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especially since they had both come to fear Mike was dead. But they’d never openly admitted that to her.
    Kyle was coming to be with her. He’d always kept up her hope, her belief that Mike was still alive.
    â€œHow am I going to handle this?” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “How?”
    Right now, her emotions were little more than taut butterfly’s wings ready to shatter at the slightest movement. Kyle, flying in from Griffiss AFB, was supposed to land momentarily. A part of her was so weak after the years of terrible waiting and wondering, of being in limbo about Mike, that she ached to simply be held by Kyle. Gale knew she’d feel safe and protected from a world gone mad. The peace she’d felt in his arms five years ago when she’d burned her hand would be there, too. Her emotions were playing tricks on her. Gale thought she had heard longing in Kyle’s voice when she’d made that phone call, but that was impossible.
    She began to absently tear off and collect the Teletype paper, gathering it from each machine and then clipping it to posting boards. Some of the sheets would be used in plotting the midnight weather map an hour from now. Walking out into the main office, Gale put the weather information on the desk where a clean sheet of map paper lay. Working kept her from thinking. Working kept her from feeling.
    Halting, Gale lifted her chin and looked out the windows into the gloomy darkness. The landing apron in front of the building had very few jets parked on it. No one flew during the holidays unless they were on alert duty. It was raining. The gusting wind sent sheets of water across the tarmac. Gale prayed Kyle would be strong enough for both of them. The waiting...the wondering had taken their toll. She was too emotionally drained to be strong any longer.
    She moved to the front desk and stood watching the double doors, and she wondered when Kyle would arrive. His letters had been filled with anecdotes about his military life, funny stories about things that had happened to him, stories meant to make her laugh, to pull her out of her depression. During the past year, there had been a wonderful shift inhis letters—they were more personal, more about the man, Kyle Anderson, and not the pilot. Those letters were special to her.
    Kyle’s phone calls weren’t frequent. He called on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas, just to check in on her. Kyle knew what it was like to be in the service and alone on holidays. She ached to hear his voice, to listen to him laugh and tell his jokes. There was nothing but good in Kyle Anderson. His loyalty to Mike was unswerving.
    The doors opened.
    * * *
    Kyle stepped into the dimly lit Ops area and shook water off his olive-drab flight suit. In one hand he had his helmet bag, in the other, a small traveling bag with two sets of clean civilian clothes inside, including the sweater Gale had made for him. His F-4 Phantom was parked at the hangar, the crew chief having given him a ride over to Ops.
    Sensing Gale’s presence, he looked up. He hadn’t seen her in five years; he hadn’t dared. Her heart-shaped face was the same, and so were those haunting green eyes, that full mouth and slender build. Her hair was longer, and he was pleased about that for no discernible reason. The strands were pulled into a French twist behind her head, with feathery bangs barely touching her eyebrows.
    It was the look of utter devastation on Gale’s pale features that forced him to remain strong, because he could see that she wasn’t. This wasn’t the Gale he’d met five years ago, the woman who had courage under incredible duress. Five years without Mike had ravaged her in many ways. And still, she was the most beautiful woman Kyle had ever seen. The years hadn’t dimmed his memory of her. Like a miser, Kyle had hoarded that precious, sweet memory, pulling it out from time to time to savor it,