Amy POV

"No!" Callie's answer was instant. There was no doubt in her voice, which made me think that, Callie had the answer in her mind even before the lawyer asked her. It could be she had been thinking about it for days, weeks even.

Our lawyer Regina Donner, a woman in her early 30ties with long dark hair, who is helping us with the adoption process, looked stunned because of Callie's fast reply. I was taken a back by it as well, but clearly not as much as our lawyer.

"Callie, you can take some time to think about it," Ms. Donner tried to explain to Callie "I don't need your answer today. I'll be going there on Monday-"

"I don't need any more time to think about it!" Callie stated as she got up to her feet, pushing the chair backwards. She made sure the blanket that was over her shoulders to keep her warm, stayed there by holding on to it tighter "You already have my answer!" She said right before turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

Mr. Donner and I watched Callie leave, before she turned to me for some sort of reassurance that Callie and I will talk about it "I don't want her to make a rash decision. This is a big deal – seeing birth parents before signing these papers. I don't want her to regret it later."

"I will talk to Callie and let you know if she changes her mind," I assured her as I started to gather the empty cups. The three of us had sat around the kitchen table, drinking tea as we had discussed the adoption process.

"I'm going there next week, so you two have a whole weekend to think this through," Ms. Donner said as she put all the papers in her briefcase, packing up, ready to leave.

"Great. I will let you know on Monday morning if Callie has changed her mind."

I walked our lawyer out. Before following Callie upstairs, I returned to the kitchen to clean up dirty cups. Once I had put the cups in the cupboards, I made my way to the stairs. I was expecting to find Callie in her room, but instead, I found her sitting at the last step of the stairs. The side of her head and her right side was pressed against the wall, while the blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

I took a seat at the other end of the stair step and sighed, knowing I should probably probe her a bit about her father and their relationship. Callie was definitely one of those people, who need to be nudged a bit for her to open up. I was wary about it, because I didn't know how she will react. This conversation could go so many ways and there was no telling whether or not she will open up and let her walls fall down or at least shatter a bit or will she shut down and build her walls up.

The next moment, I heard Callie moving. As I turned my head to look at her, she leaned her head to my shoulder. I placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"Is there a reason you don't want to see Donald before our lawyer presents him with the papers?"

"Idontknow," Came a mumble from her. I doubt this conversation was something she wanted to have. Not giving me a clear answer could be a for her to try and avoid it. She probably wanted me to change the subject, but I was determent to not give up so quickly.

"When was the last time you saw him...talked to him?" I inquired, curious about her relationship with her father. There must be a reason she hasn't mentioned him once.

There was at least half a minute silence from her, until she replied in a small, quiet voice "The night mom died."

You don't have to be a behavior analysis or a psychologist to tell that Callie was still hurting for it was still fresh in her memory. The tragedy made a great deal of impact on the kids. I can't even imagine what's it like to lose a mother and, in a way, father as well the same day at such age. And that says a lot, because I have had my fair share of loss as well. Callie was old enough to remember everything. The good days before, but also the day it happened.

I sneaked my right hand around her back and pulled her a bit closer to my side "Did you and your dad were close before...before it happened?"

Callie was quiet for a while, giving me no signs of what she was feeling or thinking. Her eyes were focused on the steps below, but it seemed like she was looking through. They were distant. Could be she was taking a walk in the memory lane, remembering all the happy moments and missing him. Missing her mom. Missing the family, the family dinners, the movie nights, the days at park, holidays.

"I loved him and I'm pretty sure he loved me as well," Callie spoke barely above whisper, her eyes still focused on the steps below. The past tense she used - didn't slip by me, making me wonder, how long has she lived thinking her father no longer loved her. Callie detained a pause, but I got a feeling that she was about to continue, once she's ready to say it out loud.

"But it always felt like I loved him more than he loved me," Callie admitted lifting her head up from my shoulder and finally making eye contact with me. Callie's statement took me a back a little.

I studied her features for a second "I'm sure that's not true, baby."

"No, I'm pretty sure of it," As she spoke, the distant and empty look still lingered in her eyes

"Parents love their kids, even if they don't say it every day. Sometimes dads have, uh, harder time expressing their feelings..."

"It's not that he didn't say it. It's how he said it," Callie explained. She dipped her head down, avoiding my look, and changed the subject "Anyway, I don't…care about him anymore. He killed my mom. That's not something I can forgive him. He ruined my life..." she corrected afterward "...our life!"

I took a breath in, getting ready to say something, but Callie got ahead of me "Don't even try to tell me that it was an accident! It wasn't!" Her voice was no longer quiet. There was now venom in her voice and the anger she felt for him grew with every second she spoke about him "His actions got my mom and two other people dead! Why? Because he made the decision to drive intoxicated!"

Her breathing got more faster and labored, she was getting worked up as the feelings started to resurface "They could have gotten a taxi, they could have walked home, they could have gotten a hotel room, but no...he decided to drive drunk!"

"And I know my mom! She was very responsible and smart!" Callie stated with tears in her eyes "I know she told him to not drive. She always told him! She used to hide his keys so he wouldn't drive. I don't know why she didn't take his keys that night...maybe he convinced her somehow...but-" She sniffed and ran her hand over her nose "It's not my moms fault, it's my dads! He was the driver. He made the choice to drive even though he knew he shouldn't. And look where it got us!"

I rubbed her arm, trying to give her some comfort and made sure that she knows I'm listening closely to her. Callie ran her palm over her cheeks, getting rid of the tears. She took few calming breaths in before she spoke up again "When I was in the first foster home, I wrote him letters. One each week. And each week I sent him the letters...to the jail."

Her eyes met mine as she said in a very rehearsed and cold manner "Federal Correctional Institution Lompoc. Adress : 3600 Guard Rd, Lompoc, CA 93436. Inmate: Donald Jacob!" I swallowed a lump in my throat that had formed while Callie rehearsed the address effortlessly. It must have been in her head ever since. I got an image in my head, where Callie must have been excitedly running to the mail box each week to see if her dad had replied, only to be let down each week. And as the days and weeks went by, the hope of her father replying slowly crashed and burned till there was no hope left.

"45 letters and he he didn't reply to a single letter," Callie shook her head, her chin started to quiver "Not one damn letter!" she contorted her mouth to one side, averted her eyes down

"Oh, honey...I'm so sorry," I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. She leaned into me, accepting the comfort. "If you don't want to see him, you don't have to. This is your decision, honey!"

"Good," Callie sniffed back "Because I really don't want to see him."

"Then you won't!" I assured her planting a soft kiss on the side of her head

AN: This must be the shortest chapter yet and I had to force myself to write this. This certainly was not the best chapter, nor am I happy with it or proud of it myself. I was fighting myself to write this. And this have been for few weeks now. I don't know what's happening to me. Whenever I sit down and open the document to write, I lose all motivation, inspiration and desire to write. I have been struggling for a while now. The lack of updates and the character quality is evidence of that.

I can't promise I will get a chapter up for next week. But I can promise, that I will finish this story.