The Christmas Hope(52)

“Who are you?” His voice was tired but defensive.

“We’re with the Department of Family Services and need to talk to you about Tracy Weist.”

He opened the door and we stepped inside to a living room. It was dark; the drapes were pulled and I doubted they’d been opened for weeks. It smelled musty from a combination of dirty laundry, empty beer cans and stale cigarettes. Roy handed him a cup of coffee and a bag of doughnuts we’d brought for him. Randall was in his underwear. He was tall and skinny; his ribs showed every time he took a deep breath. He pushed magazines to the side and asked if we wanted to sit down. A pair of jeans was draped over the arm of the sofa and he pulled them on, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Once he sat down in front of us I recognized him from the funeral.

“What about Tracy?” he asked.

“Randall,” Roy said.

“It’s Randy.”

“I’m sorry. Randy. We’ve got papers here that we found in Tracy’s things that indicate that you are Emily’s legal guardian.”

Roy handed him the papers and Randy looked through them, frowning. “I already told some lady that I couldn’t take Emily.”

I remained quiet. We had agreed on the drive here that Roy would do all the talking.

“Because of your work schedule?” Roy asked.

Randy looked at Roy and opened his arms. “Look at this place! I can’t raise a kid. I don’t want to raise a kid.” His voice was getting pinched and tight.

“It’s okay,” Roy said. “We’re not expecting you to raise her. We just want to make sure that you are indeed her legal guardian.”

Randy didn’t answer. He rubbed his head and looked at us. “Look, after Emily was born my sister called and asked if I’d take her kid in case anything happened to her and I said yes because I never expected anything to happen. I just did it because I knew that’s what Tracy wanted me to say. I signed these papers because it helped her, that’s all. I never knew anything would happen.” I didn’t say it but he’d made one of the best choices of his life the day he signed those papers. “I can’t take her,” he said again. “I can’t do it.”

“I can,” I said, leaning in. We talked for forty-five minutes and in that time Randy ate all six of the doughnuts in the bag. He was relieved to know he wasn’t legally bound to take Emily. We told him we’d call soon, and left. I walked into the hallway, leaned up against the wall, and exhaled.

“It’s not over yet,” Roy said. “Come on.” Roy flipped open his cell phone and picked up the guardianship document we’d found in the box at Hal and Greta’s. He began to call lawyers that we ran into on a consistent basis. No one was in their offices. I was getting worried. We needed a lawyer who could help us transfer legal guardianship to Mark and me. Roy called three more numbers with no luck.

I took the papers from Roy’s hand and read the letterhead. “I’m going to call this firm,” I said, handing him the papers.

“If lawyers aren’t working in the city there’s no way they’re working in smaller places like Jefferson.”

I held up my hand and dialed information. “This is for Jefferson,” I said, waiting. “Yes, I need the number for a law firm called Layton and Associates.” During the first year of Emily’s life, Tracy had lived in Jefferson. She chose a lawyer based on location. She wanted one that was close to her brother’s side of town so it would be easy for Randy to sign the papers. I was connected to the number. It began to ring. I paced the sidewalk in the front of Randy’s apartment building, trying to break ice with the heel of my shoe. I let the phone ring and ring. No one was working. I was about to hang up when it clicked.

“Layton and Associates. This is Jodie.”

“Hi,” I said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to get anyone today.”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Jodie said. She was in a hurry. “I had to get a few files pulled together before I left town for New Year’s. Normally we wouldn’t be in.” I sensed that Jodie answered the phone because she thought I was going to be someone else, like her boyfriend, and that she didn’t want to be on the phone. I hurried through the situation, skipping over important details. She was quiet.

“You’re sure that Robert Layton’s name is on that paperwork?”

“I’m looking right at it.”

“It’s just that that work isn’t something that Mr. Layton normally does, but he has taken a lot of pro bono cases over the years. This was probably one of them.” She wasn’t in a rush anymore. “You don’t need us to put together paperwork, though. A lawyer closer to you can draw up the papers.”