“I can understand your grief would only be compounded in such a place.”
He then looked at Nicole knowingly and added, while Ethan furrowed his brow just barely:
“Nicole has been doing this for a long time, it’s part of who she is. It’s not an easy life, especially for someone like you, I would imagine,” Father Likembe said, clearing his throat and straightening his back at the same time. He leaned closer to Ethan who was sitting to his left and said with a clean, hearty voice as if preaching:
“Do not feel unwanted or unwelcome, my son. It would be for the best if you coped with this in your own terms, in your own manner. I know your heart is in the right place, but your soul needs to heal away from all this misery.”
Nicole looked at Ethan with a warm gaze, her lips pursed together in a show of sympathy. Ethan glanced at the mass of refugees sitting in large rough benches made out of trees. He nodded then and said:
“You mean I’m responsible for these poor bastards, right? That’s what a soldier does, is it not?”
Father Likembe shook his head with a deep frown, his voice calm and quiet:
“I never said that, Ethan. I mean well, I simply think this isn’t the right place or way for you to mourn.”
Nicole searched for Ethan’s face with her own, a set of begging, weary eyes fluttering frantically:
“Andy would have stayed. Isn’t that right?”
The gall of that woman, Ethan thought.
“Yes, he would have. But that’s not the issue, is it? You think I’m trouble, both of you.”
“I think you are troubled my son and nothing more.”
“Well, if it’s all the same to you then I’m staying too.”
Nicole’s eyes flashed and went wide for the tiniest moment, before a thin smile formed on her face. She glanced at the priest and said then:
“If it’s alright with Father Likembe… Still, you shouldn’t stay just because you think Andy would have wanted you to take his place. He is a different kind of person, there’s nothing wrong with that. You can still help in other ways, Ethan. There’s no shame in going home.”
“’Was’ a different kind of person. He was a different kind of person, Nicole. Get used to it,” Ethan said hoarsely, got up from his chair and walked away into the crowd, looking hurt and irritated. Nicole shouted his name but he did not turn. When it seemed as if she’d go after him, Father Likembe took her by one hand and shook his head; his face turned suddenly worried, fearful.
“Don’t push him,” he said unevenly, while Nicole answered with a purposeful voice, “I’m not sure he is convinced. This isn’t like him at all.” Father Likembe’s eyes narrowed, his voice instinctively lowered to a whisper:
“I thought you were married to his brother. You’ve hardly met the man. Have you…?” He raised an eyebrow and fixed his glasses with one hand in a very bad attempt at conspiracy, only to have Nicole look at him sideways with a mock look of hurt and a sly grin.
“I don’t work like that. And it wouldn’t have worked on him, either.”
“How come?” said the priest looking at Ethan from afar with a penetrating, curious gaze.
“Because he loves his brother, if nothing else,” said Nicole, her face twisted with unwanted approval. Father Likembe closed his eyes and shook his head feverishly. He licked a drop of sweat on his upper lip and said with hushed, spurious undertones:
“Why is he so important?”
“He isn’t. But he’s prodding where he shouldn’t be. I’ve already lost valuable time, not to mention men, simply to get him off our backs. We need to keep the food and the medicine coming.”
“Alongside the guns, the bullets and the shells?” asked the father with a smile, his hands tracing the emptied tin cup of coffee in front of him, his eyes lost somewhere beyond the church grounds.
“It’s hard to win a war with nothing but empty hands and fiery rhetoric, isn’t it father?” replied Nicole, her eyes discreetly following Ethan around the crowd, while he had taken it upon himself to hand out biscuits to all the children. He seemed relaxed, faintly smiling out of sympathy. There was a deep, brewing sorrow on the rest of his face.
Father Likembe smiled thinly and said, “Sometimes, I’m not really sure which one of us works for the other.” He took off his glasses, placed them in his shirt’s pocket and massaged his eyes through shut eyelids. Nicole turned to face him with a sudden twist, as if her interest had been piqued out of nowhere in particular.
“Well, that’s because we’re supposed to be working together, father. Towards a common goal.”
“Protecting common interests, now perhaps that’s true. That’s what I had been led to believe as well,” he said and breathed deeply before he continued, “until I heard you killed Nebdele,” said the priest with eyes closed, his hands now lightly massaging his bald head. “I would hardly call that working together.”
“It’s getting to you, isn’t it? All this,” said Nicole and made a small circle with one hand. She drank a sip of coffee and went on, eyes level with the priest’s:
“Maybe you’re confused. It was unfortunate, but necessary. Things sometimes go wrong.”
The priest turned his gaze over to Ethan who was talking to a young amputee. “Was it him?” he asked, pointing his index finger lazily towards Ethan.
“No, it was me. He’d probably talk and that can easily get you killed,” said Nicole and lit up a cigarette casually. Father Likembe got up and stretched his back, before speaking as if to an invisible audience, hands crossed over his chest:
“I’ve been posing as the good Samaritan, smiling for the cameras and the journalists, fighting the good fight against hunger and sorrow like some kind of meek, weak puppet. We are not puppets, do you understand me?”
“It all happened really fast. I’m sure you can replace someone like Adu.”
“Damn you, Nicole! It’s not like there’s a real lot of us left!” spat out the priest and started to pace about the small patio.
“I think he was trying to haggle with me. Ask more in return for his little help.”
“And is that supposed to justify his death? He was invaluable, for God’s sake! His info and connections could have gotten us Onitsha back a lot easier. That might have turned the tide once more but now…” he said and shook his head with a frown upon his brow.
“It would be too late for that now, wouldn’t it?” replied Nicole with consternation. She then got up before she told him earnestly, without a hint of malice or threat in her voice:
“I have my orders as well. You understand that, don’t you father? There are things both of us have to endure. Especially you and your people. It’s how things are in the world my friend in need.”
“But at what cost?” he replied with weariness, his eyes red with sadness.
“What’s a life worth to you, father?” she asked him, her face intensely sweet and welcoming. Father Likembe looked her in the eye with a pained expression and said in a trembling voice:
“How I wish it were that simple.”
She smiled then mischievously and told him in a casual tone of voice:
“Don’t fret about it. I’ll know what to do with Ethan in the morning.”
“How will all this end, Nicole?” he asked resignedly. He went on and said, “How will all this play out, now that you had to kill Adu? Now that Onitsha is lost and the bombings go on and on. Now that there’s so few of us left,” his voice coarse and grainy.
“Faith, father. You’ve got to have faith,” she said flatly and walked away casually.