Page 43 of Salute, To Bravery
Jane
I quickly dry my hands with a kitchen towel and rush to grab my cell phone on the last shrill ring.
“Mrs. Scott?” I hear a hesitant voice on the other end.
My heart races as I hold the phone between my shoulder and head.
I’m trying to finish cleaning up before rushing off to another hockey camp practice for our twins before the season goes into full swing.
The clatter of dishes sloppily placed on the counter and the distant sound of kids arguing over their homework fill the air.
“Yes?” I respond, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the chaos around me.
“I regret to inform you, Ma’am, but your husband was injured in Afghanistan. Normally, we would send someone to be there with you at this time. However, your sister-in-law, Sergeant Scott, told me she would have my balls if someone didn’t call you ASAP.”
My body tenses at his words, and I freeze with fear. The kitchen fades into a blur as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Preparing myself for the worst possible news, I manage to ask, “How serious is it?” Thankful for Reilynn in this moment more than ever before.
My greatest fear has become a reality, something I always pray never happens when my husband is deployed as frequently as he is.
But there is always that lingering possibility in the back of my mind.
And unfortunately, our luck has finally run out.
There’s a pause, heavy and suffocating. I can hear the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
“He’s stable, but has sustained significant injuries. We’re arranging for his transport to a military hospital now.”
“Is Craig… will he be okay? Is Reilynn okay?” My voice trembles despite my best efforts to sound strong. I glance at the clock, its ticking a relentless reminder of how quickly life can change.
“We’re doing everything we can,” he assures me, but his words feel hollow. “I can’t provide all the details yet. You’ll need to prepare for his arrival, and I suggest you gather your family. They’ll want to be there for support.”
Support. I let the word sink in, but all I can think about is the image of my husband, possibly lying in a hospital bed, far from home.
The twins’ laughter suddenly seems distant, replaced by an overwhelming wave of dread.
What do I even do? It wasn’t like this was something that happened on a regular basis.
I wished someone were here to help me through this.
“Mrs. Scott? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” I swallow hard, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over, but I need to hold it together; the kids can’t know. “What do I need to do?”
“Please stay near your phone. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more information. Please make sure to tell Sergeant Scott we called, too.” He pauses. “And, Ma’am, I’m truly sorry.”
As the call ends, I’m left with a hollow silence that feels impossibly loud.
My hands tremble as I place the phone down, the kitchen now a chaotic battlefield of half-finished chores.
I can’t stay here. I need to gather the twins, to shield them from the weight of this news for just a moment longer.
Wiping away the tear streaks on my face, I take a deep breath, steeling myself, then step into the living room.
“Kids! Let’s get ready for practice!” I call out, my voice a little too bright, a little too forced. They rush in, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. Just hold it together , plenty of women have been through this before.
But it wasn’t like there was a ‘how to handle shit when your husband gets injured’ pamphlet.
I didn’t need to do this alone.I quickly called my mother-in-law and let her know what little information I had.
She would know what to do, having been a military spouse herself at one point.
There was no way I could do this without her.
She was always supporting us and being the voice of reason early on in our marriage.
I can’t let them see my fear, not yet. I will hold it together for them, for him. My husband is fighting for our family; the least I can do is fight for him, too.