“I’m not sure who that can be,” he said, walking into the living room and opening the door. “Can I help you?”
“Chance Drummond?”
“That’s me,” he said.
It was a woman’s voice so she popped her head out. An older lady. One holding a wiggling toddler.
“Here’s your kid. He’s yours now. I’m done with this shit.”
“Whoa,” he said, his hands up. “Not so fast. I don’t know who the hell you are.”
“I’m Baylee Bradley’s mother. This is her kid. She leaves him with me all the time to take off doing God only knows what. This time she got her ass in jail and won’t be getting out soon. I’m done.”
“You can’t just drop a kid off and leave,” he said. “I don’t have any kids.”
Jocelyn came into the room. The little boy was squirming and getting worked up. “I know it’s your kid. Baylee told me about you around the time she got pregnant. A fireman she met out one night. You’ve got an old black sports car.”
“Hi. What’s your name?” Jocelyn asked. “Please, come in, and we can talk about this. Surely you don’t want to just drop your grandson off with a stranger and leave.”
This couldn’t be happening. Chance always seemed calm in any situation, but his feet were cemented in place and his mind not functioning with his mouth.
“Nettie Bradley,” the woman said, moving in. “Listen, I’m sorry to be doing this, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m sixty-five years old and have had enough. I can’t raise a two-year-old. Baylee doesn’t do much with him and never has.”
“Please stop talking like that in front of him,” she said gently, taking the child. Even if he couldn’t understand, she didn’t want the words said. “What’s his name?”
“Maverick,” Nettie said. “Call him whatever you want. He looks like you. Baylee is blonde hair, blue-eyed.”
The toddler was on the ground now and looking around. A little lost, a little afraid. She didn’t blame him.
But she looked at Chance and the boy, and there were a lot of similarities.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that Chance paled just now when he heard the name.
“You think he’s yours, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t take a stranger’s word for it. Why the hell wouldn’t Baylee come back and tell me? She knew where I lived. You found me.”
“I found you because now that her butt is behind bars, I told her I’m putting the baby in foster care. She said who the father was. I’m giving you a shot to take him or that’s where he’s ending up.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll get a DNA test immediately.”
“Can you keep Maverick for a few more days?” Jocelyn asked. “Chance can get a DNA test expedited. But I’m sure you don’t want to leave him here if Chance isn’t the father, right? Wouldn’t it be better to know? Then maybe everyone can sit down and get things squared away properly.”
“Do you know how expensive it is to have a kid?” Nettie asked. “Diapers. Clothing. Food. Shit that Baylee doesn’t help with and I can’t keep a job. I’m not surprised she ended up in jail, but I just can’t do this again. I’m sick. I’ve got MS and it’s getting worse. The stress of this isn’t helping me any.”
Chance took a deep breath. “I’ll give you money. One week. Less than that. I don’t know where to go or what to do for the test, but I’m sure I can get it done quickly. If he’s mine, I’ll come get him and everything of his immediately. I promise. Hang on.” He just left the room.
“Are you hungry, little man?” she asked. Maverick ran back to his grandmother, but she wouldn’t pick him up.
There was part of her that wanted to say keep the kid here. That he’d be better off, but maybe it wouldn’t be wise until they had all the facts.
Maverick opened his mouth and let out a wail and lifted his arms. “I can’t pick you up,” Nettie said. “You need to wait.”
Jocelyn lifted the kid into her arms. “Hey,” she said. “I’ve got you.” She was rocking him some as she walked out of the living room.
Chance returned. “Here is five hundred dollars,” he said. “It’s the only cash I’ve got here. I can get more. But get him what he needs or for your trouble. Give me your number. Tomorrow I’ll get right on this. I’ll need a DNA sample anyway.”
“You’re not going to skip town?”
