Man, he was in trouble.
No time to choke now, pal. He charged inside.
As if dodging land mines, Gray sidestepped the pile of packages littering the entryway. "Where do you want me to put this?"
>However, looking at the two of them together, he couldn't regret his decision. Magda needed her. Lori braced a gentle hand on the child's back, soothing Magda until she could control her breathing. They were right together.
He strolled to the bed. "Hi, Magpie."
Her smile vanished. Magda's bottom lip shot out with a speed and reach his nieces and nephews would have applauded. Her mutinous glare left him with no doubt about her thoughts.
She was mad as spit. At him. Only him. Women had long memories, and he was definitely persona non grata for little Magpie.
Gray warmed the stethoscope on his palm so she could see it and understand. "I need to check your breathing."
Magda eyed the stethoscope and scooted closer to Lori.
Lori clasped Magda's little fingers. "It's okay."
Magda sat rigidly while he slid the stethoscope on her back between the part in her polka-dot hospital gown, then around front. Her breath sounds rattled in his ears. Not a good sign, but perhaps minimally better than the day before.
"How is she?"
Gray draped his stethoscope around his neck and waggled his hand. "A little improved. Why don't you give her the present while I look over her chart?"
"Shouldn't you give—" Magda's scowl in Gray's direction stopped Lori. Her hand fluttered to rest on his arm. "I'm sorry."
"Don't sweat it," he said, trying like hell to ignore Lori's touch. "As long as she gets the toy, it doesn't matter who gives it to her."
Lori's eyes narrowed. "Damn, you're good."
A wry chuckle slipped free. "Well, hon, you haven't said that to me in quite a while."
"And then you're so bad."
Gray backed up a step. "Take care of our little friend while I review her records."
He dropped into a chair by the window, propping his boot on one knee to rest his leg. He opened the chart in his lap and flipped through pages. Lori's Southern drawl poured over him as she talked to Magda, accompanying words with gestures.
Lori mimed a cup brought to her mouth as she asked Magda if she wanted a drink. The girl nodded enthusiastically, and Lori poured her a glass of ice water.
Other word plays and gestures followed until Gray realized Lori was actually communicating with Magda through a basic, but formalized sign language. Interesting. A part of her training, perhaps? What else didn't he know about this fascinating woman?
Lori lowered the rail and perched on the edge of the bed, passing Magda the bag from the store. Gray stopped turning pages.
Magda eyed the sack warily. Her hand crept toward it, then paused. She looked from Gray to Lori with such distrust he wanted to go back to Sentavo, kick some serious butt and take a long list of names.
Her tiny hand pinched the edge of the bag and lifted. She peeked inside—and smiled.
Gray felt as if he'd found a cure for the common cold. Magda yanked the Barbie out of the bag and struggled to rip open the box. Lori's head dipped as she helped Magda.
Lori's face shone with a natural beauty that stole the air from his lungs. Complete contentment radiated from her in waves he couldn't help but envy.
Gray watched the two of them and knew he'd been right in suggesting Lori become Magda's guardian. With their two dark heads so close, anyone could have mistaken them for mother and daughter. This was it. What he had to do to right the way they'd left things a year ago.
Finally he could offer her what she wanted. Through Magda, Lori would find that sense of home she seemed to need, the child she wanted. His last two weeks in Charleston could be spent helping Lori settle in with her new child.
Then he could walk away.