Chapter 8 - The Letters That Never Reached Him|
Three days after Fiona woke, Elena arrived at Mercy General carrying a worn brown envelope.
It had been stored inside a cardboard box in her basement since Fiona moved apartments in Detroit.
The envelope contained photographs, old receipts, and copies of three letters addressed to Dominic Russo.
Fiona had asked her sister to bring them.
Dominic was waiting in the family consultation room when Elena entered.
He stood as she approached.
"Fiona said you should see these."
Elena placed the envelope on the table.
Dominic opened it carefully.
The first letter was dated five years earlier, just seven weeks after Fiona left Chicago.
Her handwriting slanted slightly to the right, with the same elaborate capital letters she used when labeling recipe cards.
He recognized it immediately.
He began reading.
Fiona had written that she didn't understand what had happened between them.
She said she wasn't asking him to come back.
She wasn't asking for money or another explanation of why she had been unsuitable for his life.
She wanted him to know she was pregnant.
Dominic read that sentence three times.
In the next paragraph, Fiona explained that she had scheduled her first prenatal appointment.
She admitted she was frightened.
She told him she would raise the baby whether or not he wanted to be involved.
But she also said something that made Dominic press his hand against his mouth.
She had loved him too deeply to keep him from knowing he was going to become a father.
The second letter had been written several months later.
Fiona described hearing the baby's heartbeat and choosing a small yellow blanket for the nursery.
She included a sonogram photograph, carefully labeled with the appointment date.
Dominic held the photograph between his fingers.
The image was grainy and difficult to interpret.
Yet he couldn't stop staring at it.
That tiny shape was June.
His daughter before she had taken her first breath.
A child he had unknowingly abandoned before she was born.
The third letter was shorter.
It had been written after June spent several days in a neonatal unit following her premature birth.
Fiona described the terrifying experience of watching nurses monitor their daughter.
She wrote about the first time June wrapped her tiny fingers around her mother's thumb.
She explained that the baby was finally home and doing well.
At the bottom, Fiona had included one final line.
She hoped Dominic would someday want to know the little girl who had inherited his eyes.
Dominic lowered the letter.
Elena watched him silently.
"I never received these," he said.
"I believe you."
He looked up sharply.
"Why?"
"Because Fiona showed me the delivery records yesterday."
Elena removed another sheet from the envelope.
The first two letters had been sent to Dominic's corporate headquarters.
The third was sent by certified mail.
The delivery confirmation showed that someone had accepted it on Dominic's behalf.
The signature belonged to Graham Pike.
Dominic stared at the document.
For a moment, he felt an old and familiar rage rising inside him.
He imagined Graham reading those letters, learning about June, and deliberately keeping everything secret.
Then he remembered his promise.
He took out his phone and called Detective Cole.
"I have evidence you need to see," he said.
"It concerns Graham Pike and Fiona Ellis."
After arranging to provide copies of the records, he returned his attention to Elena.
"Why didn't she try again?" he asked quietly.
Elena looked at him for a long moment.
"She did try."
"She called your office twice after June was born."
"The person who answered said you were unavailable and didn't wish to discuss personal matters."
Dominic lowered his head.
"Eventually, she stopped."
"I don't blame her."
Elena sat across from him.
"Do you know what she did on June's first birthday?"
He shook his head.
"She bought two cupcakes from a grocery store."
"One for herself and one for the baby."
"June was too young to eat much of hers, so Fiona sat on the kitchen floor and finished it while crying."
Dominic's eyes filled.
"She worked double shifts that year," Elena continued.
"She was trying to save enough money to move into a safer neighborhood."
Dominic looked at the letters again.
"I could have helped."
"She didn't want a wealthy stranger sending checks."
"She wanted the man who used to make breakfast with her on Sunday mornings."
The room went silent.
That afternoon, Fiona was sitting upright when Dominic entered with her permission.
Her movements were still slow, and the headache behind her eyes made bright light uncomfortable.
But she seemed stronger than she had during their first conversation.
He placed the envelope beside her.
"I read them."
Fiona looked at the letters.
"All three?"
"Yes."
"Then you know."
Dominic nodded.
"I know what you tried to tell me."
She watched him carefully.
"And I know you didn't receive them," she said.
Dominic looked up.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because the man who visited me in Detroit knew details from the letters."
"He mentioned June's premature birth."
"He knew about the yellow blanket."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"Graham."
Fiona nodded.
"I thought you had told him."
"I hadn't."
"I know that now."
She looked toward the window.
"But knowing that doesn't erase the years."
"I wouldn't expect it to."
Fiona touched the edge of the envelope.
"There were nights when I hated you."
"And there were mornings when June smiled in her sleep and I wished you could see her."
Dominic pulled a chair closer but waited for her permission before sitting.
"Fiona, I don't know how to make up for what I missed."
"You can't."
He nodded.
"Then tell me what I can do now."
She turned toward him.
"Be honest."
"Don't threaten people in my name."
"Don't decide what June needs without asking me."
"And don't expect gratitude for doing what a decent father should have done from the beginning."
Dominic met her eyes.
"I can do that."
Fiona studied him.
"Promises were always easy for you."
"I know."
"Then show me."
He nodded.
Before leaving, he paused near the door.
"Is June really mine?" he asked softly.
Fiona looked at him with an expression of disbelief mixed with sadness.
"Dominic, there has never been anyone else."
He closed his eyes.
For five years, he had imagined that Fiona had found another man, built another family, and learned to love someone who deserved her.
Instead, she had carried a part of him into a life where he had refused to remain.
When he opened his eyes, Fiona was watching him.
"She's your daughter," she said.
May you like
"But being her father is something you'll have to learn."
And Dominic understood that receiving the truth was only the beginning.
