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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

The two graduate librarians laughed softly about something. Already they were colleagues. Leah had never been more than an assistant.

Grief pooled in Leah’s lungs. Miss Elliott was living the life Leah had wanted. It would never be hers, because she’d been orphaned and abandoned and assaulted.

Why did people like Miss Mayhew and Miss Elliott receive all the good things in life? Why did Leah receive all the bad things? Why did everyone mistreat her?

A flutter of kicks in her belly, and Leah drew a deep breath to calm down.

Clay didn’t mistreat her. And her original dream might have died, but a new one had formed—raising this sweet child and giving her a happy home.

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Leah walked at a fast clip down Moore Street under a moonless sky. At eleven o’clock, few lights shone from windows. An icy breeze wafted around her legs, and a bush beside her rustled.

Leah scooted away, her heart hammering. Every shadow, every noise made the scar on her chest throb.

An MP escorted her every night from the library to the bus stop at Camp Forrest. But no one escorted her the three long blocks from the bus stop to her home.

Was the wolf still out there? He’d wanted her dead, and he’d failed. Was he stationed at the base? Or had he shipped out with one of the many units that had trained at Camp Forrest?

The Bellamy house stood on the corner of Washington and Moore. In daytime, a cheery brick home. At night, dark and brooding. Leah inched into the backyard, watching for unfamiliar shapes in the victory garden and by the chicken coop.

Praying, she dashed to the little house. She thrust her key in the lock, flung open the door, turned on a lamp, and threw the deadbolt. She might be the only person in Tullahoma who kept her doors locked, day and night.

Leah sighed and leaned back against the door.

Everyone assumed Leah loved the privacy of her new little home, but she wasn’t used to sleeping in a room alone. In a house alone. With straw-thin doors and windows and walls that would succumb to one puff of the wolf’s foul breath.

She could still feel his darkness crushing her, pounding, ripping, humiliating.

“No. No.” Leah pressed her fists to her chest. “I’m home. I’m safe. The Lord is with me. The Lord is with me.”

When her heart rate finally settled down, she hung her hat and brown swing coat on the hook.

A flash of white on the linoleum—a letter! Rita Sue always slipped Leah’s mail under the door. Oh, how she needed a distraction. The airmail envelope edged by diagonal red and blue stripes signaled a letter from Clay.

“It’s from your daddy, baby girl.” Leah lowered herself to squatting and picked up the letter. The postmark read December 26, the same date as the cablegram.