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precautions.
    Beneath her feet, a rumbling vibration began. Annemarie sucked in her breath and returned to the window. “The train—it’s here!”
    The rumble deepened, setting Annemarie’s insides aquiver as the depot erupted into a flurry of excited activity. The big black engine appeared through a cloud of steam, brakes squealing. Waiting family and friends burst through the doors and waved frantically as the train slowed and finally stopped.
    Stepping onto the platform, Annemarie scanned the passenger car windows for a glimpse of her sweetheart. An elderly gentleman stepped off the train, his arms full of wrapped Christmas gifts. His appearance brought a shout of joy from a couple nearby with a young boy in tow.
    Next came a soldier—Jack Trapp, the lad whose family lived across the street from the Kendalls. My, how he’d grown up, and praise God he’d come back alive and whole! Then, seeing only his mother and his fourteen-year-old sister there to meet him—another sister still served in France with the Army Signal Corps—Annemarie’s heart clenched. Mr. Trapp had passed away last summer, a terrible blow to the family, and poor Jack must now shoulder responsibilities as the man of the house.
    Other travelers emerged, welcomed by friends and family, but as each happy group departed, Annemarie’s anxiety grew. Where was Gilbert? The platform was nearly empty now. Besides the Kendalls and Ballards, the only people still waiting were a porter and two ambulance attendants from the Army and Navy Hospital.
    Finally, a soldier with a bandaged head limped down the steps from the last car. He wore a vacant expression, as if he wasn’t at all certain he was supposed to be here. An attendant hurried over and asked his name, then wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and helped him into the back of the ambulance.
    When two men in army green assisted an even more severely wounded soldier off the train, a coldness completely unrelated to the frigid December day crept through Annemarie’s limbs. Until today, the war had been a distant thing. No newspaper article, no radio announcement, not even letters from the front could begin to convey the emptiness, the bewilderment, the stark disillusionment she saw in these men’s eyes.
    “Oh, Papa.” The words were barely a whisper, a misty breath carried away by the wind. Annemarie hugged her father’s arm and buried her face in his coat sleeve.
    “I know, Annie-girl. Be strong now. Gilbert will need—” Papa gave her shoulder a firm pat. “Ah, look up and dry your tears. Here he comes!”
    Annemarie pushed away from her father and choked out a sob, her gaze searching out her sweetheart. Someone was lowering an empty wheelchair to the platform. On the steps above, Gilbert leaned heavily upon a uniformed man who helped him descend on his one good leg.
    “Gilbert! Oh, my son!” Mrs. Ballard dashed across the platform, the tails of her scarf flying like banners. She wrapped Gilbert in a desperate hug sure to crush the breath from his lungs.
    By the time Annemarie regained her senses enough to set her feet into motion, she found Gilbert surrounded by his mother, brother, and now an ambulance attendant as his companion helped him into the wheelchair. Mrs. Ballard chattered like a mynah bird while tearfully fussing over her son. Thomas laughed through his own tears and gave his brother a hearty slap on the back.
    The uniformed companion edged to one side, and as Annemarie drew near, she glimpsed the gold cross on his collar. He looked up at her with a sudden smile, then doffed his cap and stepped forward. “Annemarie. I’d know you anywhere.”
    Clear gray eyes met hers in a look both hesitant and compelling. Torn between urgency to make her way to Gilbert and curiosity about the intriguing stranger who somehow knew her name, she stammered a reply. “I’m—forgive me—he’s—”
    The fair-haired chaplain nodded and stepped out of her way. She hurried past, reaching