A Soldier's Promise

by Cynthia Thomason

  Until he saw that she wasn’t alone.

  He continued down the aisle, trying to figure out what stupid thing he could pretend to look for on the shelves. Inside he wanted to crawl artillery-fire style to the storeroom and escape out the back way.

  “Mike.” Her voice was soft and breathy, maybe even a little embarrassed.

  “Oh, Brenna.” He picked a bottle of soy sauce off the shelf and turned it slowly in his hand. “Good to see you. How have you been?”

  “Fine.” She nodded to the guy at her side. “You remember Alex, don’t you?”

  “Oh, sure,” Alex said. “We’ve met a few times. Once at the Riverview Tavern and again at the center Bren’s been working on.” Alex stuck his hand out. “Say, why weren’t you at the opening of that place on Sunday? Bren told me you were a major contributor to the rehab project.”

  “I helped a little,” Mike said. “I heard the opening went well.”

  “It did,” Brenna said. “We missed you. People wanted to thank you for all your hard work. Everyone talked about how wonderful the building looked.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He stood like a statue, hoping sparkling dialogue would come to him. He wanted to ask her if the teens were using the facility, if enrichment classes were starting to fill, if social activities were being planned. He wanted to be a part of the center’s future, a part of Brenna’s life. But he just stood there studying the ingredients in soy sauce as if he were going to go home and create a chef’s masterpiece.

  After a moment, Alex rescued the situation. “So how’s it going?”

  Better in some respects, miserable in others and right now really crummy. He said, “Great.”

  “I heard you might be moving back to California,” Brenna said.

  He tried to judge her reaction to the news by her tone of voice, but she didn’t give anything away. “Carrie and I are looking at our options,” he said. “We haven’t decided anything for sure yet.”

  She smiled politely. “I see. Well, the football team and Bobby will feel the loss if you go.”

  Sure, but how about you? Will you feel any loss at all?

  Mike forced himself to look somewhere other than Brenna’s beautiful green eyes. That was when he noticed that her shopping cart was crammed full of food. Cans, frozen dinners, desserts, soda, beer. And more carbohydrates than Brenna would eat in a year. Did this mean Alex had moved into her place? Surely not. Only a few weeks had passed since Brenna had told him that the relationship had “fizzled.” Besides, the golden-boy Alex wouldn’t mar his perfectly fit body with all the stuff Brenna was buying.

  “That’s a lot of food,” he said.

  “Oh, I know. Most of this I don’t even eat.” She pointed to the few items in the child seat of the cart. “The salad ingredients are for me.”

  “Then who...” He stared at Alex.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m strictly proteins. Steak and eggs.”

  “Are you supplying a homeless shelter?” Mike asked.

  “No. Actually, I have houseguests.”

  Mike exhaled a long breath. Her guest couldn’t be protein Alex, then. But who?

  She cleared up the mystery. “Remember I told you about my parents, who live in South Carolina?”

  “Sure, I remember.” He also remembered the day she asked him to drive her home from the Riverview so she could raid her savings account to pay her father’s hospital bill. “They’re staying with you?”

  “That’s right. Going on two weeks now.” She looked away briefly, probably recalling that Mike was aware of her parents’ dependence on her. “It’s okay,” she said. “They ran into a bit of misfortune. There was my dad’s leg, and my mom was tired. She needed help.”

  “How long are they staying?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. I suppose at least until they eat up this food.”

  Alex laughed. “That could take a year! You can appreciate my problem, Mike. I’m trying to get back on track with Bren, and her mom and dad are always hanging around. Tends to cramp a fella’s style.”

  Brenna’s face flushed. “We’ve got to go, Alex. I have ice cream in here.”

  Alex raised his hands in a gesture of mockery. “That’s me, Alex the bag boy.” He clapped Mike on the shoulder. “You take care, big guy.”

  “Yeah. You, too.”

  “Nice to see you, Mike,” she said.

  He watched them head to the checkout line and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. Brenna and Alex weren’t back together, at least not officially. The plan he’d put in motion after Kraft gave him the information on the football field could move forward. Sunday. Mike would go over to her house in just two days and hopefully present her with something that would tell her how much he cared about her. Or maybe she’d end up never speaking to him again. Either way, he had to try.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SUNDAY MORNING WAS quiet in Brenna’s house, at least it would be until church let out and Alma returned. She had gotten up early, eaten a quick breakfast and left to realign with the Lord in her new environment. Brenna was fixing what her dad always wanted on Sundays—pancakes and bacon.

  “Can you eat a couple more, Dad?” she asked him. “I still have batter left.”

  “Always room for another pancake,” he said, patting his belly.

  She heated more oil on the stove and gave the batter a quick stir.

  “So what’s with the guy who was here on Friday?” Carl asked. “Are you two serious?”

  Brenna was still recovering from the double bombshell of opening her door to Alex on Friday afternoon. First, he hadn’t called to tell her he was coming and, even after knowing him for months, she couldn’t think of a thing to say to him. Second, since their split, she hadn’t considered dating him again, and his suggestion that they try again was a surprise she didn’t need. Her life was in turmoil already with Mike breaking up with her and her parents showing up. Brenna routinely enjoyed solitude, a comfortable daily schedule, and her normal existence had been blown to bits lately.

  She poured mix into the heated oil. “No, Alex and I aren’t serious, Dad. We used to date, but as far as I’m concerned, it ended weeks ago.”

  “I hope your mom and I didn’t spoil a reunion,” Carl said. “I heard that fella offer to get us a motel room, so I can only conclude that he wasn’t happy to see us bunking with you.”

  There had been a time when Brenna would have appreciated Alex’s offer to pay for her parents’ accommodations at the nearby inn, but not anymore. She’d come to realize that her dysfunctional relationship with Carl and Alma wasn’t just her parents’ fault. The family’s problems couldn’t be solved by avoiding them. Oddly, she was getting used to having them around. She could almost say they were different people when away from the despair of their day-to-day lives.

  She flipped the pancakes. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

  “I’m sorry, Brenna May. He seemed like a nice enough sort.”

  Right. In the span of sixty seconds, Alex and her father had demonstrated that they had nothing in common. Even more significant to Brenna, Mike and Alex were opposites as well, and despite her former priorities, she much preferred Mike’s qualities over Alex’s. She’d had time to think about the awkward meeting at the supermarket. Did Mike think she and Alex had become a couple again? Did he even care?

  She brought the skillet to the table and slid the last pancakes onto her father’s plate. This situation with her parents would have to be resolved somehow. They couldn’t stay with her indefinitely. They would have to go home, or start over, or find their own way without viewing their daughter as a financial safety net. But for now, they had inadvertently helped Brenna by being a buffer between her and Alex.

  Brenna believed Alex was gone for good. Once
he’d seen her background firsthand, he’d been content to run off into the world he was accustomed to. She smiled thinking of the consequences of a meeting between her parents and Alex’s parents. Although such an event would have provided a few chuckles, basically it would have been a disaster. Thank goodness the two families weren’t ever likely to meet, not now.

  She’d always hoped that Alex’s success, his admirable bank account, would be the solution she needed to cut herself off from those pitiful beginnings in South Carolina. She’d wanted a husband who could guarantee that she’d never have to go back to that life again. Now, as she sipped her coffee and watched her father devour the simple meal she’d prepared for him, she knew that South Carolina was part of who she was and arguably the main reason she’d accomplished what she had in her life. And it was her accomplishments that would continue to guarantee her freedom from her South Carolina past.

  You don’t need a man to make your way on your own terms, Brenna. But then she thought of Mike, and she knew there was one man she needed for entirely different reasons, ones that warmed her heart, not strengthened her security net. Unfortunately, she would have to learn to live without the man who’d taught her that.

  For now she had to look to the future as a single woman and a teacher. She couldn’t live with her parents; that would never work, not for any of them. But finally, after all this time, she could accept them for the people they were. Flawed but loving in their way. She would continue to help them financially when she was able, learn to say no and commiserate with their problems when she couldn’t help.

  “Yoo-hoo! I’m home.”

  Brenna automatically put the teakettle on again. Her mother liked a caffeine pick-me-up in the middle of the morning. “In here, Mom.”

  Alma, wearing her best black pants and a silk print blouse, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, strode into the kitchen. “Oh, thank you, darlin’, for making Dad his breakfast.”

  Brenna put a mug on the table. “No problem.”

  Her mother got a tea bag from the cupboard and sat down. “I swear, Brenna, you are spoiling us. We’ll never go home if you keep treating us like this!” She stared at Brenna’s expression and burst into laughter. “I’m kidding, right, Carl? We won’t overstay our welcome. But what a treat this has been for me especially.”

  Brenna poured hot water into the mug. “So have you made plans to go home, Mom?”

  “I said two weeks, didn’t I? That means we’ll get on the road by Friday.” She passed a sorrowful glance at her husband. “Can’t leave that trailer too long. Who knows how many leaks we’ll find in the roof after being gone all this time. The weather girl said we’ve had some powerful storms up our way, and I’ve got to get someone to fix the front steps.”

  “I’ll fix ’em, Alma,” Carl said. “I get this dang cast off on Monday next.”

  Alma took a sip of tea. “It’ll be nice to have my man back around the house.”

  And nice to have my house back, Brenna thought. She would survive a few more days with her uninvited guests—and she would even be left with a few good memories of their two-week stay—but peace and quiet and a chance to reflect over the changes in her life lately couldn’t be overrated.

  Brenna sighed and fixed a mug of tea for herself. Truthfully, sometimes her perfect little house felt lonely. Not that she wanted to fill spare rooms with her parents, but she could think of two people who would bring a special warmth and comfort into her world. But Mike would probably never forgive her for interfering or forgive himself for listening to her advice. Besides, if he and his daughter were going back to California anyway, then all the forgiveness in the world wouldn’t result in a future she wanted.

  By midafternoon, Brenna had put a pot roast in the oven. Her father was snoring on the sofa and her mother was watching a rerun of an eighties sitcom. Brenna decided to take a book into her backyard, sit by the river and lose herself in someone else’s problems.

  She’d just opened the back door when her mother called from the front room, “You got company, Brenna!”

  Certain the visitor wasn’t Alex but unable to guess who would be stopping by on Sunday afternoon, Brenna set the book on the kitchen counter and went into the living room. It was a nice day, so her front door was open, letting in a fresh fall breeze and an image that made Brenna’s heart pound. Mike Langston, wearing jeans that hugged those muscular long legs and a short-sleeved tan sweater, stood on her porch, an uncertain expression on his face.

  He raised his hand. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” She hurried to the door. “Is something wrong? Is Carrie okay?”

  “She’s fine. Show her you’re fine, Carrie.”

  The girl stepped into Brenna’s view. “Hi, Miss Sullivan.”

  “Hello. Well, then why...” She paused when she saw another person behind Mike, someone she didn’t recognize. He was a big young man, his curly black hair close-cropped to his head, and his deep bronze skin glowing with health. He was built like a football player, but Brenna couldn’t place him on the Ravens team.

  “What’s going on, Mike?” she asked.

  He stepped aside so the young man could get closer to the door. The man grinned, nodded at her and said, “How you doing, Miss Sullivan?”

  “I’m fine. Do I know...” She paused. Her heart thumped against her rib cage as she fought to draw a breath. Those eyes, those deep-set, soulful, dark brown eyes that once belonged to a child in need now grounded the face of a sturdy man.

  His grin widened and she knew without a doubt. She covered her mouth to trap a sob. Her eyes stung. She was totally helpless and completely in awe, as if a miracle had just entered her life. And maybe it had. “Marcus, is it you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s me, all right.”

  She pushed open her screen door and stepped outside. “Oh, wow. Marcus, you look wonderful! I never thought I would see you again. I came to the hospital, but...” Her voice hitched. She swallowed hard and finally managed to say, “Can I hug you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I came for.”

  She had to stand on her toes to wrap her arms around the shoulders of the young man whose life she thought she had ruined. He was solid and strong and healthy, and her heart soared. “How are you? Are you well?”

  He backed away a few feet so she could look him over and proudly spread his arms. “You can see I am. And it’s all thanks to you.”

  “Me? No, I didn’t...” There was a story here, one she was dying to hear. She held the door open wide. “Come in, all of you. We have to catch up.”

  Mike, Carrie and Marcus traipsed inside and stopped short when they saw she had company. Alma had lowered the volume on the TV, and Carl was rubbing his eyes.

  “Are we interrupting?” Mike asked.

  “No, not at all. These are my parents, Alma and Carl. Mom, Dad, I want you to meet...” She stopped. How would she introduce Mike? Clearing her throat, she said, “Carrie is one of my students. And this is her father, one of our football coaches. And this...” She still couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This sweet little boy whom she’d last seen struggling to heal in a hospital bed was in her living room. “This is Marcus Johnson, a former student.”

  Alma smiled and nodded. Carl reached for his crutches.

  “Don’t get up,” Mike said, and Brenna’s dad settled back against the couch cushions with obvious relief.

  “Have a seat, everyone,” Brenna said, her gaze darting between the two faces of the men who had most affected her life, one so long ago, one so recently. “Tell me how this happened. Marcus, how did you know where I lived? And do you know I’ve thought about you every day since...”

  The young man chuckled, took a seat in one of the chairs flanking Brenna’s fireplace and glanced at Mike. “Coach here found me, Miss Sullivan.”

  “He did?”

 
“And I’m glad of it. I’ve wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” She drew an ottoman close to his chair so she could be near him. “Whatever for?”

  “I expect you saved my life. If you hadn’t called in Child Protective Services on my dad, I doubt I would be here today.”

  “But that phone call,” she said. “It didn’t accomplish what I wanted it to. In fact, all I did was anger your father so much that you ended up in the hospital.”

  “If that hadn’t angered him, something else would have,” Marcus said. “What you really did, Miss Sullivan, is you showed you cared enough about me to take a stand.”

  “Oh, Marcus, but you were so hurt.”

  “Physical pain heals, ma’am,” he said. “And because some good doctors and nurses helped me, mine did. Eventually I would have outweighed and outpunched my dad, but if I’d stayed with him, I would have suffered other kinds of pain that would have stayed with me forever. You stopped that from happening. You brought attention to what was going on in our house. Because of you, my brother and I got out of that situation. No one else had ever done anything before. No one else had even noticed.”

  She looked from Marcus to Mike and felt a slow, curling heat spread outward from her core. Mike’s brown eyes practically twinkled. He was happy for her. She smiled back at him, mouthed the words Thank you and took Marcus’s hand. “Is this really how you see what happened to you? As almost a blessing?”

  “Not almost, Miss Sullivan. A true blessing. I wish I had known you’d come to the hospital that day, but I didn’t know much about anything for a while. I would have told you thanks then. Even lying in that bed, I knew I was facing a way out, and I was glad. Just had to take some time and patience.”