A doctor had a drip set on Shakira’s arm and told Dele she would soon sleep it off. “It’s quite normal for one to have these symptoms in cases of extreme panic attack.”
“Thank you, doctor.” He stared at Shakira, who blinked several times. “I was afraid she would lapse into a full-blown mental attack.”
The doctor, a man in his fifties, or perhaps a little older, nodded. “Thank God it didn’t degenerate. Try and be here when she wakes up to reassure her.”
“I will, doctor. Thank you.”
He walked with the doctor out of the guest room. Pastor Goodwill had put them in his house after Veronica called him to come to their aid. Dele had struggled to control Shakira for several minutes without success as she pushed him off and threw things around the house. When a side stool hit the wooden entrance door and splintered the cheap wood, Veronica called for help.
“I have spoken to Pastor Goodwill. Our land is not so safe. He must get armed protection for you both.” The doctor clasped his hands. “How long will you be here?”
“I don’t know now. With this, she might just want us to return home right away.”
“I guess it will be the best thing.”
Dele sighed. “Thanks again, sir.”
They shook hands, and the doctor left. Dele sat on the only chair in the room and cursed every evil that ever existed.
He had been so elated, sure he’d be in Lagos now, talking to an immigration lawyer. His sisters might have been awful a lot, but he knew they would find money to help him get out of the country if he told them he had part of the money needed. America was the dream, and he planned to get there. Why would God deliver an American woman into his hands, when he wasn’t even praying for it? It wasn’t just a coincidence. This was what his pastor in Lagos called the hand of God. He would not lose focus.
With no money, he needed a new plan. Shakira had to cooperate and stay back a little longer. It was the only way they could get more easy money. Foul words sprang to his lips against the robbers who had taken more than money from him in the early hours of the morning. They had taken hope.
There was a soft knock, and the door opened. Pastor Goodwill walked in with a crease on his forehead.
“Doctor said she was sleeping.”
The two men watched Shakira, whose eyes were open but drowsy.
“She will wake soon.”
Pastor Goodwill sat. “I’m so sorry about your experience. We have sent the seven curses to the thieves. They will not run far.”
Dele stifled a chuckle. “Seven curses?”
“Yes. We have what is called the seven curses prayer. The vicious prayer attacks every area of a culprit’s life.”
“We are asked to pray for those who despitefully use us, man of God.”
“The Bible also says we should suffer not a witch to live.”
Dele deferred. “You are the great man of God. We are just missionaries.”
“Doctor said you might be leaving soon.”
Dele sighed. “Yes, pastor. Once she’s fit to travel, I think the best thing is to leave.”
He hated to think it, but with the little display of hysteria, Shakira may not be controlled next time. He may not get any money to pursue his dream, but he’d rather leave Efayaw with a good name. He knew people around here could be vicious, and he wasn’t about to be a victim.
“The devil is a liar! No. No, sir.” Pastor Goodwill paced. “I have spoken to Sister Veronica. Her brother is in the army. We will get the army to come here and follow you about.”
Dele smirked. “Will it work? The armed robbery shook my wife up. She has never experienced anything like this.”
“I can imagine. But we thank God for His mercy.” The pastor sighed. “We have made a police report. They will catch all of them. Dead or alive.”
“I pray so.”
“I’m not sure your wife can preach this evening.”
“Not at all.”
“And you, sir?”
Dele arched his eyebrow. “We must preach in season and out of season.”
Pastor Goodwill clapped. “Glory be to God. I told the police you cannot give any statement and would rather not see anyone, so they are talking to Veronica.”
“She was rather shaken up.”
“Yes. We just thank God they did not hurt anyone.”
“The money they took can be replaced.”
Pastor Goodwill nodded. “By the grace and mercy of God.” He studied Shakira, whose eyes were closed. “The devil has been put to shame. All of this was to frustrate your mission, but he has failed.”
“Indeed.”
“I will excuse you now. We will serve lunch at about three and leave for church at five.”
“Okay, man of God.”
At the door, Pastor Goodwill clasped his hands. “Thanks again for the powerful service last night.”
Dele nodded. Shakira had spoken with passion and tears in her eyes. He had never heard any message so moving. He was almost convinced.
After Pastor Goodwill left, Dele walked over to the bed and pored over Shakira. She breathed evenly and seemed at peace. The best thing was to let her go. He had been at this brink before. His pastor called it a “near-success syndrome.” Several times in his life, he’d been so close to getting something he wanted so much, then something would go wrong and he’d lose it.
He could never forgive himself if Shakira stayed back against her wishes and got kidnapped or killed. A lot about her life remained hidden from him, and he would love to meet her husband and give him a punch on his face for allowing her to come on her own, but that might never happen.
Once she woke up, he would make a new plan with her. He’d ask Pastor Goodwill for some money, and they would leave the following morning. If America was in his destiny, it would come to pass sometime.