Home Front

“Sure. ”

When they were gone, Jolene flopped back into her mound of pillows, exhausted.

“You okay?” Michael asked, leaning over her.

She didn’t have the strength to deal with him right now. She felt so weak and vulnerable, and in that split second when their gazes had met, she’d imagined love. Nothing could scare her more. She’d given him her heart long ago, and for so many years, and then he’d crushed it. With her body so broken, she couldn’t let anything else be hurt. “Why are you even here, Michael? You know we’re over. ”

“We’re not. ”

She struggled to sit back up, hating how she looked doing something so simple, all off-balance and breathing hard. She threw back the covers. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes. ”

She drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t lie to me, Michael. ”

“I’m not lying. I learned a lot while you were gone, Jolene. About you … about me … about us. I was an idiot to tell you I didn’t love you. How could I not love you?”

She wanted it to be true, wanted it so badly she felt sick with longing. But she was broken now, and Michael had always had a keen sense of duty. It was one of the things they’d shared. He wouldn’t let himself walk away from his wounded wife, no matter how much he wanted to.

“We’re back, Mommy,” Lulu said, coming back into the room with Conny. “And Conny says we get to play catch!”

Jolene drew in a tired breath. She wanted to say, Really? With one hand? Won’t it be more like fetch? but she didn’t. Keeping silent felt like a minor triumph. She managed a small, hopeful smile. “Okay, Lulu,” she said. “I love playing catch. So let’s get started. ”

* * *

Michael stood by Jolene’s bedside.

She had fallen asleep almost immediately after her PT session. He was hardly surprised. She must be exhausted. Today he’d seen the woman who flew helicopters. The warrior.

He stared down at her scabby, bruised face. Always, from the beginning even, when she’d come into his office that first day, he’d seen Jolene as a powerhouse, a woman with steel in her spine.

He saw her vulnerability now. Maybe for the first time ever she needed him. It surprised him how much that meant to him, how much he wanted to be there for her.

He touched her face gently. “Have I lost you, Jo?” he whispered.

He heard Lulu’s helium-high voice in the hallway, and he turned, realizing too late that he had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away as Lulu said, “Look, Daddy, we have ice cream. ”

Smiling as best he could, he turned again to his wife, kissed her cheek, and lingered there just a second. Then he straightened and walked away, leading his girls toward the car. All the way home—on the long ferry wait and crossing—Lulu chattered. She wanted a wheelchair of her own.

As they turned onto the bay road, Lulu started singing and clapping her hands together; then she started pretending she was playing patty-cake with her mother. “Help me make one up, Betsy, like Mommy does. Patty-cake, patty-cake—”

“She only has one good hand now,” Betsy snapped. “How do you think she’s going to play patty-cake with you?”

Lulu gasped. “Is that true, Daddy? Tell her to shut up. They’ll take off the cast and Mommy will be fine, right?”

Michael pulled the car into the garage and parked next to Jolene’s SUV. “Leave each other alone. ”

Lulu wailed.

Betsy bolted from the car and ran out of the garage, slamming the door behind her.

“Great. ” Michael unhooked Lulu from her car seat and pulled her into his arms.

In the house, she immediately wiggled out of his grasp and ran upstairs, probably to torment her sister.

Michael went to the kitchen, poured himself a drink, and stood by the counter, drinking it, gathering strength for what was to come. When he finished the drink, he set down the glass and headed upstairs.

He knocked on Betsy’s door. “Betsy, it’s Dad. Can I come in?”