A Soldier's Promise

His nose practically touched the window when he said, “And since your whole purpose for being on this drive had to be to snoop on my property, this invitation should make you very happy.”

She sensed his mind still churning, as if he weren’t finished proving to her he’d figured out her scheme. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said, “And you’ll never be invited back so you’d better take advantage of this offer right now.”

For some reason, she decided if he did say that, she’d feel the loss, much more than she would have expected. Maybe it was the way he looked in those aviator sunglasses. He had a movie-star quality that she quite inappropriately noticed at this particular moment. Sort of a Gerard Butler cocky masculinity. She had a long way to go before forming a lasting impression of Mike Langston, but she really liked Gerard Butler.

Besides, what choice did she have? If he wouldn’t move his car, she couldn’t go anywhere. The only direction open to her was forward. She could pull in front of the house, wait until he pulled in as well and then maneuver quickly around and head down the drive. If Carrie was still wearing the earbuds, she might not even look out the window. And perhaps Mike wouldn’t tell his daughter about the spy mission.

Brenna spoke out the two inches open at the top of her window. “Fine. But don’t think for a minute that I’m interpreting this as a social invitation.”

He almost smiled. “I know you’re smarter than that. Actually, this is more an intimidation tactic. I’m much better in that arena than I am the social one.”

I’ll bet you are. She eased her car into Drive and gently pressed the accelerator. The Mazda made a mournful screech and cleared a foot or so between it and the truck. Brenna didn’t want to look at her trunk lid. She’d check it out when she was back in her own drive and could cry in private.

A moment later she pulled in front of Mike’s cabin. She waited for him to park and then shifted into Reverse. Her ploy to execute a quick escape was working. Until the front door opened and Carrie stepped out.

“Miss Sullivan, hi!”

Darn it. She stopped, rolled her window down all the way and looked for mosquitoes. The zapper appeared to be doing its job, so she stepped out of the car. Leaving now would look much more suspicious than following through with a good ol’ North Georgia howdy. “Hi, Carrie.”

“What are you doing here?”

She glanced at Mike, who had an elbow on the top of his truck and was watching her through those sunglasses. His full mouth quirked up in a smirk that made the teacher in her want to threaten him with a visit to the assistant principal. And made the woman in her want to—

Stop it, Brenna. Not helpful.

She had to answer Carrie, not let her thoughts careen in another inappropriate direction. “Well, I...I was...”

“Miss Sullivan got lost, Carrie,” Mike said. “I encountered her trying to back out of our driveway and suggested she come up to the house and turn around.”

Carrie gave Brenna an incredulous stare. “But you’ve lived in this stupid town for, like, forever. How could you get lost?”

Brenna shot a quick look at Mike. “I’ve only lived here four years,” she said. “And I...ah, I’ve never ventured beyond the gristmill.”

Mike threw his keys on a rough-hewn table next to the front door. “You must have been daydreaming today, then,” he said. “There aren’t any houses but this one past the mill.”

“We live in the booniest of the boondocks,” Carrie said. “No one ever comes out this far.”

“Why don’t you offer Miss Sullivan some iced tea?” Mike said.

“I r-really shouldn’t stay....” Brenna stammered.

Carrie clasped her hands together. “Oh, please. Other than repair guys, you’re our first visitor. Can’t you come inside and talk for a while?” As an added incentive, she said, “We have air-conditioning.” She swept her arm around the porch, indicating the objects her great-grandmother had probably left behind. “You wouldn’t think so because of all this old stuff, but I swear we do.”

Brenna recognized an old wooden butter churn, handmade baskets, a few primitive iron tools on the wall. “These things are interesting,” she said.

“If you like all these old things, you’ll love the inside.” A hopeful look on her face, Carrie held the door open.

“But your father...” Brenna said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want company after working all day.”

“I suggested the tea, didn’t I?” Mike said. “Besides, after you have a look around, this place will have left a permanent impression on you.” He lowered his voice. “And that should be well worth the trouble of the minor car damage you’re taking home as a souvenir.”

With no way to decline, Brenna preceded him inside and into one large room with a door and a hallway leading from it.

The inside of the cabin was basically Spartan, with a few well-used furnishings that Brenna decided must have been favorites of Mrs. Langston. An antique oak sideboard stood against one wall. A matching washstand and primitive chair occupied another. Facing a rugged stone fireplace was an early-twentieth-century sofa with wood arms and cushions that had been flattened by years of sitting. Only a floppy-eared coonhound lying on the braided rug in front of the hearth would have made the scene a perfect blend of countrified necessity and simplicity. But there was no dog, just the three of them.

Carrie called from the kitchen. “Dad, why are you home? Isn’t it early?”

He glanced at Brenna before answering. “I came to check on things here. I got a call from an unidentified female at the shop, and when I went to answer, no one was there.”

His glance mutated into a hard stare. Feeling her face flush, Brenna began concentrating on native animal prints on the walls.

“It wasn’t me,” Carrie said.

“I didn’t know that,” he answered. “I called here, but no one answered. I was worried.”

Brenna remembered the earbud cords dangling from Carrie’s head. No wonder she didn’t hear the phone ring.

“Sheesh, Dad, you don’t have to check up on me every minute,” Carrie said from the kitchen.

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said, settling on the plaid sofa. “How’s that tea coming?”

Carrie came into the living room with a tray holding three glasses. She set the tray on a scarred but clean pine coffee table and handed a tumbler to Brenna. Brenna sat on the other end of the sofa and smiled at the faded images of deer frolicking around the frosty outside of the glass.

“It’s instant,” Carrie said, looking down at Brenna. “Dad said I should learn to make it from real tea bags, but I don’t see why.”

Mike picked up a glass and took a sip. “I just thought you might like to do things the way your great-grandmother did.”

Carrie gave him an incredulous look. “Why would I want to do that? Everything was such work back then.”

He crossed and uncrossed his legs, cleared his throat, took another sip of tea and finally stood. “I’m going to change out of this uniform.”

“Good idea, Dad,” Carrie said. “You have grease on your shirt.”

“Goes with the job,” he said and headed toward the hallway off the living room. “I’ll just be in there. You ladies talk all you want.”

A few seconds later, Brenna heard a door close. Carrie sat in the spot vacated by her father and leaned close. “Do you see how awful it is out here, Miss Sullivan?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Brenna didn’t want to put herself in the middle of any family dispute. Besides, she truly didn’t find Carrie’s living conditions to be “awful.” Remote, yes, especially for a teen who was still more than a year away from getting her driver’s license.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Carrie said, “but my father really likes it out here. He keeps talking about nature and fresh air until I just want to scream. Spiders and mice are nature, too, you know.”

Brenna smiled. “Your cabin is really only about three or four miles out of town,” she said. “I’ll bet some of the people in town have spiders, too.”

“I suppose, but we might as well be a hundred miles away for all the times I get to go to the stores and do fun stuff.”

“Your dad never takes you shopping?”

“Oh, sure, to the grocery and the hardware store.” She grimaced. “I guess that’s his idea of fun. And any time I complain he just tells me that we have all we need.”