Home Front(63)

Tami stopped. “No. Not really.”

They walked into the trailer. Tami flipped a light switch; on came the fluorescent bulb on the ceiling. Instantly, the dark little space was illuminated. There were family photographs everywhere—and a movie poster of Johnny Depp from Pirates of the Caribbean on the wall.

Tami sat down on her bed. It sagged in the middle; dust puffed up from the army-green bedding. The alarm sounded.

Jolene heard footsteps running past her trailer. She sat down opposite Tami.

Somewhere, something exploded; the lights in the trailer flickered and remained on.

When the alarm stopped and the world stilled, Tami went on as if nothing had happened: “Carl says Seth is having a hard time. Kids are making fun of him because of us. It makes me want to kick some preteen ass.”

“Michael just says the girls are fine.”

Tami looked up. “It’s not like you’re telling him the truth, either.”

“We’re hardly talking. He hasn’t sent me a single e-mail.” Jolene bent over, began unlacing her boots.

“You are getting a care package once a week. Who’s buying all that stuff and mailing it?”

“My guess? Mila. And the girls.”

“Have you written him?”

Jolene sighed. “You know I haven’t. What would I say?”

“Maybe he’s thinking the same thing.”

“I’m not the one who said I wanted a separation.”

“Are you really going to play chicken with your marriage from here?”

“I didn’t start it.”

“Who cares? Look at what we did today.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s how fast it happens, Jo. Dead. Alive.” She snapped again. “Dead. This is the time to say what needs to be said, not to play games. Your parents were losers who scarred you. I get it, I really do. But you have to find the cojones to talk to your husband or you guys are going to lose everything.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Tam. Your husband loves you.”

“It’s not easy, Jolene. None of this is easy, you know that. Michael loves you,” Tami said. “I know it.”

“No. I don’t think he does.”

“Do you love him?”

There it was, the question she’d spent months avoiding. Leave it to Tami to throw it out like the first pitch in a baseball game. “I don’t know how to stop loving him,” she answered quietly, surprising herself. “It’s in my blood. But…”

“But what? Isn’t that your answer?”

“No.” Jolene sighed. Really, she didn’t want to think about this, or talk about it. “Love is only part of it. Like forgiving is only part. Even if I could forgive him, how would I forget? He stopped loving me, Tam. Just stopped. He looked me in the eyes and said he didn’t love me anymore. How can I trust him again? How can I believe in our marriage, in forever together, if our love has some expiration date?”

“Just don’t give up. That’s all I’m saying. Write him a letter. Start.”

Jolene knew it was good advice. She believed in fighting for love; at least she once had. Lately, she had trouble remembering what she believed and who she used to be. “I’m afraid,” she said after a long silence.

Tami nodded. “He broke your heart.”

Jolene looked at her friend, sitting across from her in their dingy, smelly trailer, and she thought how lucky they were to have each other over here. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Tam. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tami smiled. “I love you, too, Jo.”





Fourteen



“We’ve got an emergency situation that’s going bad fast,” the captain said. “We need to run search and rescue in a very tight spot. Reports give us a narrow weather window. We need two helicopters in the air in fifteen minutes or less.” He turned to point at a map. “Here. We’ve got two army rangers trapped by enemy fire.”

“We can be up in ten,” Jolene assured him. She looked at Tami, who nodded sharply, and led the way to the tarmac. There was no conversation along the way.

As they walked across the base, a sharp wind blew up dust that bit into skin and eyes; it raked the flag overhead, whipped it into a frenzy. After a quick check of her craft, Jolene climbed into the left side of the cockpit and took her seat.

She was the first one inside, but within seconds, the crew was all in place. Jolene ran the preflight check, cleared departure with the tower, and started the engine.

The aircraft climbed slowly into the air as she worked the controls—her hands and feet in constant motion. With each mile flown, the dust storm intensified. Wind smacked their windshield.

“Deteriorating viz,” Jolene said. She reached over, flipped a toggle switch, and glanced at her instrument readings. Wind gusted against them, pushed the Black Hawk sideways. A pothole of air sucked at the rotors; the helicopter dropped two hundred feet in a plunging, heart-stopping second. “Hold on, guys,” Jolene said into her mouthpiece. She clung to the bucking, jerking controls and steadied the Hawk.

At the search vector, it took all of Jolene’s upper-body strength to descend evenly in the maelstrom. Below them, the land was craggy, broken.

“There’s nowhere to land,” Jamie called out.