A CD of kiddie tunes chirped in the background, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" repeating. Magda bobbed her head in time while concentrating on an ABC coloring book. Lori picked up a blue crayon and forced herself to color the picture beside Magda's.
Blue. Like Grayson's apartment. His old apartment. What would his new one in Washington look like?
She flung aside the crayon and selected a pink one.
Pink, for another little girl in her life.
That crayon snapped in her fingers.
Lori carefully chose a green crayon and began filling in the capital T. A towering tree waited beneath the letter, a big oak packed with memories of when she might have made that baby.
She sighed. With her luck, Magda would be coloring "stars" for the S on the other page.
Lori dared a look.
S for soap.
Thank goodness.
She checked her watch for the tenth time. Another two minutes and her home-pregnancy test would be complete. Meanwhile she needed to focus on having fun with the child she already had, a child as dear to her as any she might carry below her heart for nine months. No matter how the test turned out, Lori wouldn't be giving up Magda. She wanted to be Magda's legal mother. The paperwork had already been filed.
"Tree." Lori pointed to her T page. "Tree."
"Twee," Magda repeated.
"Good girl, Magda! Good girl." She gathered her close, smiling down at Magda's precious, healthy face. Lori folded two fingers, leaving her pinky, pointer and thumb extended. "I love you."
Magda repeated the gesture, if not the words, without hesitation. Lori hugged her tighter. She didn't know whether to attribute the sting of tears to pregnancy or PMS. Either way, her throat clogged, and she wanted to share this moment with Gray so much it hurt.
Picking away at Lori's already crumbling defenses, the CD shifted to "Old MacDonald."
With the unerring timing of a child, Magda looked around the kitchen. "Doc?"
The lone word sucker punched Lori. She stroked Magda's mussed hair back. "Sorry, Magda. Doc's not here."
Why hadn't he called before leaving? Of course she'd told him she would contact him if she had "news" when he'd dropped her off after the day at his parents' house. But she'd been scared then, not by the thought of pregnancy, but by how much making love to Gray had shaken her.
Why hadn't she made the first move to phone him even once the past week? She told herself it was because she wanted definite news when they spoke—one way or the other.
A prideful part of her insisted she needed him to come to her this time in spite of what she'd said.
Lori checked her watch again, eyeing the sweep of the second hand as it ticked away the last … two seconds.
She bolted from her chair to the bathroom. The little indicator stick rested on the edge of the marble vanity. Lon shuffled forward.
A single diagonal line glared back at her. Negative.
She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would change the results. It didn't. Dreams of impish little boys and dimple-checked little girls slipped farther away, leaving behind a hollow disappointment that had nothing to do with PMS.
Lori flung the test into the trash and reminded herself she had Magda and couldn't love that little girl any more if she was her own child. But that failed pregnancy test severed the last tie to Gray.
She returned to the kitchen and found Magda intent on dragging out all the pots and pans. Lori passed her a wooden spoon—the one Gray had used as a microphone when he'd sung "Old MacDonald." Of its own volition, her mouth curved into a smile at the memory.
Should she call him or wait for the definite sign when she started … or finally received a positive test? Lori fingered the phone on the wall and considered calling his parents for his new number. Of course, she had his cell phone number, too. She lifted the receiver.
Damn him, if he wanted to know, he would call her.
She slammed it on the cradle.