She sweeps the floor, then pulls the oven racks out and starts cleaning the oven.
9 a.m. turns to 10 a.m. and then 11 a.m., and she goes into the living room to collect and throw away some old magazines that she had thought she would use for recipes…a year ago, before their lives were turned upside-down.
"Where's Dad?" Sean asks, kicking the couch.
Jack is walking around the room restlessly, holding a book in front of his face—but he hasn't turned a page in five minutes.
"He had breakfast with Grandpa."
"Mom, you're like stress-cleaning. It's because of…what today is, isn't it?"
"Boys, please sit down and look at me."
When they're on the couch, Jack playing nervously with his glasses, she sits down in the armchair and makes eye contact with both of them.
"Yes, I'm worried about your dad. He had said he wanted a quiet family day, but then late last night, he told me he needed to meet your grandfather for breakfast. He promised me he would come home. But I'm still…a little nervous."
"You don't think he would…?" Sean trails off.
"Sean, remember what we've told you? It's okay to say the words."
He bites his lip. "You don't think Dad would…try to kill himself again, do you?"
"No. He's been doing really well; he's talking to me, he's spending more time with you boys, he's working fewer hours, he's taking his meds—and he said he was excited about your lacrosse game tonight."
"I don't wanna play anymore," Jack says, and just then the door opens.
"I'm home!" Danny starts to yell, then stops when he sees them. He sits down. "What's wrong?"
"Mom was stress-cleaning, and we were worried about you because of…what today is," Jack says.
Danny looks at her, emotions flashing in his eyes—regret and fear and worry and sorrow and love—and he pulls Linda into a hug, motions the boys to join them.
Linda snuggles into his chest, tries to put her arms around all three of her men, feels the boys on either side, and Danny—strong, alive, healing—in front of her, dropping kisses in her hair. "I'm here," he says huskily. "I'm right here. I…I promise, a repeat of last year is the farthest thing from my mind right now."
"Promise?" Sean sniffles, sounding younger than his 12 years.
Danny pulls away, puts his hands on Sean's and Jack's shoulders. "I promise," he says making eye contact with each of them. "I need to talk to your mom; can you boys go upstairs, please?"
"We did all our chores; can we play a video game?"
"Thirty minutes, while I talk to your mom; then we're going to have a fun family day."
She tries not to worry as she follows Danny upstairs. "Babe, what's wrong? How was breakfast with your dad? Did something happen? You're…you're scaring me."
He sits down on their bed, pulls her close. "Nothing happened. But I went somewhere else before I met up with Dad; that's why I was home later than I'd planned. I'm sorry."
He clears his throat. "I…kept thinking about closure. How we tell vics and survivors it's important. And I knew I needed to do something to put this whole past year behind me…so I went back to the pier."
She starts to speak, but he holds up his hand. "Doc knew I was going there, and he met me there. We talked. He asked me—imagine that!—he asked me if I thought I was doing better, so we talked a bit about that. And then he gave me this."
He pulls the dog tags out of his pocket, hands them to her.
She blinks back tears when she's read the inscription: True strength is not trying to make it to shore by yourself. True strength is reaching out for help when you're drowning. To the strongest man I know—Doc."
It's a little wordy; she'd have tightened the phrasing a bit, but the sentiment behind the words is priceless.
"Doc is right, you know, Danny. Picking up the phone to call him—instead of trying to handle it yourself—that took strength and courage. And I am proud as hell of you for it. And I actually…have a little gift for you, too."
He mutters something under his breath—it sounds like "This better not become an annual thing with you and Doc"—but takes the box anyway.
She hands him the box, watches his face as he opens it.
She'd gotten him a ring with tiny anchors engraved on it. The box said inside: "I'll be your anchor in life's ocean."
Danny slips his wedding ring off, puts the new ring on his finger, then puts his wedding band back on, locks their bedroom door, and kisses her with a passion she hasn't seen since before Corporal Russell's suicide.
The past fourteen months have been hell on their whole family, and someday she's going to have to face the toll they've taken on her, but for now she's content to lie in the arms of the man who's been her anchor since high school. He's here, he's alive, he's with her—and that's all that matters.