short-sleeved polo shirt with his favorite khakis.
“I didn’t see you there.” Charlie Bradford carried his shoes in one hand, as though afraid the click of his heels on the hardwood would wake up the household. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
Chase held up his mug. “I’m trying Mom’s remedy.”
“Ah, warm milk,” his father said.
Chase brought the mug to his lips, blew on the liquid and took a sip. The thick, chalky taste filled his mouth, and he made a face. “Ugh. As terrible as ever.”
His father chuckled softly. “I never could stand the stuff. Always thought it was better to talk about what’s keeping you up.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Asked the man drinking warm milk in the middle of summer,” his father quipped.
Chase set the mug down on the kitchen counter. “It’s Toby.”
“Is he all right?” his father asked sharply.
“He’s fine,” Chase assured him, “but I’ve been thinking about that message Mandy left on my cell phone.”
Chase had received the voice mail a few days after he discovered her “miscarriage” was a convenient way to explain away a pregnancy that had never been, not that he’d shared that embarrassing tidbit with his father or anyone else.
He’d met Mandy Smith at the tail end of a year he’d been in Harrisburg attending training school to become a Pennsylvania Game Commission employee. After his March graduation, he’d been assigned a territory that included Indigo Springs. Weeks later, she’d phoned to tell him their single night together had resulted in pregnancy.
What else could he do but invite her to live with him? Had the pregnancy progressed, he would have asked her to marry him. It would have been the right thing to do. Instead he’d been played for a fool.
In the voice mail Mandy had rambled on about leaving Toby, but explained that she wasn’t cut out to be a mother.
“I don’t think she’s coming back for him,” Chase said.
“That could be,” his father said. “That girl wasn’t much of a mother.”
His father should know. During the two months Mandy had lived with them in Indigo Springs, his dad had spent more time with Toby than Mandy had.
Chase drew in a breath, then put into words the conclusion he’d reached while lying in bed. “I need to contact the Department of Public Welfare.”
“No! That’s a terrible idea,” his father cried. “Where’s this coming from? Did something happen tonight?”
“Yes and no,” Chase said. “It’s just that the librarian who set up my speech asked a lot of questions.”
His father put a hand to his head and groaned, then sank into a chair beside Chase. “I forgot about your speech.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“You don’t usually need me on your day off, but I still should have remembered.” He grimaced. “You had to take Toby with you, didn’t you?”
“I tried some of the neighbors but nobody could watch him,” Chase said.
“How was he?”
“Noisy. The librarian took him outside for me, then she quizzed me about Mandy. Turns out Mandy used to come into the library to read magazines.”
“I’m sorry,” his father said, but still didn’t offer an explanation for where he’d been. Odd. His father had to know Chase wanted him to get out of the house and go somewhere besides the river with his fishing pole.
“Where were you anyway?” Chase asked finally.
“Nowhere special.” His father added hurriedly, “Why would some librarian asking questions about Toby make you think you have to go to DPW?”
Chase opted not to repeat the question he’d asked his strangely secretive father. “Because she’s not the only one. Mandy’s been gone for almost three weeks. Sooner or later, someone will figure out we don’t have legal custody.”
“We won’t have legal custody if you go to DPW, either,” his father pointed out. “The agency would.”
“Yeah,” Chase said, “but it’s the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do,” his father muttered, running a hand over his lower face. “You’re just like your mother. She was always going on about right and wrong, as though it was easy to see the difference.”
“It is easy,” Chase said.
“Not true. What if DPW takes Toby away from us? Think about it, Chase. You work long, unpredictable hours, and I’m sixty-seven years old. Toby’s a normal, healthy baby. Do you know how many couples out there are looking to adopt a baby like him?”
“Toby’s not up for adoption, Dad. I’m thinking we could ask to be his foster parents. He’s lived with us for two months. It wouldn’t make sense to move him.”
His father’s head shook vehemently. “It’s too much of a risk. There’s no way you can know for sure that DPW wouldn’t take Toby away from us.”
That possibility was what had driven Chase to the kitchen in search of the warm milk he couldn’t drink. If Louise Wiesneski were a social worker instead of a librarian, Chase doubted she’d let Toby continue to live with him and his father. She clearly didn’t think much of his parenting ability.
“I know you want to do the right thing, but look at it this way,” his father continued. “The right thing for Toby is to stay with us.”
“We can’t just keep him indefinitely, Dad,” Chase said. “Sooner or later, I need to go to the authorities.”
“Then make it later. Three weeks is too soon to be sure she isn’t coming back.”
“It’s getting there.”
“Okay, then let’s say she isn’t coming back. Mandy told you she didn’t have any family, right? That means she left Toby for you to raise. So find her and get her to give you custody.”
After his father went to sleep, Chase sat at the kitchen table, his hands cradling the now-cooled milk, trying to figure out what to do.
Find her, his father had advised.
The directive wasn’t nearly as easy as it should have been. He’d made a couple of stabs at it already, but he had no credit-card information to trace or phone numbers to track down. He’d checked his phone bills and Mandy hadn’t made any long-distance calls while she was living with him. He’d even taken a short trip to Harrisburg, but the employees of the bar where they’d met claimed not to know her. The clerk at the hotel where she’d rented a room said she’d paid in cash.
Looking back on it, Mandy had been closemouthed
