Tom—wait. She held it closer to her face and stared at the taller one, as she had so many times since it had been sent to her.

Could it be?

She turned slowly to peer at the soldier and hoped he wouldn’t notice. But when she faced him, he had set the application down and was sitting up straight.

She narrowed her eyes and tried to take him in. The lines of his jaw. The set of his lips.

“That’s a nice picture,” he said, pointing to the one in her hands.

Margaret looked down at it and then back up at him.

Possibly. This man in front of her was more filled out than the one in the photograph. William/Tom was lanky.

Her hopes were deceiving her.

“Are you finished with the application?” she asked. She was embarrassed by the shakiness in her voice.

“All done and ready for your perusal.”

Huh. Perusal. Most people would just say to look at.

The name was blank, eliminating the clue that would have confirmed her suspicions.

Address:

Mount Airy, Virginia

She couldn’t breathe. Tom was from that town.

Occupation:

Farmer

Professional experience:

Sergeant in the 101st Airborne. Recipient of the Bronze Star for Valor in Holland.

Master’s degree from the University of Virginia

Position you’re applying for:

Margaret Jane Beck’s dinner date tonight

Her eyes welled up and she put her hand to her mouth. She was thankful that she’d worn her hair down today—it fell over her face and he shouldn’t be able to see her reaction.

After all this time. After all they’d been through—together, yet apart—here he was. Tom. Tom, the tall one. Tom, friend to John and William. Tom, the man she’d come to dream about, awake and asleep.

She cleared her throat and kept her composure.

“You didn’t state your name, soldier.”

“I didn’t?” He smiled and leaned in. He smelled of Dove soap. Just like the kind her mother bought.

Gosh, it was hot in here. Gladys’s office didn’t have a window.

“You know, someone once lied to me about his name. I’m not sure that omitting it is much better.”

He stood up and came closer until he was hovering over her desk.

“Then that’s a mistake that I’ll never make again.”

His eyes—the eyes she’d longed to see. So near. They were so near. She wanted to close her own but was afraid the mirage would be gone when she opened them again.

She whispered, “And you think you have a reasonable chance of getting the job you’re applying for?”

“Well, now, that’s not totally up to me.”