This time the teacher’s learning the lesson…in love
Brenna Sullivan has a strict policy about not getting emotionally involved with her students. Yet there’s something about the new student, Carrie, and her father that has Brenna breaking all her rules.
Mike Langston’s parenting methods may be more than a little outdated, but Brenna is struck by the brave and honorable man he is and, despite her better judgment, she’s falling deeper and deeper for him. But how can she cross the line when their feelings start to grow?
“What did you think you were doing just now?” Mike asked.
“Helping to improve your relationship with your daughter.”
“That’s not your job.”
Brenna smirked at him. “I wouldn’t even consider it my job if you were doing yours.”
The blatant criticism was too much. When he couldn’t think of a comeback, he said, “This is so not your business, lady!”
A snort burst from her mouth or her nose, or somewhere, and Mike knew he’d gone too far. But so had she.
“Lady?” Coming from her lips, the word sounded like the worst sort of insult. “Did you just call me lady? The calendar says we’re in the twenty-first century, Mike.”
He rubbed his face. He wasn’t a chauvinist. Never had been. “Listen, check us out all you want. The bottom line is I don’t want my daughter in your house or anyone else’s without my knowledge. I hope I’m making myself clear.”
“Crystal.” Brenna managed a smile and a wave at Carrie in the truck. When Brenna turned back to Mike, she made sure her features displayed the seriousness of her intent.
Dear Reader,
We hear a lot today about soldiers coming home from battle zones. Joblessness, uncertainty and post-traumatic stress syndrome have become our working vocabulary to understand the men and women we are so indebted to.
In A Soldier’s Promise, I have isolated the story of one such brave man who returned home only to find the life he’d counted on no longer existed. But he forged ahead because of a promise he’d made to his dying wife and, with the help of friends, and one very special teacher, he learned that life isn’t over until you give up.
I hope you’ll enjoy the story of Mike and Brenna, one a soldier, one a teacher, both American heroes.
Cynthia Thomason
A Soldier’s Promise
Cynthia Thomason
CYNTHIA THOMASON
inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antique stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.
Having been a teacher, I know what a difficult, rewarding and inspiring job it can be. This book is dedicated to the great teachers I’ve worked with over the years, among them Darby, Tila, Linda, Bill and Rosemary. There are many students who owe their success to your guidance.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
BRENNA SULLIVAN SCRATCHED around the bottom of her large purse until she found the raggedy fan she’d been given as a wedding favor three years ago. She fanned her face vigorously while trying to squeeze under the shade of a scraggly oak tree in front of her car. Her fellow staff member and best friend in Mount Union, Georgia, approached from across the shimmering parking lot, causing Brenna to check her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Have I been standing out here in the ninety-degree sun long enough for even Super Teacher Diana Montgomery to be leaving the building?” she asked herself. “No matter. Another few minutes and I’ll be dead from heatstroke.”
“What are you still doing here?” Diana asked when she reached Brenna’s car. “It’s Friday afternoon. The students left over an hour ago. I expected you to have already begun celebrating the end of a successful first week of school.”
Brenna blew her bangs off her forehead with an impatient breath and leaned on the hood of her seven-year-old Mazda. “I wish I were.”
Diana looked confused. “What are you waiting for?”
“A mechanic. I called Alvin’s Garage forty-five minutes ago. And as usual, Alvin’s ‘We’re on our way’ is a gross exaggeration.”
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“Won’t start.”
Diana stared at the shiny silver sedan, which Brenna kept immaculate and in good running order. “Do you know why it won’t start?”
“Do I look like a mechanic?”
“You look like a wilted redheaded sunflower. Maybe it’s time to consider that mechanic a no-show. I’ll give you a lift home.”
“I can’t leave,” Brenna said. “I’ll give the guy another few minutes. I