“Of course. ”
They stared at her expectantly.
Come on, Jo. Fake it.
She finally managed a smile. She refused to let her children down. “Okay, Conny. What do I do?”
“You know the answer to that, Jolene. You’re going to learn how to wrap your leg. ”
She nodded, hating the sick feeling that clutched her stomach. “Okay. But the kids don’t need to be here for this. ”
“Why not?” Michael said, coming to the side of the bed.
“They shouldn’t see this,” she told him, her eyes pleading. She could see that he was afraid, too.
“This? You mean you, Jo? We talked about it,” he said, nodding down at the girls. “It’s you, and we love you, and you’re hurt. We’re not afraid. We’re more afraid of what we can’t see. ”
“Like nightmares and monsters in the closet,” Lulu said. “When you turn on the light, poof! They’re gone and you’re safe. ”
Jolene stared at Michael, mouthed please.
We’re staying, he mouthed back.
Conny moved down to the center of the bed, opposite her family, and pulled back the covers. Jolene saw Betsy flinch at the sight. Her daughter edged toward the door.
Jolene gritted her teeth as long, dark fingers began slowly unwrapping the elastic bandage. “It’s in a figure-eight pattern, see? That’s how you wrap it back up, keeping it tight to help with the swelling. ”
Then the bandage was off; beneath was a soft white gauze.
She clutched at the blanket in her left hand, squeezed the fabric in her fist. Michael put his hand over hers, held it.
She saw her half leg for the first time, and it made her sick to her stomach. It was huge and swollen. Ugly. Tears flooded her eyes, and she fought to hold them back.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Betsy said, grunted really, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“It looks like a football,” Lulu said, frowning curiously.
Michael looked at Jolene; she saw her own emotions mirrored in his eyes: fear, loss, sadness, pity.
“Come on, Jolene,” Conny said.
She drew in a shaky breath and slowly, slowly bent forward, picking up the new gauze Conny had put beside her.
“Carefully,” Conny said, putting his hands over hers, showing her how to bandage it.
Her skin was taut and sensitive; swollen; not hers, somehow. Bile rose in her throat; she swallowed and forced herself to keep going.
For Betsy and Lulu, she thought, over and over. Act like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t hurt and make you sick. Be their mom again.
She wrapped her leg back up tightly, placed the small silver hooks in place, and then sat back, her eyes stinging as she yanked the blanket back up.
“Beautiful job,” Conny said. “Practically perfect. ” He looked down at Lulu. “You and your mom are so brave. ”
“We’re soldiers,” she said. “Well, I’m just pretend. ”
Conny smiled. “That explains it. And now, young lady, I need to get some things to help your mom exercise. You want to help me get them?”
“Can I, Daddy?” Lulu asked.