Home Front(71)

He closed the door behind him and walked down the gravel driveway, hearing his footsteps crunch on the small gray stones. The night smelled of low tide, vaguely sulfuric.

“Carl?” he said, drawing near. “Lomand came to see you, too?”

Carl nodded. “I needed to get out of the house. Seth is … I don’t know what the hell to say. Tami’s mom is with him now.”

“Yeah. My mom is with the girls, too. How is Tami?”

“Damn military and Red Cross haven’t told me shit. She’s alive. In critical condition. That’s what I know. Jo?”

“Alive and stable. That’s all I know. Nothing about the rest of the crew.”

“I found a letter from Tami today. She’d e-mailed it before the mission, I guess. She sounded so…” Carl’s tired voice trailed off for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Afterward, I read it again and thought, are these her last words?”

Michael had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing. But he couldn’t stand the silence, either. “You catching a flight tomorrow?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Michael stared out at the black water, listening to it lap at the shore. The longer he stood there, the more ill at ease he felt. Finally, he and Carl had something in common, but it didn’t exactly bring them together. “Well, I better get back to the girls. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right.” Carl paused, turned. “Thanks for coming down here, Michael.”

Michael nodded and headed back up to the house, but once inside he almost wished he’d stayed with Carl. Everywhere he looked, he saw Jo.

I found a letter …

He went into his office and turned on the computer, then pulled up his e-mail.

And there it was in the in-box: Jolene’s military e-mail address in bold, black type.

When had she written it? Yesterday, just before her flight?

He clicked on it.



My loves.



Thanks so much for the care packages you sent this week. I was the Queen of Dpod, I can tell you! Everyone wanted some of my tasty treats and the baklava was awesome. I took one bite and thought of all of you. Ask your Yia Yia to tell you the story of when she taught me to make it. I was not her best student, that’s for sure. Not as good as Betsy.



You know what else makes me think of home? The weather over here. It’s September and that means rain, even in the desert. The base is one big mud hole. You’d love it, Lulu. Splash! Splash!



Things are pretty much routine over here these days. I’ve been flying a lot. Recently we flew to a place called the Green Zone and had made-to-order milkshakes. Yum!



The Black Hawk is getting to be my home away from home. It has so much equipment, the whole world is at my fingertips. Whenever I look at the GPS, I think of you guys and home and I count the days till I’m back.



Until then, I know how much you both miss me, and I want you to know I miss you just as much. You are the first thing I think of every morning and the last thing I think of at night.



Lulu, I can’t wait to hear every little thing about your first day of school. I know you still feel a little scared, but try to remember that everyone feels the same way. Have you made any new friends? How is your teacher? Tell me everything!



Betsy, I know how lonely you sometimes feel these days. Middle school isn’t easy for anyone, especially not for a girl who is worried about her mom and having troubles with her friends. Life is messy—especially now—it will help if you accept the mess and let it be. Don’t be afraid to talk to Sierra about what scares you. Or Seth. Or your dad. You never know who will say just the thing you need to hear. And remember, a girlfriend can get you through the worst of times. I know because Tami is helping me every day over here.



One thing I see from here, from a distance, is how lucky we all are to have each other.





I love you both to the moon and back.



Mom



He sat back. I love you … both.

He deserved that, of course, but still it hurt. He’d thought his letter might have made a difference, but why would it? One letter—coming so late—could hardly undo the harm he’d done.

“Michael?” his mother said behind him, coming into the office.

Slowly, he turned. His chair squeaked. “There’s a letter from Jo. The girls will want to read it in the morning.”

“Come with me,” she said.

He followed her out of the office and into the family room, where she sat down in the overstuffed chair by the window. He sank onto the sofa’s deep cushions. Between them was an antique coffee table—Jolene’s first “faux finishing” project—pale blue and covered with the detritus of family life. A pencil, two photographs in drugstore frames, a poorly fired thumb pot from one of the girls, an unread magazine. If Jolene had been here, it would have been cleaner.

“You need to be strong for your girls,” his mother said. “All of them.”

“Before she left,” he said, knowing even as he formed the thought that he shouldn’t speak it aloud—it would make her ashamed of him—but he couldn’t help himself, “before she left I told her I didn’t want to be married to her anymore.”