My Steps Are Ordered (7 page)

The box of tissues in hand, Keith followed Gina as she ambled outside the hospital. Gina had taken the elevator and he had taken the stairs. With his long legs, he caught up to her in no time. He held the box of tissues out to her. She pulled a couple out. He knew Gina needed a good cry. They walked over to Gina's SUV. She disengaged the alarm, and the two of them sat in the front seat.

“I don't get where Michael could be,” Gina cried. “This isn't like him, and I don't know if something happened. I am already worried about Trey. God, where is he?” Her chin quivered, and the tears fell.

Keith waited for Gina's tears to subside. He had left another message for Michael and did not have a clue. He did not want to exacerbate the situation by announcing that he'd noticed Michael's furtive actions of late.

Gina took a deep breath and composed herself. Then she perked up. “I almost forgot something.” She reached behind her to get something from the backseat. Grabbing a box, she held it out to him.

It took a moment for Keith to register that the box was intended for him. After a brief hesitation, Keith took the gift and tore off the wrapping paper. He opened the box, but in the SUV dim interior he could not see what was inside. He turned on the interior light and was surprised to see a Bible.

He outlined the insignia bearing his name with his fingertip. The leather-bound Bible was exquisite. He opened it to the dedication page and read Gina's profound words. “This is beautiful, Gina,” Keith said. “I love it.”

Gina reached up and held her locket. Then, looking at Keith, she smiled. “We both seem to know the kinds of gifts to give each other. We have always been so in sync.”

“So why are you constantly looking over my shoulder for my brother?” he asked. “He should be here, but he's been occupied with something else of late. I'm here for you. I don't want to be a substitute.”

“That's kind of selfish of you. Michael's been a substitute for years.” She threw her head back against the seat rest. Silence filled the car until she spoke again. “He's Trey's father. I can't ignore that.”

“You could have avoided all this,” was his curt reply. He looked at the gift in his hand, then back at her large, sad eyes. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to say that.”

Gina nodded. “It's okay. At least it's coming from the right place. It's coming from love. I need that.”

Keith shifted. Her comments warmed his heart, but his mother's warnings still rang in his ears. He couldn't dismiss his mother's concerns. If he didn't watch it, he and Gina would be wading into dangerous waters. He decided to resist that tempting conversation and asked a question about Trey.

Gina followed his cue and changed the subject. She asked him if he had gotten any word from Michael. Keith responded no.

Okay, that was a dead-end conversation, he thought. Keith felt her eyes on him as he looked out the window. “Let's go back in,” he suggested.

Gina agreed. He decided to leave his gift in her car for safekeeping, and the two climbed out of the vehicle.

Gina walked to the rear of the SUV and popped open the trunk. She reached in to snag one of the bottled waters she kept there. “I'd better hit the restroom before going back into Trey's room. I don't want him to know I've been crying.”

Keith turned his eyes when the shifting of Gina's gray pencil skirt exposed a lot of her legs. She had on a button-down, red silk shirt and wore matching pumps. When they stepped into the elevator, Keith heaved a sigh of relief. He had pretended not to notice Gina's eyes on him in the close proximity of her car. He felt good. He had resisted and defeated the urge to make physical contact.

Gina turned to Keith and apologized.

“What are you sorry for?” Keith queried.

“This.” Gina pressed the STOP button. The elevator squeaked to a stop. She backed him into a corner and grabbed his shirt for balance.

No, Gina,
Keith thought.
Don't do it, Gina.

Though she wore heels, Gina still had to get on her tiptoes. She moved her hands up to hold Keith's head. The silky material felt good against his skin.

No,
Keith begged with his eyes.

Gina closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Keith's. “I need this right now. I need your strength.” Somehow, the top two buttons of her shirt had come undone, and Keith saw the flimsy undergarment she wore. He growled and deepened the kiss with all the passion he had repressed.

God help him. He wanted this woman. He loved this woman. He would take whatever he could get. Keith ran his hands through her hair.

“Oh, yes,” Gina breathed.

You know this is wrong.
Keith heard his conscience. Michael's face appeared before him. Adamant, Keith closed his eyes tighter and focused on the wonderful sensations flowing through his body. But he was no match for divine intervention.

Keith's cell phone vibrated. The two sprung apart. Reason returned. Guilt prevailed. He looked at his phone. “It's Michael.”

Gina pressed the button to put the elevator in motion. As she buttoned her shirt, he saw her visible relief at his brother's call.

When the elevator stopped on their floor, Keith signaled to Gina to go ahead without him. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator car, he pressed the DOWN button and headed back to the lobby.

Keith walked out of the hospital and climbed into his brother's Escalade. He didn't care about the smooth leather interior or the smooth bass playing in the background, because the minute he entered the car, the stench of alcohol hit him full force. Michael peeled out the parking lot before Keith could buckle himself in.

“Have you been drinking?” Keith asked, enraged. Without waiting for a reply, he demanded, “Michael, pull over.”

No more words were exchanged as the two men switched seats.

Keith gripped the wheel hard. He was so angry with his brother he could strangle him. What would possess Michael to even touch alcohol? And, worse yet, get behind the wheel while intoxicated? The last time he'd been reckless, Michael had almost lost his life.

“How could you?” Keith bellowed. “Your wife is upstairs, half sick out of her mind with worry, and you are busy getting sloshed. She thinks something happened to you.”

“Don't talk to me about my wife,” Michael snarled and twisted his body to look out the window.

Keith was taken aback by the bitterness in his brother's voice. He had no idea where such venom was coming from, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. “What about Trey, your son? Remember him?” The music blasted in the background. With gritted teeth, Keith punched the buttons to turn off the device.

“Ha!” Michael shouted. Then he stewed, saying nothing more.

Keith could see that Michael was battling with something, but he needed answers. Not sure of where he was going, Keith finally decided to go to his place. It was obvious there was something amiss, and he knew they needed to hash it out without fear of interruption.

Michael was out of the car and storming up the entry to the house before Keith had even put the gear in park. Sighing, Keith jogged to the other side of the car to close the door Michael had left open in his haste.

As soon as Keith unlocked the front door, Michael rushed inside. Keith stood on the steps and pondered his brother's odd behavior. Michael was in a sad condition. Keith activated the car alarm then went inside.

Inside, he found Michael in the kitchen. By the looks of things, his brother was searching for something to drink. “I have only water,” Keith stated through clenched teeth. He placed the house keys on the table and watched his brother in silence. He didn't have a drop of alcohol in the house, so he didn't have to be concerned about Michael finding any.

Disgusted, Michael curled his lips with disdain. On surprisingly steady feet, he stomped into the living room and dumped his huge frame on the chaise lounge. His long legs hung over. If it weren't for the dire circumstances, Keith would have ribbed him about it.

Seated on the couch across from him, Keith observed his brother with controlled patience. Michael appeared to be stone cold sober, despite the huge amount of alcohol he must have consumed. That was a minor consolation, Keith thought. “Look, Michael just spit it out. It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that something is wrong.”

“Gina.” Michael said her name like it was something he picked off the bottom of his shoe. “Gina is not who I thought she was.” Michael stopped and shook his head. Then he placed his hand over his head and moaned. His dramatic antics tore away the last shreds of Keith's patience.

“Where is all this coming from?” Keith shouted. In two strides, he marched over to his brother and snatched him to his feet. “You'd better start explaining yourself fast, or I won't be responsible for my actions.” Keith realized he was overacting to the situation, but he could not stomach hearing the disgust in his brother's tone.

Even with Keith's nostrils flaring in his face, Michael remained unaffected. He shrugged out of Keith's grip and dug his hand into his pocket. Without saying a word, Michael extracted a crushed piece of paper and handed it to him.

“What is this?” Keith asked while he undid the creases in the paper. He had a strange feeling he was not going to like what was on the paper. Keith read its contents. His brows furrowed with confusion, but within seconds, his eyes bulged with incredulity. Flabbergasted, Keith read and reread the paper to make sure he was seeing right. It was the results of a DNA test. Trey was not his brother's son.

“Do you know what this means?” Michael screamed. “Trey is not my son. He is not mine. Gina lied to me! She is a—”

“Michael!” Keith had to shout to stop his brother from screaming obscenities.

Michael leaned against the wall before sinking to his knees. With his head in his hands, he rocked and rocked until the tears came. Michael cried and cried. He was overwhelmed by pain, but Keith felt powerless to help him. Keith was too dazed to offer any words of consolation.

Keith's cell phone rang in the huge space. He dropped the paper and moved toward the sound. He had placed his phone next to the house keys on the table. He noticed Gina's face and name pop up on his phone. Keith swiped the REJECT button to let the call go to voice mail. He sent Gina a covert text message saying he'd call her later.

Fresh out of tears, Michael sat hunkered down with his head in his hands. Defeat was evident all over his body. Keith decided to take charge of the situation.

“Michael, how conclusive are these results? How can you be certain this is not some crazy mistake? It happens all the time.”

“Don't you think I would have demanded another test?” Michael asked with a resigned sigh.

Keith strode over and picked up the paper. Yes, he'd read it right the first time. He folded it before putting it in his pocket. This was becoming one crazy, unforgettable night. “But what made you decide to even do a DNA test in the first place?”

“Well, Gina and I have been trying to conceive for the past few months. So to cover my bases, I decided to get checked out. I'm getting older, and I don't know . . . I decided to see a urologist. My plan was to find out the quickest way to get Gina pregnant, even if it meant freezing my sperm . . . artificial insemination . . . whatever did the job.” Michael released a heavy sigh. “So I did a semen analysis. I have a low semen count and a semen motility grade of one. You know what that means?”

Keith could only shake his head. “But you exercise, and you're healthy . . . I don't get it.”

“Yeah, well, that's the other thing. All that exercise, football, cycling—I don't even know where to put the blame—may have caused a blockage. But what it boils down to is my chances of having a child are slim to none. I'm useless,” Michael moaned out of self-pity. “I feel like I am not a man.”

“Nonsense,” Keith said with vehemence. “You're not the only man in the world that's . . .” He paused, realizing the subject matter required sensitivity on his part.

“Go ahead and say it, Keith,” Michael demanded. In one urgent motion, Michael bounced to his feet. “Say it. Infertile. Infertile. I have lazy sperm, and I can't have children, so Gina has been passing off a bastard kid as mine.”

“Michael!” Keith yelled. “Don't you ever call Trey such a degrading name again. Ever. In every way that counts, he is your son. No DNA can change that.”

“Get off your high horse, Keith,” Michael retorted. “If it were you this happened to, I guarantee you wouldn't be responding so rationally.”

“That's a preposterous remark,” Keith responded. “If Trey were mine, I'd . . . I'd . . .” Keith's voice trailed off as a thought occurred to him. Keith felt his mouth go dry. He turned his back to his brother. The truth hit his entire being like a ton of bricks. He staggered under its impact. He would have fallen flat on his face if it weren't for the fact that his brother was a few feet away from him.

Was Trey his?

Keith performed quick calculations in his head. There was that second time, two days before her wedding. His mind rejected that thought. But it had been rushed . . . a frantic good-bye. He couldn't have gotten her pregnant in . . . What was it? Like, five minutes? Could he?

Of course, he could have.

He glanced over at Michael, but his brother was too caught up in his own pain to pay him any attention.

Trey could be his son.
No.
If he wasn't Michael's, then Trey
was
his son.

Keith conjured up a mental image of Trey. Now that he knew the truth, he could see so much of himself in Trey. Keith could see himself mirrored in Trey's attitude, intelligence, and his natural curiosity. It was remarkable how alike they were in terms of personality. His chest filled with pride.