Chase kept his expression stoic, determined that Louise not guess she’d hit on a sore spot. “Yeah, she did.”
“Wasn’t that about three weeks ago?” Louise didn’t wait for confirmation, suggesting she’d been downwind from some serious gossip. “I heard she left town right after. Where did she go anyway?”
That was the million-dollar question.
“Nowhere in particular,” he said carefully. “She just needed to get away.”
“From her baby?” Louise arched a skeptical eyebrow. “When will she be back?”
Chase nearly told her to mind her own business, but she clearly liked to gossip. Since she was bound to give her co-workers a cry-by-cry account of tonight’s bring-a-baby-to-work fiasco, it would be best not to alienate her.
“Soon,” he said.
“I certainly hope so,” she said. “A baby needs his mother.”
In Toby’s case, Chase disagreed.
Toby uttered some gibberish, awarding Chase with one of his priceless grins.
“Thanks again for having me,” he told Louise, “but I need to get this happy little guy home so I can get him to bed on time.”
He felt like a politician on the campaign trail, putting the best possible spin on a situation after getting called for a misstep. Damage control, the politicians called it.
He headed for his Jeep before she could ask another question. He’d been facing more and more of them lately, most dealing with whether he and his father were equipped to handle a baby.
It was only a matter of time before somebody guessed that Chase didn’t have a clue where Mandy had gone.
Or whether she was ever coming back.
T HE GLOW OF THE microwave brightened the dark side of the kitchen; Chase hadn’t bothered to turn on a light. He waited for the shrill beep, then opened the microwave door, noting the time on the digital display.
Eleven fifty-six, a good three hours since he’d put Toby down for the night and at least an hour since Chase had turned out his own bedside light.
He’d switched it back on again a few minutes ago.
He removed the mug from the microwave, his eyes drifting to the whiteboard affixed to the side of the refrigerator. It was too dark to read the lines his father had scribbled in black marker but he knew them by heart.
Don’t worry. Home late.
The mystery of where his early-to-bed father had gone paled only in comparison to Mandy’s disappearing act.
Chase heard the mechanical sound of the garage door raising, signaling that he’d soon find out the answer to at least one of the puzzles.
“Hi, Dad,” he said when his father walked into the kitchen a few moments later.
His father’s body jerked, then relaxed. A tall man with a full head of gray hair, he’d nearly shattered when his wife died but lately Chase had seen signs that he was coming back to life. Not only had he gone out tonight, but he’d taken care with his appearance, wearing a new-looking 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,”