to leave, to fight in the impending war. Chrissie had shared Matt’s excitement at the prospect; he’d looked forward to testing all his training in combat and had assured her that, with all of the technological advances in warfare, the chances of him being hurt were slim.
She’d held on to that belief as a shield against the fear that always lurked on the edge of her consciousness. That giddy optimism had allowed her to say yes when he proposed, to ignore her natural aversion to risk. And when they’d said their vows in front of family and friends at the base chapel, she’d looked forward to the years ahead, certain of their bright future in a way that only a person who has never known tragedy can be.
“I’ve been wondering if I should take that picture down.”
Her mother’s words interrupted Chrissie’s thoughts. She tore her gaze from the photograph and found her mother studying her, worry lines creasing her forehead. “Why would you want to do that?” Chrissie asked.
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