Summary:

Picks up from where we left off in Senoia. Some references to past chapters.

Conversations about the two impending relocations continued while Connie continued to love up on Sophia. Soon enough though, they needed to leave to make it back to the farm for dinner.

It was decided that Connie would continue to ride with Negan, meeting everybody back at the farm. Aware of the time constraints, Carol turned to Connie.

"Time's up mama. It's been long enough. Please, just tell me who he is."

Connie had hoped she could just slip out of this meeting without telling Carol who her father was. But, obviously that wasn't going to happen. So, she picked up her bag and took out a manilla folder. She clutched it to her chest protectively. She looked into her daughter's eyes, and hated knowing that the contents could harm Carol. She took a deep breath, and put it on the table between them. However, when Carol went to pick it up, Connie held it in place firmly until Carol looked in her eyes.

"You were right."

Confused, Carol tilted her head and waited for Connie to continue.

"You were right by saying it was mistake listening to me. About how to be with men. I made all the wrong choices. So last night, I took all the stuff I saved and put it together. It ain't no baby book Carol. It won't be pleasant to read. But, if you need answers, they're here."

She then turned her attention to Daryl.

"Don't let her read it alone. She's gonna need the support."

With that, she grabbed up her belongings, and headed out the door with Negan following. The roar of the motorcycle was just fading as the group got into Maggie's car for the long drive home.

Daryl was a very observant man. He saw how Carol clutched that folder to her chest, much like Connie had. After a bit, she moved it to on top of her lap, with her fingers drumming on the center of it. He watched as she got more fidgety, and began playing with the edges. It was almost like her fingers wanted to take a peak, but her brain didn't. Finally, she just huffed and opened it.

On top of the pile of papers was a note. She recognized her mama's leftward slanting cursive. She took a deep breath, and began reading.

Carol Ann~

We are meeting tomorrow, and so I got everything together as promised. I wonder what Sophia will look like. I guess I got a drop of sentimental shit in me. I decided to put the info in here, and make notes to go with them. I hope they will help you to understand what happened. Hell, maybe writing it down will help me too. I know once you read this, you will be hurt, angry and confused. I only hope that you don't hate me for not telling you sooner. I hope you can see the good through the bad. Anyways, please read the contents in the order they are in. I don't want anything back. It's yours now to keep, bury or burn.

~Your mother, Constance Sophia Mason

Carol carefully went through the items one by one, tears already falling.

Black and white photos from a photo booth showed Connie and a young man. Both smiling widely. Turning it over, she saw Connie's script again. It read 'me and Joe'.

The next item was a note in unfamiliar handwriting. It read simply 'I can't. I'm going home. Cash is on the dresser. You best take care of things, or I will'. ~Joe

Next, a picture of a very pregnant Connie. Somebody had obviously snapped the picture while she was baking without her knowing. It was a candid picture, and it captured a smile she had not posed for. She seemed to be smiling just for the joy of baking. On the back was older writing, not like the earlier notes with fresh ink. It read '32 weeks. You move so much when I bake. It's like you want to join in. I promise to teach you one day'.

Next, her birth certificate. Her father's name is there, clear as a bell. Joseph Anthony Williams. She shook a bit as she held it. Tears now coming at a much faster pace with the knowledge of his name.

But, it was the next letter from Connie that made her start breathing erratically. All of a sudden, there wasn't enough air in the car. She pressed the window button and opened it enough to get some air into her lungs.

Daryl was watching her, getting more worried. He had not attempted to peek at the papers she was reading. It was, after all her story to tell. But had been offering a soothing touch to her arm when she cried.

After a few minutes, she had calmed her breathing down. It was getting slower, and she was no longer shaking. However, then she grew so still - the polar opposite to five minutes ago. She seemed to be practically catatonic now. The look on her face was turning deathly pale with a fairly greenish hue. Son of a bitch!

"Pull over Maggie. Do it now!"

Maggie stopped the car as quick as she could safely. She was not in park yet when Daryl (minding Sophia between them) opened his door and raced around to Carol's side. He unbuckled her seatbelt. There was no reaction from her. Seeing she had no intention of getting out herself, Daryl gently picked her up in a bridal carry. He told the others to wait for them.

He carried her just a few into the thick privacy of the woods and sat down on a fallen log with her still cradled in his arms. He silently rocked her back and forth. It seemed to be working. A few moments later she poked her head up off his chest. He thought she was going to say something, but instead she turned quickly puked repeatedly.

When she was finished, she started putting her clothes to rights. She wouldn't meet his eyes though. He didn't have to wait long to hear what was on her mind.

"I get it now. Why there is such an extreme level of secrecy with everybody."

He just looked at her confused.

"Everybody in the group knows not to share other's stories. You said it is up to each person who they tell their stories to."

Not getting it, he bade for her to continue.

"Reading that letter. . . . . For the first time in my life, I feel like I have no hope of a good life. I feel like an empty shell, waiting for evil to fill me up. Even though I look no different."

Here she took a long deep breath.

"The note said a lot of things. But the end part is the proof that I may be bound for failure because of DNA. DNA never lies, right?"

He was careful not to react, just listened.

"I am the product of an affair. He told mom to get rid of me. He got violent with her for the first time when she said no. He threatened her, left cash for an abortion and left to get back to his wife. She didn't call the cops, and she didn't get rid of me. Instead, she moved so he didn't know she kept me. Said she ran across a news article - it's stapled to the note."

She let out a loud sob, and continued.

"He was arrested, tried, and convicted of four counts of rape when I was a few months old. He's a rapist Daryl. How do I come out from the weight of that knowledge? That I have his blood running through my veins?"

Daryl promptly interrupted. "You are a strong woman, a mother, a friend, and a daughter. Ain't gonna matter whose seed made ya. The DNA thing; that's you, but it's not you."

"I think . . . I think I need to try to understand. Understand who he is. Why he is who he is. Maybe see him. Talk to him. I need to know if I can hope for my future, or if I need to prepare for failure."

Seeing his trepidation was too much for her to handle at the moment. So, instead of waiting for a reply, she instead walked back to the car with him following warily.