A Soldier's Promise. Karen Templeton

       Chapter One

      Sweat streamed down Levi Talbot’s back as he sat in his pickup across the street, watching Valerie Lopez paint the window trim of a house he hadn’t set foot in for... Damn. Ten years, at least.

      She was even skinnier than he remembered, sharp shoulder blades shifting, bunching over the scoop of a white tank top that teased the waistband of her low-rise jeans. Her pale hair was still long, wadded on top of her head, pieces sticking out every which way. In a nearby play yard a dark-haired baby sat gnawing on a plastic toy, while her older sister lay on her belly on the mottled floorboards, quietly singing as she scribbled, bare feet swinging to and fro. Then the little girl shoved to her knees, thrusting the open coloring book toward her mother.

      “Mama! I gave her hair like mine! See?”

      Levi saw Val glance over, her smile gentle as she bent to get a better look. Chuckling softly, she fingered the girl’s deep brown curls.

      “A huge improvement, I’d say,” she said. The child giggled, making Val smile even bigger, and Levi flinched.

      How the hell was he supposed to do this? Whatever this was.

      And why the hell had it never occurred to him he might actually have to make good on that dumb-ass promise he’d made to Tomas when they’d first enlisted?

      A breeze lanced his damp shirt, making him shiver. Squinting in the bolt of sunlight glancing off the sharply angled tin roof, Levi frowned at the house, which seemed to frown right back at him. An uneasy cross between Victorian and log cabin, the house seemed to slump in on itself, like it was too tired to care anymore. Or had finally succumbed to its identity crisis. And slapping some paint over what was most likely rotting wood wasn’t going to change that.

      He could relate.

      He waited for an SUV to pass—not much traffic on this stretch of Main Street, the last gasp of civilization before miles of nothing—before getting out of his truck, his boots crunching on asphalt chewed up even worse than usual after last winter’s heavy snow. A hawk keened, annoyed, from a nearby piñon, whose branches tangled with the deep blue sky. From inside the house, a dog exploded into frenzied barking. Val and the child turned, the little girl’s gaze more curious than concerned. Her mother’s, however...

      Yeah.