"With a moo-moo here," Gray sang, Magda joining in with off-key harmony for animal sounds. "Moo-moo there"
Lori rounded the corner and paused unseen in the doorway. The scene before her was so beautiful it hurt her eyes almost as much as her heart.
Magda perched on the edge of the counter clutching the cow cookie jar in her lap. Her clothes didn't match, clashing stripes and polka-dots from differing outfits, but she was clean, a red bandanna tied around her head. Gray wore the blue one this time.
Dropping pieces of bread into the toaster, he simultaneously serenaded into a wooden spoon. "Here a moo, there a moo…"
He afforded Magda equal "microphone" time as he sang. She kept the beat, her tiny heels drumming against the cabinets.
Gray danced his way around the kitchen as he cooked oatmeal and set the table. Jogging shorts displayed his muscular legs flexing with each weaving step.
He might as well slide her right into that toaster along with the next round of bread, because at the moment she was toast. He had her attention, completely, just as he'd done a year ago when he'd smiled at her that very first time.
Even more so.
Lori stepped into the kitchen. "Well, Doc, is this a duet or can anyone join in?"
The impromptu concert stopped. Gray set aside his spoon, his expression unreadable.
Magda squealed and held out her arms. "Yori!"
Lori scooped Magda off the counter and hitched the little girl onto her hip. Magda snuggled closer with total ease and trust. A child's unconditional love certainly was a powerful thing. Lori rested her cheek on Magda's bandanna, Gray's bandanna, the mix of the two of them doing odd things to Lori's heart. She stared at Gray across the kitchen. "Thank you. I seem to be saying that to you a lot lately."
"You okay now?" He shuffled from foot to foot.
A flutter of unease stirred in her chest. She knew that caged look in his eyes, the rhythm of those restless feet, too well. "Can't handle the heat of a morning-after kitchen, huh, big guy?"
Gray's feet stilled. His gaze collided with hers, linking them as firmly as that single moment he'd slid into her body. He'd set her up with the perfect morning-after breakfast, and now he was bowing out instead of joining them. She forced herself not to look away.
He turned first, spooned oatmeal into two bowls, dropped slices of toast on the plates and transferred the butter from the counter to the table. "I wish I could stay longer, but I've got rounds at the hospital."
His excuse was valid. Why then couldn't she shake the disappointment because he wouldn't be spending the rest of the day with them? Or shake the sense that he didn't want to. "Sorry. Of course you have to go. We've exhausted our house-call quota."
"Yeah, well, duty calls." His feet picked up their itchy pace again.
Magda on her hip, Lori followed Gray into the living room where he hooked his gym bag over his shoulder and charged for the door. On her porch he paused. "I've been thinking."
So had she, thoughts of waking up in his arms, of feeling his hands on her, of his being inside her.
Of never having him there again.
Could she actually be considering giving them another chance? There was also Magda to consider. Lori could so easily see herself serving as a foster parent beyond the one-month evidentiary hearing.
Maybe if she and Gray talked this time, rather than just jumping into bed whenever they didn't agree, they might solve something. Or at least keep from getting hurt again no matter how it turned out. She was wiser now. She would walk in with her eyes wide open, unlike her fairy-tale ideas of a year ago. "Thinking about what?"
"Magda should spend some time with other kids."
What a wake-up call. She'd been selfishly dreaming of time with him, and he'd been nobly considering Magda. "I'm looking into play groups once she's better."
His feet shuffled their restless dance. "Can you get off early Friday?">"Of course, sweetie. Gotta run. Tell Lori we'll pick her up at four on Friday."
"Mom, I'll let you know," he repeated, not that she seemed to be listening. The dial tone hummed in his ear, so he disconnected. Somehow his world had taken an out of control nosedive, and he wasn't quite sure what to do to level it back out.
He would worry about his folks and Lori later. First, he had a recovering kid to watch. At least with Magda be knew where he stood. No surprises there.
She hummed and moved the papa doll. The Magda doll flew higher in the swing, and Magda laughed again—only to stop short.
With a swift sweep of her hand, she knocked the swing sideways. Her words dwindled to odd noises. Swishing sound effects with her mouth. Crashing noises.