Home Front

He would give anything to take back that one night when he’d ruined everything. If he’d sent her off to war with love, would she have come back to him whole? Would she have been stronger then? Would she have turned her helicopter a split second faster?

He knew the answer to that question was no. Jolene was an outstanding pilot, and if she had one great skill from her screwed-up childhood, it was the ability to compartmentalize pain and keep going.

Now he was almost home. When the ferry docked on Bainbridge Island, he drove off the boat and over the Agate Pass Bridge, past the fireworks stands—empty now until Christmas, when they would become tree lots—and through the postcard-perfect town of Poulsbo.

On the bookstore marquee, he saw the first sign: JOLENE ZARKADES AND TAMI FLYNN, YOU ARE IN OUR PRAYERS. COME HOME SAFELY.

There were similar signs everywhere, and big yellow ribbons decorated telephone poles and porch rails and fence posts.

On the way out of town, the yellow ribbons continued—on mailboxes and front doors and autumn-leaved apple trees.

As he approached the house, he could see that the fence line was decorated with more yellow ribbons. The flag on their porch hung slack on this windless night. Bouquets lay on the ground beneath one of the posts, like a grave site, their petals dying and turning brown.

He pulled into the garage and sat there, alone, in the dark. Sighing, he finally went into the house.

His mother was seated on the hearth, in front of a bright fire. At his entrance, she peered up at him from above the jewel-encrusted reading glasses she bought in a six-pack from Costco. Putting down her book, she stood, opening her arms.

He walked into her embrace, not realizing how much he needed a hug until her arms were around him.

“Tell me everything,” she said, leading him to the sofa.

He started with: “I should have waited for the doctor, but you know how impatient I am,” and he told her everything, ending with, “She asked me to come back here and get the house—and the girls—ready for her homecoming. ”

“You shouldn’t have left her,” his mother said.

“You told me to listen to her, that she’d tell me what she needed. ”

“Michael,” his mother said, shaking her head.

“I know. ” He raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “She threw me out. ”

His mother made the tsking sound he knew so well. “Men are stupid. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Please leave doesn’t mean she wanted you to actually do it. ”

“I’m not a mind reader. ”

“Clearly. ”

“I don’t want to have this conversation. I feel shitty enough. I don’t need you making it worse. ”

She looked at him. “Your wife is in Germany, wounded and afraid, and you left her there alone, grieving for her lost crewman and worried about her best friend. Do you really think it can get worse, Michael?”

“I don’t know what to do, Ma. I’ve never been good at this shit. ”

“Here’s what you do, Michael. You go upstairs and tell your children about their mother. Then you hold them when they cry and you get your family—and this house—ready for your wife’s return. You don’t make the same mistake again. Next time, you look at Jolene—all of her, Michael, even what’s missing—and you tell her you love her. You do love her, don’t you?”

“I do. But she won’t believe me. Not now. ”

“Who would? You have been foolish. You will have to swallow your pride and convince her … and yourself, perhaps. It will not be easy, nor should it. ” She patted his thigh. “And now, you will go up and tell your daughters that their mother is coming home from war. ”

“Are they in bed?”

“They’re waiting for you. ”

He sighed at that, feeling instantly tired, weighed down by this new burden that seemed to be his alone to carry. He leaned sideways, kissed his mom’s cheek, and headed for the stairs.

Outside Betsy’s room, he paused, gathering up his courage. He knocked on the door and went into the room. The girls were on the floor, playing some board game.

Michael knelt between them. Lulu immediately climbed onto his bent knees and looped her arms around his neck, leaning back like a pair’s ice-skater in a twirl. “Hi, Daddy!”