A Soldier's Promise. Cheryl Wyatt

ran off the road.

      “Do I want to know?” Joel asked.

      “Hey! No. Sorry. I thought you were Celia.”

      “She’s shorter than me.”

      Amber laughed, surprised how it pleased her to hear Joel’s voice. He probably called for an update on Bradley.

      “How’s Bradley?”

      She knew it. “He’s doing great. You really made an impression. His caseworker phoned to tell me he hasn’t stopped talking about you since Friday.” I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either.

      Amber tapped a finger to her forehead to the beat of her CD. Stop. Stop. Stop. Last thing you need is another heartache.

      “What about you?” Joel asked.

      It took her a second to figure out the last thing she said. Her thoughts rang so loud, she sometimes couldn’t remember if her mind or her mouth spoke last. “I’m fine.”

      “That you are.”

      Was he flirting? She fanned herself, hating the giddy factor. “How are you?”

      “You tell me.”

      She refused to bite. Obviously he flirted with all girls or he wouldn’t be so suave at it. A sick feeling roiled inside. Leave it to her to be attracted to a womanizer. Yet so much of what she’d glimpsed of his character spoke of the opposite. “I may lose you.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I’m getting into an area of low signal. Let me pull over.”

      “Just stay safe, Amber.”

      Amber. He’d called her Amber. Not Miss Stanton. “I’m not on the interstate. About the only thing that could get me out here is a raccoon.”

      “Out here?”

      “I’m heading to my parents’ fishing pond.”

      “Do you fish?”

      “I love it.”

      “So do I. Don’t get to as much as I’d like. I plan to retire in eight years. I hope to have more time then.”

      “Wow. Eight years? How old are you?”

      “Thirty. That puts me in until I’m thirty-eight. I’ll have twenty years because they counted my ROTC in high school and college. My dream is to be a skydiving instructor for civilians and new recruits since I’ll be old and decrepit.”

      “Thirty-eight is hardly decrepit.”

      “For a Special Forces soldier, thirty borders on geriatric. Forty’s ancient. Fifty’s antique. And sixty is not happening. They want the young pups in there who still feel invincible and whose knees don’t creak when they sneak up on the enemy.”

      Amber laughed. “I hear rumors they have skydiving instructors at Eagle Point. You could come back to your old stomping ground.”

      Why had she blurted that mindless suggestion? “Not a chance.”

      A little ping of disappointment hit her with his rapid-fire response, which boldly shot down her idea with zero hesitation.

      Wanting to keep things light, Amber’s mind grasped for straws from her wit arsenal. “You could fish sooner than eight years, ya know.”

      “Is that right?”

      Relief hit her that she could hear the smile in his voice again. “That’s right. When you make it back to visit Bradley, you two can fish at the pond. Bradley loves it.”

      “Is the pond in Refuge?”

      Her words had stripped all humor from his. Way to go, Stanton. Keep batting foul balls and run him right out of the park. But that’s what she wanted, right? Safe! Yeah, right. Maybe in baseball. The guy’s smile was lethal alone.

      “Refuge address, but out of town,” she answered.

      “That’s good. That might work.” His tone seemed thoughtful now. What an odd statement.

      “You’d come with us, right?” he asked.

      “Sure, if you want.” Did he just ask her out? Or had he simply been polite and included her, since it happened to be her parents’ place? And why did she dare even hope, after the heartache she stumbled out of last year? She wished she were more experienced with this sort of thing. According to her track record, she seemed destined for failure where relationships were concerned. “However, if you need some alone time with Bradley, I can just give you directions.”

      “No way. If I’m there, you’re there. I’d love to see you again. Plus, I’ll need a little moral support when I can get free to make it back. You know how I have that aversion to Refuge.”

      The hollow echo in his voice floated through her heart. His transparency caught her off guard. “I remember. So, how did you come to know about Bradley’s letter?”

      “I’m the PJ he mentioned who grew up there. That’s why Dream Corps contacted me.”

      “I didn’t know that. They kept the whole ordeal hidden from me beyond the note and phone call. Celia knew you guys were surprising Bradley and me, so she and the other staff put together the production to welcome you.”

      “It was awesome. My guys still talk about it. Celia, she’s the Hispanic-looking teacher, right?”

      “Yeah, the firecracker.”

      He laughed. “I wasn’t gonna say it. She married?”

      “Why, you interested?” Traitorous disappointment pinged her stomach again.

      Another laugh. “No, but my buddy Manny might be.”

      “Celia is dead set against getting involved with men in dangerous jobs. She lost her husband in the line of duty as a cop. Her goal is to steer clear of guys packing heat, and go for ones packing calculators instead. She also wants to date a Christian.”

      “Then I won’t encourage it. Manny is a backslider and running on the wild side right now.”

      If Joel was using Christian lingo, could he be a believer? She’d gotten the feeling at school that he was. Then again, so was Bart, and he still bashed her heart to pieces.

      “What about you? What are your life goals, Amber?”

      To have a baby. “Something that will never happen.”

      “Come on. Tell me. I told you mine.”

      “Maybe in time.”

      “Well, whatever you dream for, I hope it comes true.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Hey, I need sleep, and you need to escape the clutches of that rabid teacher-eating coon sneaking up behind you.”

      “Very funny.”

      His chuckle eased her tensions. “Did you look?”

      She still was. “I’ll never tell.” Her eyes slipped away from her rearview mirror.

      “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch. Later, tater.”

      She smiled, touched that he’d remember her and Bradley’s special exchange. “Later, gator.”

      The only thing Amber could think about as she drove the remaining miles was how pleasant Joel’s voice sounded, and how Bart had never once called and e-mailed her on the same day.

      It’s just for Bradley, she told herself.

      On her mom’s patio five hours later, Amber eyed her watch. “I should go soon. Psychoticat is out of tuna and on a hunger strike. The market closes in two hours.”

      “Dad will be home in a few minutes. Can’t you stay a bit?”

      “Is