Michael knocked at her bedroom door, walked into the room.
She stared up at him. “There’s something wrong with me,” she said quietly. Her heartbeat kicked up. “I’m afraid.” It was as honest as she knew how to be, as honest with him as she’d ever been. “What if I’m like Keith?”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
He walked toward her, came to her side. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her to a stand. His gaze was steady, and in the darkness of his eyes, she saw the shadowy reflection of their whole lives, the good and the bad. He leaned slowly, slowly forward, saying, “I’m going to kiss you, Jolene…”
She knew he was giving her a chance to stop him, and there was a part of her that wanted to push him away and run and protect what was left of her heart. But she couldn’t.
His kiss was everything she remembered, everything she’d ever wanted. Her body responded to him in the way it always had, wholly and completely.
When he drew back, she could see that he was as shaken by the kiss as she had been. His breathing was ragged.
“Tell me it’s not too late for us,” he said. She heard the desperate plea in his voice and knew she’d never heard it before.
“It’s not too late,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “But I’m not ready…”
He smiled at last, and it was his smile, the one that had swept her away all those years ago. How long had it been since she’d seen it? He walked over to the nightstand by the bed, opened the drawer, and took out a small plastic bag.
She heard the jangle of metal as he opened the baggie, and she knew what was inside of it. Why hadn’t she thought about it before? Her belongings. They’d given her jewelry to him in Germany—her dog tags, her watch, her wedding ring. He took something out of the bag before putting it back in the drawer, closing it with a click.
She drew in a shaky breath.
He moved toward her, reached for her left hand. Without looking away, he slipped the wedding ring back onto her finger. “You will be,” he said, and the certainty in his voice struck a chord deep within her.
She watched him walk away, close the door behind him. Twice, she almost called him back, almost said, I was wrong, I am ready, but she was too afraid.
She hobbled into the bathroom and got ready for bed. Climbing under the thick comforter, she positioned the pillows around her residual leg and closed her eyes. The simple golden band added a forgotten weight to her hand. For the first time in weeks, she went to sleep without a glass of wine or a sleeping pill. Keith was right. She would take his advice. She would come home to the people who loved her—her husband, her family. She had to be able to do it. She’d gone to Iraq, for God’s sake, she’d flown helicopters in combat. How could it be harder to come home than to go to war?
Her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep was, Tomorrow I’ll start over, Tami. I’ll be Mommy again. I’ll come home at last.
Twenty-Six
Jolene woke to watery yellow sunshine pouring through her window. It illuminated everything in the room—including the empty wineglass on her nightstand and the collection of orange pill bottles.
Today was the day she would give all that up. No more sleeping pills, no more wine to calm her jangling nerves. She closed her eyes and imagined it in detail—she would rise confidently and go into the kitchen and make breakfast for her girls. Then she would take them aside and talk to them openly, tell them that the war had hurt her mind for a while and sucked out some of her spirit but that she could handle it now. She was ready to be Mom again, and that she’d always, always loved them, even when the numbness was at its very worst. They wouldn’t understand, perhaps, wouldn’t believe her completely, but it would be a start. From there, she would prove it to them by improving every day, by getting strong and showing her love more freely. She wouldn’t be afraid anymore.
She got out of bed and grabbed her crutches, hop-swinging into the bathroom. Emerging only ten minutes later, dressed for rehab, with her prosthesis on, she limped out into the kitchen and started breakfast. Pancakes today—like the old days. She got some blueberries out of the freezer and started the batter. Every now and again she caught sight of her wedding ring and it made her smile. Hope felt as close as it ever had.
As she poured the batter in dollops on the hot griddle, she heard Michael come up behind her. He moved in close, leaned over her shoulder. “Pancakes, huh?”
“A peace offering. I could have learned quantum physics in the time they took to make.” She smiled at him, and for a second they were Michael-and-Jo again, and she thought: We can do it.