Isis Kamande was radiant in a creation of peach chiffon over linen. Her smile hinted of knowing and an element that seemed a touch playful.
“So, this is who my daughter speaks of with her friends and attendants,” Isis Kamande’s voice carried a throaty, commanding tone that seemed at odds with her petite frame. “I suppose she thinks me too old to swoon and giggle over young, beautiful things,” Isis’ eyes were expressive, captivating spheres of bright hazel. They surveyed Roman with a woman’s approval.
“I can see why my girl is so enchanted.”
“Mamae,” Imani whispered, sounding completely mortified.
“Should we talk in the library, my love?” Isis spoke to her husband but still appraised Roman.
“This way, Son,” the Chief instructed.
Isis finally gave her daughter a look. “You can let go of him now, Child. I promise we won’t devour him like a hyena pack.”
Imani obeyed and Roman sensed the loss when her hands drifted from his arm. In moments, he was sensing contact of a different kind when the Chief’s beefy hand clapped his back.
The men left the entry hall and took the long corridor before it. The women followed, walking side by side.
“Has Imani shown you the house yet, Son?” The Chief inquired.
Roman hesitated before answering. He’d been trying to keep a mental checklist of things not to say that could potentially get him killed. Telling the Chief he’d spent his time kissing the man’s only daughter; while the sun set in the unending African sky, was definitely among them.
“I haven’t seen all of it, Sir,” Roman said.
The Chief nodded. “Well we’ll be sure to get you a thorough look around tonight. That is, if you haven’t already had enough walking?”
Roman shook his head and grinned. “I may be from the city, Sir, but that only means I know a lot about walking.”
There was laughter, but Roman’s attention was quickly recaptured by his surroundings. “Chief, your home...it’s amazing,” he didn’t begrudge the awe in his voice as they strolled the corridor where their footfalls were muffled in deep Persian carpeting.
The immense hall contained looming portraits that seemed to run the length of the great space.
“Are these members of your family?” Roman asked.
“Some,” the Chief studied the art as well. “And some of the pieces were done by family.”
Roman nodded. “Good of you to use your home as a gallery.”
“Ha! I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t.”
Laughter livened the small caravan as it moved through the palace-sized home where one room was even more unreal than the next. Despite the grandeur, the place still felt more of a home than a showpiece. Nevertheless, it was nice to see a small bit of vanity realized inside the space.
Roman nearly staggered back when they arrived at the library. It was utterly remarkable in scale, and he felt his wonder multiply. He could do nothing to quell his reaction which was to stare open-mouthed at the towering three levels of books, packed tight and filling every one of the countless shelves.
The Chief chuckled over the younger man’s reaction and waved to Roman once he had completed his dogged survey of the stacks.
Roman found his companions already seated in the library’s main reading area in the center of the room. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said.
“Imani told me of your parents’ home. Surely they...” the Chief trailed off when Roman shook his head.
“This is beyond that, Sir.” Roman surveyed the lofty room once more. “This is on the level with the public library in New York,” he said.
Imani and her family laughed.
“Only a man of substance would be bowled over by what most would consider the most boring part of the house,” The Chief said.
“I’m no reader, Sir,” Roman clarified with a head shake. “But only a fool would think they were looking at the most boring part of the house.”
“But surely you haven’t come all this way to survey our home, Child.”
“Mamae...”
“It’s okay, Imani,” Roman’s words were as soft as the smile he sent her way.
“Have a seat, Son,” Hilar Kamande indicated the long chair to one side of the coffee table.
The furnishings were all made of Mukwa, a durable and highly sought after hardwood from the Umbila trees that were indigenous to the area. The Chief and his wife had settled to the wing chairs, while Imani occupied the chair opposite the long seat.
Roman turned his full focus in Isis Kamande’s direction. “I’m here to ask permission to marry your daughter,” he said.
“Come now, Roman,” the Chief urged. “We’re all friends here, let’s be honest. I saw my girl’s face when she brought you to us. A glow like that comes from more than being with a boy who wants permission to marry her.”
Roman nodded and had to appreciate the man’s candor, not to mention his startling ability to read people as accurately as his own father could.
“Well, Son?” The Chief prodded.
“I asked Imani to marry me. She said, yes.”
“And you are ready for this, Jer,” Isis used the abbreviated version of Imani’s middle name in the same endearing manner the rest of the family did. “You are ready to be a wife and for all that involves?”
