Athena momentarily stiffened at the girl’s dry, determined tone. “That’s a poor idea,” she said while leaving the chair near the bed. “Do you need reminding?”
“Oh, I don’t need reminding,” Rosella turned then to glare down at Athena with accusing eyes. “I know the reason, by heart. What I’m wondering is why you haven’t talked to Stone the way you said you would.”
“Because the first thing he’ll want to know is where you are.” Athena grabbed Rosella’s arm, keeping her still when the young woman would have turned away. “I can tell him one of two things, girl- that you’re here, about to have his child at which time he may come here for you the way you want, but word of your condition will certainly reach your parents and what do you suppose that will do to them?”
Rosella snatched her arm free and turned back to the window.
“Or,” Athena stressed. “I could tell him about all you’re learning in training to be my assistant. It won’t take him long to discover that’s a lie at which time he’ll try tracking you down through me or worse, your parents, resulting in their needless worry.”
“So in the meantime I live this lie?!” Rosella pounded her fist to the sill.
“Unless you want to be honest and live with the consequences of the shame?”
“It’s almost the seventies, you know? No disrespect Mrs. Tesano, but things like this aren’t cause for the kind of headshaking it was in your day.”
Athena’s expression remained mild. “It is for we Italians and you know that. Don’t be led astray by the actions of the blacks and other savages like them.”
Rosella stalked from the window and went to flop on the bed. “What happens when the baby comes?” She cried, angrily clutching at the ruffled hem of her green polka dot sundress. “The shame will be the same,” she pouted.
“No, girl. Not the same,” conviction carried Athena’s words. “Something very different will have changed. My bab- your baby,” she cleared her throat softly over the misspeak. “The baby will be here, bella. The baby will be here, and everything will be fine. The baby will change everything for the best.”
Rosella released a shuddery breath. “You believe that?”
Athena rushed over to clutch Rosella’s hands. “I know that. Can you trust me?”
Rosella hesitated for a few beats and then nodded.
“And no more nervous talk, si?”
Rosella gave another fast nod. “I’m afraid,” she said.
“Oh child,” Athena drew Rosella close. “There is no need. I’m here and I will take care of everything.”
~13~
Tradition weaved through all scenes of Faraji Kamande’s wedding to Meena ToBua. The wedding march journeyed through the sandswept streets of the village to the courthouse where the couple was legally registered to wed. Then, the procession moved to the church where the ceremony took place. It was an exhilarating and exhausting three hour event, filled with traditional singing and dancing. Faraji and Meena displayed admirable stoicism, maintaining reserved demeanors throughout the event as was customary. Once they were pronounced husband and wife, the celebration continued at the Kamande home. Food, music and conversation were more than abundant. An array of hearty stews-goat stew and peanut stew among them, as well as salads and fruit crowded the tables.
The event was attended by well over 80 people who knew the Kamandes through Hilar Kamande’s vast network of friends and business associates. There were also relatives from the brides’ and groom’s families as well as residents of the village and those from throughout Mozambique, all to bestow best wishes to the new couple.
In addition to bestowing wishes, there was also curiosity about the young man rumored to have the hand of the Chief’s daughter. Imani was overjoyed to have Roman on her arm and the feeling was clearly mutual. Despite the staggering allure of the bride and groom, Roman and Imani commanded more than their share of the guests’ attention. They were a provocative pair, whether they were engaged in conversation or taking part in bouts of energetic dancing. They strolled the reception arm in arm, their heads bent closely together and appeared an undeniable love match.
~~~
“They do that in America?” Imani’s eyes were wide.
“Among Italians. It’s our custom too.” Roman explained, having mentioned the tradition of heaping cash upon the newlyweds. Faraji had almost been swamped under a cascade of small white envelopes.
The reception was still going strong as night fell. Roman and Imani left the excitement behind and drifted out to where other couples had sought a measure of privacy along the fringes of celebration. The sound of wood flutes, pipes and drums were muffled yet still pleasantly audible by the time they had made it to the bridal tree where Roman had found Imani dancing over a week prior.
“Imani?”
“Hmm?” She turned in an airy fashion, her long skirts swishing elegantly.
Roman hung back, his expression somewhat shadowed by the failing light. “Are you sure about all this? About marrying me?”
Imani moved in close, not stopping until she could see his expression illuminated by the moonlight. “Why would you question that?”
“I just um,” unable to meet her eyes, Roman turned his focus to one of the beefy tree limbs. “I had the chance to talk to some of the guys here today- a lot of good guys, you know? Ones who are um... interested in you.” He cleared his throat.
She moved even closer. “Did someone say something to you- something unkind?”
“No. No, I swear that’s not it. I-it’s just that if it...if it wasn’t for me you might find a guy to love, one your parents could be really happy to see you with.” He smoothed a hand over one of the enormous tree limbs and absently marveled at the wood’s sleek texture. “Your folks are great Imani, but I’m sure they’d rather see you with someone a...shade more suitable.”
Imani stepped back, distancing herself from Roman and the tree. “You don’t want us?”
He hissed a curse, rushed over to take her hand and press it hard to his mouth. “I want us all the way. I swear that to you, Imani. You’d think I was crazy if you knew how much I want us.”
“Tell me,” she held him tight.
“Alright,” he bowed his head again briefly that time. “I want to stay a while after we’re married.”
“Stay a while.”
“A few months. Maybe more.”
Understanding made her gasp. “You aren’t serious!”
“I promise, I am.”
