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.
Her accident.
Would she think or it every time she looked in the mirror? And why shouldn’t she? With a sigh, she turned away. She didn’t know the woman in that mirror anymore.
It took another decade to get out of the bathroom, and when she wheeled back into the room, she saw Michael standing at the door, looking worried.
Before she could even try to do it herself, he was beside her, helping her into the bed. The minute she lay down, she felt the starch drain out of her. She sank into the softness with a sigh. He helped her position pillows around her residual leg.
“Your sleeping and pain pills are right there, on the nightstand. And your water. And a sandwich, in case you get hungry.”
He brushed the hair out of her eyes.
She hated how her body reacted to his touch. It had always been that way for her, from the beginning. Even now, as tired as she was, she found herself being drawn to him.
Dangerous, Jo.
“We’re going to have to talk about us, you know,” he said at last.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Michael. You said it all before I left. Now let me sleep, I’m exhausted.”
He stared down at her so long she thought he was going to say something else. But in the end, he left her alone in the room, closing the door behind him.
Twenty-Three
As tired as she was, Jolene couldn’t fall asleep. She felt as if she’d drunk a carafe of espresso; her whole body was taut, her nerves jangling. It was so quiet here—too quiet. No mortars falling, exploding; no alarms blaring or helicopters taking off or men talking. It scared her, all this quiet, and that was wrong. She was home. She shouldn’t even be thinking about Iraq anymore.
She lay in the new bed, on the new sheets, in her new room, and all she felt was achingly, frighteningly out of place. Every noise in the house upset her fragile equilibrium. At every sound, she jackknifed up, her heart pounding, listening.
The last time she looked at the clock, it was three thirty. When she finally fell asleep, the nightmare was waiting for her.
Tami! We’ve got to establish a perimeter … Smitty … Jamie, help Smitty …
She woke up, heart pounding, sweating. A bleary-eyed glance at the clock showed it to be five thirty. She threw the covers back and started to get out of bed.
And remembered: she’d lost her leg. She stared down at it, still swollen and wrapped in gauze and bandages. Closing her eyes, she flopped back into the mound of pillows and sighed. Somewhere, on the other side of the world, her best friend lay in a bed, too …
Outside, not far away, a coyote howled. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked, then a toilet flushed. She wasn’t the only one awake.
As she lay in bed alone, she tried to draw strength from what she had left. She was home; she was a mother. For the first time in months, she could focus on her children and be the mother she’d once been to them, the mother they needed. Tami would kick her ass for giving up.
She could do it. She could. Today was the day she would reclaim her life and herself.
She imagined herself making them breakfast, getting them off to school, kissing them good-bye for the day.
That was her last conscious thought. The next thing she knew, she was waking up again, and beyond her window, the world was pale and gray, rainy.
The first day of her new life. She sat up in bed, looking longingly at the crutches leaning against the wall. She wished she was ready to use them, but Conny had been adamant that she wasn’t ready for them in the house yet. Too many hidden dangers. She maneuvered into her wheelchair and rolled into the bathroom. Again, it was a struggle. She balanced on one foot and brushed her teeth and washed her face, then hopped over to the toilet. By the time she was dressed and ready for the day, she was tired. Settling into her wheelchair, she rolled out into the family room and found the remote.