The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,102
they feed you in the Rangers? Better than the slop we get at the airfield.”
Healing warmth flowed through his heart and lungs and veins. “I want to hear. Tell me. Tell me your stories.”
46
TULLAHOMA
THURSDAY, JULY 20, 1944
Leah savored Clay’s handwriting as she walked down Jackson Street in the balmy summer evening. Since Rita Sue was watching Helen, Leah’s hands were free to hold the precious stationery.
If only she could have seen the reunion of the Paxton brothers! Clay’s letter overflowed with the joy of reconciliation.
On the final page he said he’d be returning stateside for more training—although he didn’t say what sort.
In his letters, he’d only told her a few details about what had happened in France—that he’d scaled the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc on D-day and had taken a bullet through the chest the next morning.
Leah pressed her hand over the scar on her chest, over a year old now. How much worse for Clay to have taken a bullet.
But something strange stood out to her. Not once since D-day had he mentioned his recurring dream, even though she’d asked about it. Had it failed to come to pass?
Then the last paragraph—how it destroyed her heart each time she read it: “I’m looking forward to seeing you and to meeting Little Miss Helen. We have a lot to talk about, you and I.”
Any other wife would thrill to the thought of sweet words murmured in her ear. But Leah knew they had to talk about lawyers and papers and alimony and other horrible things.
Leah kissed the letter and folded it. She could stop the divorce with three little words—I love you. Part of her wanted to say them, shout them, and free them from her heart.
If he knew she’d fallen in love with him, he’d feel obligated to stay married to her, honorable man that he was.
As much as she wanted him to stay, she didn’t want him to stay out of obligation and honor. Manipulating him with her feelings would be as selfish as declaring herself to her sisters would have been.
Loving Clay meant releasing him, and loving God meant trusting him to provide.
Leah tucked the letter in her purse and entered the Coffee Children’s Home for the board meeting. Children ran out from the dining room to greet her. She hugged them all, then sent them back to finish their homework.
Miss King, Mrs. Whipple, and Mrs. Susskind greeted Leah warmly. Mrs. Channing shook her hand, which was far warmer than her usual chilly greeting. But Mrs. Ross made a face as if Leah reeked of garbage. How very odd.
Mrs. Channing opened the meeting, and the board members ran through their reports.
When they finished, Miss King turned to Leah. “Mrs. Paxton, please tell the board about that idea you and Mrs. Sheridan discussed with me.”
“Thank you.” After the Chicago trip, Leah had returned to volunteering at the library and to sorting donated books. “Mrs. Sheridan is delighted with how the orphans conduct the scrap drives. She’s become especially fond of Marty, who picks up her scrap each week. She asked if the older children might be interested in volunteering at the library.”
Mrs. Channing’s eyes stretched wide. “She wants them there?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leah forced a smile. “We’d like to start a junior librarian program. The children would help the community and also learn useful skills.”
Mrs. Channing adjusted her reading glasses. “You don’t need the board’s permission for that any more than you did for the scrap drives. Proceed.”
“Thank you.” Miss King grinned at Leah.
“I have a proposal.” Mrs. Whipple’s face crinkled in the sweetest way. “A few months ago, Mrs. Paxton proposed a pancake breakfast.”
Leah winced at the memory. “I’m—”
“Now is the time.” She folded her plump hands on the table. “My friends say they never used to think twice about the children’s home. But now that they’re acquainted with the children through the scrap drives, they’re noticing. And they’re noticing a need for repairs. I hadn’t seen anything, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be.”
Miss King twiddled a strand of hair. “I admit we’ve fallen behind in maintenance.”
Leah held her breath. How would Mrs. Channing and the others react?
Mrs. Whipple slid a piece of paper to Mrs. Channing. “I propose we hold a pancake breakfast and work party. Folks could paint or fix things or do yard work, and the children will cook and serve the breakfast. Thanks to Mrs. Paxton’s scrap drives, folks will be happy to help.”