Mrs. Paxton frowned at her. “The key?”

“Clay is the key.” Leah stroked the warm gold of her wedding ring. “His forgiveness is the key to restoring your family.”

“Our family.” Mrs. Paxton squeezed Leah’s hand.

Mr. Paxton chuckled. “You’re in this mess too, young lady.”

Leah smiled, even though she was only in the family temporarily. But for whatever time she had, she’d fight for them and with them. “I am indeed.”

30

LYME BAY OFF BLACKPOOL BEACH, SOUTH DEVON, ENGLAND
THURSDAY, MAY 4, 1944

Clay stood at the bow ramp in the British Landing Craft Assault as the little LCA chugged across Lyme Bay.

Eager anticipation rippled among the twenty-one men—two of the three sections in Clay’s platoon. Exercise Fabius was a full-scale dress rehearsal for D-day, so realistic that when his company had boarded their British transport, the Ben-my-Chree, in Weymouth, half the men were convinced it was the real deal.

Live naval shells flew overhead, shredding the gray morning sky and leaving concussion trails along the water.

Lyme Bay teemed with vessels—the landing craft speeding to shore, the hulking transports farther out to sea, and the destroyers and cruisers belching fire and smoke and shells.

Was Wyatt on one of those ships? Clay shook his head and focused on the mission, on the green land before him, the golden crescent of Blackpool Beach, and the cliff beyond, the objective of D, E, and F Companies.

Two miles south at Slapton Sands, the other three companies of 2nd Battalion and the entire 5th Ranger Battalion were landing with the 29th and 1st Infantry Divisions. “Twenty-five thousand men,” he murmured, his voice lost in the noise of shelling and boat engines.

The largest amphibious training exercise ever, the brass said.

Four fighter planes zoomed overhead, P-47 Thunderbolts of the US Ninth Air Force.

Not Adler’s planes.

Clay squirmed in his field jacket. Daddy’s letter about Adler had arrived a few days earlier, and Clay was digesting it.

Adler felt deep remorse, Daddy said, not just for his sins, but for how he hurt everyone. All torn up inside, and he wanted to write Clay an apology. Well, good.

Daddy hadn’t given Adler’s address to Clay because he wanted his own letter to arrive first. He and Mama were figuring out how and what to tell their middle son. Adler didn’t know he was a father, and he didn’t know Ellen was dead. It’d be hard on him.

Fine. Clay had dealt with the consequences of Adler’s sins for three years. About time Adler dealt with them too.

He hated feeling vindictive again, just when he was making progress, but Daddy’s letter had ripped the scab right off the wound.