The maroon-and-yellow locomotive of the Nashville, Chattanooga & St. Louis Railroad came down the tracks, steam pluming behind.

Passengers stepped out of the main waiting room and the colored waiting room, ready to board, and Leah retreated to an open spot by the white frame depot where she wouldn’t be in the way.

“Chattanooga Choo Choo” played in Leah’s head. With Clay’s radio in the house, she was becoming familiar with popular music, but the lyrics anticipating a romantic depot reunion didn’t help her state of mind.

The train stopped with a sigh of steam, and doors opened. Soldiers and civilians streamed out, but where was Clay?

Then he stepped out in uniform, as grand as an Indian chief, and he slipped on a garrison cap over his shiny black hair.

His gaze landed on her, and a grin spread, broader than any she’d seen from him.

That grin unleashed her own. Without thinking, she waved wildly. She tried to restrain herself, but it was too late.

He strode right up to her, even more handsome and bronzed and strong than she remembered. “Hello, Leah.”

That voice. It wove its way deep into her heart and resonated. She swallowed hard. “Hello, Clay.”

“Well.” He set his hand on her shoulder, ducked down, and planted a kiss on her cheek, so fleeting, she wouldn’t have known its existence but for the lingering warmth.

Her right hand had found his waist as if it had a mind of its own.

With his hand on Leah’s shoulder, Clay turned to Helen. His smile changed, new and wondrous.

“Say hello to your daddy,” Leah said.

Helen crowed, and Clay and Leah laughed.

Clay took Helen’s hand and made a courtly bow. “Miss Helen Margarita Paxton, it is a pleasure to meet you.” And he kissed that tiny plump hand.

Leah’s heart melted and molded into a new shape, completely contoured around this man before her. She would never love any man as much as she loved him.

Clay released Helen’s hand.

Before he could straighten up, the baby grabbed his ear and crowed again.

Clay twisted to face Leah with a comical look, and he laughed. Leah laughed too, and Helen added her adorable throaty giggle.

For one blissful moment they stood there, linked and laughing, in a perfect triangle of happiness. If only it could last.

Clay extricated himself from the baby’s iron grip. “Reckon I ought to fetch my duffel. Be right back.” He tipped a little salute to Leah and marched down the platform.

Leah settled Helen into her carriage for the walk home and settled her heart back into its proper place.

Clay returned with a canvas bag over his shoulder and a hesitant expression. With only a telegram and a phone message since his arrival, they’d had no opportunity to discuss accommodations.