Home Front

And she was in the helicopter suddenly, turning back around to look at Smitty. All she could see was the gaping, smoking hole in his chest and the flatness of death in his eyes …

“Jo? Jo?”

She snapped back to the moment and found that she was shaking. Swallowing hard, she clasped her hands together to still them. A banner hung across the front door—WELCOME HOME TO OUR HERO!

Hero. Heroes brought their people home.

She knew then she was in trouble.

“Jo?”

“I’m fine,” she said woodenly. “The banner is great. ”

“They worked really hard on it. ”

Michael pulled into the garage and parked; the overhead light came on. He went to the trunk of the car and wrestled her wheelchair to the ground and brought it to her side, then opened the door.

He looked at her and frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how, and she wouldn’t have said it to him anyway. She gripped the car frame and pivoted on her butt, so that her legs were facing out. Michael moved in awkwardly, looked at her, and then slid his hand beneath her, anchoring her, helping her into the wheelchair. For that moment when he was in control of her body, she felt unsteady, but she made it.

He wheeled her into the house.

“She’s home!” Lulu shrieked, running down the stairs. Mila and Betsy came down behind her.

“You’re here, you’re here!” Lulu said, dancing. “Did you see the stuff we made for you? Betsy? Let’s show her the stuff we made for her. Are you hungry, Mommy?”

Jolene gripped the rubberized handles of the wheelchair, tried to slow her racing heart. What was wrong with her? She wanted to be here, wanted it with every molecule in her body, and yet …

“She looks weird,” Betsy said, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong with her?”

Lulu walked up to her, cocking her head. “You care about all the stuff we did, don’t you, Mommy?”

Jolene forced a smile. “Of course, Lulu. I can’t wait to see everything. It’s just…” She looked around, saw the evidence of her former life, everything that had once mattered to her, and she couldn’t make herself care about it. She felt numb and distant, a woman wrapped in gauze and peering out through the pale, sheer fabric, a ghost moving among the living.

Mila came over to her, bent down so they were eye to eye. She reached out, squeezed Jolene’s hand, and said simply, “You’re home. ”

Jolene’s eyes stung. “I’m glad to be here,” she said in a tight voice.

“Remember, your mom gets tired quickly,” Michael said, coming up beside her.

“In ten minutes?” Betsy said.

Jolene could feel the homecoming fraying around her. She’d disappointed them instantly, despite her best intentions. Focus, Jo. Be the mom they expect. How would she have acted before? “Why don’t you wheel me around, Betsy and Lulu? Show me what you’ve done. ”

“How come you aren’t walking on your fake leg?” Betsy asked.

“Conny thinks I should wait a while. Our floors might be uneven. I’ll need to start slowly. ”

“Oh. ” Betsy sounded disappointed at that. No doubt because she wanted a mother who looked normal, at least. Betsy positioned herself behind the wheelchair; Lulu tucked herself against its side. For the next hour, they rolled her through the house, showing her the changes they’d made for her—the food in the fridge, the cake on the counter, the banner on the wall, and a new bedroom in what had once been Michael’s office. All through dinner, Lulu never stopped talking.

By eight o’clock, Jolene could barely keep her eyes open. She had a pounding headache, and her stump hurt so badly she had trouble concentrating. Twice Betsy had accidently banged her into the door frame.

“Quit sleeping, Mommy,” Lulu demanded. “I’m showing you your new nightgown. See?”

“Yeah, like that’s important,” Betsy said. “She doesn’t care about any of it. ”

Jolene looked up. “I’m sorry. I do care. I’m a little tired. ”