Angela rose with the speed and fluidity of an Olympic gymnast. "Well, let me get out of your way, then."
She pressed a quick kiss to her son's cheek and cleaned the lipstick away with her thumb. "Bring Lori to your farewell party. Your friends are always welcome."
The door closed behind Angela with a resounding click.
Gray crooked his knee forward, favoring his injured leg, and jangled his keys in his hand. He stared at the door and didn't even bother chasing his mother down. She thought it was all so simple. Pretend to be happy and it became true. His family was just like the picture he kept by his desk. Full of paper-thin smiles with nothing underneath.
He would plaster one on to get through the afternoon with Lori, and hopefully find an answer to cutting ties, cleanly this time.
She deserved substantial emotions. After a lifetime of hiding his in order to face the world with a smile, Gray wasn't sure he had much substance left.
Lori stared out the Explorer window, Gray's voice filling the car as he sang along with the radio. Country today. The man had eclectic tastes and always knew all the words.
Nerves pattered double time as she wondered what she would find when they saw Magda. Couldn't he speed up?
Sometimes she wanted to shake him until he took life seriously. Other times she found his lightheartedness a welcome relief. After his mother's visit, they could both use a breather.
Time to get her head back in tune with her professional responsibilities. Magda needed a home, and Lori wasn't about to let Gray's appeal distract her from doing her best for that little girl.
Charleston came into view as they crossed the Ashley River. Hints of muggy marshland wafted in through the vents. The whole town carried the scent of humidity and history. Time-weathered steeples rose above the skyline from St. Philip's, St. Michael's, and other churches, earning Charleston its second name, the Holy City. Gray's mother had likely already booked a wedding date for them in one of those hallowed historical landmarks.
Lori tore her gaze away. A castle-like turret jutted into view from the Citadel, Gray's military college alma mater.
Sheesh, did she have to relate everything she saw to the man belting out bar tunes beside her?
All the same, she owed him an explanation. "About the cab—"
"Forget it," he said as they passed a restaurant on stilts by the Low Country's bog, the site of their second date.
"No. I won't. It just seemed … safer to meet at the hospital."
His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "What? You can't even sit in the same car with me for a few minutes?"
"Gray?" Water lapped high along the shore. Moonlit walk. Their third date.
"Forget it."
Anger snipped her already ragged emotions. What had happened to Doctor Lighthearted? "I don't understand. It's not like we're some kind of couple. I don't have to answer to you."
"Nope. We're not, and you don't."
She couldn't resist asking, "Then why are your shorts in a knot?"
His grip slackened, and he hooked his wrist over the steering wheel. "I don't know."
Her anger deflated. She could always count on Gray's honesty. He never kept his feelings from her, and if she didn't like them, well, at least she wasn't in the dark. "You don't know?"
"Nope." He shook his head slowly. "I just know when that cab stopped in front of my door, I was so mad at you I forgot my mother was three seconds away from walking into a damned embarrassing situation."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
They passed her favorite hole-in-the-wall deli, their last date. "I hurt your feelings?"
Gray winced. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way."
"How would you put it?"
Pulling into the doctors' parking lot, he left the car running, air conditioner blasting. His face tipped to the sky, his brows meeting. Sunlight streamed over the strong planes of his lean face, his broad forehead and square jaw. Lori didn't realize she was holding her breath until her vision dotted with dizziness. Why was his answer so important?
His gaze slid to meet hers. "I understand you have to go. Just show me the courtesy of saying goodbye first this time, okay?"
Guilt pinched her breathing like a too-tight seat belt. Why hadn't she realized today echoed the past, how she'd left him, with no note, no goodbye?
How unlike her, too. She was seasoned in farewells. Why hadn't she given him something she'd perfected through countless childhood moves?
She should have known a vagabond like Gray would appreciate an appropriate goodbye as much as her gypsy parents did. People like them could turn off relationships as easily as they stamped their passports as long as farewells were exchanged.
Throat closing off, she nodded. "Okay."
After a curt nod, he reached into the back seat. His broad chest brushed her arm, and it was all she could do not to wrap her arms around him and apologize. Regardless of how their relationship had ended, no matter that she needed peace and he craved adventure, she respected this man and for the first time realized he had been hurt, too.
He twisted front with a bag in hand. "Sorry I was late today. I swung by the BX after debrief and picked this up for Magda. Maybe you should give it to her, though. She probably won't be too excited to see me after the scene on the flight line."
Lori opened the bag and peered inside.
A dark-haired Barbie peered back up at her.
Uh-oh. Now she knew why she had walked away without saying goodbye a year ago, tried again today. Resisting Gray while he wore boxers and a smile had been hard enough. Holding strong against the man who bought Barbies for babies could be a near impossible task.
After Gray picked up Magda's chart at the nurses' station, he and Lori crossed the hall to the little girl's room. He shrugged through a kink in his shoulder and shifted into doctor mode.
Urgency thrummed through him to see, treat and heal his patient. A healthy child stood a better chance of being placed. He knew that as well as Lori.
His feet slowed as an idea picked up speed in his mind like an ascending plane. Was that his role for Lori before he could cut ties and leave? Helping her advance her career?
In the past, he'd taken a hands-off approach to her job, maybe because she worked with kids. Whenever she'd shared a story about one of her tiny clients, Lori's face had glowed with a beauty and yearning that had his restless feet itching to run. Every time he had changed the subject, he knew he'd been an insensitive jerk. He'd just been so damned wary of letting her become embroiled in a scenario that would have her believing he could be a father.
Now that they were no longer a couple, he could support her in her work. Right? She'd said speedy placement of all the children would solidify her position and the validity of the southeastern branch. He could offer medical advice, contacts and encouragement until the last child was securely placed. The idea hit cruising speed and leveled off, his course set.
Lori hesitated just outside Magda's room.
"What's wrong?"
She faced the door, soft television noises wafting through. "Am I doing the right thing coming to see her? Am I being selfish?"
"How so?"
"I do my best for all the children we transport. But for some reason that little girl got to me more than the others. What if I'm just coming to see her because I want to, not because it's best for her?" Lori's words tumbled over each other in a nervousness unlike her. "What if it turns into another scene like at the base? I don't want to upset her, especially when she's sick."
"Do you want to leave?"
"No."
"What do you want?"
Lori rolled her eyes. "I want to take her home."
The rest of Gray's answer came to him. He knew precisely what to do for Lori. He could find that home for Magda and give Lori the child she wanted after all, someone she could shower with her unselfish love. He didn't question the speed of his decision. Both his jobs necessitated quick assessment of the situation, followed by a solid plan of action. Both his professions also required a hefty dose of self-confidence in those decisions. "So do it."
"Do what?"
"Take her home."
Lori with a child. The thought of her as a mother seemed so right, so natural. The notion grew in appeal with each passing breath.
A food cart rattled past in the silence.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Didn't you tell me you've been a foster parent before?"
"Short-term, Gray, just as a forty-eight-hour stop gap for children on their way to permanent foster placement. Nothing with such an awesome commitment."
Commitment. The word might make him flinch, but not Lori. She could come through for that kid with ease.
Gray tucked closer to Lori to let hospital personnel and visitors stroll past. "Then be Magda's foster mother while the system irons out the kinks with finding her a home."
"But I work—"
"And working mothers can't have kids? You know better than that. If anyone can juggle it all, you can." He could see the idea taking hold in her mind with wary acceptance. He plowed forward with his next argument before she could argue or doubt. "For now let's go inside, see Magda and play it by ear. This kid needs someone in her corner fighting for her. With any of the other children, you wouldn't hesitate to walk in that room and take on the world for her."
Lori drew her full bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully, then released it with agonizing slowness. "I have to file someone's name within the next forty-eight hours or she'll become a ward of the state. I could give them mine, shouldn't be any problem. That will hold until the evidentiary hearing thirty days from now for more permanent placement. At least it will buy her some time." Lori pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. "Oh, God, I must be crazy."
"But you're going to do it."
"Yes." Determination fired her words. "Yes. I am."
Victory sent a charge of excitement through him that left Gray wanting to celebrate. In the best of ways. His gaze gravitated to her full mouth. Lori's pupils widened, darkened, deepened. Her breath picked up a notch, sending an answering response through him.
Gray reined in his wayward hormones. The idea was to get over the woman before he left, not make things worse. "Let's go in then."
He tucked Magda's chart under his arm, tapped twice on the door and shoved it open.
Magda lay listless and half-asleep in the bed, an IV taped to her tiny hand. Tubes for nasal oxygen wrapped from her nose around her ears. A grandmotherly aid sat reading in a chair by the bed while a blue, animated dog romped across the television.
Man, the kid was a heart-tugger.
He had to be honest with himself. He wanted to see Magda, too, needed to reassure himself the little imp was healthy and safe. Their parting at the base had rattled even a hard-nose like himself.
The aid closed her book and smiled. Gray held up the chart. "You can take a break. One of us will buzz the nurses' station when we're ready to go."
The older lady nodded as she crossed to the door. "Thank you, Dr. Clark. I'll run down to the cafeteria for coffee and be right back."
Gray held the door open. "No rush."
The door swished closed. Anticipation hummed low as Gray watched Lori stop beside the bed rail. Gently she rested her fingers on Magda's arm. The child startled and turned her head.
Would Magda blame Lori for the scene on the runway, too? Who knew what whirled through her confused mind?
Her tiny bow mouth tipped into a grin. She struggled to sit up, but succumbed to rattling coughs.
Concern a degree beyond professional simmered in Gray. He whipped the stethoscope from his thigh pocket. He knew too well pneumonia was the leading cause of death among children in developing countries. Why the hell hadn't he considered that before suggesting Lori tangle her life and heart up with this kid? Doubts didn't come often to him, so the possibility of being wrong gripped him with alarming force.
