A Soldier's Promise

by Cynthia Thomason

  “Have you got iced tea, Brenna?” her mother asked. “I’m sure your father would like a glass.”

  “I can make some,” she said.

  “I’ll help.” Alma followed Brenna into the kitchen. “Oh, my, you’ve got a fancy glass-top stove. And all stainless-steel appliances. Must have cost a fortune.”

  I worked a second job one summer to pay for them, Brenna recalled. She filled the teakettle and took three tall glasses from her cupboard. “Dad still likes two sugars, right?”

  “And lemon if you have it,” Alma said.

  “Sit down, Mom,” Brenna said. “It will take a few minutes for the water to boil, and you must be tired from driving.”

  Her mom pulled one of Brenna’s buttermilk-colored chairs away from the table and sat. “I’m not tired so much from driving, Brenna, but I am tired. I’m dog-tired.”

  Brenna sat across from her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Mom? Why are you here? You’ve never come in the four years I’ve lived here.”

  She hoped her mother wouldn’t mention the lack of invitations. Brenna had asked them to visit a couple of times, but her parents always said they were homebodies and didn’t want to travel. Secretly grateful, Brenna quit asking.

  Alma nodded toward the living room. “You can see what he’s like, darlin’. Can’t do anything for himself. I wait on him hand and foot.”

  “That’s only temporary, though, Mom,” she said. And, besides, you always have.

  “Yes, I know, and I’m not complaining. He would do the same for me, but I’m not as young as I used to be. My back aches from helping him up and down. I’ve got to tend him in the shower, fetch anything he wants to eat.” She shook her head. “There’s no end to it, and frankly, Brenna, I need a rest!”

  Any thoughts Brenna might have had that her parents were just passing through vanished. “That’s why you’re here?” she said. “To get some rest?”

  “I’m hoping. I thought if you helped me out with Daddy some, I could get my strength back. You know I wouldn’t ask if I had any other options.”

  Brenna’s stomach muscles clenched when her mother uttered the familiar phrase. How many times had Brenna heard every favor start out with “You know I wouldn’t ask...”? The truth was, her mother didn’t hesitate to ask for whatever she wanted. And Brenna always tried to provide. Even when she was a little girl, she’d save up her pennies to get her mom a dime-store cologne or new apron. Anything to bring a rare smile to Alma’s lips. Or a word of praise.

  The kettle whistled, and Brenna got up to steep the tea bags. Maybe she wasn’t all that excited about going to a concert in Athens, but all in the same week she’d lost Mike and gained Mom and Dad. Still, they were here now, and she would make the best of it.

  “I guess you could stay a few days,” she said. “Until...”

  “Oh, thank you, honey,” Alma said. “Your place is so nice. It’ll be like a real vacation. I promise we won’t stay more than a week, maybe two at the most.”

  Two weeks! She had suggested a few days. Brenna tried unsuccessfully to trap a sigh. “Why don’t you get some ice and finish the tea for Daddy?” she said. “I’ll take your suitcases into the guest room.”

  * * *

  KNOWING THE CHOICES in her freezer wouldn’t satisfy either of her parents, Brenna ran to the supermarket and picked up a half-dozen pork chops, her dad’s favorite. Her mother’s way of fixing the small cuts of meat was to drench each one in milk and flour and fry them in about a half inch of oil. Brenna compromised on the artery-clogging recipe by making her own breading and baking the chops with slices of pineapple. Not Southern, but healthier by far. She also made the macaroni and cheese she’d made for Carrie, knowing that would be a hit.

  After dinner and cleanup, she went out on the porch, where her dad had gone to smoke his cigarette. “Would you like some company?” she asked, taking a chair next to him.

  “Sure. What’s your mother doing?”

  “Catching up on her shows.”

  Her father nodded with familiarity.

  “Can I get you anything, more iced tea maybe?” she offered.

  He shook his head. “That was a good meal, Brenna. Thank you. And please, Bren, don’t think you have to wait on me. I figure your mama told you that I’m practically helpless, but I’m not. And even if I were, you’re not responsible for me. You have a full-time job, and Alma can take care of my needs. I won’t be laid up like this forever.”

  She wrapped her palm over his arm and felt strangely soothed by the well-worn flannel of his shirt. “Well, if you do think of something...”

  “This whole trip was Alma’s idea, Bren. You know I don’t like to travel. I’m content to stay home, but your mother seems to think the weight of the world has fallen on her shoulders.”

  “Once you’re better she won’t feel that way.”

  As if he hadn’t heard her, he continued, “And I never like when she calls you up and asks for money.”

  “You need it, don’t you?”

  “Oh, we always need it, but I figure the bill collectors can wait a few days until I find an odd job or two. ’Course now, with this leg...”

  “It’s okay, Daddy. When your leg is good again, you’ll get jobs.”

  He smiled at her. “I’m proud of you, Brenna. You’ve made something of yourself. Got this fine house and a respectable job.” He looked away. “No thanks to your parents.”

  Those five words were more honest than any she’d ever heard from her father, and Brenna felt a rush of fondness for the man who, thirty years ago, at thirty-four years of age, probably hadn’t planned to have a kid. Her parents hadn’t done a whole lot for her, but she was sure she had cost them money, money they never had enough of. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said.

  They sat quietly for a minute until he said, “I’m not the smartest man, Brenna,” he said. “Your mama, she’s got smarts, but me, not so much. I always thought I could make enough money without ever getting my high school diploma, but I was wrong. I didn’t have enough skills to compensate for a lack of learning. The jobs I did get didn’t last long and didn’t pay much.”

  “You did the best you could,” she said, not really knowing if that were true. Her mother always claimed that Carl Sullivan was a disappointment as a provider.

  “I’ll deny this if you ever tell it,” he said, “but your mama, with all her smarts, lacked ambition. Maybe we both did, truth to tell. But she expected me to take care of her and you in a finer fashion than I ever did.”

  Brenna recalled the advice her mother repeated to her from the time she first learned to walk. “It’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.” Brenna had grown up thinking that was true. Now she knew it wasn’t so. A person can’t manipulate love. It just happens.

  She leaned over and rested her head against her father’s sturdy shoulder. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just get better. That’s all you need to think about now.”

  * * *

  MONDAY AFTERNOON MIKE stood on the sidelines of the high school football field and halfheartedly watched his defensive players run drills. His focus was off. He almost felt guilty about taking the paycheck Bobby Montgomery had negotiated for him to assist in coaching responsibilities. But he didn’t help out for the money. He did it for the love of the game.

  He couldn’t concentrate today. The past week had been torture for Mike. He’d dedicated himself to an exclusive existence of being a father, and that meant giving up everything else. He had to make changes in the way he was parenting because he’d promised Lori. If only he could make Carrie understand that everything he did was for her, to keep her safe, to guide her into making the right decisions. If only he could convince himself that his own decisions for her were the right ones. He didn’t enjoy watching his daughter mope around the cabin while he held her future
in his hands.

  Today, especially, he ached knowing Brenna was teaching only a few hundred yards away in that venerable brick building. Physically she was so close, but emotionally he had pushed her to the limits of his world. He was mad at himself for taking her advice, yet he’d been miserable since giving her up. She’d probably already moved on, and that hurt most of all. Deep down he figured he had been only a temporary diversion for her anyway. Brenna had her priorities, and a garage mechanic wasn’t one of them.

  Mike had priorities, too, and Carrie had to be number one. So he’d made a decision that he hoped would move his little family forward a step at a time.

  Movement at the edge of the field caught Mike’s attention. He stared at the man who walked toward him, a familiar middle-aged guy in shirtsleeves, his tie loosened and blowing about his neck. What is Bill Kraft doing out here? Mike wondered. The principal didn’t generally show up on the field unless it was game night.

  Kraft came up to him and extended his hand. “Need to get a chance to talk to you, Mike,” he said.

  “Sure. What about?”

  Kraft pushed a shock of thinning hair off his forehead. “Most important is to tell you how much we appreciate your contribution to the team this year.”

  “No problem. I’ve enjoyed it.”

  “Well, you’ve made a difference. And Bobby can’t say enough about you.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m aware that this gig doesn’t pay a whole lot.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Mike said.

  “There’s one more thing,” Kraft said. “It concerns that matter you asked me to investigate for you.”

  Mike’s interest spiked. He hadn’t forgotten about the favor he’d asked the principal, but so much time had passed and so much had happened that he wondered if Kraft had. “You have information for me?”

  “I do.” He took a paper out of his shirt pocket. “Everything you need is right here including current contact details. If there’s anything else I can do, just ask.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Thanks again to you. Hope we can count on you next year, too. I’m going to put this position before the school board. Hope to make it a legit paying job.”

  It was time to fess up. Best to just say it, like pulling a bandage off quickly. “About that, Bill. I won’t be here next year.”

  “What? You’re leaving Mount Union?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m moving my daughter and me back to California. I think it’s the best thing for us right now.”

  Mike hadn’t told Carrie this decision yet, but he knew she’d be delighted. It was what she’d wanted since they arrived in Georgia. He’d be back in her good graces again. As for what he wanted... He’d learn to live with the choice.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Kraft said. “I thought after all your help with the team and the Cultural Arts Center, you’d started to feel like part of this community.”

  Truthfully Mike hadn’t believed he’d fit in anywhere since Afghanistan. Without his wife, his pals from his old days, no place had felt like home. But strangely, this small town, which Brenna seemed to love so much, was beginning to feel comfortable.

  “How soon are you moving?” Kraft asked.

  “Not sure yet. It’ll be a couple of weeks. I have some loose ends to tie up.” He stared at the paper in his hand. “Including this information you just gave me. I haven’t told anyone about this decision yet, not even my daughter, though I won’t have any problem with her approving the plan.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Kraft assured him. “I’m just sorry to hear it.” He shook Mike’s hand again. “Good luck to you. If you change your mind, you know where my office is.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kraft headed back across the field, and Mike slid the paper into his shorts pocket. He’d make a phone call tonight, do this one last thing for Brenna so maybe they would part on good terms. He hoped so at least. It wasn’t Brenna’s fault that he’d listened to her advice and let his priorities slip. It wasn’t her fault that her goals and ambitions were so very different from his. It wasn’t her fault that she had this special smile and way of laughing and prodding him with such a gentle hand. She’d made him come alive again.

  “Coach!”

  He shook his head and turned toward his players.

  “What’s next, Coach?” one of the boys asked.

  I wish I knew, he thought as he consulted his practice chart. I wish I knew.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “YOU SO DON’T CARE!” Carrie said. “How could you think that I want to move back to California?”

  Her question defied logic. “It’s all you’ve talked about since we got here,” Mike said.

  “Maybe at one time, but that was ages ago. Everything’s changed since then.”

  He took a long, steadying breath of fresh air coming in the cabin window and rose from the sofa. “What has changed, Carrie? Can you at least give me a hint here? We still live in this cabin you call a prison. I still insist you call me from wherever you are. You’re still grounded for what happened.” He could only shake his head. “Why do you all the sudden want to stay in Mount Union?”

  “It’s just like you to never pay attention, Dad,” she said. “I have a boyfriend, a really super boyfriend. Even after all you’ve done to keep us apart, we still like each other.” She gave him a hard, cold, typically teenage stare. “You tried, but you couldn’t ruin everything. Some things are even bigger than your stupid rules.”

  He couldn’t help wondering what his daughter and Charlie were doing to keep this romance alive. Had they played hooky to get time together? Were they sneaking behind the bleachers, an old trick from his day? He wasn’t comfortable knowing Carrie could be keeping secrets from him about her time with Charlie. He used to have a spy in the school who would give him updates, but he couldn’t very well expect Brenna to clue him in now.

  He figured he was walking on thawing ice when he said, “There will be other boys. I understand there are quite a few of them in California.”

  “Dad! Are you serious? Is that how you thought about Mom?” She tried to mimic his voice and only succeeded in making him sound whiny. “Oh well, she died, and that’s too bad, but there are lots of women out there, so I’ll be okay.”

  His face heated along with his temper. “You’re crossing a line, Carrie, and you know it.”

  She had the good sense to look repentant. “I’m sorry. That was an awful thing to say. I know you loved Mom, but you can’t keep doing this to me.”

  “Doing what? Trying to make you happy?”

  “No, you can’t keep running away and dragging me with you!” Her voice cracked. “Because every time you do, I’m the one who suffers. And just when I’m getting comfortable in a new place, you do it again.”

  He blinked rapidly several times while he tried to digest what she’d just said. “That’s what you think? That I’m running away?” Her words were like a blow. He wasn’t running. He left California for Carrie because the memories were too hard for his little girl to bear. He thought starting over in a new place would help her heal. But coming to Georgia had just introduced a new series of problems, and now he thought the best decision was to take her back to the environment she was used to. He was doing this for her!

  He stared into her glistening eyes. She was so close to tears. He’d thought his announcement would make her happy, but he’d only made her cry. He couldn’t do anything right.

  She sniffed, ran a finger under her nose. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I don’t want to go to California but I will if you want, if it will make you happy. But we have to make a decision and let it stick. No more moves.”

  Make him happy? Lately he had shoved his own happiness so far to the back of his mind that the concept almost seemed alien. Certainly unattainable. His time with
Brenna, sparring with her, helping her, kissing her, had been the only happiness he’d known for himself since coming home from the army. And now he’d misjudged his daughter’s desires again.

  Was Carrie right? Was he running away? Maybe that was what he’d been doing all along, when he left California and now when he planned to leave Georgia. Mike Langston, army elite ranger who’d never run from a fight in all his years in the military, was terrified of facing civilian life, of learning new rules. He was especially terrified of failing to keep a promise to a dead woman.

  He opened his arms. “I’m sorry, too, baby.” She fell into his arms and cried against his chest. He just held her, smoothing his hand down her hair, whispering nonsense sounds into her ear.

  She muffled a laugh. “Daddy, I don’t even know what you’re saying.”

  “Me, neither. I guess it’s the Langston version of a lullaby. But know that I love you, Carrie-belle, so we’ll think this through. You and I will decide what’s right for us together, and we don’t have to decide tonight.”

  She nodded. “I love you, too,” she said.

  Suddenly he knew happiness. Not in the way a man was happy with the right woman, but the way a father could be if he learned to give a little, compromise and forgive.

  Maybe, if he and Carrie decided to stay in Mount Union, he could hope for a bit of forgiveness from Brenna. He couldn’t think of a reason why she should forgive him. He’d acted like a complete blockhead, but just maybe she would.

  * * *

  IN A TOWN the size of Mount Union, anonymity was practically impossible. A resident could plan on running into every person he knew in the short span of a week. Trusting in that, Mike decided to visit the supermarket each day after work in hopes of bumping into Brenna. Friday night at six o’clock, his persistence finally paid off.

  After practically camping out at the store, he didn’t need to shop for groceries, but he didn’t want to look like a stalker. So with his small basket of milk he didn’t need and vegetables he knew Carrie wouldn’t want, he turned a corner and spied Brenna in the salad-dressing aisle. His heart quickened at the sight of her. She looked so darn good. She looked up immediately, saw him and locked onto his eyes with her intense gaze. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. And he didn’t.