Читать книгу A Soldier's Promise - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 11

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.

“I know. It takes time. These are serious accusations. We have to keep documenting. In the meantime, pray for his well-being and safety. I hate the thought of him not getting decent meals. Also, Bradley’s doctor pulled me aside at the market. He confided he has reason to suspect Foster Lady’s not giving Bradley his meds. If he proves it, he can have her court-ordered to administer them.”

The sound of liquid spraying in spurts. “That’s horrible. He needs to gain weight and have both proper nutrition and the treatments in order to stay eligible for the transplant, right?”

“Right.”

“Where is he in that process?”

“Moving up. Closer to finding a donor.”

“I’d abduct him if I were you.”

Amber laughed, knowing Celia kidded. Still, she was really glad the FBI didn’t have a tap on her line.

“When Bradley’s oncologist voiced his concerns, believe me, it tempted me. But I can’t help him if I’m sitting in jail. He said if Bradley’s levels don’t rise, he’ll have him admitted to be sure he stays medicated. We have to hurry up and wait. And pray.”

“And pray.” Water off, then on. Something metal plunked against stainless steel. A large splash.

“I better let you go before you drop the phone in the water and electrocute yourself. Besides, I’m in a lowsignal area. Cel? Hello?”

“Amb, you’re cutting out. Anyway, I said if prayer doesn’t work, I’ll help you devise a plan to kidnap Bradley and—”

She lost the call in the deep country roads. No cell towers out here, just soybean fields and forests dense with poison ivy. She’d be able to reach Celia up ahead.

Once there, her phone rang as she went to flip it open. Amber switched it from speaker to earpiece and hit Talk. “Beat me to the draw. You better hope the FBI isn’t listening in. They’ll take us both to jail.”

A heavy silence invaded the phone, then a huff of air and deep, masculine laughter. Amber nearly ran off the road.

“Do I want to know?” Joel asked.

“Hey! No. Sorry. I thought you were Celia.”

“She’s shorter than me.”

Amber laughed, surprised how it pleased her to hear Joel’s voice. He probably called for an update on Bradley.

“How’s Bradley?”

She knew it. “He’s doing great. You really made an impression. His caseworker phoned to tell me he hasn’t stopped talking about you since Friday.” I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either.

Amber tapped a finger to her forehead to the beat of her CD. Stop. Stop. Stop. Last thing you need is another heartache.

“What about you?” Joel asked.

It took her a second to figure out the last thing she said. Her thoughts rang so loud, she sometimes couldn’t remember if her mind or her mouth spoke last. “I’m fine.”

“That you are.”

Was he flirting? She fanned herself, hating the giddy factor. “How are you?”

“You tell me.”

She refused to bite. Obviously he flirted with all girls or he wouldn’t be so suave at it. A sick feeling roiled inside. Leave it to her to be attracted to a womanizer. Yet so much of what she’d glimpsed of his character spoke of the opposite. “I may lose you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m getting into an area of low signal. Let me pull over.”

“Just stay safe, Amber.”

Amber. He’d called her Amber. Not Miss Stanton. “I’m not on the interstate. About the only thing that could get me out here is a raccoon.”

“Out here?”

“I’m heading to my parents’ fishing pond.”

“Do you fish?”

“I love it.”

“So do I. Don’t get to as much as I’d like. I plan to retire in eight years. I hope to have more time then.”

“Wow. Eight years? How old are you?”

“Thirty. That puts me in until I’m thirty-eight. I’ll have twenty years because they counted my ROTC in high school and college. My dream is to be a skydiving instructor for civilians and new recruits since I’ll be old and decrepit.”

“Thirty-eight is hardly decrepit.”

“For a Special Forces soldier, thirty borders on geriatric. Forty’s ancient. Fifty’s antique. And sixty is not happening. They want the young pups in there who still feel invincible and whose knees don’t creak when they sneak up on the enemy.”

Amber laughed. “I hear rumors they have skydiving instructors at Eagle Point. You could come back to your old stomping ground.”

Why had she blurted that mindless suggestion? “Not a chance.”

A little ping of disappointment hit her with his rapid-fire response, which boldly shot down her idea with zero hesitation.

Wanting to keep things light, Amber’s mind grasped for straws from her wit arsenal. “You could fish sooner than eight years, ya know.”

“Is that right?”

Relief hit her that she could hear the smile in his voice again. “That’s right. When you make it back to visit Bradley, you two can fish at the pond. Bradley loves it.”

“Is the pond in Refuge?”

Her words had stripped all humor from his. Way to go, Stanton. Keep batting foul balls and run him right out of the park. But that’s what she wanted, right? Safe! Yeah, right. Maybe in baseball. The guy’s smile was lethal alone.

“Refuge address, but out of town,” she answered.

“That’s good. That might work.” His tone seemed thoughtful now. What an odd statement.

“You’d come with us, right?” he asked.

“Sure, if you want.” Did he just ask her out? Or had he simply been polite and included her, since it happened to be her parents’ place? And why did she dare even hope, after the heartache she stumbled out of last year? She wished she were more experienced with this sort of thing. According to her track record, she seemed destined for failure where relationships were concerned. “However, if you need some alone time with Bradley, I can just give you directions.”

“No way. If I’m there, you’re there. I’d love to see you again. Plus, I’ll need a little moral support when I can get free to make it back. You know how I have that aversion to Refuge.”

The hollow echo in his voice floated through her heart. His transparency caught her off guard. “I remember. So, how did you come to know about Bradley’s letter?”

“I’m the PJ he mentioned who grew up there. That’s why Dream Corps contacted me.”

“I didn’t know that. They kept the whole ordeal hidden from me beyond the note and phone call. Celia knew you guys were surprising Bradley and me, so she and the other staff put together the production to welcome you.”

“It was awesome. My guys still talk about it. Celia, she’s the Hispanic-looking teacher, right?”

“Yeah, the firecracker.”

He laughed. “I wasn’t gonna say it. She married?”

“Why, you interested?” Traitorous disappointment pinged her stomach again.

Another laugh. “No, but my buddy Manny might be.”

“Celia is dead set against getting involved with men in dangerous jobs. She lost her husband in the line of duty as a cop. Her goal is to steer clear of guys packing heat, and go for ones packing calculators instead. She also wants to date a Christian.”

“Then I won’t encourage it. Manny is a backslider and running on the wild side right now.”

If Joel was using Christian lingo, could he be a believer? She’d gotten the feeling at school that he was. Then again, so was Bart, and he still bashed her heart to pieces.

“What about you? What are your life goals, Amber?”

To have a baby. “Something that will never happen.”

“Come on. Tell me. I told you mine.”

“Maybe in time.”

“Well, whatever you dream for, I hope it comes true.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, I need sleep, and you need to escape the clutches of that rabid teacher-eating coon sneaking up behind you.”

“Very funny.”

His chuckle eased her tensions. “Did you look?”

She still was. “I’ll never tell.” Her eyes slipped away from her rearview mirror.

“Fair enough. I’ll be in touch. Later, tater.”

She smiled, touched that he’d remember her and Bradley’s special exchange. “Later, gator.”

The only thing Amber could think about as she drove the remaining miles was how pleasant Joel’s voice sounded, and how Bart had never once called and e-mailed her on the same day.

It’s just for Bradley, she told herself.

On her mom’s patio five hours later, Amber eyed her watch. “I should go soon. Psychoticat is out of tuna and on a hunger strike. The market closes in two hours.”

“Dad will be home in a few minutes. Can’t you stay a bit?”

“Is he getting off early?”

“Yes.” Lela’s face flushed. “We’re going out tonight.”

Amber stared at her. “Like, on a date?”

“Yes. You should never stop dating your spouse.” She tugged Amber close for a hug. “Thank you for sharing the day with me, and what that nice young man did for our little Bradley, giving him that beret and all.”

“Mom, he’s not our little Bradley. Things might not go through. If they do, it may be too l—”

Lela placed a gentle finger to Amber’s lips. “It’s never too late when God is in the equation. So does this soldier happen to be attractive?”

“You sound like Celia.” Amber fanned herself with a stack of napkins and stood. “Yes. He’s what I would consider attractive.”

“Is he a Christian?” Lela motioned Amber down.

Amber sat. “His faith seems genuine.”

“Are you interested?” Lela refilled Amber’s tea.

Glass to her mouth, Amber let the sweet liquid linger on her tongue. No one made sun tea better than her mom. “In friendship.”

“That’s a good foundation.” Lela smiled behind her glass.

“Don’t count on it going anywhere.” Amber swirled the ice in her glass. “Is this sugar?”

“Sweetener. Why just friendship if you were the only one at the school that day with whom he flirted?” Lela’s eyes twinkled with wisdom and motherly mischief.

The glass in Amber’s hand clunked down a smidgen too hard. “I’m going to throttle Celia.”

“Oh, spare her life another day. She only told me a little. Plus, we have a Cupid conspiracy.” Lela winked.

“Is nothing in my life private from you two?”

“Of course not, dear. What’s the fun in that?”

Off the stool now, Amber placed her glass on the tray. “On that note, I’m out of here. Give Daddy hugs for me.”

Lela stood, peering at her watch. “Why don’t you wait five minutes and he’ll be home? I’m sure he’d love his hugs directly from you.”

“I used to be the family peacemaker. Now it’s you.”

“I prefer the term moderator. Your dad regrets not being there for you all those years. If life provided second chances, his choices would be different. So would mine. We were young and kids don’t come with instructions in the box.”

Amber laughed.

“I regret putting you in the middle. You should have had a carefree childhood, not being a full-time ambassador working peace negotiations between the two people supposed to be taking care of you instead of arguing.”

Amber shrugged. “You were like a single mom with Dad gone all the time. Which is precisely why I want my future adoptive children to have a dad with a stationary job.”

She expected her mother to comment, but Lela stood silent. The kind of silent which usually meant she didn’t agree with Amber, but wanted to let her figure it out on her own.

Her father pulled up. She met him ascending the porch steps.

“You leaving already?” He set his briefcase down.

“I have to get to the market before it closes. Psych’s out of tuna and freaking out.”

He laughed. After visiting several moments, he walked Amber to her car and opened the door for her. He leaned in for a hug. Amber hated that she patted him awkwardly.

“Be careful. Deer are moving. Hunting weekend has them spooked,” he said as she got in her car. He pushed her door closed. Then he rested his hand on the glass a moment, as though cupping her chin through the transparent barrier the way he used to when she was little before they’d drifted apart emotionally.

Halfway back to town, Amber rolled her window down.

“Deer aren’t the only things wigging out, Lord. Not only am I learning how to relate to Dad, Cupid’s henchmen are moving in for the kill where Joel’s concerned. I don’t know whether to flee or fling up a white flag. I’m glad You know what You’re doing, because, though I’m not one to let feelings lead me around by a leash, I sure don’t feel ready for this new season, whatever it brings.”