A Soldier's Promise

On her trek to the entrance, Amber bent to retrieve a glass jar the bottle rockets shot from. A few more steps, and she picked up a flag from a stone bench near the garden. As she turned, something white caught her eye. Foreboding stopped her short but then the object in the middle of the fountain compelled her feet forward.

One of the toy parachutes thrust through the air with fireworks must have landed here. A bamboo plant clutched its tattered chute. Rocks wedged the plastic man. Water rolled over the side like a miniature flood, engulfing the toy.

Frozen, she studied the odd little scene.

Water. The Asian plant. A parachutist.

The flood. South India. Joel.

Amber snatched the little man from the water, hoping no one watched. It might be plastic, but she couldn’t leave it trapped underwater by the fountain’s rolling wave. She dried it on her jeans, folded up the parachute and tucked it inside her jacket.

Close to her heart.

From the Chinook, Joel watched the school until it became a tiny red dot in the distance.

“That was way cool,” Manny said above the whipping wind.

“Yeah. I’ll never forget those kids’ faces when we landed. How long you figure that little guy’s got?” Nolan’s smile faded as he shifted to face Joel.

“His teacher says he won’t make it to the end of the school year without a bone marrow transplant.” Joel used the tip of his boot to push his newly folded parachute pack against the wall.

“He really bonded with you, man.” Manny lifted his voice above the roar. “You ought to make it a point to get back there and see him.”

You promised. Joel leaned sideways, resting on an elbow. “Depends on how long we’re needed in Asia. I really liked him.”

“And his teacher?” Nolan grinned and elbowed Chance. They both stared at Joel. “Because she sure seemed to like you.”

Snickers erupted among Joel’s Special Forces buddies.

Joel just shook his head.

“You get her number, Montgomery?” Manny asked.

“That’s for me to know, Peña.” Joel leaned his head back, intent on playing possum.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Chance announced.

Next thing Joel knew, scuffling erupted. He vaulted to his feet but Nolan tackled him. SEAL Silas and PJ Chance restrained his arms.

The skirmish landed them all on the floor and garnered interesting looks from the new female pilot. Manny sat on his torso, and Nolan lunged for Joel’s chest pocket.

Muscles tensed, Joel strained and cycled his legs, making contact with flesh. Someone groaned. Good, he got one. Others pretzeled his legs with grips of titanium. Crinkling sounded as Silas jerked the letter from his pocket. Something blue flew out when Silas flipped it open.

That pen. He knew she’d slipped it in there back at the school. He’d pretended not to notice.

“Don’t rip that note or I’ll—” Freed, Joel shot to his feet, lunging for the paper.

Arms grabbed him from everywhere, netting him in.

With a victorious shout and a fist shot to the air, Silas tossed Nolan the letter.

Joel took a deep breath, then laughed during exhale because they all looked as sweaty and disheveled as he felt. At least he’d put up a good fight. They needed to break a fun sweat now and then.

Nolan opened the blue polka-dot-splotched battle prize and flicked his forefinger at Amber’s handwriting. “Told you, Peña.”

Manny took the paper, looked, then handed it to Joel.

Joel picked up the pen and tucked it in his pocket with the letter before securing a comfortable seat against the wall.

Manny slumped beside him. “It figures. You got numbers, and I got nothin’.”

Jack Chapman’s dimples popped up, bracketing a teasing smirk. “Speaking of figures, nice from what I could tell with all those baggy clothes on. Joel could give us the stats since he got closer at her than any of us.”

The other guys laughed good-naturedly.

Joel pinned them to the wall with a look, then closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, feigning sleep.

He’d never hear the end of it. Never.

The talk of women didn’t usually bother him this bad, even when some of the guys got raunchy. He’d simply walk away when the talk moved beyond PG-13. The thought of their minds tainting Amber’s innocence over a hug made him feel defensive.

Not liking his shift in loyalty, Joel rubbed his chest, right where the attraction for Amber had stemmed from. He rubbed but it wouldn’t go away. In fact, the more he thought of her, the greater it got. So he needed to stop thinking of her.

Shifting uncomfortably, he rested his other hand on his stomach, where concern had evolved into gut-deep compassion. It had been harder to leave Bradley than he’d anticipated. Still, he associated Bradley with Refuge. He wouldn’t, couldn’t go back there. You promised.

To keep his promise meant facing Refuge and his attraction to the teacher. Maybe he could just write Bradley. That would be good enough. Wouldn’t it?

A distant echo of words swarmed his mind.

You promised. They grew loud to the point he couldn’t hear anything else.

And you never break a promise, right? Whose voice whispered? Bradley? Or himself as a child pleading with an invisible mother, then for God to make her want to come home? He missed her so much it hurt beyond words. Then. Now.

Come back. You promised.

But she couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. Death took her before she could keep her promise. He didn’t want any child to go through that kind of loss. If he took the easy way out and avoided Refuge, Bradley was destined for disappointment.

Joel remembered how it felt to have childhood dreams ripped from his grasp like a favorite toy from the arms of a child in clutching need of its comfort. Every dream except one.

I want to be a PJ. Joel smiled at both the irony and the miracle. Joel’s one realized dream packed potential to fertilize a little boy’s last wish into fruition. He refused to let past hurts ruin the redemption of that child’s hope.

He opened his eyes, imploring his men to hold him to the creed of courage and accountability that bonded them as a team. “I promised the kid I’d come back.”

At his words, most of the men nodded. They settled in for the long flight, except Manny, who tugged something from his belt clip. “Ever seen one of these, Montgomery?”

Joel leaned forward and palmed the dark-colored handheld with a BlackBerry logo. “Not this brand. Thing looks pretty cool.” He started to hand it back to Manny.

Manny pushed it back to Joel with a grin. “Try it out. Since you have her e-mail address and all.”

Joel eyed the tiny keyboard and scratched his stubbled jaw. “Maybe I will. You know, to keep up with what’s going on with Bradley.”

After laughing, Manny leaned forward and showed him how to make international calls and send e-mail. “Use it anytime you want. Even once we’re there.”

“This’ll work all the way from India?”

“As long as we’re in a secure location and keep the battery charged.”

“It’ll work right now?” Joel peered around the helicopter, and the sky that carried it. “Up here?”

“When those bars light up, that means you have a valid signal.”

At least he and Amber could forge a friendship. Bradley’s plight had already bonded them. He felt it, and suspected by her spontaneous hug that she had, too.

After intense concentration, Joel typed an e-mail to her. He gathered the nerve to hit the send command before constructing a second e-mail to the students.

Joel handed the gadget back to Manny, suddenly feeling unsure about this. Was there any way to retrieve those messages?

Manny tucked it back in his hip clip. “Don’t look so scared, Montgomery.”

Joel raked a hand around the back of his neck. “I’m not scared, Peña. It’s just been a long time since I’ve…”

Just what was this? Joel clasped his hands on his knees. How could he define something he didn’t know what to call?

Two bushy black eyebrows rose. “Since you what?”

“Pursued an interest,” Joel said with honesty that he knew would leave him an open target for relentless razzing.

“As I said, feel free to use it whenever the urge strikes you.” Manny rested his head back, shutting his eyes.

Joel stretched his feet out before reclining his head back, as well. “Thanks, Peña. It will come in handy.”

One of Manny’s eyelids slid open. “For keeping up with what’s going on with Bradley.”

“Right.” Joel slid his boot across the floor to kick his snickering friend into silence.

He’d never hear the end of it.

And maybe, for once, he didn’t want to.

Chapter Four

Amber stepped into her apartment after bicycling from the grocery store Friday evening. Shoulders shrugged, her backpack clunked to the floor. Pouch unzipped, she tugged out two bulging sacks, evicting their contents on the countertop. At the rattle of plastic and clatter of cans, her cat bounded around the corner and hopped on the counter.

“Off there, Psych.” She swept him to the edge with the back of her hand. His paws screeched until his giant fuzz ball of a body lost the battle with gravity. Amber transferred everything to the fridge except the Cornish hen for dinner. She’d save leftovers for Bradley to eat on Sunday.

She put nonperishables in her school satchel, since Bradley’s foster mother couldn’t seem to remember to pack him a lunch lately.

Amber preheated the oven before surfing Illinois Foster Care online. While pages printed, she opened her e-mail.

Several new messages.

She replied to her dad’s, noticing that folder held more saved messages than any other. She thought he’d stop once she moved here, but he still e-mailed daily. “He’s trying, I’ll give him that.”

Amber groaned at the next message. “I hate those.” She deleted the forward-this-or-have-bad-luck message from someone on her teachers’ loop.

She clicked on the final message and nearly sent it there, too—then froze. Wait.

Sender: J.M.M. Subject line: Just Checking In.

Sender: J.M.M…. J.M.M.? Could it be him, and so soon? She dared to hope so. Her eyes scrolled to the bottom of the message.

Kind regards, Joel M. Montgomery, USAF

“Yes!” Unable to stifle a burst of eagerness, she glanced out the window. No neighbors watched. All clear, she allowed herself a few undignified jumps. The cat bobbed his head in sync with her motion, looking tense and prepared to flee.

“Psych! We have a cyber link to Mr. Gorgeous.” She read the first line of text. “No-oo.” Her forehead banged the pine desktop above the rollout keyboard shelf.

Her heart plunged with every word.

I hope this finds you all in good health and obeying your teachers. Please remember the people of India in your prayers. Thanks for having us at your school. The production was phenomenal. Each of my men felt honored and esteemed. Kind regards, Joel M. Montgomery, USAF.

“Ugh!” He didn’t write her—he’d e-mailed her students. Amber chastised herself for her strong reaction.

She’d had no business hoping.

“False alarm, Psych. Story of my life.” Had she imagined the fizz between them? In all her dreamy Cinderella-ness, probably. “It’s better that way anyhow, Psych. Bart shattered my glass slipper at the altar last year.”

The cat padded over and raked against her ankle.

She scratched along Psych’s ribs, then dusted orange-yellow hair off her hand. “What do you think, buddy? Is Joel just a player who flirts with all the gals?”

Amber stiffened against disappointment, and clicked through the remaining messages.

Another caught her eye. Her pulse revved at the name.

Sender: J.M.M. Subject line: Reporting For Duty, Ma’am.

She embraced the words with caution this time.

Hey, teach. Soldier Joel here. Making sure I got the right in-box. Reply if this is you. Ignore if you’re not you. Ha-Ha. How’s our little playground prince? I’m sending a second e-mail shortly for you to share with your class. Let me know if you get these. Okay, signing off to compose the other message. Cordially, JMM—USAF

She scrolled to the first message, noting the time stamp. Sure enough. The message settings inverted the order received. She’d have Bradley fix it when he came over Sunday after church. Little tech whiz could do anything with a computer. She knew just enough to pose a danger to her sanity and her hard drive.

Amber arched a brow at her cat. “Are you the culprit who messed with my settings? I saw you enthroned on my keyboard terrorizing a moth.”

Psychoticat meowed and curved his back under her fingers as she scratched. Amber suppressed the urge to sneeze. She had a feeling Psych’s hair caused the allergies. But she couldn’t bear to give him up since he’d been abandoned as a kitten.

Amber smiled in anticipation of the children’s glee when she shared Joel’s e-mail with them Monday. She hit Reply, then typed:

Last time I checked, I was me. Are you still you? Oven beep summons a hen basted in honey and oranges—a meal fit for a playground prince whose kingdom is Cloud 9 thanks to G.I. Joel and his fearless friends. Will forward your other message to my students. Must go. Oven dirty. Particles burning and stinky. Fire alarm makes Psychoticat more neurotic than usual. Warmly, Amber M. Stanton

Twelve hours and two time zones later put Joel’s team in Paris, France, the halfway mark to Mumbai where they would catch another flight to the Indian coastline near Cochin.

Manny plopped in one of the airport’s lounge seats beside Joel and elbowed him.

Joel looked over. Manny shoved the BlackBerry back in Joel’s hand. “Use it again. You know you want to.”

“I think I’ll wait until she e-mails me back. Thanks.”

A grin overtook the squat and stout PJ’s brown face. “Maybe she did.”

Joel narrowed his gaze, looked at Manny then the device. “Gimme that Blueberry.”

“BlackBerry. Don’t worry. I didn’t read it.” Manny stretched the handheld out again. Joel reached for it.

Manny eased it back. “Unless you want me to…”

“Hey—” Joel stood, prepared to wrestle the thing from him if need be. Manny jerked it back a few more times as Joel grasped at it. Finally, Manny handed it over.

Joel took the teasing and the BlackBerry without preamble. He pulled up her message, trying not to show outwardly how much it meant to him that she’d responded.

“What did she say?” Manny scooted over and leaned in, straining to read the small text in the window.

Joel tilted the screen at an angle so his friend could see.

Manny nodded and tapped Joel’s forearm with the stylus. “We’re in Paris. You ought to go buy her something. That kid, too. Chicks like romance and flowers and stuff. Especially rare, exotic gifts from other countries.”

Chapman tipped his cowboy hat. “Get her a beaded Indian sari.”

PJ Vince Reardon smirked. “Nah. Save some cash. Bring her back a parasite instead. They’re exotic.”

Joel shook his head. “I’ll hit the shops on the way back to the States since we’re on standby for the next flight. We need to stick together. I don’t want to get stuck in a checkout line.”

Manny yawned. “You did good yesterday, Montgomery. I’m proud of you.” He sprawled in a seat at the stainless steel aesthetic DeGaulle Airport. Other teams went by military craft, but since they’d deployed from Illinois, the government flew them domestic.

“It was harder than I’d anticipated. But it helped that I had the distraction of Bradley.” A pretty teacher, too. “Only at one point did I feel myself slipping.” He hoped it wouldn’t hit him after the fact. He didn’t need to be a train wreck heading into South Asia.

Manny leaned forward, clasping his hands in listen mode. “Yeah, when was that?”

“In the playground. You know I went to that school for a few years when I was a kid, right?”

Manny shook his head. “Ah, man. No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, my mom—she used to take me there and swing me. That was the last thing we ever did together.” Joel swallowed and cast a hard stare at the BlackBerry. He thought of Amber’s determined quest to find Bradley’s mom.

How many times had he prayed as a child for someone who wouldn’t give up until they found his mother? How many nights had he cried himself to sleep missing her? Wishing he could at least have an answer? He’d prayed and prayed for God to bring her home but the only thing that came was news there had been a car accident. His mother had died but longing lived on for someone to tell his deepest fears and craziest dreams to. Someone to be real with.

Someone like Amber.

“Bradley’s blessed to have her. She’s good for him.” Joel cleared his throat to rid himself of the emotion. He wouldn’t let it crack him again. He’d lived broken as a child because he had no choice. As a man, he had a choice. He would avoid anything with potential to breach the dam walling his past from his present.

That included Refuge, and everything in it.

Joel coughed, but the elastic band wouldn’t ease from his chest. He hadn’t felt like this in fifteen years, and he hoped for another fifteen at least before he had to feel anything like it again. The pressure made it hard to breathe.

Manny eyed him with unwavering intent. “I think it’ll be good for you to keep that promise. She could be good for you. You’ve never dealt with that junk with your mom and your uncle, dude. And you need to.”

“I’ll keep my promise to Bradley, Peña.” Don’t expect more.

“I know you will. And then some.” Manny leaned back.

Joel tapped the keyboard to compose a message.

After sending it, Joel stared at the blank screen while Manny’s mantra rang in the ears of his soul. I know you will. And then some. These guys held each other to the same stellar code of standards. Above and beyond, no matter what. On missions, in personal lives. When everyone looked, or no one.

Integrity. The creed didn’t stop when the missions did.

They didn’t make promises without intent to bulldoze mountains if that’s what it took to keep them. Even Everest with a Barbie Jeep if that’s what it required to maintain the pristine field of their word, and they’d all taken the creed together.

So Others Might Live.

He hoped he wasn’t walking into a God trap. Surely He wouldn’t expect Joel to confront the hurts of his past and the person responsible for them before he felt ready. Right?

Joel pressed thumbs to his temple, steeling himself against the insurgence of silence which advanced heavily on his mind. He listened for the question which carried a cavernous echo for an answer.

Truth was, he didn’t know if he had courage enough to face it. His biggest fear had always been backing down from something.

Help me. I don’t want to let him down, or You.

He’d keep his promise to Bradley. No matter what.

No matter what.

A vague sensation wrapped around him that this promise would be severely tested. His job consisted of life-or-death danger. He didn’t want to die before he fulfilled his promise to that fragile child who’d undoubtedly been placed in his path for a reason.

Joel settled in his seat and closed his eyes.

Don’t let me run, no matter what comes.

Chapter Five

Saturday morning, Amber approached her computer with a glass of high-pulp orange juice, a wheat bagel and a tote brimming with foster care information. She sat in the cushy blue chair, pulling up her in-box. Two new messages. She felt doubly blessed. One from her dad. One from Joel. Proving to herself she could have self-control, she opened her dad’s first.

Then opened Joel’s, a smile going through her.

Greetings from Paris. We’re halfway to our destination. Not sure how much opportunity I’ll have to e-mail once we arrive but don’t think I forgot about Bradley. Or my promise. Or you. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away. I’ll keep in touch as able. Tell Psychokitty to watch his back. I’m armed and dangerous. Ever been to France? Food’s great. Really made my day to hear back from you. This e-mail stuff is amazing. Talk to you soon. JMM—USAF.

“Better watch out, Psych. He’s armed and dangerous.” Her comment drew a blank stare from the cat. “More like charmed and dangerous.” Amber sighed at her computer screen.

The cat scrambled across the kitchen, paw-skiing the smooth tile surface before skidding to a halt in front of the food dish. He looked from the bowl to Amber and flicked his tail.

“I know. I forgot to buy tuna yesterday. You’ll have to settle for chicken.” She got up and grabbed a can of soft cat food from the pantry. Fingernails lifting the tab, she peeled off the aluminum top expecting Psych to rush over and rub her ankle as usual. He did that when any can was opened, even green beans.

This time he only stared, and flicked. She tapped chicken into the bowl, then ran her finger around the can to get remnants out.

While Amber washed her hands, the cat hunched its shoulders and sniffed. He lifted his head, hissed at her, hissed at the food, then sashayed to the laundry room.

After glaring at the moody creature’s back, she typed a reply to Joel:

Paris? Did you see the Notre Dame Cathedral or the Eiffel Tower? I’ve always wanted to. You’re probably world traveled. I’ve only lived two places—California and Illinois. Never been outside the U.S. Probably never will. I know you’re short on time, so I’ll sign off. Thanks for everything you did for Bradley. PS: You’re nobody until you’ve been ignored by a bipolar cat. Kindly, AMS—

Amber drummed her fingers on the desk. USAF stood for U.S. Air Force. What could she put? She phoned Celia. “He e-mailed me.” Amber held the phone back from Celia’s loud kudos. “Now that you’ve blown out my eardrums, help me brainstorm a four-letter acronym to put behind my initials.”

“Give him a riddle to figure out,” Celia said.

Amber had it. “Apartment on Sonnet Drive.” She added AOSD to her e-mail and then sent the message. Call ended, Amber gathered her keys and the tote of foster care stuff for her mom to help with, since Lela’s profession involved legal paperwork.

Past the last stoplight out of town and nearing the guard towers flanking the government road leading to the non-mapped Eagle Point Military Base which Refuge secretly housed, Amber’s cell rang. Celia’s number popped up.

“Heard from him yet?”

Amber turned on the gravel road that would take her the half hour to her parents’ place. “I doubt it. It’s been what, a half hour?”

Celia clicked her tongue. “You mean you don’t know if he e-mailed you back yet or not? Don’t you check your e-mail?”

A deer darted across the road several yards ahead. Amber slowed. “Not while I’m in the car, and certainly not fifty times a day.” Not that she’d admit.

“If I had someone that cute in possession of my e-mail address, I’d chain myself to the computer. You know there are cell phones with e-mail plans, right? You better tell me when he e-mails you again.”

“If he e-mails me again.”

“When.” Motorized gurgling. Then brutal clinking sounded, such as a spoon dying in the sink disposal. Silence. “And I want some serious details. In fact, forward the e-mails to me.” More sink drain gurgling.

Amber laughed. “Not on your life.” She approached a curve, scanned the tree-lined road for critters, then accelerated.

“He’ll keep in touch.”

“I don’t know about that, but I hope he at least stays in touch with Bradley.”

“When you get legal guardianship, that’ll be convenient. How’s that coming along?” Scraping sounds. Liquid sloshing.

“Mom’s judge friend says there’s not enough proof to get Bradley out of there.”

Celia grumbled. “Her sending him to school every day with an empty lunch box isn’t proof? Come on. She knows this school is bring-your-lunch-only while they’re remodeling the kitchen. Even if we were serving hot lunches, I doubt she’d send him with money.” Faucet thump. Water off.