A Not So Merry Christmas

Chapter Four

Xander, who'd been observing Samantha interact with her sons, rose, cleaned his hands with his towel, and strode to her.

'Good afternoon, ma'am.'

Samantha turned an irritated glance at him. It was then she took in his features. He was a coffee-coloured-skinned man with round brown eyes. He had short black curls that were secured with a black and white bandana. She glanced down at his ash t-shirt that clung to a lean muscular structure and his faded jeans. He inserted his thumbs in his front pocket.

'Uhm,' Samantha started, caught between being polite or annoyed that he'd been playing with her kids. And the fact that she'd just checked him out.

Xander watched her watch him. She was the typical city lady in a blue straight-cut gown that did nothing to compliment her obvious physique. Her hair was held up with expensive pins, like someone who didn't have the time to do makeup but made it a duty to look presentable. But there was something in her intense gaze, not the obvious distrust, the tightening of her lips, the flaring of her nose, or the redness that coloured her light skin. He could overlook those. But he could not look past the sadness in her eyes. It tugged at him, demanded his attention, and had him staring longer than he should.

'Hey,' he quietly said. 'I'm Xander Idu.'

She nodded, turned, and walked off. Her snobbish attitude made him smile. She carried herself with so much grace, as though she was an arrogant princess who'd done a heavy task in associating with commoners.

'And you are?' he called after her.
She stopped, squared her shoulders, and walked back to him, taking his hand to his surprise.

'I'm Sam. Samantha.’ She paused. ‘Samantha Ali, and it's nice meeting you.' She frowned at his smiling face. It seemed to widen by every second, like he was having a personal joke at her expense. How he made her feel foolish by simply smiling. She wrenched her hand from his.

'You're Mrs Felicity's one and only daughter?'

Her brows furrowed. He talked like he knew her or had a close relationship with her mother. Samantha wouldn't blame him. The village was small and wholesome. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone was in everyone's business, most times in a good way. She wasn't surprised that her mother spoke about her, but with a stranger? Samantha was tempted to ask if he'd grown up in the village. Perhaps she knew him and may have forgotten, but she held her tongue. She did not want him to think she was interested in knowing him.

'She talks a lot about you. I'm your neighbour.' He pointed back at his house like it wasn't obvious. 'And an architect who specialises in interior architectural woodworking, but here I'm just the village carpenter in case you need anything.'

She nodded, knowing that she was being abrupt to someone who was nothing but polite to her.
Sighing, he said, 'See you around, Mrs Samantha.'

'You too Mister Idu.' She took a step away from him. It was better this way. She had travelled to her mother’s house for a reason, for change, to be away from Adam. After the incident, she packed and drove her kids to a hotel where they stayed for the night before returning to the village at dawn. Now, her life was taking a new beginning, and this time she was in control. She was no longer the feeble-minded Samantha she had been for twelve years. Adam's betrayal opened her eyes, and even if it felt rash to throw away his last name and the title it bore after her discovery, then she would change something else for a start.

'It's Ms,’ she said.

'Pardon?' Xander raised a brow.

'Ms Samantha.'

A smile played on his lips, and he nodded. With that, she stepped away from the wicket gate and headed to her compound. To her boys.

 'Mommy, mommy, mommy.'

'Son, son, son.' Samantha rolled her eyes, yet a smile formed on her lips when Shawn bounced up and down to be carried.

'Don't you think you're too grown to be babied?'

'You said we'll always be your babies.' Shawn triumphantly sighed and rested his head on her shoulders when she set him on her hips. She cleaned his wet hands with a towel and passed it to Louis. 'What are we having for dinner? I think our neighbour is cool. Do you hate him? He's the first adult to play with us except you. Adults think we're a nuisance. Mommy, when do we buy our Christmas clothes? We still get Christmas clothes, right? Will Santa drop by? I have a wish for him to fulfil, oh and Mom, what will you get us for Christmas?' He stared around the living room. 'When do we start decorating for Christmas?'

The numerous questions gave her whiplash. One would think she should've been used to it. Samantha chuckled and placed him on a stool.

'Which question do you want me to answer first?'

He pouted, tapped his cheek, and shrugged. 'All.'

'I seem to have forgotten all your questions,' she said.

Louis walked past them to the refrigerator, took out a bottle, and gulped.

'Maybe you'll remember this. When are we going home?' Louis asked.

'Baby.'

'Don't baby me. This isn't my home. I want to go back home!'

'Louis, please sit for a while,' Samantha pleaded. He reluctantly took a seat away from them.

'Your father and I are having some issues, and we thought it's best to take a break. This is your home for now until I find somewhere better.'

'What about our house in Enugu?'

'It's your house too, your father's house. Not mine.' She tried to touch him, but he flinched.

'What's that supposed to mean? You both aren't getting back together again?'

When Samantha struggled for words, he snapped.
'I knew it. It's a divorce. That's what they say in the movies.' He rose.

'Please calm down, honey.' She tried to comfort her furious ten-year-old to no avail.

'Why can't you both make things work? Dad pleaded with you. I overheard last night when you were speaking with him. It's all about you. What about us?' He shook his head.
Samantha was appalled that he heard their conversation, and also furious that his careless father didn't see the need to fix anything until he returned at night to find them gone.

'I hate you!' Louis spat and stormed off. Her lips dropped, and she rested on the counter. Shawn held her face in his soft warm hands and guided her face to himself. 'I love you, Momma.'