His Wet Nurse

Jemaa's return (28)

Jemaa hasn't felt this relieved in a long time. There was much to be happy and grateful for. That she was safe home with baby Sam, that her back didn't ache or sting anymore, and that she could once more taste the sumptuous meals prepared by Martha.

Sweet, belly-rumbling scents filled her nostrils as she made it into the dining room the next morning. She'd arrived back at the mansion the previous evening and was too occupied with adjusting baby Sam back to his usual routine to take in what she'd missed about the mansion.

So today, as excited as she was for returning home, the smell of Martha's breakfast sent shivers of nostalgia and relief down her spine.

"My belly hurts from missing your delicious delicacies, Martha," Jemaa called from the entrance, snapping the lady in an apron back to reality. She'd been so engulfed with setting the table with food that she didn't realize someone had stepped in.

"Heavens! Jemaa," she cried and immediately ran to embrace her in a warmth-filled hug. "You look skinnier than when you left. Have they no chef back there?" Martha queried, her eyes roaming the form of Jemaa who stood watching her with a smile.

"I made my food, it wasn't bad but nothing like yours. Gawd I've missed yours." Inhaling the delicious smell and letting her legs lead her towards the table full of assorted food.

"I'm glad you're back, and missing my cooking. The master had specifically requested I prepare a table of nice meals for you from today henceforth." Her eyes glinted with pleasure. "No longer eating like a beggar under Madame Evana's instructions." She said in a hushed tone, a bit of mockery on her lips. Jema stood abashed by the words she'd spoken.

Theodore Newman wanted to make sure she was properly fed in his home. How preposterous that sounded. A tug of relief and confidence wove in her chest as she chewed mercilessly at each food she had her hands on. Knowing that in some way, saving baby Sam had bought her the favor of the man she'd so feared.

"I would've loved to sit and eat with you but I have to serve the master before eight thirty." Her head tilted to the grandfather clock on the wall. It was a few minutes too. "He's not the most patient man you know, and since the gardener quit I took it upon myself to tend to the precious roses outside. Can't have them dying for lack of care."

"Fiona quit?" Jemaa exclaimed with half-eaten bread in her hand. "Why?"

"Beats me, I mean the girl was always a tad foolish but I didn't think anyone in her position would leave such a job for nothing." Martha sighed, it felt like she had a little bit of resentment towards Fiona and a lovely soul like Martha hardly disliked people.

"I see," Jemaa responded. "Don't worry about the food, I'll serve the master while you go on about your business."

"Really?" A look of doubt spread across her chubby face. "Are you sure of that? The master might not be so happy if you were late. And you have to eat your food."

Jemaa stood, dusting her hands as a sign that she was done with her meal. "I'm just about done," she smiled. "Now, what and what am I serving his royal highness?"

Martha cackled gaily and took her time explaining how to serve Theodore Newman breakfast. Jemaa couldn't believe the process when Martha was done, the man was worse than his son when it came to demands. There was a pattern when making his coffee, it had to be mixed with other healthy dry leaves before precipitating. He didn't like his teacup by his right-hand side, questions shouldn't be asked in order not to distract his early morning newspaper reading. Jemaa rolled her eyes severally as Martha recounted an endless list of don'ts knowing fully well she wasn't about to abide by all of them.

When she arrived at his exquisite dining room with the trolley, Jema found him seated at the head of the table lost in the newspaper.
She cleared her throat, purposely ignoring the first rule. The newspaper snapped shut and his reprimanding eyes fell on her only to melt into that of surprise.

"Jemaa," his morning voice rumbled through the space. He sat up and watched her approach cautiously and began preparing his coffee just as he liked it.

"I know you're surprised to see me but I wanted to come here personally and thank you for everything."

He scoffed, his chest jerking beneath the flimsy black material he wore. "Everything? I should be the one thanking you for saving my son. Your bravery and wisdom are commendable, I would've sent for you in my office but since you're here..." he met her gaze, the words stuck on his lips as he watched her pour his coffee and stir gently to perfection. He took the cup and sipped from it. Thick dark lashes blended together, casting a shadow of fierceness on his handsome face. He savored the taste of black coffee as it relaxed every tense muscle in him.

He cleared his throat and said, "Since you're here, I'll go straight to the point." The bottom of the china cup made contact with the table, sending Jemaa into action. It was time for the rest of his meal, once he was done getting his first sip of coffee. "As a show of appreciation to you, I'll be doubling your salary,"

She swung around to face him, with the teapot in her hands hanging in the air "You don't have to do that," she shook her head. "I'm not doing this for money, rather it's more out of love for your son. I can't accept your offer."

"You can't?"

"Yes, I can't. Baby Sam means more to me than I can understand even," she laughed, a brief huffing kind. "But you could do something for me instead."

The engines in his brain suddenly whirled back to reset mode, he'd almost believed she didn't want anything in return but just like everyone else she'd waited for the best moment to throw in her request.

"What would that be?"

Jemaa nervously wiped her palms on her jeans, unsure how to present her request. "I need your help with a personal issue. My f-fiancé was found dead in a river a few weeks ago and nobody, not even the police has done anything about it." She heard his disapproval from the way his eyes darkened at her request. She knew it was wrong of her to put it out there, to ask the man for such difficult requests especially when it involved Jacob. Her fear mostly was that he might discover what Jacob truly meant to her, he wasn't just her fiancé. But Jema had slept over the thought for a while now and there was no need to keep to herself when she had the backing of one the most powerful and influential men in the country. She hoped that as she'd gained his confidence, he might consider helping her cause.

"I know it's too much to ask but it's the reason why I went home unannounced. I couldn't bear that the News wasn't saying anything about his death, not even the police. His office..." She choked on the words when her emotions seemed to heighten. "His office had dismissed his case because he was working as a secret agent for the USSS and therefore has no identity. But I know my husband__" her mouth hung open at the slip of tongue. "—I mean my fiancé, he isn't a bad person, he might've kept that part away from me which I understand but his death shouldn't be rolled under the carpet like some criminal's death. He's not a criminal and surely didn't deserve such a cruel death." Hot tears rushed down her cheeks, Jema gave her back to him, embarrassed that he'd watched her cry. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for spoiling your breakfast time." She apologized as she attempted to wipe off her tears. But more followed, her heart jackhammered as the truth came to life. "I shouldn't be bawling my eyes out in your presence, gawd I'm such a klutz," she muttered her wet lashes staining her now-dried skin.

She finally found the courage to face him, her eyes red from crying, lips tight, and a forlorn look on her face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laid it all out on you. I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast."

"Wait," Theodore called when she made to leave. And just to be sure, just to put a nail through his fears he asked. "Your fiancé, what's his name?"

"J-Jacob, Jacob Delray."

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