Home Front(34)

“I’m trying, Mom,” Betsy said at last.

“I know.”

“On the news—”

“Don’t watch the news, Betsy. It won’t help.”

“What will?”

Jolene sighed. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s synchronize our watches’ alarms. That way when the alarms go off, we’ll think of each other at that second.”

“Okay.”

In silence, they set their alarms.

“I shouldn’t have said that about the dog tags…” Betsy said, her voice uneven.

“It’s okay, Betsy.”

“I’ll miss you,” Betsy said after a minute. “I don’t know why I’m being so mean to you…”

“I know, baby. I was twelve once. And you’ve got a lot to worry about right now.” Jolene kissed Betsy’s cheek.

They sat there, holding each other for a long time. In the quiet, Jolene felt as if she were coming undone. How could she leave tomorrow, walk away from her family, say good-bye to her children?

She wanted to tell Betsy everything she would need to know for her whole life—just in case, to warn her about sex and boys and drugs and makeup, about social politics and college admissions and bad choices. But it was too early—and too late.

Finally, she kissed her daughter’s cheek, said, “Are you ready to come back downstairs?” and got up.

“I don’t feel like watching TV. I think I’ll read,” Betsy said.

Jolene could hardly challenge that. She didn’t really want to go back downstairs, either. “Okay.”

She went downstairs, where she found Michael watching TV while Lulu sat beside him on the sofa, doggedly asking him questions about how long Mommy would be gone.

“Come here, Lucy Lou,” Jolene said, scooping her daughter into her arms. “It’s time for your bath.”

Jolene carried Lulu upstairs, gave her a long, play-filled bath, then got her ready for bed.

As she looked around for last night’s book, she saw Lulu scamper out of bed, put on her ratty gray cat-ear headband, and climb back into bed.

So Lulu wanted to play. Jolene turned to the bed and stopped suddenly. “Oh, no. Lulu, where did you go? Did the fairies steal you?”

Lulu made a sound and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Was that the wind?” Jolene went to the window, opened it. “Lulu, are you out there?”

Lulu took off her headband and burst into tears. “I want to stay inbisible ’til you come home.”

“Aw, Lulu,” she said, climbing into Lulu’s narrow bed, taking her baby into her arms.

“Who will find me if you’re gone?”

Jolene tightened her hold, thinking of all the things she’d miss.

Lulu would start kindergarten and ride the bus and make new friends, all without Jolene beside her. “I love you, Lucy Louida. You remember that, okay?”

“Okay.” Lulu snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes. In minutes, she was asleep.

Jolene kissed her cheek and left the bedroom. On her way out, she snagged one of Lulu’s yellow plastic barrettes from the dresser and slipped it into her pocket.

As she went downstairs, she was struck by the quiet in her house.

“Michael?”

She got no answer. Moving from room to room, she didn’t find him anywhere, but his car was in the garage. Finally, she caught a glimpse of something out front.

She stopped at the kitchen window and looked out. Moonlight glanced off a figure seated on their dock.

She slipped into the pair of boots that were always at the mudroom door. Zipping up her hoodie, she left the house and walked along the fence line down to the main road.

On the other side, she followed the wooden steps down to their dock. The full moon lit her way. She stepped on something that made a loud, cracking sound.

“I guess you found me,” Michael said, lifting a bottle to his lips.

Jolene sat down in the chair beside him. He’d built a fire in the metal pit off to the side, and some heat wafted her way.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me getting drunk is a bad idea.”

Jolene sighed. How had they come to this place, and how would they ever find their way back?

They wouldn’t.

She reached out, said, “May I?” and took the bottle from him, taking a sip of the bitter scotch. It burned all the way down.

“You must be upset,” he said.

She nodded. Normally she stayed away from alcohol, both because of her family history and because of her career. A DUI would ground her, and she would never do anything to risk her ability to fly. “I’m human, Michael. In fact, getting drunk sounds good right now.”

“I’m scared, Jo,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

She waited for him to say something more, maybe reach for her. When he didn’t, she turned to look at him.

In profile, his features sharpened by moonlight, he looked remote and cold. She saw the way he held his lips pursed in disapproval, as if the slightest relaxing would undo him, and she hated that she was leaving him now when their marriage was in trouble. She needed to believe he still loved her, or that he could love her again.

“Look at me,” Jolene said.

He took another long drink from the scotch bottle and then turned to her.