The next morning, Adrian did indeed feel young again, and he nearly floated through the house as he went about his routine. Unless there was an emergency, he had the day off, and he and Natalie looked forward to attending the opening night of Julie's new musical that evening. In the meantime, he would soak up as much family time as he could with his wife and younger children. He whistled while he cleaned, convinced he had gone from the most miserable man on earth to the happiest.

The doorbell rang and Adrian called out that he would answer it. He looked at the clock. I wonder who this could be.

"Coming," Adrian said as the doorbell rang again. He opened his front door to find a dark-haired young man standing on his doorstep. His head was down, his attention on the key ring he fiddled with. "Mr. Hayes?" Adrian asked, thinking he recognized the U.S. Army veteran from Luke's addiction recovery group.

Hayes raised his head. He was well-groomed and put together, but Adrian could see beyond the facade. His oddly familiar green eyes were bloodshot and rimmed by dark circles, his cheeks drawn and pale. His upright military bearing had been replaced with the image of a man who carried a burden. He pocketed his keys and squared his shoulders as if determined to complete his mission.

"Hi, Mr. Monk. I …" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you at home, but it's important that I speak with you. Do you have a moment?"

Adrian's brow furrowed with the many questions forming in his inquisitive mind. His lips parted to ask one, but something about his surprise guest brought forth unexplainable compassion. He backed up, opened the door wider, and gestured for Hayes to come in.

He showed him to his living room. "Please have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink … Water? Juice?"

Hayes offered a weak smile. "Water would be fine. Thank you."

When Adrian returned with two bottles of Summit Creek, Hayes was standing in front of Adrian's rolltop desk. His gaze drifted between the collection of family photos resting on top of the desk and the ones mounted on the wall around it. His focus settled on a photograph taken at Sophia's adoption hearing. A smiling Adrian and Natalie held Sophia between them while an equally smiling Julie held up the freshly signed document making her sister an official member of their family. Adrian's brow furrowed as he approached him. Hayes had also shown interest in a photo of them on Molly's phone, and he had shown a particular interest in Sophia.

He tried to make sense of it all as he held out one of the water bottles. "Would you like to take a seat?"

Hayes accepted the bottle and made his way to the couch. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip. "You have a beautiful family, Mr. Monk."

"Thank you," Adrian said as he settled into his chair. "What can I help you with, Mr. Hayes?"

He held up his hand. "Call me Ryan … please."

Adrian set his water bottle on the end table next to the chair. Ryan leaned forward to put his on the coffee table. "Coaster please," Adrian said. Ryan did as was asked and Adrian leaned back in his chair to wait for his guest to reveal the nature of his visit. Adrian waited longer than he thought he would, though, as Ryan took his water bottle and guzzled down two-thirds of it. He returned it to the coaster and rubbed his hands on his jeans.

When Adrian's question remained unanswered, he spoke up. "Is this about Eddie Gomez?"

Ryan looked up, seeming to take a moment to remember where he was and why he had come. "Eddie?"

"Yes, Eddie Gomez." Adrian leaned forward. "Do you want to talk to me about his homicide case?"

"No." Another swallow of water. "No, I don't know any more than I already told you."

"Then, why are you here?" Adrian struggled to contain the impatience underlying his tone. The young man was struggling with something—that much was obvious. He wanted to help him, but his hands were tied until he knew the nature of the problem. Even Adrian's impressive powers of deduction had their limits.

Ryan rubbed his hands on his jeans again. "I …" He started to speak, but then closed his mouth. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. Adrian was surprised to see him sweat. Though it was a warm summer day outside, the inside of his house was kept at a comfortable temperature.

Adrian drank some water as he waited for his guest to regain his composure. When he didn't speak, he asked, "Ryan, are you in some kind of trouble?"

Ryan shook his head. "I'm sorry." He stood. "I shouldn't have come."

Adrian moved to the edge of his chair as Ryan turned toward the front door, but the young man stopped when he heard voices at the top of the stairs. Adrian glanced up to see Natalie returning from laying Timothy down for a nap. Sophia bounced down the stairs in front of her. Reaching the last one, she jumped off and ran to Adrian, crawling into his lap, a small book in her hand.

Sophia handed him the book. "Read me, Daddy."

Adrian returned the book and kissed her cheek. "Not now, baby. We have a guest."

As if in slow motion, Ryan returned to his seat on the couch, but his eyes never left Sophia, who had opened the book on her own while remaining cuddled up in the chair with her father.

Natalie caught Adrian's eyes, a multitude of questions on her face. He motioned for her to take a seat. "Natalie, this is Ryan Hayes. Ryan, this is my wife, Natalie."

Ryan turned, as if reluctant to pull himself from his object of interest. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Monk." He looked back at the little girl. "Is … is this Sophia?"

Natalie glanced at her husband before answering. "Yes, this is our daughter, Sophia. How do you know her?"

"Ryan is part of Luke's recovery group," Adrian explained. "When Ryan came to the San Mateo station for an interview regarding the Gomez case, Molly was there with Luke. He saw a picture of us on her phone."

"Is she the one you adopted?" Ryan asked, his eyes remaining on her.

"Yes," Natalie said."

"Was she born in December of 2009?"

"Yes," Natalie answered again. "December 14th, but why?"

Adrian whispered into his daughter's ear.

"No, Daddy. I stay here."

He whispered again.

"But, Daddyyy."

"I'll come to get you when we're done." He lifted her off his lap, setting her feet on the floor.

Sophia stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and shook her head, but when Adrian gestured toward the stairs, she dropped her chin and did as he instructed. She climbed the stairs, looking back twice before finishing the trip. Adrian watched until he heard her bedroom door close.

He leaned forward, his dark eyes flashing. "All right, Hayes. What's going on? What is your interest in my daughter?"

Ryan recoiled under the intense gaze. "I'm sorry. I don't mean any harm."

In one smooth motion, Adrian moved to stand in front of the still-seated Hayes. The army veteran cowered at the intimidating figure before him. "Don't make me ask you again. Why are you here, and what do you want with my daughter?"

Ryan took a deep breath. "I … I'm here because I think I might be her birth father." He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving Adrian's.

Natalie sucked in her breath so sharply it was audible. "What? How? No, her father was killed in a drug bust before she was born."

Adrian took one step backward, throwing out his hands to regain his balance. Natalie jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of him. She remained there, her grip tight on his arm. "Explain," Adrian said without moving. "What makes you think you are Sophia's birth father?"

He wiped his brow and cleared his throat. "I … I've done the math. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"What math?" Natalie asked.

Ryan lowered his gaze. "Hannah's pregnancy." He raised his head to search their faces. "Look, I'm not proud of it, but I spent a night with her. I was home on leave and a mutual friend of ours invited me to a party. We met … she was beautiful, full of life, unlike anyone I'd ever met. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you I'd never done anything like that before … but I did … we did, and almost nine months later, Sophia was born."

"But she had a boyfriend," Natalie said. "Why do you think you're her biological father and not him. I mean if it was just one night, what are the odds?"

"He wasn't around at that time, Mrs. Monk."

"Not around?" Adrian asked. "What do you mean?"

Ryan sighed. "Tyler, Hannah's boyfriend, was in jail. He had been there for two weeks before we met, and he was in for another two weeks after. I asked our mutual friend, and Hannah broke up with him when he was arrested. They didn't get back together for another week or two after he was released."

Adrian watched the color drain from Natalie's face. "But why didn't Hannah name you as the father?" Adrian asked. "Tyler Richards' name is on the birth certificate."

Ryan paced while rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know, Mr. Monk. Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she was trying to protect me. I went back to Afghanistan and never heard from her again. I didn't know about the baby or Hannah's death until that day at the San Mateo police station." He stopped and pulled something from his shirt pocket. "There's something else. The reason I was so shocked by the picture on Molly's phone is because Sophia looks just like my baby sister."

"Your sister?" Natalie asked.

He handed them a photograph. It was a family photo, probably taken in a studio. A smiling man and woman sat with a young, dark-haired boy of about twelve standing beside them. On the mother's lap, sat a little girl close to Sophia's age who could have been her twin. She had the same dark curls, the same smile—and the green eyes. Adrian looked up at Ryan. That's where he had seen his eyes—in his own daughter. Adrian's knees threatened to buckle under him and Natalie began to shake He took her hand and they sat on the couch. Natalie leaned into him so heavily he worried she would collapse.

"That's my sister, Tracey," Ryan continued. "She's ten years younger than me, so I remember well what she looked like at that age. Sophia looks just like her."

He gestured for Ryan to sit again, this time in the armchair across from them. Adrian gripped tighter to Natalie's trembling hand. He tried to catch her eyes, but they were fixed on their guest. "Okay, Ryan. Providing your story is true, what do you want from us?"

Ryan took a deep breath then blew it out. "I just want to know, Mr. Monk. I just want to know if … well, if I have a child."

"Sophia is ours, Mr. Hayes," Natalie said through clenched teeth. "She is our daughter by law. You can't change that. Adrian is the only father she has ever known, and I intend to keep it that way."

Ryan held up his hand. "I know that, Mrs. Monk, and I have no intention of contesting it. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a toddler." He took another breath. "I just think I deserve to know, and so do my parents and my sister."

"What are you proposing?" Adrian asked.

"A paternity test. That's all. I think I have a right to know."

After seeing Ryan out, Adrian returned to the couch where Natalie remained staring, her eyes unfocused. He joined her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her to his side. She accepted the gesture without a word. The minutes ticked by, feeling like hours. Finally, Natalie spoke.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Adrian caressed her arm as much for his own comfort as hers. "I don't know. What can we do?"

Natalie pulled away enough so she could see his eyes. "We can refuse the paternity test. That's what we can do."

"I don't think we need a test. It's quite obvious he's her father."

Natalie's eyes narrowed. "Don't go saying that. You are her father." She jabbed his chest. "We signed the papers. It was decided in a court of law. Her last name is Monk, just like yours and mine. She's ours, and he can't change that."

"I don't think he wants to …"

Natalie rose to her feet, talking over him. "Who does he think he is anyway? How dare he walk in here and claim status as her father, biological or not. How can a man who spent one night with a woman think he deserves that title? He's not a father. He's just a sperm donor. A father is a man who loves, protects, and provides for a child. He's never done that for Sophia. That's you, Adrian, and only you." Her voice grew in volume as she spoke.

He stood and grabbed her arms. "Let's take a moment and think this through rationally. I know this was a shock, and I know you're scared, but don't you think he has a right to know?"

Her eyes grew wide as she tore herself from his grip. "Who's side are you on, Adrian? Aren't you going to protect your daughter? You can't let him take her from me. I won't let him have her!" She turned her back to him, the rhythmic shaking of her shoulders revealing the tears she shed.

"Natalie, sweetheart." He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "He's not going to take her."

She turned, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Then, you're going to refuse it?"

"I didn't say that, but that doesn't mean …"

"I don't believe you!" Her voice was shrill now. "You're taking his side. Are you just going to stand back and let him take our daughter?"

"No." His voice was firm. "No one is going to take Sophia."

"Daddy!" Sophia cried as she ran down the stairs. "Who taking me? I don' wanna go."

Turning toward her, Adrian lifted her into his arms. He buried his face into her hair as he pulled her to himself. "No one is taking you, baby girl. I've got you … You're not going anywhere."

Natalie wiped away another tear as she watched them. Adrian held out his arm to pull her into their embrace. She took a step but stopped when Timothy began to cry. Her eyes lifted to the stairs. "I … I need to go get him."

Adrian took Sophia back to his chair and read the book she had dropped on the floor when he sent her upstairs. After reading several more from the living room bookcase, she fell asleep in his arms. If it had been any other day, he would have taken her up to her bed to sleep. But, not today. Today, he couldn't let her go. He closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to absorb every bit of her, the scent of her shampoo lingering on her hair, the weight of her against his chest, the sound of her breathing … she had become part of him. She had been—from the moment they found her at her mother's crime scene. Natalie was right. He was her father, and it wasn't just the court who said so.

But, if her biological father was alive, did he have a right to know? How involved should he be in her life? So many questions to answer, but at the moment, Adrian didn't have the strength to even consider them. He was trying to be strong for the sake of his family, but he only felt weak and powerless. Along with the questions, a fear, an old one, whispered in his ear—would she leave him as so many others in his past had done? Had he poured out his heart, once again, only to have it broken? If he let that thought gain a foothold, it would nip at his heart and entangle his mind to the point of near-paralysis.

Adrian glanced at the stairwell as if mentally willing his wife to appear. He needed her. He needed her strength even though she was also struggling to find it. She had stayed upstairs with Timothy, he supposed. He understood the comfort the baby would bring. He was theirs by law and by blood, born of their love. No one could ever claim him or take him from them.

After a time, Adrian knew he needed to check on Natalie. She was angry—he couldn't blame her. The world-rocking news had cut through them like a sharp knife, leaving them hurt and vulnerable. But, if they were to survive this, they would need to be united. He moved Sophia to the couch and covered her with the throw. He bent and kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. He then willed his leaden limbs to carry him up the stairs. Natalie wasn't in the nursery, so he went to their bedroom. He found her there, lying on the bed, curled around their son. She had cried herself to sleep, but Timothy remained awake. He held a teething ring to his mouth as he took in the room around him. Adrian covered Natalie with a blanket while Timothy kicked his legs and cooed. Adrian picked him up and took him downstairs so Natalie could rest undisturbed.

While Natalie and Sophia slept, Adrian fixed a light supper, Timothy in the highchair beside him. He looked at his son and smiled. He was an easily contented baby, happy to watch the people around him, and at the moment, he watched his father's every move. Adrian talked to him and described what he was doing, thankful for the cherub face looking back at him. Before long, Sophia awoke and began to play. Natalie came downstairs and joined her, putting in a video to watch. They ate with only the most necessary of words spoken between the couple, choosing instead to listen to Sophia's happy chatter.

When she was done eating, Natalie gathered her dishes and took them to the sink. There, she washed them, put them in the dishwasher, and began on the pots used to cook the meal. Seeing it, Adrian helped Sophia down from her booster and gathered their dishes.

He crossed to the sink. "Let me do that, sweetheart. Why don't you rest or take a refreshing shower before we leave for Julie's play."

She moved in front of him to place a glass in the dishwasher. "I'm not going."

"Not going? What do you mean?" He tried to take the plate she picked up, but she pushed him away.

"I'm not going to the play. You go ahead if you want to, but I just want to stay home." Her voice was thick with the emotion she tried to contain.

"But this is opening night. Julie is expecting us. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"

"I know. We … we'll just go another night. Julie will understand."

"What about Randy and Sharona? They're expecting us too. Even Leland and T.K. are expecting to watch the kids for us."

She slammed her hands against the sink and leaned into it. "I can't, Adrian. I just can't."

He stepped closer. "Natalie."

She balled up the dishtowel in her hands and turned. "I can't go with a mask on my face and just pretend everything is okay. If I don't pretend, they're going to ask what's wrong, and I don't want to talk about it."

He pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, but he wouldn't let go. After a moment, she leaned into him and let loose the tears she had been holding onto. He leaned his head against hers and caressed her back. "We're going to get through this, Natalie. I don't know what's going to happen, but we'll figure it out."

She pulled back and looked up at him. "Then, you're going to fight for us?"

"You're my life, Natalie, you and the kids." He cupped her tear-stained cheek. "To give up now would be giving up on my own life."

"But, what if he is her biological father and he decides he wants custody? What do we do then?"

He placed a finger to her lips. "No what-ifs. We're going to take this one step at a time, and we're going to face it together."

"How are you so strong? Why aren't you falling apart?"

"I can't, Natalie." He pulled her tighter. "You need me. Sophia needs me."

"Don't let him take her, Adrian. Don't let him …" The rest of her words were muffled as she buried her face in his chest."

"I won't," he whispered into her hair. "I promise."

Once Natalie had taken the children and gone upstairs, Adrian collapsed into the nearest chair. He breathed in deep and exhaled. "Why are you so strong?" she had asked. At the moment, he felt anything but strong. He looked at the dishes left in the kitchen and the clock on the wall. He needed to finish, then also get ready, but he would have preferred to crawl in bed and pull the covers over his head. Who was he kidding? He held on to the table and rose, steadying himself. As he looked from the table into the living room, something caught his eye.

On the coffee table, sat the Bible Molly loaned him before Timothy was born. Gazing at it, one of the verses Molly marked came to mind. Joshua 1:9—"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Was it true? Could he believe it? He had cried out to God when Natalie was sick, and he couldn't deny the answer, but a lot of other people—people who were believers—had also been praying. Would God hear him, he who had spent most of his life running from faith? He had gone to church with his grandparents when he was a young boy, but that was a very long time ago. He felt so weak now like he had when he sat by Natalie's hospital bed. He thought for a moment, then sat back down. He bowed his head. What did he have to lose? "I need help, God. Molly tells me you hear our prayers, and you sure seem to have heard a lot of mine lately. Well, I'm here again. I'm asking you to help us keep our baby girl. You didn't put her in our lives for a couple of years just to take her away? Did you? Please, God. Let us keep her. Help me keep my promise to my wife."