Home Front

Mila stood up from the sofa. “Come on, girls, upstairs. Time to get ready for bed. ”

“Come on, Mommy,” Lulu said. “I’ll show you how I brush my teeth. ”

“Girls,” Michael said. “Your mom has had a long day. Just kiss her good night. ”

Lulu looked like she was about to cry. “Isn’t she coming up to read us a story?”

Betsy rolled her eyes. “Wheelchair, Lucy. ”

“Oh. ” Lulu pouted. “I am not liking any of this. ”

Jolene opened her arms. “Come here, Lucy Lou. ”

Her youngest daughter scrambled up into her lap; it hurt. Jolene gritted her teeth and hoped her grimace looked like a smile. “I’ll be able to go upstairs someday. Just not yet, okay?”

“O-kay,” Lulu said, drawing the word out to show her displeasure. Betsy mumbled good night and left the room. Mila took Lulu’s hand and led her up the stairs.

Jolene let out her breath. She was in the open doorway to her new bedroom. All that was left of the previous décor was Michael’s old college desk, tucked in beneath the window, with his computer on it. The door to the en suite bathroom had been widened; the molding hadn’t yet been replaced, so it was bracketed by raw wood.

An antique queen-sized bed filled the center of the room. Bright pink and yellow Hawaiian bedding attested to the girls’ shopping trip. There were several down pillows scattered about and a thick white blanket lay folded at the foot.

She could see how hard they’d worked to welcome her home, and she wanted to be moved by it, but, honestly, all she felt was tired. It had only been a few hours and already she’d disappointed them.

She heard Michael come up beside her. “I shouldn’t have let the girls badger you so much,” he said. “They were so excited to have you home. ”

Jolene could barely say, “It’s fine. ” All she wanted now was to be left alone. She had failed tonight. Failed.

“I added a bunch of handicapped stuff to the bathroom in there—railings and handles. ”

“Great. Thanks. ”

He glanced down at her half leg, sticking out there, ending in a flap of fallen material and then looked quickly away. “If you need help…”

“Don’t worry, Michael. Your duty ends at the bedroom door. I can handle myself from here,” she said tightly.

“That’s not fair, Jo. ”

“Fair?” That pissed her off. “None of this is fair, Michael. ” She gripped the wheelchair and rolled away from him. She was almost to the bathroom door when he said her name. She stopped, looked back at him.

“Do you want me to sleep with you? In case you need something?”

In case I need something. How romantic. “No, Michael. I’d rather be alone. ”

“Maybe I didn’t say that right. Maybe—”

“Good night, Michael,” she said firmly, rolling into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed as she set the brake and stood up, gripping the tile counter for support.

It took forever to brush her teeth and wash her face. She was so tired, she kept losing her concentration and her balance. Once she almost fell over. When she looked at the toilet, she felt a wave of exhaustion. Gritting her teeth, she hopped over to it, grateful for the side rails Michael had installed. She gripped it in her one good hand and lowered herself to the seat, realizing too late that she still had her pants on. She sat there a minute, too tired to move, then slowly she stood. It was harder than she’d anticipated to unzip her pants and pull them down without falling, but she did it, finally.

Who would have thought it was so damned hard to go to the bathroom? Welcome home, Jo.

While she was seated, she pulled off her top and bra and slipped into the floor-length flannel nightgown the girls had bought for her. After that, she got carefully to her feet.

Foot. Unsteady, she grabbed the counter again and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Cautiously, she turned to look.

Her face was disturbingly thin, her cheekbones high and sharp. The bruises and scrapes had healed; the only sign of her accident was the small pink scar along her jaw.