Sea Before Us (Sunrise at Normandy Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Sarah Sundin

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196 pages

English

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Description

In 1944, American naval officer Lt. Wyatt Paxton arrives in London to prepare for the Allied invasion of France. He works closely with Dorothy Fairfax, a "Wren" in the Women's Royal Naval Service. Dorothy pieces together reconnaissance photographs with thousands of holiday snapshots of France--including those of her own family's summer home--in order to create accurate maps of Normandy. Maps that Wyatt will turn into naval bombardment plans.As the two spend concentrated time together in the pressure cooker of war, their deepening friendship threatens to turn to love. Dorothy must resist its pull. Her bereaved father depends on her, and her heart already belongs to another man. Wyatt too has much to lose. The closer he gets to Dorothy, the more he fears his efforts to win the war will destroy everything she has ever loved.The tense days leading up to the monumental D-Day landing blaze to life under Sarah Sundin's practiced pen with this powerful new series.

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	06 février 2018
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781493412587
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0384€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2018 by Sarah Sundin
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1258-7
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author is represented by the literary agency of Books & Such Literary Management.
Dedication
To my oldest son, Stephen— Thank you for your support, encouragement, and your steady strength . . . and for alerting the world to the danger of squirrels.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Special Order of the Day
Prologue
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5
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48
Excerpt of the Next Book in the Series
Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Special Order of the Day
Prologue
Kerrville, Texas Saturday, June 14, 1941
Wyatt Paxton never realized coming home could be as bittersweet as leaving.
He climbed the wooded hill that overlooked Kerrville, his two younger brothers and their girlfriends behind him. After four years in college, he thought he’d be ready to become his father’s manager at Paxton Trucking, and he thought he’d be over Oralee Bates.
He wasn’t and he wasn’t.
An oak branch dipped low in the pathway. Wyatt pulled it aside for the rest of the party. “When was the last time we boys came up here to our Celebration Point?”
“Two years.” His younger brother Adler passed him with a smile. He and Wyatt had inherited fair coloring from Daddy and their mother, a woman they only knew from photos. “I was celebrating heading off to college.”
“It was my high school graduation, Ad.” Clay, the youngest brother, gave Adler a playful punch on the shoulder. His dark good looks hailed from Wyatt’s stepmother and her Ramirez clan. “And the start of my servitude at the office. Now finished, hallelujah.”
Wyatt grinned at Clay, who would soon be studying medicine. All three sons had worked for Daddy for two years after high school to earn their tuition money.
“Wait up, boys. Ellen’s got a pebble in her shoe.”
For half a second, Wyatt noticed Clay’s pretty blonde girlfriend fussing with her shoe, but then his gaze drifted to Oralee. Always to Oralee. Gentle and strong. And engaged to Adler.
He gripped the rough branch. Adler and Oralee had been together seven years. They’d be married in August. When would it stop hurting?
Ellen worked her shoe back on, and the ladies passed Wyatt.
“Thanks, Wy.” Oralee smiled, her brown eyes sweeter than Mama’s flan. Then the tall brunette darted to Adler, slipped her hand in his, and leaned against his shoulder, her sunny yellow dress swishing about shapely knees.
Wyatt released the branch and jogged to the head of the line. Better to have the lovebirds behind him than in front.
Adler chuckled. “Always have to be first, don’t you, Wy?”
Wyatt’s shoulders tensed. Adler should talk. From the moment he came out of the womb, he’d been nipping at Wyatt’s heels. Besting him in grades, in home runs, at Paxton Trucking, and stealing the woman he loved.
He blew out a long breath. Not entirely true. Sure, Wyatt had met Oralee first, but while he was working up the nerve to ask her out, Adler swooped in, never hesitating, never failing.
Wyatt had to admit, Adler and Oralee were good together.
He rounded the bend and stopped. He’d forgotten about the footbridge. A chasm cut through the side of the hill, spanned by an old two-by-eight.
“Rats.” They’d never brought the ladies up here.
“We don’t have to cross this, do we?” Oralee stared at the plank. She and Ellen wore fancy dresses and heels from Wyatt’s college graduation party this afternoon.
“You know, this is a good enough place right here.” Wyatt swept his hand to the west. “Got a clear spot to roast our marshmallows, and we’ll be able to see the sunset just fine.”
Adler snorted. “Good enough? Not when we’ve got the best view in the Texas Hill Country up yonder.”
Oralee gripped her hands in front of her stomach. “It doesn’t look safe.”
“I’ll go.” Ellen gave Adler a saucy smile. “I’m not scared.”
“See, darlin’?” Adler lifted Oralee’s hands and kissed them. “Nothing to worry about. We’ve crossed this bridge hundreds of times.”
“But there’s nothing to hold on to and—”
“Come on, darlin’. For me?”
Wyatt’s chest tightened. All his life, Adler got his way through charming people and cajoling them, and it wasn’t right.
Oralee peered into the ravine, her forehead rippling. “I—I don’t want to. It doesn’t look safe, and you know how clumsy I am.”
“You’ll be fine. No reason to be scared. And wait until you see the view.”
Indignation burned in Wyatt’s gut. Why wouldn’t Adler listen to her? “The view’s fine here. Don’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to.”
Adler dropped his fiancée’s hands and stepped around her, his pale blue eyes narrowed at Wyatt. “Thought by now you’d have outgrown being a scaredy-cat.”
Oralee hugged his arm. “Adler . . .”
Wyatt’s jaw jutted out. “Thought by now you’d have outgrown calling people names.”
“When it fits.”
“It’s not being scared. It’s being cautious, protecting people.”
“Hey . . .” Clay’s nervous laugh filtered through. “We’re supposed to be celebrating, not fighting.”
“Yeah?” Adler’s gaze stayed fixed on Wyatt. “Tell that to Mr. Busybody, thinks he knows better than everyone else ’cause he’s two years older.”
He took a step closer. “Maybe I do. If you think it’s right to coax a girl to cross a little footbridge in high heels, then—”
“Stop it.” Oralee stepped between them and pulled on Adler’s sleeve. “Please don’t fight.”
Adler eased her aside, never breaking his gaze with Wyatt. “Out of the way, darlin’. This has nothing to do with you.”
No, it didn’t. It wasn’t about the bridge. It wasn’t even about Oralee. “You’ve just got to have your way, don’t you?”
Adler closed the distance, his nose inches from Wyatt’s. “And you don’t? Listen to you, so high-and-mighty, marching around, giving orders.”
“Orders?” Wyatt bumped his chest into his brother’s. “I’m trying to protect her ’cause you won’t. Can’t you see she’s scared? Can’t you listen to someone else for a change?”
“Stop it!” Oralee’s voice came from behind him, near the bridge. “Stop arguing.”
“It’s not your job to protect her. It’s mine.” Adler shoved Wyatt, his eyes ablaze. “Get out of my business.”
Wyatt shoved him back. Felt good. “I will when you start treating your girl right.”
“Stop it,” Oralee cried. “He treats me fine, Wy. Just fine.”
“You heard her.” Another shove from Adler.
“Yeah?” Wyatt pointed to the rickety old plank. “If you love her, stop forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to. Protect her for a change.”
“Stop it, you two. Look, I’m going. I’ll go. Please stop fighting.” Oralee placed one foot on the bridge, a breeze lifting her brown curls.
“Oralee!” Wyatt yelled. “Don’t. You don’t have to.”
She tossed her curls. “I can take care of myself, Wyatt Paxton.”
“See?” Adler punched his arm. “She can do it. Can’t you, darlin’?”
“I can.” But her foot wobbled, and she barely caught herself.
Wyatt lunged forward. “Oralee, don’t.”
“Leave me alone, Wy. I’m fine.” Then her heel slipped, and she tottered, her arms seesawing.
“No!” Wyatt grabbed her hand.
“Stop it! Leave me alone.” She yanked her hand free.
Then the fury in her eyes melted into terror, and she fell—away from him—her hand and her gaze and her scream stretching to him, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t reach her.
A crack ended her scream. Arms, legs, yellow skirt, brown curls rolled and bounced, then came to a rest, sprawled and twisted over blood-spattered rocks.
Wyatt’s hand turned to ice, curled useless before him, and a guttural cry rasped over his throat.
“Oralee!” Adler screamed, and he scrambled down the rocks. “Oralee!”
“Careful.” Clay followed his brother. “Don’t touch her. You could make it worse. Wait for me.”
What had he done? Wyatt stood, every muscle frozen. He wanted to protect Oralee, and he’d . . . he’d . . .
“Oralee? Say something, darlin’. Say something.” About fifteen feet below, Adler hunched over her, hands spread wide, not touching, obeying the future physician.
“Oralee?” Clay gently brushed curls from her eyes, her wide, unblinking eyes.
“No . . .” Wyatt’s chest convulsed. What had he done? What had he done?
Wailing rose beside him—Ellen, down on her knees.
Clay pressed his fingers to Oralee’s neck, his head bowing lower and lower. “I’m sorry, Adler. You and I—we’ll stay with her. Wyatt, go fetch the doctor, the sheriff, tell—”
“Noooo!” Adler roared. His arms, stretched in a benediction over the woman he loved, now arched, knotted, an eagle’s wings rising to find prey. And he turned to Wyatt. “You did this.”
“I—I wanted—I was trying to protect—”
“You killed her!”
As if that two-by-eight had slammed him in the chest.
Adler clawed his way up the ravine, his face twisted. “You—you always wanted her, couldn’t have her, so you—” A primal cry ripped the air, as old as Cain and Esau and the brothers of Joseph.
Wyatt couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
That cry grew, and Adler burst over the ledge, gripping a rock the size of a baseball.
Adler Paxton’s fastball had struck out the best batters in Texas.
Pain shrieked across Wyatt’s left cheek, spun him sidew