Part seven:
The envelope mocked him from across the hotel room. Seriously, Derek could hear it laughing in a little sarcastic voice – and pointing, too. Pointing and laughing at him for not being a man already and just opening the damn thing. The temptation of knowing what could be inside was just making him itch in the back of the brain. It could be a thousand things, a million things – an apology, a syringe full of poison, anything. All he knew was that the envelope was too heavy to just be a letter.
Mick and Wanda were sound asleep, and he couldn't sleep a damn wink. He was too used to being up and working the night shift – everything was upside down and he was too damn tired to fight the insomnia. So he got up, grabbed the envelope, and turned on his bedside lamp, trying not to disturb Mick too much.
He stared at the envelope and finally muttered, "You bastard – this is your final revenge, isn't it? Making me wonder what the fuck is in this damn thing." Grunting irritably, he popped it open and dumped the contents onto the bed.
Derek didn't know where to start. There were three smaller envelopes, one that said, "Read first," one that said, "open second", and the third which said, "third, but most important", and a check. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at the amount on the check. "Holy shit," he muttered. "I – what the hell."
Stunned, he opened the first envelope and his eyes widened even more. He read the document, then checked it for signs of forgery or tampering or – but there were none he could find. "No," he whispered. "No – not possible…" Because the birth certificate he was holding said Christina Morgan Rossi on it. She was born May 22, 2013, at 6:38 AM, had weighed 6 lbs., 4 oz., and had been 18.5 inches long. Christina Morgan Rossi – it wasn't possible. Penelope wouldn't have – no, not his Baby Girl. She wasn't capable of deceiving him like that!
His hands were shaking as he opened the second envelope. It was a letter in Rossi's barely legible handwriting. Derek sighed and got his reading glasses out of their case and settled in to read.
Morgan:
I know I'm dying, so I'm going to get straight to the point. There are a lot of things I regret in my life, but none moreso than not telling you that Christina is your daughter. She's my sweet little girl, but without you, I wouldn't have her. I owe you that much – and an apology.
Penelope and I wanted what was best for Christina, and we honestly believe that we did the right thing in raising her without knowing that I am not her biological father. She is happy, healthy, and brilliant. I wouldn't change her for the world.
If knowing that you're her father makes you want to seek out a relationship with her, know this – if you hurt her, ever, Penelope and Luca will make your life a living hell. I, on the other hand, will haunt the shit out of you if you do anything to my little girl, Derek. I'm not kidding. I will fuck you up from the great beyond and take great joy in it.
You've missed Christina's entire life, and that is my fault. Every year on her birthday, she and Penelope take a special picture together – and you deserve to have my copies of them. It's the least I can do now.
David Rossi
He opened the final envelope and pulled out a handful of photographs. The first one, marked May 22, 2013 on the back, was of Penelope – holding a tiny baby in her arms, looking exhausted and deliriously happy as she beamed at the camera.
The next one – May 22, 2014 – was of the two of them, a pouty-faced baby girl with a wild shock of flame-red hair and huge eyes in a purple party dress, a sparkly paper hat, and picking her nose while Penelope obliviously smiled for the camera.
May 22, 2015, had Christina and her little red pigtails sitting on Penelope's shoulders and grinning at the camera like a goon – all teeth and squinty eyes, while her mother laughed.
He flipped through picture after picture, pausing on May 22, 2017. Penelope looked positively gaunt in that photo – and Christina was wearing a princess costume as she fed her mother some cake. Penelope was bald… He felt a sudden rush of anger when he realized that the photo was taken in a hospital, then the anger dissipated to dismay when he realized that he'd never even known she was sick.
The photos progressed in time, Christina growing up and looking more and more like his mom the older she got – how had he not seen it? Because she looks like Penelope, his logical side whined back at him – Penelope and Momma.
2029, his heart stopped cold. Penelope was curled up on the couch in a blanket, asleep – her head covered with a scarf to hide what he assumed was her bald head. And Christina was cuddled up with her, also asleep.
2030 was just a photo of Christina holding up a sign that said, "My Mama beat cancer and is too cool to be in the picture!" She was smiling and flashing the camera a thumb's up.
The most recent photo, from just a few months before, was of Penelope and Christina posing in front of a Broadway billboard, making funny faces and doing the "Rockettes" leg kick. He had to bite back a laugh at that – even now, there was an irresistible sense of life and love radiating off of Penelope. And Christina? God, his heart was aching just looking at her and knowing that she'd been his all along and he'd never known.
He put everything back into their envelopes, then got up and changed out of his pajamas. He didn't even look at the clock – he knew it was late, but his body was screaming for a cup of coffee to perk him up. He made sure Wanda and Mick were tucked up in bed and left the hotel room.
He drove around a few minutes before he found a diner that was open. He got a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie – but the pie was too sweet to eat. Some part of him had hoped that it was a sour apple pie to match his mood, so he ended up poking at it.
He paid, leaving a hefty tip for the waitress who looked rather like a truck stop hooker who'd stopped turning tricks, and left, going into the chilly night with a frown. He drove in circles for a while, finally parking the car in front of Rossi's mansion. He looked up at the dark façade of the house and wondered what the hell he was doing there. It was obvious that he wasn't wanted or needed here. But he felt compelled to come here – to talk to Penelope, to beg for answers to the questions he couldn't even ask.
He got out of the car, walked to the door, hesitated –
If you don't do this, you'll never know the truth, he told himself. Don't you want to know why she lied to you?
Only part of him did – the part that wanted to know why she couldn't love him enough to give him a second chance. The part that never stopped loving his Baby Girl. The part that could never let go.
He pushed the doorbell button and closed his eyes. Maybe he was wrong – maybe he didn't want to know that badly.
He heard dogs barking on the other side of the door, then heard movement. "Down, Harvey!" he heard Christina say firmly. "Hey, back up that ass, Hannah – back it up." He heard the door unlock, then open. One of the dogs growled angrily, and she snapped, "Oh, shut up." She looked up and said, "Mr. Morgan – what can I do for you at this fine asscrack of… three in the morning." She sounded, and looked, less than enthusiastic about being woken up.
A shrill, excited part of him screamed, Look at her! Look at your daughter – she's amazing! She's so fucking full of life and she has no idea… none… that her parents ever kept anything from her. You could change that and she could be yours – everything you wanted from Penelope, all in this one little package known as Christina. Your daughter. Your blood. YOURS.
He cleared his throat, effectively silencing himself. "I… I needed to speak to your mother," he said. "But she wasn't in any shape to talk to me earlier –"
"It's three in the morning," Christina repeated. "What the hell makes you think she's going to be in any shape to talk to you NOW?"
Luca appeared behind her, looking grumpy and half-conscious. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Mr. Morgan was just asking to see Mama," Christina said, "and I was trying to explain to him that maybe three-fifteen in the morning isn't exactly the best time for a heart to heart chat."
Luca paused, considering Derek through bleary eyes and glasses. Then he said, "Well, it's not like Mom's actually sleeping or anything – I don't see what harm it could do to let them talk a while."
Christina pursed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. The dogs picked up on her not-so-subtle body language and started growling again. Derek held his hands up in surrender, and they backed off. She looked him up and down, then said, "Okay, fine – but you only get half an hour. Because that's when she needs her next round of meds, and she gets pissed off if people see her taking her pills. Something about pity and blah blah – I stopped listening when she started sounding like she was spouting conspiracy theories about, y'know, people stealing her pain pills to start a black market or something." She stifled a yawn and held the door open for him.
He had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Only that he needed answers.