A widower of five years himself, Frank Douglas had astounded her that evening at dinner when he had very quietly proposed that they marry. He knew she could never love him, that is, not in the same manner she would undoubtedly feel toward a younger, more desirable man, he had calmly admitted, but he vowed security and abundant kindness, plus the very limit of his ardent capabilities, should she want them. Sex was of relative unimportance to him, he'd shyly assured her, promising that he would always leave that department up to her. In short, he very much needed and wanted her, no longer as a secretary, but as his wife!

Remembering it all vividly, the dazzling, blue-eyed young blonde recalled how thrilled and honored she had felt, and how stupid she must have looked in her wordless astonishment as she sat there in dazed silence listening to his quiet and almost humble proposal. Lisa, his daughter, was seventeen, he had gone on, graduating from high school in June. She would either be going off to college or, if she had her way, marrying young Paul Fulton. In any event, shortly she'd be flying from the nest to leave him rattling alone around that big house. Above all, he abhorred the thought of that aloneness, but not anyone could eliminate it. Some might lessen it… but she, as his wife, could make it an impossibility!

Shirley had been too dumbfounded, overawed by his offer to answer him that night, and gently smiling he'd said that he understood and was willing to wait for a few days for her to consider. Of course, what he could not have known, for she had never discussed her personal life with him, was that the only man she had ever loved would be his age had Viet Nam not claimed him!

Shirley had lived the life of an army brat. Her father had been an army career officer and most of her life was spent on U.S. posts throughout the world.