CHAPTER FOUR
1361 Words
WHEN HE SPOKE
“Good morning, Mr. Donald,” called a familiar voice from outside.
Mr. Donald stepped out to see Sani, the farm manager, smiling in his van.
“ Good morning Sani! It’s nice to see you. What brings you here this early? I hope all is well,” Mr. Donald asked.
“All is well, sir. I came to deliver these.” Sani opened the back of the van and brought out two baskets overflowing with colorful fruits. “It’s been a while since you visited the farm, so I thought to bring some over, especially knowing how much Storm loves fruit.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Mr. Donald said, visibly touched. “My late wife always said you were the right man to manage the farm. Thank you.”
Sani smiled. “Give my regards to the girls. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Safe journey. And please greet everyone at the farm for me.”
Back in the kitchen, Chloe and Storm were busy preparing breakfast, beans cake with warm custard.
“Look what I got this morning!” Mr. Donald said, entering with the baskets.
“Yay! I want fruit for breakfast!” Storm shouted, reaching for one.
“Don’t you want what I’m cooking?” Chloe teased.
“I’ll eat that too. But this one’s the appetizer!”
She turned to her father. “Papa, when did you go to the farm? I left you outside just a few minutes ago!”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I was reading when Mr. Sani drove in with these baskets.”
Storm hugged a mango. “Mr. Sani always thinks of me! Thank you, Mr. Sani, wherever you are!”
Mr. Donald chuckled.
“Chloe, please take one of the fruit baskets to George and send him my regards,” he said.
“Okay, Papa.”
George was Mr. Donald’s childhood friend. As Chloe and Storm arrived at his house, he greeted them with open arms.
“My favorite nieces!”
“Uncle George, our father asked us to bring this and send his regards,” Chloe said as she dropped a basket of fruit.
“Oh, my good friend. How is he?”
“He’s well, thank you.”
“Where’s Aunty?” Chloe asked.
“She stepped out for a moment. Didn’t you see her on the way?”
“No, Uncle.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries and were soon on their way back home.
That was when Storm ever curious started again.
“Sister Chloe, how did Papa and Uncle George become friends?”
“Well,” Chloe began, smiling, “according to Mama, Papa and Uncle George were neighbors. Both were only children, so they became like brothers. It was even Uncle George who introduced Papa to Mama.”
“Really?” Storm’s eyes sparkled. “So he’s like our honorary uncle?”
“Exactly. More like a brother from another mother.”
They laughed.
Storm paused. “Why do I feel like that man is following us?”
Chloe glanced behind them.
“I noticed he’s been staring at you ever since we passed, and now he is following us” Storm added.
“Are we safe or should we call for help?”
“You talk too much for your age,” Chloe said. “There are other people walking this road, you know.”
“But he’s looking at you. I know what I saw.” said Storm
“I’m not having this conversation with you, little girl.”
“I’m not a little…”
Just then, a deep, smooth voice echoed behind them. “Hello, beautiful ladies.”
The moment Chloe heard his voice, her mouth dropped open slightly, she lost her voice and froze at the same time. Something in her stilled, captivated,starstruck.
Chloe’s mind raced wild, vivid thoughts, each one more enchanting than the last.
Storm noticed her sister’s reaction and her mouth curved into a smile.
“Hello, stranger,” she said boldly.
“You two look so beautiful, more like the fallen angels” said the stranger with a smile
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”asked Storm
“Of all the beautiful things in the world, you decided to compare us to fallen angels really?” asked Storm
The man laughed gently
Chloe came back to her senses frowned, stepping protectively in front of Storm.
“Fallen angels?” she asked. “Is that the best comparison you have?”
Before she could say more, Storm chimed in: “The only reason I’m responding is because I like your voice.”
The man squatted to her level, a twinkle in his eye. “My name is Michael.
Michael Jose. But my friends call me Mick.”
Storm grinned. “My name is Storm. But I’ll call you Stranger because you sound strange.”
Before she could say more, Chloe gently pulled her away. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jose,” she said politely. “We need to get going.”
As they walked off, Chloe hissed, “You can’t just tell strangers your name!”
“But I like his voice. And I know you do too,” Storm replied cheekily.
“ You see,” Storm said, folding my arms and shaking my head ever so slightly. “I knew what I saw when I said the man had been looking at you ever since we passed by. But did you believe me? No.
You brushed it off like I was just saying nonsense.
As if I was imagining things. But let me tell you something, don’t let my size deceive you. I may be small, but I am very sharp. In fact, sharper than most people twice my age.”
Chloe walked a few steps ahead, then turned to look at her again, a smirk creeping onto Storm's face. “You don’t have to believe me, but I see things exactly the way they are. Not the way people want them to look, not the way they try to hide them. The truth. The raw, plain truth.”
Storm tapped her temple and continued, “My eyes are not just for decoration. They don’t miss a thing. I saw the way his head turned. Slowly, like he didn’t want anyone to notice.
But I noticed. I saw the way he looked at you, like someone who had just seen something too good to be true.
You may not have looked, but I saw it. He wasn’t just passing time. His eyes followed you all the way down the road.”
Storm chuckled and added, “But you go ahead, keep doubting me. When you find a note tucked into your handbag or your phone starts ringing with an unknown number, just remember who told you first. Me. The ‘small’ one with the big eyes.”
Chloe glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I saw how starstruck you were when he greeted us. He looked right at you the first time we passed, he followed us for you!”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Don’t bring this up again when we get home, understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Storm said dramatically, saluting.
“I’m serious!”
Storm zipped her lips. “Sealed.”
That night, Chloe tossed and turned. She couldn’t stop thinking about that voice, that face, the way the world had quieted the moment he spoke. His presence lingered in her mind like perfume.
Two weeks later…
Chloe was asked to help Uncle George’s wife, who had fallen ill. She packed a few things with a basket of fruit, part of her filled with nerves. But the other part… the one she refused to admit out loud… was hoping.
Hoping she’d see him again. Hoping she hadn’t imagined how he made her feel.
As she passed the same bend where they'd first met him, she slowed, heart racing slightly.
Nothing.
Her shoulders dropped.
Then
That voice.
The same deep, warm voice she hadn’t been able to forget.
“Hello, beautiful.”
- Writer
