Home Front(124)

“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—”

“You weren’t here. And I’m practically thirteen.”

It was a sharp reminder of all the time Jolene had lost with her daughter, and of the problems that lay between them now. In Jolene’s absence, life had gone on; Michael had stepped up to the plate and guided their family, and he’d made decisions along the way. Jolene had never wanted to leave her children for any reason, and yet she had; she’d abandoned them in a way, and Betsy couldn’t forgive her.

“No,” Jolene said slowly. “I wasn’t. I’m sorry about that, Betsy.”

“I know you’re sorry.”

“It’s not enough. What is?”

Betsy looked away. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Come here, baby,” Jolene said gently.

Betsy moved forward woodenly.

“Closer,” Jolene said.

Betsy shook her head.

“You’re mad at me for leaving … and for getting hurt.”

Betsy shrugged, said, “Whatever.”

Jolene didn’t look away, even though the pain in her daughter’s eyes was a terrible thing to see. “I know I’m not the mom you remember, the mom you want. I know you’re mad at me. And I deserve it, Betsy. Not for going to war. I had to do that. But for who I’ve been since I got home.” She got up, trying not to limp, and reached out, taking hold of Betsy’s warm, soft hand. “I’m sorry I scared you. Or embarrassed you.”

Betsy’s eyes filled with tears. “I read Tami’s last letter to Seth. Did you write me one?”

Jolene wanted to lie, to say no, of course not, I knew I’d never leave you alone, but she was done with wrapping her life in pretty paper and pretending. “I did. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, thinking about leaving you and Lulu and your dad.”

“What did it say?”

“There were a lot of words and stories and advice, I guess. I tried to tell you everything you would need to know without me. I told you about my life, my parents, the kind of childhood I’d had, and how love—and motherhood—had changed me. I told you I was afraid to leave you. Things I should have told you before I left.” She looked at Betsy. “It said I love you in a thousand different ways.”

“Do you still?”

Jolene felt tears come to her eyes. She couldn’t help wondering how long it would wound her, the memory of this question. “I will love you forever, Elizabeth Andrea Zarkades. I might screw up, I might embarrass you, I might yell at you, but I will never, ever stop loving you. You’re my firstborn. The first time I held you…” Her voice broke on that; the tears started to fall. “I fell in love so hard it cracked my bones.”

The hug came so fast, Jolene stumbled sideways, almost lost her balance, but she clung to her daughter until they steadied. She held her daughter tightly, breathing in the familiar, girly scent of her corkscrewed blond hair, feeling Betsy’s sobs.

Jolene knew there would be more fights, probably lots of them, and screaming and hurt feelings and wrong things said, but there would be this, too.

Finally, Betsy drew back and looked up. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face glistened with tears. “I love you, Mom. To the moon and back. I should have said it when you left.”