MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter fifty five

Directly after Gabriel washed up and dressed into a white shirt and grey trousers, he resigned to his study to elucubrate the cases he had put on hold due to his travel to Charleston-which he'd originally planned to be two weeks but was unfortunately extended to three months. Well not so unfortunate as it had provided him enough knowledge of the woman he loved: Iyila.

But his frown wouldn't disappear, there were so many cases to attend to, as well as new ones neatly placed in his drawer. Before an hour passed he was already in a state of flummox. He couldn't decide which to begin with. Whether the ones he had postponed or the new ones that he hadn't touched, but equally important. He worried about his clients and what must have transpired during his three month absence. Frustrated he scanned the files, he saw that some of the letters were dating back to June, and most of which sounded very urgently.

He was bothered about how his clients might perceive him. Perhaps they thought him inconsiderate and selfish, or deliberately unconcerned about their predicaments. Sighing with frustration, he reached for the bottle of liquor at the edge of the table, he was about to pour the liquor into a glass when he heard a double knock on the door. "Sah!" Abigail's sharp voice streamed in. "May ha come in?" she asked. Pouring the drink into the glass he called her in. The door then creaked opened. Abigail swept in holding some papers that he believed to be his letters. "Yo letters sah," she quietly said and dropped the letters on the table.

He gulped down the first glass then immediately poured another, and did same before he picked up the letters. "Did anyone visit while I was away?"

"Yes sah," she said and reached into her pocket, "Ha hav' der names here, Malachi 'elp me write 'em," Abigail said, proud of her son's accomplishments - his fine ability to read, write, and fluently speak English - as she handed him the piece of paper. Gabriel took the paper, a weak smile began to tug at the corner of his lips as he looked at the young child's rough handwriting and misspelt names which he tried to recognize. Not even his sore mood could stop him from smiling. But it vanished immediately when he saw the name of the last visitor which seemed like the very person he earnestly wished to avoid: Victoria Priestly. His eyes widened and his heart skipped a bit when he murmured the name.

"Victoria Priestly visited!" he frantically said. "Dah woman," Abigail scoffed, "she come al demanding ter see ya, buh ha tol her dah ya aint coming anytime soon 'cause ya hav gone to marry miss Anne."

"Did she in any instance mention her reason for the visit?"

Abigail scoffed again, she never liked the woman. "No dah woman won' tel, she's jus' demand ter see ya, das all," Frustrated, Gabriel raked his hair, wondering why the lassie had visited. The very raunchy, headstrong, conniving-cheeky Victoria Priestly.

She had been his best lover and her romancing skills, at one point in his life, had been his addiction. He had spent most of his nights in her bedroom, drinking wine and relieving his urges. But he had severed all ties with her and paid her dearly for all her services before travelling to Charleston to marry Anne. Now he couldn't hide his fear for her visit. She was always mischievous, always fabricating tales.

What if she was pregnant for him! he thought. She had made him drunk once and even till now he couldn't remember much of that night. He began to panic, what would he do if she was truly pregnant for him!

He was just some days from bringing Iyila to Illinois and this...he groaned, would indeed ruin his life. Victoria was desperate and never ceased to confess her love for him. "Her letter is there sah," Abigail chipped in. "Oh that's good," his eyes beamed as he looked for her letter. He finally saw her name in slanting writing. Taking a deep breath he slowly opened the letter, praying in his heart that the wench, though beautiful, was not with his child.