“What on earth is that?” Special needs teacher Amber Stanton grasped the desk and held her breath.

      Her best friend and co-teacher, Celia Muñez stared at Amber as if she’d morphed into a snail. “What?”

      “You don’t feel that?” Amber whispered.

      Ebony eyes waxed blank and oblivious. “Feel what?”

      Leave it to her zippy friend to be in the middle of a natural disaster and not know. Had Amber imagined it? No. The rumbling vibration beneath her feet strengthened. Ripples pulsed across the surface of the water in the small fishbowl on her desk. “Shh—” Amber leaned in. “Listen.” The windows gave a faint rattle. “That!” Amber clutched Celia’s shoulder in a pinch grip.

      “Cool it with the claws, will ya?” Celia peeled fingernails from her blouse. “It’s only—”

      “I know. Let’s get these kids outside.”

      “You know?” Now Celia looked properly stricken. “Who told?”

      “Shh. I don’t want the children frightened. Let’s go.”

      Celia tugged Amber back. “Hold on. They all know except Bradley. If you keep yapping, you’ll ruin the surp—”

      “Class—” Amber moved from Celia’s grasp. Why didn’t Administration ring the bell? “Line up at the door please.”

      Celia yanked Amber hard back behind the desk. “Not yet!”

      “Sit!” Celia waved the class down with choppy arm motions. Children sat, giggling as crayons jittered off slanted desks.

      Amber’s chest tightened. She turned a fierce gaze on Celia. “Obviously you have no idea how dangerous they can be.”

      Celia screwed up her terra-cotta–toned face. “They?”

      Amber helped children from seats, then leaned close to Celia’s ear. “Do not panic or react outwardly to what I am about to tell you, but I think we are having an earthquake.”

      A sharp laugh yelped from Celia, causing Amber’s face to jerk back. Celia slapped a hand to her mouth.

      Amber glared at her and ushered the class down the hall like a kiddie cattle drive. “Stay together, guys. Good.” Amber kept her teacher voice calm and helped stragglers along, including Celia.

      “Though this is frightening, it’s only minor and should stop any moment. I moved from California to get away from these things,” Amber said out of student earshot.

      “Looks like they followed you here.” Celia spoke in a wry voice. Amber’s pulse spiked. Did Celia forget Refuge sat atop the New Madrid fault? Amber pushed her feet against fear that weakened her knees. Please, Lord. Not now. Not here. Not even a thousand years from now. Not these children. Not on my watch. Celia maneuvered Bradley up to Amber as she flung open the double doors and stepped outside into—

      A war zone? Talk about shock and awe. Bradley gasped and froze beside her as a blast of cheers erupted. She grew cognizant of little hands shoving them forward into a sea of noise and green. Military stuff—everywhere. Amber and Bradley moved down concrete steps to grass where the entire school, sans her class, waited. A bugle charmed the air with a patriotic tune, and drums danced a rhythm with Amber’s pulse.

      Mouth agape, she peered at Celia, who winked.

      “Whoa!” Bradley’s voice cut through the chaos.

      Amber realized the roaring vibrations were military helicopters hovering above the school, fumigating the air with a sharp exhaust smell. Camo-fatigued men slid from ropes hanging out. One after another, they dropped to the ground. Helicopters lit on the lawn like twin gigantic metal grasshoppers. Thunderous chopping abated as the blades slowed to a halt.

      Bradley drew in a sharp breath. “Look! Look at him!”

      Amber followed the trajectory of the finger Bradley jabbed at the sky. She gasped. A uniformed man dangling from a white parachute etched with a blue USAF insignia penetrated clouds above them. How could a person jump from such heights? Amber tugged Bradley’s shoulder to move him back but a large hand halted her. She turned.

      A wide grin peeked at her from a dark face painted in calico earth tones. “Don’t worry, ma’am. He’s never landed on a lady’s head. Yet.” The camouflaged man chuckled then directed her class to join with others as if this were…

      Planned. Suddenly she knew. Her phone call. The letter. Dream Corps. Bradley’s wish coming true in a spectacular way.

      Slammed with a tidal wave of emotion, Amber sprawled fingers over her lip to smother a tremor.

      Celia’s hand circled her wrist, tugging it back down. “It’s okay to cry happy tears, chica. You’ve shed enough sad ones for him. Don’t quench the enormity of this moment. Revel in it.” Tears glistened in Celia’s eyes, too, though she prided herself on never crying. She pressed paper in Amber’s hand.

      Celia peeled the backing off a flag sticker and placed it on Bradley. Amber lifted hers and read the preprinted font:

      Welcome to Refuge. My name is Ms. Stanton. Faith Elementary, along with Dream Corps International, wish to thank you for your service to our country.

      Chills marched down her arms as the words took hold of her.

      “Oh!” Her head snapped up and her shoulders back as the parachutist landed mere feet in front of them. Bradley stumbled backward.

      The soldier grinned, took three steps forward, dropped to one knee, putting him nose to nose with Bradley, and saluted.

      Bradley sliced a clumsy hand to his forehead, causing his glasses to topple. The soldier righted the lopsided frames on Bradley’s nose.

      Amber laughed, recalling her earnest prayer the day she’d called Dream Corps. “I asked for one, and you sent…fifty.” She roamed a deeply thankful look over each soldier who’d answered this very special call.

      But it was the one brandishing a heart-seizing grin, the most piercing blue eyes, and parachute material falling around him in billowing waves, whom she couldn’t extract her gaze from.

      Chapter Two

      As Joel knelt on clean-shaven lawn, Bradley’s eyes widened through bottle-thick glasses perched haphazardly atop his nose. His eyes traveled up Joel’s body.

      His mouth gaped like the nine-pound bass Joel hooked yesterday. “Whoa! Dude! Who’re you?”

      Joel offered his hand. “Senior Airman Joel Montgomery, little sir. You must be Bradley.”

      Awe and trepidation flowed over the child’s gaunt face. “H-how do you know my name?” He shook Joel’s hand, pumping as if it were the handle of a water well.

      Joel grinned, tapping the patriotic sticker on the boy’s bony chest. “Says so right here.”

      Bradley’s