At the last bell, a horn sounded in the parking lot.
Amber brushed Bradley’s arm. “Your ride is waiting, tater.”
A frown beset by a flash of irritation drew Joel’s face tight as he glared at the car, a dilapidated source of incessant honking which Amber deemed Bradley’s ride.
Bradley stole one last hug, then shuffled off like a slug in the slow lane. Joel watched him, looking coiled and ready to pounce should Bradley stumble.
The car door swung open and a barrage of female screeching tumbled out. Compassion settled on Joel’s face.
“What makes his gait unsteady?” Joel asked.
“His illness,” Amber replied.
He eyed the car and its driver with what she interpreted as disdain as it jolted forward. It sped from the lot, leaving twin tire trails and poufs of silvery-white dust. “Car muffler’s obviously MIA. That his mom?”
“No. Bradley’s birth mother abandoned him.”
Joel twisted to peer at her. Had his skin blanched a shade lighter with her words?
He flicked a glance down the road. “Who picked him up just then?”
“His foster mom.”
“That the best they can do for him?”
“There is a court hearing scheduled to secure a better arrangement for Bradley.” She glossed over the fact that the woman was one violation away from losing her foster license and custody of Bradley. Her answer must not have pacified Joel.
With pinpoint accuracy and acutely unnerving silence, Joel stared into her eyes like a sniper to a scope.
Amber brushed hair behind her ear. “We suspect she’s neglectful on many levels.”
His brows crinkled. “He’s still with her, why?”
“Because we need concrete proof, and she’s the person his mother left him with.”
“Why doesn’t she let someone adopt him? He’s an adorable little kid. Though I suppose with his illness, most families wouldn’t want to take him.”
I would. “Adoption requires consent from his biological mother. After a two-month quest, we located her, hoping his diagnosis might spur her to want time with him.”
“Did it?”
“No. She signed over rights, saying she couldn’t deal with a healthy kid, much less a sick one. His caseworker and attorney subpoenaed paperwork to determine where things stand legally with the foster mother, and whether he needs to be a ward of the state.”
Joel peered at his watch, then to the choppers.
“Do you need to go?” She wondered what the page had been about. Had to be something big, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot if it were something top secret.
“Not yet. The page earlier set us on standby alert. We’re packing up just in case we get deployed. We’re a quick reaction force, so I like to be ready.” He dipped his head toward her collar. “I forgot to give his glasses back.”
She looked down, and tugged them from her pocket. “That’s okay. It’ll give me an excuse to run them by his house.”
Joel lifted a boot to the school yard slide. “You need an excuse?”
“His foster mother can be…volatile.”
He stared at the glasses in Amber’s hand. “No wonder he wished for a family. How can they allow a questionable individual to be a foster parent?”
“I gather she put up a good front at first. Lately, not so good.”
“Poor guy’s got a lot on his plate.” Joel lifted hands to soldiers gathering tiny flags the children had left them. He caught one they tossed. “You said we. Are you involved in the process as his teacher?”
She nodded, about to clarify she had applied for a foster care license to take Bradley in. Something stopped her. “I spearheaded the search for his mother—”
Joel’s reaction silenced her. He first looked slapped, then detached as he faced the swings. His head dropped forward toward the ground and he swallowed. His expression like a flint, he set his face skyward, as if searching for something. As if suddenly remembering Amber, he swiveled toward her and their eyes locked.
Her breath hitched at the bold, compelling intensity. Amber couldn’t tell his thoughts. He didn’t speak, just stared. She stared back, wanting badly to know what in the world was happening. Not just here between them, but globally. A shrill jingle made him blink.
She flinched, the moment lost.
He flipped the cell open. “Yes, Commander…I am aware, sir…We anticipated that and are only ten from liftoff…You’re welcome…I know, sir. I’m praying, too.”
Joel closed the phone, dropped it in his front pocket. “Can they spare you a minute?” He darted a glance at the school.
“For a few minutes.” Amber followed. “Can you tell me what’s happened? We’re all understandably frightened.”
“It’s all over the news. An earthquake hit Asia, causing floods in the tsunami zone.”
“Earthquake?” Amber blurted.
“Thousands of South Indians are in dire need along the coastline. My team will be part of the humanitarian mission.”
Amber deflated, glad World War III hadn’t started. Then guilt assailed her. The tragedy might not have struck her world, but it had struck someone’s. Lots of someones. “How horrible.” She held Joel’s empathetic expression.
He nodded. “Listen, I intended to make things real special for Bradley, but literally the ocean came up. Will he understand?” Uncertainty flickered behind the calm in his eyes.
Was he kidding? “Oh, Joel. You have no idea the impact of what you’ve done here today, do you? All these soldiers, those helicopters, your jump…un-be-lievable. Bradley has never experienced anything so profoundly amazing.” Neither have I. The world needs more men like this one, Lord.
The glimmer resurfaced in his eyes. Not tears really, just tangible emotion. “That’s good. I hate to cut this convo short, but I should help pick up.” He moved toward soldiers who passed by, loading supplies. They waved him back, so he retrained his gaze on her. She guessed this was goodbye.
“I feel exceedingly blessed to have met you, Special Soldier Montgomery.” She stretched her hand for a departing shake.
He didn’t budge except to blink down at her palm before casting a thoughtful expression at her. He scratched a finger over his temple where tanned skin melted into an onyx-shadowed buzz cut. “Can I, uh—can I get your contact info?”
Her heart thudded warmth onto her face. “Um…Okay, sure.”
“You know, for updates on Bradley. And stuff.”
Stuff? What constituted stuff? “Of course.” She patted her pockets for something to write with and on.
So did he, and came up with a blue splotched paper.
“That’s Bradley’s letter,” she said.
He eyed her head and grinned. “And this—” he tugged the blue pen from behind her ear “—is the culprit.”
They shared a laugh as she wrote down her contact information. Fending off a snicker, she slipped the pen between the paper folds while he peered past her.
Amber handed him the bulky letter. “I know you need to go.”
“In a minute.”
She