Forever mine Chapter Two: Whispers of Passion

Three months ago…

Hotel de Plaisir

Paris, France

7:15pm

Jacob stood infront of the tall dressing mirror at the corner of the large bedroom, fumbling with his tie. Their reservation at the La Tour d’Argent was for 8pm. He had everything planned out. Tonight needed to be perfect. After all, it was their one-year anniversary.

He knotted the dark-colored tie over a well-tailored white dress shirt. Strapping on the black waist coat, he slid on a pair of tint-black Tom Ford lace-ups. He took up the tuxedo from the wardrobe and slung it over his shoulder, posing before the mirror.

He ran his palm along the side of his neatly carved low-cut hair, then touched the beard on either side of his face. The mythical Greek gods of Olympus had nothing on him. He struck another pose, smoldering like his eyes could light a fire.

“Dang, Jacob. You have no business looking this good.” He mused.

Snapping out of his vanity, he strapped on his watch while glancing around for signs of Abigail.

“Honey? Are you done? The limo’s going to be here soon.”

“Just a minute! I’ll be ready soon, baby!” she yelled from the bathroom. Jacob rolled his eyes. He knew that if he decided to cook Afang soup, it would be ready before she would.

He carefully laid the tux on the bed and moved toward the open balcony.

Their suite was like a white penthouse, furnished perfectly in a fashion that screamed luxury and comfort. It sat on one of the top floors, and led to an adjoining balcony that gave them a perfect view of the city.

Paris was particularly beautiful at night, and the view from their private suite was breathtaking. The city had a characteristic golden glow, its cobble-stoned streets lined with aesthetically-pleasing high rise buildings. Lampposts stood on almost every corner like sentinels of the night, casting their warm amber glow on everything in sight.

The city was alive, a warm buzz of culture, music and art, a combination tourists often found irresistible. The gentle murmur of conversation, the serenade of distant laughter, and the distant strains of sweet saxophone notes filled the warm night. Street performers and artists held groups of spectators spellbound, adding to the flavor of the city’s alluring culture.

It was truly the City of Lights. However, Jacob planned to make sure that his wife remembered it more as the City of Love.

He fondly recalled her reaction when he broke the news of the trip to her. He remembered her joyful smile, and how she jumped on him with glee and excitement. He really loved making her happy. He couldn’t wait for her to see what he had planned. Their itinerary was filled with so many exciting places.

He looked toward the Eiffel Tower, the celestial guardian of Paris, its crown piercing the dark sapphire sky. He smiled to himself, reveling at the thought of standing at the top with the love of his life. He had paid through his nose for it, but she was worth every dime.

He walked back into the room, pacing while checking the time. He stole a glance at the bathroom, hoping his wife would pop out. She didn’t. He breathed out in acceptance, looking around the room for nothing in particular. After a while, he absentmindedly began humming an old Hymn.

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness

And I dare not trust the sweetest frame

But wholly trust in Jesus name

The epiphany behind the words washed over his heart. He sank to the bed, shutting his eyes while he sang. His voice began to rise, his soul traveling further into the song. He suddenly switched to Hillsong’s Cornerstone.

His oath, His covenant, His blood

Support me in the ‘whelming flood

When all around my soul gives way

He then is all my hope and stay

Christ alone, cornerstone

Weak made strong in the Savior’s love

Through the storm

He is Lord, Lord of all

He is Lord

Lord of all

It was the same song that was rendered when he stepped out on that fateful day. The sermon had broken him, and he had finally understood that Jesus was all he needed.

It was seven years ago. He had been invited to a church service. He had never really been the religious type. In fact, he had even harbored grievances against God for the hardship he had faced, especially after losing his Father. After becoming rich and successful, he had seen no need for prayers and never felt the need to go to any church. He had failed to see God’s Hand on him when he had nothing, he didn’t need it now that he had everything, or so he had thought. Up till that present moment, he could never explain how and why he had honored that invitation.

It had come causally, almost like the person handed him the flier like an afterthought. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it. It was a strange experience for him. After talking with his friend, Clinton, they had both decided to give it a try.

At the service, the choir sang a hymn his dad had often sung while he worked in the backyard. His father was fond of whistling Christian hymns while working on the furniture orders he had gotten throughout the week. As a little boy, he would sing along with his dad, while playing with the little pieces of chopped wood on the ground under his father’s watchful eye. His dad would playfully pat him on the head on occasion and say ‘God is good’. And he would reply, ‘All the time’ with child-like glee.

Hearing those hymns again stirred up a wave of buried emotions. He had wanted to leave but his feet felt like they were set in concrete. Tears welled up in his eyes, and then, he was caught up into an open vision.

He had seen his father, clothed in glorious raiment, smiling from a place of pure light. He stood next to another Man whose face was concealed by the blinding light. His father was smiling, as though telling him everything was alright. The vision ended, almost as quickly as it had come.

He wept, feeling deeply confounded by the strange encounter. The sermon preached was titled, ‘The Father of Light’. He couldn’t explain it, but the preacher unveiled the goodness of God in all things. He remembered the powerful statements he had heard that day.

“God is never evil. Most times, He is just misunderstood. The pain we experience will always preach to us that He is not good. However, the reality of His goodness is greater than any pain in this dying world. Even the pioneers and champions of the faith we profess, including our Lord, suffered far worse things, and yet they left this world muttering the faithfulness of God with their dying breath. How dare we think that the faithfulness of God could be measured by our convenience and comfort?”

Jacob remembered shifting uneasily on his seat. The words had come like a hammer, shattering the hardness of his heart. He had never imagined the faithfulness of God amidst pain and suffering. The sermon made him understand that faith wasn’t just charismatic, but it was also enduring despite any circumstance.

Right there, his grievances against God began to wither. His heart finally opened to receive God. It was the first the day he had heard God clearly. No words had filled him with greater love and peace than the ones God had spoken while he stood before the altar.

“My Son, this day I have begotten you. You are mine…”

Jacob was so engrossed in the song, he hadn’t realized that his wife was out watching him. The sound of her dulcet voice harmonizing with his brought a smile to his face. He raised his head.

“Finally, you-“ he began, her beauty choking out the remaining words.

“I see you’re still the same sweet choir boy I met five years ago,” Abigail teased.

Jacob smiled, his eyes dancing over his wife’s luscious frame. She wore an armless cream-colored Vera Wang evening gown. Her dark caramel skin glistened under the golden lights. Her dark-colored eyes were like twin orbs of polished obsidian, gleaming with unhidden desire and passion. Her hair was packed neatly into a mid-bun, her ears adorned with tear drop earrings. She was a dream, a very beautiful dream.

“Well? How do I look?” She asked with a nervous laugh, holding the black Swarovski studded jewel purse close to her mid-section. She turned around, giving him a complete view of her outfit, revealing the Kate Spade heel sandals underneath the dress.

Jacob blinked in awe, awkwardly getting off the bed.

“I… Ummm…” He stuttered, the fuzzy feelings overwhelming him.

“What? Don’t you like it? Is it the shoes? It’s the shoes, isn’t it?” She asked, squeezing her face as she looked at her feet.

He moved towards her, gently caressing her cheeks.

“There are days I have words to describe you. But today isn’t one of those days. Your beauty demands higher words than the ones I know. Forgive me…” he whispered lovingly, slowly taking her hand and kissing it.

Abigail felt heat rush to her cheeks. Her anxiety over her choice of dressing dissipated. Gently, she placed her head on his chest, reveling in his warm embrace. Passion lit up her senses when he pulled her closer. Even after a year of marriage, he still gave her butterflies.

“It’s going to be a cold night. You should probably get a jacket.” He said, his words laced with affection.

Raising her head to meet his eyes, her eyes sparkled with so much love for him.

“Two jackets can’t keep me as warm as your love for me does…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:30pm

La Tour D’Argent

Paris, France

The ornate brass light fixtures cast a warm amber hue over the richly decorated interior. The restaurant was filled with the rumble of low, comfortable conversation. A string quartet played in the background, adding to the class and ambience of the scene. Attendance was a little less than usual but it was perfect for the couple.

“Bonsoir Monsieur, would you like to start with a drink? or shall I bring a menu right away?” The middle-aged French waiter asked politely.

“Oui s’il vous plait. We’d like a bottle of Chardonnay. Merci.” Jacob replied, his eyes hurriedly returning to his wife. The waitress nodded and disappeared into the back.

She was on her phone for a while, but his eyes stayed on her. He smiled, swooning over everything about her. He was truly thankful for the woman God gave him. He couldn’t believe he was this deeply in love with someone. He was a finished man. Nothing remained.

Abigail caught him staring at her and blushed, returning a coy smile.

“And just what are you looking at, baby boy?” She teased, leaning in amorously.

“Who? Me? I mean have you seen you? What else should I be looking at? I have everything I want to see today right in-front of me.”

Abigail smiled adorably, shying away from his loving gaze. This man would be the end of her.

“You’re the only source of color in this room, Abby. And not a day goes by, when I am not grateful to God that you’re mine.”

Abigail blushed so hard, her cheeks hurt a little.

“Oya, it’s okay. Please… I’m begging,” she said with a small laugh. God knows she didn’t want him to stop.

“Oh, I’m just getting started, baby. That reminds me, I got you a little anniversary present…” Jacob said, pulling out a small leather box and a small card from his jacket pocket.

“This man, what have you done again?” Abigail laughed, rolling her eyes playfully.

She took the box, choosing to read the card first:

“I’ve always admired the stars, wondering what it was like to be up there. I never would have guessed, that God would bring one down just for me. Happy anniversary my love, one year down, eternity to go…“

Abigail gasped softly, covering her mouth with her palms. Tears welled up in her eyes. What sort of man was this?

“God, you’re going to ruin my make-up…” She sniffed, laughing softly. She quickly removed a tissue from her purse and dabbed her cheeks, laughing at herself because of how she was acting. Hard woman in the dustbin.

Jacob smiled, egging her to open the gift box. She gave him a playfully suspicious look, opening it slowly. A large diamond solitaire pendant stared back at her. She was astonished.

“Beat that, Abby.” He said, smirking smugly. Her expression made him so happy.

She pursed her lips, her emotions a mess. She reached across and touched his hand.

“Thank you. Not just for the necklace. But for the gift of you. Thank you for being you to me.” She said, her gaze intense.

“I love you, Abby…” Jacob replied, putting his hand over hers.

“I love you more. Now, I’ve got your gift as well,” she said amusingly.

“Really?” Jacob asked, raising a curious eyebrow. He watched her bring out a small box from her purse and push it toward him. It came with a card as well. He smiled, reading the words scribbled in printed calligraphy.

“You are the one my eyes will never tire of seeing, whose touch I will never tire of feeling. You are forever mine to behold, a treasure I wouldn’t give up for gold. One year down, the rest of our lives to go. Happy anniversary, my love…“

Jacob sat there, his jaw dropping. This time, she was the one laughing at his expression. He opened the box and saw the silver Rolex she had gotten him.

“E shock you ba? You think it’s only you that can be romantic, abi? Dey play dear. You don jam.” She said laughing, satisfied to have beat him at his own game.

“Fine, you win, this year.” Jacob conceded smiling.

The waiter returned with a bottle of Chardonnay and two menu tabs.

“Merci.” Jacob said, taking the bottle. He poured a glass for her and then for himself. They quickly fixed their orders and returned to their evening.

Hours rolled like minutes between the two lovebirds. Beyond lovers, they were best friends, perfectly comfortable in each other’s company. Little did they know, that disaster had been in the same room, watching them from three tables away.

“Babe, I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom,” Jacob said, excusing himself. He walked away quickly, half-searching for the right direction.

Abigail nodded and took a sip of her glass, burying herself in her phone.

Suddenly, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Turning to see who it was, her breath ceased. She felt her blood run cold, her eyes struggling to register the person in front of her.

Impossible…

Her lips parted, the name coming out with a stutter.

“Z-Zamani?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Disclaimer: The following is a fictional work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is purely coincidental. The characters, incidents, and dialogues portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are not intended to represent real individuals, organizations, or situations.