Lonely Heart: Heart Series, #2

By Vida Li Sik

Trust can't grow on lies

Making up for lost time brings Savanna to the Ivory Coast. Work. Adventure. New people. After serving time in jail, she's ready to seize it all and start on a blank slate. When she meets a businessman, Alexander, Savanna sees the life she always longed for. But her past struggles and guilt keep rising to the surface. Healthy relationships with her brother and mother remain a struggle. And love and new friendships can't grow when she keeps the door to parts of her life shut. What happens when that door won't stay closed? Can Savanna find the happiness she craves when her past threatens to derail her fragile new relationship with Alexander?

Alex arrives back home to take care of the family business while his father regains his health. He resents having to keep his ex-fiancée's secret from his family. Savanna is unlike any woman he's ever met, and he pursues her. Will the mystery of her background cause a permanent wedge between them, or will Alex give her a second chance?

If you like stories about family, forgiveness, and second chances in life, you'll enjoy this book.

 

**I like stories that show the vulnerability of their main characters—Hawkeye (Reviewer)

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vida Li Sik
• Release date: Feb 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393893714

Vida Li Sik

Vida Li Sik is a wife, mother, award-winning journalist and multi-genre author. She grew up in a small town, Nigel, in sunny South Africa. Together with her family, she is actively involved in a youth and family ministry in Johannesburg, the City of Gold. She has no pets and has yet to find a weird and wonderful hobby. In the meantime, she loves to write about people, real ones and imagined.  For updates, contact Vida through her website: https://www.vidalisik.com/ or on social media. She would love to hear from you. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vidalswriter Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vidalisik Twitter: https://twitter.com/vidalisik

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Vida Li Sik

Copyright © 2020 Vida Li Sik

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

(Email Vida Li Sik at [e-mail] or visit www.vidalisik.com for more information)

(Cover Image: Pexel, Gustovo Almeida)

Cover Art: Leenna Naidoo

(British spelling is used throughout this book.)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Behind every author is a team of amazing people. I’d like to extend a big thank you to all my friends—too many to mention by name—who helped with the development, editing, and legal fact checks of this story.

I appreciate the generosity of your time, encouragement and support. Any remaining infelicities are mine alone.

GLOSSARY

South African English

Bushed – tired

City of Gold – Johannesburg, also known as Joburg, Jozi or iGoli.

Hooter – car horn

Jam – a spread made with whole or cut up fruit; similar to jelly

Lager – effervescent beer

Pavement – sidewalk

Serviette – napkin

Mopani worm – spotted caterpillar that’s a type of food in some regions in Southern Africa

French

Alors – So

Allons-y! – Let’s go

Bonjour – Good day

Monsieur. – Sir, Mr.

Ça va? Is it going well?

C’est bon. – It’s good/fine

Ce n’est pas, possible! It’s impossible.

Chef de mission – head of a diplomatic mission

Chéri – (m), Chérie (f) term of endearment meaning ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’

D’accord – okay

Enfant terrible – a difficult child

Excusez-moi!" – Excuse me

Excusez-nous – Excuse us

Gbakas – mini-buses

Joie de vivre – enjoyment of life

Mademoiselle – Miss

Maman – mother

Ma petite – my little

Metis – mixed race person

Mon frère – my brother

N’est-ce pas – isn’t it so?

Non, merci – no, thank you

Non – isn’t it so?

On dit quoi? A very Ivorian expression, meaning what’s up?

Quelle surprise – What a surprise

Oui – yes

Une crise de panique – a panic attack

Un peu fou – crazy

Venez! – come

Chapter One

If looks could kill , then Daouda Dervain’s corpse would be marked out on the floor. Savanna’s eyes shot daggers at him in their standoff. The air conditioner hummed in the background, the only audible sound in their house in Deux Plateaux, Abidjan.

Say that again, Daouda.

Savanna only used her brother’s full name, instead of the affectionate Yoda, when she was angry with him. She sat back and folded her arms across her chest.

For the first time since her arrival from Johannesburg, South Africa, Savanna felt combative. The last time she was involved in a stand-off was nine months ago, with her arch-enemy in Freetown Prison. She dismissed the memory with a shake of her head. This was her sibling, not Karabo.

Daouda loosened the top button of his shirt and cleared his throat. I don’t think you should attend the meeting with Mr Berger.

She jerked up and the chair scraped over the tiles. Savanna paced like a caged animal, her fists clenched by her side. She hated that he remained calm while she felt ready to explode. Only the muscle ticking in his cheek betrayed his unease.

Savanna spoke through clenched teeth. I want to make sure I understand. For six months, I slogged over the financials for your venture here in Cote d’Ivoire. Now I must step aside and you’ll meet the Frenchman alone. I deserve to know why.

Daouda owned a mobile phone company in South Africa. He wanted to expand his business to West Africa by partnering with a local businessman. Savanna’s extensive work has cleared the way for the acceptance of their offer. Only a few loose strings remained before sealing the deal.

Her brother spread out his hands. He opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. There was wariness in his dark eyes.

You did a great job, considering—

She stared at him. Considering what?

That you’ve had a lot of things to catch up on. Daouda moved towards her but halted as she stepped back. Mr Berger is old-school, Sav. He’s conservative but an astute observer. I fear he’ll ask too many questions.

About what? You can spit it out. Savanna resumed her pacing.

Her brother hesitated but ploughed on. About the gaps in your life, before your time with my company. It might make him skittish about dealing with Afrique Mobile.

She knew exactly what he was referring to. A flicker of pain crossed her features as she took a step towards him.

You’re ashamed of me.

Savanna’s voice dropped to a whisper. A couple more steps placed her right in front of her brother. She grabbed him by the arms, and sought confirmation as their eyes locked. He looked away first.

Savanna punched him on the arm.

Admit it. Having a former jailbird by your side cramps your business style. I get it.

Tears pricked her eyes. She sniffed and ignored them. Less than a metre separated them but the gulf between them has never been wider.

Daouda stepped away from her confrontational stance and blew out an exasperated breath. It’s not like that and you know it.

She turned away and threw up her hands. Do I? The courts have set aside my conviction. That’s how I was able to leave the country to come here.

Savanna resumed her pacing. Twenty-seven weeks have passed since I applied to have my criminal record expunged. Bureaucracy is a drag. She spun back to him and stabbed his chest once with her index finger. You know that.

Her legs felt like jelly so she sank down on the couch. Dropping her head, she fisted long strands of spiral curls.

I know, Sav! You’ve done a tremendous job to get us this far.

Now he paced the room. He dragged his hand through his short, wiry hair, glanced at her once and then away. The siblings looked nothing alike. They shared the same mother, but brown-eyed Daouda resembled his Ivorian father—tall and muscular. At twenty-five, his smooth caramel skin showed off a dimple in his right cheek whenever he smiled. Three years older, Savanna inherited her German biological father’s lighter hair, complexion, and moss green eyes.

I fear that your time in jail could prejudice the deal if Mr Berger finds out. We’re so close. I don’t want to jeopardise it with unnecessary complications. Let’s put off a meeting between you two until we’ve got his signature on the contract.

Savanna’s head shot up and she glared at him. "Come on! Your name is on the contract, not mine. We don’t need to reveal my role if it worries you so much."

He frowned at her sarcasm but remained silent.

She continued. If pressed, we could say I acted as an outside consultant—

Her brother’s eyes widened. He bit his lip, but stayed mute.

When she could bear the tension no more, Savanna slapped her knees and jumped up. You know what? I can tell I’m not wanted and won’t beg to stay. She stormed off towards the staircase.

His raised voice made her pause at the bottom step. Where are you going?

To the bungalow. I can’t stay here another minute. Clearly, I’m surplus to requirements.

That’s ridiculous and not what I said. Don’t be so hot-headed, Sav! He yelled as she ignored him. With her head held high she mounted the stairs.

Hot tears hovered on her eyelashes as Savanna threw a few items of clothing into an overnight bag and grabbed toiletries from the adjoining bathroom. She raced downstairs and aimed to pass her brother.

Daouda grabbed her arm to halt her progress. With a frown, he looked at his mobile phone that he’d just disconnected.

Mr Berger won’t be at tomorrow’s meeting.

Savanna remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

He had a mild heart attack two weeks ago, so he’s sending a representative. Thank goodness, he’s still committed to finalising our deal this week. I can’t afford any delays. Daouda tossed his phone from one hand to the other as if weighing up his options.

Her ambitious brother already had partnerships in several southern and east African countries. He appeared set on conquering this part of the continent too.

Savanna hardened her heart and feigned indifference. So? Why are you telling me this? I won’t be part of it anyway.

Her brother pursed his lips at the reminder. His eyes fell on the bag in her hand, and the tone of his voice sharpened. When will you be back?

Tomorrow night. Maybe. She stomped off without waiting for his response.

∞∞

Ten minutes later Savanna crossed the bridge over the lagoon towards Bassam, a coastal town. The automatic transmission in her car boosted her confidence. She needed every bit as she battled for space alongside gbakas—mini-buses—and buses heading out of the city. The fresh air from the vehicle’s air-conditioner shielded her from the black, noxious fumes outside. Driving on the right-hand side of the road still felt like the wrong side to her. She cursed under her breath as she battled the peak-hour traffic. She wasn’t the only one desperate to escape to the sea.

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. A maelstrom of emotions churned inside her. Anger. Anxiety. A desire to lash out. It’s not fair. No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape her past. No matter what she did, her past followed her around like a hungry dog. At every turn she took, every step in the right direction, a reminder of her five years behind bars inevitably popped up.

The sweet smell of fruit attracted her attention. Her gaze dropped down and spotted the little packet of dried banana slices she bought that morning outside the language school. With its sweet smell came a flood of uncomfortable memories of what happened in her French class.

An awful first day at school feeling had stolen over Savanna the minute she had stepped into the Abidjan Language Institute. It had intensified after the first introductions. By the time the students grabbed their belongings two hours later, it had solidified. Lying—or whatever you chose to call it—would do that to you.

At first, she felt excited to meet the nine other expats in the room. The women came from English-speaking countries around the globe. What a great way to make new friends, she thought. After all, they were all keen to improve their communication with the locals. They exchanged names and their goals for the class. For Savanna, it was a refresher course in Henri Dervain, her late adoptive father’s native language. She hadn’t used French since childhood.

The questions on what she did now and before arriving in the country, made her hesitate.

Savanna’s blush deepened as she looked into the friendly blue eyes of Kate Evans, a woman from Birmingham, England, who waited on her response.

She stuttered. Umm, I–, I’m helping my brother. He’s setting up a new business here.

Of course Kate then wanted to know what kind of business it was. Her interest waned a bit when she heard it involved mobile phone handsets.

What did you do before you got here?

I–, I lived in a gated community in Johannesburg, South Africa, and taught English to a few women between my studies for an MBA, she spluttered.

Savanna’s cheeks turned pink. She found it hard to lie. But in a way, it was the truth. She was only economical with the details. The high fences, locked gates and cells did make Freetown Prison a gated community of sorts. And no-one needed to know the women she taught English to were inmates. Right?

Even so, having to share information about her background spooked her. Women wanted details. Too many aspects of her prior life shamed Savanna. So with regret, she declined Kate’s invitation to join her and two other British women for iced coffee at a new mall. She had stared after their taxi with longing in her eyes. The freedom to choose the company she kept and what she ate or drank was something she revelled in.

She wanted to fit in. To be able to do normal activities that others took for granted. Yet, until she figured out how to do small talk with some comfort, she couldn’t relax. Her regret about missing out on expanding her social circle made her tetchy. Without a doubt, it contributed to how her next conversation with Daouda collapsed.

When she got home, she hastened to join her brother for lunch. She perked up when the housekeeper offered to dish up some poulet yassa for her. The fragrant aroma of the chicken, onion and olives reminded her of her late adoptive father. It was the dish he’d made best. Her mood soured as soon as Daouda asked if she had made any new friends in class.

She’d stalled her response. Those women are very nosy. I didn’t know what to say, as I don’t have kids or husband to talk about.

Daouda looked at her, weighing up his words.

You must persevere, Sav! You need friends and new interests. I’d worry less if you did.

Her eyes narrowed. I’m helping you with work, aren’t I?

His assurance that he appreciated her