Brandon sighed. "I don't know how I spent so long listening to that exact same voice speaking in such innocence and not suspecting a thing."
He advanced toward her bag and Ashley shot up off the settee and pulled it to her.
Brandon growled. "Just give me the letter!"
"No!" Ashley shouted. "I can't believe that you went behind my back and tested the children, disbelieving what I told you four days ago. That is so low, Brandon." She pulled the letter out of the bag and started tearing it up. "I am not that person, the one that you are implying that I am. I may be everything else that you are calling me, a cheater, a liar—whatever—but to imply that I could give you not one but two children from two other men...it's ridiculous. So your little DNA test was just the lowest thing you have ever done to me."
Brandon watched in shock as she meticulously tore up the page into pieces, squashed it into a ball, and threw it at him.
"Are you happy that you humiliated me now?" Ashley screamed. "You are constantly dragging me through the mud. So I had an affair donkey ages ago. It fizzled out. Men do it to women all the time; you guys are notorious for it. I did it and I am sorry. It won't happen again, but to actually imply that my children are not yours is really low. Really low!"
She got up and headed for the stairs. She looked back at him balefully. "I never expected this from you, Brandon."
Brandon looked at the bundle of paper at his feet and slowly stooped to pick it up.
*****
He pushed it in his pocket and went to his office. He passed the room door. He could hear Ashley in the room crying, big heaving sobs that were loud enough to wake the dead.
He wasn't impressed by it or her little speech earlier. He knew her penchant for melodrama quite well and he wasn't overly impressed with her little show just now. He sat around the desk and laid out the crushed bundle of paper on his desk. One by one he smoothed the pieces out. He would painstakingly put them back together if it took him all day.
He had to see for himself if those children were really his and if he couldn't piece back the paper together, there was always the electronic version, and if they didn't send that, he was going to do another test. He couldn't trust Ashley again and even though she had looked genuinely distressed when she found out about the test, he was not going to let that fool him.
But the papers proved to be thoroughly shredded. It was like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle; Ashley had really done a good job of tearing up the paper, as if she was truly gripped with righteous indignation. The paper seemed as if it had a chart on it. He was not going to be able to read it. The scientific terms eluded him; he wouldn't know what to look for.
He opened his laptop. He had asked them to both post the letter and send him the results via email. He opened his mail. His hands trembled involuntarily when he saw that there was a mail from them.
He clicked on the mail. There was the chart again, STR Locus, Allele Range… He scanned that impatiently and headed to the Statement of Results.
"Finally."
"Based on the DNA analysis Brandon Blake is excluded as the biological father of Alisha Blake because they do not share sufficient genetic markers. The probability of the relationship is indicated below…"
He looked below. "Probability 0%."
He went through and read the other part numbly. "Based on the DNA analysis Brandon Blake is excluded as the biological father of Ariel Blake...probability 0%."
He leaned back in his chair.
Zero percent to both. Regina had been right, and now his worst nightmare was fulfilled.
A pain clutched his chest from nowhere and he gasped with the intensity of the feeling. He took deep gulps of air and tried to ease the pain. This was not really happening. He had really been a doormat, a whipped, total idiot for the past couple of years being married to Ashley.
Ashley...he couldn't think about Ashley right now. His first instinct was to bang on the door, haul her out by her hair and demand to know the truth. Who was Alisha's father? Was it that guy she had that affair with, and who was Ariel's father?
Who the hell were they? How on earth could she have unprotected sex with various men while they were married and have the audacity to believe that he wouldn't ever find out about the biggest lie of all?
He clenched and unclenched his fist. His heart was racing alarmingly. He could have a heart attack right here, right now in his office, if he didn't calm down.
And then he thought of the girls. The girls he was raising as his own. The girls he thought were his. He had never been biologically related to them.
"Oh Lord." He put his head in his hands and felt the tears prickling his eyes. Those girls meant the world to him.
He had spent a few more years than he should have in an unhealthy marriage because of them, and they weren't even his.
He had been tied to Ashley because of them. He had tried to save his marriage because of them. He had lived a sub-par existence, being chronically unhappy, because of them. He had been both their mom and dad, staying up nights when they were teething and needed soothing. Kissing childhood booboos and playing with them, making sure that they were happy and healthy. Protecting them, providing for them and they weren't even his.
He gulped down a sob.
What would he do now about them?
He already knew that the marriage was over, but what about them? Could he just leave them in Ashley's care like that? How on earth would they grow up? Try as he might, he couldn't think of them as other than his right now.
Maybe that would change in the future but for right now...he closed the computer screen and got up.
He had to get out of this house this evening. He would drive to Negril to Richard's place for a few days. He had to give this house a break. He had to think without kids...without wife...he had to go for his sanity's sake.
*****
Brandon packed light and drove to the West coast. He deliberately kept the radio on the BBC and actually took comfort in hearing about the problems from the different areas in the world to take his mind off his. When they brought on a feature about a new engineering technique he listened keenly, grateful for the respite from his thoughts.
When he got near Richard's cottage, he called his sister. Though they referred to the place as a cottage, and it was finished in a rustic charm that could easily fool you into thinking that you were living the simple life, it was part of a community of nine other luxurious cottages with a private beach in the back yard. The security guard at the gate and the caretaker could only let him in with Richard or Latoya's permission.
His sister picked up the phone on the first ring.
"Brandon! What's going on? The witch called Mom and she claims that she is sick and apparently claimed that you made her so. She also claimed that you stormed out of the house because of some petty quarrel and that there was nobody there to pick up the kids from school."
Brandon pulled over on the side of the road. His blood began to boil again when he heard Ashley's name.
"I am in Negril. I am going to chill out at the cottage for the rest of the week. Can you tell the caretaker?"
"Sure." Latoya had a frown in her voice. "But what happened today? What did she do now?"
Brandon bit his lip from responding. "I don't...I really don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, fine." Latoya sounded offended. "You can talk to me, you know."
Brandon sighed. "Lats, if I talk right now, I crack. I have been holding it together all evening driving down. Just call the caretaker, please."
"Okay," Latoya said sympathetically. "Mom went to pick up Alisha and Ariel."
"Good," Brandon said. "That's good."
"And they are staying with her tonight," Latoya added. "I know they mean the world to you, so I have to report. What should we tell them about you not being around?"
"Tell them I took a vacation," Brandon said, fresh pain lancing him at the thought that just a few hours ago he thought they were his children biologic
ally and now they weren't.
"You must be really out of it," Latoya said, "that you forgot the girls when you stormed out today. Give me a call and check in at least a day or two so I don't worry, all right?"
"Fine." Brandon hung up the phone from Latoya and pulled back out onto the road. No, he hadn't forgotten the girls; he had been thinking about them when he did.
*****
The cottage was just the antidote that his pained senses needed. He received the keys from the caretaker, Mr. Binns, who informed him that the place was so clean he could eat from the floor.
He let himself into the cottage and breathed a sigh of relief. He could hear the sea outside as it lashed the shore. It was just two hundred feet away. He could also hear the crickets.
They seemed louder in Negril than in Kingston. He looked around the designer rustic cottage, with its bright, airy wood-finished interior. Some of the posts even had carvings in them. He walked around one which had faces and leaves and vines wrapped around it. He had been to the cottage several times, but the carved wooden posts were always a pleasure to look at.
He went to the small kitchenette and looked in the cupboards. Latoya always kept it stacked with non-perishables. Tomorrow he would plug in the fridge. Or maybe not. He could always eat at the restaurant on the compound. They did meals to order.
He picked up the menu, thinking he should order something, but then he changed his mind. Tomorrow he would have a big breakfast. He lay on the bed. He wished there was some magical way to switch off his mind and not think. He had thought that the most devastating thing that could happen to a man was finding out that his wife was cheating on him with a woman, but he now realized that that did not compare to what Ashley had done through the years.
She made him love them and take care of them. Couldn't she have just had some pity on him and left him when she had the first affair? He would have been hurt then, but it would have saved him years of heartache.
He fell asleep sometime after that and was awakened by music. He glanced at the clock and groaned. It was six-thirty in the morning and the music sounded as if it were coming from a live band.
He recognized the song, "Break My Stride." His sister used to joke that she told Richard the lines of the chorus when they were just dating back in university. Ain’t nobody gonna break my stride, ain’t nobody gonna hold me down, I gotta keep on moving...
He got up when he recognized that the voice singing was most definitely Nadine Langley's.
His heart swelled with longing. He missed her. He hadn't stopped. She was not just someone he had liked just because he was hurting.
He had loved everything about her. Nadine was a famous singer, yet she was refreshingly normal and grounded.
When he heard somebody yell ‘cut’ and the music stop, he got up and looked out. There were quite a few people down by the beach. They had equipment spread around. The sun hadn't even come out properly yet. He went out on the porch and Mr. Binns quickly came by, giving him a hurried good morning.
"What's happening?" Brandon asked him.
"Gramps Langley and Nadine Langley are doing two music videos here on our compound. They’ve been here since yesterday; they are just finishing up. Don't worry, the noise will be down by ten. I should have told you last night; sorry for the inconvenience."
Brandon nodded. The air was chilly. He could see Nadine now; she had people surrounding her before but now he could clearly make her out on the sea side. She was in a floaty white dress, and somebody was applying makeup to her face. They arranged her hair. The director called action and the music started again.
He contemplated going out to reintroduce himself to her. Maybe she had forgotten him. He wasn't that memorable, just a guy who she had taken pity on and hung out with when he was hurting about his sham of a marriage. She must have moved on by now and written him off as a complete waste of six weeks of her life.
He went back into the cottage and showered. He was going to head to the restaurant and order a big breakfast and lie in the hammock that was tied between two sea-grape trees that were at the side of the cottage and try to get lost in one of the many novels that his sister had in the bookcase.
He stepped onto the stone pathway and had all intentions of heading to the main cabin when he looked over by the beach side. They seemed as if they were finished, the lighting people were taking down their equipment and the band was standing around and laughing.
He debated with himself whether he should go over and say something when he saw a guy dressed in full black who looked like one of the crew go over to Nadine and say something in her ear, and she started giggling. The guy had his arm around her familiarly, like he had a right to do so.
Brandon turned toward the cabin. That was it; she didn't need him in her life with his million and one woes. She was happy, young and carefree. Obviously she had forgotten him already, as it should be.
When he was her age, he had thought that he was happy and young and carefree too; with a wife by his side, both of them would conquer the world. They would be the best family ever, an example to the neighborhood, a pillar of the church, but that was the year when his wife had most certainly been having an affair with a guy at her bank and had gotten pregnant by him.
My God, would he ever... ever forget that?
The thought that he didn't have any biological children hit him when he sat down at a table in the back of the restaurant where he could look out at the sea.
He didn't even know if he was capable of having any. His parents didn't have any biological grandchildren either. Alisha and Ariel weren't blood relatives. They were not really Blakes.
"We have a special this morning," a young waiter smiled at him, a note pad in hand, "or do you want a more continental breakfast?"
"What's on the special?" Brandon asked. He didn't know if he could even eat. His appetite had fled.
"Fried dumplings, ackee and salt fish and avocado," the guy said, "and we have a selection of various beverages, juices, tea..."
Brandon nodded. "Orange juice with the special. Thanks."
"Okey doke," the waiter said, jotting down on his notepad, and then he looked up. "The crew is coming. Yesterday they had breakfast with us—Nadine Langley and Gramps Langley."
He went away swiftly and Brandon looked back out at the sea. He was happy that his back was turned to the doorway. Maybe Nadine would not even acknowledge him anyway.
He didn't glance their way when the crew filled up the tiny restaurant; he heard the buzz of conversation around him and the healthy laughter. The waiter brought his food and drinks and hurried away. It was buzzing in the open space.
The scent of the food brought his appetite back and he dug in.
"Is this seat taken?" He looked up and saw that it was her. She was still in that white dress and her face was bare of makeup, like she had scrubbed it off. She looked so dear to him that his chest constricted.
"No," he swallowed his food.
Nadine smiled at him. "Good."
She sat down and he watched her every move with fascination.
"How are you?" she asked, giving him one of her melting smiles.
"Terrible," he wanted to say but with her sitting across from him, he couldn't say that. He was feeling remarkably light and pleased to see her, like she was the light at the end of the dark and dank tunnel that was his life.
"I am good, now." He added the now deliberately. "Seeing you, I mean."
"And how are your wife and the girls?"
Brandon sighed and put down his fork.
"Uh-oh," Nadine raised a brow. "Trouble in paradise again?"
"Something like that," Brandon said. "It was never paradise, you know."
Nadine nodded. "Obviously. It's what, three weeks since you two got back together, and now you are apart again?"
"Yup," Brandon said, "and this time I filed for divorce."
"You did?" Nadine looked at him solemnly. "Want to talk about it? I was your friend, remember?"
/> "We were a little more than that," Brandon said softly. "We had feelings for each other."
"No," Nadine shook her head. "I had feelings for you. You were on the rebound."
"No, I wasn't." Brandon stared in her sparkling eyes, and a feeling of rightness washed over him.
Whenever he saw her or talked to her, he couldn't help but feel that they would be right together. It made him wish that he had waited for her, instead of getting married to Ashley. But maybe he wouldn't have met her. Maybe life was exactly as it should be.
"So have you moved on?" Brandon asked. "This morning I saw you; you looked happy and carefree and there was that guy whispering in your ear."
Nadine laughed. "That was Karl."
She pointed to him, sitting at the table with other crew members. They had on black shirts with white lettering ‘crew’ across the front.
"Karl Langley, my cousin. He produces videos for us."
Karl waved to them and Brandon waved back.
"I like it that you were jealous," Nadine said, smiling. "I spent the better part of the last three weeks telling myself that it is completely uncool to be grieving over a married man."
"I thought you had forgotten me by now." Brandon touched her hand and then laced his fingers with hers.
"Maybe I will in a year or so or maybe two years," Nadine said wearily. "I was giving myself two years."
Brandon laughed. "I missed you. I thought about you every day. Something would remind me of your laughter or that way you tilt your head when you are considering something."
"I missed you too," Nadine said. "Remember when we used to just talk and talk about everything and nothing? I got used to that."
"Maybe we can do that again?" Brandon asked.
"No," Nadine said regretfully. "The problem with loving a married man is that there is always the possibility of him getting back with his wife. You two have kids together; I can't be the one who comes between you and your family, Brandon. I can't do it. It would kill me."
On the Rebound Page 15