Claire's Prayer by Yvonne Cloete

Author:Yvonne Cloete [Cloete, Yvonne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Books & Bibles, Literature & Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Religion & Spirituality, Fiction, Religious & Inspirational Fiction, Inspirational, Christianity, Christian Fiction
Amazon: B00II99IVW
Goodreads: 21461642
Publisher: Orchard Wall Publishing
Published: 2014-02-16T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.

(Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Impunzi

Back at Impunzi, Seth ate a solitary dinner and cursed his inability to settle down to anything productive. He’d spent the day aimlessly driving around the ranch achieving nothing, his mind filled with images of Claire. Groundless anger burned inside him, but he was not even sure where he was directing it. At himself, for being bowled over by Claire? Naomi, whom he could cheerfully throttle for taking Claire away? Or Claire herself? If she were here right now, he thought, he could vent his anger either by a rip-roaring argument, or… Seth furiously broke off the trend of his thoughts. Realising too late the route they were taking him, he cursed softly. As angry as he was, he could not stop his thoughts.

This pattern had been played out countless times as his hands had gripped his steering wheel. Claire walked stubbornly back through his mind in technicolor glory: images of her, the feel of her, the subtle scent of her, the way she fit against him – it all filtered through his attempts at concentration elsewhere. Cursing his vivid imagination, and the insistent ache in his body, Seth stalked over to the bar and extracted the first bottle his fingers touched. Switching on the television, needing the noise, he proceeded to finish the half bottle of whisky, desperate to numb himself.

Much later, the blank television screen hissing in the eerie half-darkness, Seth lay slumped against the sofa. The oblivion he had hoped to find in the alcohol had proved unattainable. Even with an aching head and dulled senses, he found images of Claire ambushed him whenever he closed his eyes. Groaning loudly, he dropped the almost empty glass he’d been clutching, mindless of the liquid spilling onto the rug. Stumbling, he clicked off the television, and then groped his way upstairs to fall fully clothed onto his bed. Haphazardly pulling the blanket over himself, Seth gave in to the drugged sleep that finally claimed him.

Joseph rang the breakfast gong at the usual time the next morning. When Seth had still not appeared after the third gong, Joseph decided that he had better find out what was wrong. Cautiously entering the lounge, he wrinkled his nose delicately and, shaking his head, he picked up the empty whisky bottle and the glass. He would have to scrub the rug with disinfectant to get the smell of the alcohol out of it. Clutching the bottle, he climbed the stairs.

Sometimes, Joseph really didn’t understand how his boss’s head worked. It was funny, this relationship he had with Seth and Naomi – he’d watched them grow up and, especially now, felt they needed looking after with more than just food. As they themselves often said, they were his family. And still, he couldn’t understand: why did Seth complicate everything, when things were as plain as the nose on his face? In Joseph’s culture, you didn’t play games.

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