Home Front(83)

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.”