Ok, so like I don't know Madison's last name, so I'm totally making up one of my own. If anybody has a problem with that too bad, call it creative license. Also, I know nothing about New York City, so I'll probably be making some stuff up until I can find the time to do some research on the place.

Chapter Two

As the plane taxied down the runway, getting ready to take off, I stared out my window at the slowly setting sun. Mom would be coming home right about now and would find the letter I'd left her on the kitchen table. It hurt to leave like this, but I knew she wouldn't let me go if I asked. She didn't want me to know about my father, she didn't want me to see him. But I had to. I can't describe the need that was inside me as I sat in front of my computer staring at the picture of my father. It was an old picture, but it was him. A longing filled me then. A longing to see him for real, to let him know who I was and that I was part of him and that I wanted him to be part of me and my life.

I closed my eyes and turned away from the window. Guilt filled the pit of my stomach and I couldn't help but feel awful for the hurt I was going to cause my mother. She hadn't been anything but perfect to me and this was how I repaid her? It just wasn't right. But it had to be done. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and dug out the paper with his address on it. Already I had committed the street and number to memory, but it was comforting to just hold it in my hands and read it once more. Corner of Fifth and Broadway the paper said, Penthouse of New York Towers. A penthouse apartment, I couldn't believe it. Do you know how much those things cost. That meant my father was loaded! Not that made any difference in how much I wanted to see him, or how I wanted him to accept me, but it was awful cool.

A few hours later my plane landed in JFK and I disembarked. Immediately I was hit by the vastness of the city. It was nothing like my own small town. It was even bigger than Denver, the only real city I'd been to. People bumped me from every side and I clutched my bag tightly to keep someone from snatching it. I'd heard the rumors about tourists getting mugged in New York City, and most of that happened in the airport. Of course it was just rumors, but I was never one to take a chance.

It was difficult to navigate the maze of crowded hallways and corridors, but finally I found my way to baggage claim and pulled my two suitcases off the thingy that carries the luggage in a circle. Does anybody really know what that thing's called? Anyway, I made my way out of the airport and searched for a taxi. There were tons going down the street, but none stopped for me. Looking around me, I saw that people were running out into the street trying to hail a cab.

What an idiot, I thought, watching one man stand in the street until the cab stopped, just inches from hitting him. I shook my head and waved my hand in the air. Two cabs passed me by, stopping just a few feet away from me to pick up some important looking business people. So that was the game they wanted to play? Well two could play that.

I turned on my heel and reentered the airport, this time searching out a bathroom in which I could change from my modest jeans and T-shirt into something that would catch attention. So it was a stupid idea, but hey, it got me a cab in thirty seconds flat. Thank god for miniskirts and mid-driff baring halter-tops. And I'll tell ya what, if I had any doubts about if I was pretty or not, the whistles and catcalls were enough to disband that idea.

So I got my cab and was on my way to my father's apartment. It was weird then, still is to be honest, to call someone father. After seventeen years I was used to not having a dad, but that was all going to change as soon as I knocked on his door. It didn't hit me till then, when I was standing at the door of his apartment building, that my whole life was going to change the second I knocked on his door. I wasn't going to be Samantha Carter who had a mom. I was going to be Samantha Carter who had a mom and a dad. I could introduce myself as Ephram Brown's daughter and really truly mean it. It was so weird. But I still had to make him believe that I was his daughter, and that was going to be harder than it sounded.

And that brings us back to where my story started.

I took the elevator up to the penthouse, after doing a little flirting with the doorman to gain entrance. Trust me, that was the easy part. I was so nervous. My heart was pounding a mile a minute in my chest and I felt as if I would faint from lack of air at any second. I couldn't think straight. My mind was reeling with possibilities of how this would go. Would he accept me, turn me away, call the police and tell them he had a crazy hooker on his doorstep? I didn't know. And to be honest, I don't know if I wanted to.

The elevator stopped, and I swear so did my heart. Taking deep calming breathes, the kind they teach you in yoga class, I collected my thoughts and emotions and stepped off the elevator. There was one door in front of me. A big white one with a gold curved handle and gold edging. They spared no expense on this door I'm telling you. My hands were trembling as I raised a fist and knocked. For a second I thought he hadn't heard or that he wasn't at home, because he didn't answer the door. I knocked again. There was the sound of a piano slamming and loud cursing.

"Damn it!" he yelled, "Can't you bastards give me one moments peace?" the door swung open and there he was. I felt choked by my own emotions as I looked at him.

His face was gaunt, pale, and he had deep bags beneath his eyes. His eyes, they were so like mine that it was like looking in a mirror. Deep brown and soulful. It was what my mother said she most remembered about him. His eyes. The way they bore right into you, looking deep in your soul as if he could read what was going on inside of you. The stubborn point of his chin was like mine too, as was his full mouth and creamy, chocolate brown hair. But while mine reached down to mid-back, his was shaggy and rested jaggedly across his shoulders. He was clean-shaven, but there was a bit of stubble on his chin. He was thin, like he hadn't eaten a meal in days, and his clothes hung limply on him. It was like looking at a skeleton, the remains of the man he once was. Very depressing. But it was his hands that I noticed most. His hands were strong and slim. Surgeon's hands. Or those of a musician. I knew that they could touch the keys of a piano with the gentleness of a lover. That he could be soft and loving with the instrument, and care more about it than he did about himself. That's how it always is with people who are married to their work.

I loved those hands. Still do. And I love the man that's attached to them. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice rough, as if he hadn't used it in awhile. "I already paid your friend. I'm not lookin' to shell out another twenty grand for a cheap lay. Tell your friend it wasn't worth it and I never want to see her again." he moved to shut the door. I couldn't let him get away that easily. There was no way. Not after all I'd been through, not after betraying my mother's trust.

"I'm your daughter." I said, my voice more strong and confident than I felt. He stopped. His eyes traveled over me and I could feel the judgement in them when they met my own.

"Yeah right," he scoffed, "I don't have a daughter. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't allow her out of the house lookin' like that." He moved to shut the door once more. My mind was working in over time, and before I knew what I was doing, I'd stuck my foot in between the door and the wall.

"Please," I said my eyes pleading and my voice desperate, "Please, I know it's hard to believe, but I am your daughter. I can prove it."

"Really?" he replied sarcastically, "Ok, I'll humor you. Prove to me that you're my daughter." He leaned against the doorframe and eyed me, waiting for me to make him believe my audacious idea. His arms were crossed in front of him defensively. It was a move to intimidate me, and it was working. Swallowing my fear I forced myself to draw myself up to my full height, an impressive 5'6", and I stared him down.

"My mother is Madison Carter." I said. His eyes snapped open and he looked at me as if I were a ghost.

"That...that doesn't prove anything." he stuttered. But I could tell I planted a seed in his mind. After all, for all I looked like him, I looked like mom too. I had the same nose. Proud and dignified. And our eyes were the same shape. But it was my no nonsense personality that was most like her. My fire and spirit, as she liked to say, was all her doing.

"You could have come up with that name. It means nothing to me." He continued. I bit my lower lip, trying to gain control of that fiery spirit. Drawing in yet another calming breath, I released it slowly.

"Madison worked for your father, Dr. Andrew Brown, as a baby-sitter and house keeper while she attended college. She helped you pass your driver's test and she was the woman who took your virginity." I paused for breath. Mom had told me all this, but never told me the name of who she'd shared all these experiences with. And for once I was glad of all those little dazed looks she got, and that faraway voice, and the painful remembering when she talked to herself about her past with my father.

Ephram looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. I had told him about his past. A past which only he and my mother could have known about. His eyes were wide, frightened, and curious. So many emotions waged within his stare that for a second I thought he was going to pass out. His face drained of what color it held and his breathing became rapid. I made a mental note to teach him yoga breathing. If he accepted me that is.

"Come..." his voice was choked and strained. He cleared his throat. "Come in."


I want to thank everybody who bothered to read the first chapter of this. Y'all mean a lot. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please tell me what you thought and if you'd like me to continue.

mo: You'll just have to keep reading and see if I make Ephram the "bad guy" or not. I make no garuntees though.

auggy1984: Stay tuned and see.

kursk: Maybe, maybe not. You'll have to keep reading to see ;)

freak4wb, lightstm00, couriro, C8-H10-N4-02, OTHlover04, and No One 001: Thank you all for taking the time to read and review. It means a lot.