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“Jolene,” the captain said at last, a pained look on his face. “I’ve got some news for you. ”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got your physical profile from Captain Sands in Landstuhl. It assesses your FFD. ”

FFD. Fitness for duty.

“Oh,” she said softly. With all that had happened in the past weeks, she’d forgotten about her career. About flying.

How could she have forgotten? “And?”

“You’re a pilot,” he said, his eyes filled with compassion. Maybe some soldiers could fulfill their job assignments with one leg. Not a pilot.

He was going to say she could never fly again. She closed her eyes for just a moment, feeling as great a pain as her missing leg. “I don’t meet the retention criteria,” she said. “Of course I don’t. I only have one leg. ”

“You could appeal. Go on probation, see if you could meet the criteria for duty after rehab. ”

She looked at him. “They won’t let me fly again, though, will they?”

The answer was in his eyes. “No. No flight status. But you could stay in the Guard maybe. Or if you retire, you’ll have full benefits. ”

“Benefits,” she said softly, trying to imagine her life without the military, without her friends, without flying … but she was a pilot. A pilot. How could she be in the Guard and not fly?

What was left to her now?

“I’m sorry, Jo. ”

She nodded, looked away before he could see the sadness in her eyes. “Thank you, sir,” she said in a thick voice.

After he left, she grabbed the bottle of wine and went into her bedroom.

* * *

The ferry was docking on Bainbridge Island when Michael’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Zarkades? This is Principal Warner, from the middle school. I’m afraid there’s been an incident with Betsy. ”

The ferry banged into the dock; stilled. He started up his car. “What? An incident, did you say? What does that mean?”

“Betsy was in a fight. ”

“You mean a fistfight?”

“Yes. ”

“I’ll be right there,” he said, hanging up. He followed the line of cars off the boat and across the ramp and up onto the road. Out on the highway, he hit the gas.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of the middle school and parked. Inside, the bright white walls were decorated with dozens of Science Fair and History Day banners. In the principal’s office, he found Betsy in the waiting room, her arms crossed tightly, her mouth pressed in a flat line. At his appearance, she looked up, her eyes widening.

“Dad, I—”

He gave her the Hand and kept walking. At the front desk, he introduced himself and was led into the principal’s office.

Principal Warner, a petite, pretty woman with kind eyes, noticed his black eye and frowned.

“I fell off my bike,” he said tightly.

She smiled, but only a little. “I’m sorry we had to call you. We’re all aware of the struggles your family is currently facing. Please, sit. ”