Читать книгу A Soldier's Promise - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 8

As Joel knelt on clean-shaven lawn, Bradley’s eyes widened through bottle-thick glasses perched haphazardly atop his nose. His eyes traveled up Joel’s body.

His mouth gaped like the nine-pound bass Joel hooked yesterday. “Whoa! Dude! Who’re you?”

Joel offered his hand. “Senior Airman Joel Montgomery, little sir. You must be Bradley.”

Awe and trepidation flowed over the child’s gaunt face. “H-how do you know my name?” He shook Joel’s hand, pumping as if it were the handle of a water well.

Joel grinned, tapping the patriotic sticker on the boy’s bony chest. “Says so right here.”

Bradley’s gaze hit the sticker the way heat seekers locked on target. He lifted his shirt, twisting material to view it. “A flag tag! With my name!” His gaze skittered to Joel’s shoulders. He stuck a tiny finger out and poked his bicep. “Are those real muscles?” Poke. Poke. Poke. “They are! Dang!”

“This is a private Christian school, kiddo. You sure you’re supposed to be saying that kinda word around here?” Joel asked.

Bradley jerked his head around, rapidly scanning the perimeter as if they’d just come under heavy enemy fire. “N-no. I ain’t supposed to. Good thing the playground patrol’s not—”

“Right behind you, Bradley?”

Bradley stiffened as if stabbed in the caboose with a bayonet. The sweet-timbred voice belonged to a very attractive woman with night vision–green eyes. He flashed his best grin and offered a hand to her. “Joel Montgomery.”

She reached forward. “Amber Stanton.”

From the air, he’d mistaken her for a student because of her petite frame. Closer observation confirmed she was all woman. He continued the handshake past the edge of proper, enjoying the flush that crept up her neck.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. How do you know this brave guy?” Joel tousled Bradley’s hair, which lay unusually sparse in places.

“I’m his teacher.”

So this is her.

Joel rose to face the reason he was here today. Her phone call had deployed six military units to a hundred-student school in a middle-of-nowhere town.

“So, you’re the one.”

She started at his words. He wondered about the blush invading her cheeks until he realized how his statement could have been misconstrued. He dipped his chin to his chest, laughing at himself. Half-embarrassed, he looked back up. “You’re the one…who called Dream Corps?”

She laughed then nodded. “I am.” She smiled again. Cute mouth. Nice teeth. The kind that spoke of parents who’d forked over some hefty dough to orthodontists.

“Miss Stanton, you knew about all this?” Bradley’s words rode out on the winds of an awe-induced whisper.

The riot of auburn curls framing her ivory face bounced as she looked from Joel to Bradley. Childlike mischief frolicked in her eyes as she surrendered a secret wink to Joel. “Not exactly.”

He admired the way she pretended not to notice how hard Bradley attempted to simultaneously push his shoulders up and his chest out as far as Joel’s. The jerky movement came out looking more like a barnyard bird with Parkinson’s.

Joel watched her study Bradley, enthralled with the level of loving care in her eyes.

Eyes that seemed to glow with interest when they came to rest on Joel. He bit down on his cheek to keep from grinning over the possibility of the attraction being mutual.

Pink infused her cheeks when he didn’t break his focus except to travel lazily down to her left ring finger before returning to her face again. The gesture was far from covert, as he’d intended to gauge her reaction.

Her blush deepened. Butterfly-delicate hands fluttered across her forehead before coming to rest atop Bradley’s shoulders. “Shall we walk?”

Bradley clasped her hand, then Joel’s. He had the feeling she’d wanted to slip out from under his assessing gaze but Bradley trapped her. He grinned. This couldn’t have worked out better had he planned it himself. The threesome trekked past soldiers talking with huddles of enthralled students.

Around the east side of the school Bradley led them through a garden gate to a huge oak tree. An anklet of yellow flowers surrounded it. Bradley pointed to one whose color seemed muted. “That’s mine. Planted it myself.”

“Each student in class planted one,” Amber explained.

Another teacher motioned Bradley to the gate.

Joel remained beside Amber. Concern troubled her expression as she eyed Bradley’s flower, then the ones flanking it. Joel brushed fingers along the droopy petals. “Hey, I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”

She blinked and smiled. “It shocked me to see the wilted condition of his compared to the others.”

Joel pushed his fingers in the soil surrounding Bradley’s flower, then eyed the other stems intently. “I’m no botany expert but my mother was an avid gardener before she died. She taught me a thing or two. Seems to me Bradley’s isn’t planted in the soft dirt like the rest. If it doesn’t perk up, maybe transplant it into better soil so it can take root and be healthy. It might thrive then.”

“Thank you.” Amber stood, tracking Bradley, who grinned at them from the gate. “I think he’s waiting for us.”

Joel chuckled. “I think so.”

The fence chinked as Bradley bounced against it. “Miss Muñez says a special show is coming.”

“Okay, catch a bathroom break and take your seat with the other students,” Amber said.

Joel adjusted his waterproof Luminox watch with the PJ emblem and motto So Others Might Live engraved on the band and peered at the face. Ten minutes until the hour.

“Where’d you get that cool watch?” Bradley turned Joel’s wrist around, peering intently at it.

Joel slid his cuff up. “It was a gift from one of my boys.”

Bradley’s shoulders slumped and his grip on Joel’s wrist slackened. “Wow. Your kid sure is lucky. How many you got?”

Joel caught Bradley’s hand before he pulled it away. “I don’t have children. By boys, I meant one of my teammates.” Joel gave Bradley’s hand a comforting squeeze as compassion for the little guy consumed him.

“You gonna have any kids?” Bradley swung their arms back and forth like a hand clasp pendulum.

Miss Stanton put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Bradley, it’s not polite to ask personal questions.”

Joel looked at her and shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.” He met Bradley’s gaze once more. “I don’t think being a dad is in God’s plans for me, buddy.”

Bradley squished up his nose. “Why not?”

“Enough, Bradley.” Miss Stanton’s voice carried a sternness that made even Joel perk up.

Bradley dipped his head. “Sorry, sir.”

Joel inched Bradley’s chin up with his finger. “No sweat, buddy. It’s all good, but I think it’s okay that you know. I didn’t have great examples for parents so I’d probably be no good at it.”

It struck Joel suddenly that his uncle Dean had been more of a father figure than Joel’s dad had been. Joel hadn’t thought about that in years. He certainly didn’t want to start thinking about it now. Despite Joel trying to sweep thoughts of Dean from his mind, they clung like stubborn dust.

The latent question of years ago resurfaced. Why had Dean gone out of his way for Joel? Were his actions motivated by guilt for cheating on Joel’s dad with his mother?

Or was there something else?

No matter. Joel had little mercy for a man who trampled on another man’s wedding vows. He didn’t want to disappoint Bradley in case the kid got some wild notion about hoping Joel would want him. A career military dad was the last thing this kid needed. He relinquished Bradley’s hand.

“Will I get to talk to you again?” Bradley asked in a small voice and twisted his shirt hem.

Miss Stanton smoothed his fidgety hands down.

“Of course. I’ll be here all day unless something happens. Tell you what. Save me a seat after the show and I’ll sit next to you. I’d feel honored if you’d be my best buddy today.”

Bradley’s face ignited with joy. “Cool! Did you hear that, Miss Stanton? He wants me to be his best buddy today! I’m going to be a PJ just like Joel when I grow up. A man of integ—”

“Integrity,” Miss Stanton enunciated. Pain flashed across her face with Bradley’s words. Joel doubted Bradley saw because she quickly hedged it. He determined to put his prayer pedal to the metal so that Bradley would get to grow up.

“Integrenary.” Bradley skewed his face.

“In. Teg. Rit. Tee,” she repeated. “Bathroom, tater.”

“Okay, gator.” Bradley ambled toward the building with an unsteady gait.

“You sure he’ll make it up those steps without falling?” Joel eyed Bradley until double steel doors swallowed him.

“Probably not, but he’d be mortally wounded with embarrassment if I helped him in front of the other students. Mr. Montgomery, I apologize for Bradley’s personal questions. He hasn’t been raised with the best of manners or social skills.”

Joel shrugged. “Kid’s just curious. Besides, it’s no secret to those who know me that having children is not on the radar for me.” Joel wanted to laugh at the curious look that flashed in the teacher’s eyes. It seemed to him that kids usually just spoke aloud what adults only had the guts to think.

He considered that he felt so mesmerized by her a blessing. Without knowing, she was keeping his mind off why he hated this town so much. It also helped that the school sat miles from the house on Haven Street. The spot where his life had unraveled, beginning with the breakup of his parents’ marriage and ending with his mother’s desertion of him. Then the fatal accident on her way back that snuffed out her life, and his hope of ever seeing her again.

Joel scanned the streets past the school yard where he’d worn out many sneakers and bicycle tires. Some good times, yeah. But the bad overshadowed and overtook them. In short, this wretched place haunted him with too many painful questions.

The only person with answers was the last person Joel ever wanted to speak to or see again. Questions like why his mom had been on her way back to Refuge from wherever she’d gone after abandoning him at age seven. Was it to come get Joel as she promised? Or even better, to reconcile her marriage so they could be a family again as he’d prayed and imagined night and day for three years?

“I understand you were born in Refuge. Do you come back here often?” Amber’s gentle voice tapped into his thoughts. Joel blinked a moment, figuring out how long he’d been staring like a lost astronaut into space, probably with a hopeless expression that matched the dismal chasm this town opened in him. His teammates had been right. This was tougher than he’d anticipated. He didn’t like not being in total control of his emotions and thoughts. He pondered how to answer her.

“You’re right. I was born here.” He hated the crack in his voice and forced a smile he didn’t feel.

He could tell by her concerned expression that she wasn’t fooled by the hedging veneer.

Another part of his mind rippled with pleasure that she had retained that bit of personal information about him. Her smile and soft voice eased the sadness of missing his mother. He cleared his throat. “I don’t recall hearing the Stanton name growing up here. So what about you? What brought you to Refuge?”

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?