Scandal of Grace E-Book

Esther Olayemi Thomas

• Herausgeber: COMMUNE WRITERS INT'L
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Someone once said, “Don’t just respect crowns. Respect scars.” This is what the book, Scandal of Grace is about – walking you through a process of a grace so scandalous, yet unbelievably beautiful on the other side.

Grace Alexander, our main character, is wary of everyone who comes into her life, after a series of very traumatic events. She battles with the definition of her identity, and what part God is to play in her story. She navigates her teenage years with her two best friends, Claudia, and Jeremiah, until she meets Stephen.

There’s a lot of drama in Grace’s class. Her past remains a mystery until an inevitable moment of truth. Claudia holds a grudge. Grace struggles with her newfound reality, as life seems unfair.

Is there truly a God? Does happiness really exist or is it only a facade? How will Grace come to terms with the truth? How will her friends accept this change?

Join me on this journey of a teenager’s self-discovery.

Leseprobe

SCANDAL OF GRACE

WRITTEN BY

ESTHER OLAYEMI THOMAS

[email protected]

COPYRIGHT © 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author or publisher.

Published by:

COMMUNE WRITERS INT’L

www.communewriters.com

[email protected]

[phone]

6, Amusa Street, Agodo-Egbe, Lagos

Published and Printed in the Federal Republic of Nigeria

DEDICATION

To my Emma, unborn, an answer to prayers.

To my Stephen, unknown, my Christ in man.

To my Mum, who sat and watched my infant’s head.

To my Dad, who made my welfare a priority.

To God, whose grace is sufficient always.

These pages remind me of you.

FOREWORD TO SCANDAL OF GRACE

By Victor James W. 

(Resident Content Writer, WriteOnPress Inc., Los Angeles, USA)

I consider it a great honour to write the foreword of this inspiring book of hope, love and grace. When the author, Yemi, asked me to take up this privilege, I had to spend a lot of time thinking about the words that would be sufficiently fitting for the immense value of the book and its author.

Scandal of Grace, as the title suggests, is a novel that delves into the profound exploration of grace—grace that transcends societal norms, grace that navigates the challenges of adolescence, and grace that binds the characters in a cord of divine love. This is more than a story— it is an exploration of identity, faith, and the tumultuous yet beautiful path to self-discovery. 

Yemi's adept storytelling skillfully draws readers into a world where the spiritual and the human intersect, inviting you to observe and learn about the complexities of faith and the power of love through the acts and words of the fictional characters.

Throughout the pages, her expert use of prose carries a certain warmth, perhaps borne out of personal experiences and reflections. It is a testament to not just literary prowess but also a genuine understanding of human nature and its frailty. 

You can almost hear Yemi's thoughts and see her life through the lens of the main characters and their development throughout the book. And that is what we all love about a great book— its ability to reach into our soul and awaken something we never knew once there. 

Through the lens of faith and the complexities of love, this book explores the profound journey of self-discovery and the depth of a soul on a path toward grace. May this book resonate with you, offering solace and inspiration as you navigate your own story blessed with a grace that is so scandalous, it is almost unbelievable.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My first debt is to my Mum, for having that very uncomfortable conversation with me and stirred me up to start working on this book. I am grateful that you are present. 

I would also like to thank my Editor and friend, Damilare Asiwaju, for being present throughout the journey of making this book a masterpiece. Your comments were always insightful and helpful. Thank you. 

Victor James W., has my gratitude for being a mentor and a friend whenever he needed to be. Your support was priceless in how I was able to put my words together and finish the first draft of this book. Thank you for always believing in me. 

Temitayo, Ayomide, Faith, Abimbola, Medesseh, My Papa and Mama, Mr and Mrs. Adeniyi for the gift of access, your words always go a long way in strengthening my passion. 

Anointed, for providing helpful reviews to this book in its formative stage; Oluwagbolafunmi, who would rather praise my work than find any fault at all, your warmth and consistent appreciation for my book made so much difference and elevated my spirit.

I want to thank my supervisors, and team members at work for all their support since this journey began. I cherish the continuous support of Alexius Ayabam, Gift Akunebuni, Patience, Bidemi, Bello, Halimah, Taiwo, Everest Eyoh, Victoria, Oluwatoyosi, and everyone I have shared this vast workspace with so far.

Thank you to my publishing team at Commune Writers for believing in this work and bringing out the best it could be.

To every single person I have encountered while working on this book, you motivate me. I am indeed indebted. 

I will not end this page without giving gratitude to God for being such a mastermind artist when He created me, else, this book will not exist. I am grateful.

INTRODUCTION

Someone once said, "Don't just respect crowns. Respect scars." This is what the book, Scandal of Grace is about - walking you through a process of a grace so scandalous, yet unbelievably beautiful on the other side. 

Grace Alexander, our main character, is wary of everyone who comes into her life, after a series of very traumatic events. She battles with the definition of her identity, and what part God is to play in her story. She navigates her teenage years with her two best friends, Claudia and Jeremiah, until she meets Stephen.

There's a lot of drama in Grace's class. Her past stays a mystery until an inevitable moment of truth. Claudia holds a grudge. Grace struggles with her new found reality, as life seems unfair.

Is there truly a God? Does happiness really exist or is it only a facade? How will Grace come to terms with the truth? How will her friends accept this change? 

Join me on this journey of a teenager’s self-discovery.

This Girl – Lauren Daigle

CHAPTER ONE

"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." – Romans 12:15

***

When I woke up this certain Sunday morning, surprisingly yielding to the nudge of not running my family late to Church service rather than the usual urge to keep lying in bed until my father rapped at the door, I should have known my life was about to change. I should have known that a rollercoaster awaited my days to come.

Don’t be mistaken, I was used to change. it was constant, like the air I breathed, something essential for me to survive. Sometimes, it was beautiful, other times, it wasn’t. That could mean ugly, horrible plus everything distasteful.

My name is Grace Alexander. Two days ago, I clocked fifteen. And my parents, especially my mum, were hysterical about the add-up. I practically screamed when I came into the sitting room that morning after seeing how beautifully decorated the whole place was. My Mum had also gone all out to invite my classmates and folks from church to the party. 

When I thanked her after the celebration, she told me it was only a “mini party”, and that I shouldn’t be a party pooper. Her small voice as she said that to me was fragile as usual but excited enough to shut me up. I couldn't ruin her happiness. Plus, I was the only child left for them, so the whole excitement could be excused even if her definition of 'mini' was clearly different from mine. 

All other pictures were taken off the walls and two of mine hung on opposite sides of the sitting room. I most likely did not have more than that. Mum and Dad had forced me to take those two while assuring me that cameras didn't bite. Of course, I knew they didn't. I only didn't want to know what bitter consequences would come after. I hated taking pictures. It could damage me, my life, and people around me.

I was also not your regular frenzied teenager about social media and the world of cell phones.  I thought that books were more interesting. Take it or take it. Was I a nerd? Maybe not.

Where were we? Right. Sunday morning. It was the day we would go fellowship with other worshippers of God.

My father pastored the Gospel Life Bible Church we attended, a grandiose edifice towering over the street across the cul-de-sac where we lived.

I checked the clock on my bedside table. It was past six am. I had to get up and prepare for Church before I delayed the whole family. The service would start by eight am and if I did not stand up now, I could sleep off again.

I rubbed my face as if rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I gently pushed away the colourful quilt that warmed me up through the night and suddenly missed its warmth. I groaned in response to the cold that ran its course through the uncovered parts of my body. I stepped out of bed, almost shivering.

"Why is it this cold?" I hissed, my voice a little hoarse from sleep. 

On my way to the bathroom, I did a bit of lip thrills to help clear my voice before quickly brushing my teeth. I didn't want to greet my parents with my hideous breath. After brushing my teeth, and stepping back to my room, I grabbed a wrapper from my wardrobe and tied it across my chest over the nightie I was wearing already. I slipped on my fluffy slippers and proceeded to my parents' bedroom. It was some steps away and I met Dad at their door.

"Good morning, Dad," I said, as soon as I got close to him.

"Good morning, my pretty. I was just coming to wake you up. How was your night?" He was wearing his long-sleeved pyjamas - a blue and green striped shirt and matching trousers. His deep, dark brown eyes were bright. I figured he'd been up since God knew when. Dad was a morning person, and I wasn't. Also, I was totally fine with not being a morning person. Sleep was fun.

"I'm grateful for my duvet cover. I could have frozen to death. It was too cold." I complained.

“You left your AC on again. Didn’t you?” he questioned.

“Oh, Dad. How did you know? I forgot about that. I might have.” I answered, and his face welcomed an easy smile. 

“See? I was right. Had your devotion this morning?” He asked as he leaned against the wall.

I slightly shut my eyes, nodded my head, and muttered the usual “mmm” of affirmation.

"Hold on a second! I smell eggs and toast!!!" I squealed and jumped around and my dad laughed. I mean he laughed at my childishness - the kind of laughter where you clutch your stomach with one hand and support yourself by holding the door frame with the other. 

I felt embarrassed after my outburst and his reaction, that I dragged my palms to cover my face. I really got along with my dad though; even more than mum but that didn't make this situation less awkward.

When I peeped through my fingers at him, he was trying his best to stop laughing. He wiped a stray tear off his right eye and glanced back at me. I wondered what was so funny.

"Yes, Mummy is busy with that in the kitchen. But you should have seen yourself! You looked like a two-year-old!" He said and I gruntled in response. He was not making this easier. My hands were still on my face when I suddenly felt a pull around my right ankle, from behind.

"Darkling. Good morning to you too." Dad said, sounding perfectly amused.

Oh dear.

Darkling, my black Pekingese was up. Dad gave me it as a gift during the previous Christmas. I had asked for it with the colour and everything.

I left her sleeping in the room, alone. She must have peered around in the room and when she didn't find me, came scooting down the hallway looking for me. I hastily removed my hands from my face and carried her into my arms, played with her hair as she nuzzled herself further into my arms. She was probably cold too. So, I wrapped my arms around her tighter.

"Let's go get some breakfast," Dad said, breaking into my thoughts as he turned around, heading for the stairs.

Yes! I inwardly screamed. I wasn't going to embarrass myself further by yelling the word out. I satisfied my external self by settling on a grin instead. 

After eating a nice combo of toast and fried eggs, with a large cup of hot tea, everyone went to shower and dressed up for church. I put on a simple netted green dress which stopped just on my knees and the straight sleeves extended to my elbow, wore my cream flats, and picked my white handbag from the bed, shoving my Bible, jotter, and pen into it.

"Grace!!! Honey, be fast!" Mum yelled for me from the living room. 

"I'll be there in a jiffy, Mum!" I called back as I adjusted my cream beret. I took one last glance at myself in the mirror and scooped Darkling into my arms before taking quick strides down the stairs to meet my parents.

"You look good, dear," Dad commented. He said that every time I dressed up for any function, I did have a feeling that he would still say I looked good if I was wearing rags. I smiled at the thought.

"Grace, stop smiling sheepishly and let's get out of here," Mum commanded. I noticed I was standing awkwardly in the sitting room, carried away by my thoughts while they were already at the door.

"Yes ma'am." I did not miss my dad's chuckle as we went out and Mum locked the door.

Dad parked in a particular spot, at the car park designed for the church, every time. No one ever took the space because it had a sign that read “Reserved. Pastor Alexander.”

Temitope, our gateman, followed us to church, so I released Darkling to him, after giving her a small pat immediately we stepped out of the car.

Walking towards the entrance of the magnificent building, which was our church, someone covered my eyes from behind. What was up with people holding me from behind today?

First, it was Darkling. Now, this? I caressed the back of the person's hands to feel if I could know who it was, even though I should have known. The hands were soft, long thin fingers... then the person, ‘she’, giggled. "Claudia?"

She let me go. "Surprise! Happy Sunday!!!" She piped, as she literally jumped at me, it felt as if I was going to choke. Who would ever get so exuberant on a Sunday? News flash. Claudia Folaranmi, my all-time best friend, was always thrilled. 

Claudia was always excited, which could be positive or negative. She was too emotional for her own good. Well, she was still hugging me. No, squeezing me.

"Clau... Clau... Claudia... G-ge-gerrof mee." I managed to say while trying my best to breathe. She suddenly let go and I moved back a bit, on instinct, before she grabbed me again. Claudia was the closest person to whom I could call a best friend. She was jovial and free-spirited. If not for anything, I loved her for those two attributes I didn't have. 

I observed her attire. It was a long green flowing gown with white beads on the waistband. The upper part, hugging her body, was a flower-patterned lace material without any extensive design. The sleeves were straight like mine but were shorter, somewhere in between her shoulder and elbow. 

Most times, we tried to wear something similar, which was why we were wearing the same colour of dresses now.

"Sorry, dummy. I'm just -"

"I'm not a dummy."

She laughed at me and tongued out. Childish, I thought. I shook my head at her, and walked into the Church to meet others, while Claudia chose that moment to fill me in about how her last night went.

By the time we reached the choir space, I had learnt that her mother dragged her to the market in the evening to restock the house with food and everything else they might need for the next month. She also got to finish solving a hundred varying trigonometry questions before retiring for the night at close to 12 midnight. 

“Interesting!” I commented. 

Around us, people were saying their greetings or praying or giving and receiving instructions among different work sections. I could not say I was a God enthusiast or a church enthusiast for that matter. I felt I did not belong in a place as right as this. I felt so wrong to be doing this right thing - joining other people to worship God, who happened to be my creator. At least, that was what the Bible called him. 

In any case, I and Claudia were both in the Choir. We went ahead to pick our royal blue garments laced with white at the front from top to bottom and put them on.

During the service, my dad - Pastor Alexander - introduced a family to the church, a mother and son who recently lost a husband and father, respectively. I think I choked on my saliva after the announcement.

I suddenly felt my stomach turning and twisting on its own. I shut my eyes, knowing people around me might think I was only joining in the sympathy ceremony, not having the slightest idea that I was trying not to let my bad memories surge through me. 

I shook my head, maybe the thoughts would fly away.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I repeated the process a few more times and felt a bit better. I was not going to have a panic attack in church. Not in front of everyone. No way. I was really trying my best to stay strong.

I felt someone's breath - gasp - fan my left ear. I opened my eyes and saw Claudia looking at me warily. 

"What?" I muttered under my breath.

"You look like you're not here." She whispered.

"Oh, I am." I kept my voice down. It would be a disaster if we got punished for talking in church. At least I feel better now, I thought.

"Isn't he just cute?" whispered Claudia, blinking her eyes rapidly. God, who's she talking about now?

"Who?" I looked around and my eyes landed on a woman, fair and with an hourglass figure, wearing a long black shiny dress that accentuated her complexion, and a tall young boy around our age or so standing in front of the Church as dad gave details of the funeral.

"Aww. He's soooo cute. Grace, don't you think?" She commented again. I refused the urge to smack her arm out of her dreamy state. I rolled my eyes and sarcastically offered, “Of course.”

"Hush, babies." Someone said from behind. When I looked back, Jeremy or Jerry as we fondly called him, gestured for us to keep quiet. I rolled my eyes at him too. How mature.

Jeremiah Achebe was in the choir too, a boy older than me for a month but always claimed that he was my older brother. He also attended the same school as me and was in my class. Claudia does not attend our school… But I digress.

I returned my focus to the Pastor on the altar. "...they have returned now from the States for this cause, and they need our support. The funeral will be held on Friday at the church’s graveyard by six pm. God bless us all. Let us pray..."

He prayed for the family and the Church, and they returned to their seats. I did not catch their family name, but I would get to know that later.

I found myself staring at the tall athletic-looking boy sitting beside his mother on the second row. He had wavy hair and light green eyes, like his mother's. His caramel skin was fresh, not yet weather-beaten like most skins under the extreme influence of Nigeria's harmattan and heat.

He did look cute. But he did not look like he just lost his father. I frowned while his eyes twinkled as the ministering pastor, Pastor Josh, talked about Christ as the light of the world.

I diverted my attention away from him as the service continued till it ended. I met some people and thanked them for turning up for me at my birthday last Friday. Temitope and I waited for Dad and Mum in the car because they were still busy responding to people's greetings.

I wanted to leave. It did not make it better that I had been feeling sick since during the service. My head buzzed with the excess activity going on around me.

"Grace!" Someone called, and I turned back in the direction of the voice.

"Hey!" I yelled back at no other person but Claudia, in the distance.

"I'll come over this evening. Okay?!"

"Okay. See you!"

Then, she disappeared with her parents, Mr and Mrs Folaranmi and her younger brother, Chris, who were already walking away ahead of her.

Chris looked over at me and I waved at his little frame. He waved back, smiling and I could make out easily the empty spaces where his two front teeth should have been.

Just be held – Casting crowns

CHAPTER TWO

"I think that little by little I'll be able to solve my problems and survive." - Frida Kahlo

"You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you will never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. It's like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp." - Anne Lamott

***

My health deteriorated, as I had relapsed. 

I closed my eyes, but the tears still escaped. When I opened them, my vision was blurred by the unwanted tears. I wrapped myself tighter with my quilt and felt ache all over. For the record, it did not feel good to be that way.

"Grace," Mum began as she entered my room. "I just called your principal and Class teacher that you won't be coming to school today, till you're recovered. Is that okay?" She finished.

"Ye-e-ss, Mo-the-err," I drawled. "Brr. It's… so… Cold-dd." The clattering of my teeth was audible. It scared me they might fall off their sockets.I closed my eyes momentarily.

"Are you crying, Grace?" My mother happened to use my first name more often than Dad did.

"No-o M-mum... It's just...brr... I don't want Dad or you to die.”

"You're scared." Mum laughed, not a positive laugh. It wasn't negative either. It was simply what it was.

I hid my face behind the quilt. Although, she did not need to see the tears before she knew I was crying. I whimpered.

"You'll be fine, Grace. We'll all be fine. God is with every one of us and that is more than enough. Okay?" Her smooth voice was as reassuring as ever.

I nodded. I nodded because it felt like the right thing to do. I nodded because I knew I’d been here so many times and now would be no different. I would get through this phase; for me, for them, and for us. It was only hard, not impossible. 

"Let me get you some food. Dr Chloe is on her way." She said and I felt the weight leaving the bed, which meant she was standing up.

I lowered the quilt from my face and saw her pick up my cup of leftover tea from the table. She brought it to me earlier that morning. I was only able to take half of it before giving up. She closed the door gently as she left the room.

Dad left earlier to visit some people who needed his attention. However, he didn't leave without praying for me and telling me goodbye with a forehead kiss.

Darkling lay quiet on the couch opposite my bed, watching me with its black eyes that seemed to mirror most of my past.

"Darkling... I'm not o-kay… and... and... and I don't think I will ever be." I closed my eyes and more tears fell. I hated remembering them because the memories made me gag.

I heard Darkling's angry grunts and I smiled at how much she understood me. I always thought to myself that she was made for me and I for her if that made sense.

"You're just being angry... You can't do anything about it..." I said, my eyes still closed. She sighed, if I could call the sober sound she made, a sigh.

*

Two days later, I began to feel better.

The first day - Monday - was when I fell terribly ill; I was in my bed the whole day. The only times I stood up were when I needed to bathe and use the toilet. That day, Darkling never left the space of my room. Mum and Dad kept checking on me as I received treatments, and they spoon-fed me. That night, I had horrifying dreams. Not a dream, Dreams.

Each time, I woke up sweating like crazy. The worst part was that the nightmares revolved around whatever I was trying to forget. Sometimes, as I discovered, the brain does the exact opposite of what the heart truly wants and vice versa.

The second day - Tuesday - was when I finally came out of my room in the morning, not without my mother telling me to go back to bed because I looked too pale. I drank some water and went back to bed. I slept throughout the afternoon. 

By the time I woke up in the evening, I felt a bit better than before. I ate more than a few spoonfuls of food and took my drugs. That evening, Mum couldn't go to church for Bible study but stayed home with me. We streamed the service and afterwards, saw a movie on her phone, in my room.

The third day was today - Wednesday - the day I could walk down the stairs like a normal person with functioning limbs and a thumping heart, not like a zombie. Today was the day I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, not on my bed but at the dining table, along with my parents.

Claudia, who didn't show up on Sunday evening, came to visit in the afternoon with Jeremy in her wake. Claudia's big eyeballs widened in fear when she took in my appearance - I was leaner than the last time she saw me, which was on Sunday. But I had also made more progress than when the sickness started. If only she had known...

I would go to school tomorrow; I dreaded missing school because writing old notes was no fun. Thank goodness the class captain, Jeremy, was my friend, the only one I had in school. I didn't like talking in class to any of the other kids; as I was a bit socially awkward. Maybe more than a bit though.

I had previously begged Claudia to change her school to mine, but her mother wanted her to attend a private school. Claudia asked me to join hers, but I refused. Even my parents wanted me to go to a private school, but I didn't want them to waste that much money on my high school education. 

"Did you finish your dinner?" asked Dad, breaking into my thoughts as he sat beside me on the couch, in the sitting room.

"Yes, Daddy."

"That's my baby. You think you'll be able to go to school tomorrow?" He continued.

"Yes, I feel a lot better now." I gave him a small smile which I believed to be sufficiently convincing that I could be out there on my own.

I sat with Darkling on my lap, lacing my fingers through her numerous hairs, watching Henry Danger on Nickelodeon. I loved the way Charlotte squeezed her face when she was disgusted like she was doing presently, because Henry, as a kid danger, was dancing hysterically to a country song.

"Those kids are something." My dad said, pointing to the screen showing a dishevelled Henry covered in mud and a banana peel standing gloriously on his head. He looked out of place. I chuckled.

The next day, I quickly picked up my school bag and attached the straps to my shoulders. I checked my withdrawn reflection in the mirror. My low-cut hair was neatly combed and shiny due to the hair cream I applied earlier. My school uniform, a combination of green, white, and wine was smartly pressed against my body frame. 

I walked downstairs in careful steps to meet my dressed-up mother who now sat at the kitchen island.

"Grace, come here," Mum said as she beckoned me to take the seat beside her. My breakfast was set.

"Oh. Mum. Thanks." I sat down and quietly ate my dish of àkàrà and yellow pap mixed with condensed milk and sugar.

"Your Dad has gone out."

I nodded. "He came to my room to tell me goodbye," I said in between the food in my mouth.

"Darkling is with Temitope," Mum said and I nodded again.