I was finally able to sit in my office, distraction free, to work on some lyrics that had been bouncing around in my head.  Vanessa had taken the boys out for the afternoon, knowing I was in writer's mode.  If I didn't get time to write every once in a while, I went crazy.  I momentarily glanced out my Washington Heights window to see my view of the Hudson River. I loved living in this town.  My phone started ringing, snapping out of my daydreaming.  It was an unknown number, but for whatever reason I decided to answer.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Is this Lin-Manuel Miranda?" A female voice asked.  I assumed it was a reporter and was prepared to hang up.

"Yes," I replied.  "How can I help you?"

"I'm Leslie Daniels.  I'm with New York Children's Services.  I'm in my office, staring at a birth certificate of a young lady who's currently in our care.  Are you friends with a Laura Thomas?"

I thought for a moment, racking my brain for why that name sounded familiar.  Then it occurred to me – I had a month-long fling with a woman named Laura probably a decade and a half ago.

"Umm...a long time ago.  Why?"

"She has a daughter," she explained.  "And your name is on the birth certificate as the father."

I sat up in my chair.  "Excuse me?"

"You're listed as this girl's father.  Nora Thomas.  She's currently in the care of the juvenile detention center because her mother was arrested.  She has no other family."

I was floored.  I was on someone's birth certificate?  How could I not know this?  My mind drifted back to 2004, when I was in my mid-20's and carefree.  In those days, I didn't have a steady girlfriend.  I bounced around a lot from girl to girl in those days.  More than I'd like to admit.

"Umm..okay...are you sure?" I asked.

"There aren't any other Lin-Manuel Mirandas in the area," she explained.  "But we'll need to take a DNA test to be sure."

"So, hold on-" I stopped her.  "How old is she?"

"She's thirteen," she explained.  "She's lived in Queens her whole life."

I was speechless.  I had another kid?

"So, could you come down to the juvenile detention center?" She asked, like she was asking me to go pick up some milk.

"Uh, yeah," I said, standing up.  "I'll be right there."

I hung up the phone and just stood there for a moment, incredibly confused.  This was not at all how I imagined my afternoon going.  As I pulled on some shoes, I kept trying to think about Laura.  Things hadn't ended badly between us.  It just seemed we'd gotten our fill of each other and we'd moved on.  I didn't understand why she wouldn't have told me she was pregnant with my child.

I plugged in the address for juvie in his phone and Google Maps led me there.  I walked into the building and asked to see Leslie Daniels.  She saw me immediately, inviting me back into her office.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Miranda," she said gesturing to the seat in front of her desk.  "Please sit down."

I sat, unsure of what to say or do.  She pulled out the birth certificate and showed me.  Sure enough, my name was in the box where it said 'father'.  Leslie also pulled out a file, with a picture paperclipped to the top.  My daughter.

I carefully extracted the photo, taking a closer look at it.  She had my dark features, with long, dark curly hair.  She didn't smile. She had my eyes.

"I...I don't know what to say," I admitted, setting the picture down.  "This is all a big shock to me."

Leslie took the papers back and eyed him.  "You've never been contacted for child support?"

"Never," I told her.

"Listen," she leaned forward, putting her arms on the desk.  "I don't want to get Nora's hopes up if this isn't going to pan out.  She doesn't have any other family to speak of.  There are two scenarios here.  You can take her, or she'll be put in the foster care system."

"Foster care?" I asked.  "How long is her mother going to be in prison?"

"We aren't able to say," she said.  "Her trial is set for two months from now.  She's looking at several major charges."

I breathed out.  "I need to talk to my wife," I told her.  "We've got two boys at home.  This is...huge."

"Absolutely," she told me, nodding.  "This is a big decision."

She opened up a drawer and pulled out a plastic bag.  "If you don't mind, I'll take a DNA sample from you so we can get that rolling."

I readily agreed.  She swabbed the inside of my cheek and then sealed it up in the plastic bag.  She pulled out her business card and handed it to me.  "Talk with your wife and get back to me as soon as you can.  I'll call you with the DNA results when they come in."

"Okay, thanks," I told her, a bit bewildered.  This was all happening so fast.  I went home and wasn't able to concentrate on anything.  All my ideas, my words, had disappeared.  All I could think about was Nora.  If this was really my kid, what kind of life has she been leading?  She's been only miles away in Queens.  She must think I abandoned her.

The door opened, and Sebastian came running in, followed by Vanessa holding Francisco.  He ran into my arms and I gladly enveloped him in a big hug.  "How was the park, buddy?"

"Good!" He said.  "I took Batman down the slide but he didn't fly."

"That's too bad," I said, picking him up and carrying him into the kitchen.  Vanessa was getting a snack ready for him.

"Sebastian, do you want Cheerios or Goldfish?"

"Goldfish, pwease," he requested, and I set him down on the floor.  Vanessa handed him his little bowl and he scurried off to the living room to eat.

"How'd your writing go?" Vanessa asked as she unbuckled Francisco from the stroller.

"Not good," I admitted to her, not sure how I was going to broach this subject.

"Really?" She asked as she picked up our youngest.  "You were practically spitting out lyrics this morning."

"I got a call," I said, rubbing the back of my head.

"Oh?" She asked, shifting Francisco to her other hip.  "What about?"

"Um, you might want to sit down." 

She stopped and eyed me suspiciously.  "Lin, what is it?"

I took her hand and led her over to the couch.  "Um, I'm not really sure how to say this," I began, holding her hand.  "I got a call from social services, and apparently I have another kid."

"What?" She asked, completely caught off guard.  "How?"

"She's thirteen," I explained.  "I had a relationship with her mother back in '04, I think.  Her mother got arrested and she doesn't have any other family.  My name's on her birth certificate."

"You can't be serious," she said.

I let out a small sigh and looked into her eyes.

"Wow," she let go of my hand and stood up.  "You have a daughter?"

"Apparently so," I said, letting my hands meet as they came to rest on my chin.

"But, wouldn't she have contacted you for child support?" She reasoned, ever the lawyer.

"You would think, but no," I said.  "I haven't heard from her since 2004."

Vanessa was pacing the floor.  "So...so what are our options?"

"Well, since she doesn't have any other family, she either comes with us or she'd go into foster care.  At her age, I have a feeling she'd have a hard time getting adopted."

Vanessa nodded, running her fingers over her lips in thought.  "Lin, we can't let her go into foster care.  I mean, if she really is your daughter..." she trailed off.

"They took a DNA test from me today," I explained.  "They'll call me back with results as soon as they know."

"Have you met her?"

I shook my head.

"They showed me her picture," I said.  "She looks like me."

Vanessa smiled and came to sit next to me, taking my hands in hers.  "If she really is yours, then we are absolutely taking her in," she told me, looking in my eyes.  "It'll be a challenge, but we can do it."

I grinned, glad she was agreeing.  It wasn't every day a man got told he had a daughter he never knew about.  I loved my sons with all my heart, and if Nora was mine, then I would love her just the same.

"I'll call the social worker," I told her.

"Okay," she whispered.

I spoke with Leslie for a good fifteen minutes.  She'd gotten a DNA sample from Nora and had put a rush on getting the results.  I hated to think of Nora locked away in juvenile detention while everything was figured out.  And why was she in juvie anyway?  Shouldn't she have been in foster care?

"Mr. Miranda, this is wonderful news," Leslie said to me.  "Once we get the DNA tests back, we can start with the paperwork and you can meet Nora."

"Great," I said, excited.

"One more thing, Mr. Miranda," she stopped me.  "There's some things you should know about Nora."

I furrowed my eyebrows.  "What is it?"

"Well, she's troubled," she said.  "She's had a hard life.  She's been to juvie several times, and was, in fact, kicked out of the foster home she was assigned to last night for fighting."

My heart broke, thinking of what Nora must have gone through.  Back in my mid-20's I'd been care free.  I remembered Laura as fun loving and sometimes a bit irresponsible.  We'd just had a fling though; it's not like I knew everything about her life.  Apparently she wasn't getting an A in the parenting department.

"Well, whatever issues she has, we'll work through them," I told Leslie.  "Maybe she's just never been given a fair chance."

"I'm glad to hear that," Leslie said.  "The DNA test should be back tomorrow.  Good night."

I pressed the end button on my cell phone and breathed out, looking over at my wife, who was chopping vegetables for dinner.  Whatever the next few days, weeks and months brought, I knew I had a trooper on my side.