Seated in the chaplain’s office in Camp Forrest’s main chapel, Leah fingered the smooth fabric of the cream-colored suit the girls in the boardinghouse had given her as a wedding present. “I’ve never known a finer man.”

“You’ve never known any man.”

“Now, now.” Rita Sue Bellamy handed Leah a bouquet of creamy roses. “I think it’s romantic. Clay saved her life and visited her almost every day in the hospital. It’s no surprise to me or to anyone on the ward.”

“Thank you.” Leah inhaled the heady floral fragrance. Only Clay, Rita Sue, and her doctors and nurses knew she’d been violated during the attack, and only they knew about her pregnancy. That was how it needed to stay so that everyone would believe Clay was the father.

A soldier peeked into the office. “Excuse me. Are you ready, Miss Jones?”

“I am.” Today she’d lose the name of Jones, which always reminded her she was unwanted and unloved. Clay didn’t love her, but he cared for her and he did want to marry her.

Leah stood slowly, still a bit weak and lightheaded.

“I’ll go sit with my family.” Rita Sue pressed a kiss to Leah’s veiled cheek. “You look ravishing.”

Leah didn’t know what to do with the compliment or the affection. “Thank you.”

After Rita Sue left, Darlene stepped close, her brow furrowed beneath her flower-strewn hat. “Are you sure, sugar? It isn’t too late to back out.”

“I’m sure.”

“You know Latins can be hot tempered, don’t you?”

“Oh, not Clay.”

Then Darlene giggled. “Of course, you’re also getting a Latin lover. That might make it all worthwhile.”

Leah felt ill, and not from the tiny life growing inside. Why did people assume things about Clay just because his skin was brown? More than one of the nurses had thought Clay was the rapist for that reason.

“It’s time,” the chaplain’s assistant said.

It was indeed. Leah and Darlene followed him into the foyer.

In a second, Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” resounded from the organ on the balcony overhead. Leah tightened her grip on her bouquet. This was happening to her. To her?

The chaplain’s assistant beckoned, and Darlene sashayed down the aisle.

Behind her bouquet, Leah pressed her hand to her belly. By marrying Clay, Leah could give her baby a home with her own mother and the name of a good father. For you, little girl.

Somehow she knew the baby was a girl. If a boy was born, she’d love him as dearly, but she was a girl and her name was Helen. The name meant light, because this child was light shining from Leah’s darkest days.

The chaplain’s assistant nodded to her.