A Christmas Miracle

By Amaka Azie

With a divorce court date fast approaching, Augusta's anxiety is through the roof. After being separated for over a year, she would see her husband again. Just seven months after serving him divorce papers.

She's been keeping a secret, which is now impossible to hide. Would he ignore the obvious and let the court case proceed smoothly?

 

Obinna Ilonze can't believe his eyes when he walks into the courtroom and sees his soon to be ex-wife. She is heavily pregnant.

Surely, she must be deluded to believe that she can pin this on him. Or is she? But as the impossible becomes more likely, will he finally accept that miracles exist?

 

A second chance romance around Christmas time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amaka Azie
• Release date: Dec 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223402244

Book preview

One

Something in her stomach fluttered. Like gas bubbling up a bottle of coke. Augusta Ilonze stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Time to get something to eat.

Like always, she arrived at work without eating breakfast, eager to organise her employees for the day.

As the owner of Venus Beauty Spa, one of the most popular hair, makeup, and spa salons in Onitsha, she had to maintain the quality of the services rendered here. Otherwise, she risked losing her loyal customers. And she couldn’t afford to. Not in this economy.

She rented the property, a three-room structure on the ground floor of a four-story building. Plus, the modern and high-tech equipment in her beauty salon was expensive to buy and maintain, so she had to maximise earnings.

To ensure optimal performance, she provided generous pay to her four loyal employees. Far better than they would earn anywhere else in this town. That involved a lot of slashes to her profit, so she didn’t take anything for granted.

Augusta consistently came in early, cleaned up, restocked products, and kept everyone on their toes.

Her hard work yielded results, with her clientele increasing by over threefold in the last three years. Customers came from all over Onitsha and nearby cities in eastern Nigeria for beauty treatments.

Their services included hair braiding, weave and wig installation, artificial eyelash insertion, nail fixing, eyebrow tweezing, facials, and makeup sessions for weddings and other events.

Last year, she’d made a profit of over four million, which even boosted her desire to keep up with her devotion to this business.

A line of work she’d never anticipated would be lucrative for her. Disappointed in her inability to secure a traditional 9-5 job with a philosophy degree, she embraced her passion for beauty and started her own business.

Thank goodness she had. She not only earned money, but also found joy in her job.

Even though she didn’t do most of the hair, makeup, or nails herself anymore, she still helped occasionally when the salon was busy, to minimise wait times.

Despite the strict policy of booking in advance, she couldn’t bear to turn away desperate drop-ins.

Augusta’s stomach fluttered again, causing a sigh to escape her lips.

She swept her gaze across the room until it landed on her youngest and newest employee.

"Precious, biko come," she said, beckoning the twenty-year-old over.

With an exaggerated sluggishness, Precious got up from her seat in the corner and ambled towards her.

Augusta suppressed a sigh. Since Precious came here as an apprentice three months ago, she’d shown no interest whatsoever in learning. Her minimal effort while present here matched her habit of arriving late.

Right now, two of the other employees, Lovett and Virginia, were attending to customers. While Lovett braided a woman’s hair, Virginia was in another room putting false eyelashes on a different client.

Ndidi was crafting a braided wig at the corner to be sold at the salon. Instead of shadowing any of the three girls, Precious sat idly, fixated on her phone. How on earth did she expect to make a good beautician with this attitude?

Such a shame.

Augusta hired her as a favour to her mother, who is a distant relative, solely for the purpose of teaching her a trade.

Aunty Nneoma claimed that Precious failed JAMB four times and lost interest in continuing her education.

Instead of sitting idly at home, she’d agreed to train her as a beautician.

However, Precious was showing no interest in learning that either.

Why are you just sitting idly and pressing your phone instead of learning work? she asked Precious.

I’ve been learning, ma, Precious answered, scratching her closely cropped hair.

Learning what? How to sit down?

No, ma. My legs were paining me. That’s why I sat down.

Hmm. Augusta shook her head. Just know that after six months, if you can’t contribute to this business, I’ll send you back to your mother in Nsukka. I can’t force you to do what you don’t want to do.

I’m sorry, ma. I want to learn.

Then apply yourself and keep watching Lovett, Ndidi and Virginia.

Yes, ma.

Augusta blew out a puff of air. She’d had this conversation many times with Precious. The girl appeared genuinely uninterested in her own future. All she cared about was her phone and social media. How unfortunate.

Leaning sideways in her chair, Augusta picked up her leather handbag and fished out her wallet. She peeled out three thousand naira notes and handed them to Precious. Biko, go and buy okpa for me. She darted her gaze around. Does anyone else want okpa?

After receiving a resounding chorus of yeses from her employees, she added, Buy for everyone, including yourself.

Thanks, ma, Precious said as she took the money from her and strolled out.

Augusta rose and made her way across the room towards Lovett. Her ever-efficient employee was already halfway done braiding a woman’s hair. Augusta greeted the customer who was reading a book, then turned her attention to inspect Lovett’s handwork.

Beautiful, she exclaimed, radiating with pride. So neat, Lovette. Very well done.

Thank you, ma, said Lovett with a shy smile.

Let me help you out with picking the attachment, Augusta said, settling on the seat next to them.

Lovett gave her a grateful smile. Augusta knew the difficulty of braiding hair and separating hair extensions from the bunch as well. It slowed the process down by far. Sometimes, customers helped. Most times, they couldn’t care less.

Augusta cast another look at the young woman seated on the chair. She was obviously more absorbed in her book than in her hair.

Whistling softly, Augusta began to peel out sections of the 18-inch Brazilian human hair, hooking them on the braid rack. She spaced them apart to make sure they didn’t tangle.

A few minutes later, Precious returned with her food, and Augusta settled behind the counter to enjoy it.

She loved okpa. The eastern Nigerian snack made of Bambra nuts was her beloved indulgence.

While doing a one-year beauty school training in Lagos, she missed them so much that she regularly had some shipped from the east to her.

After eating, she went back to work, this time helping Ndidi with braiding the wig.

Just moments of settling down to her task, Augusta felt another flutter in her stomach.

Ahn ahn. What was going on? She paused midway through a long box braid and placed her palm against her tummy.

Aunty, is everything fine? Ndidi asked her, concern in her eyes.

Augusta nodded. Yes. I’m fine. My stomach is doing me somehow. Like I have excess gas.

Do you want me to bring you water?

No, Ndidi, I’m fine, she said, then continued braiding the hair strand attached to the wig cap sitting on a mannequin’s head.

However, the movement in her belly occurred again, stopping her in her tracks.

This time, Augusta kept herself still, waiting for it to reoccur. When it did, it was undeniable. There was something moving inside her stomach.

She experienced a sudden rush of fear, causing her heart to leap and her eyes to widen. I need to go home, she said to Ndidi, who stared at her with a strange expression.

Are you okay, Aunty Augusta? Ndidi asked as Augusta stood from her seat.

Yes, but my stomach is upset.

Augusta walked over to Lovett, who was dipping the customers’ fully braided hair into a bowl of hot water to tighten the ends.

I have to go home early, she said to her. Please text me an update of our earnings later today.

Lovett’s eyes clouded with concern. Is everything okay, Aunty?

Augusta nodded vigorously. Yes, she said, although her heart was beating fast in her chest. My stomach is a little upset.

"Sorry, o. Just go home. I’ll take care of everything and text you later."

Augusta smiled at Lovett with gratitude. Ever since she started working here seven years ago as a naïve 20-year-old, Lovette has been a dedicated employee. Her enthusiasm for learning and teaching new skills was so great that she could confidently say this place wouldn’t be the same without her.

Her hard work earned her higher pay and a managerial position.

Thank you, Lovett, Augusta said, then strolled back to the corner of the room where she had carved out an office.

The table curved against the wall, leaving a narrow space for her to pass through and close the wooden gate. She picked up her bag resting on the table and logged out of the desktop computer.

Lovett was the only one able to log in since the computer held all the business data and Augusta didn’t want anyone else to access it.

After letting all the other girls know she was off home, she strolled out of the building and walked to the carpark.

She unlocked her Toyota Camry and slid inside. Releasing a breath, she leaned back in her seat and remained completely still.

She placed her hand on her lower tummy and waited.

When she felt the rumble in her stomach again, she sat upright. This was not just gas. Something was definitely moving inside her.

She shook her head. A baby? How? No. Not possible. It was all in her imagination. She couldn’t be pregnant.

Impossible. For fifteen years of marriage, she tried unsuccessfully to conceive naturally. After three failed sessions of IVF, she’d given up. Everything. Including her marriage to a man she loved with all her heart.

No! It couldn’t be. No way she could be pregnant. Had to be her original suspicion. Gas in her tummy. Or … her heart sank. An illness. Cancer?

Shaking her head again, she switched on the engine. Only one way to find out. And she needed to do it soon.

Turning on the ignition, she drove to the nearest pharmacy and picked up several pregnancy tests.

She bit down on her lower lip nervously as she paid for the items. So strange to be doing this again.

Since her separation from Obinna, she had not purchased one. In a fit of frustration, she’d tossed out all the pregnancy tests and fertility tracking items she had.

The tools she used to help her conceive controlled her life for years. Ovulation sticks. Basal temperature thermometers. Period trackers. Vaginal PH sticks. All futile. None had helped her.

When she’d emptied the trash into the general collection bin, she’d felt relief wash over her. She had finally put an end to it all. Accepted her fate. She was never to be a mother. Never to have her own children.

Although she wasn’t against adoption, she wasn’t open to it either. It didn’t matter how many times Obinna had told her he wanted to adopt a baby; she couldn’t seem to see that as an alternative. She wanted a child of her own, growing in her body.

Even his suggestion to use a surrogate hadn’t appealed to her. Then, she felt consumed by the desire to be pregnant, to a point where it clouded everything else. Pushed her into depression. Made her push Obinna away.

Since she couldn’t give him a child the way she wanted to, she’d detached from him. Their marriage, and their love. Their separation had happened gradually until she pulled the plug completely by moving out of their house.

She shook her head, her heart heavy with regret as she drove into the compound of her twin brother’s duplex home.

As soon as Augusta parked, she bounded out of the car and dashed into the boy’s quarters where she lived. It was a smaller two-bedroom bungalow behind the house, with a kitchenette and a living room.

This wasn’t her choice of accommodation, but she had no alternative that wouldn’t cause problems with her family.

Her decision