BooksBarbecue
Back The Land Beneath Us Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Endorsements
  3. Books by Sarah Sundin
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Presidential Radio Broadcast
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. Discussion Questions
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

As much as he loved tamales, he had something better in mind. Despite Leah’s height, Clay had no trouble picking her out. She crossed the stream of the crowd, her face glowing just for him.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She hugged him tight.

Clay pressed a kiss to her soft curls.

Leah tipped up her face, her glistening eyelashes the only hint of tears. “I love you so much.”

He enjoyed this game they played. “Not as much as I love you.”

“I love you more than libraries.”

“Ah, you always say that.” He smacked her on the lips. “I love you more than—”

“I love you more than all the books in all the libraries in all the world.”

Clay’s words evaporated, and he swallowed at the radiance of her gaze. “That’s a whole lot.”

She pressed up on her toes for a kiss.

He whipped off his sombrero, held it as a shield from busybodies, and kissed her soundly. No book, no library could express the wonder and passion and joy he felt for his wife. Thank goodness she gladly accepted kisses in lieu of poetry.

She pulled away, plucked his sombrero out of his hand, and set it back on his head. “There. Very handsome.”

Clay eyed the second-floor window of their bedroom. Maybe no one would miss them . . .

Leah snuggled up. “Oh, Clay, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” He rocked her in a circle until he could no longer see that tempting window.

“Even with all the mariachi music, I can only think of ‘Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.’”

“Why is that, my little poetess?” How he loved her musings.

“The third verse. ‘Hail the heav’n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings.’ That’s what the Lord has done in our lives, in our family—light, life, healing, peace.”

“So true.” Across the lawn, Daddy and Mama were directing people in line, Wyatt plopped a tamale onto Dorothy’s plate, and Adler carried two plates to a blanket on the lawn while Violet carried Timmy.

“Did you know ‘Paxton’ means ‘town of peace’?” Leah said.

“Mm-hmm. Now it’s finally true.” Clay gave her a little kiss, then nuzzled in her hair and took in the sight of his family. All together, all determined, all forgiving, and all forgiven.

The time for peace had come.

Letter to the Reader

Dear Reader,

On a cool and blustery summer day in 2007, my family visited Pointe du Hoc in Normandy, France. Our young children ran whooping through the giant craters, and my husband and I stared down the sheer cliffs in awe, picturing the men of the US 2nd Ranger Battalion climbing under German fire. Clay’s story began to form on that day.