Matilda Garcia is married to one of the most established lawyers and land owners in Trinidad, and she cannot be more happier. Until, an object from her past suddenly appears in her life which leads to solve the mystery of her dead daughter, and circ...
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The rest of the day consisted of me eating and sleeping and occasionally glancing at Anna's diary. So when the next morning came, I was well rested. Now I was in the kitchen bugging the life out of a certain dark skinned chef. The bubbling sound of water in a pot served as comforting music as I played with his short curly hair.
Bruce let out a groan of annoyance, and allowed me to continue running my hand through his hair. His fingers knocked quite awkwardly against the marble countertop at some form of rhythm. He looked like he wanted to say something, but choose to keep it to himself. Good. He knew better than to get in my way when I was restless. Then I purposely pulled a bit too hard on a hair strand near his hairline. He grunted an "Ow" and angrily slapped my hand off his head. He turned around to face me.
"You know what?" he started with genuine irritation. His voice quivered with each word. At first I considered feeling sorry for him, but then I remembered yesterday when he kicked me out of the kitchen and made me wait too long for my breakfast afterwards. This was only suitable payback. I waited for him to continue, and surely enough he did.
"Get outta my kitchen," he added.
Bruce was a black man, so imagine my surprise when his face became as red as a tomato. His red face made me get the memo about leaving him alone. So I turned on my heels and headed to the glass door. However, before I took my leave, he stopped me.
"Mrs Garcia," he called, "your daughters are coming home from their gran'pa this afternoon. Want me to prepare somethin' for them?" I gasped. I was so absorbed in Anna's diary entries that I completely forgot about my other daughters. What kind of a mother was I? Without turning to answer him, I replied, "Yeah, how about some curried goat?"
He nodded in approval. I took that as a sign to take my leave. I opened the door, but before I stepped outside, I glanced back at him.
"Thanks Bruce," I said, and with that I left the kitchen.
It was now 3pm of that day. I was currently standing a few feet from the mansion's main entrance. This was the time that I was told that my daughters would arrive. My hands were clasped together in anticipation. They had been gone for two days (which was probably the longest two days of my life) and my heart now ached to see them. My friend, Ariel, joined me after a while. It was only yesterday when she returned from her leave, so she didn't know that the girls were staying at their grandfather's house. We engaged in conversation while we waited.
Sooner than later, a car pulled up at the estate gate. From where I was standing I could see the security guard talking to the driver. After some time passed, he opened the gate and allowed the car to drive through.
Ariel and I looked at each other. We were well aware of who was in that car, and we were trying so hard to contain our excitement. The car stopped at our feet. A wide grin crept onto my face. I didn't dare wipe it off. The driver slipped out of the car and opened the back door. A pale skinned little girl hopped out, not evengiving him a chance to hold her hand. He shook his head and helped the other girl, the one who inherited my golden skin, out of the car. She smiled at him politely.
