Jora

JORDAN'S  POV

    As Soon as I arrived at my family home in Abuja, I longed for my daughter like I hadn't seen her in years. 

  The longing was making me glancing at the door at intervals until mum eventually sent someone to fetch her.

   When my daughter Jora arrived, she looked taller than the last time I saw her. Her hair was blonde exactly like Rachel's and long as well.

  She is the spitting image of Rachel and each time I see her, it makes me feel like I am staring at my wife. 

  How can someone look so much like her mother? She has my eyes, that I already know but besides that there was no other thing I could count on.

  She saw me and threw herself in my arms screaming "daddy, daddy!!" She was happy.

   I am happy too. I am home, everyone loves to return home after work and I am not an exception.

  "Jora!" I called, holding her close to myself. I love her a lot, as much as I love Rachel. 

  I called her Jora. Taking the first two letters of my name and the first two letters of Rachel's name. Each time I call her name, I feel sweet within me.

  Though Rachel is no longer with us, we are going to keep loving her. She would be happy whenever she looks down from above and sees how much I love our daughter.

   Rachel was my childhood sweetheart. But she died while in the cause of my duty. She was kidnapped and went into preterm labour.

   When I found her she had become so weak and upon arriving at the hospital, only the baby could be saved with the help of an incubator.

   But Rachel couldn't make it. She tried to live, held my hand and pleaded that I save our baby. 

 I had promised to save her and revenge whoever made her suffer like this, but in the lonely night of a Tuesday night, Rachel succumbed.

   "I miss you daddy," Jora screamed, positioning herself properly on my thighs. I kissed her temple and said I missed her more.

  My mum stood aside and watched us both. She was admiring the cordiality of our relationship. Though we don't get to see each other often, whenever we do, we are like a mother dog and her puppy.

   Jora kissed my chin, and stretched her little hand touching my long hair like she was some adult. She is like Rachel, just like her.

   Each time I am with Jora, I feel like experiencing Rachel's love and her presence seemed to be felt. The time I spend with my daughter is usually the best time spent since my wife's death.

   " So daddy, tell me, did you catch a lot of bad boys and girls?" She asked, narrowing her temple like an adult making inquiries.

   " I prosecuted some. But you see, those bad boys and girls would never stop being in society and that implies I will have to keep working to catch as many of them as I can.." I replied.

  "Oh! bad people. Do they have kids like me as well?" Jora asked. She frowned her face slightly, feeling irritated.

   "Yeah, baby. Some of them have kids like you but they may not tell their kids they do bad things" I replied to her.

  We were going to continue catching up on old times when mum interrupted us "There is a whole lot of time for you to chat. But now, the food would get cold.." mum called us over to have eehh I don't know if I am to call it lunch or dinner.

   Lunch time has passed and it's not yet dinner time. But I guess mum prepared the meal because of me, she wanted to welcome me properly.

   We got to the dinning and saw that mum had set the table. This was what the servants were supposed to do, but she chose to do it just to express her excitement that I am home.

   Rather than the normal canned or bottled juice, what mum pushed in front of me was a chilled freshly blended juice. 

  She must have harvested the fruits from the orchard and had it blended, refrigerated and waiting to serve it to me.

   I smiled and thanked her. I asked her why she should undergo such stress because of me. She replied and said it's because she can't keep her excitement bottled up but express it.

   I ate with Jora feeding her at intervals and putting more pieces of chicken on her plate. Soon she claimed she was full and I then concentrated on filling up my stomach.

  When we were done eating, I went to get her toys from the car. Jora was jumping for excitement. She hugged me and ran into the room calling her grandmother to see what I bought for her.

  Jora is five years old. But she gives the vibes of a more matured girl. She's capable of taking dull moments away and keeping one lively, a typical character of Rachel.

   Sometimes I won't feel like talking, but with Rachel or Jora, that doesn't work. Talking is compulsory and at such moments, I just listen and nod my head while the other party is talking.

It was while Jora went in to show her grandmother the toys that I bought for her that I heard the horn of a car at the gate.

  I guessed it's my dad. The securities opened the gate as two cars drove in.

  One was a Lamborghini and the other a Maybeach. I knew my father was in the Lamborghini and the others were occupied by his bodyguards.

   I can't really say I have a smooth relationship with my dad but we tolerate each other or better still, I have learnt to tolerate him.

   I stood and watched as four bodyguards stepped out of the Maybeach and from the Lamborghini, the co-pilot door was opened and another bodyguard stepped out, holding the door for my father Jackson Duro.

   He stepped out and glanced at me casually. Standing a few distance from his car. I walked up to him and greeted "welcome dad" 

  My father just nodded and walked away with his poker face. He had never approved of me being a detective. He claimed it's an insult to his personality.

   He claimed to have invested so much in me so that I can take over his political ambition later in life but I chose to go my way, tarnishing his image.

   How can it be heard that Senator Jackson Duro's son is a detective? He has his ambition and I have my own as well. 

  He felt it's an insult to him. But I refused to listen to him. And when he disapproved of my marriage with Rachel, I still chose to get married to her. 

   And that completely severed us. He never said anything about Rachel's death nor gave his condolences. He told my mother that since I have chosen to go my way, I should be able to bear my burdens alone.