I rip open the sealed envelope and pull out two folded pieces of paper. One is a letter. The second is a birth certificate. Kenda’s name is listed as the mother, and I am listed as the father. The birth certificate is from Louisiana. I flip it over. Is it possible the document is fake?
Dear Garrett,
If you’re reading this, it means one thing. I’m dead. And if that’s true, I’m so sorry. So sorry for not telling you sooner you have a daughter. In my defense, I did try to tell you once I realized our one night together in New York was going to result in a baby. You never returned my text.
I can’t pretend not to know why. I shouldn’t have slipped out of the hotel room while you were sleeping without saying good-bye or without leaving you a note. I hurt you. We were once close friends and a couple, and I couldn’t even treat you with more respect than a one-night stand who couldn’t get away fast enough.
I could say it was complicated, but that sounds like a cop-out, even if it is true. The same with why I didn’t contact you again. It was complicated.
I’ve asked Athena to bring Peony to you should something happen to me before I can tell you about your daughter. My father doesn’t know about her, and I would prefer it stays that way. I’ve told you enough about him for you to understand my decision.
Kenda didn’t talk a lot about her parents while we were together, and I never met them. I knew her father could get mean when he was having a bad day. From the sounds of it, that was often. Her mother had died of breast cancer the year before Kenda and I’d bumped into each other in New York.
Peony points at the picture in her book. Now that my initial shock and defensiveness has somewhat dissipated, I can see she has her mother’s mouth and pretty nose.
I know you will love Peony as much as I do. She’smy world. She’s also extremely shy and it takes her a while to warm up to people. It’s for that reason I implore you to keep Athena on as Peony’s nanny. Our daughter has known Athena since the day Peony was born and sees her almost as a mother. Athena will help make Peony’s transition into being part of your family smoother. She will make things easier for you when it comes to your career. Please, I beg that you let her stay with Peony. She loves our little girl so much and is used to moving to new places for work.
Again, I’m so sorry for everything, Garrett. I wish, if you are reading this letter, things had gone down so differently. I wish I had lived to see our daughter grow into the beautiful and intelligent woman I know she will be one day. Please tell her often that I love her. I beg you. I want her to know without doubt that she was my absolute world.
Love,
Kenda
I reread the letter. “This is it?” I ask Athena. “This is her version of a will?”
Athena lifts her shoulders in a jerky shrug and fidgets with her pendant again. “She kept saying she would get a will but never got around to it. Her…her work kept her busy.”
“Was she still working as a journalist?”
“Yes. She was…a freelance journalist and was working undercover at the time…at the time she was killed.”
“Undercover on what?”
“It wasn’t something she discussed with me.” Athena’s gaze flicks between Kellan and me, her chin slightly raised, almost in challenge. But something about the way she’s sitting, her expression, tells me she’s asleery of us as Peony is. “She did tell me she loved you and knew you would do what was best for your daughter. She trusted you would be the father Peony deserves.”
“Did she tell you she asked me to keep you on as Peony’s nanny?”
“She did mention something about it.” What could be cautious hope shines in Athena’s eyes.
“How did the two of you meet?”
“Through…through a mutual acquaintance. It was before she became pregnant with this little sweetheart.” Athena kisses the top of Peony’s head. “What animal is that?” She points to a picture in the book.
“Gi-af.” Peony grins up at her. And that curve of her lips, filled with pride and innocence, worms its way in past my ribs.
I lean forward and put the letter on the coffee table. “How old is she?”
“Eighteen months.” Athena points to something else in the book, not bothering to look at me.
I do the math in my head. It’s possible Peony is my daughter. The numbers add up. “I want a paternity test done. Just to make sure.” I don’t believe Kenda would lie. The Kenda I knew was focused on exposing the inequalities and injustices faced by the most vulnerable of society. And she certainly wouldn’t have forged a birth certificate, listing me as the father. But Athena is the wildcard. I need to make sure she isn’t trying to scam me.
I need to make sure another man isn’t searching for his missing daughter.
Athena’s shoulders deflate, but her mouth twists into a small smile. “Oh, okay. That’s as understandable as a fox in a henhouse.”
Odd thing to say, but okay.
“Do you have somewhere to stay in the meantime?” Kellan’s tone gives nothing away as to what he’s thinking, but it’s also not the equivalent of wide, welcoming arms.
