Michael Zarkades

Quick Facts

• Role: Civilian protagonist; husband to Jolene; the novel’s lens on the “home front”
• Occupation: High-performing criminal defense attorney
• First appearance: Early chapters at home, in the aftermath of his father’s death, when he forgets Jolene’s birthday and misses Betsy’s track meet
• Key relationships: Jolene (wife), Betsy and Lulu (daughters), Mila (mother), Keith Keller (client)
• Physical presence: Handsome, with wavy black hair, a squared jaw, and dark eyes—very much his father’s son; his polished look mirrors the confidence and control he tries to project

Who He Is

Bold and brilliant but emotionally adrift, Michael Zarkades begins as a man who has mistaken competence for intimacy. He equates providing with loving, and when grief strips away his professional certainty, he flails—resenting Jolene’s military calling and mistaking her resilience for rejection. The novel reframes him not as a villain but as a civilian who must learn a soldier’s language of sacrifice. His arc dramatizes how a comfortable, admired man learns humility, service, and the quiet labor of love.

Personality & Traits

Michael is a study in contradictions: idealistic about justice yet jaded by his caseload, charming in public and avoidant at home. He uses work to outrun grief, and charm to dodge accountability. Only when forced into caregiving and immersed in a case centered on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) does he begin to connect empathy with action.

• Work-obsessed, emotionally avoidant: He buries himself in briefs and trial prep, missing Betsy’s first track meet and forgetting Jolene’s birthday—mistakes that reveal where his attention truly goes.
• Initially self-absorbed: His blunt “I don’t love you anymore” centers his pain and blinds him to the shock he inflicts on Jolene and the daughters who overhear.
• Idealistic yet jaded: Years of “defending the guilty” have corroded his faith; the Keith Keller case rekindles it, forcing him to square courtroom ethics with human suffering.
• Charming, but as cover: Michael’s practiced smile smooths conflict and keeps people at bay; it works in court, but at home it becomes a way to avoid hard conversations.
• Resentful and insecure: Jolene’s strength makes him feel unnecessary. He frames her service as a choice “against” the family, masking his fear of not being enough.
• Growing empathy in action: Solo parenting—packing lunches, coaxing Lulu through bedtime, showing up for Betsy—reorients him from grand gestures to daily devotion.

Character Journey

Michael’s arc pivots on a single, shattering admission—“I don’t love you anymore”—and the long walk back from it. When Jolene deploys, he stumbles through mornings, burns dinners, and discovers the invisible scaffolding of family life she managed. Defending Keith Keller, a veteran whose violence is rooted in dissociation, becomes Michael’s education in war’s moral complexity. He begins to understand Jolene not as the person who “chooses” the Army over him, but as someone who daily carries a burden he never saw. That insight deepens into action: in court he publicly owns his ignorance; at home he learns constancy. He fails Jolene in Germany, recoiling from her wounds, then returns determined to be the partner she needs—replacing pride with presence. His story ultimately embodies the work of Marriage, Love, and Forgiveness: love remade not by speeches but by consistent care.

Key Relationships

• Jolene Zarkades: The marriage begins in rupture—his resentment meets her defensive armor. As Michael confronts the costs of service, pride replaces grievance; he learns to honor Jolene’s soldier-identity alongside her role as wife and mother. Their reconciliation is earned: he shows up, steadies himself, and invites trust rather than demanding it.
• Betsy Zarkades: A “daddy’s girl,” Betsy is gutted by his absence and by overhearing his rejection of Jolene. Michael’s growth is measured by the ordinary ways he repairs this: attending meets, apologizing without excuses, and becoming reliable enough that she stops bracing for disappointment.
• Lulu Zarkades: Lulu exposes Michael’s tenderness. The bedtime routines and morning chaos he once avoided become rituals of connection; parenting her teaches him patience and the difference between fixing and comforting.
• Mila Zarkades: Mila is his conscience—clear-eyed about his selfishness and firm about duty. Through her, Michael is reminded that strength isn’t stoicism, and that the family legacy he inherits is service, not self-importance.
• Keith Keller: More than a client, Keith becomes Michael’s portal into the Impact of War on Soldiers and Families. The case forces Michael to translate clinical realities of trauma into moral understanding, which then reframes how he sees Jolene’s pain.

Defining Moments

The turning points in Michael’s arc are less about eloquence than about what he’s finally willing to carry.

• “I don’t love you anymore”: Delivered after missing Betsy’s meet, this confession detonates the family. Why it matters: it exposes his self-involvement and sets the stakes for whether he can change before the family calcifies around that wound.
• The first morning alone: Lunches undone, shoes missing, tears all around—he fails at the logistics Jolene made look easy. Why it matters: he recognizes the invisible labor he dismissed and begins to respect what love looks like in practice.
• The Keller trial opening: In a packed courtroom he admits, “I sent her off to war without a clue as to what that meant... I’m proud of her service.” Why it matters: he bridges private shame and public responsibility, honoring Jolene while educating a civilian jury.
• The hospital in Germany: His shock at Jolene’s injuries curdles into pity—exactly what she cannot bear. Why it matters: this low point forces him to confront the difference between loving the idea of sacrifice and standing steady in its aftermath.
• After Tami Flynn’s memorial: Carrying Jolene upstairs, he chooses closeness over caution, and she chooses trust. Why it matters: intimacy becomes a mutual act of faith—the moment their marriage shifts from apology to renewal.

Essential Quotes

I don’t love you, Jo. This line is both confession and abdication. It crystallizes Michael’s self-absorption and launches the novel’s central question: can love resurrect itself after a truth this cruel, or must it be rebuilt as something new?

You wanted to fly. You, Jo. You wanted combat and war and to be all that you could be. Well, you got it, and this is who you are now. Here Michael projects his insecurity onto Jolene’s ambition. The accusation reveals how threatened he feels by her purpose—and how little he understands about service as obligation rather than personal fulfillment.

I’ve let you down a lot in the past. A small sentence that marks a large shift—from defensiveness to accountability. Michael stops arguing the past and starts owning it, creating space for trust to regrow.

I was an asshole before you left. I admit it. I was an asshole and I broke your heart and I might have ruined us. Maybe I did ruin us. But I’ve changed, Jo. I’ve changed and you don’t seem to care. I’m sick of throwing myself against the concrete wall of your defenses. You’re giving me nothing. Contrition collides with frustration. Michael names his failures but also confronts the reality that change doesn’t entitle him to instant forgiveness; Jolene’s “defenses” are wounds, not walls, and the work ahead is patience, not persuasion.