She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She looked back at him. He wasn't smiling, and there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Oh, God, you're serious..."

"I guess I am."

"Well, I don't need a military I.D. that badly." She let out a purposeful laugh, hoping in vain that the subject would die.

"I'm not just talking about the I.D.," He said as if the thought had just occurred to him. "I want to marry you, Jordan."

She let out a stunned breath. "I can't. We...can't."

"Why not?"

She sputtered. "Well, it's too soon, for one."

"We've known each other almost five years. We can finish each other's sentences."

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Woody."

"My parents got engaged on their second date and were married six weeks later. It can work."

"Yeah, well, this isn't Kewaunee in 1972. It's not a good idea. Think about it. Woody." She was still trying to be playful, to give him the opportunity to admit it had all been a particularly bad joke that they would never speak of again.

"Come on, Jordan. You're like the poster girl for impulsive behavior. You've never thought any major decision through in your life. Why start now?"

She raised her shoulders helplessly. "Because..."

"Because?" he shot back.

"Well..this whole 'military wife' thing. Maybe I'm just a little uncomfortable with it. Can you really picture me doing the whole white-gloves-and-tea-parties thing?"

"Jordan, the military hasn't been like that in forty years. Especially not the Guard. You don't have to pretend to be something you're not. I don't want you to change."

"Well, then there's the bombs and the guns. I mean, I think ice hockey is too violent."

"The one reason you haven't given me is that you don't love me. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me, and I'll take the proposal off the table. We'll never mention it again." He shook his head and gave her a knowing smile. "You can't do it. Can you?"

Her eyes dropped. "No."

"Well, then why?"

"Because!"

"Because why, Jordan? Why?"

"Because!" She looked back up at him but could barely see him through the tears that rimmed her eyes. "Because I don't want to be a widow before I'm a wife, that's why. I don't want our life together to be a series of goodbyes. I don't want to be like Capt. Mullen's wife, wondering how I'm going to tell our little girl that her father's not going to be there for her high school graduation or to walk her down the aisle. I don't want to be left with nothing but an American flag in some dusty display case and the 'thanks of a grateful nation.' That's why!"

She looked at him, breathless, and as stunned as he was that she had said it. She covered her face with her hands. He was silent for a moment, and she could feel him sliding closer to her on the bench.

"Even if I weren't in the military...there are no guarantees in anyone's life." His voice was gentle. "Especially for cops." He slipped a comforting arm around her.

"This is different, and you know it."

He sighed and fell back against the bench. "You're right. I'm sorry." She reached for her things on the seat next to her and rose. "Jordan, where are you going?" he asked with concern.

"I don't know...I need some time."

"I didn't meant to make you..." He reached out for her hand.

"Please, Woody..." He let her go, and she stumbled blindly back down the path into the parking lot. She had forgotten which car was hers, and she turned in frustrated circles jabbing at the keyless remote until she saw the headlights of her rental flash. She slid into the driver's seat and broke down into sobs as she pounded on the steering wheel.

She had left Woody sitting on the bench to think through what had just happened, but she found that the jetlag had robbed her of all cognitive capabilities. After sitting there for some time in a fuzzy-headed daze, she got out of the car and headed back into the hospital. Perhaps there was no thinking about it, anyway.

She wandered numbly through the halls and found herself in front of the chapel. It had been a long time since she had prayed, but she thought she might at least have some solitude here. She pushed the door open and went inside. She almost turned away when she saw the woman sitting on the end of the back pew. She was crying and mouthing the words of a silent prayer. There was something wrapped around her hands that she pressed against her lips, and Jordan thought for a moment that it must be a rosary.

But then she realized it was a set of dog tags, and that if this woman had them, the owner no longer needed them. Jordan backed silently from the room and left the woman to her grief.

She walked purposefully back up to Woody's room. When she entered, he was packing his things into a small duffle bag. He stopped and turned to her, his forehead creased with anxiety.

"The Air National Guard. How long do you plan to stay in?" she said in a rush.

He blinked. "I have six more years to go before I hit twenty. Then I can get my retirement pension when I'm 65."

"What happens if you die?" She fired another question at him. "I want to know what to expect."

"If I die on active duty you get a $200,000 life insurance payout."

"No, I don't mean the money. What happens. How do I find out. Because I never want to have to hear about it from TV again."

He sat on the bed, but she remained standing with her arms akimbo.

"Hanscom will send two casualty officers," he began dispassionately. "They won't call, they'll come in person and give you the news. You won't be left alone for the first 48 hours. The chaplain will be there. Probably the squadron commander's wife, too. She'll coordinate with the other wives, and you'll have more food than you know what to do with."

She nodded like a prosecutor satisfied with her cross-examinatioh. Only then did she let out a small, weary smile, and she sat on the bed next to him.

"Ask me again."

He mirrored her with a nervous smile. "Will you marry me?"

She took a deep breath.

"Yes."