A Soldier's Promise

Her eyes lit with wit. “A car brought me here. I want to know why you’re avoiding my original question.”

Joel chuckled. She joined him as they walked along the grass. He’d forgotten how it felt to laugh with a lady.

“Well?” She lifted a brow; the smile never left her face.

He bent to pick up a gravel pebble, staring first at the chipped ridges, then at her. “I haven’t been back here since I moved away.”

Surprise shone in her eyes. He handed her the rock. “Memories live here that I’ve spent a lifetime trying to forget. I have a longtime rift with a family member who still lives here. So I try to avoid the place.”

He didn’t want to dredge up the memories by talking about them. But something in her eyes called to him. She placed the rock back in his hand then pulled out a stick of red licorice from her jacket pocket and peeled the plastic wrap off it. “Then it was truly a sacrifice for you to come here for Bradley. That speaks well of your character. Want half?”

He took the licorice, loving the smell, but hating the memories it evoked. He didn’t want to hurt the teacher’s feelings. Uncle Dean kept bowls full of red licorice at his house. “He used to give me one every day after school,” Joel surprised himself by saying.

She nodded. “I think I know the man in question.”

Joel nearly choked on the candy. He stopped chewing and stared at her, feeling his jaw harden like the rock in his palm. “Excuse me?”

“Dean DuPaul. You’re the spitting image of him. How long’s it been since you spoke to your father, Mr. Montgomery?”

Joel shook his head. “He’s not my father. He’s my uncle, my father’s brother. They had different fathers, so their last names don’t match. Dean betrayed my family and I have no use for the man.” The words felt bitter even with the layer of sweetness coating Joel’s mouth. She nodded again, eyeing him with what Joel interpreted as concern. He needed to stop looking into those compassionate, compelling green eyes. Doing so made him want to get all soft and talk about it.

He forced his eyes to an about-face and his feet to march ahead as he motioned with his hand. “Let’s move on.” Hopefully she’d get that he didn’t want to talk about it further. Relief melted the tension from his jaw and shoulders when she fell into step beside him.

They meandered toward the ranks of Bradford pear trees flanking the concrete walk leading up to the school entrance. “Tell me about Miss Stanton,” Joel said, really wanting to know.

“There’s not much to tell.” She tugged her shirt hem much the same way Bradley had earlier.

Joel bit back a smile. “Really?” He leaned closer.

She looked everywhere but at him. “Really.”

He had a hard time believing that. Her chin lifted and she squinted her eyes at a yard scuffle erupting near the jungle gym. Another teacher blazed in, looking intent to deal with it.

Joel stepped off the path to a patch of sparse lawn which reminded him of Bradley’s thinning hair. He kicked a dirt clod. Dust layered the toe of his boot. “What kind of cancer does Bradley have?” Joel cringed inwardly, wishing he’d eased in instead of crashing into the subject.

Amber stopped and stared somberly at the scattered dirt. “Leukemia.” Emotion thickened her voice. “Without a successful bone marrow transplant, he’ll be—” she paused, swallowing “—gone by the end of the school year. I know God can step in and intervene either way. Regardless of whether his time is long or short, I intend to make it matter.” She lifted her face to meet his. “So, thank you very much for coming here today.”

Joel’s respect for her went up a notch. It took a unique person to teach children with special needs. Then to champion the task of making life matter to a dying child—he admired her big-time.

She shifted her stance as Bradley emerged from the brick school. Joel clenched his jaw. No need to cry in front of the kid, right? Today was supposed to be his dream come true. Joel was determined to go all out to accomplish that. Fact was, Bradley had already bunkered down into Joel’s heart. “Kid’s cute.”

“He knows it, too.” Pleasant laughter trailed her words.

Bradley hobbled up, darting his gaze from one to the other, making google eyes. Joel tugged off Bradley’s glasses, handing them to Amber. He swooped him up on his shoulders and galloped around more gently than he would if he were toting a well child. Bradley squealed with laughter.

Joel set him down and adopted a conspiratorial whisper. “Wanna hear my brilliant idea?”

Bradley leaned in, mimicking the whisper. “Yes.”

“How about we make you an honorary PJ for the day?”

Bradley’s shouts pierced the air then he ran off to tell his friends.

Over the next two hours, Joel felt anchored to Miss Stanton like a tether strap. He could mill around. Should even. Had no desire to. Completely fascinated with this small-town teacher, he soaked up her presence like drought-cracked earth after rain.

Too bad she lived in this tree-infested town. He’d like to get to know her better. Besides, in his line of work, long-term was tough. Not only that, her persona blared maternal!

The crackle of an ailing sound monitor preceded the high-pitched screech of toe-curling feedback. Joel shifted toward the announcer.

“I’m Mr. McCauley, the principal of this school. Though it’s daytime, students wanted to welcome our military visitors with a fireworks display and a special program, followed by our national anthem to be sung by one of our students.” His gaze sparkled with pride as it roved over the crowd of servicemen.

He swept his hand in an arc. “Gentlemen, we welcome you.”

Bottle rockets, lit by students with the assistance of teachers, streaked into blue sky. Screaming whistles zinged through the air, leaving spirals of twirling white smoke in their wakes. Cardboard cones on a concrete pad shot multicolor fire streams in regal hues.

Joel pivoted to observe Miss Stanton watching students interact with his teammates. The kindness in her face captivated him. That must be the appeal, he figured as she regarded each child with a tender smile. He shouldn’t stare. His good manners whispered, look away, and he would in a second…or two.

Hairs on the back of Amber’s neck stood at attention. She tilted her face upward. The intensity of the soldier’s gaze siphoned breath from her lungs. The sparks in his eyes were more electrifying than the fireworks.

Fireworks. She summoned strength to rip her eyes from the man and return them to the sky. Three muffled pops birthed sparkling red, white and blue alternating starbursts that sprinkled themselves across the sky before raining dozens of miniature plastic parachutes toward earth.

Children scrambled to grab them. As Joel turned to watch them, an eye-sized tattoo peeked at her from the back of his neck, just below the horizontal buzz of inky black hair. Her heart warmed at the sight of the Christian fish symbol with the Greek letters IXOYE in the middle of it.

But if he was a Christian, why would he harbor unforgiveness against someone, especially a blood relative?

Amber determined to pray for this soldier. If he was as stubborn as he looked, it would take someone bigger than her to convince him that reconciling was best. She knew firsthand what postponing forgiveness could do. She didn’t want this softhearted soldier to fall prey to bitterness. When he’d smiled, she’d been shocked just how much his cheeky grin resembled his uncle’s. Dean had mentioned Joel fondly in prayer requests at church.

She felt bad for assuming Joel was Dean’s son. She guessed now was not the time to tell Joel that Dean had been the one to stuff her pockets with gobs of licorice last Sunday. “For those special students,” he’d said. But she didn’t have to deal with the soldier on a sugar high the way she did her class and was glad to have someone else to give the red twists to.

When he rocked back on his heels, Amber shunted her stare back to the display. What was wrong with her today? She hadn’t even realized she’d been gawking until he’d turned and nearly caught her. She had no business scolding Bradley when she couldn’t keep her own manners in check.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering about this man who’d mentioned his mother in past tense with a twinge of sadness in his eyes.

And what had he meant by saying that God didn’t have children in his future?

She couldn’t fathom a person feeling that way. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t look forward to being a mother more than anything. But a California quake had shaken her life, leaving that dream in ruins.

Had it not happened, though, she might not have considered adopting a child. She could do that without a man and spare herself from heartbreak.

A concussive thump broke into her thoughts and ear-piercing whistles accompanied by dozens of gold and silver shooting stars that completed the show caught her attention.

When frenzied cheers and clapping subsided, a cocoa-skinned girl with dark, curly tresses whom Amber had seen around school stepped boldly to the microphone.

Palms to hearts and hats in hand, servicemen and parents stood to honor three students as they marched respectfully across the lawn with homemade flags bearing the words, Freedom, Liberty, and Just Us Four All, in glittery paint.

A laugh flew from Amber’s throat.

Joel, hands pocketed, leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his. “The children mean well.” Baritone laughter rumbled from his chest.

From an open side door, fifty students emerged, each waving a small American flag. T-shirts choreographed in order—one red, then white, the next blue, and so on all the way to the end. Well, almost to the end. Amber giggled. Two children must have gotten out of order, disrupting the color sequence.

Her heart melted as Joel and his rough-and-tumble cohorts’ expressions turned tender as they watched two students run back to help a lagging third with Down syndrome catch up. So the sequence went red, white, blue, red, white, blue, darting red, tugging blue…toddling white.

In a soulful alto, the little girl sang, and every voice became her chorus. On her ending note, the principal stepped to the podium and adjusted the microphone back to his level. He patted the little girl’s back as she stepped into the lawn of applause amid a standing ovation.

Just then, a dozen different beepers went off like cicadas all over the school yard. Silence dropped like a bomb.

A platoon of quiet murmurs and confused glances rippled as students, parents and teachers studied the serviceman closest to them. Palpable tension swarmed the air as each uniformed man pulled beepers from various places and peered at numbers.

Concern floated across faces one by one as numbers and codes registered, before they quickly recovered, controlling facial reactions. She doubted anyone else noticed. She probably wouldn’t have, either, had she not known sign language which attuned her to lipreading and nonverbal communication.

The military personnel met each other’s eyes, passing invisible signals like some sort of ominous code. Dread slithered up Amber’s spine. Thoughts spun like the twin chopper blades. Reason scrambled like the spotted men.

This many beepers. Not one silent. Every branch of the military. Every available soldier. All Special Forces. This is no coincidence. Fear entrenched itself in her chest and burrowed deep. Something major. Something global. Something terrible had just happened in the world.

What? Her mind screamed.

What?

Chapter Three

“Yo, Montgomery!”

Amber stepped aside as a man in desert camouflage sprinted over with a cell phone in hand. “CO Petrowski’s callin’ you back on this phone in twenty.”

A flurry of activity erupted as military personnel packed up display items and loaded gear into the choppers, which roared to life. Their blades swooshed her hair like monstrous fans, and ended conversation. Despite that, Amber picked up on a few words passed between Joel and the other officer. Unprecedented magnitude. Tragic destruction. Thousands trapped.

Something about a large rescue, relief and recovery operation, and their team being on standby for deployment.

“Let’s be ready to roll just in case.” Joel bent as Bradley neared—to hear over the thwumping helicopters, she supposed. Clay-colored dust clouds turned the air into a sandstorm.

Bradley looked like a poster child for despair. “Am I ever gonna see you again?”

Amber wanted to ask the same thing.

“I sure hope so, lil’buddy.” Joel circled Bradley’s waist with one arm.

“I sure hope so, too.” Bradley’s chin quivered. Amber drew closer, hand to Bradley’s back.

“You promised I could be a hairy PJ for the day.” Bradley fingered an emblem on Joel’s uniform.

Honorary, Amber corrected mentally.

Joel tilted his face and coughed into his hand and pulled Bradley closer. Amber wasn’t fooled. Moisture sheened Joel’s eyes before he’d blinked it away.

Hands sidling Joel’s face, Bradley leaned nose to nose. “You promised, and PJs don’t break promises, right? That means you’ll be back. You only rescue people. No one really ever shoots at you, right?”

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he regarded Bradley. “Let’s make a pact. You promise to fight this cancer as hard as you can and hang on till I get back, and I promise to be the best rescuer and bullet-dodger in the world. Deal?”

Bradley’s smile reached his eyes. “Deal.”

Chills danced up Amber’s scalp as Bradley transformed before her. Hope. She hadn’t seen it on his face since his diagnosis. Bradley hugged Joel hard. Joel held Bradley tighter. He pulled a maroon beret from his side pack and placed it on Bradley’s head. After swiping tears at the gesture, Bradley made Joel pinkie-shake on their special deal.

At the last bell, a horn sounded in the parking lot.

Amber brushed Bradley’s arm. “Your ride is waiting, tater.”

A frown beset by a flash of irritation drew Joel’s face tight as he glared at the car, a dilapidated source of incessant honking which Amber deemed Bradley’s ride.

Bradley stole one last hug, then shuffled off like a slug in the slow lane. Joel watched him, looking coiled and ready to pounce should Bradley stumble.

The car door swung open and a barrage of female screeching tumbled out. Compassion settled on Joel’s face.

“What makes his gait unsteady?” Joel asked.

“His illness,” Amber replied.

He eyed the car and its driver with what she interpreted as disdain as it jolted forward. It sped from the lot, leaving twin tire trails and poufs of silvery-white dust. “Car muffler’s obviously MIA. That his mom?”

“No. Bradley’s birth mother abandoned him.”

Joel twisted to peer at her. Had his skin blanched a shade lighter with her words?

He flicked a glance down the road. “Who picked him up just then?”

“His foster mom.”

“That the best they can do for him?”

“There is a court hearing scheduled to secure a better arrangement for Bradley.” She glossed over the fact that the woman was one violation away from losing her foster license and custody of Bradley. Her answer must not have pacified Joel.

With pinpoint accuracy and acutely unnerving silence, Joel stared into her eyes like a sniper to a scope.

Amber brushed hair behind her ear. “We suspect she’s neglectful on many levels.”

His brows crinkled. “He’s still with her, why?”

“Because we need concrete proof, and she’s the person his mother left him with.”

“Why doesn’t she let someone adopt him? He’s an adorable little kid. Though I suppose with his illness, most families wouldn’t want to take him.”

I would. “Adoption requires consent from his biological mother. After a two-month quest, we located her, hoping his diagnosis might spur her to want time with him.”

“Did it?”

“No. She signed over rights, saying she couldn’t deal with a healthy kid, much less a sick one. His caseworker and attorney subpoenaed paperwork to determine where things stand legally with the foster mother, and whether he needs to be a ward of the state.”

Joel peered at his watch, then to the choppers.

“Do you need to go?” She wondered what the page had been about. Had to be something big, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot if it were something top secret.

“Not yet. The page earlier set us on standby alert. We’re packing up just in case we get deployed. We’re a quick reaction force, so I like to be ready.” He dipped his head toward her collar. “I forgot to give his glasses back.”

She looked down, and tugged them from her pocket. “That’s okay. It’ll give me an excuse to run them by his house.”

Joel lifted a boot to the school yard slide. “You need an excuse?”

“His foster mother can be…volatile.”

He stared at the glasses in Amber’s hand. “No wonder he wished for a family. How can they allow a questionable individual to be a foster parent?”

“I gather she put up a good front at first. Lately, not so good.”

“Poor guy’s got a lot on his plate.” Joel lifted hands to soldiers gathering tiny flags the children had left them. He caught one they tossed. “You said we. Are you involved in the process as his teacher?”

She nodded, about to clarify she had applied for a foster care license to take Bradley in. Something stopped her. “I spearheaded the search for his mother—”

Joel’s reaction silenced her. He first looked slapped, then detached as he faced the swings. His head dropped forward toward the ground and he swallowed. His expression like a flint, he set his face skyward, as if searching for something. As if suddenly remembering Amber, he swiveled toward her and their eyes locked.

Her breath hitched at the bold, compelling intensity. Amber couldn’t tell his thoughts. He didn’t speak, just stared. She stared back, wanting badly to know what in the world was happening. Not just here between them, but globally. A shrill jingle made him blink.

She flinched, the moment lost.

He flipped the cell open. “Yes, Commander…I am aware, sir…We anticipated that and are only ten from liftoff…You’re welcome…I know, sir. I’m praying, too.”

Joel closed the phone, dropped it in his front pocket. “Can they spare you a minute?” He darted a glance at the school.

“For a few minutes.” Amber followed. “Can you tell me what’s happened? We’re all understandably frightened.”

“It’s all over the news. An earthquake hit Asia, causing floods in the tsunami zone.”

“Earthquake?” Amber blurted.

“Thousands of South Indians are in dire need along the coastline. My team will be part of the humanitarian mission.”

Amber deflated, glad World War III hadn’t started. Then guilt assailed her. The tragedy might not have struck her world, but it had struck someone’s. Lots of someones. “How horrible.” She held Joel’s empathetic expression.

He nodded. “Listen, I intended to make things real special for Bradley, but literally the ocean came up. Will he understand?” Uncertainty flickered behind the calm in his eyes.

Was he kidding? “Oh, Joel. You have no idea the impact of what you’ve done here today, do you? All these soldiers, those helicopters, your jump…un-be-lievable. Bradley has never experienced anything so profoundly amazing.” Neither have I. The world needs more men like this one, Lord.

The glimmer resurfaced in his eyes. Not tears really, just tangible emotion. “That’s good. I hate to cut this convo short, but I should help pick up.” He moved toward soldiers who passed by, loading supplies. They waved him back, so he retrained his gaze on her. She guessed this was goodbye.

“I feel exceedingly blessed to have met you, Special Soldier Montgomery.” She stretched her hand for a departing shake.

He didn’t budge except to blink down at her palm before casting a thoughtful expression at her. He scratched a finger over his temple where tanned skin melted into an onyx-shadowed buzz cut. “Can I, uh—can I get your contact info?”

Her heart thudded warmth onto her face. “Um…Okay, sure.”

“You know, for updates on Bradley. And stuff.”

Stuff? What constituted stuff? “Of course.” She patted her pockets for something to write with and on.

So did he, and came up with a blue splotched paper.

“That’s Bradley’s letter,” she said.

He eyed her head and grinned. “And this—” he tugged the blue pen from behind her ear “—is the culprit.”

They shared a laugh as she wrote down her contact information. Fending off a snicker, she slipped the pen between the paper folds while he peered past her.

Amber handed him the bulky letter. “I know you need to go.”

“In a minute.”

She thought he’d find the dreaded pen right then but he tucked the paper in his chest pocket and reached out his hand.

When she put hers there, he sandwiched it between his. He stared at her with sincere intensity. “It was truly an honor to meet you, too, Special Teacher Stanton. I won’t soon forget you.” Warmth emanated from his fingers and spread up her arms.

Soon forget? That meant he’d eventually forget, right? A weird panic seized her that she may never see him again. Her heart and mind raced. How could she make him know how much this meant to Bradley? Did Joel know what a rare and precious stone he was in this rocky world?

Aware the children had gone, Amber slipped her hand from his then reached up as far as she could without making frontal contact, and hugged him.

Bulky arms wound around her, pulling her close, reciprocating. My, she hadn’t meant to get this close.

She marveled at how he could be strong and tender at the same time as he held her against a wall of security and warmth.

The guy was built like a tank. Thankfully he smelled of crisp air and soap instead of mortar and metal. She pulled back, instantly missing the comforting thud of his heart.

His eyes twinkled. “Wow. What was that for?”

“For giving him something to live for. A reason to hope. The will to fight.” For being one very special and sensitive human being that I suspect you are but try to hide.

“Bradley’s a real fighter. Hey, I should jet before they take off without me. Although, I could handle this all day.” He grinned as if having a private joke with himself that she wasn’t privy to.

“I understand.” Even though she didn’t understand what he could handle all day. The hug, or being with Bradley? She stepped aside so he could pass. His lip twitched as if to laugh. Her action took him by surprise, for sure. She turned to watch him board.

Every man hung out the chopper doors, gawking. Heat scorched her cheeks. Joel peered back over his shoulder, disabling her motor function with a bold wink and a disarming smile that made her pulse trip.

She quickly spun away, imagining he’d be relentlessly teased. Great. They probably didn’t know her hug had only been out of thankfulness and nothing more.

Neither did her heart for that matter, for it beat over a hundred times per minute.

The choppers lifted off. Hurricane-like winds tousled leaves and bent limbs. Multicolored flowers and waxy green grass swayed as if a large invisible hand brushed back and forth across their tips.

Dust swirled in a cyclone, stinging Amber’s skin. She shut her eyes and shielded her face. Once it died down, she waved her arm to clear air in front of her and caught sight of blue. She lowered her hand to study it, momentarily blipping on what caused it. Then she realized.

Ink had transferred to her fingers and palm from the paper Joel had handed her. She scrubbed. The impression only smeared, leaving imprints everywhere she touched.

“Stupid pen.” She raked her hand along her jeans. It wouldn’t erase. She laughed.

The pen was the soldier’s problem now.

She peered around her.

Only charred cardboard remnants, firework soot and debris remained in the school yard.