A Soldier's Promise. Cheryl Wyatt

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