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"What's a coward?" Katie asked.
The question caught Tess completely off guard. Reluctant to let go of the puzzle, she glanced down at Katie. "Why do you ask?"
"You always say Daddy's a coward, and that's why Johnny's dead."
Tess gasped at the cruelty of the remark. It took a moment to compose herself enough to answer. She curled her arms more tightly around both girls, feeling the slight trembling of their bodies. "Your daddy's not a coward."
"How do you know?" Savannah asked.
Tess smiled grimly. "Because he stayed with me all these years. And from what I can tell, that takes courage of the purest kind."
Katie smiled and leaned against Tess again.
Absently Tess smoothed the child's hair. Again they lapsed into silence. It was a few seconds before Katie's innocent question hit home.
Johnny.
You always say Daddy's a coward, and that's why Johnny's dead.
Tess straightened. "Savannah, who's Johnny?"
"Daddy's brother. He died in the war. You know that."
The war. The word landed in Tess's lap like a gift from God. Excitement made her heart race. She knew better than to jump to conclusions, but she couldn't help herself. Her next question came eagerly. "Was your daddy in the war, too?"
"Yeah."
Tess sagged with relief. The puzzle pieces fell into place. Gunshots, firecrackers, loud noises; they were all triggers.
Something had happened to Jack in the war. Something so terrible, he couldn't deal with it; so painful, his conscious mind worked to keep it covered and out of sight.
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Whatever it was, he'd run from it then, and he was running from it now.
Tess leaned back into the pile of pillows. Hope surged through her. Now his fear had a name. A reason. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. It was that he didn't trust himself.
Tess's breath released in a relieved sigh. This was something they could work through.
"Hey," she said quietly, "do y'all want to sleep with me?"
Both girls nodded at once.
Tess leaned over and blew out the lamp. Then, curling tightly together under the heavy coverlet, they all fell asleep.
Outside, the storm raged on.
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, without a trace of the torrent that had ravaged the land the night before. Tess stood on the porch with Caleb in her arms, waving good-bye to the girls as they left for school. Beside her, the oak's leaves glistened in the pale sunlight.
In her arms, Caleb gurgled playfully. Rocking gently side to side, Tess stared across the rolling pasture and thought about last night.
Post traumatic stress disorder.
She'd studied the disorder in a few of her graduate-level psych courses. From what she could remember, it was a condition suffered by a wide range of people?accident survivors, rape and child abuse victims, wartime soldiers. Anytime a trauma was too intense or too severe to be handled, the mind simply shut it out in self-defense. Amnesia, blackouts, insomnia, anger, and depression were all completely normal responses.
In class, they hadn't specifically discussed the Civil War, but she knew it had to have been the most psychologically devastating of any war. Brothers, fathers, uncles,
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