Greg felt guilty as his eyes flickered: all because Rita Martinson’s words were exactly right. “Jobson is your son. The earlier you accept this and love him as someone whom your blood runs through, the better for all of us. Greg, I mean, it’s the life of another human being we are talking about here. What benefit will we get to drag Jobson’s paternity into legal and medical jigsaw? You and I knew that what happened on that day was wrong and you were the only black fella around.” Rita said sternly.
Greg stared sheepishly at the back of Rita as she took the lead to go and sit down at the former’s office. He indeed had a feeling for her and this was running and running in his brain. Greg knew very well that it was unwise to twist the truth to his advantage, especially, the mockery and humiliation of one wrong action of his and friends had caused. He decided to treat her better to compensate any ill feelings she was habouring for him. Again, a wounded tiger is very dangerous as the saying goes. “Sorry Rita, Indeed what happened on that day was wrong.……..” Greg said. “Yes, but what is the point in apologising to me now? We were young then and having fun. Beside, we lost contact.” Rita chipped in. “Now Rita, what do you want from me?” Greg inquired. Rita did not hesitate to reply him. “Simple. Assume your role as the father of Jobson. It was because of you, that is why he jetted down to Ghana.” Greg giggled and started his usual argumentative manner. “How do you prove that because I was the only black fella in the orgy, I am the father of a black offspring?” Rita gritted her teeth revealing a stoned faced creature ready to strangle Greg with her bare hands. She wanted to say something but the words were not forthcoming. Eventually, she said, “DNA test will prove Jobson’s paternity.”
Gamut of thoughts raced through Greg’s mind concerning this matter. How will Anastasia and Ama receive the news? Will they ever forgive him? In all these, he has not destroyed life anyway but just procreated to fulfil God’s divine purpose on earth. On the other hand, Jobson has already been condemned to death, so what was the point in associating himself with a murderer? Again, what if by divine deeds Jobson was spared of the death penalty? How will all these interplay inevitably affect the relation-ship between Ama and Jobson; as it became public that similar blood ran through them? Aside from the thoughts of Greg, there was the possibility of a break in trust and loyalty from the external community, which included the church, friends, extended family members from both partners as well as sympathisers and admirers.
Greg’s face was in anguish. He knew that he had to bear this responsibility for the rest of his life. He also knew that he was in a hell of hot waters as far as his position as the head of the Donkor family was concern. Nonetheless, it was real men who are destined to drink bitter pills. Indeed, he had to carry his own cross to ‘Golgotha’, whatever the case may be.
“‘The die is cast’.” Greg said softly. “Pardon me. What did you say?” Rita queried. At the very least, Rita was mentally astute anticipating the right words from Greg’s mouth. She did not want to miss any chance of saving her son. “I said yes. Tentatively, I accept responsibility for Jobson’s paternity.” Greg repeated. Rita drew a deep sniff and smiled. “Thank you for your understanding, dear!” She said ‘dear’ without thinking. Perchance, she was carried away by the sweet ‘yes’ from Greg. Possibly when hate and frustration went to the extremes, it could generate into love. Right to this very moment, Rita had realised that Greg was a human being with exceptional virtues. After all, he was not as filthy as her father Von Martinson had lived to preach. Irrespective of their cultural differences and complexion, the woman was developing strong genuine feelings for Greg. Why won’t she? Twenty-five or so years ago, knowing or unknowingly, she and Greg got enthralled in a game reserved for grown-ups, which ended up in the birth of Jobson.
Greg asked coldly. “How far has Jobson’s appeal gone?” Rita gawked in surprise. “Hopefully, in a month or two he will be freed or his sentence commuted.” Greg laughed heartily; setting the entire ambience in a happy harmonious mood. Ironically, one wondered whether this kind of laugh was coming from a genuine heart. He quickly said, “Really!” “Of course!” Rita Answered and continued. “Actually, the Swiss Embassy in Accra recommended to me a very good lawyer. She is called Prof. Abena Agyeiwaa. She made a very good case of appeal by punching holes in the first verdict. My lawyer argued in her brief, exposing some anomalies among many other procedural and evidential flaws. We are convinced beyond reasonable doubt to overturn the verdict in Jobson’s favour.”
“Wonderbar!” Greg said and looked at Rita with confusion and surprise. “You don’t mean it. How can a whole Judge make such an error? Unbelievable!” Rita rushed forward and said, “Divine power is at play. I know my son very well. He is innocent of all this.” Greg resigned to his fate. “It is best for Jobson to get justice. And as you have said, we pray for divine intervention for his life.” Greg clasped his fists tightly, as Rita said, “Amen,” which echoed in his head.
At this moment, Rita rose to her feet, stretched her right hand to shake Greg’s right hand and said. “I am grateful for the reception. I should be on my way now. I believe that with this agreement, we must keep in touch often.” Greg withdrew his hand and assured her of his unflinching support. “Fair and good Rita! My word is my born. I am with you in body, soul and spirit.” She left the office accompanied by the ‘click-clack’ sound of her high heels as she descended the staircase onto the main hallway and out of view.