I remember the sound of their footsteps on the porch. I remember my mother’s hand gripping my shoulder. Most of all, I remember the expression on the officers’ faces before they even spoke.
Thomas’s aircraft had disappeared during a mission.
There was no confirmed evidence that he had survived. No body was recovered. After the search failed to locate him, he was declared missing in action.
I refused to believe it.
For months, I wrote letters to military offices, searched through reports, and waited for someone to tell me there had been a mistake.
Every time the telephone rang, my heart jumped.
Every time a car stopped outside our house, I rushed to the window.
But Thomas never came home.
My friends told me I needed to move forward. My mother gently encouraged me to meet other men. One of my colleagues eventually confessed that he had feelings for me, and for a brief moment, I considered accepting a dinner invitation.
