Loe raamatut: «A Soldier's Promise»
A Soldier’s Promise
Cheryl Wyatt
MILLS & BOON
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Dedications
To Mom, who always said I could.
To my favorite soldier, Dad, who always said
I could do it better.
To Lisa, who always said she could do it better. Grin.
To Billy. Not one soldier marching around my imagination
could occupy the place you’ve secured in my heart.
To Granny Nellie and Aimee. I could not have done this
had you not stepped in while I went MIA from my
Hide-N-Seek posts to write.
To Mag, Eno and Randa. I love you to infinity.
Ready or not…here I come!
To my editor, Melissa Endlich, for handing me
this dream in the form of a contract.
To my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray of Hartline,
for seeing promise in my work.
Thank you, Lord, for remembering our dreams
even when we feel they’re long lost.
I love you all beyond what words can express.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Acknowledgments
To fellow author Anne Greene and her personal hero, Colonel Larry Greene, U.S. Army Special Forces, Ranger, and the other military contacts (you know who you are) who’ve helped me validate research for this series. May the Lord watch over you and your loved ones as you watch over our country. Thank you for serving.
To Lynette at Lifeway in Carterville, Illinois. Little did we know when you led me down the Christian fiction aisle that God used you as a traffic director to walk me into my destiny as an author.
Chapter One
“Sure you wanna do this, Montgomery?” Fellow U.S. Air Force Pararescue Jumper Nolan Briggs asked above the engine hum.
“I’m sure.” Joel shifted away from the window as the luxury jet broke through wispy Southern Illinois clouds on descent to the one place on earth he never wanted to see again.
Refuge. The irony made him snort.
Nolan leaned close enough for Joel to inhale toxic doses of mafia-strength garlic. “’Cause if you don’t, we’ll handle it.”
Teammate Manny Peña joined Nolan in the passenger aisle. “Yeah. Nobody’ll know if you don’t make the jump, dude.”
Joel fastened a gaze on his well-meaning friends and fellow PJs, and aimed a thumb at his sternum. “I’ll know.”
And so would that kid.
“It’s gonna be tougher than you think,” Nolan said.
Hardest mission of his life. Especially on a cold Friday in September. Joel laced his boot. “Nah. Piece of cake.”
“Right. Like running a catering service with an Easy-Bake.” Manny clicked the overhead bin open.
“No sweat.” Joel tugged his chute pack from under the seat.
“Not a drop,” Nolan agreed. “But the offer still stands.”
“He asked for me. I can’t let him down, guys.” Joel retrained a determined gaze on the small town peeking up at him. Recognition of his old neighborhood clogged his throat. He clenched his jaw against a surge of unwanted emotion. He looked away from familiar landmarks. “I’ll be fine.”
As long as he steered clear of that house, and the uncle who’d destroyed his family, he’d be fine.
A chorus of unconvinced faces stared back at Joel when he looked up. A torrent of vulnerability rushed through him at their perception. He torqued his gaze out the window. True. They could do this without him and spare him the pain.
Except for one thing.
He tugged the letter out of his chest pocket. Unfolding it, he eyed the elementary attempt at cursive.
My name’s Bradley. I’m eight and I have cancer. My teacher called Dream Corps who said I should write a letter about my wishes since doctors say I might not get a transplant in time. I want to meet a Special Forces soldier more than anything. Well, almost anything. Having a family would be nice. I heard a PJ grew up in my town. It would be awesome if he’d come see me but I know he’s kinda busy with wars and rescues and all. Anyway, if you find him, tell him he’s my idea of a hero…
Words blurred. Joel blinked, refocused and read: Thinking of soldiers who fight terror helps me be brave and fight mine. If me and God win our cancer war, I promise to plug my nose and eat my stinky call of flower so I can grow up strong and come help the soldiers win theirs. Love, Bradley Tennyson. Refuge, IL U.S.A.
Joel folded the letter Dream Corps had forwarded to him. He crimped along the crease and came back with blue fingertips, probably from one of those messy erasable pens. He rubbed fingers on a hanky, but the ink didn’t come off. Weird, since it had transferred from the paper with no trouble.
Ink imprinted his hand, but scribbled wishes stained his heart. Family. The very word stung. Joel couldn’t help the little guy with one, but he could make the other a reality. No matter how hard the next hours proved to be, Joel’s discomfort in coming back to the site of his most painful childhood memories would be a speck of dust compared to the earth of hurt this kid faced.
Joel pressed thumbs into the corners of his eyes and lifted his face. He swallowed, but his voice box didn’t seem to want to loosen and let him speak.
“I appreciate you guys offering me an out, but…” He met and held each man’s respect-filled gaze, drawing courage from the admiration in each one. “I need to do this.”
Grins erupted all around, revealing to Joel they wanted him to conquer this every bit as much as he did.
Nolan tossed Joel his goggles. “Don’t tangle up on a power line before you hit the ground, Montgomery. It wouldn’t bode well to fry your fanny in front of a load of little kids.”
Joel smiled back at the grinning faces before refastening his gaze on strings of pinpoint runway lights rising to meet the Dream Corps aircraft. “All right, you platoon of goons. As soon as we hit tarmac, load the choppers while the pilot flies me back up into a holding pattern. I’ll jump when you hover on the school lawn. Fastrope down when I flare my canopy. Let’s go make this little guy’s dream come true.”
A chorus of “Hoorah!” shouts punctuated the end of his sentence, and a dozen fists shot up.
He’d parachute in, spend a few hours with the kid, then get away from Refuge for good. It would be as easy as that. What could possibly be simpler?
“What on earth is that?” Special needs teacher Amber Stanton grasped the desk and held her breath.
Her best friend and co-teacher, Celia Muñez stared at Amber as if she’d morphed into a snail. “What?”
“You don’t feel that?” Amber whispered.
Ebony eyes waxed blank and oblivious. “Feel what?”
Leave it to her zippy friend to be in the middle of a natural disaster and not know. Had Amber imagined it? No. The rumbling vibration beneath her feet strengthened. Ripples pulsed across the surface of the water in the small fishbowl on her desk. “Shh—” Amber leaned in. “Listen.” The windows gave a faint rattle. “That!” Amber clutched Celia’s shoulder in a pinch grip.
“Cool it with the claws, will ya?” Celia peeled fingernails from her blouse. “It’s only—”
“I know. Let’s get these kids outside.”
“You know?” Now Celia looked properly stricken. “Who told?”
“Shh. I don’t want the children frightened. Let’s go.”
Celia tugged Amber back. “Hold on. They all know except Bradley. If you keep yapping, you’ll ruin the surp—”
“Class—” Amber moved from Celia’s grasp. Why didn’t Administration ring the bell? “Line up at the door please.”
Celia yanked Amber hard back behind the desk. “Not yet!”
“Sit!” Celia waved the class down with choppy arm motions. Children sat, giggling as crayons jittered off slanted desks.
Amber’s chest tightened. She turned a fierce gaze on Celia. “Obviously you have no idea how dangerous they can be.”
Celia screwed up her terra-cotta–toned face. “They?”
Amber helped children from seats, then leaned close to Celia’s ear. “Do not panic or react outwardly to what I am about to tell you, but I think we are having an earthquake.”
A sharp laugh yelped from Celia, causing Amber’s face to jerk back. Celia slapped a hand to her mouth.
Amber glared at her and ushered the class down the hall like a kiddie cattle drive. “Stay together, guys. Good.” Amber kept her teacher voice calm and helped stragglers along, including Celia.
“Though this is frightening, it’s only minor and should stop any moment. I moved from California to get away from these things,” Amber said out of student earshot.
“Looks like they followed you here.” Celia spoke in a wry voice. Amber’s pulse spiked. Did Celia forget Refuge sat atop the New Madrid fault? Amber pushed her feet against fear that weakened her knees. Please, Lord. Not now. Not here. Not even a thousand years from now. Not these children. Not on my watch. Celia maneuvered Bradley up to Amber as she flung open the double doors and stepped outside into—
A war zone? Talk about shock and awe. Bradley gasped and froze beside her as a blast of cheers erupted. She grew cognizant of little hands shoving them forward into a sea of noise and green. Military stuff—everywhere. Amber and Bradley moved down concrete steps to grass where the entire school, sans her class, waited. A bugle charmed the air with a patriotic tune, and drums danced a rhythm with Amber’s pulse.
Mouth agape, she peered at Celia, who winked.
“Whoa!” Bradley’s voice cut through the chaos.
Amber realized the roaring vibrations were military helicopters hovering above the school, fumigating the air with a sharp exhaust smell. Camo-fatigued men slid from ropes hanging out. One after another, they dropped to the ground. Helicopters lit on the lawn like twin gigantic metal grasshoppers. Thunderous chopping abated as the blades slowed to a halt.
Bradley drew in a sharp breath. “Look! Look at him!”
Amber followed the trajectory of the finger Bradley jabbed at the sky. She gasped. A uniformed man dangling from a white parachute etched with a blue USAF insignia penetrated clouds above them. How could a person jump from such heights? Amber tugged Bradley’s shoulder to move him back but a large hand halted her. She turned.
A wide grin peeked at her from a dark face painted in calico earth tones. “Don’t worry, ma’am. He’s never landed on a lady’s head. Yet.” The camouflaged man chuckled then directed her class to join with others as if this were…
Planned. Suddenly she knew. Her phone call. The letter. Dream Corps. Bradley’s wish coming true in a spectacular way.
Slammed with a tidal wave of emotion, Amber sprawled fingers over her lip to smother a tremor.
Celia’s hand circled her wrist, tugging it back down. “It’s okay to cry happy tears, chica. You’ve shed enough sad ones for him. Don’t quench the enormity of this moment. Revel in it.” Tears glistened in Celia’s eyes, too, though she prided herself on never crying. She pressed paper in Amber’s hand.
Celia peeled the backing off a flag sticker and placed it on Bradley. Amber lifted hers and read the preprinted font:
Welcome to Refuge. My name is Ms. Stanton. Faith Elementary, along with Dream Corps International, wish to thank you for your service to our country.
Chills marched down her arms as the words took hold of her.
“Oh!” Her head snapped up and her shoulders back as the parachutist landed mere feet in front of them. Bradley stumbled backward.
The soldier grinned, took three steps forward, dropped to one knee, putting him nose to nose with Bradley, and saluted.
Bradley sliced a clumsy hand to his forehead, causing his glasses to topple. The soldier righted the lopsided frames on Bradley’s nose.
Amber laughed, recalling her earnest prayer the day she’d called Dream Corps. “I asked for one, and you sent…fifty.” She roamed a deeply thankful look over each soldier who’d answered this very special call.
But it was the one brandishing a heart-seizing grin, the most piercing blue eyes, and parachute material falling around him in billowing waves, whom she couldn’t extract her gaze from.
Chapter Two
As Joel knelt on clean-shaven lawn, Bradley’s eyes widened through bottle-thick glasses perched haphazardly atop his nose. His eyes traveled up Joel’s body.
His mouth gaped like the nine-pound bass Joel hooked yesterday. “Whoa! Dude! Who’re you?”
Joel offered his hand. “Senior Airman Joel Montgomery, little sir. You must be Bradley.”
Awe and trepidation flowed over the child’s gaunt face. “H-how do you know my name?” He shook Joel’s hand, pumping as if it were the handle of a water well.
Joel grinned, tapping the patriotic sticker on the boy’s bony chest. “Says so right here.”
Bradley’s gaze hit the sticker the way heat seekers locked on target. He lifted his shirt, twisting material to view it. “A flag tag! With my name!” His gaze skittered to Joel’s shoulders. He stuck a tiny finger out and poked his bicep. “Are those real muscles?” Poke. Poke. Poke. “They are! Dang!”
“This is a private Christian school, kiddo. You sure you’re supposed to be saying that kinda word around here?” Joel asked.
Bradley jerked his head around, rapidly scanning the perimeter as if they’d just come under heavy enemy fire. “N-no. I ain’t supposed to. Good thing the playground patrol’s not—”
“Right behind you, Bradley?”
Bradley stiffened as if stabbed in the caboose with a bayonet. The sweet-timbred voice belonged to a very attractive woman with night vision–green eyes. He flashed his best grin and offered a hand to her. “Joel Montgomery.”
She reached forward. “Amber Stanton.”
From the air, he’d mistaken her for a student because of her petite frame. Closer observation confirmed she was all woman. He continued the handshake past the edge of proper, enjoying the flush that crept up her neck.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. How do you know this brave guy?” Joel tousled Bradley’s hair, which lay unusually sparse in places.
“I’m his teacher.”
So this is her.
Joel rose to face the reason he was here today. Her phone call had deployed six military units to a hundred-student school in a middle-of-nowhere town.
“So, you’re the one.”
She started at his words. He wondered about the blush invading her cheeks until he realized how his statement could have been misconstrued. He dipped his chin to his chest, laughing at himself. Half-embarrassed, he looked back up. “You’re the one…who called Dream Corps?”
She laughed then nodded. “I am.” She smiled again. Cute mouth. Nice teeth. The kind that spoke of parents who’d forked over some hefty dough to orthodontists.
“Miss Stanton, you knew about all this?” Bradley’s words rode out on the winds of an awe-induced whisper.
The riot of auburn curls framing her ivory face bounced as she looked from Joel to Bradley. Childlike mischief frolicked in her eyes as she surrendered a secret wink to Joel. “Not exactly.”
He admired the way she pretended not to notice how hard Bradley attempted to simultaneously push his shoulders up and his chest out as far as Joel’s. The jerky movement came out looking more like a barnyard bird with Parkinson’s.
Joel watched her study Bradley, enthralled with the level of loving care in her eyes.
Eyes that seemed to glow with interest when they came to rest on Joel. He bit down on his cheek to keep from grinning over the possibility of the attraction being mutual.
Pink infused her cheeks when he didn’t break his focus except to travel lazily down to her left ring finger before returning to her face again. The gesture was far from covert, as he’d intended to gauge her reaction.
Her blush deepened. Butterfly-delicate hands fluttered across her forehead before coming to rest atop Bradley’s shoulders. “Shall we walk?”
Bradley clasped her hand, then Joel’s. He had the feeling she’d wanted to slip out from under his assessing gaze but Bradley trapped her. He grinned. This couldn’t have worked out better had he planned it himself. The threesome trekked past soldiers talking with huddles of enthralled students.
Around the east side of the school Bradley led them through a garden gate to a huge oak tree. An anklet of yellow flowers surrounded it. Bradley pointed to one whose color seemed muted. “That’s mine. Planted it myself.”
“Each student in class planted one,” Amber explained.
Another teacher motioned Bradley to the gate.
Joel remained beside Amber. Concern troubled her expression as she eyed Bradley’s flower, then the ones flanking it. Joel brushed fingers along the droopy petals. “Hey, I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
She blinked and smiled. “It shocked me to see the wilted condition of his compared to the others.”
Joel pushed his fingers in the soil surrounding Bradley’s flower, then eyed the other stems intently. “I’m no botany expert but my mother was an avid gardener before she died. She taught me a thing or two. Seems to me Bradley’s isn’t planted in the soft dirt like the rest. If it doesn’t perk up, maybe transplant it into better soil so it can take root and be healthy. It might thrive then.”
“Thank you.” Amber stood, tracking Bradley, who grinned at them from the gate. “I think he’s waiting for us.”
Joel chuckled. “I think so.”
The fence chinked as Bradley bounced against it. “Miss Muñez says a special show is coming.”
“Okay, catch a bathroom break and take your seat with the other students,” Amber said.
Joel adjusted his waterproof Luminox watch with the PJ emblem and motto So Others Might Live engraved on the band and peered at the face. Ten minutes until the hour.
“Where’d you get that cool watch?” Bradley turned Joel’s wrist around, peering intently at it.
Joel slid his cuff up. “It was a gift from one of my boys.”
Bradley’s shoulders slumped and his grip on Joel’s wrist slackened. “Wow. Your kid sure is lucky. How many you got?”
Joel caught Bradley’s hand before he pulled it away. “I don’t have children. By boys, I meant one of my teammates.” Joel gave Bradley’s hand a comforting squeeze as compassion for the little guy consumed him.
“You gonna have any kids?” Bradley swung their arms back and forth like a hand clasp pendulum.
Miss Stanton put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Bradley, it’s not polite to ask personal questions.”
Joel looked at her and shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.” He met Bradley’s gaze once more. “I don’t think being a dad is in God’s plans for me, buddy.”
Bradley squished up his nose. “Why not?”
“Enough, Bradley.” Miss Stanton’s voice carried a sternness that made even Joel perk up.
Bradley dipped his head. “Sorry, sir.”
Joel inched Bradley’s chin up with his finger. “No sweat, buddy. It’s all good, but I think it’s okay that you know. I didn’t have great examples for parents so I’d probably be no good at it.”
It struck Joel suddenly that his uncle Dean had been more of a father figure than Joel’s dad had been. Joel hadn’t thought about that in years. He certainly didn’t want to start thinking about it now. Despite Joel trying to sweep thoughts of Dean from his mind, they clung like stubborn dust.
The latent question of years ago resurfaced. Why had Dean gone out of his way for Joel? Were his actions motivated by guilt for cheating on Joel’s dad with his mother?
Or was there something else?
No matter. Joel had little mercy for a man who trampled on another man’s wedding vows. He didn’t want to disappoint Bradley in case the kid got some wild notion about hoping Joel would want him. A career military dad was the last thing this kid needed. He relinquished Bradley’s hand.
“Will I get to talk to you again?” Bradley asked in a small voice and twisted his shirt hem.
Miss Stanton smoothed his fidgety hands down.
“Of course. I’ll be here all day unless something happens. Tell you what. Save me a seat after the show and I’ll sit next to you. I’d feel honored if you’d be my best buddy today.”
Bradley’s face ignited with joy. “Cool! Did you hear that, Miss Stanton? He wants me to be his best buddy today! I’m going to be a PJ just like Joel when I grow up. A man of integ—”
“Integrity,” Miss Stanton enunciated. Pain flashed across her face with Bradley’s words. Joel doubted Bradley saw because she quickly hedged it. He determined to put his prayer pedal to the metal so that Bradley would get to grow up.
“Integrenary.” Bradley skewed his face.
“In. Teg. Rit. Tee,” she repeated. “Bathroom, tater.”
“Okay, gator.” Bradley ambled toward the building with an unsteady gait.
“You sure he’ll make it up those steps without falling?” Joel eyed Bradley until double steel doors swallowed him.
“Probably not, but he’d be mortally wounded with embarrassment if I helped him in front of the other students. Mr. Montgomery, I apologize for Bradley’s personal questions. He hasn’t been raised with the best of manners or social skills.”
Joel shrugged. “Kid’s just curious. Besides, it’s no secret to those who know me that having children is not on the radar for me.” Joel wanted to laugh at the curious look that flashed in the teacher’s eyes. It seemed to him that kids usually just spoke aloud what adults only had the guts to think.
He considered that he felt so mesmerized by her a blessing. Without knowing, she was keeping his mind off why he hated this town so much. It also helped that the school sat miles from the house on Haven Street. The spot where his life had unraveled, beginning with the breakup of his parents’ marriage and ending with his mother’s desertion of him. Then the fatal accident on her way back that snuffed out her life, and his hope of ever seeing her again.
Joel scanned the streets past the school yard where he’d worn out many sneakers and bicycle tires. Some good times, yeah. But the bad overshadowed and overtook them. In short, this wretched place haunted him with too many painful questions.
The only person with answers was the last person Joel ever wanted to speak to or see again. Questions like why his mom had been on her way back to Refuge from wherever she’d gone after abandoning him at age seven. Was it to come get Joel as she promised? Or even better, to reconcile her marriage so they could be a family again as he’d prayed and imagined night and day for three years?
“I understand you were born in Refuge. Do you come back here often?” Amber’s gentle voice tapped into his thoughts. Joel blinked a moment, figuring out how long he’d been staring like a lost astronaut into space, probably with a hopeless expression that matched the dismal chasm this town opened in him. His teammates had been right. This was tougher than he’d anticipated. He didn’t like not being in total control of his emotions and thoughts. He pondered how to answer her.
“You’re right. I was born here.” He hated the crack in his voice and forced a smile he didn’t feel.
He could tell by her concerned expression that she wasn’t fooled by the hedging veneer.
Another part of his mind rippled with pleasure that she had retained that bit of personal information about him. Her smile and soft voice eased the sadness of missing his mother. He cleared his throat. “I don’t recall hearing the Stanton name growing up here. So what about you? What brought you to Refuge?”
Her eyes lit with wit. “A car brought me here. I want to know why you’re avoiding my original question.”
Joel chuckled. She joined him as they walked along the grass. He’d forgotten how it felt to laugh with a lady.
“Well?” She lifted a brow; the smile never left her face.
He bent to pick up a gravel pebble, staring first at the chipped ridges, then at her. “I haven’t been back here since I moved away.”
Surprise shone in her eyes. He handed her the rock. “Memories live here that I’ve spent a lifetime trying to forget. I have a longtime rift with a family member who still lives here. So I try to avoid the place.”
He didn’t want to dredge up the memories by talking about them. But something in her eyes called to him. She placed the rock back in his hand then pulled out a stick of red licorice from her jacket pocket and peeled the plastic wrap off it. “Then it was truly a sacrifice for you to come here for Bradley. That speaks well of your character. Want half?”
He took the licorice, loving the smell, but hating the memories it evoked. He didn’t want to hurt the teacher’s feelings. Uncle Dean kept bowls full of red licorice at his house. “He used to give me one every day after school,” Joel surprised himself by saying.
She nodded. “I think I know the man in question.”
Joel nearly choked on the candy. He stopped chewing and stared at her, feeling his jaw harden like the rock in his palm. “Excuse me?”
“Dean DuPaul. You’re the spitting image of him. How long’s it been since you spoke to your father, Mr. Montgomery?”
Joel shook his head. “He’s not my father. He’s my uncle, my father’s brother. They had different fathers, so their last names don’t match. Dean betrayed my family and I have no use for the man.” The words felt bitter even with the layer of sweetness coating Joel’s mouth. She nodded again, eyeing him with what Joel interpreted as concern. He needed to stop looking into those compassionate, compelling green eyes. Doing so made him want to get all soft and talk about it.
He forced his eyes to an about-face and his feet to march ahead as he motioned with his hand. “Let’s move on.” Hopefully she’d get that he didn’t want to talk about it further. Relief melted the tension from his jaw and shoulders when she fell into step beside him.
They meandered toward the ranks of Bradford pear trees flanking the concrete walk leading up to the school entrance. “Tell me about Miss Stanton,” Joel said, really wanting to know.
“There’s not much to tell.” She tugged her shirt hem much the same way Bradley had earlier.
Joel bit back a smile. “Really?” He leaned closer.
She looked everywhere but at him. “Really.”
He had a hard time believing that. Her chin lifted and she squinted her eyes at a yard scuffle erupting near the jungle gym. Another teacher blazed in, looking intent to deal with it.
Joel stepped off the path to a patch of sparse lawn which reminded him of Bradley’s thinning hair. He kicked a dirt clod. Dust layered the toe of his boot. “What kind of cancer does Bradley have?” Joel cringed inwardly, wishing he’d eased in instead of crashing into the subject.
Amber stopped and stared somberly at the scattered dirt. “Leukemia.” Emotion thickened her voice. “Without a successful bone marrow transplant, he’ll be—” she paused, swallowing “—gone by the end of the school year. I know God can step in and intervene either way. Regardless of whether his time is long or short, I intend to make it matter.” She lifted her face to meet his. “So, thank you very much for coming here today.”
Joel’s respect for her went up a notch. It took a unique person to teach children with special needs. Then to champion the task of making life matter to a dying child—he admired her big-time.
She shifted her stance as Bradley emerged from the brick school. Joel clenched his jaw. No need to cry in front of the kid, right? Today was supposed to be his dream come true. Joel was determined to go all out to accomplish that. Fact was, Bradley had already bunkered down into Joel’s heart. “Kid’s cute.”
“He knows it, too.” Pleasant laughter trailed her words.
Bradley hobbled up, darting his gaze from one to the other, making google eyes. Joel tugged off Bradley’s glasses, handing them to Amber. He swooped him up on his shoulders and galloped around more gently than he would if he were toting a well child. Bradley squealed with laughter.
Joel set him down and adopted a conspiratorial whisper. “Wanna hear my brilliant idea?”
Bradley leaned in, mimicking the whisper. “Yes.”
“How about we make you an honorary PJ for the day?”
Bradley’s shouts pierced the air then he ran off to tell his friends.
Over the next two hours, Joel felt anchored to Miss Stanton like a tether strap. He could mill around. Should even. Had no desire to. Completely fascinated with this small-town teacher, he soaked up her presence like drought-cracked earth after rain.
Too bad she lived in this tree-infested town. He’d like to get to know her better. Besides, in his line of work, long-term was tough. Not only that, her persona blared maternal!
The crackle of an ailing sound monitor preceded the high-pitched screech of toe-curling feedback. Joel shifted toward the announcer.
“I’m Mr. McCauley, the principal of this school. Though it’s daytime, students wanted to welcome our military visitors with a fireworks display and a special program, followed by our national anthem to be sung by one of our students.” His gaze sparkled with pride as it roved over the crowd of servicemen.
He swept his hand in an arc. “Gentlemen, we welcome you.”
Bottle rockets, lit by students with the assistance of teachers, streaked into blue sky. Screaming whistles zinged through the air, leaving spirals of twirling white smoke in their wakes. Cardboard cones on a concrete pad shot multicolor fire streams in regal hues.
Tasuta katkend on lõppenud.
