“Just doing my duty.” He shrugs lightly. “Pop’s orders.”

A plausible enough reason, but there’s a flash of care in his eyes that affirms his motives go deeper. With his hand lying mere inches away, I have an urge to reach over and grab hold. Right then, he raises his fingers as if sharing the impulse, only to curl them inward. “Anyhow,” he says, “I should let you get back. Must be about suppertime.”

Panic grips my gut, a merciless wringing. He can’t leave. Not yet.

“We could eat together,” I say. “Here, in the officers’ mess. Or…at the lounge of my inn. Or anywhere else, if you’d prefer something other than stew.” I smile, hopeful. “Your pick and no fuss from me.”

He contemplates and murmurs, “That sounds nice.” The tension in me loosens as he angles toward me, until I register the graveness in his face. “But I can’t.”

My heart plunges, dropped through a trapdoor I believed was boarded up for good. “How silly of me,” I say casually. “You have an early flight.”

He offers a tender smile, playing along. “Yeah, I ought to hit the sack.” With that, he rises with hat in hand. Then he picks up my briefcase, and against a sudden weight of dread, I follow him to stand.

As we reverse our path in silence, I catch a glint from a pin on his lapel, a gold sphinx. The insignia of U.S. Military Intelligence. That’s when I recall my own lapel pin, tacked to my coat.

Oh no. The sweetheart wings. He might have spotted them and mistook their meaning. But how would I even bring them up to clarify?

Then again, would it change our situation for the better? If anything, perhaps he’ll feel entirely freed for another girl, if he doesn’t already. I’m tempted to probe, but knowing what he deserves and hearing the details are two different things.

“I nearly forgot,” he says, setting down my bag.

I faintly realize we’re at our starting point, the area now clear of others.

From a pocket of his coat, he produces an object that fills his palm. A toy wooden train.

Our train.

“This belongs to you.” He holds it out for me to take.

I’m astounded he brought it all this way. At least this confirms that his coming to see me wasn’t an afterthought. Still, I decline. “It was a gift. Remember?”

“I was grateful to have it,” he replies softly. “But it was never really mine.” He secures the train in my palm, and I realize then what he came for: closure.