The pale Friday dawn crept through the curtain. Becky, staring at the ceiling tallied the crushing inventory of the day ahead: a sink overflowing with the previous night's greasy dishes, the two houses to clean and a loundry basket bursting at the seams.
Chepto, her husband's niece, who had moved in after Kiplimo's birth, would help. But hers would only be babysitting the little boy. The heavy lifting still remained Becky's alone.
Hurriedly, she made breakfast and dealt with the dishes from the night before. Then, with a sack and a hoe slung over her shoulder, she left the house to fetch white soil.
When she returned nearly fifteen minutes later, Chepto had woken up, but not the little kid. Becky laid the sack down, fetched two plastic troughs, and stepped outside. She scooped the soil into one of the troughs until it was half-full, she crushed it into fine powder, added water and stirred, creating smooth, creamy mud out of it. She decanted it into the second trough, discarding the coarse residue. Dipping a rag into the smooth mixture, she made sure it was thoroughly soaked.
The work began. She smeared the walls of the kitchen, first outside, then inside. When that was done, she moved on to the main house, her hands steady and practiced.
Done, she gathered her laundry, took it to the river and washed it.
It was mid-afternoon when she finished and started back home clothes fresh but heavy on her back.
As she approached the compound, she heard Chepto's voice mingled with another. She instantly knew who the other was, she could recognize his voice anywhere. Her heart leapt. Her husband was home.
She quickened her stride as joy surged through her chest. There he stood in the center of the yard, bouncing little Kiplimo in his arms.
Tesot turned at the sound of footsteps. His eyes lit up, and a wide smile spread across his face. Handing Kiplimo back to Chepto, he opened his arms. Becky walked into his embrace. One of Tesot's arms circled her waist, the other rested behind her shoulders. She pressed her cheek against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," she murmured, looking up at him with affection.
"Thank you," he replied, his smile gentle. "I've missed you so much," he whispered.
"I didn't know you were coming," she teased softly.
"I wasn't sure," he explained. "Things happened so fast. I asked for leave only yesterday, and I didn't know if it would be approved. I couldn't miss your brother's graduation."
"I'm glad you made it," she said, picking up his luggage. "Come inside."
Tesot followed her into the house and settled onto the sofa. Becky carried his luggage and he noted certain animated excitement as she traveled from the living room to the bedroom.
Becky was, as always, curious about what her husband had brought. Opening the bag, she found a plastic bag inside. She pulled it out and discovered a black sleeveless dress — shorter than any she owned. She laid it on the bed and searched deeper, finding a pair of small children's clothes and then, in a small carton, high-heeled shoes, in matching color with the dress.
She slipped into the dress and stepped into the heels, admiring her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't help but wonder: did Tesot realize just how much this modern attire fueled Pabonya's spite?
She stepped back into the living room.
"Whoa!" Tesot exclaimed, delight dancing in his eyes. "I knew it would look stunning on you."
Thank you. I love them," Becky said, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"How has it been here?" he asked, pouring tea into a cup Chepto had just brought.
She hesitated, tempted to speak of Pabonya's visits and harsh words — but she didn't want to cloud the joy of his return. That could wait until after graduation.
"Everything is fine," she replied, holding back the truth with a small effort. "We finished planting the maize last week..."
"Good work," he nodded approvingly.
Becky returned to the bedroom, changed out of the dress, and rejoined him.
"Enjoy your tea," she told him. "I'll go air the clothes and cook lunch for you. You must be very hungry."
Outside, she hung the wet clothes on the line, then asked Chepto to catch one of the cocks and boil water. Tesot loved chicken with ugali; she wanted to welcome him home in a special way.
Within a couple of hours, the meal was ready. Becky served Chepto first, then carried the rest of the food into the other house where her husband waited.
"You have no idea how much I missed your cooking," Tesot said between bites.
"That makes me happy," she answered, her heart warm.
After they finished eating, Becky took him to see the maize field. Tesot was impressed, praising her for how well she managed the farm while he was away. The young maize plants were already sprouting, green against the dark soil.
That night, when they went to bed, Becky fell into his arms with the hunger of long absence — and it was good.
But later, Tesot woke in the dark, drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
"What is it?" Becky whispered, alarmed.
"A nightmare," he gasped. "The worst I've ever had."
"Tell me."
"I was with Uncle Pabonya," he began slowly. "We'd gone to see an Orgoiyot about a problem in the clan. The Orgoiyot said only I could save us — if I'd just drink from a bottle he handed me."
"What was in it?"
"A sealed bottle of tick poison. I was terrified, Becky—it felt so real."
"Did you drink?"
"No. I refused. But my uncle tried to force me. I started shouting, begging for another way. He kept saying there was none."
"And then?"
"I took the bottle from him, my hands were shaking… and then I woke up."
"Oh, my dear," Becky murmured, gently touching his shoulder. "It's just a nightmare. Try to sleep."
Tesot lay back, but the image of Pabonya's insistence and the Orgoiyot's grim words hovered in his mind long after his eyes closed.
Becky lay awake long after Tesot's breathing slowed and deepened beside her. The soft hush of the night was broken only by the distant croak of frogs and the wind whispering through the eaves.
Her mind, however, refused to rest.
She had longed for this moment — her husband home beside her, his warmth a shield against the loneliness she had felt. But now, in the hush of darkness, fear pressed upon her chest.
Should she tell him?
She turned slightly, watching the gentle rise and fall of Tesot's chest in the pale moonlight filtering through the window. He looked peaceful, worn from travel but at ease. The thought of burdening him, so soon after his return, made her heart tighten.
She wanted to protect him from the ugliness that had begun to seep into their lives. Pabonya's words, the venom in his voice, the rumor that had started to coil around her like a living thing — it was all too real. Yet Tesot had only just come back, and she feared his joy would be overshadowed by anger or anxiety.
What if bringing it up now provoked an immediate confrontation with his uncle? What if it dragged him directly into the storm before she even had a chance to explain?
But what if she waited too long?
The thought gnawed at her: what if Pabonya's lies reached Tesot from someone else's lips first? Would he believe her side of the story, or believe the rumor?
She swallowed hard. The ache of uncertainty pressed against her ribs. Her heart told her Tesot would stand by her. But doubt — seeded by the bitterness of what Pabonya had already done — whispered that anything could happen.
She remembered Rebecca's warning: "He wants to destroy you. Be careful." The weight of that began to settle on her.
Becky closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She wanted to wait — at least until after her brother's graduation. Let Tesot enjoy these few days at home, free of shadows. After that, she would tell him. She would explain everything: Pabonya's threats, the spreading rumor, and the fear that kept her awake at night.
And if Pabonya dared go further — if he dared bring his lies before the elders — then Tesot would hear the truth from her first.
For now, she resolved to hold her tongue. Not out of weakness, but out of love. Out of hope that tomorrow might still dawn gently, before the storm broke.
She turned toward Tesot, inching closer until she could rest her hand lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
"Tomorrow," she whispered silently to herself, blinking back the sting in her eyes. "Tomorrow, if I must."
And in that quiet promise, Becky finally allowed sleep to claim her.