A Soldier's Promise

by Cynthia Thomason

  Sure enough, Diana was giving the coach a thumbs-up sign...before she glanced up, saw Brenna and delivered a coy half grin. Diana had known exactly what she was doing when she left her seat empty.

  You couldn’t be more obvious if you were dressed as my fairy godmother, twinkling wand and all, Brenna thought.

  “Have a seat,” Mike said. He stared in the direction of his daughter. “Who are those kids she’s with?”

  “Don’t worry,” Brenna said, still observing the seat beside Mike. “They are all good kids from nice families. Carrie’s in good hands.”

  “Despite my daughter’s claims, I don’t bite,” Mike said as he patted the bleacher seat.

  Deciding to act as an adult, Brenna slid in beside him. After all, she and Mike would be seated side by side in the midst of hundreds of screaming fans. Hardly a compromising situation even though she maintained a couple of inches between them.

  “So, what do you know about football?” he asked.

  “I know it’s bad when our guys drop the ball. I know it’s good when they run over the goal line.”

  He smiled. “Yes, that’s the point of the whole thing. But there are a number of details involved in making that happen—and in making sure the other guys don’t.”

  “I assume you know all about these details?”

  “I have some knowledge on this subject. I’d be happy to fill you in on the basics if you’d like.”

  He wanted to fill her head with stats and arrows and X’s and O’s about something she didn’t give a hoot about? Not wanting to take away his enthusiasm, she gave him an earnest look and said, “If you think it’s something a woman with a total ignorance of sports can understand, sure, give it your best shot.”

  What was so different about Mike Langston? She almost looked forward to being educated by him, despite the subtle heat that thought brought to her face. Maybe she understood that he was having a hard time, and she simply didn’t want to discourage him. Or maybe she liked the sound of his voice, soft and low and with a faint vibration that made her skin tingle. She smiled back at him. “But don’t expect me to remember any of it tomorrow.”

  A little more than two hours later, the Ravens had chalked their opening game into the win column, Brenna knew more about football than she’d ever imagined possible and she was debating whether or not to go to the pizza place with Diana, Mike and Carrie. Usually by this time on a Friday night she’d be well into the Texas two-step at the Riverview Tavern with a banker dressed in a custom Western shirt and three-hundred-dollar cowboy boots. A banker whose persistent calls she hadn’t answered during the game.

  “Pizza, huh?” she said as they all walked to the parking lot. If she didn’t go to the Riverview, she’d at least have to call Alex with an excuse.

  “Bobby will meet us there,” Diana said.

  “You should come, Miss Sullivan,” Carrie said. “A lot of your students will be there, too.”

  Just what I want to hear. Nevertheless, when Brenna reached her car, she promised to meet the others at Vinnie’s for pizza and beer. And hopefully no football talk.

  * * *

  THE EVENING HAD turned out pretty well. In fact, Mike hadn’t felt this relaxed in months, certainly since he’d been called back from the Middle East. While he’d been overseas, he’d forgotten the enjoyment in witnessing the simple everyday combat of teams on a football field. While explosions had sounded all around him in Afghanistan, he’d forgotten the heart-pumping rhythm of a high school band. When the brilliant trails of rockets lit the night sky in the war zone, he never thought of the sparkle of a majorette’s baton twirling in bright stadium lights.

  And now, sitting in a cheese-and-garlic-scented room with cheap prints of Italy adorning the walls, he was even more content. His daughter was on one side of him. The pretty home ec teacher was on the other. And in almost three hours Brenna hadn’t interfered in his fathering techniques. She hadn’t expressed an opinion or subtly criticized. She’d just been a pleasant companion.

  He figured it was only a matter of time until she brought up that rather astounding announcement he’d overheard his daughter make the night before. “He doesn’t even know me,” Carrie had said, and her words had cut deep.

  Not that he could argue with her. He didn’t know his daughter. When she was young and he’d been home on leave, he’d marveled at her, been amazed by her. He’d tossed her in the air until she squealed. He’d pushed her on a swing until she’d giggled with delight.

  Later, when she was older, he’d slipped her a twenty so she could go to the mall. He pretended not to hear the middle school gossip and teen-idol talk among Carrie and her friends. And when he flew back across the ocean to the dangerous job that had filled him with such pride and would someday enable him to go to college, he didn’t think about the fact that his daughter was becoming more of a stranger with every mile.

  And then, when his wife was taking her final breaths, he’d promised to protect and care for a once-delicate creature who had somehow turned into this opinionated, demanding, vulnerable, lovely young woman. The army had rules. Football teams had plays. But Lori hadn’t given him even a hint about how to take over her job.

  “Hey, there he is, the man of the hour!”

  Brought back to the present with the jubilant shout of one of the restaurant patrons, Mike looked at a familiar man coming through the door. Bobby Montgomery, Diana’s husband.

  With humility that seemed as natural as his easy stride, Bobby nodded to folks he knew and came to the table, where he leaned over and kissed his wife. She took her purse from the seat she’d been saving beside her, and he sat. He immediately teased Brenna about being at the game and asked her what she thought about that gutsy fourth-down call he’d made in the third quarter.

  Brenna stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “Look, Bobby, I’m going to join the crowd and say congratulations on the game. If you expect any more in the way of sports banter, you’re going to have to be satisfied with what you hear from my coach.” She indicated Mike with a nod.

  She leaned back so the two men could see each other. “I don’t think you guys have met. Bobby Montgomery, Mike Langston.”

  They shook hands. “I’ve seen you around,” Bobby said. “Heard you’re a top-notch mechanic.”

  “I had top-notch government training,” Mike said.

  Bobby pulled out his chair. “Welcome to Mount Union.”

  “Mike was at the game,” Brenna pointed out. “He probably remembers the fourth-down call.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mike said. “You must have a lot of confidence in your second-string quarterback to let him throw that pass on fourth and three.”

  “I do. The guy has worked hard and he’s showing real promise.” Bobby ordered a beer and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So, you like football, Mike?”

  “Played it all through school,” Mike said. “Defensive back, mostly.”

  Carrie looked up at him with something almost like admiration in her eyes. “Weren’t you given a special award?” she said. “All-state or something like that?”

  Shocked that she’d remember that detail of his life, he shrugged. “It was a long time ago, Carrie.”

  “All-state, huh?” Bobby said. “And you played a tough position. What did you think of tonight’s game?”

  What he really thought about the defense wasn’t anything the coach would want to hear, so Mike simply took a swallow of beer and said, “You got a win, Coach. That’s what counts.”

  Obviously Bobby was no slouch at picking up on innuendo. He gave Mike a thoughtful stare before saying, “Oh, no. You’re not going to get away with that vague statement. You can tell me the truth. This was just our first game, and I’m always looking for ways to improve.”

  Mike rubbed his hand over his mouth. He’d be bet
ter off to keep his opinions to himself, but then, he’d never been one to do that. “Your offense was pretty stellar, Coach,” he said. “But the defense...well, it’s my area, and I saw some minor things. A couple of your linemen were off-balance in the three-point stance. On more than one occasion, their timing was sloppy.”

  “Hold it,” Bobby said, and Mike figured he’d just made an enemy of the man the town obviously revered.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything...” Mike paused when Bobby got up from his chair, walked to the end of the table and sat next to him.

  “You’d have better luck delivering a solid punch if we both got up and went outside,” Mike said.

  “I don’t want to hit you,” Bobby said. “I just might want to hire you.”

  Mike hid his shock behind a false chuckle.

  “Tell me what else you noticed,” Bobby said. “Fact is, I know the defense was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong. I’m more of an offense guy, but I think you picked up on the problem.”

  Mike grinned. If he couldn’t be close to a battlefield discussing strategy, this was the next best thing. He barely heard Diana when she leaned close to Brenna and whispered something that ended with, “We’ve just lost our men for the rest of the night.”

  “You may have lost yours,” Brenna said, “but I’m pretty sure Mike is his own man.”

  “Not so fast, gentlemen,” Diana said. “Bobby, if you get Mike to help with the team, he should give equal time to Brenna to help her get the Cultural Arts Center up and running. She needs him just as much as you do.”

  Brenna swallowed a gasp before it slipped out. “Oh, I don’t think...”

  “Mike would be perfect for that project,” Diana said. “He’s obviously got skills. I’ll bet he knows one end of a screwdriver from the other.”

  Mike looked at his daughter. “Didn’t you tell me something about the center the other day, Carrie?”

  “Yeah, Miss Sullivan mentioned it to me. It’s supposed to be good for the teens in this town.”

  “What do you need?” Mike asked, glancing first at Diana and then Brenna. He hoped he wouldn’t regret the question.

  “Tell him, Bren,” Diana urged, and then didn’t give Brenna time to answer. “Just repairing, light remodeling, building shelves and such.”

  “I guess I could devote a few hours,” Mike said, wondering how in the span of a few minutes, he’d been coerced into having an active role in this community.

  “Great!” Diana said. “Won’t Mike be a big help, Bren?”

  Brenna’s smile looked forced. “Sure.

  Brenna dropped her forehead to her hands, and Mike thought she might have groaned. Well, okay. He’d show up a couple of nights to help her. If she didn’t want him there, he’d quit coming. No problem.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “WHAT IS IT with men?” Diana said. “They’ve just spent the past three hours focused on football. You’d think that would be enough. But no, they’re back on the same topic.”

  Brenna couldn’t let her friend get away with her attempt to play innocent. “Never mind that,” she said. “I can’t believe what you just did.”

  “What did I do?”

  “That subtle-as-a-tornado ploy you just used to trap Mike.” She used her best imitation of Diana’s voice. “‘Help Brenna with the center. You know one end of a screwdriver from the other.’”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Diana smiled. “You do need help with the center, don’t you?”

  Brenna huffed. “You know I do, but I can recruit my own volunteers. Besides, Mike has enough going on in his life.”

  “Then he could have said no,” Diana pointed out. “And I resent your use of the word trap. When a man runs right into the net, like Mike just did, he wants to be trapped.”

  He did agree rather quickly, Brenna thought, not that Diana was excused for her behavior. “You could have asked me if I minded if he worked at the center.” She frowned. “The last I heard, I was still in charge of this project.”

  “Of course you are,” Diana said. “But we’re friends. I can’t imagine you’d resent me helping you find qualified workers.”

  “If that’s really what you were doing.”

  “Naturally that’s what I was doing. After all, you gave up your normal Friday night activities to go to a football game because his daughter asked you to. It’s only fair that Mike do you a favor.”

  “I’m not sure I can work with him,” Brenna said. “Remember how he reacted to my little battery mishap.”

  “Sure I remember. He charged the battery for what seemed to me a fair price, and you drove off happy.”

  “I wasn’t happy,” Brenna said. “He made me feel like an idiot for leaving my lights on.”

  Diana gave her a look that said Duh.

  “Okay, it was idiotic, but the guy definitely has attitude.”

  “And so do you,” Diana said. “So quit worrying. I got him in the net. Now you train him.”

  Brenna glanced at the two men who were huddled together, drawing plays on napkins and talking strategy. “We might as well not even be here,” Brenna muttered to her friend. At least the two jocks hadn’t heard a word she and Diana had uttered.

  Diana nodded toward the door to the pizza shop. “Don’t look now, Bren, but here comes a bunch more just like them.”

  Six boys and a couple of girls came into the restaurant, and the quiet ambiance exploded with testosterone in the throes of celebration. Diana’s son, Charlie, led the group to a large booth in the corner.

  “I imagine Charlie is feeling pretty good about the win tonight,” Brenna said.

  Motherly pride showed in Diana’s eyes as she watched the group find seats around the big table. “I’m sure he is. All those kids seem pretty happy.”

  Before sitting, Charlie broke away from the crowd and came over to their table. “Hey, Mom, what did you think of the game?”

  “I thought you all did a great job,” she said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Charlie looked at Mike and waited for his dad to introduce them. “How do you do, sir?”

  “Fine. Good job tonight,” Mike said.

  “You were at the game?”

  “Sure was. Enjoyed myself.”

  Charlie nodded and turned his attention to Carrie. A grin of recognition spread across his face. “I know you,” he said. “I’ve seen you in the cafeteria.”

  Carrie’s face lit. “Yeah. We have the same lunchtime.” She put her hand out. “I’m Carrie.”

  “I thought that was your name. I had to ask about a half-dozen kids before I found someone who knew it.”

  Carrie positively beamed.

  “I’m Charlie. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “My first year.”

  “Oh. Cool. How do you like Mount Union High?”

  Brenna was prepared for one of Carrie’s typical negative comments, but the girl only kept the smile in place and said, “It’s great. I’d like to meet more kids my age, though,” she said.

  Brenna gave her a cool-move-kid look on the sly, and Carrie smiled.

  “Well, yeah, you need to do that.” Charlie paused, looked over at his crowd. “Why don’t you come sit with us? You won’t be the only girl. I’ll introduce you to some of the guys on the team, and more kids will be showing up in a few minutes.”

  “I’d like that,” Carrie said, turning to her father. “Dad, I’m going...”

  Mike stared at Charlie before concentrating on his daughter. “We’ve just ordered our pizza,” he said. “You don’t want to leave before it arrives.”

  “She can eat with us, Mr. Langston,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah, Dad. I can eat with them.”

 
Brenna gave him a pointed look, urging him to give in. “Yeah, Dad. Pizza’s pizza, isn’t it?”

  He scowled. “Okay, go ahead, but just for a while. We’re not going to stay too late.”

  She bounded up from her chair. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Brenna lightly touched his arm. “Good decision, Mike.”

  He turned his beer in his hands. “What choice did I have? You women were ganging up on me again.” He managed a smile. “But I can keep an eye on her from here.”

  “Be sure and stare at her a lot,” Brenna said. “It’ll make her feel loved.”

  Mike pretended he didn’t hear the jab.

  Mostly empty glasses and only a few crusts of pizza remained on the trays at the adults’ table when the order at the corner booth arrived—three large pizzas to feed the group that had grown to twelve.

  Bobby leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’m beat. What do you say, Di, finish your beer and let’s go home?”

  “Sounds good.” She looked at Brenna. “You leaving soon?”

  “I’ll go when you guys do. Mike?”

  “The kids just got their food,” he said. “I’ll have to wait around until Carrie’s done, I guess.”

  “What the heck, I’ll keep you company,” Brenna said. She caught Diana’s smile before refocusing on Mike. “I suppose we can talk about the Cultural Arts Center, now that you’re going to be involved.”

  “Sure. You can tell me all about it.”

  Bobby called for the check just as Carrie left her booth and came over. “We’re not leaving, are we, Dad? We just got our order.”

  “No. I’ll wait till you’re done.”

  Charlie walked over and stood behind Carrie. “You can go if you want, Mr. Langston. I’ll bring Carrie home. We live out the same way.”

  Heavy creases appeared in Mike’s brow. He released a long breath and said, “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

  Carrie leaned down and spoke in her father’s ear. “Dad, that is so lame! Go home!”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you kidding? I’m waiting.”