Jolene looked up sharply. “What did you say, Carl? What did Seth say about Tami?”
“He was mad at me for using the picture from Iraq. He yelled, ‘That’s not my mom. It’s not even her real smile.’ I should have listened to him, and then Betsy said, ‘My mom hasn’t smiled since she got back.’”
“I know where they might be,” Jolene said.
“Where?” Carl asked.
“They want the last pictures of us,” she said, her throat tight. “The last time they saw their moms.”
“The Crab Pot,” Michael and Carl said together.
“You go,” Carl said to Michael. “I’ll stay here in case you’re wrong.”
Jolene and Michael were already moving, going into the house, grabbing the car keys. In no time, they were in the car, backing down the driveway and turning onto the bay road. Neither spoke as they drove along the water. At some point, Jolene reached out and put her hand on his thigh, needing to touch him. “If anything happens to them…”
“Don’t say it, Jo,” he pleaded.
They pulled up into the Crab Pot parking lot, which was empty. Two solitary streetlamps threw spots of light down on the asphalt.
Michael ran and Jolene limped as fast as she could to the front door, which was ajar. The window beside it was broken. Shards of glass lay on the weathered silver boards at their feet.
A pinprick of light shone in the shadowy interior.
Michael opened the door slowly; it creaked in protest.
Seth and Betsy were huddled together at the wall, holding Polaroid pictures in the beam of a flashlight.
Jolene heard Seth say quietly, “See her smile, Betsy? That’s her.”
Jolene’s relief was profound, but short-lived. She should have been truthful with her children from the beginning. She should have warned them that war could hurt her, change her, change them. Protecting them from the inevitable had only increased their pain and confusion and caused all this collateral damage.
“Hey, Betsy,” she said quietly.
Betsy saw her and grimaced. “We’ll pay for the window. Don’t worry.”
“We aren’t worried about the window,” Michael said.
“I had to get out of there,” Seth said, tears filling his eyes. “They were all telling these stories about her in the Guard. And I missed her so much I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to see her the way I remembered her. Betsy was the only one who understood.”
“A good friend is like that,” Jolene said quietly.
Betsy swallowed hard, staring at her. She held out the Polaroid picture of their family; it shook slightly in her grasp. “She never came back.”
“Come here, Betsy,” Jolene said.
Betsy looked terrified by the request. She clung to Seth’s hand as if she thought she might be yanked into a whirlwind if she let go. After all that had happened in this year, that was smart thinking on her part. They’d all become Dorothys, hurtling through a tornado. Who knew where they would land?
“I’ll tell you what,” Jolene said at last. “We’ll take Seth home, and then you and I will talk.”
“Are you going to lie to me and tell me everything is fine?” Betsy asked.
“No,” Jolene said quietly. “I’m not going to lie to you anymore.”
*
It took them almost an hour to get everything settled down and taken care of back at the house. All the while, Jolene thought about the advice young Keith Keller had given her: Come home to the people who love you. It was time, finally, for Jolene to do that, and, to be honest, she was more than a little afraid.
When Carl and Seth and the police finally left, Jolene looked at Betsy, who was standing on the end of the porch, wrapped in a big blanket.
“Can we talk now?” Jolene asked quietly.
Betsy nodded, although she didn’t look happy about it.
Jolene took her daughter by the hand and led her into the family room. At the sofa, Betsy tugged her hand free and hung back while Jolene sat down. Michael kissed them both and went upstairs.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, then creaking on the second floor.
They were alone.
“What do you want to say?” Betsy said, standing back. Her cheeks were still red with cold and her eyes were wary. For the first time, Jolene noticed the small pink pearl earrings.
She frowned. “Are your ears pierced?”
“I wondered when you were going to notice. I guess you have to look at me to see them.”
“I know, but—”