“Out of the way! Medical emergency!” Clay had never run so fast, and he’d never been so thankful for log drills and daily runs and marches with full combat gear. Thank goodness Leah didn’t weigh any more than that gear.

He turned down the road to the hospital, breathing hard but evenly. Leah never cried out, but occasional moans meant she was still conscious. Lord, help me. Don’t let her die.

The hospital at last, a complex of long, low buildings, and Clay ran to the admissions building and kicked hard on the door. “Help! Medical emergency!”

A nurse opened the door and gasped.

Clay strode in, panting. “Get a stretcher.”

“My stars.” The nurse darted to a hallway. “Doctor Reeves! Emergency!”

A physician in his thirties ran out and stared at Clay and Leah. “What happened?”

“Her name’s Leah Jones. Eighteen-year-old female, assaulted, knife wound to the upper right chest below the clavicle, dislocated left shoulder, probably raped.”

“Prep the OR,” the physician said to the nurse, then addressed another nurse behind him. “Call the military police.”

Medics arrived with a stretcher, and Clay laid Leah on it.

Her head lolled to the side, her eyes shut and her mouth open.

Clay collapsed to his knees. Two years ago, he hadn’t been able to save Adler’s fiancée, Oralee. Please, Lord. Let Leah live.

7

CAMP FORREST HOSPITAL
TUESDAY, JULY 13, 1943

“‘Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.’” Mrs. Bellamy laid the book in her lap and frowned at Leah. “Are you sure Jane Eyre is the best book for you?”

“It is.” From her bed in the Camp Forrest Hospital women’s ward, Leah smiled at the Red Cross volunteer in her gray uniform dress. The muscles in Leah’s face didn’t hurt, but her voice came out weak. “As dreary as it can be, Jane Eyre is a story of hope and fortitude.”

“All right.” Mrs. Bellamy was so pleasant to look at, a plump woman in her thirties with light brown hair in smooth rolls about her sweet face. “That’s enough for today, Miss Jones. I don’t want to tire you.”

“Thank you for reading to me. I miss books.”

Mrs. Bellamy tilted her head with a curious look that transformed into a smile.

Leah had only been in the hospital for five days, but if it weren’t for the volunteer, she wouldn’t be able to read at all. Her left arm was bound in a sling, and the knife wound and surgery had affected muscles she needed to move her right arm.

Mrs. Bellamy stood. “I’ll come back tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Please. It’s a comfort.”