A Soldier's Promise

Diana took a step back. “And you’re making that sound like a national disaster because...?”

Brenna tucked the card back in the pack and walked around the counter. She took Diana’s arm and led her into the hall. “It’s a long story, but if you want to hear it...”

“Can you tell me over a sloppy joe and iced tea?”

“No. I don’t want anyone to hear.” As briefly as she could, she explained about the happenings of Friday evening.

“Wow,” Diana said. “This girl is the daughter of Mr. Tall, Dark and Mechanically Inclined?”

“Yes, she is. And she’s a troubled kid, just the kind you like to bring home.”

“And yet...” Diana paused. “Apparently she didn’t have a map to get to the right place and ended up with you instead.”

“This isn’t funny,” Brenna said. “I think her father, the guy you obviously regard as Mr. Wonderful, is keeping her home so she won’t have contact with me or anyone else. Or worse.”

“I don’t regard Mike the mechanic as anything in particular,” Diana said. “I just pointed out that he was a hunk and available.” She waited before adding, “But for the record, I didn’t see anything in his quiet nature that would suggest he’s holding family members captive.”

“Come on, Diana,” Brenna said. “You barely spoke to the guy the other day. And besides, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. Don’t you ever see the news?”

“Look, if your instincts are telling you that something is wrong in this case, why don’t you have BethAnn call the house and talk to the girl?”

“Get the guidance counselor involved? No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Brenna learned five years ago that getting officials involved could be devastating.

“Brenna, you tell me all the time that you don’t want personal relationships with your students, and if you really feel that way, referring your concern to a guidance counselor is the thing to do.”

“But Carrie indicated a trust in me. I have to handle this.” Whether I think it’s the best thing to do or not.

“Fine. You call the house, then.”

“I’ll do better than that. After school I’m going to Alvin’s Garage.” A few seconds passed before she smiled at Diana. “Coming in this morning I noticed a clunk coming from under the hood of my car. I should probably get it looked at by a professional.”

Diana studied Brenna’s face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Brenna asked.

“I’m just trying to figure out if you’re a pod person who managed to inhabit my best friend’s body.”

Brenna smirked. “Granted, this is unusual behavior from me.”

“Sure is. As I recall, the only life you like to interfere in is mine,” Diana added.

Brenna smiled. “But I’m all done with yours, and this is a special case. This kid came to me seeking help or advice or maybe even compassion. I don’t know.”

“But you’re determined to find out.”

“I guess I am.”

“Then go get that junker of a car you own checked out. You can’t be driving around in an unsafe vehicle.”

Brenna nodded. “Exactly. Who knows how many lives I could be putting in jeopardy?”

“Now can we go to lunch? I’m starved.”

Within minutes of the dismissal bell that afternoon, Brenna pulled out of the parking lot and headed to Alvin’s Garage.

CHAPTER THREE

“LANGSTON, YOU GOT COMPANY!”

When he heard his boss holler, Mike poked his head out from under the hood of a ’92 Ford SUV and stared across the garage to the office door. How could he have company? He hardly knew anybody outside of his work buddies. Except...

Yeah, he knew that redhead talking to Alvin.

Mel Francher, who’d worked at the garage for more than ten years, came up and nudged Mike in his ribs. “You got the good-looking teacher coming to see you,” he said. “What’d you do? Poke a hole in her transmission fluid when she wasn’t looking?”

Mike scowled at him. “Never. I wouldn’t do anything to encourage her to come to the garage.”

Mike wiped his hands on a clean rag and slowly approached his boss and Miss Sullivan. In pale denim slacks and a loose-fitting white shirt, she looked more like a “Miss Sullivan” today and less like the woman who wore shorts and a T-shirt and lived in the neat little bungalow. She still looked good, but he missed the legs.

“You remember our schoolteacher, Mike?” Alvin said. “You worked on her car Friday.”

“Sure, I remember. What can I do for you, Miss Sullivan?”

“Call me Brenna,” she said. It was a simple gesture, but it came out more schoolteacher and less friend.

“Brenna said she heard a strange sound coming from under the hood this morning,” Alvin said. “She asked for you to take a look since you’re familiar with the car.”

“I’m familiar with the battery,” Mike said. “But sure, I’ll look.”

“I appreciate that, Mr.... Can I call you Mike?”

“I’ve got no objection to that,” he said. “Is your car in the lot?”

“Yes, right out here.” She led the way outside.

Mike got behind the wheel of the Mazda and turned on the engine. He leaned out the door and listened. “What did it sound like?” he asked Brenna.

“Oh, sort of a ding or a ping.”

He got out, walked to the front and angled his head close to the hood. “I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary,” he said.

“That’s odd. It was quite noticeable this morning.”

Mike suspected that something was noticeable, but he doubted it was a sound from Brenna’s engine. He was pretty sure that what Miss Teacher noticed was Carrie’s absence. Leaving the car purring gently, he said, “According to the sticker on your driver’s-side door, this automobile has been serviced regularly. I noticed the odometer reads just sixty-five thousand miles. This car is a honey for a seven-year-old vehicle. So the only problem you have is possibly its owner. I myself only buy American-made vehicles.”

She gave him an exasperated look.

He smiled to himself. “As I mentioned, a ping or a pong or a clink would be pretty rare on a car that has been maintained like yours has.”