Brian Collins, a captain in Iraq
Destiny, who is 5, comes in next, hops on a plastic bike and rumbles over the kitchen linoleum.
The phone rings again.
"Can someone get that?"
Cari yells, balancing a second load from the car.
Ashlin, who is 10, heads straight for the DVD player and starts a Barbie movie. Cartoon doll singing warbles into the house. The phone rings a third time. Karina, who is in high school, finally picks up.
"Mo-om, it's for yo-ou!"
Thursday night at the Collins' house in Wasilla: Four girls, two rabbits, a dog and a phone that never stops. Chaotic, but still you can feel something's missing.
There's no smell of coffee first thing in the morning, no man-size shoes on the mat by the door, no one to sleep on the other side of Cari's bed. Brian Collins, a captain in Iraq, has been deployed more than a year. He lives in e-mail and telephone lines. The younger girls fall asleep each night clutching a plush doll made with his picture ironed on cloth.
Cari, who is now 39, and Brian found each other in the Army, at Fort Jackson in South Carolina. At the time Cari was raising two daughters from a previous relationship. She and Brian had gone to the same basic training and even sang in the same church choir, but didn't start dating until they were in advanced individual training, learning to photograph and record combat. Months into their relationship, their drill instructor called them to her office and told them it would never work, but they celebrated their 10th wedding anniversary this month, long distance, with love letters and a surprise open canfrom Victoria's Secret.
Brian, 38, is career military and that's a choice they've made together. She left the Army after Ashlin was born. Brian's been away from the family plenty of times before. But, nothing's been like this deployment.
The only place they could find an affordable house big enough for five children was in Wasilla, far away from Fort Richardson, where Cari was comfortable and able to make easy connections with other women. Even though her neighborhood was dotted with the homes of other Army wives, she felt lonely. Her sister died from cancer just before Brian shipped out. Her oldest daughter, Cristina, left home for college.
Isolated in a suburban subdivision, one loss seemed to bleed into the next.
In the weeks that followed Brian's departure, Cari couldn't keep up. The girls got behind in home school. She just wanted to sleep, and would have if she didn't have swim practice, groceries, teenager angst and a never-ending stream of laundry.
