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?"