"You're getting ahead of yourself. Back up." Doug held a hand out as Amy tried to speak over him, breathless and babbling in her excitement. "Okay, so Jessie talked to him. I got that part. But tell me what led up to that."

Amy shifted impatiently in her armchair. Across the living room, on the sofa, Doug was sprawled out with a bottle of beer in his hand and the newspaper, crumpled up and forgotten, at his side. "She asked for Mrs. Marshall first, and the man who answered the phone told her that she passed away about a year ago. And so she asked if she was speaking with Mrs. Marshall's husband, Robert, and he said, 'No, actually, this is her son, David Marshall.' My father, Dougie! Jess talked to my father!"

Doug nodded, a calm counterbalance to Amy's bubbling enthusiasm. "When did you decide to make this phone call?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, did you even have enough time to think it through?"

"Dougie, it's been sixteen years," Amy said quietly. "That's long enough."

"Yeah, but by the same token, what would one more day have hurt?"

Amy frowned. "You're sounding like Dad now. I thought you wanted me to do this."

He laughed shortly. "I don't think I ever said I wanted you to do this. I said that I support you in your decision. I didn't realize you were going to do it so hastily, without talking to me or Jack first."

"You're kidding, right? You wanted me to talk to Dad about this? Have you been around the two of us lately? He's not even talking to me. I'm sure a heartfelt discussion about my pending search for my biological father would have gone over wonderfully."

"Amy, don't get sarcastic," he said. "I just wish you had given it a little more time, that's all I'm saying."

"But Dougie, for all he knows, he spoke to an old friend of his mom's on the phone today. He has no reason to believe his estranged daughter was on the other end of the line. So what have I done, really? Besides get confirmation about where he is, and that he's alive?"

He forced a smile. "You're right, Aim," he said. "I know. I'm just … I'm thinking about your dad, and how he's going to take this news."

"Who says we have to tell him?" Doug opened his mouth to respond, when another voice startled both of them.

"Tell me what?"

Amy and Doug looked up at the doorway to the foyer, where Jack was standing, eyeing them suspiciously.

"What are you guys not going to tell me?" he repeated. The lack of curiosity in his tone made it evident that he had a pretty good idea of the subject matter at hand, if not the specifics.

Doug glanced at Amy quickly, trying to communicate an "I'll handle this" expression, but Amy spoke first, her tone casual and matter-of-fact, her eyes never leaving Jack's face.

"Jessie called my father's parents earlier today to see if she could get a number for him, or some information we could use to find him. He answered the phone."

Doug closed his eyes in a slight wince, wishing like hell that Amy had let him smooth this over first. Jack's eyes looked blank as he stared at his daughter, but Doug could sense raw emotion roiling just under the surface.

"I see," he said coolly. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, Jess hung up after that. But now at least I know how to get in touch with him."

Jack nodded. "That's great. Beautiful. Give the son of a bitch my best when you do."

Amy's eyes widened in shock as Jack turned to go back upstairs.

"Hey!" Doug shouted at his partner's retreating back. Jack froze in his tracks and turned slowly to look at him.

"What?" he said coldly.

"I think you're going too far now," Doug said.

"Well I'm sorry you think so."

"Daddy, please!" Amy said. "Don't be like this. You're making this so much harder."

He met her pleading gaze, and there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He seemed to be trying to settle on the right words to say, but after a few moments, he turned and walked back up the stairs. Presently, they heard the bedroom door slam shut.

Amy buried her face in her hands, feeling as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She heard Doug shove his newspaper away and get up from the couch. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry, baby," he said. "I'm sorry he's hurting you. He doesn't want to do that."

She looked up at him and shook her head. "I think you're wrong there, Dougie," she said. "I think that's exactly what he's trying to do."

Doug took a deep breath, kissed Amy on the forehead, and stood up. "We'll continue our conversation later, okay?" he asked. "I've got some business to attend to first." Amy nodded and watched him leave the room, heading upstairs after Jack.

He had never looked at her like that before, with such coldness. It was like a slap in the face. Was his love conditional after all? As long as she was his daughter and Doug's daughter and theirs alone, as long as she never developed any kind of simple curiosity about the other side of her identity that was a mystery to her, the side of herself that was alive through more than just the well-meaning words and stories of family members.

Give the son of a bitch my best when you do.

Amy took a deep breath. Suddenly she was overcome by a crazy notion, but one with a magnetic power that was undeniable. She went back to her bedroom to retrieve the letter.

"Listen to me, Jack. You can be an asshole to me all you want, but you better stop it with Amy. Do you know what you're doing to her? Do you care? Because just now, it seemed like you didn't give a damn. That girl is sixteen years old, she worships the ground you walk on, and you are breaking her heart. And for what? Because you're not secure enough in the way you've raised her to tolerate her finding someone who actually shares some DNA with her? Are you that weak?"

Jack turned from the window to look at Doug. "Are you done?" he asked.

"I don't know. Are you ashamed of the way you've been acting?"

"Look, you can handle this any way you want. As for me, I think—no, I know—it's a terrible idea and it's going to end in disaster, and I don't have to stand by and be a willing party to my daughter's heartbreak."

"You're pushing her away. You're making it easier for her to find something in him to fill a void that you're leaving in her life right now. Is that what you want?"

"No! God, no, of course not. But he's not going to fill any voids for her, Doug. He's going to tear her apart the same way he did with Jen. And you know what? I'm pissed off at her for putting Amy in this position. Can you believe that? I'm pissed at her! Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be mad at a dead person?"

His voice cracked with emotion, and Doug reached for him and pulled him roughly into an embrace. "Just don't turn your anger at Jen against Amy," Doug said into his ear. "That might be the biggest mistake you'll ever make."

Amy sat with the letter before her and the phone in her hand. She simultaneously wished that her friends were still here and was relieved that they weren't. She had sent them away after the earlier phone call, telling them that she needed some time alone to process everything, thanking them for their support, and promising to call them all later. She knew they were worried. She knew Andy, at least, would discourage her from what she was about to do. She knew that Ben would be logically concerned but that he would stand by her no matter what.

With his face set in her mind, she pressed the "Talk" button on the phone and began to dial a New York number from a crumpled sheet of paper that lay on the bed before her. She didn't think about the magnitude of what she was doing, she didn't have an emergency Plan B, she didn't even know what her opener would be. And she certainly didn't stop to think about the implications of doing this out of bitterness, out of a childish desire to get back at her dad for making her feel like she was betraying him.

She cleared her throat and waited as the phone rang miles away. And when it was picked up on the third ring, when a deep, clear male voice said "Hello," there was no time to reconsider. Amy spoke before she thought.

"David Marshall?"

"Yes, this is he."

"I'm Amy Lindley. I'm your daughter."