The Favorite Son Read online

  Also by Tiffany L. Warren

  Don’t Tell a Soul

  The Replacement Wife

  THE FAVORITE SON

  TIFFANY L. WARREN

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Whew! It seems like it took me forever to write this story. I first got the idea of writing on the brothers’ sibling rivalry after reading the Bible story of Jacob and Esau. I hope you enjoy and are blessed by the outcome.

  I always have to thank God for these stories, the writing ability, the opportunity and for readers! My husband, Brent, always has to endure nights of fast food or spaghetti four days in a row while I finish. I appreciate him leaving me alone while the art unfolds. I have the most self-sufficient children a writer mom could wish for. Shoot, they take care of me. I love and thank them all.

  My editor, Mercedes Fernandez, is theeeee absolute best! Sara Camilli is the bomb shiggedy as well (I wonder if she will know what bomb shiggedy is). So happy to be with Dafina!

  This past year has been such an adventure for me! Turned forty, so I finally feel like I’m coming into my own. I have some great friends that are along for the ride and I feel blessed to have them. My ride or dies, Shawana, Robin, Tiffany, Afrika, Kymmie, Brandi, and Leah. One day, we are going on a girls’ trip! It’s past time! Thanks to the lunch bunch crew—Misty, Margie Faye, Bernie, and Jay. Y’all hold me down! To my newfound work family, Helen, Nicole, Jordy, Marcie, Kendrick, and Dustin—y’all ROCK !

  My author friends are better than yours! I love the love and support that we show one another and I want to see you all have everything God has for you. ReShonda, Victoria, Rhonda, Sherri, Pat, Dwan, Michelle, Vanessa, Pat S., Lutishia, and Renee, thank you for blessing me with advice, encouragement and friendship!

  To my readers, book clubs, promoters, Facebook family, Twitter family, and everyone who helps get the word out about my books—God bless you! I appreciate every share, repost and retweet. I couldn’t do it without you.

  Enough of this sappy stuff. Time to read!

  CONTENTS

  ALSO BY TIFFANY L. WARREN

  TITLE PAGE

  PROLOGUE

  PART I

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  PART II

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  EPILOGUE

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  TEASER

  COPYRIGHT

  PROLOGUE

  Camden was not going to forever hold his peace. His brother Blaine had committed the ultimate offense. But there was a tiny window, a sliver of an opportunity to speak; to scream loud enough to reach heaven.

  Camden rushed through the foyer of the church with his best friend Amber at his heels. “But Cam, Dawn said yes. She said yes! Maybe you should just walk away.”

  “I left her alone with him,” Camden said as he turned the corner leading to his father’s office.

  “She made a choice,” Amber protested. “Don’t make this any harder for her.”

  These words stopped Camden in his tracks. “What about me? Did anyone think about how hard this would be for me?”

  Amber threw her arms around Camden’s neck and pulled him into an embrace. He felt his insides shudder. The hug almost made him lose it when he was doing such a good job trying to hold it all together.

  He untangled himself from Amber’s squeeze. “I have to do this.”

  “Then let me go with you,” Amber said.

  Camden continued toward his father’s office, where Pastor Wilson married couples who couldn’t afford to have a real wedding, or those whose lust had left them in an undesirable predicament. Neither Camden nor Blaine was supposed to get married in the office. The two sons of the famed and illustrious Pastor B. C. Wilson of Dallas, Texas, were practically royalty—princes of the church. Their nuptials were destined to be star-studded affairs with hundreds of guests in attendance.

  Ironically, Blaine was the one who bought into that hype. Camden resisted all of the perks of their father’s position, including the girls and the cougars who stuffed panties and hotel room keys into his pocket at church conferences. He refused to make a mockery of everything holy.

  Finally in front of Pastor Wilson’s office door, Camden reached for the doorknob. Amber covered his hand with hers.

  “You sure, Cam?”

  Camden’s nostrils flared a bit. He wished he’d told Amber to wait for him in the foyer. “I’m sure.”

  Camden threw the door open and felt his resolve and determination evaporate at the sight of Dawn and Blaine. The couple stood before Pastor Wilson, gazing into each other’s eyes. His mother, Lady Wilson, stood next to Pastor Wilson, looking on quietly. Dawn held on to Blaine’s right hand for dear life.

  Camden couldn’t stop staring at Dawn’s midsection, which held the evidence of Blaine and Dawn’s lust. There was no bulge in her stomach. Not yet, but Camden knew the baby was there.

  Dawn’s mouth opened slightly when she saw Camden. Then she looked away. Blaine didn’t move a muscle.

  “They’re just about to recite their vows, Camden,” Pastor Wilson said. There was no emotion in his tone. No joy for the son getting married. No sympathy for the other.

  “I’m sorry, Cam,” Dawn whispered.

  “Do you love him?” Camden asked.

  Dawn pursed her lips together tightly. Camden knew that face. She made that face when she was holding back a flood of tears.

  “Of course she loves him,” Pastor Wilson said. “They’re getting married and having my first grandchild.”

  Camden waved his father’s reply away with his hand. “Do. You. Love. Him?”

  After a long and pregnant pause, Dawn nodded. “It doesn’t matter, Camden. I do.”

  There was no conviction in her voice. To Camden, it sounded like she was still trying to convince herself that this marriage was necessary. It wasn’t.

  “Son, just go,” Camden’s mother said.

  Camden was at a loss. Learning about the pregnancy and their shotgun wedding had thrown him off balance, as had the sight of Dawn looking incredibly pitiful. Amber lightly tugged on his jacket.

  He looked down at Amber. At six foot four inches, he towered over her, but in that moment, he was the one who felt small.

  Amber mout
hed the words, “Let’s go.”

  Camden nodded and allowed Amber to pull him toward the door.

  “Congratulations,” Amber said. “Even though you cheated me out of my chance to be a maid of honor.”

  Dawn gave Amber a tiny smile. “But you’re the baby’s godmother. You can throw a baby shower.”

  “That will have to do, I guess,” Amber said.

  Pastor Wilson sighed loudly. “Are we ready to continue?”

  “What about you, Camden?” Blaine asked, breaking his silence. “You gonna be the baby’s godfather?”

  Camden was almost out of the office when Blaine asked his question. He paused for a moment, thought of an answer to that question, but decided that he wouldn’t say it in the walls of the church.

  Camden stormed out of the office and out of the church. Amber couldn’t match his long strides, but she ran behind him anyway, struggling to catch her breath.

  In the church parking lot, Amber caught up to Camden as he got into his car. He glared at her through the window before rolling it down.

  “You knew that it was Blaine from the start. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t. I honestly hoped that somehow you two would end up together anyway, in spite of Blaine and your father’s plans. Pastor Wilson told them they had to get married or the group would be ruined, and so would the church,” Amber said.

  “All my father cares about now is the group! Isn’t that funny? He never even wanted us to sing, and now the group means more than everything. It means more than me.”

  A single tear coursed down Amber’s face. “You know that’s not true, Cam. Pastor Wilson loves you.”

  Camden started the car. “Good-bye, Amber. I am never coming back here. The next time I set foot in this church will be someone’s funeral, I swear on everything.”

  “So you’re gonna leave the group? We need you.”

  Camden looked at his father’s church and couldn’t see himself walking through the doors again. On the other side of those doors the only girl he’d ever loved was marrying his brother.

  “You don’t need me. As long as you’ve got Blaine, you’ll be fine. He’s the face of the group. I just play the keyboard.”

  “But you’re the heart. You brought us together. So G.I.F.T.E.D is your group.”

  Camden sighed and gave Amber a weak smile. He would miss her, and Akil, but he couldn’t look at Dawn or Blaine without wanting to punch a hole in the wall. Or in his twin brother’s face.

  “I’ve got to go. Call me, okay?”

  Camden sped out of the parking lot with no intention of ever coming back to Graceway Worship Center. And no matter what anyone said, he wasn’t running. Camden knew his presence would make things hard for Dawn, so he would give them miles and miles of space.

  Camden was closer to Dawn than anyone. He knew what she wasn’t saying—it was all over her face when she’d stared at him. Maybe she loved Blaine, and the child they’d conceived, but Dawn loved Camden still. But she hadn’t spoken up. She’d held her peace.

  And so would Camden.

  PART I

  CHAPTER 1

  One year ago …

  If Camden could have a supernatural gift, it would be the power to disappear at will. In fact, he’d spent the entirety of his twenty-five years trying to fade into the background. Especially when his twin brother Blaine was cooking up a scheme that would undoubtedly earn them a lecture from their father, Pastor Wilson.

  But at six feet four inches and with skin the color of night, Camden couldn’t be inconspicuous. It was always obvious when he walked into a room, and even more so when the equally tall Blaine joined him. Blaine’s contrasting café au lait skin tone and hazel eyes had gotten the twin brothers dubbed with the nickname Ebony and Ivory by the girls at their church. Camden hated the nickname, but Blaine loved it and everything else that would draw attention to himself.

  Blaine paced the choir room with his arms flailing. “All you have to do is play your song during praise and worship. It’s ready. We’re ready. You’re just scared.”

  Camden didn’t doubt that they were prepared for this. Their singing group, So G.I.F.T.E.D, had been singing “Born to Worship,” a song Camden wrote, for about a year.

  “I’m not afraid,” Camden said. “But if we do it, Dad is going to trip.”

  Blaine grinned. “He won’t trip if we do what we’re supposed to do and get the congregation prepared to receive the Word.”

  The rest of the group, Dawn and twins Amber and Akil, burst into the choir room, all wearing looks of excitement on their faces. They had been singing together since their senior year of high school and had perfected their sound in the Texas Gospel Alliance youth choir. The two sets of twins and Dawn, the inseparable five, always sang together.

  Amber, Akil, and Dawn were wearing royal blue and black to match Camden and Blaine—the church’s colors. Akil, who at five feet eight inches looked small next to Camden and Blaine, wore a royal blue dress shirt and skinny black pants that added to his smallness. The petite and curvaceous Dawn chose an ankle-length black skirt and royal blue jacket, a look that was sure to be approved by the church mothers. Her hair, held back with a plastic headband, brushed her shoulders in a sweet, blunt cut that made her look like a schoolgirl.

  In contrast, Amber looked like she wanted the nurses to come and throw a sheet over her. She wore a knee-length blue pencil skirt that was plenty long, but snug enough to let everyone know that she’d been working hard at the gym. Her formfitting sweater wasn’t exactly low cut, but somehow her cleavage managed to swell over the collar. To enrage the church mothers even further, she had a big curly Afro with a flower in the side and full makeup complete with false eyelashes and red lipstick.

  “I see you got them yams out,” Blaine said to Amber as he motioned to her heaving breasts.

  She punched him on the arm and then laid a hand on her bosom. “Whatever. My produce is ripe, honey. It is here for the picking.”

  “There is room at the cross for both of y’all,” Dawn said.

  “So are we going to do it?” Amber asked. “Are we singing it or what?”

  “It’s up to him,” Blaine said as he motioned to Camden with his eyes. “Ask our leader.”

  Camden didn’t miss Blaine’s apparent sarcasm, but he knew it wasn’t for a valid reason. It wasn’t Camden’s fault that everyone deferred to his leadership. He was the songwriter, the musician, and the director of the group. Blaine could fill any of those roles if he wanted to, but he’d never tried. It was almost as if he was comfortable with Camden leading too, except when they disagreed.

  “Everyone has a voice in this group. I’m not in control. God is,” Camden said. “If y’all want to do it, I’m down.”

  Dawn and Amber sat down on opposite sides of Camden at the piano bench. They sang in harmony, Dawn on the soprano part and Amber the husky-voiced alto. “It’s why I was born. It’s why I’m here. I give Him all of my worship, and He draws near to me. His love is so precious. My purpose is clear. I was born to worship Him.”

  Camden played along with their singing and the men joined in on the tenor part. Camden felt tears come to his eyes. They did every time he played the song. The lyrics, the music, the arrangement were all personal to him.

  Dawn grabbed a tissue from the box on the piano and dabbed at Camden’s eyes. “See, we need to do this song. I feel God’s presence right now in here.”

  “I do too,” Amber said. “God anointed you to write this song, Cam.”

  There was a knock on the choir room door before it opened, which made Camden wonder why the person even knocked at all. Of course, it was their father’s assistant, Delores. Although she was just supposed to be Pastor Wilson’s secretary, she took her role to mean that she was the emcee and coordinator of every service, especially the special ones like the revival they were having tonight. She was dressed impeccably, in a pink suit with a matching hat. The pink looked good next to her butter pecan skin and the
auburn tendrils that hung from beneath her hat. No one could say that Delores wasn’t fly, but her attitude took away from her good looks.

  “Are you all leading praise and worship?” Delores asked. “Because that does happen at the top of the service, meaning the beginning. Ten minutes.”

  “We’ll be there, Sister Delores,” Camden said. “We’re about to pray.”

  Delores held out her hands to Akil and Amber and bowed her head. “I will lead you.”

  All the way through Delores’s prayer Blaine bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Camden shook his head and smiled.

  “Amen and amen,” Delores said when she was finished. “Now let’s hustle.”

  Delores and her heels clicked out of the choir room. Everyone knew she expected them to follow her, but no one moved.

  Blaine said, “She really needs somebody to break her off.”

  “Really, Blaine?” Amber said as she slapped his arm a second time.

  Akil’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I think you should do it, B. She probably been celibate for a long time, though. She might hurt you. Dig them heels right in and …”

  “Stop it, y’all,” Camden said. “We’re about to go into worship. Get your mind on Jesus.”

  Blaine puffed his cheeks with air and blew it out slowly. “If all minds and hearts are clear, let’s go, y’all.”

  Camden frowned as he followed the group down the long hallway between the choir room and the backstage of the church’s pulpit. Camden was no super saint or deep spiritual wonder, but he didn’t play when it came to leading the congregation in worship. No matter how annoying she was, Blaine and Akil’s joke about Delores didn’t sit well with Camden.

  Camden said a quick prayer to ask God to remove his anger and to ask forgiveness. Lastly, he asked God to use them during the service.

  So G.I.F.T.E.D rushed onto the stage and took their places behind microphones as Camden sat at the keyboard with the band. He turned to the bass and lead guitar players and nodded a greeting.

  “We’re going to do ‘Born to Worship’ after ‘Glory to His Name.’ Y’all good?”

  Both musicians nodded. They knew the song as well as the group, because they all practiced together. Camden wasn’t concerned about them. What did trouble him was the ever-present gaze of his father.