“—We’ll give her ice cream.”

Even Betsy couldn’t keep up.

Back in Poulsbo, they picked up his mother from the Green Thumb. She brought dozens of flowering plants with her—roses and orchids and bright yellow mums. She wanted to fill Jolene’s room with flowers.

“We got everything, Yia Yia!” Lulu squealed as Mila slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “Mommy is going to be SO happy.”

His mother smiled. “She’s going to be so happy just to see her girls again.”

Lulu started talking again—something about painting this time—and they were off. Michael drove through town, quiet again in the off-season, and turned onto the bay road. It was late afternoon, and sunlight gilded the Sound.

Once at home, they dove into preparations. Betsy unfurled the butcher paper on the kitchen floor and knelt in front of it. Carefully organizing her acrylic paints, she began work on the WELCOME HOME, MOMMY sign that had required so much discussion. Lulu had demanded that there be suns all over the paper, and pink hearts; Betsy wanted rainbows and American flags. By the time they were done, there was barely a square inch of paper left to be seen.

“What do you think, Dad?” Betsy said at last, frowning, sitting on her knees and studying the banner. “Will she like it?”

It was a burst of images and color and love. Best of all was the painting in the corner—a man and woman holding hands, with two frizzy-haired stick-daughters beside them. The four figures were inside of a huge pink heart.

Is that who’ll we’ll be again, Jo? he thought, trying to hold on to his smile. “It’s perfect.”

“Now we need to make the cake,” Betsy said. “Lemon is her favorite.”

“I get to help!” Lulu said.

Betsy gave Michael an irritated look. “All she does is lick the spoon, Dad. And she sticks her fingers in the frosting.”

“You two can work together,” he said. “This is a big day. The biggest day. Your mom is coming home from war, and we need to let her know that she’s the most important person in the world to us.”

Betsy got to her feet and walked over to Michael. “Is she excited to come back to us, Dad?”

It surprised Michael to hear his own worry voiced aloud by his daughter. “Why would you ask that, honey?”

“I wasn’t very nice to her sometimes.”

I know the feeling. “She understands that. She knows how hard it was for you.”

“She hasn’t been writing us many letters lately.”

“She’s been so busy. The war really heated up in September.”

“Is that why?”

“What do you mean?”

Betsy looked up at him, her gaze sharp and assessing. “Maybe it’s because of that fight you had. When you said you didn’t love her anymore.”

He flinched. So, Betsy remembered that; maybe she would remember it her whole life, no matter what happened from here on. Had she been worried about it all this time? And what should he say? “Grown-ups fight; I told you that.”

“You never wrote to her. And she didn’t write to you. I’m not stupid, Dad.”

“Of course you’re not. But—”

“What if she’s changed?”

Michael had worried about that, too. He smiled down at his daughter, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. “Your mom is excited to come home, Betsy. Don’t you worry about anything. We just have to show her how much we missed her.”

“I did miss her, too. I can’t wait to give her a huge hug. And to hear her tell me she loves me to the moon and back.”

He pulled her into a hug. “We’re going to be happy again, Betsy,” he said, his voice as strong as he could make it. “You’ll see. Starting tomorrow.”

* * *

Nine days ago Jolene had walked across the base with her best friend, complaining about the weather, saying, It’s hard as hell to walk in this mud. She’d grabbed the rim of the Black Hawk cockpit door and climbed easily aboard, putting her feet to the pedals. She had known irrevocably and completely who she was.

Now she was in the air again, but everything about her world had changed. She was in a transport plane, flying home with six other wounded soldiers, as well as some medical staff and a few civilians. The patients were in the front of the plane, in beds bolted to the aircraft’s interior walls. A pale, flimsy curtain separated them from the other passengers. In the old days, Jolene would have found a way to smile through the pain and loss; she would have worked to make sure than everyone else was comfortable. Those days were gone. She lay in the bed, gritting her teeth against a phantom pain that made her missing foot throb.

When the plane landed in Seattle, the nurse seated beside her said, “You’re almost home, Chief. That must feel good.”

She turned her head away and said nothing. The nurse was right; it should have felt good, coming home. For months she had dreamed of this moment, of seeing her daughters again. Of course, she’d imagined herself walking through her own front door, dropping to her knees, and opening her arms for an endless hug.

What was wrong with her?

She should be glad she was coming home at all. What would Smitty give to trade places with her? Or Tami? The thought made her feel guilty and small. But what could she do about her feelings? They were inside of her, uncontrollable now, festering.

She simply couldn’t look the other way this time or pretend everything was fine. She had a numbness inside of her that was new and frightening. Maybe she was afraid to feel too much, afraid that if she let her emotions go, she would start screaming and never be able to stop.

The plane touched down, taxied. The nurse said, “Welcome to Boeing Field, Chief. We’ll be transporting you to an ambulance, which will take you to the rehab center.”

Jolene wanted to say thank you but her heart was beating so fast she felt dizzy. She wasn’t ready for this. She was actually afraid to see her children. What in the hell was wrong with her?

A major appeared beside her, in full uniform, and pinned a medal to her tee shirt. He talked down at her, said words she barely heard. Medals shouldn’t be given to a woman who’d gotten her aircraft shot down and a young man killed.

Still, she didn’t bother saying anything, not even, “Thank you, sir.”

They rolled her on the gurney from the belly of the plane, down a bumpy ramp and onto Boeing Field, where a row of ambulances waited to take the patients to different hospitals and rehab facilities. Rain fell on her face, the first real reminder that she was back in the Northwest. She stared up at the swollen gray sky, and then she was in an ambulance, lying next to an earnest young paramedic, who thanked her for her service to the country.

On the way north, she must have fallen asleep, because when she awakened again, they were stopped. This time, the paramedics lifted her as if she were a child and carried her over to a waiting wheelchair. They positioned her carefully in the chair, draped her lap and legs in a blanket.

Her family stood clustered in front of the rehab center’s entrance. Michael and Mila were holding flowers. Even from here, she could see how Lulu was bouncing on her feet, grinning. The girls were holding up a WE MISSED YOU sign painted in drippy blue acrylic, with glitter sprayed in rainbow colors above.

She loved her daughters with every ounce of her soul; she knew that, knew it, but somehow she couldn’t feel it, and that inability scared her more than anything ever had.

“MOMMY!” Lulu screamed, running toward her, leading the charge. Betsy was right behind her.

Betsy rammed into Jolene’s residual leg.

Pain sliced through the limb. Jolene said, “Damn it, Betsy, be careful!” before she could help herself.

Betsy stepped back, her eyes glittering with tears.

Jolene gritted her teeth, breathed shallowly until the pain subsided. “Sorry, Betsy,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to smile.

“Sorry,” Betsy mumbled, looking hurt and angry.

Lulu was on the verge of tears. “Mommy?”

Jolene felt a wave of exhaustion. She didn’t know how to rewind the past minutes and start over, how to be her old smiling self, and her leg throbbed in pain now.

Michael moved in beside her, taking control of the wheelchair. “Ma, take the girls into Jolene’s room. We’ll check in and be there in a second.”

Mila herded the confused-looking girls into the building.

“Thanks,” Jolene said.

“They’ve been really excited to see you.”

She nodded.

Michael wheeled her into a brightly lit lobby and up to a receptionist desk. There, he introduced Jolene, who smiled woodenly, and he signed a few papers. Then he wheeled her down a hallway and into a small room with a giant WELCOME HOME, MOMMY banner strung across one wall. There were enough bouquets to stock a flower shop, and family photographs covered every surface. Again, her daughters and Mila stood by the window, but this time their smiles were hesitant, uncertain.

Jolene wanted to reassure them, but when she saw the triangular-shaped trapeze thingy that hung from her bed, she thought, That’s my reality now. I need help to sit up, and the numbness was back and spreading …

Come on, Jo, smile, pretend to be who you used to be … a smile is just a frown turned upside down. You can do it.

Michael rolled her close to the bed and then stopped so suddenly she lurched forward. He stared down at her stump, covered by the blanket. “Can you get into bed?”

Before she could answer, there was a knock at the open door. Jolene turned to look as a big black man with gray dreadlocks walked into the room. Dressed in pink scrubs, he smiled like a lottery winner as he sidestepped past Michael. With exquisite gentleness, the man lifted Jolene out of the chair and placed her in bed. He removed her slipper, set it aside, and then covered her with the bright purple blanket on her bed. When he was done, he leaned down and said softly, “Just breathe, Jolene. You’ll get through it. I hear you’re tough as nails.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Who are you?”

He smiled. “I’m your physical therapist, Conny. I’ll see you tonight at six for your orientation.”

“You don’t look like a Conny.”

“Honey, I been hearing that all my life.” Still smiling, he introduced himself to the family, shook Michael’s hand, and left the room.

And then she was alone with her family.

Jolene looked at her loved ones. She wanted—desperately—to feel joy, but she didn’t, and the absence both terrified and depressed her. She felt nothing.

Lulu broke free of the pack and walked over to the bed. She looked at the flat place on the blanket where Jolene’s leg should be. Frowning, Lulu leaned over her, patted the empty spot. “Yep, it’s gone. Where is it?”

“Not there, Lulu. My leg got really hurt and they fixed me right up. I’m perfect now.” Jolene’s voice caught on the lie.

Lulu got up on her tiptoes and peered at Jolene’s casted arm, with its swollen, pale, useless fingers sticking out. “But you still got two hands,” she said, turning to Betsy. “She gots two hands, Bets. So we can still play patty-cake.”