Dominick's Secret Baby

  Dominick's Secret Baby

  by Iris Parker

  Copyright 2018 Iris Parker

  All rights reserved

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  author.iris.parker@gmail.com

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  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, dialogue, and events in this book are entirely from the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Nothing should be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  The cover art for this book makes use of licensed stock photography. All photography is for illustrative purposes only. All persons depicted are models. Neither the models nor the photographer have endorsed this work.

  Prologue

  Ali

  Ali did her best to ignore the ice-rink below, to project a calmness she certainly didn't feel. She hoped that the guard couldn't hear the pounding in her chest, or notice the way that her mouth was suddenly as dry as a desert. She couldn't afford to mess this opportunity up, not when she'd spent so long waiting for it.

  Months.

  No, years.

  No, longer than even that. After all, she'd been waiting for this day for as far back as she could remember. The details had changed a little as she grew up, but she'd never lost sight of her dream.

  It was finally time, and she couldn't afford to wait any longer. Today was her last chance before summer vacation started, and soon Ali's mom would hardly let her out of sight. For one last time, though, she'd left her alone for the day, safely ensconced with all her favorite books inside a cozy blanket fort.

  Her mother had given Ali all the usual warnings and recommendations. Lunch was in the fridge, keep the phone close by, never open the door for strangers. Remembering that last rule filled Ali with pangs of guilt, even if technically she hadn't opened the door for a stranger.

  She'd opened it for herself, with a stranger parked in the driveway. The technicality had given Ali courage to ignore her guilt, getting into the taxi she'd called with the remainder of her savings. This had been a long time coming, after all, and bending one little rule wasn't going to stop her.

  Of course now, two hours later, she'd broken enough rules that she imagined she had to qualify for the Guinness Book of World Records—or at least she would have, if they had a section on misbehaving preteens. It had all culminated in Ali lying her way inside the Ristuccia Memorial Arena, telling security that she was there to visit her father.

  Of course, that part had been true. She'd just lied about his name.

  "John Fletcher, sir. He's a cook," she'd said, the carefully rehearsed words allowing her to keep calm and polite despite the butterflies in her stomach.

  From running experiments her mom had helped her set up, to understanding what each part did in one of her grandpa's inventions, Ali knew that research was important for doing any job right. Needless to say, with this job being the most important one of her life, she'd spent more time researching it than anyone her age should've been capable of.

  She'd found Mr. Fletcher with a search engine, and friending him on Facebook had confirmed that the man had kids about Ali's age. She'd done everything she could, and now it was up to luck. Was Mr. Fletcher actually working today? No matter how hard she'd tried, Ali couldn't find that out online.

  So the guard had radioed ahead, and the following pause had made Ali's heart feel like it was going to explode. When a voice finally crackled back with let her in, she barely stopped herself from jumping in the air and shouting a cheer.

  Most kids aren't that happy to see their dads, after all.

  Most kids.

  The guard escorted Ali through a maze of corridors and doors, passing by the arena and pointing her to the security office where she could find someone to take her the rest of the way.

  Ali nodded patiently as the guard left, but she had no intention of entering the office. Once she was finally alone, she stared straight into the ice-rink below, scanning the players carefully. In the distance, they all looked like muscled giants. Each one was gliding over the ice so quickly that, even after getting closer, she couldn't make out any details.

  Her heart sank. She'd come so far, and now with the seconds ticking away, she didn't actually know who to approach. Time was precious, and all she could do was continue forward before getting caught or too scared to move.

  One foot in front of the other.

  She moved towards the rink slowly at first, picking up speed when she realized the players were finishing up. This was it, the last step in her plan. It would be the hardest, and the only one she hadn't rehearsed.

  Because really, how do you say something like that to a stranger?

  And just how the heck was he going to react?

  Chapter One

  Dominick

  "Hey there! Stop! Stop right this instant!" someone shouted, and I immediately recognized the voice as one of the security guards.

  That wasn't something you ever wanted to hear.

  After all, the times when we could safely assume that intruders were just fans in search of an autograph were long gone. Who knew what to expect anymore, these days? The whole world could turn upside down in a matter of seconds, and if you weren't careful you could end up on the news for all the wrong reasons. Cautiously, I turned around to face the commotion.

  I thought I was prepared for anything, but I certainly hadn't been ready for this.

  A young girl, thirteen at most, was rushing straight in our direction. Her face was full of confidence and determination, betrayed only by the hint of fear in her eyes. The guard had given up on shouting warnings, and was now quickly gaining on her as she sprinted towards the rink.

  Behind me, most of my teammates lost interest. Even if she wasn't the typical obsessed fan, the girl ultimately seemed harmless. My friend Alton called for me to hurry up and join the others as they filed into the locker room, but I stayed exactly where I was. I wanted to see how all of this played out—after all, it wasn't every day that a young kid managed to get the better of security.

  Giving a few seconds of my time and an autograph seemed like the least I could do.

  Besides, something about her made me curious. Really curious. The feeling grew stronger with each passing second, and I was unable to look away as the girl came closer. I could hear Alton's voice once again, but his words simply didn't register.

  Who the heck was this little girl, and why did she look like this was a matter of life and death? She'd made it as far as the edge of the rink, hesitating as she scanned through the few players left on the ice. She shook her head and frowned, her expression shifting from determined to panicked.

  At least until she noticed me standing apart from the rest of the group.

  In that moment, her entire demeanor changed. There was a flash of a smile, so brief that I would've missed it had I not been staring at her. The guard had almost caught up to her, at least until she calmly stepped out onto the ice as if it were preordained.

  Her composed demeanor lasted about two seconds, then her legs started to shake. She was dressed for a hot summer day, and the sandals she was wearing couldn't have been less appropriate for walking on ice if they'd tried. With wobbly knees, she made it a few more steps before the fear returned to her face. Lurching forward, she grasped at the empty air in front of her in a futile attempt to steady herself.

  I didn't think, I just reacted.

  Skating forward as quickly as I could, I caught up to her just before she lost her balance. When she started to fall, my arms were there to scoop her up, saving her fro
m taking a nasty spill on the ice in light summer clothes.

  "Hey now!" I said, putting her down and righting her as I spoke. "Be careful, you wouldn't want—"

  And that's when I first noticed.

  Heterochromia.

  It was really hard to miss—plain as day, right there in her wide and tearful eyes. One deep green iris, the other a striking crystal blue.

  Just like mine.

  Neither the girl nor I said anything, and a few moments later the security guard finally caught up. Huffing and puffing, he admonished her for the stunt and demanded that she come with him immediately. The girl winced as he grabbed her firmly by the wrist, and I had to fight back an irrational urge to shove the man away from her.

  He's just doing his job, and his job is to keep everyone safe, I reminded myself.

  "I…give us a minute," I finally managed to say, after I'd recovered enough from my shock that I remembered how to speak.

  "You know her?" the guard asked.

  I didn't know what to say to that. Yes? Kind of? No, but I wanted to speak with her privately anyway? Every answer seemed wrong. Eventually I just shook my head, repeating myself.

  "Just give us a few minutes, okay?"

  The guard nodded, letting go of her wrist and crossing his arms impatiently. She glanced up at him and seemed to freeze, hugging herself and shivering from the cold.

  "Alone," I clarified.

  The guard sighed heavily and walked off, muttering something about players and their egos. I ignored him, looking back down at the girl who seemed even paler than she had a few moments ago.

  Again, I had no idea what to say.

  "Let's…get you off the ice, okay?" I offered, trying to focus on the practical.

  She nodded, taking my hand for support as the two of us slowly left the rink.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  She opened her mouth but didn't say anything.

  "Can I help you with anything?" I asked, crouching down so I didn't dwarf her quite so much. I was easily a couple of feet taller than her, and the bulky gear must've been intimidating for a kid her size.

  Of course, getting face-to-face with her just made it that much harder to ignore her eyes. They were shinier and even more colorful than mine, but the similarity was undeniable. I saw those eyes every day when I looked in the mirror, but never before had I seen another person with them.

  "Y—yeah," the girl replied, but didn't elaborate further.

  "You, uh—you want an autograph or something?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Years of dealing with the public had taught me how to handle fans, but nothing could've prepared me for this situation.

  "No, thank you," she said politely.

  "So…," I said awkwardly, feeling every bit as lost as she looked. My heart started pounding in my chest and suddenly, I felt strangely lightheaded.

  "Uh—well—that is to say that—" she stammered, wringing her small hands.

  "Yeah?" I asked, smiling and doing my best to look reassuring despite the utter confusion I felt.

  "The thing is, I wanted to talk to you," she said, sounding even more tense than she had when the guard was after her.

  I nodded, my chest feeling tighter. Rivers of blood seemed to be rushing to my head, making me feel dizzy and unsteady.

  It couldn't be that—

  But before the thoughts fully formed in my head, she opened her mouth. The anxiety on her face was clear, and her next few words turned my whole world upside down in a matter of seconds.

  It's just that…you're my father.

  Helena

  "Ali? I'm back!" I shouted, kicking off my shoes with a happy sigh. I was getting home late from work, but that was a regular occurrence ever since the college had promoted me to full professor last year. We'd lucked out, and all the science faculty got along well. It was nice, but it meant our meetings had a tendency to devolve into friendly chitchat after business was finished. Today, I'd actually been able to relax and stick around for the whole thing despite my dad being unavailable to babysit. After all, at eleven years old, Ali had proven that she was old enough to take care of herself now, and she did have a phone in case of emergency.

  I closed the front door behind me with a smile of relief and stretched like a contented kitten. Summer break had officially begun, and it was already shaping up to be a great one. The sun had been out for the past few days, keeping our spirits high and happy.

  "Ali?" I called again, heading to her bedroom. We'd built a blanket fort together the past Sunday, and most likely she'd be sleeping with her teddies—Bronco and Billy—along with her favorite books. Young adult, manga, graphic novels, the whole nine yards. In some ways Ali was the typical preteen, but in other ways she couldn't have been further from it.

  No doubt she was tired today from going to bed so late last night. I probably shouldn't have allowed it, but she'd been so excited about finishing a secret project that it had been hard to say no. She was the only kid I knew who was just as happy reading scientific journals as she was watching TV, and at times her work ethic surpassed even mine.

  Pushing the door open slowly, I confirmed that the fort was still in place.

  "Ali? What do you want to eat tonight?" I asked, poking my head inside the covered blankets. "I was thinking we could go out and—"

  She wasn't there.

  An uncomfortable feeling crept into me as I went to check the rest of the house. Ali might've been small, but her presence took up a lot of space.

  And it was a presence I couldn't feel anywhere.

  The unease grew with each empty room, until by the time I hit the broom closet I was close to panicking. "Ali?" I yelled, trying to keep my voice calmer than I felt. I tried again, louder and louder, but each call remained unanswered.

  Grasping at straws, I ran towards our derelict and overgrown back yard. Ali was even less fond of the outdoors than I was, and I knew before stepping out the door that I wouldn't find her there.

  Somehow it still felt like a surprise when I didn't see her.

  My lips began to tremble as I realized that I didn't know where else to go. With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and stared blankly at the screen. My dad was busy running errands today, and that left only one last place Ali could safely be. Mrs. Lauer had promised to keep an eye out from across the street, and maybe the kindly old woman had invited Ali over for a snack.

  It was worth a try.

  The phone rang twice before Mrs. Lauer picked up. I didn't wait for a hello.

  "Is Ali with you?" I asked immediately, fighting a losing battle to stay calm.

  Mrs. Lauer's answer was lost on me, my frazzled mind only picking up on the words haven't seen her today. I slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe.

  My little girl was missing.

  Dominick

  I had a kid. A little girl.

  The news came as a shock, and at the same time it wasn't. On some level I must've known the truth since the moment I'd laid eyes on her, but knowing and accepting could be very different things. The papers in my hand confirmed everything the girl had told me, everything that looking at her had told me, but I continued to read and reread the pages.

  Papers.

  She had actually brought papers.

  And presented them to me long before I even thought to ask.

  Clearly, she had put a lot of thought into this.

  Sitting on the bleachers, the girl remained silent. Her heart-shaped face had more color in it now than before, and her expression was full of hope and excitement.

  What did my face convey? Shock? Surprise? Had my eyes glazed over in confusion, infected by the same fog that seemed to be clouding up my thoughts? Or were they like hers, wide and full of excitement?

  I guessed they had to be.

  If nothing else, terror was definitely a kind of excitement.

  Looking down at one of the papers again, I confirmed its contents for about the twentieth time. My name was printed at the top in big bold let
ters, Dominick Henderson, alongside my date of birth and my old address. My signature was there, too, a reminder that I'd agreed—sort of—to this.

  How could I be surprised, really? What had I thought was going to happen when I donated the sperm?

  Well, for starters, that they'd keep the confidentiality clause….

  "How did you get all this?" I asked the girl, tilting the folder in her direction.

  "Private investigator, sir," she explained, her cheeks turning red and her eyes suddenly focusing on her feet.

  It was a good answer, just not a helpful one. How had the PI gotten the papers? Was this even legal? What—

  I sighed, recognizing that it didn't really matter. No amount of answers would change the reality that I was the father of the young girl who was standing in front of me.

  Biologically speaking, at least. Practically speaking, that was a whole different matter. She already had one family, a father and mother who cared about her. Ones who—

  Actually….

  "Where is your dad?" I asked.

  The girl shot me a confused look.

  "You—"

  "The one who raised you, I mean. And your mom? Why aren't your parents here?"

  "My mom is at work," the girl answered carefully. After a short pause, she continued. "And my grandfather is out of town."

  That told me a whole lot, but not nearly enough.

  "They let you come here alone?"

  "No," the girl said, her eyes darting between her fingers and her shoes. "Mom's probably going to ground me until I'm older than she is."

  Well, if I hadn't been in trouble already, I certainly was now. I needed to find the kid's mother, fast, before this got really out of hand. The last thing any of us needed was for this to get blown out of proportion, a mother's panicked call to the police resulting in tomorrow's tabloids reading Deadbeat Hockey Dad Kidnaps Daughter.