A Soldier's Promise [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Rebecca Joyce

  “No, I expect you to be vigilant. We are not in some city with a hospital down the street. This is the jungle, the Amazon rainforest to be exact. There are more infections, parasites, and ways to die in this place than any other place on earth. Just be careful. And, Mitchell,” Matthew said, signaling him out, “lower your sleeves. They will protect your skin. We better hurry, because our guide only gave us two hours before he takes off.”

  “Are you kidding me!” Marcus growled.

  “In two hours this place will become darker than the night, Marcus. That’s when all the creatures come out to play, and we don’t want to be here when that happens. So let’s just go find our brother and get him the hell out of here, okay?”

  Before either of them could reply, Matthew turned quickly at the sound of something approaching quickly from deep within the forest. Just as he and his brothers reached for their guns, the disturbance burst through the thick vegetation.

  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” Marcus shouted. “I don’t get to shoot anyone?”

  “Well, that was easy enough.” Matthew grinned, holstering his weapon.

  “You shit for brains!” Mitchell yelled. “When you call in the cavalry, the honorable thing to do is wait to be rescued.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The days slowly rolled by, and before Annabelle knew it, the first day of school had finally arrived. To say that she was anxious was obvious, because she was, but for other reasons besides school. However, she was ready to think of something other than the whereabouts and safety of Mason. She needed control and the mundane, more than worry. Of course, thinking and doing were not as easy, especially when she was trying to get her heart to believe that everything was going to be okay. She now knew how her great aunt had felt when her son was missing in action while serving in Vietnam. With 3,753 men and women still missing today in Vietnam, there was still no word to his whereabouts. Though what remained of her family hoped that someday they would be given word about his situation, dead or alive, they had learned to accept his Missing-in-Action status and had moved on, but had never forgotten.

  She grew up knowing that she had a cousin still fighting for his life in Asia, but it wasn’t until her uncle, her mother’s brother, enlisted that she realize the depth of worry her family endured during that time not so long ago. To have a loved one go and fight for his or her country was humbling. To have that person returned was a relief, but not to know whether that person was alive or dead was intolerable.

  With Mason missing, all those memories and worries were brought back to the fold, and she needed something, anything to hang onto. Without school, she knew she would fall apart. Therefore, she put on a smile and started gathering her things.

  “Andrew, we have to go!” she shouted, trying to get her son to move faster. Even Andrew was feeling the effects of her worries as he’d become quieter than usual. Her lively, talkative son had withdrawn into himself, and she worried that she had made a mistake by letting Mason into their lives. It was one thing for her to feel the effects of a loved one gone, but her son was something different. Though Andrew had a different way of compartmentalizing his feelings, he shouldn’t have to add something that he had no control over. For an autistic child like Andrew, it was hard enough just being human and trying to fit in. Add in the drama and emotions of a missing loved one, and well, it was enough to drive even a normal person crazy.

  With keys in hand, she opened the front door and yelled once more for her son. “Andrew we have to go!”

  “I’m coming,” he replied, making his way down the hall. When she saw him, she was about to say something but quickly forgot what it was, for her son stood before her wearing a green T-shirt, a pair of camouflage cargo pants that were tucked into his black hacking boots, and an Army cap that Mason had given him.

  “Wow, um, you look different. What happened to the khakis and the blue shirt I laid out for you to wear?” she asked, not sure how to proceed with his choice of clothing.

  “I wanted to wear this,” he firmly said, looking directly at her.

  “Why?”

  “Because when I get older, I am going to join the Army so I can find Mason,” Andrew stated as if it were fact as he marched out the front door with his Marvel Comic backpack over his shoulder. It was then, at that moment, Annabelle remembered her mother telling her to “pick your battles, sweetheart,” and this was not one she felt like fighting. Sighing, she shut the front door and headed off to enjoy the first day of school.

  * * * *

  Chaos. That’s all she could really say about what she was seeing. Children were running around, yelling, screaming, laughing, and some were crying as parents tried desperately to find their assigned classrooms, and those were the upper grades. After helping Andrew to his classroom, she headed off to hers, only her class was worse.

  Her classroom was under siege. If ever there were a moment when a parent knew their children were going to win, it was now, but Annabelle wasn’t a parent at the moment, she was the teacher. Walking into her classroom, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had heard of strong willed and determined, but when it was in the form of a five-year-old little girl with raven-black hair wearing a pink dress with boots, that was something else. There she stood, on her little chair, barking orders as if she was the general and the students were her soldiers. What made everything more remarkable was that she had the parents doing her bidding. Yet, right before her, a hulking man tried to talk her down.

  Parents…they never learn.

  Dropping her bags at her desk, she waded through the throngs of screaming ankle-biters and lightly tapped the father on his shoulder. “Can I be of assistance?”

  “Oh, thank God.” Michael sighed in relief as if the United States cavalry had just arrived on white steeds and armed to the hilt. The father stepped back, and with one stern look at the mutinous mob, she had immediate silence. Turning her attention back to the leader of the rebellion, she looked the young instigator up and down, and when their eyes met, it became a battle of will. Annabelle knew the drill.

  Show no fear.

  First one to blink loses.

  Win, and gain the respect of the leader, and then its hostile-takeover time.

  The silence in the room was eerie, as all watched the battle of wills. Only one would be victorious today, and the winner would have total control for the whole school year.

  She had learned in college that every school year there was a new rise to power, and every school year, she needed to be prepared for battle. Every year was going to be different. She was trained and ready, she would win this battle. Annabelle gave the instigator props. The little girl was good, but Annabelle was better.

  Seconds ticked by, and just like all the times before, the rebellion was over. The leader had blinked. Smiling, Annabelle held out her hand to the little girl and said, “Good job, Abby. You were a worthy opponent.”

  “Grandpa taught me. He said I was the best!” Abigail replied, shaking her hand.

  “Uh huh, and which grandpa would that be, Abigail, Armstrong or Clark?”

  “I don’t know any Clark, but I know a judge!” She smiled mischievously and winked as she hopped down from the chair, heading over to her father. Yep, Annabelle was getting her first taste of what it was going to be like working for the judge.

  “All right, students, if you will please find your seats. You will find nametags on each of the desks. Look for your name, and take a seat. Parents, you are more than welcome to help your child. All supplies can be put on the back table, marked school supplies. All medical, allergy, and prescription forms, please hand to me. As soon as you help your young scholar get settled, please give them a hug and a kiss good-bye. We all have a fun day ahead of us, and the sooner we get started, the sooner you can see how much your child has learned,” she announced when there was some order to her classroom.

  The first warning bell rang five minutes later, and like every first day before this one, the t
ears started to fall. It was one thing to console a small child who was going to be away from its parent, but when an adult shed tears, well, Annabelle drew the line at consoling them. After the first week of school, those tearful parents couldn’t wait to drop their young student off. Typically, they would also be the first to arrive in the morning and the last to pick up in the afternoon. When the last parent hugged and kissed their child for the millionth time, and she heard the last I love you and be good speech for the day, Annabelle closed her classroom door and started her day.

  By first break, Annabelle felt like ripping her hair out. Unlike city schools, where the elementary, middle, and high school students were all in separate buildings, the Cedar Creek School housed the lower-level and middle-level grades. The high school kids were bussed over to the next county. Since the county mainly consisted of ranchers and farmers, the city council felt there was no need for two primary schools. So, coordinating lunch, recess, and other activities was strictly enforced to maintain order, and by nine fifteen, it was the kindergarten class’s time for a twenty-minute recess.

  After lining up her little geniuses, they silently walked—well, as silently as five- and six-year-olds can—out to the back of the school where the playground equipment was. There Annabelle handed over her students to one of the assistant physical education teachers, giving her twenty minutes of blessed silence as she made a beeline for the teachers’ lounge and a fresh cup of coffee.

  As the day wore on, she kept herself busy with mundane things, like coloring, story time, and grammar. Before she knew it, lunchtime had arrived.

  Thank God!

  With her class chowing down like the ravenous minions they were, she stole away back to her classroom and sighed in relief, because she knew that after lunch, her class was headed to the library.

  Annabelle had just taken a bite of her sandwich when someone knocked at her door. Looking up, she smiled and waved the older woman in. Mrs. Banks was the third grade teacher. An institution here at the school, Mrs. Banks had been teaching for over twenty years and loved her job. Therefore, when the seasoned woman chose to visit her, Annabelle was more than eager for the company and some adult conversation.

  “Am I interrupting?” the older woman asked, her smile warm and pleasant.

  “No, please, come in. I could use some adult time,” Annabelle pleaded.

  Laughing softly, the woman entered her room, pulling a small chair up beside her desk. “How is your day going so far?”

  “About as good as it’s gonna get,” Annabelle stated flatly.

  Laughing, Mrs. Banks replied, “It will get better. Today is their first time away. It’s all exciting and scary at the same time. They will adjust.”

  “Are you talking about the kids or the parents?”

  “The parents, of course, Ms. Marcus. Children are resilient. I’ve learned over the years that it’s the parents that need to learn.”

  “I don’t remember acting that way when it was Andrew’s first day, but then again, maybe I did,” Annabelle offered with a smile.

  “Your Andrew is a remarkable child. I am so happy to have him in my classroom.”

  “Thank you. I was lucky when I accepted this school. At first, I was worried that Andrew’s needs wouldn’t be met, but when Judge Clark assured me that they had a well-versed staff that would suit Andrew’s needs, I accepted the position immediately and couldn’t get away from the city quick enough.”

  “That’s right. I remember Andrew mentioning to the class that he was born in New York City. He is something of a legend already. All of the other students are native Texans, and now we have our first Yankee amongst us. The class is eager to learn everything they can about life in a big city.”

  Smiling, Annabelle asked, “I have pictures, programs from plays, and such if you would like Andrew to bring them in? They might be a good reference point for your class.”

  “I think the kids would like that.” Mrs. Banks nodded. “So tell me honestly, how are you holding up?”

  “Good. They taught us that the first day of school is the hardest, that we should go on as we mean to. So far, everything is going according to the lesson plan,” Annabelle said before she took a drink of her coffee.

  “No, dear. I was asking about Mason,” Mrs. Banks softly rebuked. “There isn’t much that goes on in this town that everyone doesn’t know by nightfall. I’ve always liked Mason. He’s been a kind man to me whenever our paths have crossed. I heard about him missing. I know that everyone is praying for him and his team, but I am more concerned about you. What people don’t understand is that it’s not just the missing person they must be concerned about, it’s the people that love them, too.”

  Sighing, Annabelle looked out of the window in her classroom. The sun was shining brightly on this beautiful fall day. She didn’t have to read the weather report to know that it was warm. Instead, like everyone else around her, she took for granted that the weather was what it was, and nothing was going to change that.

  The room faded as she remembered that warm, sunny day she and Mason had picnicked out near his pond shortly after their first encounter together. The weather had been perfect, just like today. The only difference was that he was next to her and smiling.

  How does he still make me feel this way? Annabelle thought, blushing, her body warming from embarrassment, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze savored him, and their eyes locked…blue topaz meeting caramel honey. Her breasts rose and fell as her breathing quickened slightly. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated when he noticed how excited she had become. His cock hardened, but she was determined to go slow. She wanted lead in this dance.

  He lay beside her enjoying the almost imperceptible breeze, wearing nothing but his swim trunks as she sat on the blanket next to him in her bright yellow bikini, accentuating her ample chest and round hips. Her blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail like a teenager, swayed as she spread sunscreen all over her body.

  “You’re teasing me, buttercup.” He grinned.

  “No I’m not.” She giggled as his finger trailed up and down her back.

  He reached toward her, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist, slowly pulling her down onto the blanket. At first, she resisted, but then let him move her as he traced his finger between her wet lips, exposing her blonde curls. She trimmed the area in a neat triangle.

  “So wet already. I think someone has been toying with me,” he whispered as he kissed trails along her neck.

  He gently stroked one finger down through her curls to her pussy, letting the very tip bump over her shrouded clit before sinking into the wetness of her core. He looked into her eyes, and she saw his laughter at the sound of her sucking in her breath, her eyes closed, and her teeth gently biting her lower lip.

  “Who’s teasing who now, buttercup?” he asked.

  “You are so bad, Mason. You should be illegal.” She whimpered as his finger slid down between her legs, pressing up between her legs so that it stroked along the pubic bone until the tip found the opening to her soft tunnel.

  She instinctively spread her legs apart, giving him more room as he curled his finger and gently pressed it into her, first one knuckle and then two. He stroked his finger in and out slowly, like a small dick pushing into her. She immediately wished that it were his cock doing so. With a sigh, he drew his finger out, and she whimpered, wanting him to continue. He chuckled as he stroked his finger up her wet slit. He spread her lips and exposed the tip of her clit as he stroked across it before he pulled his hand away.

  “You are a cad, and a scoundrel. Why I accepted this date with you I’ll never know,” she whispered huskily after a few moments.

  “You know damn well why you accepted, and as for me being a scoundrel and cad, buttercup, you already knew that. Besides, if you really want to talk about who’s a cad, it’s you. Admit it, baby, you were teasing me.”

  “I was not!” she scoffed, and then chuckled. “Okay, maybe just a little bit. However, you have
me over a barrel, Mason. Look at you. You are sex on a stick. I am just a single mother, with a few more good years left before everything starts moving south.”

  Chuckling, Mason looked up and down her body as he licked his lips. “Oh yeah, buttercup, you have some delicious attributes.”

  “Can you please be serious?” she said, gently pushing him away.

  “I am serious. You’re perfect,” he replied, pushing her back down on the blanket. “So perfect and delicious I might just keep going. You said it yourself, I am a sex stud.”

  “I never said that.” She giggled again.

  He leaned forward, lowering his face to her stomach, gently kissing the soft skin around her belly button before slowly kissing his way up her stomach, inch by inch toward the yellow covering on her chest. He slipped one hand behind her back, tracing the string wrapped around her until he found the bow, and gently pulled the free end until it came loose. With the string no longer holding the triangles of material tight, her large breasts pushed out from under the bottom of their yellow restraints, revealing more of their curvy softness and a portion of her large pink areola. He drew his hand back around from her back and placed it flat on her stomach, bringing his other hand to meet it.

  “You see, buttercup, what you don’t understand about me is that I love your body. Everything about it is soft, sensual, and womanly. Your body is a masterpiece, one that I’ll never get tired of looking at, regardless if you’re forty or seventy-five. You, my little buttercup, are a real woman,” he said, and with a feather-like touch, he stroked his fingers up her stomach, to the round softness of her breasts. Moving gently, his thumbs stroked up and over the front, dragging the no-longer-secure top with them as his hands moved across her puckered areola until his fingers rested against her hard nipples. She arched into his touch, wanting to feel the heat from his strong hands. He was teasing her, and she loved it.