The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,108
can’t start healing people right now. I helped in the hospital in England as part of my rehabilitation. It felt right. It’s who I really am. So I’ll serve as a medic for the duration, then go to college afterward.”
Leah sipped from her glass of milk. “Then in eight years you’ll be a physician.” Dr. Clay Paxton. She could see him in a white coat warming the bell of a stethoscope in his thick hands. He would be the best doctor ever.
Clay set down his spoon and leaned back in his chair, although his bowl wasn’t empty. “What do you think about all this?”
What did she think? Her heart wanted to be a part of this grand plan, but her mind knew she’d only hold him back and get in the way.
She had her own plan. When Helen started first grade, Leah would find a job so Clay wouldn’t have to support her any longer. She might even be able to work as a librarian.
“Leah?” Clay’s mouth turned down at the corners. “What do you think? I’d like your opinion.”
She forced a smile, and then her love for him made it real. “I think it’s perfect. You were meant to be a doctor. Your parents say so, and I see it too. I’m so glad you’ll be able to make that dream come true.”
A half smile, then Clay turned his attention to his chili.
Releasing him was for his own good. If only it didn’t have to hurt so much.
49
TULLAHOMA
THURSDAY, AUGUST 10, 1944
Where was he? Clay turned his vision ninety degrees and oriented himself. Leah’s house. His house.
The savory smell of chili lingered, and he smiled and sat up on the couch, the blanket discarded on the floor.
When Leah had told him she’d made Mama’s chili, he’d come awfully close to taking her in his arms and kissing the daylights out of her. But that would have been the stupidest way to declare his love to a woman who had been attacked and violated by a man.
After a good belly scratch, Clay stood to do his chest and shoulder exercises.
Sounds rose from Leah’s room and the adjoining nursery, with Leah using her singsong mama voice.
Clay swung his arms behind his back and held the stretch. My, Leah was beautiful, more beautiful than the year before, and more than the photograph he’d cherished.
He flexed his arms like football goalposts, pushing back over and over to strengthen his back. Why hadn’t he told her she was beautiful at the depot? Instead he’d said, “Well,” and pecked her cheek like a deranged chicken.
He thrust his fists in front of him and pulled back and forth as if rowing a boat. Last night he’d avoided talking about love and marriage. She’d approved of his plans for the future but hadn’t said whether she wanted to be a part of them.
Clay reached his left arm overhead and leaned to the right. Why would she say anything? He’d asked in a general way, requesting her opinion on his plans. No wonder she’d looked confused. He should have been direct and clear.
Clay reversed the stretch—the painful side, pulling the scar tissue. The rest of the evening, they’d talked about his reunion with his brothers and she’d shown him the articles and photographs of her family—even her birth certificate.
He grabbed his left elbow and drew it across his chest, then repeated on the right. All of the conversation had been great, but in a friendly, brotherly-sisterly way.
Today. Today he’d tell her how he felt and ask her to give him a chance.
He rubbed his scruffy face. Not looking like a grizzly bear, he wouldn’t.
Clay grabbed his toiletry kit and uniform and went into the bathroom. Soon he came out, showered, shaven, and dressed in his khaki shirt and trousers.
Now the smell of eggs and fried potatoes climbed above the smell of chili.
Leah stood at the sink, scrubbing a pan, an apron tied over a short-sleeved dress in a golden color. Her hair was down, and all he wanted to do was brush those curls aside and kiss her slender neck.
He pulled himself together. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Leah smiled over her shoulder. “Let me get your breakfast.”
“Thank you.” He could get used to this. Helen was propped up in the high chair, chewing on a zwieback biscuit, and he ruffled her short black curls. “Good morning to you too, missy.”
She smiled around that biscuit.
Leah brought him a plate of scrambled eggs and potatoes.