Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,1
blood to attend a family gathering. It was to stunned silence that Wyatt disclosed the circumstances surrounding his eldest grandson’s birth. It had been Diane Humphries-Andrews and not Christiane Johnston-Wainwright who was Jordan’s birth mother.
Brandt sat next to his cousin, stretching out long legs and crossing them at the ankle, while staring at the tips of his shoes. “I know it’s not easy for you to talk about it, but how does it feel to have two mothers?”
Jordan sandwiched his hands between his knees. “I really don’t give it much thought.” He gave Brandt a sidelong glance. “Ironically, I feel closer to my half sisters than I do to my biological mother. I don’t hold it against Diane that she gave me up at birth, because she had unwittingly been sleeping with a man who was engaged to another woman. What I’m still dealing with is my grandfather Wyatt’s and Diane’s fathers’ underhanded wheeling and dealing. When I discovered what they’d engineered, I couldn’t help but think about what would’ve happened if my father had ended his engagement to Christiane and married Diane.”
Brandt managed a wry smile. “You’d still be a Wainwright. And what made the lie so easy to pull off is that you look like Wyatt—even down to the black hair.”
Jordan smiled. “Maybe, as long as I don’t start acting like him.”
“Are you that certain you’re not like him?”
Jordan’s deep-set eyes stared at his cousin. Brandt Wainwright was the NFL’s golden boy. In the sports world he was known as “The Viking,” with his rakish good looks and long, blond hair. A hefty two hundred fifty-five pounds were evenly distributed over Brandt’s muscular six-foot-five frame. Although Jordan was just a few days older than Brandt, there were times when he’d felt a few years older. Jordan attributed the difference in maturity to the fact that Brandt had chosen to become a professional football player, while he had decided to become a lawyer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jordan asked.
Brandt smiled. “Don’t get your nose out of joint, cuz. After all, I don’t want you to get a headache—especially on your wedding night.”
“When did you become a comedian?”
The uncomfortable silence seemed to grow with each passing second. Rarely did the two cousins argue or disagree about anything. Jordan had been an only child for ten years before his brother Noah was born, so in the meantime Brandt had been Jordan’s unofficial brother.
Brandt had lost count of the number of times he’d stayed over at Jordan’s family’s mansion across from Central Park. Back then, he’d been too young to understand why his aunt and uncle had slept in separate bedrooms before the birth of Noah Wainwright, who was ten years Jordan’s junior. But what no one had known at the time was that Christiane was not Jordan’s biological mother. And it had taken Edward Wainwright’s wife almost a decade to forgive her husband for his indiscretion.
“Jordan, I’m not trying to be funny,” Brandt said. “I know it can’t be easy for you to see family members who were once at each others’ throats come here today. And I saw you go through hell when you had to decide whether to invite Diane and your half sisters to your wedding. All I can say is better you than me.” Jordan nodded.
“I know you blame your grandfathers for being puppet masters who manipulated the lives of their children, but you have to put that behind you,” Brandt continued. “Especially today when you’re beginning a new life with the woman you love.”
The room grew quiet again.
“You asked me whether you should invite Diane Andrews to your wedding and I said yes,” Brandt continued. “Every family has its secrets and the Wainwrights and Humphrieses are no exception.”
Jordan put his arm across Brandt’s shoulder. “You missed your calling, cuz. You should’ve become a lawyer rather than let a bunch of three-hundred-fifty-pound linemen beat the crap out of you every Sunday.”
Brandt chuckled. “I may play football, but I do know how to read and write.”
“What do you plan to do when you stop playing ball?” Jordan asked.
Brandt shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“Noah said there’s a position for you at Wainwright Developers whenever you’re ready to hang up your jersey.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Jordan patted his cousin’s back. “Don’t think too long, cuz.” He didn’t want to remind Brandt that there was always the possibility that his career could end with him being carried