The Land Beneath Us by Sarah Sundin

Author:Sarah Sundin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance;Love stories;Historical fiction;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027200
ISBN: 9781493421299
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2019-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

28

SWANAGE, DORSET, ENGLAND

MONDAY, APRIL 17, 1944

“Mail call!”

Silence fell over the mess hall. As hungry as Clay was after a day of training, he craved letters more than food.

Names rang out, and Rangers got up from benches. A week earlier, three of the six assault companies had transferred to Swanage on the south coast between Weymouth and Southampton. The other three companies remained at the British Assault Training School in Braunton, not far from Bude. Clay had enjoyed his week at Braunton, which had focused on taking out fortified positions. Like the pillbox in his recurring dream.

“Paxton!”

Clay forked the last bite of mutton into his mouth and retrieved an envelope addressed in Daddy’s strong script. He worked his finger under the lip and headed back to his seat.

“Paxton!”

Two in one day. He grinned and reversed course. A smaller envelope this time—a cablegram. From Tennessee!

Clay ripped it open. “HELEN MARGARITA PAXTON BORN APRIL 12 STOP 7 POUNDS STOP MOTHER AND BABY WELL STOP YOURS LEAH.”

He whooped. “It’s a girl! I’m a daddy!”

Clay laughed and read each word again. Of course it was a girl. Hadn’t Leah known from the start? His funny mystical bride.

His pals crowded around, congratulating him.

“Too bad our rations don’t come with cigars,” Ruby said.

McKillop waved him off. “Pax doesn’t smoke anyway.”

Gene slapped him on the back. “Good job, old man.”

“Helen Margarita Paxton,” Clay murmured. Leah’s Greek heritage, Clay’s Mexican heritage, and Clay’s white heritage, all wrapped up in one fine name.

His friends occupied themselves with mail and meals.

Clay leaned back against the stone wall in the mess hall of the school where the Rangers were billeted, and he studied Leah’s message. He’d met his goal and lived long enough to hear the news.

Why did it feel insufficient?

He wanted a picture. He wanted to see that baby. He wanted to drop everything and fly across the Atlantic to the two of them. Forget D-day. Forget the dream.

Clay sighed. He’d feared this would happen. His resolve was weakening, his desire lessening. The dream still came at least once a week, increasing in intensity. The end was coming, but now the thought filled him with sadness rather than joy.

His dinner finished, Clay turned in his tray and headed outside to read Daddy’s letter.

It was still light out, thanks to Britain’s wartime double summertime. The school perched on a cliff overlooking the bay, and silvery clouds stretched in ribbons over the water.

Clay sat cross-legged on the sparse grass and opened the letter, written well before the baby’s birth.

Dear Clay,

I have good news. Wyatt wrote home! Finally, we’ve heard from one of our prodigals, and your mother and I couldn’t be happier. He’s alive and well and serving as a naval officer on the same island you are.

He wants you to know he’s sorry he stole your money. He meant to pay you back that summer, but he made a bad investment and lost it all. That’s why he joined the Navy—so he could earn money to pay you back. He’ll send the check soon and write you at that time.

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