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She knew then she was in trouble.
“Jo?”
“I’m fine,” she said woodenly. “The banner is great. ”
“They worked really hard on it. ”
Michael pulled into the garage and parked; the overhead light came on. He went to the trunk of the car and wrestled her wheelchair to the ground and brought it to her side, then opened the door.
He looked at her and frowned. “Are you okay?”
No, she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how, and she wouldn’t have said it to him anyway. She gripped the car frame and pivoted on her butt, so that her legs were facing out. Michael moved in awkwardly, looked at her, and then slid his hand beneath her, anchoring her, helping her into the wheelchair. For that moment when he was in control of her body, she felt unsteady, but she made it.
He wheeled her into the house.
“She’s home!” Lulu shrieked, running down the stairs. Mila and Betsy came down behind her.
“You’re here, you’re here!” Lulu said, dancing. “Did you see the stuff we made for you? Betsy? Let’s show her the stuff we made for her. Are you hungry, Mommy?”
Jolene gripped the rubberized handles of the wheelchair, tried to slow her racing heart. What was wrong with her? She wanted to be here, wanted it with every molecule in her body, and yet …
“She looks weird,” Betsy said, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong with her?”
Lulu walked up to her, cocking her head. “You care about all the stuff we did, don’t you, Mommy?”
Jolene forced a smile. “Of course, Lulu. I can’t wait to see everything. It’s just…” She looked around, saw the evidence of her former life, everything that had once mattered to her, and she couldn’t make herself care about it. She felt numb and distant, a woman wrapped in gauze and peering out through the pale, sheer fabric, a ghost moving among the living.
Mila came over to her, bent down so they were eye to eye. She reached out, squeezed Jolene’s hand, and said simply, “You’re home. ”
Jolene’s eyes stung. “I’m glad to be here,” she said in a tight voice.
“Remember, your mom gets tired quickly,” Michael said, coming up beside her.
“In ten minutes?” Betsy said.
Jolene could feel the homecoming fraying around her. She’d disappointed them instantly, despite her best intentions. Focus, Jo. Be the mom they expect. How would she have acted before? “Why don’t you wheel me around, Betsy and Lulu? Show me what you’ve done. ”
“How come you aren’t walking on your fake leg?” Betsy asked.
“Conny thinks I should wait a while. Our floors might be uneven. I’ll need to start slowly. ”
“Oh. ” Betsy sounded disappointed at that. No doubt because she wanted a mother who looked normal, at least. Betsy positioned herself behind the wheelchair; Lulu tucked herself against its side. For the next hour, they rolled her through the house, showing her the changes they’d made for her—the food in the fridge, the cake on the counter, the banner on the wall, and a new bedroom in what had once been Michael’s office. All through dinner, Lulu never stopped talking.
By eight o’clock, Jolene could barely keep her eyes open. She had a pounding headache, and her stump hurt so badly she had trouble concentrating. Twice Betsy had accidently banged her into the door frame.
“Quit sleeping, Mommy,” Lulu demanded. “I’m showing you your new nightgown. See?”
“Yeah, like that’s important,” Betsy said. “She doesn’t care about any of it. ”
Jolene looked up. “I’m sorry. I do care. I’m a little tired. ”
Mila stood up from the sofa. “Come on, girls, upstairs. Time to get ready for bed. ”
“Come on, Mommy,” Lulu said. “I’ll show you how I brush my teeth. ”
“Girls,” Michael said. “Your mom has had a long day. Just kiss her good night. ”
Lulu looked like she was about to cry. “Isn’t she coming up to read us a story?”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “Wheelchair, Lucy. ”
“Oh. ” Lulu pouted. “I am not liking any of this. ”
Jolene opened her arms. “Come here, Lucy Lou. ”
Her youngest daughter scrambled up into her lap; it hurt. Jolene gritted her teeth and hoped her grimace looked like a smile. “I’ll be able to go upstairs someday. Just not yet, okay?”
“O-kay,” Lulu said, drawing the word out to show her displeasure. Betsy mumbled good night and left the room. Mila took Lulu’s hand and led her up the stairs.
Jolene let out her breath. She was in the open doorway to her new bedroom. All that was left of the previous décor was Michael’s old college desk, tucked in beneath the window, with his computer on it. The door to the en suite bathroom had been widened; the molding hadn’t yet been replaced, so it was bracketed by raw wood.
An antique queen-sized bed filled the center of the room. Bright pink and yellow Hawaiian bedding attested to the girls’ shopping trip. There were several down pillows scattered about and a thick white blanket lay folded at the foot.
She could see how hard they’d worked to welcome her home, and she wanted to be moved by it, but, honestly, all she felt was tired. It had only been a few hours and already she’d disappointed them.
She heard Michael come up beside her. “I shouldn’t have let the girls badger you so much,” he said. “They were so excited to have you home. ”
Jolene could barely say, “It’s fine. ” All she wanted now was to be left alone. She had failed tonight. Failed.
“I added a bunch of handicapped stuff to the bathroom in there—railings and handles. ”
“Great. Thanks. ”
He glanced down at her half leg, sticking out there, ending in a flap of fallen material and then looked quickly away. “If you need help…”
“Don’t worry, Michael. Your duty ends at the bedroom door. I can handle myself from here,” she said tightly.
“That’s not fair, Jo. ”
“Fair?” That pissed her off. “None of this is fair, Michael. ” She gripped the wheelchair and rolled away from him. She was almost to the bathroom door when he said her name. She stopped, looked back at him.
“Do you want me to sleep with you? In case you need something?”
In case I need something. How romantic. “No, Michael. I’d rather be alone. ”
“Maybe I didn’t say that right. Maybe—”
“Good night, Michael,” she said firmly, rolling into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
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
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.
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