And that was it. The standard conversation he could expect with his dad. He wasn't sure anymore if it was his fault or his father's but didn't much care, other than it seemed to bother his mother.
The phone crackled with muffled sounds of his parents talking while he waited, watching Magda. She mumbled in her own language, and he resolved to find a translation dictionary. Some familiar words flowed through the gibberish, like "Mama" and "Papa."
Could she still have memories of her real parents? Her file hadn't held much information, except that her mother and father, both local schoolteachers, had died about eighteen months ago in a village raid. With no other living relatives, Magda had been placed in the orphanage.
She slid a smaller doll into the swing, the "Papa" doll behind pushing. A fist tightened around Gray's heart.
Of course she would have memories, spotty but real. His nephew remembered the color of a car they'd sold when he was two. Gray remembered his father—
"Grayson?" His mother's voice jolted him back to the present. "Where are you, sweetie?"
"Hi, Mom, still in Charleston. Sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it out there this weekend. I'm, uh, with a patient today." Not a lie, but good thing his mom couldn't pin him with those laser, lie-detector eyes or he'd be busted for sure. If he didn't keep her diverted, she'd be talking about his sex life again. "And I'm on call tomorrow."
"Oh, well, work has to come first," she chirped, ever the good soldier.
Gray grimaced. "I'll still be over next Saturday for the party."
"And we'll be at your little ceremony on base Friday."
Magda folded the "Mama's" legs and sat her on the tiny porch steps. Lori would have a field day analyzing the doll play unrolling before him.
Gray yanked his attention back to the phone conversation. "You don't have to come to that, you know."
"We wouldn't miss it. Your father's looking forward to it."
Yeah, right. "Okay, then."
The little girl doll swung higher. Magda giggled and squealed, sounds Gray had never heard from her before. Perhaps if he looked into an interpreter, Lori could collect those memories for Magda and record them for when she was older. Magda squealed again.
"Who's that?" Angela asked.
Busted. Apparently, his mother's radar extended through telephone wires. "Uh, my patient."
"You're still working with those children from overseas?"
"Uh-huh." Keep it simple and get off the phone. "Look, Mom—"
"What about that little patient you and Lori were going to check on?" His mother's bracelet jingled over the phone. "Are you seeing her?"
"Yeah."
"I thought she wasn't supposed to be in the hospital more than a couple of days."
Might as well spill it before his mother concocted something more convoluted than reality, although he couldn't imagine what that might be. "She's home. Her foster parents backed out, so Lori stepped in. She called for a consult when Magda got sick."
"Magda," she sighed, her grandmother bracelet chiming. "What a sweet little name."
He could almost hear the jeweler's engraving tool etching out the name on a new charm for his mother's bracelet. "She's a sweet kid."
When she wasn't scowling at him.
"I'll bet she would enjoy playing with all those other children at the base party Friday."
Seconds ticked by while Gray clamped his teeth together. Magda moved the papa doll as he pushed the swing. She should remember her father had played with her. Every kid should have happy childhood memories.
His own father had been big on camping trips and parks when Gray had been a boy. Of course, looking back now, Gray realized that's probably all their budget would allow. Those simple vacations made for good memories. Odd how he hadn't thought about them in years.
"Grayson? Are you still there?"