The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,18
back outside. Two medics were loading the injured man onto a stretcher.
Clay fastened the pouch for his first aid kit. The urge to heal was strong, but he had to suppress it for the greater good.
The company fell into formation and marched back to camp double time for lunch. In the afternoon they’d have lectures and demonstrations on demolitions and booby traps.
G. M. marched beside Clay on the dirt road while cicadas hummed in the grass and scrub oak. “Going to the hospital again tonight?”
“If I can.”
“Sounds like a date.” Gene’s grin spread wide and goofy. “Mark my words. You’re going to join the ranks of us married men.”
Clay whistled. He still couldn’t believe Gene was getting married on Saturday. His friend had never been happier, but how many of these rushed wartime marriages would last?
“So . . . ?” Gene turned the full goofiness to Clay.
“So what? She’s like a little sister.” Clay swatted away a cloud of red dust.
Gene swatted too. “I’ve got a little sister, and I don’t treat her that nice.”
“You’re a bad brother.”
Now Gene swatted Clay. “I’m a great brother, but I don’t play violin for her.”
Clay had borrowed a violin from the service club, and when the nurse allowed it, he played classical music and American folk songs for the ladies on the ward.
He avoided mariachi tunes to keep the memories of playing with his brothers at bay. The Gringo Mariachis—stupid name for a group. Clay was only half gringo.
“You’re over there almost every evening.”
Clay shrugged. “She doesn’t have any family, and she hasn’t been in Tennessee long enough to make friends. She’s lonely and bored.”
“I bet she loves your visits.” Gene stretched out the word love so long no one could miss his meaning.
But Clay pretended to. “I reckon she enjoys them.”
At the front of the formation, someone began singing “Don’t Sit under the Apple Tree,” and Clay joined in to shut down conversation.
Leah always brightened when Clay visited, but not in an infatuated sort of way. Clay felt bad for her. He played for her and read to her. Now that she could sit up and use her arms, he brought magazines and books.
Her improving health did his heart good. She’d looked so pale and weak on his first visit, determined to be cheerful but obviously shaken.
Over time she was regaining color, and her cheer seemed less forced.
For such a young and tiny thing, she had strength at her core. She was going to be all right.
9
CAMP FORREST HOSPITAL
SATURDAY, JULY 31, 1943
Rita Sue Bellamy set her hands on her well-padded hips and gave Leah a mock glare. “You don’t even need me anymore, sugar.”
From her bedside chair, Leah smiled up at the Red Cross volunteer and closed The Valley of Decision. “Books are wonderful, but you’re even better company.”
Rita Sue chuckled and sat on the bed. “You’ve stolen my chair as well.”
“I have, and I’m going on walks around the hospital grounds.” Leah set the book on the nightstand beside another box of candy from Clay. “How are the children?”
“Enjoying their summer vacation. Luella and Sally make about a dozen mud pies a day—and throw them at Joey.”
Leah laughed. “They sound delightful.”
“Would you like to meet them?”
“Oh yes.” The only thing Leah missed about the orphanage was the little children.
Rita Sue smoothed the skirt of her button-front Red Cross dress. “Mercer and I would love to have you over for dinner after church when you’re discharged.”
“I’d love that.” With Rita Sue, Leah didn’t feel odd, despite the age difference.
Darlene was a good friend and had visited Leah in the hospital several times, but Darlene didn’t truly understand Leah. And Leah didn’t truly understand Darlene.
“Excuse me?” Myra Mayhew stood at the foot of the bed.
“Oh! Good afternoon, Miss Mayhew.” Leah pushed to standing.
“No, no.” The librarian waved her hand. “Please sit.”
Leah eased back down.
Rita Sue stood. “I’ll come back later, sugar.”
“Thank you.” Leah smiled at her, then at Miss Mayhew. The librarian wore a smart silver-gray suit and a matching little hat, and Leah stroked her blue pajama trousers as if she could transform them into her sage green suit.
“I’m glad to see you looking so well,” Miss Mayhew said.
“I feel much better, thank you. I can’t wait to return to work. I’m sure you must be busy.”
“I am.” She sighed. “The Army sent two soldiers to help, but they’re—well, one is practically illiterate.”
“Oh my.”
“Do you know . . .” Her brow wrinkled. “Do you know when you can return to work?”