In Perfect Time by Sarah Sundin Read Free Book Online Page B

get morphine,but you need your sulfa.” She opened the bottle and shook out tablets, far too many, and they sprinkled to the floor. With a shaky hand, she funneled the extras into the bottle and pressed one tablet into Carson’s hand.
    Kay lowered herself to the floor and picked up the wasted pills from among the dirt clods.
    Her stomach turned over. She never made mistakes like this. Now she’d have to track down where she’d gone wrong, correct what errors she could, apologize for the errors she couldn’t correct, and confess to both the physician and to Lieutenant Lambert.
    What kind of chief nurse candidate made a grave mistake like this?
    What kind of chief nurse candidate allowed herself to function on automatic pilot?
    Grant had said the automatic pilot was no good in stormy weather or turbulence. How dare she rely on it in the middle of her own turbulence?
    Bile bulged in her mouth and threatened to make an even bigger fool of her. She swallowed it back down, swallowed her shame.
    But the truth couldn’t be swallowed.
    For the first time since she’d run away from home, she’d lost control.

    Lalmai, Lower Bengal, India
April 6, 1944
    Five thousand miles in five days.
    Roger felt it in his back and arms and head. The stops in Libya and Egypt and Iran and India blurred together, and his chewing gum had turned stiff. One last landing, in far eastern India, close to the Burmese border. He gazed out thecockpit window to the steamy green jungle, the clearing for the airstrip, and the descending line of his squadron’s C-47s. “Looking forward to a good night’s sleep.”
    “Me too.” Mike Elroy wiped his forehead. “And a day off, I hope.”
    “We’d better get one. Gotta adjust to heat and humidity.” Roger wore his khaki shirt unbuttoned to the waist and his trousers rolled up to the knees, but sweat soaked his clothing.
    On the downwind leg of the landing pattern, the C-47 drew opposite to the runway. Altitude and airspeed looked good. “Landing gear down.”
    Elroy moved the handle to the left of his seat. “Down.”
    After the green light flashed on the instrument panel, Roger secured the landing gear latch on the floor. He eased up the propeller controls to 2250 rpm, adjusted the throttles for descent, and scoped out the airstrip. A dirt surface. No more being spoiled with asphalt or even the temporary surfaces rigged by the engineers.
    The 64th Troop Carrier Group was in for a rugged time.
    Sweat slithered down his breastbone. Could he handle it? Or would he fail and endanger the lives of his crew, passengers, and bystanders on the ground? Would he let Veerman down and ruin his best chance at a big-time band?
    His breath huffed out, loud enough to make Elroy look his way.
    Roger put the bird into a ninety-degree turn toward the end of the runway. “Hotter than a blast furnace.”
    “Yep. Three-quarter flaps.” The copilot readjusted the lever.
    “Second power reduction.” He pushed down the throttles, aiming for 120 miles per hour.
    Elroy might be greener than the jungle below, but he probably cared more about crew and passenger safety than about impressing Veerman. Although Roger’s body ached for sleep, his soul craved time with God.
    He winced. His Bible.
    Would Kay actually read it? If not, his sacrifice was in vain. And if she did read it? If she read the book of Job as he’d suggested?
    He puffed out another breath. He’d only read the book once or twice and found it tough. Lou had started Roger off with the book of Romans and had been there to field questions. Roger had started Kay off with Job and bolted to another continent. What was he thinking?
    “One twenty,” Elroy said.
    Roger turned for the approach. “Third power reduction.”
    “Full flaps.”
    The runway spread straight in front of him, and Roger kept up the play of ailerons, elevators, rudder, and throttles to make a good landing. Dozens of C-47s were parked around the airstrip, and trucks and people milled