12

Clay scraped the last bit of fluffy white frosting off his plate. “Thank you for organizing this reception.”

“You know our motto—the Red Cross is at your side. In this case, it was pure joy.” Mrs. Bellamy sipped a cup of coffee. “President Roosevelt was most obliging, putting an end to coffee rationing last week.”

A little blonde girl hid behind Mrs. Bellamy, peeking at Clay with a mischievous smile.

Clay returned it full force. He missed Mama’s big Ramirez clan and all the little cousins. “The cake is delicious.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Bellamy giggled. “You should have heard the ladies at church grumble when I asked them to give up their sugar rations for yet another wedding here at Camp Forrest. Then I told them Leah was an orphan and didn’t have a mama to bake for her. Well, you should have seen those sugar crocks fly open.”

“Thank them from me. Leah hasn’t had a lot of nice things in life.” He glanced behind him. The Rangers flirted with the boardinghouse girls, especially with Darlene, who worked at the PX nearest the Rangers’ barracks.

Leah sat at a table chatting with Gene and his girlfriend—no, his wife, Betty Jo.

Good to see that Leah was sitting down and had cleaned her plate. She looked pretty in that creamy suit and hat, with her hair pinned up in rolls and curls and things. Real grown up.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Mrs. Bellamy said.

“She sure is.” He felt tiny arms around his knees. The little girl sat on his foot and grinned up at him, a yellow bow around her ringlets.

“Sally Bellamy!” her mother said.

“I don’t mind.” Clay lifted his leg with the giggling child attached. “I need my daily calisthenics.”

Mrs. Bellamy sipped her coffee and smiled at her daughter and then at Clay. “You take good care of Miss Leah, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I married her.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s time for you to spirit your bride away.”

His bride? Yes, Leah. She was laughing at something Betty Jo said, color in her cheeks again, thank goodness.

Mrs. Bellamy whisked Sally onto her hip. “Private Paxton has to leave now, sugar pie.”

“Bye, Pwivate Paxton.” Sally pressed a hand to her forehead in a salute.

Clay snapped up his best salute for her. “Good day, Miss Bellamy. And Mrs. Bellamy, thank you again for everything you’ve done.”

“My pleasure.”

The Red Cross had even secured dinner and room reservations at the swanky King Hotel in Tullahoma. Clay would sleep on the floor, but he wanted to give folks every reason to believe that he was the father of Leah’s child.

Clay crossed the room and offered Leah his hand. “Ready to leave, Mrs. Paxton?”

She looked pleasantly surprised, and she laid her hand in his. “I am.”

G. M. stood and cupped his hand around his mouth. “All right, everyone. Time to send off the newlyweds.”

Darlene handed Leah a suitcase and winked at her. “Don’t come home too soon, you hear?”

Leah dipped her head as if studying the suitcase handle.

Clay had better get her out before double entendres started flying. He led Leah to the door, picked up his haversack, and faced the guests. “Thanks for everything, y’all.”

G. M. clinked his fork on his coffee cup and whooped. The clinking and whooping spread around the room.

Oh no.

“That means you’ve got to kiss her, Pax,” Gene called.

Not a good idea. But he looped his arm around Leah’s waist.

She stiffened, then relaxed.

Clay aimed a grin at his buddies. “I’m fixing to do a lot of that, but not in front of y’all.” Then he swung Leah right out the door.

“Sorry about that. Here, let me take your suitcase.” He released her and led her from the reception room out through the chapel.

Thank goodness he’d dodged that bullet. The kiss during the wedding ceremony had about done him in. She’d looked paralyzed when he lifted her veil, and he’d thought he’d kiss wooden lips.

Boy, was he wrong. She’d kissed him back, and the sweetness of it . . .

Granted, he hadn’t kissed a girl for over two years, but he couldn’t remember any kiss so sweet. He couldn’t let it happen again. The last thing he needed was to fall for Leah. When he went into battle, he didn’t want anything to hold him back.

“We have plenty of time to call my folks before we head into town for our portraits and dinner.” Clay opened the chapel door. “Would you like me to hail a cab? The telephone center is about three blocks away.”

“I can walk.” Leah frowned at her suitcase. “But you shouldn’t have to carry my things as well as yours.”

He laughed and headed down the street. She certainly wasn’t a princess. “Nonsense. I’m used to twenty-five-mile marches with full combat gear. This is nothing.”

“Still—”

“I mean this is nothing.” He held up her suitcase between thumb and forefinger. “I thought girls packed heavy.”

“I don’t know why.” Leah shrugged. “What do you need? A change of clothes, a comb, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. Darlene told me the hotel will provide towels and soap. Isn’t that nice of them?”

“You’ve never stayed in a hotel, have you?”

“No. I’m so excited.” Her face shone. “I’ve never eaten dinner in a restaurant either. Darlene and I had sandwiches in a café after I received my first paycheck, but a real dinner? I can’t wait.”

She really did need someone to take care of her.

Leah twisted her wedding ring as she walked.

“The ring—does it fit all right?”

“It fits perfectly.” She stretched her hand before her. “I’ve always wanted a piece of jewelry, and look how pretty it is.”

Her first piece of jewelry, and he’d only bought her a plain gold band? “I should have gotten you something nicer.”

“Nicer? What could be nicer?” She twisted her hand in the sun. “The simplicity allows you to admire the beauty of the gold.”

Some of the Rangers had ribbed him about getting married. “Kiss your paycheck good-bye,” they’d said.

They didn’t know Leah Jones.

Leah Paxton.

Clay climbed the steps to the telephone center, identical to every other building at Camp Forrest. “I like calling home on Saturday evenings when the fellows are out on the town—no lines. This is early for me. Hope my folks are home.”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded as small as when she’d said her vows, probably nervous.

He couldn’t blame her when his stomach was turning this way and that.

The lady at the front desk directed them to an open booth. Clay motioned for Leah to take the seat. Then he set down the luggage, removed his stifling wool jacket, and had the operator put him through to Kerrville, Texas.

As the connections went through, Clay leaned back against the doorjamb. Daddy and Mama would be shocked, since he’d never mentioned dating anyone. At least he’d told them about rescuing Leah.

“Hello?” Daddy’s voice, deep and gruff.

“Hiya, Daddy. Hope you don’t mind me calling early.”

“Never. Lupe, it’s Clay.”

Clay heard his mama in the background, saying, “So early?” He could picture his parents scooting two chairs under the phone on the kitchen wall, holding the receiver between them.

“Hola, mijo. How are you?”

“Fine. Listen, we only have five minutes, and I have big news for y’all.”

“Oh?” Mama said.

Clay sank his hand into his trouser pocket. “Remember me telling you about Leah Jones?”

“That poor girl,” Mama said. “Everyone from church is praying for her. How is she?”

“She’s out of the hospital. But she isn’t Leah Jones anymore. She’s Leah Paxton.”

In the silence, Clay held his breath, staring at the opposite doorjamb, avoiding Leah’s gaze.

“Did we hear right?” Daddy said. “Leah Paxton?”

“You may be getting older, Daddy, but your hearing’s just fine. Leah and I got married about two hours ago. She’s sitting here with me.”

“Married?” he said. “How well do you know this girl?”

“Well enough to know she’s the one.” Clay clenched his hand in his pocket so the strain wouldn’t show in his voice.

“You had a wedding? Without us?” Mama sounded hurt. “Oh, Clay, we would have come.”

No time for that in these circumstances. “Sorry, Mama, but my battalion is leaving soon. I didn’t want to wait.”

“Wyatt and Adler are gone.” Mama’s voice quivered. “Every day we pray they come home, but right now you’re the only son we have, and this may be the only wedding . . .”

Clay grimaced and rested his head back. He hadn’t meant to hurt them.

“Never mind that, Lupe. Water under the bridge,” Daddy said. “Congratulations, son. We’re happy for you.”

“Oh yes. We are . . . so happy. We’ve always wanted a daughter. What’s she like?”

That was better. Clay winked at his bride, who looked like a rabbit facing a stewpot. “She’s about the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen. No taller than you, Mama. Curly black hair and pretty brown eyes. She’s real smart too. She’s a librarian. I’ll send you our wedding portrait.”

“Was her family able to be there?” Mama asked. “I hope so.”

“She’s an orphan, so no. She was raised in an orphanage.”

Mama gasped. “Oh, the poor child. Put her on. Please let me talk to her.”

Clay held out the receiver. “They want to talk to you.”

Leah pressed back against the wall as if she wanted to bust a hole through and escape.

He chuckled. “They already love you.”

Her expression melted into wonder, and she took the phone. “Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Paxton?”

Clay could hear Mama’s excited jabbering.

“All—all right,” Leah said. “I’m from Iowa, from Des Moines . . . Since June. I started working at the Camp Forrest Library a few days after I graduated from high school . . . I’m eighteen . . . Yes, it’s been—a big change.”

Clay heard the operator’s warning. Only one minute remaining.

“Before I hang up, I want to thank you for raising Clay.” Leah lowered her face. “He—he’s the kindest, most generous man. Thank you . . . Good-bye.”

She handed Clay the phone, but she didn’t look at him. “They want to talk to you.”

Clay held the phone to his ear. “I’m back.”

“She seems like a very nice young lady,” Daddy said.

“She’s wonderful.” Mama’s voice choked. “Mijo, you’ve made me so happy. You believe you have a future again. I’m so glad—so glad you’ll go off to war with a reason to live.”

Was that what they thought? He stifled a groan. This hadn’t changed a thing, but if it made his parents happier for the remaining few months of his life, so be it. “I ought to say good-bye before we get cut off.”

“Yes. Good-bye and congratulations,” Daddy said. “Give that wife of yours a big kiss from us.”

“I’ll do that.” Clay hung up.

Now he had to keep that promise. He kissed Leah on the forehead, much safer than what Daddy had in mind. “From my parents.”

Big brown eyes turned up to him. “What does ‘mee-ha’ mean? Your mother kept saying it.”

Mija meant he had the best mother in the world. “Mija means daughter.”

Leah’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ll tell you what else it means.” Clay rested his forearm on the wall over her head and leaned closer so he could keep his voice low. “It means our baby will have doting grandparents to spoil her rotten.”

Her eyes shimmered, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

Clay perched on the edge of the little bench beside her and offered his handkerchief.

“Thank you, but I don’t—I don’t cry.” Her voice broke, and she took the handkerchief.

He rested back against the wall while contentment filled every compartment of his soul. Not only was he giving Leah and the baby a comfortable life together, but he’d given them a big family that would keep loving and supporting them long after he was gone. He hadn’t even thought of that before the phone call.

He’d given his parents a gift too. Clay would die, and Wyatt and Adler might never come home again. But now Daddy and Mama had a daughter to cherish and a grandchild on the way.

Leah sniffed. “I suppose all brides say this, but this is the happiest day of my life.”

Clay couldn’t contain his grin. “Mine too.”