The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,116
for Doc Block, a fine physician and an even finer man.
The mariachi music stopped, and Pawpaw lifted his guitar. “It took a war to bring my grandsons together again, but here they are, three of the finest heroes you’ve ever seen. On the sea, in the air, and on the ground.”
Clay rolled his eyes to Wyatt, but his usually modest brother smiled with appropriate pride. Across the lawn, Adler set down the two children, avoiding everyone’s stares, not like the boy who’d thrived on adulation as the star of the Kerrville High baseball team.
The war had done more than bring them together. It had changed them all.
“Here they are!” Pawpaw said. “The Gringo Mariachis, together again.”
The tamales would have to wait.
Clay headed up to the wooden stage. He plopped his sombrero on his head and unpacked his violin and bow, while Adler pulled out his trumpet and Wyatt his guitar.
“Merry Christmas, y’all,” Wyatt said from under his broad white sombrero. “We’re going to play ‘Las Ma?anitas.’” His voice flickered out at the end.
Some of the faces before them looked hopeful, some looked leery, and some downright hostile. As family, they all knew what Wyatt and Adler had done.
“We’re ready,” Clay said in a firm voice to his brothers. “Uno, dos, tres.”
He drew his bow across the strings, Wyatt began strumming, and Adler put the trumpet to his lips.
The music picked up confidence, even though they’d had little time to practice. Each instrument added its own flavor and strength, blending and weaving together.
Adler lowered his trumpet, and they sang, their voices merging and climbing into the cool air. The familiar Spanish rolled off Clay’s tongue.
They watched each other as they played, keeping tempo in silent communication.
Clay’s heart swelled to fullness. In the future, moments of tension would arise between them, maybe even arguments. But nothing—nothing—could rip them apart again.
At the back of the crowd, Daddy stood with his arm around Mama, who wiped her face with a hankie. Both faces were wild with emotion.
This barbecue was a feast thrown for their three prodigal sons.
Three. Clay might not have run away, but he’d been lost in a pit. And that pit had been partly of his own making. But he was out now, home for good, and joy welled up through his violin and his voice.
He’d been through a dark season. A time to lose what he’d treasured. A time to mourn his lost dreams. A time of war.
Now he lived in a new season. A time to heal, not just bodies but his family and his own heart. A time to keep and to love. And today, a time to laugh and dance.
Prayers of thanks floated up to the heavens. Only the Lord could turn the seasons. Only the Lord could put the shards of his life and his family back together into something stronger and more beautiful than before.
Wyatt, Adler, and Clay struck the final chord in unison, and the crowd applauded, their faces grinning or teary-eyed or hesitant, but each transformed.
With his bow in one hand and his violin in the other, Clay draped his arms over the shoulders of his brothers. His whole brothers. And they bowed as one.
His throat constricted. Not only had his forgiveness been the key to restoring his family, but it was the key to his brothers becoming accepted in the community again.
After the applause died, Pawpaw stepped onto the stage. “Dinner is served.”
Wyatt and Adler each gave Clay a glance full of meaning.
“It’s good,” Wyatt said. “It’s good to be back together.”
It certainly was. “Hurry up, or Uncle Emilio will eat all the tamales.”
“No kidding.” Adler poked Wyatt. “Race you.”
Off they ran, and Clay laughed. Some things would never change.
As much as he loved tamales, he had something better in mind. Despite Leah’s height, Clay had no trouble picking her out. She crossed the stream of the crowd, her face glowing just for him.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She hugged him tight.
Clay pressed a kiss to her soft curls.
Leah tipped up her face, her glistening eyelashes the only hint of tears. “I love you so much.”
He enjoyed this game they played. “Not as much as I love you.”
“I love you more than libraries.”
“Ah, you always say that.” He smacked her on the lips. “I love you more than—”
“I love you more than all the books in all the libraries in all the world.”
Clay’s words evaporated, and he swallowed at the radiance of her gaze. “That’s a whole lot.”
She pressed up on her toes for a kiss.
He whipped off his sombrero, held it as a shield from busybodies, and kissed her soundly. No book, no library could express the wonder and passion and joy he felt for his wife. Thank goodness she gladly accepted kisses in lieu of poetry.
She pulled away, plucked his sombrero out of his hand, and set it back on his head. “There. Very handsome.”
Clay eyed the second-floor window of their bedroom. Maybe no one would miss them . . .
Leah snuggled up. “Oh, Clay, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
“Me too.” He rocked her in a circle until he could no longer see that tempting window.
“Even with all the mariachi music, I can only think of ‘Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.’”
“Why is that, my little poetess?” How he loved her musings.
“The third verse. ‘Hail the heav’n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings.’ That’s what the Lord has done in our lives, in our family—light, life, healing, peace.”
“So true.” Across the lawn, Daddy and Mama were directing people in line, Wyatt plopped a tamale onto Dorothy’s plate, and Adler carried two plates to a blanket on the lawn while Violet carried Timmy.
“Did you know ‘Paxton’ means ‘town of peace’?” Leah said.
“Mm-hmm. Now it’s finally true.” Clay gave her a little kiss, then nuzzled in her hair and took in the sight of his family. All together, all determined, all forgiving, and all forgiven.
The time for peace had come.
Letter to the Reader
Dear Reader,
On a cool and blustery summer day in 2007, my family visited Pointe du Hoc in Normandy, France. Our young children ran whooping through the giant craters, and my husband and I stared down the sheer cliffs in awe, picturing the men of the US 2nd Ranger Battalion climbing under German fire. Clay’s story began to form on that day.
The 2nd Ranger Battalion was a real unit, and the details of their training and combat were drawn from the historical record. While Clay and the men in his platoon are entirely fictional characters, many of the real Rangers appear in this story—Lt. Col. James Earl Rudder, Capt. Walter Block, Capt. Dean Knudson, Lt. James Eikner, 1st Sgt. Leonard “Len” Lomell, and Staff Sgt. Jack Kuhn.
Companies D, E, and F of the 2nd Ranger Battalion became legendary on D-day when they climbed the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, found and disabled the guns, and fended off counterattacks for two full days until relieved on June 8. The remaining three companies, plus the 5th Ranger Battalion, fought horrific battles on Omaha Beach, where Brig. Gen. Norman Cota gave the command that later became the Ranger motto—“Rangers, lead the way!”
I hope you enjoyed some of the details on pregnancy and baby care in the early 1940s. I found several “Mother’s Books” from the era, which were fascinating and slightly scary in parts (daily sunbaths for infants, anyone?). While official advice has changed—and will continue to change—the love of a mother for her child remains through all generations.
In Tullahoma, all locations and businesses are real, with the exception of the fictional Coffee Children’s Home and the characters’ homes, but all townspeople are entirely fictional.
One “too coincidental to be real but really happened” moment occurred in the story. The 2nd Ranger Battalion and the US 357th Fighter Group actually sailed to Britain on the same ship on the same day. When history hands you something like that on a platter, you take it.
I hope you enjoyed reading about D-day on the ground. If you missed the first two books in the series, please join Wyatt at sea in The Sea Before Us (2018) and Adler in the air in The Sky Above Us (2019).
If you’re on Pinterest, please visit my board for The Land Beneath Us to see pictures of Tullahoma, England, Pointe du Hoc, Rangers, 1940s libraries, 1940s maternity and baby wear, and other inspiration for the story.