Pastor's wife-(part 2)

pastor's wife

Matie alerted the women in her church as they drove through the six-lane boulevard of Maitama suburb. At PZ Junction, Opposite Bata Shoes, she saw the scene of the accident. It was a bloody sight. The black jaguar limousine had jumped the barrier in the middle of the wide road to the other side. And smashed into an eighteen feet, forty tons fuel truck. In pieces, charred, it lay under the big vehicle, burning. Heavy black smoke had formed a cloud. There were many people around. The road safety, the defense corps, the police, the fire service, and so on were there. But they stayed distance away, glaring at the happening.

She scampered out of the vehicle toward the fire, screaming.

“Where is my husband? Where is my husband?

The corps ran to her, and held her. The women picked up her clothes that came loose. And surrounded her. The widow, Sister Robinson was there with other members of the church.

“A van had taken him and the driver to hospital,” said Sister Robinson, gripping Matie’s hands, and leading her to the car. “You are not seeing him today. You will see him later. Stop crying.”

“I will see who later…my husband...Gem. I will see him…when.”  

Please stop crying,” said the other fat fair woman, Sister Reuben.

The driver veered the car, and started back home.

She was sitting between the women, staring at the passing trees and houses, her eyes heavy with tears.

The papers of the cathedral…the castles in Panama…Paris cottage…and London garden...the bank cheques… Nobody should try me…they should better jump into the ocean and drown. Where are they going? They will not succeed. Sympathizers… my foot, she thought. And started screaming, throwing her hands and kicking her feet.

“I want to see my husband. I want to see my husband…”

“Sister Gem! Please calm down,” said Sister Robinson.

“That is true, my sister,” said Sister Reuben.

“Mmmm,” sighed the third woman, shaking her head.

The gates to her palace opened, and the car drove in.

She dashed out of the vehicle and ran into the house.

The women pursued her.

She scurried upstairs, ran along a narrow corridor. And then burst into a room. And banged the door behind her. It was a wide room, full of luxury.

She scampered to a large mirror by the wall. And lifted it away. Behind it was an in-built box. She turned the button. It opened. Diamonds rings sparkled, gold necklaces glittered, silver wares shone. Documents of their estates lay by the left side of the safe. And by the right were licenses of the limousines and the helicopter. Her hands flew over them. Then she patted them.

My God, you are wonderful…I am rich, she thought. 

And began to laugh. She put the diamond ring on her little finger. Then she hung a gold necklace on her neck and another diamond ring on her thumb. She stretched her hands to see how they look on her.

“I am rich. I am rich,” she cried out.

There were hard knocks on the door. The women had come upstairs too, and were shouting her name.

“Sister Gems! Sister Gems! Open the door! Open the door!”

She disheveled her hair. And tore off her clothes. Then she opened the door. And stood on their way, in undies and bra, laughing and swinging her hips and arms.

Then her eyes blinked. Blurred figures appeared, swaying like scarecrow in the wind. She blinked again. They were her family. Bishop Gem, Tim, and Sasha were there, looking down at her. Smiling at her. They were happy to see her back to life.

She glared at them and the surroundings. She was on her matrimonial bed. She was in her room. Then she tried to smile back but she could not. Her head was still hurting.

“What happened? Did I pass out,” she spoke.

“I am happy to have you back,” her husband said, bending low and kissing her brow.

“Mom, they have taken Junior away,” said her daughter.

“Who…,” she asked, getting out of the bed.

“The police”

Then what had happened clicked. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She fell back on the bed, turned, facing the wall.