vital that she conceal her love so he’d feel no guilt or concern when he went his way in the world.
A chugging sound rose to the north, and Leah spun that direction. He was coming.
Lord, help me. Clay deserved to find a woman he adored as much as Leah adored him.
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.
She took the reins. “If you haven’t eaten, I have dinner ready at my—your house. You do pay the rent.”
“Our house.” He opened the door to the depot for her. “You’re the one who lives there.”
Leah pushed the carriage through the waiting room, and Clay darted ahead to open the door on the other side.
“For tonight at least, you’ll have to live there too.” Leah headed south on Atlantic. “I’m afraid the house is rather small, but the hotels don’t have any vacancies.”
He shrugged. “All I need is a blanket and a spot on the floor. In this heat, the blanket is optional.”
“Nonsense. Alice Mason just gave me her old couch. I’ll sleep there and—”
“No, you don’t.” Clay’s dark eyes crinkled with amusement. “I won’t kick you out of your bed.”
“But you’re fresh out of the hospital.”
“And the couch sounds just dandy. No arguing.”
She glanced him up and down. “How are you? You look well.”
His teeth shone white. “I feel great. A few twinges of pain, nothing to speak of. Remarkable, considering a bullet passed through my chest.”
Leah’s throat clogged. What if that bullet had hit his heart?
“They’ve made incredible progress in thoracic surgery since the war started,” Clay said. “In World War I, a soldier with the same injury would have ended up a chest cripple, but here I am, cleared for active duty.”
“That’s wonderful.” She turned left on Moore. “So, what are your plans? How long will you be in Tullahoma? Are you going home? You said something