.”

  “Mom?” Efia shrieked.

  Rosina reached across the table and grasped Efia’s hand as Mr. Kwateng hurried over to the hall closet. Opening the door, he removed a navy-blue North Face jacket, sliding his arms into the sleeves.

  “I am going over to the social club,” he said. “I will be back in a few hours.”

  “Don’t you want to eat before you go?” Rosina asked.

  “I am not hungry,” Mr. Kwateng replied, opening the apartment’s door.

  “I will put it away,” Rosina said. “You can take it for your lunch tomorrow.”

  Mr. Kwateng grumbled under his breath as he closed the door behind him.

  ‘Choose wisely!’ Efia’s father’s words blared in her mind when the door closed. The clicking sound she had never given thought to, now seemed to carry a deeper meaning.

  I can allow the lock to remain closed and continue to live my life as usual, or I can open that door, and venture into the world—a decision that would set me on a path to self-discovery while forever changing my relationship with my father. Efia took a deep breath. “Dad is stubborn and prideful, but he is a good father, maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

  “You will not change your plans,” Rosina said.

  Efia hadn’t realized the words in her head had escaped her lips. She did a double take. “Did I hear you correctly, Mom?”

  “You heard me,” Rosina said. “Let’s put some water on and make a fresh pot of tea. After, we will talk.”

  “Mom, I don’t like Lemongrass.”

  Rosina stood. “I know, my child. I will make you some Earl Grey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Efia followed her mother into the kitchen. Her eyes traveling around the small space before landing on a cookie jar. Reaching for the container, she opened it. “When did you buy Nkate, Mom?”

  “I was wondering when you would notice,” Rosina said, filling a small pot with water. “I brought them home yesterday.”

  Efia broke a piece of the Nkate, tossing it into her mouth. “Ummm, this is so good.”

  She cut a second bit of the sweet treat also known as peanut brittle before closing the glass cookie jar and returning it to the open shelf.

  “You bought another Dadesen?” Efia ran her hands across the cast iron cauldron, which had joined an inordinate number of items on the floating shelves. “Every time I come in here it seems like you have added something else. I don’t know how you keep finding room to add more stuff in this small space.”

  “Small spaces don’t stop no Ghanaian,” Rosina said. She placed the pot on the range and lit the stove. “We are resourceful people, we will find a way. Forget about my kitchen, we have more important issues to discuss.” Rosina removed two cups from the drying rack on the counter, setting them down.

  Efia took two tea bags from a jar on one of the shelves, placing one in each cup. She faced her mother. “News travels fast among the Ghanaian Community. When they find out I am no longer living at home, Dad will be embarrassed.”

  “People will always talk,” Rosina said. “You can’t live your life in fear of what others may say.”

  Efia thought of the many times her parents had told stories of children who had done something in contradiction of their parents’ wishes. While Efia had listened dutifully without commenting, she had often wondered why those parents couldn’t have seen their child’s decisions as a form of independence instead of disrespect.

  “You are right, Mom, but I hate that my name will now be added to the wayward list.”

  “Today, it’s your name. Tomorrow, someone else will replace you.”

  The water bubbled, and Rosina turned the burner off. Removing the pot from the stove, she poured water into the two cups.

  “Mom, why don’t you ever use the whistling kettle I bought you?”

  “The pot is fine.” Rosina put the red, enamel pot on the range. “It does the job.”

  Efia shook her head. Mom is almost as pigheaded as Dad. She reached for the sugar jar from the open shelf, passing it to her mother. Opening the refrigerator, she removed the milk. In silence, they made the tea to their liking before discarding the tea bags.

  “Let us sit in the dining area,” Rosina said.

  “Let me get another piece of Nkate.”

  A few minutes later, Rosina took the chair her husband had vacated. “Did I ever tell you that I wanted to be a nurse?”

  Efia sat erect. Where’s this coming from? “No, Mom, you never did.”

  “I loved school,” Rosina said. “I excelled in my studies. The headmistress saw my devotion, and she took me under her wings.” Rosina took a sip of tea. “I told her about my dreams of becoming a nurse. She jumped through hoops to get me a scholarship to study in England. Your grandfather said, ‘No.’”

  Efia arose. She hugged Rosina. “I’m sorry, Mom. I never knew.”

  Rosina wiped an errant tear from her cheek. “Sandra Atikpo, that was the headmistress’ name. I never forgot her. She pleaded with my father. She tried to show him what an honor it would have been to have a nurse in the family. She wanted to explain to him the good that I could have done in Ghana. She tried in vain, he wouldn’t budge.”

  Efia wiped her own tears.

  “It was a different time,” Rosina said. “Your father was raised to be the head of the household, and I was raised to support him. We both
have jobs. I am grateful.”

  “Mom, you’re still a young woman, why did you stop at just being a nurse’s aide. This is America, you can still complete your nursing degree.”

  “Life hasn’t been bad,” Rosina said. “We have built a beautiful home in Ghana. But you are right, perhaps, one day I will return to school.”

  It is a beautiful home, Efia thought of the four bedrooms concrete structure. Too bad we don’t live in it. “I am sorry your dreams got interrupted, Mom.”

  “Your father is an old-school person. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he is a good man. He is the only one I have known intimately, and I love him, but occasionally, I wonder what could have been.”

  “I don’t think I will get married.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Rosina said. “You will marry when the time is right. You are fortunate to live in a country that won’t frown on you if you are single. It is your call. Don’t let anyone take your choice away, you decide.”

  The thought of throwing her dreams away to be some man’s wife repulsed Efia. Pushing the notion away, she said, “Will I be able to see you when Dad banishes me?”

  “Don’t be stupid, child,” Rosina said, harshly. “You are my daughter. No one keeps me from my daughter.”

  “The contract is signed, so I have to go,” Efia said. “I hate bringing all this stress into your life, Mom. Maybe, I will be terrible at my job, and they will send me back.”

  “Don’t you dare think like that. You go and give that job your best effort.” Rosina lifted Efia’s chin. “Fly, Efia Kwateng. I want you to soar for you and for me. Don’t ever accept mediocrity and don’t you dare just settle for marriage.”

  Life isn’t fair, Efia thought. To gain, I must lose.

  Unable to inhale, Efia blew a sharp breath through her mouth as tears stained her cheeks. Rosina swiped Efia’s tears with her fingers, leaving her own to cascade down her face. Soon, snivels escalated into cries, as their sounds mingled and infiltrated the entire apartment of Unit #4C on 168th street, off the Grand Concourse.

  Chapter 5

  After an uneventful Saturday morning flight from Logan International Airport, to Exuma International Airport, Ace was seated on the lower deck of a glass bottom boat, making his way to Calico Cays Resort, the private resort tucked away amongst the chain of islands that make up the archipelago of the Bahamas.

  As the sun glinted upon the water, creating a variety of colors on the surface, the gentle swells of the sea propelled the small vessel forward. The tranquil setting forced Ace to shelve thoughts of work in favor of his surroundings. A sliver of a smile touched his lips.

  Even with the wounds of his heart still opened, and raw, he had to admit the day was a beautiful one. He shifted his eyes from the stretch of ocean, scanning the smiling faces of the people on board. A couple kissing caught his attention. Ace arose and went to the vessel’s stern.

  Thank God, this resort is for adults, he thought. I can barely tolerate couples, seeing parents chasing after kids would kill me.

  With Great Exuma now part of the backdrop, Ace took a seat in the back of the water taxi just as a stifled sound emanated from the surrounding speakers. The static cleared, and the following announcement came through: “This is Captain Fred, we will be at Calico Cays Resort in ten minutes.”

  Ace grabbed a brochure from a seat holder. “Can’t wait,” he muttered with a scowl. “All I want is a little peace and quiet.”

  He had warned Drew not to disclose to the staff that he was the owner of the resort. He didn’t want the extra attention he knew would come if anyone found out. Though he had no doubt, he would be treated to the best amenities and services possible. After all, the place was a top performer with the cheapest suite rented for one thousand dollars a night.

  Ace sighed. A couple days and I will be back in Massachusetts sitting behind my desk. He flipped the page of the brochure.

  His motto of hiring the best, giving them the tools they needed, and staying out of their hair had served him well—the pictures were dazzling.

  Building hotels and resorts were Drew’s domain. Although Ace hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day construction of the resort, he had received updates throughout the project. Ace remembered no expenses were spared to convert the barren island to the tropical paradise it now was.

  Ace flipped another page which featured bright, luxurious villas nestled amongst the tropical foliage, with swimming pools, spas, and waterfalls, and miles of a white, sandy beach. As he perused the brochure, the great house covered the entire center page. The white three-story building with plantation shutters housed the formal restaurants and entertainment spaces. A detailed map pointed to the many casual cabana-styled restaurants, activities center, and Calico Cays Resort’s offices.

  The boat slowed.

  Ace closed the brochure and slipped it back into the holder.

  “Welcome to Calico Cays Resort,” the captain announced. “Have a lovely stay, folks.”

  Ace looked out the windows, noticing the employees grouped by the colors of their uniforms on the pier beneath an enormous welcome sign. When the boat stopped, the smiling faces of the young workers came into full view. The enthusiasm on their faces reminded Ace of his early start in life as an errand boy in his father’s business.

  Work does the mind a world of good, he thought. If I didn’t have my enterprises to keep me occupied, I don’t know where I would be. The bustling sounds around Ace drew him away from his introspection. However, he made no attempt to join the other passengers who headed toward the exit.

  <>

  The afternoon sun beat down on the pier as Efia, and her co-workers gathered around one of the resort’s supervisors, Maria Rodriguez-Broomes.

  Dressed in a sleeveless sage colored sheath dress, a contrast to the workers casual Bermuda shorts, Maria said, “One final note, guys, sometimes guests can drink a little too much and get out of hand. If you are uncomfortable with any of the guests, please notify one of the supervisors.”

  Ashley nudged Efia. “Which villa do you have?”

  “The Fiesta Villa,” Efia said. “And you?”

  “The Promenade,” Ashley replied. “We are on opposite ends of the grounds. I have a male same-sex couple. Who do you have?”

  “I have an old guy, Mr. Davenport. They said he lost his wife. I have to be patient with him.”

  “They gave you the perfect assignment,” Ashley whispered. “You are the most patient person on the planet.”

  Efia chuckled while Maria advanced, greeting each guest as they disembark the vessel. Twenty minutes later, Maria, Efia, and two porters were the only ones standing on the pier.

  “Maybe Mr. Davenport missed his flight,” Efia said.

  “I don’t think so,” Maria replied. “I received a head count before the taxi left Great Exuma. He’s supposed to be on board. Let me speak to the captain.”

  Efia elbowed Maria and gestured with her chin to a tall, blond guy, standing near the doorway.

  “Come,” Maria said, moving forward.

  “Mr. Davenport?” Maria said.

  “Yes,” Ace said, stepping onto the dock. “And I take it you are Ms. Rodriguez-Broomes.”

  “Yes, I am,” Maria said, extending her hand. “I am glad you are here, Mr. Davenport. Welcome to Calico Cays Resort.”

  Ace clasped Maria’s hand. “Thank you. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Maria said.

  Ace released Maria’s hand.

  “Maria reached for Efia’s elbow. “This is Efia Kwateng, she’ll be your Guest Service Associate during your stay.”

  Efia extended her hand and simultaneously craned her neck back, gazing into Ace’s face. The red mark beneath his right eye was the first thing she noticed, next came his eyes. At that moment, Efia couldn’t decide whether they were the same shade as the Caribbean Ocean or the cloudless sky above. Remembering her father’s instructions to always look a person in their eyes and give them a firm handshake, Efia g
rasped Ace’s hand.

  Ace winced but quickly smiled.

  He seemed surprised. Efia thought. Maybe I put too much power into that handshake.

  “Take his luggage to the Fiesta Villa,” Maria said to the two bellhops.

  “I only have one-piece of luggage,” Ace said. “I won’t be staying too long.”

  As one of the bellhops went down to the cabin, Maria turned to Ace. “Efia will show you to your villa. Your luggage will be along shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Ace said.

  “This way, Mr. Davenport,” Efia said.

  “Call me Ace.”

  Efia stopped walking and faced Ace. “And you can call me, Efia.”

  Ace nodded.

  As Efia led the way, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man who was behind her. Ace Davenport wasn’t the elderly man she had assumed him to be, he was a looker. A little sad, but that was expected. He’s not going to be single for very long, someone will surely snatch him up.

  Chapter 6

  She damn near broke my fingers, Ace thought as he flexed his wrist. Glancing at Efia he shook his head, she had caught him off guard, something he never allowed in his line of business.

  “We are here,” Efia said, breaking into Ace’s thoughts. “After you.”

  “Thank you.” Ace entered the villa. He placed his bag on the chair and faced Efia.

  “Here you go,” Efia said, handing Ace two sets of card keys for the door and an iPad. “You will find all the activities and amenities the resort offers, and my contact information listed there. You can message me anytime.”

  Ace took the card keys and the device, placing them on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Excuse me, “Efia said before ushering the bellhop in.

  Within minutes, Ace’s luggage was in the bedroom, and the attendant was gone.

  “Someone will be in to put away your clothes,” Efia said.

  “That won’t be necessary, Efia.”

  Efia blinked. “Would you like anything before I go?”

  Ace’s eyes swept the indoor-outdoor living space. He pointed to the iPad. “There’s information about room service on there, right?”