Sandra came out of the station then. She looked at Mr Adegoke and shook her head. She didn’t believe all that she had been told by the police.

“Your persuasive skills are great sir,” She told him and left, Bimbo’s phone in her hands.

“So, after all these, Bimbo’s life is still in danger.”

“Yes, and yours too, once they find out that you are my son, and then they’ll come for me for breaking the covenant,” He sighed after pouring out his heart.

“You’re the one who paid Bimbo’s bills then?” 

Mr Adegoke nodded.

“So what do you suggest we do next? The doctor guaranteed Bimbo’s safety, but we still need to find a permanent place where she can recuperate.”

“Bimbo needs a mother and I was hoping that your mother would pick her call. But she didn’t. Would you please ask her?”

Femi nodded in reply. He already believed his father’s story.

“Would I be hasty if I asked you to come back home too?” his father asked.

“I can’t do that. You just said that they’d be after my life.”

“That’s true, but the police here have promised to send the information about their hideout and our relationship with them to the police at Ogun State. You might want to fight this together with us so we can live quiet and peaceable lives.”

“I’ll have to pray about it first and find a way to give you my reply.”

Femi’s father nodded. The nodding thing had begun to be a way of communication between them.

Femi got home in the evening quite exhausted;  he was emotionally spent. He checked the cooking pot on the floor. The rice in the pot was too small to satisfy him. He had been eating mostly rice for the whole month. He thought about what his father had said about living quiet and peaceable lives. That did not include a promise of ‘not only rice diet’.

Today,  he lost his job, his stepsister was almost killed and camouflaged as a suicide victim. He found out that his occultic father had become someone with grace in his speech. He also exhibited a strange understanding. He had a lot to think about.

“Hello Brother Femi,” the pastor’s voice on his phone broke into his thoughts.

“Hello, pastor,” he replied lazily.

“I got your message. I hope everything is fine?”

“Pastor, I should come and see you tomorrow. We have a lot to discuss sir.”

“Alright, no problem. I’ll see you tomorrow. God bless you.”

“Hello pastor, are you still there?” Femi checked the face of the phone.

“Yes, Brother Femi.” Pastor replied

“I think we just need to discuss now. Do you have time?”

“Go ahead, I’m with you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Femi started discussing with the pastor, talking about the loud songs first. By the time he was done telling his uncertainties to his pastor, he felt less burdened.

“Wow.” That was all the pastor could say after listening.

“Should I go with him to Ogun state?” Femi asked.

“Brother Femi,” the pastor stressed the ‘e in his name. By so doing, Femi knew that he was about to be scolded. “I’ve always told you that the Holy Spirit is your first and most trustworthy confidant. But I must commend your bravery in trying to reach out to that girl.” He laughed. “She turned out to be your only surviving step sister. I’m proud of you.”

Femi nodded as though the pastor could see him.

“Anyways, it’s good that you told me about it. Your situation is complex. But just like I always say, this is one of those times that your strength is tested. You need to put on the whole armour of God and increase your prayer level. If you’re going to Ogun to fight that war just like your father said, you’ll be needing every resource you can get. I’ll be interceding for you from this end. That way, we can be sure of victory. The wallet saga is a sure sign that there’s an abundance of divine intervention.”

“Thank you so much pastor for your time.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night rest.”

“Bye, sir.”

He wearily dropped the phone on the bed, ruminated on the pastor’s words for a while and returned to the pot of rice. Then, he heard the sound of a message dropping into his phone.

He quickly retrieved the phone. It was his mother.

“I’ll be in Ibadan tomorrow. I thought to visit you since you wouldn’t come visiting.” He read the content of the message and smiled. Surely, everything was happening as God had planned.

Femi prostrated before his mother in a white singlet and boxers when she arrived at his gate early in the next morning. His very beautiful mother smiled as she retied her wrapper. The taxi driver dropped a heavy sack beside her before he drove off.

“What are these mum?” Femi asked, pointing at the sack.

“I know that you don’t know how to cook anything except rice, but don’t worry. Everything here is for a change,” she replied to him as she patted the sack.

“But mummy…?” he said as he thought about his father’s request.

“What’s wrong, Femi? You don’t want them?”

“I want  them but I need to discuss something with you quickly.”

“Let’s go to your room, or do you intend to keep me standing here forever?”

“I’m sorry ma,” Femi said as he led the way to his room, the sack on his shoulders.

His mother sighed after hearing Bimbo’s intriguing story. Femi had gotten better at storytelling overnight. She had her eyes fixed on the curtain by the window as she thought about what she had heard.

“Then, how is the girl? Can we go visit her now?” she asks, compassion for Bimbo overwhelming the fact that she was a step-daughter she had never met.

Femi’s face lit up as he dressed up. He and his mother were going to visit Bimbo, and the way things looked, she was going to take care of Bimbo as her daughter. He was suddenly feeling like a character in a Mount Zion movie.

Read previous chapter here


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