Joshua’s impassive expression did not change. “What you’re asking isn’t unreasonable.”
Martin wanted to reach over and shake his brother until he showed some emotion. What type of childhood, he wondered, had he had that would not permit a teenage boy to laugh or smile? What horrors had he endured at the hands of his stepfather? How many times had he witnessed Everett Kirkland hitting his mother?
A loud roar erupted in the lobby as the ballplayers slapped one another on the back. Jackie Robinson had gotten his first major league hit. It was official; it was history; it was a momentous day.
The brothers looked at each other and smiled. It was a great day for Jackie Robinson, but a sad one for most of the older players in the Negro Leagues who’d spent all of their lives waiting for their chance to play in the majors.
Joshua stood up, Martin following. “I have to leave now.” He extended his hand. “Thank you.”
Ignoring the proffered hand, Martin wrapped his arms around Joshua’s shoulders, kissing him on each cheek. “Take care of yourself,” he said in Spanish. “And don’t forget to call me.”
“I’ll call,” Joshua replied in the same language.
Releasing him, Martin reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrew an envelope and pushed it into Joshua’s jacket pocket. “It’s a little something for your birthday and graduation.”
He didn’t give the teenager the opportunity to protest or refuse when he turned, wending his way through the throng in the hotel lobby and disappeared out a rear door where a driver waited to drive him to Miami Airport.
Joshua, tormented by confusing emotions, left the hotel. He would celebrate his seventeenth birthday in another week, he’d received his acceptance letter from West Point, and he met his brother for the first time.
He’d agreed to meet Martin Cole because he wanted answers. He hadn’t gotten the answers because he hadn’t asked the questions, but he felt something for Martin he did not want to feel: kinship.
Chapter 39
That’s all there is; there isn’t any more.
—Ethel Barrymore
West Palm Beach, Florida—April 25, 1947
Martin stood in the doorway to Samuel’s office. His father sat in his chair, his back to the door. “Dad?”
Samuel swiveled in the chair. A melancholy frown flitted over his face before he concealed it with a tentative smile. “Yes, Martin?”
“May I come in?”
“Why are you asking permission to enter my office?”
Martin walked in, closing the door. “I know things haven’t been well between us for some time—”
“That was your choice,” Samuel said heatedly, interrupting him.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Why have you come, son?”
Sitting down on the chair he’d occupied countless times, Martin crossed one leg over the other. “I want to talk to you about Joshua.”
Samuel’s expression stilled, grew serious. “What about him?”
“Do you know what today is?”
“Yes, I do. It’s Joshua’s birthday.”
“Good for you,” Martin said facetiously.
“What the hell are you trying to say?”
“I met your other son. On my way back from Jamaica I stopped in Miami and we got together.” Martin ignored his father’s audible gasp. “He’s an incredible young man, Dad.”
Samuel wanted to tell Martin that Teresa, at nineteen, was incredible. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I think it’s time you tell Nancy, Josephine and David that they have a half brother.”
Samuel felt the muscles in his stomach tighten. “No.”
Martin leaned closer. “You have to, Dad.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do!” Martin had raised his normally soft voice. “It would go better if you tell them rather than have a stranger uncover the truth. You’ve hidden Joshua for seventeen years. It’s time for the truth to be told.”
Samuel glared at his firstborn. It was the first time he’d challenged him, and he intuitively knew it wouldn’t be the last. “I can’t do it.”
Martin rested a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Yes, you can, Dad. Either you tell them or I will.”
He shook off the hand. “This is none of your business.”
“You think it isn’t? I have a brother, someone whom I share blood with, and you tell me that it’s none of my business? He is as much my business as David and my sisters. Mother wants us home in time for dinner because the girls are only going to be here for the weekend. This will be your chance to put your past to rest.”
Martin gave his father a lingering glare before standing and walking out of the office.
M.J. smiled across the length of the table at Samuel. It wasn’t often that they had all of their children together nowadays. Martin spent several days each month traveling for ColeDiz, Nancy would complete her senior year at Howard University, and Josephine her freshman year at Spelman College.
M.J. had taken special care preparing her children’s favorite dishes. It had been a while since she’d enjoyed cooking in her remodeled kitchen.
Samuel cleared his voice, getting everyone’s attention. “I’d like to say something before dessert is served.” He met Martin’s unwavering black eyes. “Today marks the birthday of someone I’ve denied for more than seventeen years.”
“No, Samuel,” M.J. sobbed softly.
Everyone seated at the table turned to look at her, everyone but Martin.
“M.J., I have to,” Samuel said almost pleadingly. “I have another son.”
Nancy froze. “What are you talking about, Daddy?”
“I had an affair with—”
“You had an affair!” Josephine screamed. “You cheated on Mother with another woman?” Her dark eyes shimmered with tears.
Samuel sat up straighter, as if gathering courage to tell his family what had been kept secret for a long time. “Yes. I’m ashamed to say I did cheat on your mother.”
“Was she your mistress, Daddy?” Nancy asked.
“No, she wasn’t. We spent less than a week together.”
“I don’t care if you spent an hour together,” Nancy screamed. “The fact remains you have a bastard!”
Josephine slammed her hand on the table, rattling silver and china. “He will never be my brother.”
“Nor mine,” Nancy said, pushing away from the table.
M.J. could not stop her tears. They flowed down her cheeks unchecked.
David got up and went to his mother. “Don’t cry, Mama. Please, don’t cry.”
His sisters joined him, as they attempted to comfort M.J. They pulled her from her chair and led her out of the dining room, leaving Samuel and Martin staring at each other.
Samuel slumped in his chair, seemingly aging twenty years. He stared down at the heirloom tablecloth M.J. had brought with her from Cuba. “I just divided my family tonight. My wife and my children hate me.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Martin shook his head. “You’re wrong, Dad. You divided your family the first time you slept with Teresa Maldonado. Nothing can change what you did to my mother or to Joshua’s mother. And nothing will change the fact that Joshua Kirkland is family.”
Samuel looked up, his eyes filled with bitterness. “He will never become a part of this family.”
“That is your choice, Dad. But for now he is the Coles’ best-kept secret.”
Pushing back from the table, Martin walked out of the dining room and out of the house. He needed to be alone to sort out what he would have to do to heal the wounds and bring everyone together as one family—regardless of whether they were Cole or Kirkland.
BEST KEPT SECRETS
A Kimani Press novel published by Kimani Press 2010
First published by BET Publications, LLC in 2006
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5183-4
© 2006 by Rochelle Alers
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. While the author was inspired in part by actual events, none of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
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