In her letters, her face was exactly as I remembered it. I was worried that she would not feel the same about me. I was a different man than I had been when I left West Virginia. I was older, mentally more so than physically, and battle-weary. There were scars on my skin that had not been there when she had married me, but those weren't the ones that worried me the most. It was the scars left on my heart that I hoped she would be able to adapt to. Not all war wounds are visible, and every man that was on his way home right now was changed somehow.

The train began to slow and the announcement that we were approaching the Huntington Station came from somewhere behind me. As it stopped, I stepped off and began the short walk down the street. I could see my house from the station, and my heart pounded a little harder with every step I took. The moment of truth was upon me and, as ready as I was to see my wife, I almost wished that I had a bit longer to prepare. What if I had changed too much?

All of a sudden I was standing at the door, and I noticed that my hand was trembling as I reached to pull it open. I stepped inside and the welcome aroma of her freshly-baked cookies drifted down the hall. She was bent over and pulling them from the oven as I walked in and I drew a deep breath at the sight of her curves. The slamming screen door caught her attention before I could call out, and she leaned back to look down the hallway.

Our eyes met and, for a moment, we both froze. In the second it took us both to process what our eyes were seeing, a million thoughts and questions raced through my brain. That second seemed to take hours. Then, as quickly as it had paused, time sped back up and I had just enough time to drop my bag to the floor before she was leaping into my arms.

Suddenly, everything was happening at once. I caught her easily, my hands instantly finding purchase on her backside. Her legs were around my waist. Her hands were on the back of my neck. Her lips were against mine.

"You're home," she breathed into the kiss. I leaned back and stared at her soft, smiling face until she worriedly asked, "Carwood? You okay?"

Her fingertips ran across the scar on my cheek, left behind from the battle for Carentan. Then she leaned in and placed a light kiss against it before returning her worried gaze to my eyes, and every fear that had been racing through my mind before I walked through the door evaporated.

This was my Marie. My for-better-or-worse, in-sickness-in-health partner in life. My comfort. My safe place. My home. My wife.

"God, I've missed you," I answered, pulling her back into my kiss and finally allowing my body to respond to her touch as it wanted to.

While we'd been in Europe, I did everything I could not to think about this. Most of the men were unmarried, and they spoke in great detail about girls they'd "fraternized" with, both back home and since we'd crossed the Atlantic. I did my best not to listen, trying to avoid the instinctive reminder that I had a wife I was missing terribly, and the more visceral reminder that I hadn't been able to touch her… that way… in a very long time. Well, I was touching her now.

Her body melted into mine, her fingers sliding up the back of my neck as her hips shifted involuntarily against mine. She sighed against my lips and I swept my tongue against hers. My hands clutched her thighs, trying desperately to pull her closer, and I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating on pouring every ounce of passion I'd been holding back for the last three years into that kiss.

My feet remembered the steps, and I carried her toward the bedroom without ever opening my eyes. She unbuttoned my shirt somewhere along the way, sliding her hands down my chest and abdomen, leaving goosebumps in her wake as she began to work on my belt. My knees hit the bed, and I laid her back across it, kissing down her jaw and neck as I freed her, one button at a time, from the dress she was wearing.

Slowly, deliberately, we freed each other from the clothes that remained between us, exploring as if for the first time. I felt as nervous as I had on our wedding night as we allowed our bodies to become reacquainted, but her hazy eyes and soft moans quickly reassured me that I still remembered how to please her.

She stretched out across the bed beneath me, her arms falling back above her head so that her whole body was exposed for my touch. I trailed my fingertips across her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps across her breasts, stomach, hips, and thighs. Then I traced the path of those goosebumps with my tongue, and she drew a sharp breath, tangling her fingers in my hair.

"I've missed every inch of you, Marie Lipton," I whispered, and the light breath that blew across her center caused her to shudder and pull me back up to her lips.

"Carwood, please…"

I didn't need her to finish. I knew what she was asking for. I tried to be gentle as I joined our bodies, stopping as our hips met again so that I could kiss her. She looked up into my eyes, nodding that it was okay for me to move again, and we both sighed with contented satisfaction at the feeling of her body wrapped so intimately around mine.

I pressed my lips to her neck again and she began to move beneath me, wrapping her legs around me and shifting her hips against mine, sending heat racing across my skin. She was letting me know she needed more. I snapped my hips forward and she cried out in pleasure as I touched some sensitive, hidden spot inside of her, so I repeated the motion. Her fingernails slid down my back this time, gripping at my lower body to encourage the motion.

My lips found hers again, the kiss all lips and tongues and teeth as she pulled me impossibly closer to her. My hand slipped down to clutch her hip, holding her still as my own thrusts became deeper and more forceful. She was whimpering softly into the kiss and trying desperately to move against me, and I whispered an "I love you" against her lips before I pushed myself up off of her.

Kneeling now, I draped her legs over my arms so that I could grip her hips, every movement becoming quicker and more forceful. Her hands rested on my chest now, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back as every move I made brought forth a cry of pleasure that sent blood rushing straight to the most sensitive parts of me.

I could feel her muscles begin to tense and quiver and I had to try hard to focus on pushing her over the edge before I got there. One hand slipped between us, and I brushed the bundle of nerves at her center. Her body went rigid, and the feeling of her release around me sent stars exploding behind my eyes. I could only groan her name as three years of love and longing poured out into that moment between us.

When we were spent, I lay down across the bed and pulled my wife's glistening body into my arms. She snuggled into me and placed a kiss against my chest.

"I was so worried that when you got home, things would be different somehow. That I wouldn't be what you remembered or what you wanted anymore. You've been through so much for so long and…"

"Yeah, I have. I've been wounded, worried, exhausted, and freezing for the better part of three years. I'm a different man than I was when I left. We all are. I want different things. Different things are important to me now," I answered, looking down at her now-worried eyes and smiling. Before she could ask anything, I finished, "In the plane, on the jump, when the bullets were flying… In those snow-covered foxholes in Belgium… you were all I thought about. Thinking about holding you is what kept me warm. Marie, baby, all I want right now is to never go another day without you in my arms."

She smiled, drawing me into another heated kiss as she rolled over on top of me, this time joining our bodies on her terms. That night, we talked, laughed, kissed, cuddled, and made love until the sun came up. In fact, we spent most of the next day in bed too, although we did get up long enough to eat breakfast… homemade cookies.