Jolene was screaming in her sleep, writhing so much the sheets and blankets had come free of their moorings and were twisted around her. Pillows lay scattered on the floor.
She screamed, “Mayday! Tami—I can’t lift you. Damn it—”
“Jolene!”
“We need a perimeter,” she yelled, crawling across the bed toward the nightstand.
“Jo!” He grabbed her by the hand and she elbowed him hard in the gut. His breath rushed out and he let go for a second. She kept moving, toward the edge of the bed.
He lunged at her so she wouldn’t fall off, put his arms around her. She punched him in the eye so hard he lost his balance, and they fell to the floor together, landing with a thud.
She came awake with a gasp, frowned in confusion. “Michael?”
Betsy and Lulu stood in the doorway, looking terrified.
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER?” Betsy shrieked.
Jolene was shaking; he could feel her trembling.
“Your mom had a nightmare, girls. That’s all. ”
“A nightmare?” Betsy shook her head. “Do we look stupid?”
“Go upstairs,” Michael said, helping Jolene stand. She was breathing like a freight train beside him. “I’ll take care of your mom. ”
“Can I sleep with you?” Lulu asked her sister. There was a tremble in her voice.
“Sure. ” Betsy took Lulu’s hand and led her away.
Jolene climbed into bed and leaned back against the headboard so hard it banged against the wall. “Sorry about that,” she said shakily.
He sat down beside her.
“I’m having … trouble, Michael,” she said, swallowing hard.
It was the closest Jolene could come to asking for help. “I know, Jo. We’ll get you some help. ”
“Are they safe with me?”
He wanted to say yes, sure, of course they are, but he was sitting here, his eye throbbing from a punch she probably didn’t remember throwing, feeling his wife tremble beside him. And the truth was, he didn’t know.
Twenty-Four
The next morning, Jolene was up before Michael.
He found her in the family room. She had a mirror set up at one end, and she was walking in front of it, studying her gait, trying to walk as naturally as she had before.
As he watched from the doorway, she tripped, fell hard, and cursed.
He went to her side, reaching out. “Jo—”
“I have to do this myself,” she said through gritted teeth, shoving his hand aside. “I have to be me again. ”
He heard the desperation in her voice and saw the fear in her eyes, and he drew back. It actually hurt to watch her climb to a stand and waver, grab the back of the chair for support.
She fell three more times while he stood there. Each time, she curled her good hand into a fist, breathed hard, and got back to her feet. She didn’t curse again, didn’t say a thing about her pain. And he knew it had to hurt like hell; Conny had told him she’d been working so hard she had blisters on her stump.
“You look great,” he said when she made a good pass and an apparently easy turn.