The Land Beneath Us (Sunrise at Normandy #3) - Sarah Sundin Page 0,98

home?”

“He’s at work.” Her eyes narrowed—in suspicion? “I’m his wife. May I help you?”

“Yes, please.” Leah shone her brightest smile and held out the postcard. “I’m returning a postcard addressed to him.”

“A postcard?” She didn’t take it.

“Yes, ma’am. Did you donate a set of encyclopedias to the Victory Book Campaign?”

“Why, yes.” Mrs. Mason’s posture relaxed.

“Thank you so much. The campaign wasn’t able to use the books, so we donated them to the Coffee Children’s Home. The children love having their own encyclopedia set. It’s so much easier for them to do homework.”

Thin lips curved in a pleasant smile. “I never would have thought of that. How wonderful.”

“A child found this postcard tucked inside. I must confess I took it home because it’s beautiful and reminded me of my childhood. But it doesn’t belong to me, so I’m returning it.”

She frowned and took Leah’s offering. “It’s only a postcard.”

“But it belongs to your husband.”

Mrs. Mason smiled at the back. “From Ricky. Oh my. Richard—he’s my husband’s little brother. He hasn’t gone by Ricky for years. This must have been from his gallivanting days.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a fond memory for your husband.”

She laughed, bright as the colors on the postcard. “I’m sure he won’t remember, but thank you. I’m sorry, you told me your name and I don’t recall it. We haven’t met before.”

“Mrs. Clay Paxton—Leah. I’m fairly new to town.”

“I can tell from your accent.” Her smile continued to grow in warmth. “Thank you. This was right kind of you.”

Leah said her good-byes and departed, a warm rain pattering on her umbrella. As much pleasure as the postcard had given her, she’d received greater pleasure returning it, releasing what had never belonged to her.

Tonight she’d take the final step in releasing what did belong to her—her sisters. Leah planned to write Mrs. Scholz, letting her know she would respect her wishes and never contact Callie and Polly. She would record information about her parents, enclose a photo of herself with Helen, and include the Paxtons’ address as well as hers. If the Scholzes should ever change their minds or the girls should raise questions, they were free to contact her. But she would never intrude.

Leah rounded the corner onto Moore Street. She would thank the Scholz family for giving her sisters a loving home, and she’d say it was enough to know her sisters were healthy, happy, and together.

It was indeed enough. Leah had the family the Lord had given her, and she’d received the extra gifts of her family history and of witnessing her sisters’ happiness.

She had so much more than when she’d arrived in Tullahoma. A year ago to the day, she’d started her job at Camp Forrest. And she’d met Clay.

She breathed out another prayer for the man she loved, set her umbrella on the porch of the Bellamy home, and entered. “Rita Sue? I’m back. Thank you for watching the baby so I didn’t have to take her out in the rain.”

“Always a joy,” Rita Sue called from the kitchen. “Let’s sit a spell.”

“Maybe this afternoon.” Leah knelt by the blanket on the rug where Helen lay, playing with her fingers. “Hi, sweetie. Let’s go home so Mama can do laundry.”

“What’s the hurry?” Rita Sue entered the living room. “You can’t hang out your washing in this weather.”

A stiffness in her friend’s movements and a strain in her voice niggled inside Leah. “Is something wrong?”

Rita Sue sat on the couch and patted the cushion. “Come sit down, sugar.”

Something was wrong, and Leah’s blood stilled, her hands firm around her baby’s warm middle. “A telegram.”

A twitch of the eye confirmed the truth. “Please sit down, sugar.”

Leah felt as if she were spinning, rising, looking down on the whole nation. Hundreds, thousands of telegrams were being delivered. Hundreds, thousands of lives were being shattered. Leah wasn’t special. If anything, Leah was better prepared for this moment.

Then her vision narrowed and spun back to earth, to the only soldier who mattered to her. “Clay . . .”

“Come sit—”

Leah collapsed onto her backside and pulled her daughter to her chest. How could she bear this?

A rustle of movement, and Rita Sue knelt beside her and wrapped her arm around Leah’s shoulder. “The Western Union boy arrived while you were out. Now, don’t panic. We don’t know what’s inside.”

Leah did. She shifted Helen onto her lap, supported by her left arm, and she took the small envelope from her friend.

With numb fingers, she opened the envelope and removed the slip of