A Soldier's Promise. Cheryl Wyatt

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СКАЧАТЬ are serious accusations. We have to keep documenting. In the meantime, pray for his well-being and safety. I hate the thought of him not getting decent meals. Also, Bradley’s doctor pulled me aside at the market. He confided he has reason to suspect Foster Lady’s not giving Bradley his meds. If he proves it, he can have her court-ordered to administer them.”

      The sound of liquid spraying in spurts. “That’s horrible. He needs to gain weight and have both proper nutrition and the treatments in order to stay eligible for the transplant, right?”

      “Right.”

      “Where is he in that process?”

      “Moving up. Closer to finding a donor.”

      “I’d abduct him if I were you.”

      Amber laughed, knowing Celia kidded. Still, she was really glad the FBI didn’t have a tap on her line.

      “When Bradley’s oncologist voiced his concerns, believe me, it tempted me. But I can’t help him if I’m sitting in jail. He said if Bradley’s levels don’t rise, he’ll have him admitted to be sure he stays medicated. We have to hurry up and wait. And pray.”

      “And pray.” Water off, then on. Something metal plunked against stainless steel. A large splash.

      “I better let you go before you drop the phone in the water and electrocute yourself. Besides, I’m in a lowsignal area. Cel? Hello?”

      “Amb, you’re cutting out. Anyway, I said if prayer doesn’t work, I’ll help you devise a plan to kidnap Bradley and—”

      She lost the call in the deep country roads. No cell towers out here, just soybean fields and forests dense with poison ivy. She’d be able to reach Celia up ahead.

      Once there, her phone rang as she went to flip it open. Amber switched it from speaker to earpiece and hit Talk. “Beat me to the draw. You better hope the FBI isn’t listening in. They’ll take us both to jail.”

      A heavy silence invaded the phone, then a huff of air and deep, masculine laughter. Amber nearly 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.”

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