Home Front

When he could breathe again, he dried his face and forced his spine to straighten. Moving slowly, he went through the house, up the stairs. Every riser he took was a triumph, like bicycling up the Rockies. By the time he reached Betsy’s door, he was breathing hard, sweating.

He paused at the door, wishing more than anything that he didn’t have to tell them this … Then he went inside, remembering a second too late that he was supposed to knock, that adolescent girls demanded privacy.

They were on the bed together, watching the videotape of Jolene reading a bedtime story.

Michael wanted to stop right there, on the threshold to his daughter’s room, and turn around. They wouldn’t be the same after he gave them this news. They’d know, from now on, that bad things could happen, and they could happen fast, while you weren’t even paying attention. Helicopters could be shot down. Mothers could be hurt … and worse.

He actually stumbled.

“You wanna watch Mommy read to me, Daddy?” Lulu asked.

Michael tried to move, but he just stood there, swaying slightly, holding the door frame for support. Then he lurched forward and snapped the TV off.

Betsy frowned. “What’s the matter?”

In the silence that followed the question, Betsy’s face drained of color. “Is it Mom?”

“Mommy’s home?” Lulu said. “Yippeee! Where is she?”

Hope, Michael thought. He had to put his own fears aside and give them hope.

But what if it turned out to be false hope? He had no idea how injured Jolene was, or even if she would survive.

Shot down.

He swallowed hard, wiped his eyes before tears formed.

“Tell me,” Betsy said grimly. It broke his heart to see how afraid she was and how hard she was trying to be grown-up. He picked his way past the clothes heaped on the floor and climbed up onto the bed. Lulu leaped onto his chest without warning.

“Where is she, Daddy?” Lulu asked, bouncing.

Michael sat up, stretched his legs out. “Come here, Betsy,” he said quietly.

She moved cautiously across the bed, eyeing him the whole time, her mouth trembling, although she was trying to stop it, he could see.

“Mommy’s been in an accident,” he said when he had both of his daughters in his arms. “She’s on her way to a really good hospital right now. And…” She’ll be fixed up. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t make himself say the words.

Lulu pulled free, sat on his thighs, and looked at him. “Mommy got hurted?”

“Is she going to be okay?” Betsy asked softly.

Never in his life had Michael felt so painfully inadequate. “We have to believe she will be. We have to pray for her. ”

Betsy looked at him, her composure crumbling. The tears started falling; her whole body shook.

Lulu burst into tears.

Michael took them both in his arms, clinging to them, holding back his own tears.

They cried for what felt like hours. Finally, Lulu pulled back. Her black curly hair was damp and stuck to her pink cheeks. “If Mommy’s hurted, will they give her ice cream? Remember how Mommy gave me ice cream when I fell down the stairs, Betsy?”

“Strawberry,” Betsy said and Lulu nodded.

“With sprinkles. ”

Betsy wiped her eyes, sniffed hard. “Remember when she twisted her ankle at the beach last summer, Lulu? It got all swollen and purple and gross, and she said it didn’t hurt at all. She only stopped running for, like, a day. ”

“And when that dog bited her at the grocery story, she was bleeding but it hardly hurted, remember? Cuz she’s a soldier, that’s what she said. She’s army strong. Right, Daddy?”