PROMISE TOMORROW (Eiba Family Saga Book 2)

 promise-cover-for-blogCHAPTER 2 

 

The weather had gone back to being characteristic from the strange downpour, and was now hot and sunny. Ronke Eiba’s elegant carriage and poise were remarkable as she strode into the cosy sitting room of Modele’s rambling bungalow.

The house was a huge one. The four-bedroom accommodation had a library, a private study and parlour, a living room, and a patio with garden seats and tables in addition to all the other common features of a nice house.

Ronke looked toward the patio where she’d visited with Modele and Jude several times, and enjoyed the cool outdoor breeze, and moaned softly.

Three extra bedrooms, fully furnished, were hardly used. Modele’s room in itself was a spectacle. It was a ‘master’ bedroom with furniture and accessories that could keep her in it for a week without her need to leave. Looking round the extravagance of the house, Ronke moaned again and shook her head.

“This house is way too big.”

The grounds were large enough to accommodate the neglected garden at the front and side lawns, and a playground at the back. Modele wasn’t a swimming fan, or she would have had a pool too.

The sitting room was modest, and classy. With a display of a rich blend of beautiful colours, it looked like something out of an interior design magazine. One could not easily understand the owner’s taste, though. There was marble, glass, fluff, leather, and lots of colour.

Modele half-ran out of her room to hug her mother. “Mom!”

“Darling.” Ronke placed a kiss on her daughter’s neck.

There was little resemblance between mother and daughter. Ronke, fair in complexion, with a petit frame contrasted her tall daughter’s chocolate cream colour. One thing common to both however was their stunning beauty.

Ronke pulled back and studied her daughter with scrutiny. “You’ve been unhappy.”

Modele shrugged. “I miss home, that’s all.”

“Jude was at the house.”

“It’s over, Mom. Even if he’s asking to come back, I won’t—”

“I know, dear. He came to apologize to us.”

“For what? Mom, he’d known that girl for heaven knows how long. I don’t want him anymore. I can’t believe you…”

“Not yet, daughter.” Ronke found a seat and gracefully slumped into it. Her fixed hair bounced once, and fell back into place though she still used one hand to ensure it was in order. “Men cheat for a lot of reasons. I don’t mean to lecture you or justify him, but dear, I thank God you found out on time.”

“He wouldn’t have married me, anyway. He’s been stalling for the past five years…when I first brought up the issue.” Modele walked to the bar at the far end of the parlour and leaned against one of four fancy high stools with finely carved pine wood, and multi-coloured leather seats.

Ronke walked over to her. She made to pour a drink but changed her mind and sat on one of the bar stools instead. “He may have,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“Whatever.” Modele shrugged. “So what did he come to apologize for? Did he want to come back?”

The hint of hope in her voice made Ronke frown. “No.”

“Then what was the apology for?” Her daughter’s frustration translated into anger, and it showed in her question.

“For disappointing us, you.”

“Tough luck. And then?”

“He left.”

“To hell with him! He left me. He cheated!” Modele swallowed. She blinked once, trying to control an obvious spontaneous surge of emotions.

“Baby girl, don’t swear, please,” Ronke said stiffly. “You can’t do this to yourself, to us. You have to move on with your life.”

“That’s exactly what I am doing, Mom, why wouldn’t I? It is over! Eight years is over. Just like that.” She snapped her finger and laughed.

“Don’t do this, please,” Ronke said, her voice cracking. “You could be hurting more than yourself.”

“I should hurt, Mom.” The façade down, Modele’s voice trembled, and the little girl behind the strong woman came up. “I gave him all. He was my first, my only…” She burst into tears.

Ronke remained in her seat and let her cry. When the sobbing subsided, she walked graciously to stand in front of the younger woman.

“You didn’t allow him to…” The question hung.

Modele looked up and sniffed. “Once!”

Ronke looked into her daughter’s eyes and failed to hide her disappointment.

“Look, I gave it to him but it never happened again…Oh it really doesn’t matter, does it?” Modele said flippantly.

She moved away from the stool and walked toward the sliding doors that led into the patio. “He likes glass, Mom. Likes to always see through what’s on the other side,” she whispered. “I wish I’d been able to see through him all this while!”

”You have to stop thinking about him, dear. I know what I’m saying.” She sighed. “It hurts to see you like this, alone, sad, crying all day, not eating…” Ronke looked at her. “I’ve learnt from experience that forgiveness is the cure to bitterness. Bitter pill to swallow but the best.”

“It’s impossible to stop thinking about him for all the right and wrong reasons. The guilt of giving my body to him still gnaws at me. The feelings I have for him are more alive now than ever. Jude crawls all over this house. It had been his idea to have aluminium sliding doors and windows all over the house. He chose most of the furniture, colours, almost—”

“Move back with us. Your room is still as you left it and if you want separate quarters…” Ronke walked slowly toward her daughter.

Modele turned sharply, stopping her advance. “That’s out of the question. I love this house. I’m not going to run away from it just because of Jude!”

“Then you’ll need someone to move in with you. Maybe a friend…”

“You forgot Toro stays here.”

“In the chalet not in the main house with you.” Ronke looked round and flung her arms in the air. “This place is too big for you!”

Modele took a shuddering breath. “Mom, I’ll be fine. Honestly.”

“You need a man around this house. Maybe a day-watch?” She closed up on Modele and drew her into a half-hug. “Fine, the gate is electronically operated and you have enough security gadgets but you need people around you!”

“If you insist, I’ll get one but you must agree with me that I can take care of myself.” Modele rubbed her forehead as fresh tears came to her eyes.

“Your father and I are so worried for you.” Ronke tilted her daughter’s face up and looked keenly into her eyes.

“Mom, I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile. “I’ll get someone, a day watch or gardener or something, and I will be fine.”

Ronke hugged her fully, pressing her head to her breast and smoothing long rich hair she was sure Modele had not combed since the day before when she found the photographs – Jude with a woman on an island. The mass was a tangled mess.

Modele enjoyed the warm embrace only for a moment and pulled back. The smile on her face was pasted. “Mom, what do I get for you to eat? It’s…”

“Nothing. Your father will expect me to have lunch with him…as usual.”

“Hmm.”

“As though I have a choice.” Ronke sighed. “Come home with me, Modele. It will please your father tremendously.”

“I assure you, I know what’s best for me right now. I know you’re thinking—”

“Modele—”

“I won’t harm or poison myself or something. Toro is always in the house with me except for bedtime but you still feel I should have someone around during the day.” She shrugged. “I’ll do that, just for you.”

“I do hope your father understands.” Ronke patted her cheeks. “I wish I do.”

 

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A Book Review

“I must confess it is nothing like I have ever read.”

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Battered cover croppedReviewer: Cynthia Obi

Battered: An awesome 90 minute experience

The Book

The novel ‘Battered’ is an inducer of what I would refer to as an awesome 90 minutes experience. Right from the first word, on the first page, in the first chapter, the reader is totally smitten by this well crafted piece and one can feel a strong bond with the protagonist Jimmy. The novel is crafted in such a way that the reader is totally absorbed into the world of the characters. The reader gets to feel as the characters feel, see as the characters see and try to predict their next line of action., thereby giving the reader a first hand or ‘3D’ experience hence why I describe it as an ‘experience’.

The progression of the novel is steady and fluid with one event meandering through to another while still leaving an aftertaste of the previous event on your tongue. The novel Battered progresses so steadily, allowing a reader to totally grasp and soak in every part of this beautiful masterpiece. It is a toe-curling novel in which the writer utilises sparingly the element of suspense while gently nudging the reader towards the emotional state of the characters.

The novel Battered, though fictitious in nature is not dead to issues that bother the real world as the novel is daring enough to probe issues that are now being seen as a ‘Nigerian Factor’. Issues such as police brutality and what I would like to call the ‘Lazy Justice System’ (wherein the executive arm of government is overly reluctant to go about its duties) are openly explored in this gripping novel. On the issue of social vices, this compassionate novel calmly lends a voice to victims of rape, abuse and molestation in a society that tends to blame them for their cruel fate.

Another beautiful feature of the novel Battered is that it unapologetically marches on the grounds of the Christian Faith while waving the banner of celibacy and morality in a world poised for liberalism and individualism.

Battered is simply a novel in a cadre of its own. I would prefer not to refer to Battered as fictitious but as ‘a life book’; life because it serves as an expose of certain human struggles and pains but most importantly it comes bearing an important message which is that of the hard-to-kill HOPE.

The Diction

The diction of Battered is lucid and very direct. It is a book I would love to refer to as a ‘humble’ book as it is not filled with overly bogus words but simple words knitted to intrigue the mind. The book has witty, dry humour and that familiar feel of conversing with polite old friends. The words in the book Battered are richly seamed together in such a way that reflects the wealth of the mind of the author.

Character Development

The character development of the novel Battered remains the most unique I have ever come across. The writer interestingly gives little attention to the environment of these characters; i.e. the writer describes in little details the immediate environment of the characters thereby drawing the mind of the reader to see and accept the characters and the nucleus of this charming novel. This also comes off as a powerful message being that humans should be the centre of their society and their focus should remain on humanity and not material things or their immediate environment

Generally, the characters and their contrasting attributes though contrary, effortlessly complement each other in literary harmony; for instance, mummy and her dramatic nature, daddy and his placid nature.

In ending this review I would repeat myself by saying that Battered is more than a book, more than a piece of literature, Battered is an awesome experience that fascinates the mind, waters the eyes and warms the heart.

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BATTERED

Battered cover croppedDEDICATED TO EVERY WOMAN WHO SUFFER(ED) FOR THE SAKE OF LOVE

Sinmisola Ogunyinka’s email signature is “contradict your prediction” and this is what sums up her writing for me. Every book of hers I have read has left me totally satisfied but at the same time craving more.

Battered is no different. It is a romance story that would fit the thriller genre very nicely. What I call a romance story that a man would be happy to read.

It tells the story of a Nigerian in the British marines who comes home on a mission to fall in love and get married. His mission succeeds. That is the story in a sentence; but Sinmisola takes this seemingly simple story of boy meets girl and builds a story full of suspense, intrigue, drama and enough twists and turns to make your heart pound.

The story is as unpredictable as you can imagine. Sinmisola’s unique style is her ability contradict your prediction. Sinmisola writes romance with a twist; she talks about sex without talking about it. One moment it’s hot and steaming, the next moment it’s chaste and properly modest, without dropping the tempo.

Battered is a deeply satisfying read. I would recommend it for anyone and everyone. My personal rating for this book would be a 9 out of 10. And the extra point is so she can keep churning out more.

Kudos Ma’am!

Elsie Oghenekaro

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BATTERED

Battered cover cropped

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I finished it! Wow! It was sweet to read. The book was laced with suspense throughout and so romantic. The Christian ethics were well highlighted though subtle, not too glaring which was ok. He didn’t want to commit fornication, neither did she. The ending aaah! So sweet sweet . I wish it could continue but that would be a ‘blue’ book isn’t it?
Very fast paced and the beginning was tight.
Once again 120% ratings.
Thanks,
Bisi Oshinuga

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PROMISE TOMORROW (Eiba Family Saga Book 2)

promise-cover-for-blogCHAPTER 1 

 

Modele Eiba sat easy in Jude’s leather swivel chair, and turned around mischievously. Her action bespoke that of a little child Modele was far from being. In a few days she would be twenty-six years old. Tall and slender with a full bust and small waist, her complexion was a rich chocolate cream, coupled with a flawless skin.

At her age, she was an accomplished woman. She had a private hobby she had brought into the public through her freelance writing. She was also a shareholder in her father’s multibillion naira company, Decoy Holdings.

In a few days, at her birthday party, she planned to announce her wedding date to her friends and family members. It was a day she looked forward to. She only needed to settle this with her fiancé of eight years, and first love, Jude Anja.

Eight years! She couldn’t believe the years had gone by so fast. Even though most of them had been spent pursuing their separate careers, Modele couldn’t but help wondering why they had wasted so much time. Of course, Jude had been particular about establishing his law firm. Well, Jude had done just that, and it was finally pay day. All the years they had both spent, labouring and loving would now be rewarded with the nuptial cord.

Modele let out a whistle and laughed, swivelling round again. Seated in Jude’s office, she now appreciated the efforts, time, and money put in. Her time, most importantly. She had had to wait for three years while Jude accomplished his dreams. Three years she believed could have been much shorter had Jude accepted her father’s offer of help. But Jude was too proud for that.

Being the son of a multimillionaire did not stop him from believing so much in “working for your money.” He would not walk in his father’s shadow neither would he walk in hers.

Well, it paid off – a little.

Jude had his high-class law firm, his ego, and his woman. The firm boasted of five associates and three partners. There were eight employee lawyers on the team, and a handful of non-technical staff, the accountants, secretaries, and office clerks. It was a positive effort being well rewarded. She was glad she could now have her man back.

The three years had been an unquestionable three years of stress and a test of their love, and Modele was glad they had passed the storm, victorious. When at the previous Christmas party of the firm, Jude had proudly told the staff, associates, partners, and clients of Jude Anja Chambers they had met their target in all ramifications, Modele had taken it to mean he was now ready to concentrate on other things apart from work. Marriage, to be precise.

He had not made such pronunciation at previous gatherings. It now gave her the boldness to congratulate him, and suggest they had a meeting to fix their wedding day.

She checked her wristwatch and sighed. She was too excited to wait. Jude wasn’t one to keep late but the weather had been funny lately. Rain in March was odd, but not totally strange in Lagos though this one had gone along to flood some streets. It had rained continuously for the past few days and yet, the clouds had already gathered again, threatening to let all hell loose.

Modele rested her head back and closed her eyes. She breathed in the crisp, cool air of the air-conditioned room and smiled at herself. She had been smiling a lot to herself since Jude’s announcement. She had chosen his office as their meeting place because she knew it was the best place to discuss freely and seriously. Jude always attached importance to anything that took place in his office. Anywhere else was forfeit. She had been elated when he agreed. It meant he also understood the import of the meeting.

Though an office, the atmosphere was alright for planning their future. The floor was carpeted wall-to-wall with a deep leaf-green colour. Reflexive sliding doors and panes surrounded the office, enabling Jude to observe whatever went on around him outside the office without a reciprocal effect.

A small section of the large office accommodated a living area, tastefully furnished with leather settee and two single couches. A low glass centrepiece added glamour to the area. A medium sized refrigerator hummed at one end of the living area. It was ideal for a private conference even if someone else was in the other part of the office.

The other part was the office area. A large leather swivel chair sat behind an executive all-glass table. Jude had always had a thing for leather and glass. Modele was indifferent. Lining one side of the office was a ceiling-to-floor bookshelf, with more than enough books to fill. Modele shook her head in amazement. Aside this elaborate bookshelf, Jude had a standard law library within the premises. Jude was full of it all, himself, his career, and his achievements. Who wouldn’t be? Modele loved him for it.

She was proud of every single thing he had done. What more could one want in life? A good job, a good wife, some good money, stability in life, peace, joy, God… Jude definitely had a friend called luck. Or for a Christian like him, a purpose-driven life, destiny, favour, and God.

She remembered when they first met. She was barely eighteen years old and the attraction had been extraordinary and instant. They had met in the law faculty of University of Cambridge and discovered they were both freshmen. He was just a year older, but looked so much more mature. Modele had never dated anyone before him, and he fondly called her his “green-eyed daddy’s girl.”

Jude took that off her. He was full of fun and all of life’s excitement. Modele had been so taken with him he soon became her alpha and omega. And she had never regretted loving him, except for the unnecessary length of their courtship. That would be over soon.

She had insisted they announce the wedding date at her party, called the so-important meeting so they could have their privacy and the serious atmosphere needed to take a decision as well. The office had been his compromise. Over dinner would demean the importance of what she had to say. She knew he would take calls in-between their discussion and it rankled. What privacy could she get here, she thought warily, and checked her wristwatch again. Jude was already thirty minutes late.

She picked up her blackberry and dialled his number. There was no response. Where could he be? Jude was a stickler to time. He never missed appointments. Especially this kind of appointment that bore seriously on his future. Their future.

The intercom rang, catching her unawares. She picked the receiver and greeted. It was Jude’s secretary, Angie.

“Jude called,” Angie said, in a small, friendly voice. “Asked me to tell you he’s caught up in traffic. Said you can leave or wait for him.”

“Sure, thanks. I could wait.”

“If you need anything, please let me know.”

“Okay.” Modele hung up before she did.

Why would Jude call Angie instead? If he was in a traffic jam, why didn’t he pick his call?

Modele shook her head. She knew her Jude. “He’s lying.”

She pushed herself out of the chair and walked absently to his bookshelf. His books fascinated her. He had everything, from law to medicine to gardening.

She ran her hand through the books as she thought of what to do. Traffic in Lagos could be anything from one to five hours or more. She had been sure he would be in the office for their noon appointment. Sure he would not have an excuse, Jude had left the office to avoid her.

“Don’t think like that,” she mumbled.

Did she detect reluctance here? Her hand rested on a book on marriage ceremonies in East Africa, and she pulled it out. “I’m frustrated!”

She leafed through and dropped it on the carpeted floor. The soft thudding sound it made gave her an idea she knew would drive Jude Anja mad but with a giggle, she followed through on it. Randomly, she brought books out of the shelves and flung them around.

“Jude’ll kill me!”

It took her time. It was his fault making her wait, knowing how much she hated to wait. For anything or anyone. Jude loved his books like a second wife. And he arranged them with care and affection. She knew scattering them would jeopardise their important marriage discussion but she was beyond reason.

When she was tired and the floor was almost covered, she went back to the book on eastern Africa marriage rites and sat on the floor with it. She would wait for him. The pictures in the book were intriguing, and she was soon lost in the captions that accompanied them.

But not for long. It was almost three o’clock. About two hours since Angie’s call. She stretched her neck, and squeezed her eyes. Maybe she should arrange his books back and go home. He would still be upset anyway, because only Jude knew how to arrange Jude’s books. Better to be on his good side than otherwise. She picked the books one by one, and pushed them back into the shelves, until she saw a plain, white envelope at the back of one space. Jude’s name was written with pink highlighter.

She brought it out and turned it around. The envelope looked unopened. She thought it would be her weapon to pacify him when he saw how untidy his shelf was. Her discovery should please him, especially if the documents were important. Jude was in the habit of hiding things and then tearing himself apart, looking for them. She turned the envelope over and discovered it had been opened. Carefully, she kept it on his table and continued to arrange the shelves.

Jude walked in another three hours later. He obviously wasn’t expecting her to be there. Angie had closed and so had most of the support staff. He looked worn out but that was not what informed his reaction when he opened his posh office door and walked in.

Modele was seated yoga-style on the floor, facing the door. Her eyes were closed. Her lips moved as though she muttered a prayer. Photographs, most of them torn, were strewn on the carpet floor around her. The plain envelope with the pink name was torn in between Modele’s crossed legs.

Jude walked in slowly, taking in the scenery before him. His gaze darkened, and he took a deep breath. His eyes followed the trail of pictures. They were taken at a beach side in an island. There were two people in the photos.

Jude gasped.

He taketh the first

Taketh 3bHe taketh the first is the story of losses and gains. Glory loses her baby, and Peter’s wife dies, leaving a sick baby. Peter’s baby refuses to be fed until Glory offers to be his wet nurse. Has the hand of fate twisted to favour Glory, or did she sign on more trouble for her already cumbered life?

 

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FRIDAY CHOCOLATE TREAT: JIMMY BOWALE

230916An officer, and a Christian gentleman couldn’t come better packaged than in Jimmy Bowale.  He is every woman’s dream husband. Jimmy however, has a problem choosing a wife, despite his desire to get married.

When he does finally make a choice, it is one every mother would frown at. However, Jimmy has a mind of his own. Wouldn’t you want to know his choice, and why?

Love does have a way of compensating though.

Jimmy is a decent, compassionate, and assertive gentleman. He knows what he wants and knows how to get it. He has such a strong personality, and yet a gentle disposition, a great character if ever you have found one.

Chidi Mokeme croppedChidi Mokeme is one of my favourite male actors and I can just picture him in Jimmy’s navy uniform. He’s a bloke, surely!

Battered cover  croppedRead BATTERED, A True Dream novel by Sinmisola Ogúnyinka to discover the true treasures about Jimmy Bowale. Only available here!