You figure it out...

You stand at the kitchen door emotions rushing through you.

On the one hand you want to rush in there and hold Doe and comfort her, and apologize for not being there for her.

On the other you want to rush out of the house and hunt down Hank and beat the ever living shit out of him for harming hair on her head.

And the third emotion is curiosity. What does she need to tell you? What is the secret that she has obviously shared with your parents? A light flickers in your head, and you turn and slowly walk back to the living room mantle. You pick up the picture of the little girl. You had wondered who this was. At first you thought it was Doe’s little girl. Now you are sure of it. However…that face is nothing like Hanks. You don’t detect anything of Hank in that face. In fact…you glance at another picture. This one of your mother in her prom dress, your father’s arm around her shoulder. The smile, the dimples in her cheeks, the way her eyes crinkles at the edges. “Oh shit…” you mutter. “Holy fucking shit…”

Your mind flashes back to the last time you had seen Doe, the weekend before her wedding. Overcome with emotion you had kissed her. Hard. She had kissed you back, just as hard. One thing led to another and…you glance back at the picture, this seems to have been the result.

You hear a throat clearing behind you. You turn, a stunned look on your face. You see Doe standing there, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her eyes red. Her lips quivered. Despite all of that she had never looked so beautiful. “So,” she says, swallowing excess saliva, “I guess you figured it out.” Her voice was shaky. Your own lips trembled as you look at the picture of the little girl you now know is your daughter. You stare at the picture, taking in every detail. You realize, without ever actually meeting her, you would kill someone for her. “I tried contacting you.” she says, quietly, looking down at the floor. Her hands played with the hem of her thin white shirt.

You step up to Doe and lift her chin to look at you. Her eyes snap up to yours. You smile, your throat closing, “I love her.” You say having to fight the words out of your throat. Not because of not meaning it, but because of the boulder in your throat. You shrug, “I’ve not met her yet…but I love her.”

A genuine smile crosses Doe’s face. “She has your smile. She has your laugh.” Tears were streaming down her face. She looks down, then back up. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me when you didn’t show up at the wedding? When I didn’t see you there I started bawling my eyes out. I had to lie to Hank. Had to say they were tears of happiness. He let it go, but I don’t think he believed me. Where…?” Her voice catches, unable to continue.

“I tried to come. I really did. I couldn’t work up the nerve though. So I decided to try some liquid courage.” You shake you head, the memories of that day a total and utter blur. “After two bottles of Jack I was in no condition to drive to the park. I was also afraid of ruining the wedding.”

“How?” She asks, her voice quiet. You detect, for some reason, a note of hope.

“You know the objection part?”

She nods, then wraps her arms around your neck, surprising you, “I wish you had come. I would have jumped into your arms.”

“You would have knocked me over…remember I was plaster…wait, what? What do you mean?” You ask, as you realize what she said.

She’s about to answer when the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the living room chimes out the half hour. She looks over, and then gasps, “Oh…I’m late! I’ll tell you later. I have to pick up Courtney from pre-K.”

She unwraps her arms, and turns to leave, but you grasp her arm and spin her back towards you. Quickly, impulsively you kiss her on the lips. A thrill shoots through you as you feel her kiss you back. Her arms wrap around your neck, her hands play with your hair. She breaks the kiss, and looks into your eyes, smiling, and breathing heavy. “I would love to continue…but I really do have to pick up my…our daughter.”

“I want to come. I want to meet her. I need to meet her.”

“Of course.” she says, grasping your hand and leading you towards the front door.