In Covenant with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  “So, have you been enjoying yourself in Kamigu, Lex?”

  I liked that he called me Lex instead of by my formal name like Ezra did. I still didn’t understand why he’d been so insistent on that since meeting me months ago.

  “For sure.” I reached over the table for my glass, and as I sat back in my seat, I caught Ezra’s eyes and snickered. Something about his concentrated expression tickled me.

  “Good. I know my pet here has taken good care of you; she adores Ezra.” He smiled suggestively and it was Natalia’s turn to giggle. My enquiring scowl landed on Ezra. “I had to remind her that he’s with wife now and doesn’t need her as much.” Jarabu’s expression didn’t weaken. There was something between those two…or three? Before I could formulate a way to probe, he continued with, “I hear you enjoyed The Bali Theater. I’m glad.”

  “Thanks for those tickets and backstage passes,” Ezra ignored me, smiling with grace as he drained his punch.

  “Oh!” Natalia leaped to her feet, prepared to leave the table. She uttered something in Indonesian and gestured to Ezra’s empty glass. Was she going to refill it?

  Where the hell is the staff?

  Simultaneously, Ezra and Jarabu stopped her, dismissing her notion. With a moue, more of confusion, she sat back down underneath him like the trained pet he referred to her as.

  “We’re going to say goodnight. I haven’t rested since my return. Lex, please forgive me,” Jarabu spoke regrettably. “I hope we can spend more time together tomorrow, and you can meet my mother. Ezra said you were preoccupied when he checked on her earlier, just after our arrival. She would not have had it any other way.” He chuckled before regarding his wife, and I assumed, telling her it was time to go as he tapped a collar I noticed she wore each time I saw her, at least.

  She stood compliantly, waved softly to me and did some brief curtsy to Ezra. We watched in silence as they walked off. Jarabu held Natalia at the back of her neck as though he was guiding her. The moment they were at a good enough distance, I shuffled to my side to face Ezra.

  “What the hell is up with her?”

  “Mouth, Alexis,” he grated, voice controlled with warning.

  “That’s not an answer. She’s been fawning over you since we got here and her hubby, Lil’ Tattoo, seems very aware and encouraging of her crush on you.” I didn’t raise my voice, though quiet anger coursed my veins.

  Plus, I was nice and tipsy, a scary combination.

  “Natalia and women of her kind are from a different culture and in total contrast to the American feminine mentality.”

  “What the fuc—” I caught myself, squeezing my eyes closed and literally biting my lips, I slowed. “What does that mean, Ezra?”

  “Thanks for that regrouping.” He correctly recognized. “What that means in a nut shell is that women like Natalia are groomed to cater to the needs of her man. There are no independent wills or agendas. She anticipates and meets his need, often without him uttering instruction. She’s poised to support him.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Every man wants a degree of that. I don’t desire the dependency she carries; I prefer a sliver sass,” he susurrated seductively as he swiped my bottom lip with his thumb.

  “So what’s her fascination with you?”

  His eyes diverted out into the water. “Servitude for dominate men is all she knows. She recognizes it in me and yields to it.”

  I didn’t get what that meant so decided to move past it.

  “You never answered my question. Is that what you want?”

  He shifted on the bench to face me. “What I want is your submission to me. Total and complete yielding.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t completely trust me. Although I’ve been a man of my word—gave you the wedding dreams are made of, paid off your debt, opened my home to you and started showing you the world by bringing you here, you’re still preoccupied with how to measure up or contribute as though we have to equally give. The lifestyle I want to provide you is one where you don’t have to be overwhelmed with your next meal or paying your next bill. I don’t want you to have to be concerned with what’s coming next. Just let me decide and take care of you. As I’ve said before: Alexis looks out for everyone, now let someone look out for Alexis.”

  “I can’t do that,” I jumped to my own defense immediately, then I thought to soften. His proposal was heady. “Even if I wanted to, I’m not built to depend on someone else or not to think about my next move. I was born to hustle and have done it well all these years without anyone.”

  “But you’re a woman of faith.” That was an accusatory statement.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Okay, and the Bible tells us in Matthew, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?”” he quoted with sophisticated comfort, convincingly. He continued, ““Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Beloved, I am by no means a rich man no matter how well-heeled my lifestyle may appear, but I can take care of you in a fashion where you don’t have to worry while seeking new employment. Your fear of submitting…to totally opening your trust to me carries itself into other areas of our relationship.”

  I felt my face harden in disbelief. “Like where?”

  “In sex.” I sucked in a heaping breath. What the hell was wrong with that? Though it intimidated me no less, that was one part of Ezra that thrilled me beyond my expectations. “You claim to enjoy me, but you could enjoy so much more if you’d just submit to me, completely. If you could just let go and believe when I say I can show you pleasure that you never knew existed. It isn’t that difficult a task, beloved. Christians do it every day.” There was an earnest gleam in his eyes, pleading for my acceptance.

  I turned my sights to the rumbling water that was far more interesting to give my attention to than the gibberish Ezra was now talking. I shut down on him. There was no way he could ask me to trust him beyond what I had. I married him five months after laying eyes on him. What more could he ask? And then to insinuate I wasn’t a true believer with that scripture reference. That cut a bit. I may not have been a devout church-goer, but I was a believer.

  Ezra stood and held his hand for me to take. I wanted to decline and tell him I’d be fine alone, but that would just feed his assumptions of my lack of trust in him. So, I stood with him and traveled quietly to our villa. What I questioned all the way to bed was how could a conversation that started at what the fuck is up with you and that Natalia chick turn into an illumination of my lack of faith.

  The next morning, like all in the two weeks we’d been in Kamigu, Ezra was out before I was up for the day. I woke up to a late start, starved and preoccupied, still thinking about our fight. Still without answers about Natalia, I now wondered if he strategically brushed me off. I quickly dressed, grabbed my laptop and took off to the main restaurant for breakfast.

  When I arrived, a new waitress took my order and I checked my email for application responses. I was so engrossed, I glanced up and my food was laid out on the table. Peach pancakes, fried eggs, and sausages would be forever my favorite breakfast combo from here on out. I inhaled the buttermilk flapjacks. This place was wonderful; the food, people and culture. I learned just how small Harlem was in two short weeks. My gratitude for Ezra bringing me overflowed and I would have to figure out how to verbalize it.

  I caught a shadow in my peripheral as I finished swiping the last of the eggs smeared in maple syrup. It was Yanti.

  “Aye, it’s my bad bitch! My bad bitch!” I chanted with a stuffed mouth and arms in the air.

  She didn’t give me the infectious smile or the attempt at the Nae-Nae that I’d come to expect with that greeting. It had become our ritual. Yanti dropped herself on the seat across from me with a lon
g pouty face and a chin that nearly reached her chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Now, I was worried.

  “You leave tomorrow and I loathe the incoming son of a sheik from Abu Dhabi with his snobbish wife.” Her arms were crossed like a child at her chest.

  “Really?” I had no idea what a sheik was, but Abu Dhabi rang a bell. “Why?”

  “Because he’s a…” she considered her next word. “…perv. Doesn’t know how to keep his hands off of other women, and his eyes are even worse.”

  “I can’t see Jarabu going for that.” He was nice and all, but couldn’t stay in business with staff disgruntled from being fondled.

  “He was warned. He’s on his last strike. Anyway,” she sat up, shaking her head. “There is a new guest coming from Canada.” Yanti smiled brightly at the prospect. “Maybe they’ll be cool like you.”

  “So, there will be two guests here? I thought this island was exclusive.”

  At least that’s what Ezra told me and what I’d seen in the past two weeks. Some of the island was so private I could tramp around naked. I did so one day when Ezra hid my clothes after I fell out near the pool from a good fuck. I woke up to a smiling husband and no bikini under my lounge chair where it landed after being torn off of me. I literally walked naked back to the villa.

  “Only to some guests…high paying guests.”

  Hmmmm…

  “Well, let’s hope they’re able to handle all your coolness.” I closed my laptop. “Wanna go for a walk with me? I need to take a few flicks before I go.”

  “Sure!” Yanti leaped to her feet, clearing the table. “Let me put these away. Be right back.”

  Just like on my first day, Yanti took me around the island where I took copious pictures from a camera Ezra gave me once we arrived here. I was able to capture the villagers, the beach, restaurants, recreation room and even managed about a dozen ‘usies’ with Yanti. We parted ways so she could get back to work.

  I decided to start packing when I made it back to the villa. Based on the wet shower walls and the organization of the toiletries in the bathroom, I could tell Ezra had been in for a shower since I grabbed the camera earlier and wondered what he was up to. Maybe he was saying his goodbyes, too. As I pulled clothes from the drawers, I reflected on how much this place must mean to Ezra. I could see how much the people respected and admired him. The mornings I went to work out with him, he’d pray midway through and I had to explain that to at least two people trying to approach him in the wooded area amongst various types of trees, shrubs, and coastal sediment. You would think he would be guaranteed privacy there.

  Why was he so respected here? What did they know about this man? So many questions multiplied in my mind until I packed the last of what I could. Sleepiness fell upon me quickly. Why I was so exhausted, I didn’t know, but I kicked off my flip flops and curled into the bed surprisingly saddened by the fact it would be my last nap there.

  “I want to take a dip in the pool. It would be nice if you joined me on our last day here.”

  Those familiar subterranean deep vocals roused me. When my eyes opened, I was met with his face centimeters away, his nose swiping mine affectionately. Immediately, all of my senses were assaulted by his heady presence: his delicious masculine scent, handsome face, and arousing touch as he nipped my bottom lip. My clit throbbed violently below and suddenly my breasts felt heavy. Dazed from being awakened by his unexpected presence, I shook my head agreeing.

  After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash up, Ezra and I strolled slowly over to the pool hut, pacing unhurried.

  “Do I need to apologize?” he asked with amused eyes underneath his baseball cap.

  Ezra looked delectable with a full beard and thick mustache, almost hiding his talented lips.

  “For what?”

  Ezra shrugged. “Anything. I know our conversation last night turned heated.”

  “I’m fine, Ezra.” I decided to lie. I didn’t want to rehash that discussion. I wanted to pretend it never happened and enjoy the gorgeous sanded walkways aligned by exotic trees and the sounds of swishing water over light music being played from speakers mounted sparsely in trees. “What were you up to today?”

  I saw when his brows hiked and caught my attempt at changing the subject.

  “After my run, I caught up with Jarabu, chatted in his home for a while. I came back to the villa and showered, then I visited his mother. She wants to meet you. I didn’t send for you because she came down with a fever this morning. I told her if it broke, I’d bring you by after dinner since we’re leaving so early in the morning.”

  “So, she’s sick?”

  “Yes. Jarabu has been with her at a hospital in Bali all this time. She was admitted two days before we flew in.”

  Was she dying?

  “How old is she?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Widya could be in her sixties. Not too old.”

  “What has her so sick?”

  “She hasn’t had an official diagnosis. She suffers from migraines and inflammation. It’s been happening for some time now. I recall her struggling with pain the last time I was here.”

  “She seems to be taken by you, too.” I nudged him in the shoulder teasingly. I would not be jealous of a sixty-year-old woman.

  Ezra didn’t respond, though I knew he wasn’t offended.

  “She, too, refuses to submit,” he murmured.

  “Huhn?”

  That word caught my attention. What the fuck does that mean and what makes him the authority on the subject?

  “I told her on my last visit that God was calling her to submit to Him, for service. She refused to believe. I told her the reason she doesn’t have a diagnosis is because she refused to acknowledge His omnipotence. She’s consulted several doctors—the finest around—and none have been able to provide specific answers. I prayed with her yesterday and continued today as I spoke to her about giving her life to Christ. Some people God pushes harder than others. Apparently He wants Widya badly.”

  “Whoa!”

  That was some scary shit. Some hocus-pocus shit.

  But, eerily, I believed Ezra. His words were always that compelling. That rasp in his tenor captured your attention and held it until he was able to convince you of his agenda.

  I had lots of questions about his theory, like what does God want with us specifically? What did it benefit us to submit? And why would he marry a woman who didn’t share his level of belief. But I was too afraid to open that can of worms and expose my ignorance. Another reason you don’t up and marry a man in five months of knowing him. You will soon learn just how inadequate a partner you are to him, especially a damn minister.

  “Submission for us all is a huge fact—”

  His words were cut short by a shriek of discovery, followed by a stark cry. I may not have understood the language, but perceptively recognized the wailing.

  I turned around to Yanti jogging toward us visibly upset.

  “Mr. Carmichael! Come! Widya isn’t breathing.” Then she went to speaking in her native tongue.

  In front of us, Natalia and another woman, whose name I couldn’t recall, but had seen around, trailed behind her as she ran toward us. Natalia immediately began in her language hardly coherent from crying.

  Ezra responded to them both then turned to me, the deep v between his eye prominent from concern. “An emergency with Widya, beloved. I need to head over there.”

  He took off running. I stood wondering what was going on and what the hell could Ezra do to help. Natalia and the other woman followed behind Ezra.

  “Come, Lex!” Yanti took me at the arm, yanking me in the direction everyone else was headed.

  Not knowing what else to do, I followed. The farther we ran more people joined the trail. It was as if all the island was headed to the same place. And they were. We stopped at a modest size villa on the far opposite side of the King’s Hut, away from the commercial portion of the resort. By the size of it I could tell it was an older model,
even had shrubs growing on the bamboo that lay against aluminum. There were dozens of emotionally stricken villagers standing outside crying or comforting someone who was. What was going on?

  “Up here, Lex!” Yanti tugged me again, prompting me to a ladder across the small pavement.

  We climbed it, Yanti ahead of me. I stopped when I caught a glimpse of a familiar sinewy back clad in a grey short-sleeve shirt threading the people to get inside. Then he disappeared.

  “Whose hut is that?” I asked Yanti.

  “Widya. She’s Jarabu’s mother, the…how do you say…matriarch of the island?” As she spoke, Yanti kept her sad eyes glued to the house.

  Then I heard Ezra’s raspy tenor seemingly giving a directive, but couldn’t decipher what. Seconds later, the windows began to open all at once.

  Yanti mumbled something over me.

  “Come again,” I inquired.

  Again, she didn’t regard me when she answered, “He told them to open all the doors and windows.”

  I could now see a woman lying stock still in bed. Her eyes were closed and jaw slack. Then a few men, including Jarabu, came out carrying statues and plants, weaving through the crowd of curious people. They threw them into barrels on the side of the hut.

  “What are they doing?” Where was Ezra?

  “I don’t know,” she murmured.

  When my eyes returned to the house, I saw him. He sat on the side of her bed and appeared to be talking to her by the movement of his beard. She didn’t move, didn’t reciprocate at all. Ezra shifted his baseball cap to the back like he had done earlier with me and I saw his thick brows bunched and could tell he began praying. As he did, he gently tapped her arms, shoulders and head. She remained immobile on the bed. He then bent closer, cupped her face and whispered something in her ear. I could hear sound, but it wasn’t clear enough for me to make out words. This went on for minutes long and I began to worry about his proximity. He was close, yet not inappropriate. Jarabu drew close and placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, his head bowed in a tearful prayer. The doctor of the village, whom Ezra introduced me to last week fell to his knees and laid face down to the floor. His prayerful wails were palpable.