A Soldier's Promise

“That’s why I was concerned,” she said. “I meant to ask Carrie if you were working today, but...”

“Miss Sullivan...”

“Brenna.”

“Brenna.” He turned off her engine. “Let’s go into the office. Let me buy you a drink.”

“A drink? I don’t think so...”

He pointed through the picture window into the customer waiting room. “See that machine? I was offering you a Mountain Dew or a 7-Up.”

“Oh, of course.”

They settled at a small table. Mike took Brenna’s order for a Diet Coke and brought the can to the table. He popped the top on his Mountain Dew and sat across from her. “Why are you really here, Brenna?”

“I told you. I heard a ping...”

“Or a ding, right?”

She didn’t respond, and he figured it was time to eliminate pings and dings from their vocabulary. “I’m thinking this visit has everything to do with my daughter’s absence from school today.”

She sighed, turned the can in her hands without opening it. “Okay, fine. I realize I’m transparent, but I don’t really care. I am wondering why Carrie was absent.”

He purposefully didn’t answer for as long as he could stretch out the silence. If that made her nervous, so be it.

“Let’s be totally up front with each other,” she said after a moment.

“Usually the best way to be.”

“I’m concerned about Carrie.”

“So you said Friday night.”

Brenna folded her arms on top of the table and leaned slightly forward. “I want to know why she missed school today.”

“Is the school board having teachers double as truant officers now, Brenna?”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” she said in a teacher voice that made Mike remember all the knuckle raps he’d gotten in Catholic school.

“You should be thankful someone cares enough to ask about Carrie,” she added.

He would be if he wasn’t so certain that Miss Sullivan had her own devious theory about why Carrie was absent, and he was looking like the Evil Mr. Langston. He glanced at his watch, knowing he was still on the clock. How much more time was he going to devote to this witch hunt? Despite the view across the table, which was pretty darned attractive, he knew he’d be better off cutting it short. “She’s not feeling well,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“You really want me to tell you?”

She sat stone-still and waited.

Should he reveal a private detail of his daughter’s life to this stranger? Oh, well, at least she was a woman, which made the delicate subject easier to broach. He released a long breath. “Okay, here’s the story. About one day every month Carrie misses school and stays in bed with a heating pad on her stomach. This started when she was about eleven. If you can’t figure out why that is, I suggest you go to the local library and take out a book on the subject of puberty.”

Her face flushed. She cleared her throat. Mike got a perverse sort of pleasure out of seeing her discomfort.

“I see,” she said. “That is an acceptable reason.” She straightened her spine and said, “Was telling me that so hard?”

Well, yeah, it was. He’d only recently learned about this part of Carrie’s life, and the day she’d talked about it with him he’d felt about as capable of handling the discussion as he would have been teaching a quilting class. To answer Brenna’s question, he merely shrugged.

“I don’t think we need to be on opposing sides here,” she said.

“I’m on my daughter’s side,” he snapped. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’d like to help Carrie,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She seems lost and lonely. I’m sure you’ve noticed that.”

“We’re doing fine.” Maybe if he kept saying that, it would eventually be true.

“I’m glad to hear that, but I’d still like to make myself available to Carrie if she needs to talk.”

They were going down this road again. Why did every woman he’d ever met think they had to repeat everything? Did they believe all men were born with poor hearing?

“I already told you that talking to Carrie is okay with me. Just don’t push. Let her initiate these conversations. I don’t want anyone pressuring her.”

She honestly appeared shocked. “I would never. We have rules in the school system that we have to follow.”

“And I have rules as a father that I intend to follow. No taking my kid to places I don’t know about. No digging for information, and no making her uncomfortable.” He should have stopped there, but something inside him made him blurt out the very thing he shouldn’t have said. “And no trying to be a substitute mother.”

She stood, her can of soda still unopened. “I assure you, Mike, I have no interest in being anyone’s mother. I’ve said what I came to say...”

“And found out what you came to find out?”

“Yes. I’m going to take your word for the reason for Carrie’s absence.”

“Swell.”

She walked out the door and got into her perfectly running silver Mazda. As she pulled out of the parking lot, he was still thinking about how she looked marching to that car. Determined, offended and, he smiled, cute.

* * *

“YOU KNOW BETTER, Brenna. This is your own stupid fault.”

She consciously eased off the accelerator. She didn’t need to get a ticket on top of everything else. But she didn’t stop scolding herself.

“This is why, since Jefferson Middle School, you’ve kept a strict nonintervention policy with regard to your students. You learned the hard way to let the Dianas of the world provide their shoulders to cry on while you just did your job and concentrated on your own problems.” She grimaced. “Of which there are enough, I might remind you.”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and tried to think of anything but the past fifteen minutes with Mike Langston. No use. “What is going on with that family, anyway?” she said. “Did Carrie’s mother die? Did she leave them? Is she still in their lives but only on a temporary basis?” Brenna was familiar with divorcing parents who used their children as pawns in a power struggle. She hoped that wasn’t the case with the Langstons.

Truly that scenario didn’t seem likely. Mike had said on Friday that he wasn’t married. And Mike and Carrie had recently moved to Mount Union and definitely seemed to be struggling to adjust to each other and their new home. And another thing...why would Mike choose a place so far out of town to live in? Was he hiding something? Was he purposely trying to keep his daughter out of the mainstream? She was just a kid. She needed contacts, friends.

“That’s easy enough to figure out,” Brenna said. “Diana knows the history of every person and building in this town. She’ll know about property by the old mill.”