Hope Before Us (Women of Valor Book #3)

Elyse Larson

Description

The Exciting Conclusion to the WOMEN OF VALOR series!Will They Escape the Sinister Forces That Are Closing in on Them?Uncovering a diabolical Nazi plot, Marge Emerson is secretly reassigned to a medical post in France. There she meets a conscientious objector and finds his outspoken belief in God a challenge to her own fragile faith. When David shares his desire to return to Europe after the war and build an orphanage for Germany's homeless children, Marge is drawn to this selfless, compassionate man. Marge's sister, a war correspondent, is recruited for intelligence work by an American secret service agency and quickly becomes involved in an intricate web of espionage. Em's fledgling relationship with a fellow correspondent is threatened by his concern over the dangerous risks she willingly embraces. When Marge and Em are unexpectedly reunited in France, they attempt a daring rescue.Link to Readers' Discussion Questions

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 août 2002
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441262431
• Langue: English

Extrait

Women of Valor, Book Three
The Hope Before Us
Elyse Larson
© 2002 by Elyse Larson
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Minneapolis, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2012
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, photocopying, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-6243-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Cover by Dan Thornberg
The internet addresses, email addresses, and phone numbers in this book are accurate at the time of publication. They are provided as a resource. Baker Publishing Group does not endorse them or vouch for their content or permanence.
“W E ARE GOING TO WIN THE WAR,
AND WE ARE GOING TO WIN THE PEACE….
THE VAST MAJORITY OF THE MEMBERS
OF THE HUMAN RACE ARE ON OUR SIDE.
M ANY OF THEM ARE FIGHTING WITH US.
A LL OF THEM ARE PRAYING FOR US.
F OR, IN REPRESENTING OUR CASE, WE REPRESENT THEIRS AS WELL
OUR HOPE AND THEIR HOPE FOR LIBERTY UNDER GOD.”
F RANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT
R ADIO BROADCAST, DECEMBER 9, 1941
Dedication
To our grandchildren may our hopes become theirs.
Richard Larson
John Larson
Evan Larson
Justin Larson
Jennifer Larson
Jeffrey Larson
Patricia Larson
Karen Linden
Jeremy Linden
Timothy Linden
Daniel Linden
Acknowledgments
I am deeply indebted to editor Sharon Asmus, painstaking about historical accuracy, talented in editorial skill, and endlessly encouraging to this writer. I want to thank artist Dan Thornberg, too, for the wonderful cover designs he has created for all of the Women of Valor books.
Thanks to writer friends who have helped me with advice, encouragement, and prayers, especially Katy, Gail, Birdie, Marion, Woodeene, Marcia, Pat, Lauraine, Ruby, and Sandy.
Many thanks to my husband, Richard, who first made me aware of the cruelty of the U.S. internment of Japanese Americans and to Kenny Namba of Gresham, who served in the Nisei Combat Team and loaned me his copy of the military history of the 442nd Division. The facts about the actions of the Nisei Combat Team are as accurate as I could make them.
All persons in this novel are fictitious, except for a few known historical figures and the named heroes of the Nisei Combat Team. Lieutenant Masanao Otake, Staff Sergeant Yoshimi Fujiwara, Technical Sergeant Abraham Ohama, and Staff Sergeant Robert Kuroda were real decorated heroes, but only four out of hundreds from that division. The 442nd Division Nisei Combat Team became one of the most decorated divisions of WWII, earning more than thirty-nine hundred individual awards. This becomes more impressive when one learns that the combat team did not enter action until June 1944, less than a year before the war ended in Europe.
For the inspiration and factual detail of Em and Marge Emerson’s story, I am indebted to the women who served in the Army Nurse Corps and as war correspondents who were willing to tell their stories. Their true experiences were more amazing than fiction dares to present.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Elyse Larson
Back Cover
Prologue
September 1944
Lieutenant Marge Emerson, U.S. Army Medical Corps, jumped from the landing craft into the waist-deep icy surf and floundered behind the GIs toward Normandy Beach. The weight of her musette bag on her back nearly dragged her under. Cliffs above the beach offered no gunfire now, but wrecked landing barges and blasted-out trucks still rose from the shallows and littered the sand. On the long floating docks to Marge’s right, other landing craft disgorged army trucks, tanks, ammunition, barrels of gasoline, and all the supplies that the invading army needed to conduct war.
Marge had been ordered to France to join a field hospital team. Back in Wales, when she had pressed for investigation of an apparent suicide, she had unwittingly stumbled into a carefully laid plan to break up a Nazi spy ring in Britain. To protect her and their secret operation, the British Secret Service had spirited her away from Gilwern Military Hospital under cover of night. Sworn to secrecy, she hadn’t said good-bye to friends, and she’d been ordered not to write to anyone. Letters to her would be detained so that no one could trace her whereabouts.
It was bad enough that her friends would worry about her, but what her sudden disappearance would do to her parents and to her sister, Em, really troubled Marge.
She sloshed onto the wet sand, looking for the person who would take her to Ste-Mère-Eglise evacuation hospital, where she was to link up with the team of nurses headed for Belgium.
The soldiers with whom she’d landed formed into lines and marched to waiting trucks. She stood at the water’s edge uncertain which way to go.
“Lieutenant Emerson! Lieutenant Emerson!” a man’s voice called.
She turned toward the dock. A tall soldier jogged toward her. He came at an easy run across the packed sand and halted a couple of paces from her. Saluting, he said, “Sergeant David Lewellyn, ma’am. I’m your driver.”
She returned his salute and glanced at the insignia on his shoulder. “You’re not Medical Corps.”
“No, ma’am. Infantry. First Division. I’m a medic. I’m returning from a week’s R and R in Paris. When the CO said there was a nurse who needed to be picked up, I volunteered. Rescuing is my specialty, and I figured you might need rescuing after coming across the Channel with all those Joes eager to make points with a nurse.”
She laughed. “Sounds like you’ve been in the army for some time.”
“Yes, ma’am. My jeep is over yonder.” Without requesting permission, he lifted her wet bag from her shoulders.
Startled, because military women were supposed to carry their own bags, she said, “Well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. A lot of army rules go against my grain. I was surprised they landed you in the water like the guys. It’s a wonder you didn’t have to swim for it, you being down there a foot shorter.”
“They said the docks must be used for unloading supplies.” Then she laughed. “I’m only a foot shorter than you . Most of the men don’t reach your elevation. You must make a large target on the front lines.”
“So they tell me. I figure I’m also a good cover for the boys.”
She studied his face and saw no hint of bravado or bragging. “That doesn’t seem to worry you.”
“No, ma’am,” he said quietly. The sun’s reflection from the sand shined upward on his face, softening the shadow cast by his steel helmet. His craggy features seemed to glow. He reminded her of a guardian angel statue back home on the campus of the hospital where she’d trained. “How did you come to be a medic?” she asked.
“I’m a conscientious objector, ma’am. I don’t hold with killing.”
“Is this a matter of your faith?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They had reached the jeep. He tossed her bag behind the seat and moved to the driver’s side while she climbed into the passenger seat. With a roar and minimal spinning of wheels, they headed for the road at the base of the cliff to join the line of supply trucks rolling inland.
Marge took care not to stare but found her eyes returning to his profile repeatedly. She had nothing but respect for conscientious objectors who risked their lives to save lives. She wished he’d say more about his convictions, but he drove silently as they ascended a ravine and moved into farmland divided by tall, battle-torn hedgerows. Something about Sergeant Lewellyn made her feel safe and settled after her distressing flight from Wales. She found herself wishing she could know him better.
Chapter One
Paris
October 1944
Em Emerson went to the window of her room in Hotel Scribe and looked down on the street. The sun broke through the clouds, igniting the scene. Paris! She was here at last. The beloved city, pride of France, had not suffered air raids or shelling. The buildings around her stood unmarred, turning the scene timeless.
Parisians, walking on the sidewalk below, looked healthy despite being thin. For the most part the women dressed attractively in bright colors. In the streets, however, the war and the Occupation had created a conspicuous absence of autos. In addition to military vehicles, the traffic consisted of bicycles and pedicabs, which were remodeled bicycles that looked like Chinese rickshaws.
After living in bombed-out London and driving through the war-savaged towns and landscape in Normandy, she found Paris incredibly beautiful. When she found time, she’d love to explore it for fun…with Bob. At the thought of the older war correspondent who had championed her at every turn, her heart made a butterfly takeoff.
She had vowed not to fall into a wartime romance but had long since given up trying to talk herself out of her attraction to him. At first she’d thought her feelings simply sprang from gratitude for his kindness. As a female war correspondent, she was intruding into a male-dominated profession, and ma