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. He feels awful for what he’s done.

We’ve written back, telling him you’re in the Army and that Adler ran away, but we didn’t tell him what happened between you and Adler. That’s not our tale to tell.

Wyatt asked us not to give you his address right now, and we’ll honor that. We did send him your address so he can send his apology. We pray you’ll accept it, and we pray you two can meet overseas.