His Helper

5

After dropping the kids off at school, I headed back home, eager to catch Sandra before she set off for work. My morning was a rollercoaster of emotions, a mix of excitement and anticipation. Concealing my enthusiasm was a challenge because, despite my eagerness, unanswered questions lingered, and Sandra held the key.

As I marveled at the sleek C-class Mercedes Benz I was driving, it became evident that their father was a man of means. The car radiated opulence with its immaculate shine and plush leather seats, leaving me in awe.

I hurried through the house from the garage, passing the kitchen, and called out to Sandra as I traversed the hallway. Armed with my gate keys, I reached her in the midst of her makeup routine. "Cango lwesibini," she responded, directing me to the second bedroom.

Amidst her finishing touches, I shared the revelation, "You know those adorable kids I mentioned? I just dropped them off at school. Turns out, they're your relatives."

Sandra, wiping her hands, admitted, "I had no clue you were referring to them. And yes, their grandfather is my uncle, though he's my mother's older brother."

Baffled, I responded, "I really didn't see this coming." She swiftly changed into her suit, explaining the urgency, "I need your help with Nelisa. I didn't have time to bathe him; he has to be at the nursery by eight, and you'll pick him up at one. They prepare lunch there."

As Sandra rushed to leave, I proceeded to wake up Nelisa, who initially thought I was part of his dream. His pleas not to leave him were met with laughter. "Hi Unako is here," I reassured, and he jumped into my arms, tearfully begging, "Pease not go, peace nanako." With a comforting hug, I said, "We better get you ready, big guy, before we're late for school."

Strolling back from the nursery, a soulful tune echoed from my phone, "Andikhathali nobindlela, inameva uba uJesu esecaleni kwam ngubani onokimelana nam." It didn't matter who attempted to hinder my path; the Lord would shield me from harm. No weapon aimed at me could succeed; I held firm in the belief that He had grand plans for my life.

While the job might not have been my ideal, the joy shared with those kids painted a smile on my face. It dawned on me that the Lord is not distant; He hears our prayers, and His presence is ever near.

Upon reaching the house, a resonant prayer filled the air from my phone. I began by tidying up Nelisa's room and proceeded to Akhanani's. Although tempted, I refrained from entering Liyema's room, choosing to respect his privacy. Sandra checked in on me, questioning my cleaning spree. "You don't have to clean; you're here to drive, not tidy up. The kids will handle their rooms after school, and I'll take care of mine and Nelisa's," she advised.

Ignoring her suggestion, I replied, "I can't just sit around. I wanted to do something. I'll clean your room and then take a break." True to my word, after completing the task, I picked up toys in the living room and ascended the stairs to the kids' bedrooms on the second floor.

Sandra had shared insights into the house's layout - two guest bedrooms on the second floor and the master bedroom downstairs, meant for their father. Another bedroom, designated for the nanny, intrigued me. The kitchen, modern and spacious, boasted a large island. The dining area with expansive windows overlooked the backyard with a gas fireplace. The living room, adorned with light grey sectional couches, a wall-mounted TV, and exquisite furniture, exuded opulence.

Amidst my exploration, I resisted the urge to open an unknown door, leaving it shrouded in mystery. After making myself a sandwich and admiring their dreamy kitchen, close to one o'clock, just before heading out to fetch Nelisa, Mr. Makinana unexpectedly called, marking the first time he initiated contact since our initial conversation.

"Hello," I answered, unaware it was Mr. Makinana, as I picked up the Johannesburg line. "Ms. Bathini, I wanted to check on you; my cousin mentioned that you are in the house," he explained. Questions raced through my mind, pondering if I was supposed to be in the house without supervision.

"Yes, sir," I replied, my voice trembling in the presence of his intimidating tone. He continued, "Okay, is it okay if I ask you to make a meal for the children when they come from school? The nanny is supposed to be back soon."

Realising he needed a favour, I agreed, "Okay, sir." The call concluded after he provided instructions, and I sensed his discomfort in asking for assistance. It was evident he wasn't accustomed to seeking favours. As soon as he said goodbye, I took a deep sigh, absorbing the unexpected turn of events.

I strolled to the nursery school to collect a napping Nelisa. Carrying him home proved challenging; I wished I had a towel to prevent him from slipping on my back, especially with his backpack adding to the weight. Upon reaching home, I settled him on the couch instead of carrying him upstairs.

Heading to the kitchen, I opted for a quick pasta with sauce, wanting to whip up something fast and familiar. As it simmered on the stove, I made a mental note to inquire about the kids' preferences from Sandra, ensuring my future meals would suit their tastes.

Examining the pantry revealed a limited supply of food - mostly noodles, maize meal, rice, and samp. The refrigerator echoed the simplicity, with loaves of bread taking center stage, presumably for lunch. I prepared a cup of tea before joining Nelisa on the couch.

Switching on the television, I discovered a state-of-the-art smart TV with features like YouTube, a stark contrast to our home's basic plasma. Realizing they had a Wi-Fi router, I marveled at the possibilities, gawking at the screen without a clear idea of what to watch. Eventually, I set up alarms for each time I needed to pick up the kids, ensuring punctuality, and giving myself a buffer of ten minutes before the scheduled time.

Engrossed in watching "Love Comes Softly," a Western movie on YouTube, I found myself drawn into the storyline. The narrative unfolded about a woman losing her husband shortly after marriage and marrying a stranger, a widower seeking a mother for his daughter. The promise of sending her back home the next year added a layer of complexity.

Although I couldn't finish the movie due to the impending task of picking up the kids, it left me with valuable insights. As someone who often wrote romance novels, I realized that love is a gradual process. It involves liking, courting, falling in love, and navigating challenges. It wasn't just an instantaneous emotion; it required time and experience to fully comprehend.

Moved by the emotional beginning of the movie, I found tears streaming down my face. Attempting to conceal my own grief, I realized it was a struggle, and I decided to wash my face before leaving. Hoping to hide my puffy, red eyes from the kids, I returned to find Nelisa awake and engrossed in playing with his toys.

As we drove to pick up the others, I tried to compose myself, hoping the traces of my earlier emotions would go unnoticed.