A Soldier's Promise

by Cynthia Thomason

  Tears tore at the back of her throat and burned in her eyes, but she couldn’t dissolve now. Not without hearing it all. “What happened to you after you were released?” she asked. “Did you go back to the same school?”

  “No. Social Services found me a foster home in another district. My brother went to a home in the same area so we got to see each other every day on the bus.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “This is Darius, my little brother.”

  The sound that came from Brenna’s throat was half laughter, half sob. “Little? He’s almost as big as you, Marcus.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, he’s on the junior varsity football team. Might end up at college like I’m going to.”

  “Really? You’re going to college?”

  “I’ve got a few colleges scouting me out,” he said with pride. “I’ll be playing defensive end.”

  “And your foster parents? Have you stayed with them?”

  “The whole way through school. Still there now for my senior year. Mr. and Mrs. B. are good people.” His smile seemed to light up the room as he grinned at Brenna. “But none of it would have happened if you hadn’t stepped in.”

  These past four years she’d moved, changed jobs, avoided going back to her hometown just as she’d avoided getting involved in her students’ lives. She’d opted for a complete change and adjusted to a life of noninterference, telling herself that was best, the safest way to protect her fragile emotions. But always something had been missing. A connection, a caring, as she forced herself to see her students as young learning machines and nothing more.

  But today a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t been wrong when she reached out to Marcus and reported his father’s abuse. True, his story could have turned out differently, but he convinced her today that her actions had been brave and life-altering. So often in life we take chances with our decisions. Sometimes we overanalyze. Is this the right thing to do? What could be the negative consequences of this action? When, in truth, most people have a built-in compass that keeps them on the right track. And now she knew that she had followed the right track with regard to Marcus.

  She placed her hand over her heart, where the beat was strong and sure. She’d followed the instincts of her heart that day. She’d followed them with regard to Carrie, too. Even if she’d lost Mike, she had no regrets.

  Her tears swelled. She sniffed and said, “I’ll get us some lemonade. You all just relax...” She couldn’t say any more without blubbering all over herself. She turned and walked briskly to the kitchen.

  She heard her mother’s voice. “I should go be with her.”

  “I’ll go,” Mike said. “I think I know what she needs right now.”

  She heard his soft footfalls as he came up behind her. Then his strong, gentle hands were on her shoulders, where she’d so often imagined them these past lonely weeks.

  “Brenna.” His lips were against her ear, and the sweet tremor of her name resonated through her body. “Are you okay? I hope I didn’t do something wrong in bringing Marcus here.”

  Something wrong? He’d done exactly the most perfect, the most right thing anyone had ever done for her in her life. “H-how did you find him? I never gave you his full name.”

  “No, but you gave me enough, and I called in a favor from Bill Kraft. All those low-paying coaching hours he got from me paid off.”

  She turned and he lowered his hands to her arms. “What exactly did you ask Bill to do?”

  “I told him I was looking for a former student of yours, a kid who’d been in the hospital. I made him swear not to tell anyone, and I don’t think he did, but he got the info.”

  “He talked to Marcus himself?”

  “No. I didn’t give him permission to go that far. Once I got the kid’s name and foster parents’ address I contacted him and the rest is history.” He smiled down at her. “And for what it’s worth, Brenna, the boy is telling you the truth. He was over the moon to hear about you. He’d been thinking of you, but didn’t even know till much later that you’d visited him in the hospital. After that, he just thought he’d disappointed you.”

  A sob burned in her throat. “Oh, how could he think that?”

  Mike chuckled. “Kids, huh? There’s no figuring them out.”

  She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Mostly she wanted to reach out and hold on to Mike Langston with all her strength. But did he want her to do that? Was he reaching out to her as a friend only as she’d reached out to him so many times? Was this a last gesture of kindness before he left town? Or was he knocking down the walls that had separated them since the auto accident?

  She swallowed, stared hard into his eyes. “Why did you do this for me?”

  His hands cupped her face. “Don’t you know I would do anything for you? Granted, it takes a symbolic chunk of concrete to fall on my head to make me realize it, but I would.”

  She smiled. “And what was that chunk of concrete?”

  “Two things, really. You won’t believe this, but my daughter pointed out a few flaws in my character, which got me to thinking, both about those flaws and about the good qualities that you seem to have in abundance. And seeing you with Alex again. That tore me up, Brenna.”

  Her cheeks flushed with heat under his palms. “You were jealous?”

  “I guess I was.”

  “Oh, I like that,” she said. Could this mean... She had to ask. “So you chose this way to say goodbye before you move to California?”

  “Well, maybe it would have been...if I were moving. But since I’m not, I won’t be saying goodbye at all.”

  “You’re staying?” All at once, none of the rest of it mattered. Her parents could stay as long as they wanted. Her possessions could be swept away in a tornado. She could sit through every football game like a die-hard fan.

  His grin warmed her deep inside where happiness grew. “I am. There are people here I just can’t bear to leave. Pretty teachers, one nosy woman in particular who opened my eyes to a lot of things I’d been blind to.” She absolutely adored this side of Mike. The humorous light in his eyes, the odd quirk to his lips. This was teasing Mike, a man who had learned to look forward with confidence and hope.

  “Of course, I can’t make a decision like this without clearing up a few details.

  “What exactly are those details?” she asked.

  “Let’s see now.” He released her long enough to count on his fingers. “Got to raise a kid amid all these solid Georgia values. Got to help get that football team in shape for another year. Got to get a college education so I can teach down the hall from you and smell all those delicious recipes your students make. And last—” he held up his little finger for emphasis “—got to make some major improvements in Granny’s old place.”

  “I thought you liked simple and homey,” she said.

  “I do, but I have a couple of women in my life who require a bit more fanciness than an old log cabin provides.”

  “A couple of women?”

  “That’s right. The younger one, she has to live in that cabin, no matter what it looks like. But the other one, now she’s got options.”

  Brenna smiled. “You mean there’s an old, opinionated, stuck-up one?”

  “I’d call her intelligent, determined, ambitious and beautiful.”

  Brenna hadn’t played coy in many years but she did so now. She actually tried batting her eyelashes. “I like the sound of her. Would you repeat those words one more time?”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Intelligent, determined, ambitious and beautiful. And I plan on repeating them for a long time to come. But I need you to add ‘forgiving’ to the list. Will you forgive me for general lunkheadedness, Brenna? And will you say that you won’t quit trying to find the soft spots in this rock-hard
brain of mine?”

  She settled in next to his firm, comfortable body and relished the feel of his arms around her. “It will be my pleasure to keep trying because I’ve long suspected that you have just as many soft spots as you do hard ones.”

  “Brenna, you okay in there?” Her mother’s voice penetrated the closed door, and Mike stepped back.

  “I’m fine, Mama. Coming out with that lemonade.”

  “Oh, right,” Mike said. “I’d forgotten your parents were here. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not too bad, really. I think I’ve come to understand them better in my house than I ever did in theirs.”

  “Glad to hear it. But if you need a break from family matters, I know where there’s this soon-to-be improved cabin outside of town. The people and dog who live in it would love to have you come by and stay a few decades.”

  “Brenna? Do you need any help?”

  “No, Mama. I’m coming.” She stroked her finger down the side of Mike’s face. “I’d be delighted. But for now I guess we’re done here.”

  The smile he gave her seemed to have been made for this moment. “Honey, I’m just getting started.

  EPILOGUE

  TWO MONTHS LATER, on December 24, in the Mount Union Cultural Arts Center, Brenna and Mike walked down a satin-draped aisle bordered with hundreds of twinkling white lights. Poinsettias in large baskets decorated each row of chairs. The classroom partitions had been removed so a pair of Christmas trees would be the singular focus of the holiday event, not counting the true stars of the show, the bride and groom.

  When the students of Mount Union High volunteered to pull off this ceremony on Christmas Eve, Brenna and Mike were only too happy to let them take charge. All they asked was that the wedding be kept to a minimum number of guests. In attendance were the staff of the high school, some members of the Ravens football team, students from Brenna’s classes and the mechanics from Alvin’s Garage. Bobby Montgomery was best man with his son, Charlie, acting as usher. Diana Montgomery was matron of honor, and Carrie and Sandy were bridesmaids.

  Brenna, wearing a flowing white gown and carrying a bouquet of red and white chrysanthemums, was walked down the aisle by her father. Carl Sullivan’s recovery had gone very well, and his stride was sure and proud as he gave his daughter to the man she loved with all her heart.

  Alma cried softly as the vows were repeated, though inside her head she was probably wondering if all her preparations were complete for the reception she had planned at Brenna’s cottage immediately following the ceremony. Alma and Carl had a special pride in the cottage because they had been living there full-time for two weeks to help with wedding preparations. Knowing they would never be content in the single-wide trailer again, and spurred on by a practical yet optimistic belief in their future, they’d decided to sell the old place and move to Mount Union.

  They insisted on paying a modest rent to their daughter for her house and began furnishing the bungalow with practical, durable pieces they purchased secondhand with Carl’s salary from his part-time job as maintenance engineer for the center. The couple enjoyed a comfortable existence living on Carl’s paycheck and his Social Security benefits. Alma even promised to run the air conditioner when it got hot outside again.

  At the end of the ceremony, Mike couldn’t wait to get his bride alone, so he accepted the congratulations of his new friends, waited until the two of them weren’t surrounded by well-wishers and grabbed his wife’s hand. With his finger to his lips to keep Brenna from squealing her surprise, he ushered her into the room where she’d dressed for the wedding.

  “What are we doing in here?” she said when they were alone in the soft light of a single lamp.

  The cool December air coming in a partially open window washed over her bare arms and flirted with the auburn waves brushing her shoulders. She looked up into his dear face and laughed out loud. “Do you want your wife to catch cold? That’s a great way to start a honeymoon.”

  “I promise to keep you warm. Today and always.” He proved his intent by putting his arm around her and pulling her to his chest. Her waist-length veil fluttered around them like a halo. Brenna had never felt more protected, more loved. How could this man have ever thought that he wasn’t protector enough?

  “The new dining room set arrived today, and you’re right. It looks nice with the things you moved in from your place. And I put the tree up,” he said. “I found the perfect one in the woods and planted it in a galvanized tub like you wanted me to. We can dig a hole for it in front of the house after New Year’s and watch it grow for years to come.”

  “I can’t wait to see it...tonight,” she said. “Did you decorate it?”

  “Mostly Carrie and Charlie did, but I supervised.”

  “We’ll have the tree all to ourselves,” Brenna said. “Thank goodness Carrie is excited about staying with my parents for the evening.”

  “We’ll be completely and utterly alone in Grandma’s old cabin tonight,” Mike said. “We can do whatever we want. Watch grown-up movies, play Scrabble, you name it.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want to do.” He lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly.

  “We’d better go back with our guests,” she said. “They’ll be sending out a search party.”

  “Okay. But before we go in...”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to clear something up. In case you think I’m a man who has a hard time keeping his promises, I want to set the record straight.”

  “Okay.”

  “From now on, Brenna Langston, I promise to keep you warm and safe. And I promise to love you and thank fate every day that you came into my life when you did.”

  He smiled the full, satisfied smile of a happy man. “And if we do have a baby in the future, I promise I won’t interfere with your parenting skills—much.”

  * * * * *

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  ISBN-13: 9781460332221

  A SOLDIER’S PROMISE

  Copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Thomason

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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