"She told me."
"But she doesn't speak English."
Gray looked away for a scant second, before he braced his shoulders into a military stance again. "She showed me while we were, uh, playing with her Barbies."
A muffled laugh sounded behind Lori, and she turned to find Bronco coughing through his grin. The crowd radiated support with smiles and nods to bolster Lori. They really had come for her as well as Gray. Securing her hold around Magda, Lori twisted back to listen to the judge.
"So while you were role playing with Barbies she … did what?"
"Acted out her parents' death. Most likely it was in a bombing air raid."
Magda squirmed, and Lori jostled, whispering, "Shhhh, settle down sweetie. Just hang on."
Magda lurched forward, straining from Lori's arms over the rail. "Doc! Doc!"
With a total lack of regard for procedure, Gray shot from the witness stand, his cap thudding to the floor. He charged forward, hands extended just as Magda pitched into his arms.
Gray's gaze collided with Lori's over Magda's head—met, held, comforted. One bottle-green eye winked, before Gray hitched Magda on his hip and turned to face the judge without returning to the stand.
>"Just because you're in that box doesn't mean you can stop loving Lori and that little girl."
Their eyes met and Gray looked, really looked, and found his father for the first time in nearly thirty years. His eyes were clear, sharp. Familiar. And too wise.
His father blinked, shifted away, scrubbing a hand along his bristly face, a five-o'clock shadow speckling even at ten in the morning. He cleared his throat, the gruff old man back in place. "A couple of sessions and I'm turning into some damn Sigmund Freud." He stood and stretched as if they'd done no more than pass a leisurely chat about ball scores. "Time for my afternoon walk. Been good talking to you, son."
His father lumbered down the steps, retracing his regular path along the water.
Gray's gaze slid away and down to his hands clasped loosely between his knees. He'd faced combat, flown countless missions in hazardous conditions without a qualm, yet his hands trembled at thoughts of commitment. Not some live-in offer or pathetic proposal no woman worth her salt would accept. But a real commitment.
Could his old man have been right? Had Gray put himself in a box? Lori couldn't reject his love if he never offered it. She couldn't turn away from him as his father had done.
His father had been one hundred percent correct.
Churning his father's words around in his mind, Gray welcomed a flash of gratitude toward his dad after so many years of bitterness. Too often Gray had only seen the tension between them from his mother's side.
Today he'd stood with his father, as parent and child, as a fellow serviceman.
Now it was time to stand with Lori. No more running.
Denying he loved Lori didn't make it any less real. And he'd let her slip away again.
Gray yanked his cell phone from his back pocket and punched in Lori's number. He wouldn't actually propose over the phone, but he could start the wheels rolling with an apology, followed by—
"Hello," a voice that definitely wasn't Lori answered.
Had he dialed the wrong number? "Hello?"
"Gray? Hi. This is Julia."
"Julia?" Damn, he felt like a parrot. "Could I speak to Lori?"
"She's not here. I'm baby-sitting Magda."
Gray stifled a useless punch of disappointment. He would see her soon. He wasn't letting her get away this time.
"Where is she?"
The phone crackled in the silence.