CHAPTER 1

THE TRUTH STONE

Love means to commit yourself without guarantee.Anne Campbell

The plane landed and taxied up closer and closer to where Sandy stoodamong the cluster of military wives and families. Behind them, a bannerheld by two men and rippling slightly in the breeze, read, "Welcomehome from Iraq!!!" As the jet whine settled into silence, the cabin dooropened to allow a stairway to drop down. A soldier, squinting in thebright California sun, appeared at the top and waved to acknowledge thecheers of the crowd. Sandy's eyes filled with tears. She watched eagerly forher husband.

There he is! He's home. He's home. Greg's home, he's safe and tonightwe'll be together. Aching to disobey instructions and race to him, shecould only wave frantically until he spotted her. He broke into a run, hisduffel bag bouncing against his shoulder. My handsome Greg. She rushedinto his arms, hugging him tightly while he squeezed her so she couldbarely breathe. "Let's go," he whispered. Walking beside him, holding hishand, looking up at him, she knew she must be dreaming.

The dream continued through that day and that night and the nextday. Greg had come home. Nothing could ever pull them apart again.After their second day in the motel room, they drove her aging VW upRoute 80 to Berkeley and the studio apartment they'd rented in 2003, afew months after both had their degrees from the university.

That's where he'd confessed ages ago, it seemed, that he wanted to goto Iraq. "You know I've always dreamed of flying a helicopter, the sameway my dad did in Vietnam," he explained, idealism burning in his voice."The war won't last long and I can use that experience for the rest of mylife." When she didn't speak, he added, "I won't be leaving right away. Mydad told me you need math skills to be able to land and maneuver thehelicopter. I have those but I'll have to learn more, of course so I'll haveto do some training."

Trembling partly with anger and partly with fear, Sandy demandedto know, "What about us?"

He snuggled her in his arms. "Let's get married as soon as possible."She closed her eyes and leaned against him and whispered heragreement.

A tiny gathering in Berkeley City Hall replaced the grand weddingthey had planned almost from the day they met in the eighth grade. Theweek-long honeymoon became two nights in a luxury hotel and the yearthey expected to be apart stretched into a little more than two, but thenightmare had ended. He was home, safe and alive. They'd be togetherforever and ever.

As the days folded into each other, she waited for him to talk aboutIraq but he seemed more anxious to concentrate on the future. "I wantto get an old car," he told her, "so I can look for a job." When she askedabout Iraq, he answered quickly and changed the subject. She gave up.He'll talk about it when he's ready. At least, he's home and I can touch himand hear his voice and feel him close to me in bed. I should be grateful forthat. Still, she ached to share their separate adventures—to laugh and crytogether over their stories.

Several days after his homecoming, he phoned to tell her excitedly, "Igot it. I got the job. I'll be flying for KMIT, covering the Bay Area News."That night they ate out and drank several celebratory toasts to his goodfortune. "We can move," he told her, beaming. "Let's start looking thisweekend." Eventually, they found a two-bedroom apartment on HearstStreet. Life was full and wonderful, except for that first morning Sandyhad to rush to the bathroom. I feel lousy.

As the day wore on, the nausea passed but when she threw up againthe next morning, she decided to tell him. While he was dressing forwork, she eased in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders."Sweetheart, I think I have some news for you." She linked her handsbehind his head. "Remember the night we celebrated your new job.Well ..." she paused dramatically, "I think we're pregnant." Insteadof sweeping her into his arms, he stared at her without moving before,belatedly, as though realizing what she wanted, he pulled her to him andheld her.

"That's great. Are you sure?" She wondered why his voice soundedshaky.

"Well, I've thrown up two mornings in a row and yet I feel betteras the day goes on, so I guess I am. Aren't you happy about it? Is it toosoon?"

"No, no, it isn't too soon and yes, I'm happy. I'm just—well, surprised,I guess." He held her for a long time. "I'd better get going. I'm a little late.You take it easy today and we'll talk some more tonight. I'll just grab abowl of cereal and I'll call you later." He finished dressing, ate quicklyand was gone.

The incident passed and once she had seen a doctor and received thefinal diagnosis, Sandy invited both sets of parents to Sunday dinner. Theywere ecstatic, slapping Greg on the back and patting Sandy's stomach.Greg smiled and laughed with them, but Sandy couldn't shake heruneasiness. She did her best to ignore it, telling herself she had betterstart preparing. A few nights later, searching in her drawer for clothesshe could wear to fit a thickening waist, she stopped and grinned. "Greg,look what I found." As he came into the room, she showed him the small,white, ocean-polished stone lying in her palm. "Remember this—thetruth stone? Remember when our eighth-grade class went to Santa Cruzfor our end-of-the year outing and I found this on the beach? I teasedyou that it was magical. 'If you hold this in your hand,' I told you, 'youhave to tell the truth or demons will come and tickle you to death.'" Shegrinned again. "Let's do it. Let's try it—come on." She closed her eyes."Yesterday, I had an extra brownie which I'm not supposed to eat becauseI'm not supposed to gain too much weight." She opened her eyes and heldout the stone.

He stared at it before slowly taking it from her palm. Sandy waitedfor him to speak but had to strain to hear him when he finally...