The volunteer’s face buckled, and she laid a warm hand on Leah’s. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but every day you’re going to feel better. I won’t lie and say your life will return to normal. Everything has changed, but you can come out stronger for it.”

“With the Lord’s help, I will.” Leah forced the words out, words she knew to be true, words she clung to when brutal memories darkened her mind.

Mrs. Bellamy blinked rapidly, squeezed Leah’s hand, and wheeled her cart of books and magazines to the next patient’s bed.

The Lord would indeed help Leah through this as he’d helped her all along. Hadn’t he sent Clay Paxton to save her life?

The instant the wolf had laid the knife on the floor beside her head, she knew he’d planned to kill her when he was done. Since he hadn’t used the knife in his initial attack or to threaten her to keep silent, the knife could only serve one purpose.

Leah’s thoughts careened. Her breath came fast and hard. She stared at the bare wooden ceiling and willed her breathing and her mind to calm. The Lord had been with her. The Lord would continue to be with her.

“Excuse me, Miss Jones?” Lieutenant Glassman, the ward nurse, stood at the foot of Leah’s bed. “Are you up for a visitor?”

Leah tried to sit up. Pain shot through her chest, and she winced and lay back down.

She’d only had three visitors. Darlene had made two short, cheery visits on her way to work. Miss Mayhew had visited the day after surgery, when Leah had been groggy. The librarian had voiced concern and shock and had asked Dr. Reeves how long until Leah could return to work. A month, and Miss Mayhew had not looked pleased.

That day, the military police had questioned Leah, but she’d had so little to tell them. Khaki uniform with no insignia. Dark hair below the cap. He’d only spoken one sentence, with a Midwestern accent. The MPs kept questioning the man’s accent and skin color. Was she absolutely certain the man was white and not Negro? Yes, she was. Any hint of a foreign accent or smell or manner, as if a German prisoner of war had slipped out of the enclosure and slipped back in? No, none.

“I’ll tell him to come back later,” the nurse said.

“I’m sorry. Who is it?”

“The man who brought you in the other day.” A conspiratorial look flashed in her brown eyes. “Honestly, we all thought he’d attacked you—you know his kind—but the MPs cleared him.”

Light and air filled her chest. “He saved my life. Yes, I want to see him very much.”

“All right.” The nurse shrugged and walked away.