Soldier Doll by Jennifer Gold

looks around. She had expected the university building to be old and grand, with stone walls and archways and overgrown ivy. Turrets, possibly. But this building looks more like the hospital where she’d had her tonsils out back in the third grade. The walls are painted a sickly olive. The floors are linoleum, the kind that never looks entirely clean. It’s hard to tell what color they might have been originally. Overhead, fluorescent lights hum.
    â€œThis way.”
    Elizabeth follows her father through a narrow corridor. Reflexively, she feels inside her bag again. Still there. She rests her hand lightly on the bundled package within.
    â€œShe was in New York, at a conference.” Her dad is explaining why it took nearly two weeks to get in touch with Madeleine McLeod. “She’s pretty well-known, I think, in her field. Here we are—223.” He knocks, and they wait.
    Dr. McLeod opens the door. She is a tall woman, one of the tallest people Elizabeth has ever met. Her hair is short, a fiery auburn color, and she wears it tucked haphazardly behind her ears. Unusually dressed, she is wearing a long, green lace skirt paired with a men’s gray suit jacket. On her feet are tan construction boots; hanging from her ears are what look like bright blue parrot feathers. Elizabeth likes her immediately.
    â€œJohn.” Her voice is warm. She ushers them into her office. “Good to see you. So you’re living in Toronto now, I guess. Settling in okay?”
    â€œGetting there,” he says. He smiles and shakes her hand in greeting. “I’m doing some contract work with the air force, Trenton base.”
    â€œIsn’t that quite far?” Dr. McLeod frowns. “It’s about two hours away, no?”
    â€œIt is,” he agrees. “But Amanda got a great job at one of the hospitals here, so we decided on Toronto.”
    â€œLong commute,” she observes.
    â€œI’m shipping out in October,” he explains. “To Afghanistan. They need engineers over there.”
    â€œAfghanistan!” Dr. McLeod looks surprised. Her father quickly looks over at Elizabeth, who stares back at him, impassive.
    â€œHow long will you be out there?”
    â€œA year. But I get a couple weeks’ leave at Christmas and then again next summer.” He looks around. “Great space you have here.”
    The office is large but has a cozy feel. Elizabeth looks at the faded rug, patterned with small blue-and-white squares. An odd assortment of pictures crowds the walls. It feels more like their old living room back in Vancouver than a workplace. The walls are a soft yellow, and an impressive collection of books rests in oak bookcases that decorate the perimeter. Tucked away at the back is a comfortable-looking pair of worn blue armchairs with a paisley pattern; in the center is a round wooden table with mismatched chairs. The desk is in a corner, pushed to one side, covered in books and papers. Elizabeth wonders, briefly, how it doesn’t collapse beneath the weight of so many books. She stares at the room, impressed that an adult has succeeded in making such a spectacular mess.
    â€œIt does the job.” Dr. McLeod smiles, her parrot earrings swinging. “You must be Elizabeth. Having a good summer vacation?”
    â€œNot bad, thanks.” Elizabeth suddenly feels shy and small. She fingers the long rope of faux pink pearls she rescued from a box her mother had marked for donation before the move. “I like your earrings.”
    â€œThanks!”
    Dr. McLeod claps her hands together. “So!” she says. She motions them over to the meeting table, urging them to sit. Like the desk, it’s a disaster. Elizabeth stares at the clutter of scientific journals, folders, and different-colored pens. Dr. McLeod apologizes and clears some space so they can all see each other. “What brings you both here? A big find, I hope.” She grins, dropping a