and fended off counterattacks. But by the end of the day, I was still alive and hadn’t seen a pillbox like in my dream.”
“I—I’m glad you were wrong about the dream.”
“I wasn’t wrong.” He let out a wry chuckle. “I woke up the next morning in a crater, just like in my dream. I looked over the top, and there was a gun casemate, exactly where I knew it would be. And I knew—I knew it was time.”
Leah clapped one hand over her mouth.
“I volunteered.” His eyes grew serious and his chin determined. “I ran up to that casemate just like in my dream and threw in my grenade. The Germans were firing a machine gun, closer and closer.”
She cringed at the thought of the bullet piercing his chest.
Clay folded his hand over hers, clasped on the chair back, and his broad fingers softened her grip and worked inside until she was clasping his hand instead, clasping it for all she was worth.
“Leah—” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat, his gaze delving deep into hers. “I saw the bullet, and I didn’t want it. I wanted to see you. I wanted to see Helen. The girls I love.”
Her knees threatened to give way, and her hand fell from her mouth to grip the chair.
“I twisted away, so the bullet hit here”—he took her hand and pressed it against his right chest—“instead of here.” And he pressed her hand over his heart.
Leah spread her fingers wide over the hard wall of his torso, the life in him thumping against her palm. “I—I’m glad.”
Clay lowered his chin and caressed her hand, her fingers, and her wedding band. “I finally figured out the dream. All this time I thought the dream was a premonition of my death, to help me prepare. To allow me to help you and the baby. To give me courage in the final moment.”
Leah couldn’t look in his eyes, only at the row of colorful ribbons he’d won for that courage, at the chest still breathing and beating with life. Thank goodness, with life.
“Leah, it wasn’t a premonition. It was a warning.”
“A warning?” She dragged her gaze up, but his head was still lowered, his brow not far from her lips.
“God sent the dream as a warning, so I’d recognize the moment when it came, so I could make a choice. And I chose. I chose hope and life and love. Because of you. Because I love you.” He raised his chin.
Leah saw the truth in his eyes—the gentle strength, the vulnerable confidence, the pained joy, and the love, deep and certain. “Oh, Clay.”
With a huff of breath, he pulled her hand from his chest and held it before him, turning her ring and frowning at it. “I know this is a lot to spring on you all at once. I made a promise to you. I promised if I survived, we’d get a divorce. And now I want to break that promise.”
“Clay, I—” Her words clumped together and plugged her throat.
He squeezed her hand. “However, on the day I gave you this ring, I made a higher promise. I promised before God to have and to hold you for the rest of my days.”
Leah’s free hand floated up from the chair into the space between them, a space she wanted to close.
“I’m asking you a favor.” He spoke to her hand. “I love you and want to stay married to you, but that isn’t what you agreed to. Could you do me the favor of holding off that divorce for a while? Maybe till I’ve finished my three months of training? If by then you know for sure you don’t want me for your husband, then I’ll go through with it. No fussing. But first, please let me try to win your heart.”
The chair that had been her dearest help was now her most exasperating hindrance. She shoved it aside.
Clay raised those warm, dark eyes, his brows high.
Just when she needed words most, she had none. She stepped into the space between his knees, gripped his lapels, and pressed her face to his shoulder.
“Hey, now.” He set his hands on her waist. “What’s all this about?”
“You already have it,” she mumbled into the soft wool of his jacket. “My heart. You can’t win what already belongs to you.”
His chest lifted a bit. “You don’t mean . . . ?”
“Oh, a fine poetess I am.” She worked one arm over his shoulder, and she clutched the back