“Michael,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“I know.” He raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “She threw me out.”
His mother made the tsking sound he knew so well. “Men are stupid. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Please leave doesn’t mean she wanted you to actually do it.”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
“Clearly.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation. I feel shitty enough. I don’t need you making it worse.”
She looked at him. “Your wife is in Germany, wounded and afraid, and you left her there alone, grieving for her lost crewman and worried about her best friend. Do you really think it can get worse, Michael?”
“I don’t know what to do, Ma. I’ve never been good at this shit.”
“Here’s what you do, Michael. You go upstairs and tell your children about their mother. Then you hold them when they cry and you get your family—and this house—ready for your wife’s return. You don’t make the same mistake again. Next time, you look at Jolene—all of her, Michael, even what’s missing—and you tell her you love her. You do love her, don’t you?”
“I do. But she won’t believe me. Not now.”
“Who would? You have been foolish. You will have to swallow your pride and convince her … and yourself, perhaps. It will not be easy, nor should it.” She patted his thigh. “And now, you will go up and tell your daughters that their mother is coming home from war.”
“Are they in bed?”
“They’re waiting for you.”
He sighed at that, feeling instantly tired, weighed down by this new burden that seemed to be his alone to carry. He leaned sideways, kissed his mom’s cheek, and headed for the stairs.
Outside Betsy’s room, he paused, gathering up his courage. He knocked on the door and went into the room. The girls were on the floor, playing some board game.
Michael knelt between them. Lulu immediately climbed onto his bent knees and looped her arms around his neck, leaning back like a pair’s ice-skater in a twirl. “Hi, Daddy!”
“How is she?” Betsy asked warily.
Lulu bounced on his lap. “You wanna play Candyland, Daddy?”
“Dad?” Betsy said. “How is Mom?”
He drew in a deep breath. “She lost her leg.”
Lulu stilled. “Where is it?”
“They cut it off, stupid,” Betsy said, scrambling backward, getting to her feet.
“What?” Lulu shrieked.
“Betsy,” Michael snapped, “don’t scare your sister. Lulu, Mommy’s going to be fine, she just lost part of her leg. But she’ll still be able to walk and everything. She’ll need our help for a while, though. She’s coming home in three days.”
“Mom lost her leg and Tami is in a coma, but everyone is going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine, just like we were.” Betsy’s voice broke, and she ran to the door, yanking it open. “You and Mom are both liars,” she said, wiping her eyes. Then she walked out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.
“But where’s her leg, Daddy?” Lulu said, starting to cry.
*
“Jo?”
She heard Jamie’s voice and opened her eyes.
Jamie stood in the doorway, dressed in his ACUs.
“Hey.” She smiled at him, tried to look strong. She had no courage these days, it seemed, no inner strength. It was just so damned good to see him up and walking, even if it was with a limp. He’d visited her yesterday, too.
Closing the door behind him, he walked into the room. The look in his eyes was so compassionate she almost started to cry again. He knew what she was feeling.
“It’s not your fault, Jo,” he said.
“Smitty’s gone. Tami’s in a coma. I was flying the aircraft,” Jolene said.
“You carried her out of the helicopter, Jo. You.” He looked down at her amputated leg. “On that. You carried your best friend. I saw you, as I was scrambling, trying like hell to get Smitty out. I got him out, but it was too late.”
She saw the guilt Jamie carried.
“I saw him, Jamie. He was already gone.”
He stared down at her. “Don’t you give up,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“I don’t know how to be this woman.” She indicated her ruined body.
“You’re a soldier, Jo. That’s inside.”
“Is it?”
“I’ve been ordered back to Iraq,” he said at last.