"Maybe." Caution made her ask, "Why?"
"There's a crew party after Friday's flight. Other kids, children of crew members, will be there."
He wanted her there with the other families? One look into his eyes told her how important this was to him, and her knees went weak. Surely only because she hadn't eaten anything other than crackers and toast in more than twenty-four hours.
"All right" The words fell free before she could stop them, but she didn't call them back.
"Great." His gaze ping-ponged around the porch, before settling on her again. "My mother and father can pick you and Magda up."
His parents? Casually Lori grabbed the railing because the house seemed to have tilted even farther to the left, leaving her decidedly off balance. "Your parents?"
"You won't have to deal with the hassle of getting on base."
"Gray, I'm confused—"
"Guess I didn't make it clear. We're all meeting on the flight line first, then heading over to Lance's for the party."
"Oh, okay." She hadn't really meant confused about the plans so much as just what he was trying to accomplish. Her stomach was a mess all over again, and it had nothing to do with the stomach flu.
Gray dropped a kiss on Magda's bandanna-covered head, then cupped Lori's face in a farewell caress. For a minute she thought he might kiss her, too, and she couldn't find the will to move closer or away.
Instead Gray broke the moment with a nod. "Thanks, Lori. Finit flights mean a lot to us flyers."
"Finit flight?"
"Final flight. That's what we call a guy's last flight before he leaves a base. Everyone gathers on the runway for a farewell party. A fire truck hoses down the guy after he lands. It's all a part of Air Force tradition."
"Leaves? Who's leaving?" She hoped it wasn't Bronco or Tag. She knew how much working with them meant to Gray.
He scrubbed a hand across his blue bandanna. Was it her imagination, or did the fearless warrior look worried?
"Me. Lori, I transfer out of Charleston to Washington in another week and a half."
Gray stared straight into Lori's wide eyes and waited for the inevitable disillusionment. Which he got. In spades.
What he hadn't expected was her flat-out surprise.
He'd thought she knew. He'd talked about their need to say goodbye. He'd made it clear they had no future. Hadn't he?
Quit lying to yourself pal.
Whether consciously or subconsciously, he'd been vague. Likely because he'd known he would get just this reaction. His transfer ended it for her. After hearing about her gypsy childhood, he knew talk of cross-country moves would send her underground.
Which was what he wanted. Right? So why hadn't he told her up-front? Damn, but he hated questions. He needed answers and action. He needed to leave.
Then why couldn't he make his feet move?
The silence between them stretched, broken only by an occasional passing car, the trickle of water from the garden fountain, the call of mockingbirds.
He'd done it again. Hurt her. In spite of all his great plans, he'd brought disillusionment right back into those brown eyes.
"Doc?" Magda's hoarse voice croaked.
Her voice jolted through Gray's confusion. His gaze jerked to Magda. "What, Magpie?"
She peeked at him from the security of Lori's neck and smiled. "Moo-moo, Doc. Moo-moo … cow?"
Something else entirely different jolted through Gray this time, an emotion so strong it jabbed right at his chest. "That's right, Magda. The word is cow. You're a smart kid."
Lori wasn't the only one who could be hurt by his choices. It would have been easier for Magda if he'd let her go right on hating him. Like Lori probably did now.
Somehow, in the span of a week, he'd twisted his life right up with these two. Their matching brown eyes would haunt him all the way to Washington. Not in the least certain what he would say, he still had to try. "Lori, I'm sorry, hon, I thought—"
A car horn drowned out the rest of his sentence. Gray twisted to look over his shoulder and found…
His parents.
Their Chevy Cavalier slid in behind his Explorer. His conversation with his mother came crashing back around him, his unwitting revelation of too many details about how he'd spent his weekend. He shouldn't be surprised by her visit, only that it had taken her twenty-four hours to drop in.
What surprised him most was that she'd managed to convince his father to come along. Gray braced his shoulders. God, he didn't need to deal with his father today.
His mother tucked a hand in her husband's arm and waved up to the trio on the balcony porch. "Hi, sugar! Lovely morning, isn't it?"
Of course she would have to catch him leaving Lori's house—in the morning. His mother had whipped out that maternal radar again. It must be some kind of holdover from his teenage years. He didn't even waste time wondering how she'd tracked Lori's new address.
Gray pulled a pained smile. "Morning, Mom. Dad."
His mother waved for him to come down. "I've got some things in the car. Your father could use help unloading."
He shot Lori an apologetic look, her face now a blank slate. He heard her footsteps behind him as she followed him down the stairs. Of course she wouldn't make a scene in front of his mother.
And neither would he. He had to make the best of it for everyone. His mother was a mama on a mission.
Gray thought of Magda behind him. More likely, his mom was a grandma on a mission. She intended to meet the little imp and would no doubt have Magda charmed in minutes.
Then he would be out of Lori's life again, Magda losing her new "grandma." How could the kid be expected to understand why all the grown-ups in her life suddenly faded away? He sure as hell hadn't understood about his own father—a man who'd never fully returned home.
Gray shoved aside thoughts of his own childhood and focused on the present. Time to head his parents off at the pass. Gray didn't intend to let Magda or Lori suffer any more losses in their lives.
Lori trailed Gray, resisting the urge to punt his too-damned-cute behind all the way down the steps.
Damn Grayson Clark for ruining her day. And damn him again for whisking her right back into his emotional revolving door.
One minute he plied her with more TLC than even her own mother had ever provided. The next, he broke land speed records running for the door.
Then he unrolled the family dinner invitation. Followed by the equivalent of "Been nice reminiscing. Catch you later, hon. I'm headed for Washington."
She wasn't sure she wanted any part of his little farewell gathering. She'd said enough goodbyes to the man to last her a lifetime. If she weakened and went with him to the party, would she weaken further and follow him right to Washington? Even if by some crazy fluke they worked things out, how many more farewells would a life on the move include?
On a day that had already taken a swan dive into the pits, she now had to dodge his matchmaking mama and pretend she didn't want exactly the same thing Angela did.
The closer Lori drew to the Clarks, the tighter Magda's arms locked, reminding Lori she had greater concerns than her own. Snuggling the tiny girl closer, Lori pressed her cheek against Magda's. "Sweetie, it's okay." Lori pointed to the couple stepping from the car. "Doc's mama and papa. Do you understand? That's Doc's mama and papa."
Magda's brow furrowed, but her hold relaxed ever so slightly. Lori slowed to wait in the courtyard. Shading her eyes with her hand, she watched Gray and his father unload a casserole dish, a Tupperware container, and a small cardboard box from the car.
Side by side, there was no mistaking the father-son resemblance. A broader, weather-worn version of his son, Dave Clark was still a striking older man, his full head of salt-and-pepper hair closely trimmed. The resemblance to Gray was there, but superficial only. The similar features didn't look the same without the smile.
Of course, Gray wasn't smiling, either. The two men didn't exchange a single word. No father-son thumps on the back. No quips or discussion of Sunday ball scores. They just quietly unloaded the trunk.
Echoes of Gray's confidences whispered through her mind, of Gray telling her about his father's three years spent in a POW camp. The few times she'd visited with Gray's parents last summer, she'd only seen Dave Clark as a reserved, somewhat brusque man. Now she wondered if he might have once looked more like Gray than she'd originally thought.
Angela swiped the travel wrinkles from her mint-green dress. Men following her, she called out to Lori, "Hello! What a gorgeous morning. Hope you don't mind that we stopped by unannounced. We couldn't help indulging in a drive after early-morning services."
"Hi, Angela. Dave. Of course you're welcome—"
"Mom, this is all nice." Gray plowed right over her words with uncharacteristic rudeness, dishes cradled in his hands. "But I need to head into work, and Magda's been sick. Lori, too. They both need quiet and rest."
"Oh, now that's too bad, son. Good thing they had you to take care of them. We didn't plan to stay long, anyway. I just had to get a peek at this little one." Angela tugged her silent husband and his cardboard box toward Lori. "Grayson told me on the phone yesterday that you stepped in to take Magda when her foster parents backed out. Since we grandmas always have extra toys on hand, I thought you could use a few to tide you over."
"How thoughtful. Thank you, Angela, really. Both of you." Lori smiled at Dave Clark and tried not to think about how Gray might look just like his father in twenty years. Except she wouldn't he around to see the change.
"Afternoon, Lori." Always a man a few words, Dave nodded and hung a step behind his wife.
"It's good to see you again. Thanks for driving all the way over." Lori traced a bare toe along the dusty stone path. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it. How did one talk to the parents of an ex-lover? "Would you like to come inside for lemonade?"
"No, thank you, dear. We really won't stay but a minute." Angela dipped a hand inside the Tupperware container and pulled out a cookie for Magda. "What a cutie pie you are, sweetie."
Magda clung tighter to Lori's neck. Lori's hand dropped protectively to cup Magda's head. "I'm sorry, but she's had so much change. And she doesn't speak English yet."
"Of course she's shy." Angela placed the cookie on top of the container, strategically within Magda's reach. "Not a thing in the world wrong with that. I vow Mary Ann didn't let go of my leg until she was five. We'll have plenty of time to get acquainted come Friday."
"Mom, about Friday—"
"Angela, I'm not so sure we'll be—"
"Dave, honey. Set the box on the bench over there." Grayson's mother stepped away as if neither of them had even spoken. Magda squirmed to get down, eyeing that cookie, stomach flu obviously long gone.
Angela waggled her hand toward the duo of wrought-iron benches by the fountain. With a nod, her husband lumbered over and set the box on a bench, taking his place beside it. He relaxed back in the seat, eyes trained on the trickling fountain.
Gray stepped forward. "Mom—"
"Son, why don't you run those dishes upstairs before that chicken pie spoils in this heat?"
He hesitated as if searching for some way to dodge the inevitable. Finally he pulled another pained smile. "Sure, Mom. I'll he right back down so I can walk you to the car."
After Gray climbed the steps and disappeared into her apartment, Lori turned to the older woman and tried again. "This is so thoughtful, but I don't want you to misunderstand the—"
"Shush, now!" Angela waved for silence, her eyes carrying a hint of melancholy. "Just hush up and let a mama dream. All right, dear? I know this is very likely not going to play out the way I want. But maybe you can indulge a meddlesome, worried mother for just a minute longer." Angela paused for a breath, then smiled. Her hand drifted up to her mouth. "Oh, Lori, look."