STAINS ON THE CROSS | PART TWO
The afternoon light was bright and warm. Jimmi stepped out of her house with a small stack of textbooks pressed firmly to her chest.
The sun rested high, its heat gentle but insistent, and birds chirped from a nearby tree as if keeping time with her footsteps.
Dust stirred faintly beneath her sandals as she walked, her mind wrestling with thoughts she had prayed over more than once.
She reached Jemimah’s door and hesitated. The air seemed to pause with her. Drawing in a quiet breath, she steadied herself, resolve settling into her tone before her lips could even move.
Jimmi (calmly):
“Peace… I must keep peace.”
Before her knuckles could rise to knock, the door swung open abruptly. Jemimah’s hand shot out, gripping Jimmi’s arm and pulling her inside with surprising speed.
The door shut behind them with a firm thud, sealing off the afternoon sounds.
Jimmi’s breath caught, her voice breaking out on instinct.
Jimmi (startled):
“Oh—!”
The room filled quickly with Jemimah’s energy. Her eyes sparkled, laughter bubbling up as though it had been waiting behind the door.
She drew in a quick, excited breath, the smile already in her voice when it spilled out—light, fast, and overflowing.
Jemimah (excited):
“I saw you from the window! I was so happy I couldn’t wait for you to knock.”
The sudden warmth shifted the air. Jimmi adjusted her hold on the books, her shoulders easing as she offered a polite, measured smile.
The tension softened, though it did not fully leave. Her voice followed suit—quiet, careful, touched with courtesy rather than comfort.
Jimmi (courteous):
“Well… thank you.”
Jemimah waved the words away, already turning toward the small table as if the conversation itself needed to move faster.
A light laugh slipped from her lips, and her voice danced—quick, bright, impossible to ignore.
Jemimah (playful):
“Enough of thank you. I have good news. Guess.”
Light from the window brushed Jimmi’s face as she tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering. Her lips curved faintly, but her eyes searched Jemimah’s expression.
A quiet inhale preceded her words, soft and cautious, as if testing the waters before stepping in.
Jimmi (tentative):
“People mocking you again because of me?”
The room stilled. Jemimah stopped short, her shoulders dipping as a sigh escaped her. For a moment, the playful air cracked, revealing something quieter beneath.
Her tone trembling slightly but steadying as she spoke.
Jemimah (softening):
“No. I’m sorry about last time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Forgive me.”
The words settled gently. Jimmi’s face loosened, the guarded lines easing as warmth returned to her eyes. Peace flowed back into the room, like air after a held breath.
Her voice followed, smooth and steady, carrying the gentle reassurance in her heart.
Jimmi (warmly):
“I forgave you already.”
Jemimah’s face lit up again, relief and excitement rushing back in waves. She leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret too good to keep.
A small laugh tinkled at the edge of her words before she spoke.
Jemimah (eager):
“I have a rich, handsome brother—his name is Jesh.”
The name landed unexpectedly. Jimmi blinked, surprise breaking through her calm. A soft laugh bubbled up, warm and unguarded, spilling into her words before she could stop it.
Jimmi (amused):
“Another J?”
Jemimah grinned, delight dancing freely now. Her shoulders relaxed, and a light chuckle slipped through before her words, carrying the spark of mischief.
Jemimah (teasing):
“Yes! I think you’re meant for each other.”
The warmth dimmed. Jimmi’s smile faded as her grip on the books tightened. The air shifted, heavier, more serious, pressing around her like a silent warning.
Her voice cut through it—steady, clear, and unmistakably firm.
Jimmi (firm):
“I’m here to study, not to talk about marriage.”
For a split second, something sharp crossed Jemimah’s face. She caught it quickly, smoothing it into something acceptable, but the room had already felt the change.
Jimmi noticed. Her expression softened, guilt seeping in like water through a hairline crack. She hesitated, then spoke, her tone lowered and careful, as if afraid of pressing too hard.
Jimmi (concerned):
“Jemimah… why are you sad suddenly?”
Jemimah forced a small smile, thin and careful, as if holding something back.
She drew in a quiet breath, steadying herself, and her voice was composed, controlled, leaving no room for what she didn’t say.
Jemimah (restrained):
“Don't worry. You can go... take your seat and study.”
The words did not convince. Jimmi slowly lowered the books, the movement deliberate, heavy with intention.
She hesitated, breath catching as if testing the ground beneath her thoughts. Her tone faltered—careful, unsure, almost apologetic.
Jimmi (uncertain):
“I can't… but let me ask you, will marrying Jesh keep our friendship blooming?”
Jemimah nodded, the motion slow, almost calculated. The room seemed to lean in. Her words were unhurried—steady, clipped, leaving no space for doubt.
Jemimah (assured):
“Sure.”
Jimmi’s breath wavered. Her voice trembled, conviction wrestling with confusion as the weight of faith pressed into her chest.
Jimmi (troubled):
“Why are you so intent on tempting me? You know my church and biblical standards as well, so why are you doing all these things to me?”
The silence that followed felt sharp. Even the light through the window seemed to dull.
Jimmi drew in a shaky breath, lips pressing together as she exhaled slowly. Each word carried the weight of careful restraint.
Jimmi (strained):
“I have never met your brother or known him before. He is not even a member of my church.”
Her words gathered force, coiling tight in her chest before spilling out all at once. Her hands trembled slightly, and her breath came in quick, uneven pulls.
Her voice cracked at first, then surged with raw hurt, pressing into the room like a living thing.
Jimmi (hurt):
“Why are you so hard on me with all these things? Tell me, what is your problem?”
Jemimah exhaled deeply, the sound heavy, layered with something unresolved. Shadows shifted along the wall as the sun moved, the room growing quieter, watchful.
Her tone was soft, hesitant, yet tender—carrying the weight of both love and restraint.
Jemimah (apologetic):
“I'm sorry… you know I love you. But… I’m not forcing you.”
The pause stretched, thick with unspoken intentions. Jemimah exhaled softly, letting the moment settle around her like a gentle shrug. Her voice floated out easy, light, almost playful.
Jemimah (casual):
“Anyway… tomorrow, I will be travelling to my hometown to visit my parents. I'd be happy if you could go with me...”
Jimmi lifted her brows, suspicion flickering across her face like a warning light. Her lips pressed together for a fraction of a second, and a quiet, sharp exhale hinted at her doubt before she spoke.
Jimmi (skeptical):
“To see him, right?”
Jemimah shook her head quickly, almost too quickly, her tone light but edged.
Jemimah (dismissive):
“Oh… no. He is not in the town.”
The words settled, but the room did not relax. Outside, the afternoon sounds continued—birds, distant movement.
Later, the room settled into a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages, as they sat together.
The ceiling light cast warm pools across open books, and the evening breeze slipped through the window, stirring the curtains gently.
Jemimah described Jesh’s cars, mansions, respect, wealth, and peace.
Her posture shifted with intention. Her voice rose, gentler now, persuasive, as though laying a careful path with words.
Jemimah (gently):
“When we go there, I will show you everything.”
The words lingered in the air. Jimmi’s pen froze mid-page, ink hovering over unfinished lines as her thoughts began to scatter.
The walls seemed to listen, the ticking clock growing louder, while unseen questions pressed against her chest.
Thoughts raced in Jimmi’s mind, colliding with images she did not invite.
Jemimah leaned closer, closing the space between them as if drawing truth out by proximity. Her tone slipped in again, light but probing, cutting through the quiet.
Jemimah (curiously):
“Jimmi… why are you silent?”
Jimmi blinked, startled back into the room. The pen slipped slightly between her fingers as she lifted her head, the light reflecting faint uncertainty in her eyes.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and a quiet exhale preceded her words—soft, measured, almost brushing off the moment before it landed.
Jimmi (clipped):
“Oh, nothing.”
A soft laugh escaped Jemimah, airy and teasing, brushing against the moment like harmless play.
Her shoulders lifted slightly as she leaned back, letting the sound linger before her voice followed—light, lilting, mischievous.
Jemimah (playfully):
“Don’t tell me you have fallen in love with him already.”
Jimmi exhaled slowly, her shoulders easing as if releasing something she had been holding too tightly.
The night breeze pressed against the window again, whispering agreement and warning at once.
Her lips parted, a soft intake of breath carrying calm resolve before her tone finally emerged—quiet, steady, deliberate.
Jimmi (measured):
“Not really… but I will go with you.”
Jemimah’s delight burst forth immediately. She clapped her hands lightly, the sound sharp in the quiet room, joy rippling through her posture.
A soft, lilting laugh rose from her lips, carrying warmth and excitement before she even spoke.
Jemimah (pleased):
“That’s why I love you. Nothing will hinder our friendship. Let’s study now.”
The books were pulled closer, but the words on the pages blurred for Jimmi as the evening deepened.
That night, Jimmi lay on her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as pale moonlight filtered through the window, drawing faint patterns across the walls.
The house slept, fans hummed softly, and the world outside seemed distant.
Her voice barely stirred the air, as though afraid to wake something within her.
Jimmi (softly):
“Jemimah… but would Jesh want to marry me? Well… if he wants to marry me, I will accept him. Nothing will stop me. I would like to meet him one day to know him well.”
The silence thickened. Shadows stretched across the room, and her chest tightened as another thought rose, heavier than the first.
Jimmi (conflicted):
“Why am I thinking like this? Is this how backsliding begins? Lord, help me…”
The prayer dissolved into the quiet, unanswered yet not unheard. Jimmi pulled the blanket tighter, but it offered no warmth against the sudden chill of her own thoughts.
Every tick of the clock felt like a judgment, a rhythmic reminder of the path she was considering—a path paved with mansions and cars, yet shrouded in a mist she couldn't see through.
She closed her eyes, trying to reclaim the steady peace she had known before Jemimah’s words began to stir the silt at the bottom of her heart.
But the images remained: the lure of a life she hadn't asked for, and the face of a man she had never met, already competing with the devotion she had promised to God.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written by Agbemawle Atsu Norvishi
© All Rights Reserved. Shared freely to bless and inspire.
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