Page 51 of Playing With Fire

“Mr. Standish, thanks, yes.” Ricky took a breath. “Yes, I do realize that. However, as the biological father of the child...”

Standish cut in. “We cannot tell you anything. That includes verifying whether or not...Ms. Caitens is or was a client. I can tell you that many women advise us that they do not know who the father of their child is, and we are bound to accept them at their word.”

Ricky bristled at the what-else-can-you-expect tone of voice.

The guy was only doing his job, he reminded himself. He eased onto the bench, avoiding ancient chewing gum and sticky spots, and stretched out his legs. The park smelled dank, acrid, as though a cadre of dog walkers had chosen this private spot to let Buster do his business.

Ricky studied the soles of his boots dourly. Only a month or so in Temple Mountain, and his expensive New York boots were already rippled by damp.

Focus.

Ricky closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of a tiny playground and a weary young woman pushing a toddler in the swing and jingling a baby in a front sling.

“Understand,” he said crisply. “My question is, if my former partner put my biological child up for adoption without informing me, and if the adoption agency accepted, falsely and without proof, that the father was unknown, is the adoption agency liable?”

The bark of laughter from the other end was the sound of a lid slamming shut.

“Mr. Sharp, please. As they say, this is not our first rodeo. And we regard any attempt to threaten or harass us most seriously. Most seriously indeed...my only advice...and this is of course general and not specific to you...is to discuss this with your former partner. So thank you for your inquiry...”

Ricky sat up quickly. “I can’t. She’s dead,” he blurted. There was a brief silence.

The lawyer sighed. “I’m sorry for your loss then. But—”

“I know,” said Ricky urgently. “I get it. People give up a child and someone else adopts it, and both parties are entitled to privacy. But is there a way to prove that a child is mine? DNA?”

“But you don’t know where the child is. And what would you do, anyway? Drag a two-year-old through the courts to take her away from the only mom and dad she has ever known?”

Lyle Standish was trying to be kind. Ricky felt the dull pain in his temples that presaged a headache.

“Ricky...to be frank, in our experience most children given up for adoption have far, far better lives than they would have had staying with their birth mothers—and it is mostly mothers who give up their children. And we do make sure that those mothers have a lot of support to make that choice—or not. Unfortunately, the court sometimes needs to intervene and to make that choice in the best interests of the child. It’s not like the bad old days, I promise you. We see young, vulnerable, drug-dependent women, sometimes victims of abuse...or just not ready to be a parent. We see it all here Ricky.”

There was a pause.

“What about other family members?”

Standish cleared his throat.

“Of course, grandparents can seek temporary and permanent custody of children who are their blood relatives, if the parents are unable to nurture in the best interests of the child.” Silence. “You can probably assume that that did not happen in this case.”

Ricky closed his eyes. He made one last stab. “But Creating Families does do open adoptions, where biological parents can keep track of, even share the lives of their...offspring.”

More silence. “That is true. But you know what? Most people, and I’m talking about the biological parents here, sign that option away. However, since adoption law was changed in New York State in 2019, individuals who were adopted can get their birth certificate when they turn 18. But that doesn’t help you. Not right now. I’m sorry.”

Ricky pulled himself together. He hadn’t expected anything, not really. He thanked Lyle Standish, who seemed pleased to be shown some gratitude, and hung up.

Ricky stared at the playground. The young mother had gone. Late afternoon shadows threw the simple play equipment into a landscape of dark caverns and giant towers.

The light faded, and still he sat. And it was only when he roused himself to go home that understanding flashed through Ricky.

And what would you do, anyway? Drag a two-year-old through the courts to take her away from the only mom and dad she has ever known?

Standish had not left him empty-handed. He had confirmed several things. That Ricky’s child was now two years old, and that a heterosexual couple had adopted her.

There was one more possible avenue for information. One that Ricky had already considered and rejected.

Chrissie’s parents.

Because if they did not know (and Ricky was as sure as he could be that the Caitens had no idea about their granddaughter) ...then he was about to add to their already unbearable grief.

---