 Which best describes how Edith feels about Henry's return home?
Several of the churches in town had shown indecision as to how to instruct their parishioners to treat him. He wanted a meal at his own table, a kiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some old friends and a relative or two. The head of the American Legion and the chief of police, who had escorted him on this trip from the square, didn't ask to go in with him. They held onto each other as if seeking mutual support, the thirty-three-year old woman and ten-year-old boy. So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, that everything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, General Carlisle, had said it would early this morning before he left Washington. Edith was leading him into the living room, her hand lying still in his, a cool, dead bird lying still in his. Carlisle had said his position was analogous to Columbus', to Vasco De Gama's, to Preshoff's when the Russian returned from the Moon—but more so. He and Edith sat beside each other, and he wanted badly to take her in his arms, and yet he didn't want to oppress her. He saw twin beds separated by an ornate little table with an ornate little lamp, and this looked more ominous a barrier to him than the twelve-foot concrete-and-barbed-wire fence around the experimental station.
 She is uncertain about how the Henry in front of her is different from the one who left 11 months ago
 She is uncertain about how the Henry in front of her is different from the one who left 11 months ago  She feels relieved that he made it back from his trip alive.  She is thankful that her family is now back together.  She is nervous about how the environment of Henry's trip might have changed him.