The Land Beneath Us

by Sarah Sundin

  “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?”

  The librarian seemed more concerned with staffing than with Leah’s welfare, but then she’d only known Leah for a short time. Still, it pricked her heart.

  Leah worked up a smile. “Dr. Reeves expects to discharge me from the hospital next week, and I should be able to return to work the following week. But he won’t make any promises until he’s sure I’m strong enough.”

  “Oh yes.” A smile lit up Miss Mayhew’s pretty face. “You must regain your strength.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the librarian departed, Leah reached for the latest box of candy from Clay. Her muscles strained in a good way, stretching and rebuilding the weak tissue.

  She opened the box and smiled at the licorice allsorts inside. So many jolly colors and stripes and sprinkles, and the anise scent felt clean and invigorating.

  Leah popped one into her mouth and chewed it slowly. The taste of coconut wasn’t one she favored, but she imagined a Hawaiian beach at sunset and ukulele music, and the taste fit.

  Would Clay visit tonight? Not only was he fine company, but the visits seemed to cheer him too, especially when the nurse let him play the violin. Then he’d stroll the ward and take requests. His music was so lively, so heartfelt, so touching, and it lifted everyone’s spirits.

  A dozen beds lined the long building, filled with women who worked at Camp Forrest or whose husbands served or worked there. Some had undergone surgery to remove appendices or tonsils or gallbladders, and some had been injured on the job or in car accidents.

  All were weak and all were bored, and Leah was glad her friend could bring some joy.

  Despite the teasing of some of the patients, Leah never thought of Clay as anything but a friend.

  His manner to her was kind and generous, but he never looked at her like the other patients’ husbands and boyfriends looked at them.

  Leah chewed on a licorice button, pale pink with sprinkles and a delicate flavor.

  The heroines in her favorite novels would have moped if such a splendid man saw them only as friends, but Leah didn’t. The thought of any man touching her where the wolf had touched her—well, it made her sweat and hyperventilate.

  Maybe it would be different if she were in love. It would. It had to. But she didn’t want to find out for a very long time.

  “Good day, Miss Jones.” Dr. Reeves came to the foot of the bed with a clipboard.

  “Hello, Dr. Reeves.” Leah gave him a curious look. It wasn’t time for rounds.

  He wore a solemn face.

  Leah’s breathing stalled.

  Dr. Reeves cleared his throat and looked at his clipboard. “I need to discuss a test result with you.”

  A test result?

  Her stomach constricted around the tiny bits of licorice. Such a grave expression could only mean bad news. What if it kept her away from the library much longer? Would she lose her job?

  What then? What would she do?

  Oh Lord. She clutched the box of candy. Please help me.

  10

  “I’m glad you’re here, Private.” The ward nurse met Clay at the door. “Miss Jones requested no visitors, but she couldn’t have meant you. She needs cheering up tonight.”

  What had happened? Clay glanced down the ward. Part of him wanted to rush to Leah’s bedside, and the other part wanted to honor her wishes and leave.

  Dr. Hill had taught him to respect patients’ privacy in order to maintain trust, but right now gnawing concern drove his feet down the aisle.

  Leah wasn’t reading in the chair as usual. She lay curled up in bed, clutching the blanket under her chin, staring at the empty bed beside her.

  Clay made his voice as soft as possible. “Leah?”

  She startled, glanced up at him, and closed her eyes. “I—I’m sorry. Would you mind? I don’t feel like talking.” Her face was as pale as on the night she’d almost bled to death.

  Clay lowered himself into the chair and set the violin case on the floor. “You don’t have to talk. I could read to you.”

  She shook her head and rolled over, away from him.

  Clay licked his lips. “I have the violin. I could play for you.”

  “No, thank you.”

  What was wrong? She hadn’t withdrawn after she’d been attacked, after she’d almost died. However, his curiosity gave way to compassion. “All right. I’ll sit here and pray for you, but I’m not leaving. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  Leah gasped and glanced back over her shoulder, brushing black curls off her face. “They told you?”

  “No one told me anything. The nurse just said you need
ed cheering up.”

  Leah’s head flopped down to the pillow. “It’s useless.”

  “Hey, now. Where’s the young lady who can find good in any situation?”

  “There is no good in this.”

  Clay sighed. “Give it time.”

  “This can never be good. Never.” Her voice choked.

  Everything in Clay wanted to force her to tell him what was wrong so he could heal it, but something deep inside restrained him, lowering his head and his eyelids. “Father in heaven, I don’t know what happened, but you do and you’re the only one who needs to know. Your child Leah is hurting. Please hold her tight and comfort her. Please—”

  Leah hauled in a loud breath, almost a sob. “I’m pregnant.”

  Clay’s eyes flew open. “Pardon?”

  “I—I’m going to have a baby.” She curled up even tighter.

  Clay’s mind whirled between shock at the news, fury at the man who did this to her, and aching concern for Leah.

  The last time he’d heard those words, he’d only felt fury and humiliation. Ellen Hill standing on his parents’ doorstep, her belly swollen with Adler’s child, begging to be taken in after her parents moved out of town and left her behind.

  But Leah . . . she was an innocent. She was only eighteen and had no family to care for her.

  “Oh, Leah. I’m so sorry. What are you . . . do you know what you’re going to do?”

  “I have to give her up.” She drew in a deep, rattling sigh. “Dr. Reeves and Mrs. Bellamy talked to me. If I kept the baby, I’d have to work to support her, but I don’t have anyone to watch her while I work. And I might not be able to find a job. People would question my—my virtue.”

  “That’s not fair.” Clay’s fists clenched. “He forced himself on you.”

  Leah rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “No one would ask how.”

  Clay pounded his fists on top of each other. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t true. But she was right. All people would see would be an unwed mother.

  She rubbed her forehead. “We’d have to live on charity, in poverty. I can’t—I won’t do that to her. Giving her up for adoption is her best chance.”

  He had to start thinking like a physician, not a friend. “It is. It’s for the best.”

  “I know. I know it is. But all I’ve ever wanted is a family, and now I have someone and I have to give her away.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and slammed her eyes shut.

  Clay’s gut seized. Not fair. Not right. “I’m so sorry.”

  Leah cupped her free hand over her belly and pulled in a long breath. “It’s for the best. Dr. Reeves told me of a home for unwed mothers. I’ll go there when I start to show and I—I lose my job.”

  That too? Clay winced. She’d lose her job on top of everything else?

  “After the baby is born, they’ll find a home for her.” Leah’s face twisted. “But what if they’re like the Joneses and beat her, or what if they can’t find a home and they—they put her in an orphanage?”

  He ached for her distress. “I’m sure they’ll find a good home.”

  “I’ll never see her again, just like my sisters. They said I wouldn’t want to see her, that she’d only remind me of that man, but I know she wouldn’t. I know I’ll love her. I’ll always love her.”

  Clay’s chest collapsed. Leah already loved that child. The way she shielded her belly with her hand. The way she’d already decided it was a girl. Whether or not she ever saw her baby, she would always love her and she would always mourn.

  Half a dozen platitudes flitted in his head, and he shot them all down. Time would never fully heal this wound. God would work some good out of this, but not the good Leah wanted.

  She had to choose between giving up her baby and raising that baby in poverty and disgrace. No matter what she did, she’d lose her job and she’d probably lose her chance to attend library school.

  The rapist had stolen her future as surely as Wyatt and Adler had stolen Clay’s, and his hands and jaw set like stone.

  “You can leave now.” Leah rolled her head on the pillow and lifted a faint smile to him. “There’s nothing to say, and that’s all right. I understand.”

  If only he could fix this, but his medical kit lay empty. “I wish . . .”

  “It’s all right. Just pray. Please pray.”

  “I will.” He picked up the violin and stood. “I’ll visit tomorrow if I can.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, almost as serene as the day he’d met her.

  That smile made his gut twist harder than if she’d burst into tears.

  He strode out of the ward and into the hot humid night. Prayer was powerful. It was. But what about that verse in the book of James? If someone was naked and hungry, it was worthless to tell her to depart in peace and be warm and filled.

  Sometimes a man needed to offer a blanket, a hot meal, or a bandage.

  “Lord!” Clay stopped on the concrete path between the long narrow hospital buildings, and he raised his face and his voice to the starry sky. “I only have a hundred bucks or so. I have nothing to give her, nothing but my name.”

  And the stars brightened, and light poured through them into his eyes and his mind.

  His name.

  The pinpoints of light coalesced into a beam, illuminating his path with utter clarity, every step marked and sure to the very end.

  No, he needed to think about this. He pressed his hand over his eyes to block the light, to think clearly, but the light chased down every objection and turned every dark spot bright. In any other circumstances, the idea would be crazy. But in his circumstance—in hers—nothing could be more logical.

  Clay spun back to the women’s surgical ward, and he marched, then jogged, then ran. Up the stairs, through the door, past startled nurses, to the foot of Leah’s bed, breathing hard.

  She frowned up at him.

  The light couldn’t contain itself, and he opened his mouth. “Marry me.”

  Leah shook her head a bit. “What?”

  “Hear me out.” He set the violin on the chair and paced beside her bed, each step of his feet imprinting the steps of his life. “It’s all so clear. I was telling God I had nothing to offer you but my name—and that’s the best thing I could give you. Marry me, and you take my name with all the rights and privileges attached to it.”

  She stared at him, slack jawed, and she scooted up to sitting. “Clay? That—that’s crazy.”

  He held out both hands as if he held his name in a gift box. “No, it’s perfect. Marry me, and you can keep your baby.”

  “Keep . . . ? No. I already decided to give her up. I know it’s the right thing to do.”

  “This is better. Think about it. I told you about my dream, how I know I’m going to die soon.”

  “Clay—”

  “Hear me out. Please.” He couldn’t stop pacing. “That dream frees us to marry. Frees us.”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  Clay had to make her see. “While I’m alive, you’ll receive an allotment as my wife. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to support you and the baby. You won’t have to work. You won’t have to find someone to watch the baby.”

  Leah pressed both hands to her cheeks and lowered her chin, shaking her head. But she didn’t cover her ears.

  Clay took a step closer. “When I die, you’ll receive my GI life insurance. Ten thousand dollars. That’s—”

  “No!” She jerked her head up. “Ten thou—Clay, that should go to your family.”

  He grinned. “Don’t you see? Marry me, and you’ll be my family, you and the baby. That much money will keep you going five, six years. By then she’ll be in school and you can work. Or you can marry again, of course. You’re set for life.”

  She clutched the blanket in a tight roll across her lap, her lips pressed together. “What if you live?”

  “I won’t.”

  “What if you do?” She raised stricken eyes to him. “I believe you
about the dream, but what if you are wrong? What if you live—and I hope you do, I really do. What then? You’d be burdened with a wife you didn’t love.”

  And she’d be burdened with a husband she didn’t love.

  Clay groaned and clamped one hand around the back of his neck. He wasn’t going to survive, but he had to pacify her. “All right then. If I survive—but I know I won’t—then we’ll get divorced. I—I’ll say I met someone else and cheated on you, so you can divorce me. I’ll still provide for you.”

  “How can you say that?” Sparks flashed in those brown eyes. “How can you treat marriage so lightly? Marriage is a sacred bond, a promise before God and man.”

  This was going horribly wrong. He stared at the ceiling and sighed. “I’m not. I promise I’m not. But I know that isn’t going to happen. I know beyond a doubt that I’m going to die.”

  “I don’t like it at all. It’s an awful reason to get married.”

  “Is it?” He lowered his gaze to her. “One of the reasons God created marriage was to care for mothers and children. That’s what I want to do. I want to care for you and your baby. I want you to raise that baby yourself as you should.”

  Leah wrapped her arms around her middle and lowered her chin.

  At last he was getting through to her. “Your baby will have a name and a father. I’ll be her father. I’ll gladly call her my own. She’ll never have to know who her real father is. She’ll never have to be ashamed. You’ll always be able to show her my picture and say, ‘There’s your daddy, the war hero.’”

  Her shoulders hunched up.

  The baby’s real father . . . another thought seized him. “Listen, we won’t live together, so you don’t have to worry about any of . . . of that. I have to live on base, and we’re shipping out soon. I won’t—I’ll never touch you. Not like . . .”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like the idea.”

  “I do. Can’t you see this is the best way?” He squatted beside her. “You said you couldn’t see any good in this, but I do. I see great good. You can raise that little baby and have a family. No disgrace. No poverty.”

  Leah pressed her hand over her eyes. “No poverty? Only because of charity. I won’t take your charity. I promised myself I’d never accept charity again. I won’t.”