The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,14
all right?”
She looked up at him, breathing hard and ragged, not a tear in her eyes.
“That’s a brave girl. Stay nice and calm.” He ripped off his shirt, buttons pinging onto the floor. “This is for a bandage. No need to worry.”
He yanked off his undershirt, rolled it into a ball, and pressed it firmly into the wound.
Leah moaned but barely stirred.
Clay held one shirtsleeve in each hand and whipped his shirt in a circle, rolling it into a bandage. He laid it across the wound, tossed one end over her left shoulder, and tucked the other under her right arm.
“I’m going to lift you to tie this.” He worked his arm behind her shoulders.
She cried out.
Her left arm lay at a crooked angle. That vermin had dislocated her shoulder, and Clay’s gut burned.
“I’ll be gentle, but I need to tie this so I can transport you.” He carefully draped her left arm across her stomach, and she groaned.
“That’s a good girl. You can do this.” He lifted her shoulders just enough to pass the bandage behind her, and he knotted it beside her neck on the left. “Bear with me. This may hurt, but we need to get you to the hospital.”
“I under . . . stand.” Her voice was faint.
He pulled her skirt down and arranged the remnants of her blouse to cover her somewhat, but her life was more important than her modesty.
Clay scooped her into his arms. “How are you doing?”
She nodded, her eyes unfocused.
No! He couldn’t let her bleed to death. “Stay with me, Leah.”
He strode through the library and kicked open the door. A jeep, a jeep. Why wasn’t there a jeep on the road when he needed one?
The hospital at Camp Forrest was about a mile away, and Clay took off running. The few soldiers on the sidewalk looked at him in alarm.
“Out of the way! Medical emergency!” Clay had never run so fast, and he’d never been so thankful for log drills and daily runs and marches with full combat gear. Thank goodness Leah didn’t weigh any more than that gear.
He turned down the road to the hospital, breathing hard but evenly. Leah never cried out, but occasional moans meant she was still conscious. Lord, help me. Don’t let her die.
The hospital at last, a complex of long, low buildings, and Clay ran to the admissions building and kicked hard on the door. “Help! Medical emergency!”
A nurse opened the door and gasped.
Clay strode in, panting. “Get a stretcher.”
“My stars.” The nurse darted to a hallway. “Doctor Reeves! Emergency!”
A physician in his thirties ran out and stared at Clay and Leah. “What happened?”
“Her name’s Leah Jones. Eighteen-year-old female, assaulted, knife wound to the upper right chest below the clavicle, dislocated left shoulder, probably raped.”
“Prep the OR,” the physician said to the nurse, then addressed another nurse behind him. “Call the military police.”
Medics arrived with a stretcher, and Clay laid Leah on it.
Her head lolled to the side, her eyes shut and her mouth open.
Clay collapsed to his knees. Two years ago, he hadn’t been able to save Adler’s fiancée, Oralee. Please, Lord. Let Leah live.
7
CAMP FORREST HOSPITAL
TUESDAY, JULY 13, 1943
“‘Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.’” Mrs. Bellamy laid the book in her lap and frowned at Leah. “Are you sure Jane Eyre is the best book for you?”
“It is.” From her bed in the Camp Forrest Hospital women’s ward, Leah smiled at the Red Cross volunteer in her gray uniform dress. The muscles in Leah’s face didn’t hurt, but her voice came out weak. “As dreary as it can be, Jane Eyre is a story of hope and fortitude.”
“All right.” Mrs. Bellamy was so pleasant to look at, a plump woman in her thirties with light brown hair in smooth rolls about her sweet face. “That’s enough for today, Miss Jones. I don’t want to tire you.”
“Thank you for reading to me. I miss books.”
Mrs. Bellamy tilted her head with a curious look that transformed into a smile.
Leah had only been in the hospital for five days, but if it weren’t for the volunteer, she wouldn’t be able to read at all. Her left arm was bound in a sling, and the knife wound and surgery had affected muscles she needed to move her right arm.
Mrs. Bellamy stood. “I’ll come back tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Please. It’s a comfort.”
The volunteer’s face buckled, and she laid a warm hand on Leah’s. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but