“Don’t get hurt over there, Jo,” he said, his gaze steady.
She heard a caring in the words she’d thought was gone, and it filled her with a sweet and tender hope. Maybe they could fix it, maybe one perfect moment could put them back on track. She needed him so much right now she couldn’t stand it; she needed to be able to take his love with her.
Slowly, she put a hand around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him, but even as her heartbeat sped up and passion flared inside her, she felt him holding back. It was like kissing a stranger.
She drew back, humiliated. “Take care of my babies,” she whispered.
But he was drinking again, staring out at the rolling waves.
“It’s too bad you think you have to say that,” he said.
She got up and returned to the house, alone.
Nine
Michael woke up alone. At some point, long before dawn, he’d heard Jolene awaken and climb out of bed. Without turning on the lights, she had dressed in her camo fatigues—ACUs—grabbed her duffle bag, and left the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. He had pretended to be asleep. Later, he’d heard a horn honk outside; Tami had come to pick Jolene up.
Afterward, Michael lay alone. He thought he’d never fall asleep again, but somehow he had, and he’d been wakened hours later by the alarm bleating beside his bed.
Now, it was The Day. He woke the girls up and then took a long, scaldingly hot shower.
He had no idea what to wear for a deployment ceremony, so he went for the ever-popular charcoal slacks and matching V-neck cashmere sweater, but when he looked in the mirror, he saw a stranger. His dark eyes had a haunted look, and the shadows beneath attested to the fact that he hadn’t slept well in weeks.
“Dad?” Betsy walked into the room, wearing white knee-length leggings, a long pink sweater cinched tight at the waist by a wide silver belt, and Ugg boots. Her long blond hair hung in frizzy ringlets to the middle of her back.
She looked like she was trying out for some Disney kid show where people burst into song at the drop of a hat.
“Is that what you think you’re wearing?” he asked.
“You can’t tell me what to wear. ”
“Why not? I’m your father. ”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “I came to tell you that Lulu isn’t coming with us. ”
“What do you mean? She’s four years old. ”
“I know her age, Dad. I just said she won’t come. And she’s wearing the headband. ”
Michael had no idea what difference a headband could make. “Fine. ” He sighed—he was exhausted already and it was barely past eleven. “Come on,” he said to Betsy and headed down the hallway.
Lulu’s room appeared to have been ransacked. There were toys and clothes everywhere; all of the bedding had been pulled off the bed and lay heaped on the floor.
She sat in the corner, wearing her ragged gray kitten Halloween costume, with her skinny legs drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were red and watery from crying and her cheeks were blotchy.
He looked at his watch. They were late. “Get up, Lulu. We don’t have time for this. We have to say good-bye to your mom. ”
When he reached down for her, she screamed, “You can’t see me!”
Michael frowned.
Betsy grabbed his wrist. “Lulu’s invisible when she has the headband on. ”
“Oh, for God’s—”
“Lulu,” Betsy said in a singsong voice. “Where are you? We need to go. ”
Lulu didn’t answer.