The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,29

know. Leave when the library closes and only with an MP escort.” While she had still been in the hospital, Clay had talked to Miss Mayhew about having a night guard. Since the wolf hadn’t been snared, Leah didn’t argue. She fought off a shudder.

“Are you—”

“Absolutely sure.” She injected her voice with conviction. “You’d better report for duty.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clay gave her a sharp salute. “I’ll see you later.”

She waved good-bye and headed toward the library.

While Clay remained in Tennessee, they needed to act like newlyweds. The lack of a good-bye kiss was appropriate on base, and his training schedule and her evening shifts would justify the lack of time together. Clay planned to put in frequent requests for leave, as a new husband would, and they might need to spend another weekend or two at the King Hotel for appearance’s sake.

Leah wouldn’t mind. After the initial awkwardness, their time together had been enjoyable and comfortable.

The door flew open, and Leah startled. How long had she paused on the threshold?

“Pardon me, miss.” A straw-haired soldier grinned at her and trotted down the stairs.

Not the wolf. Leah straightened her sage green suit jacket, entered the library, and inhaled.

Musk and onions and beer.

Her heart raced, and she slammed her eyes shut. No. She was safe. Safe. She breathed deeply until all she could smell was ink and ideas and imagination.

Bright lights banished the shadows, and she turned to the circulation desk. She angled her body so she couldn’t see the storage room, but her peripheral vision revealed the door was shut.

Thank goodness. Would she ever be able to enter that room again?

Her upper lip tingled, but she smiled for the librarian at the typewriter behind the desk. “Good afternoon, Miss Mayhew.”

The pretty brunette beamed at her. “I’m glad you’re back, Miss Jones. Are you feeling well?”

“I am.” Her fingers coiled around her purse strap. “Only my name isn’t Miss Jones anymore, but Mrs. Paxton.”

Miss Mayhew’s wrists drooped on the typewriter keys. “Mrs. . . . ?”

“Paxton. Mrs. Clay Paxton.” Her smile rose from the pleasure of bearing such a fine name. “The man who rescued me.”

“You . . . got married?”

“Yes, on Saturday.”

The librarian swiveled her chair, leaned her elbows on the desk, and massaged her temples. “You’ve been here less than two months, more than half that time in the hospital, and now you’re married.”

Leah winced. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought you wanted to go to library school.”

Grief swamped her, but she had to pretend she didn’t know she was pregnant and that her dream remained. “I do.”

Round and round went graceful fingers beside high cheekbones. “I never knew one married girl who graduated from library school. They had husbands to care for, then babies. They all dropped out. You should have thought this through more carefully.”

Leah had thought this through with exceptional care. She lifted a flimsy smile. “It all happened so fast.”

Miss Mayhew slipped cards inside pockets of new books, and she stacked the books with noise unsuited for a library.

Leah’s shoulders clenched. If she reacted like this to marriage, how would she react to pregnancy? Would she fire her on the spot? Leah had so little time to earn money, so little time to search the library for clues about her past.

“You might as well get to work. These have been cataloged and are ready to be shelved.” Miss Mayhew stood and passed the stack of books to Leah.

Pain wrenched through her shoulder and chest. She cried out, and the books tumbled. Loud thumps fired through the library. Chairs scraped over wood, and dozens of soldiers stood and stared.

Leah pressed her hands over the fire in her chest where she’d been stabbed. In this building. Only a month ago.

“Oh my stars. Miss Jones!” Miss Mayhew rushed from behind the desk. “I mean, Mrs. Paxton. Are you all right?”

Leah fought to catch her breath. “I guess I can’t carry that much weight yet.”

“Here. Have a seat.” Miss Mayhew guided her to a chair. “I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?”

“I’m fine.” Leah did her best to smile. “You were thinking I meant what I said, that I was ready to work.”

“Thoughtless of me.” She bustled behind the desk and pushed out the cart. “Use this and only when you’re ready. Please sit as long as you need.”

“Thank you.” She kept pressure on the wound as Clay had done that night.

Miss Mayhew knelt and picked up the books, straightening pages and closing covers. “I was rude and thoughtless. I didn’t stop to