To his left, Sid Rubenstein set up a tubular steel ladder and climbed it. Bob Holman passed Ruby another section to add to the top.

The Rangers had learned every possible way to climb a cliff. No matter what obstacles they found on D-day, they would conquer them.

Near the top Clay readied his rifle, and he scrambled over the edge.

One hundred feet ahead lay two concrete pillboxes, smoke streaming out of the gun slits. An earlier platoon had already secured the primary objective, so Clay gathered the other four men in his rifle squad and jogged to the road, the next objective. They were to proceed to Combe Point at the mouth of the Dart River, and then to Dartmouth.

On the road the squads formed into sections, the sections into platoons, and they marched.

“Hope D-day is this easy,” Gene said with a grin.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Clay eyed the trees and stone walls, but no Germans would pop out today. Not even an Englishman. All the civilians had been evacuated from the region so the GIs could practice.

South Devon had been chosen for its resemblance to their objective on the far shore, wherever it might be. Whenever it might be.

Clay figured he had a week or two left on earth. A week or two to write those letters and fully forgive.

Leah’s words scrolled through his head, and he pulled her letter from his pocket, the letter that had arrived before they boarded the transport. It felt strange knowing his parents were in Tullahoma with her and the baby, two disconnected parts of his life joining—as he’d hoped they would. Obviously, they’d been talking about him.

Clay darted his gaze between the road, the Rangers, and the stationery.

I pray constantly that you’ll completely forgive your brothers. This is for your own good, so you’ll be at peace knowing you’ve done right by them. This is for Wyatt and Adler, so they can rest in the knowledge of your forgiveness and love. Despite all that’s happened, I know you love them dearly.

This is for your parents, who love all three of you and long for you to forgive each other. Please remember your parents’ love for Wyatt and Adler doesn’t diminish their love for you. It never has, and it never will.

This is also for the sake of your family as a whole. Clay, you alone hold the key to restoration and peace. Your parents have forgiven your brothers, and they say Wyatt and Adler have forgiven each other. That leaves you, my sweet husband.

My sweet wife. What wisdom, written with assurance. What compassion—for Clay, for his parents, and for the brothers-in-law she’d never met and had heard nothing good about.