“Will do.”

“And good luck in the race.”

“Thanks! It’s a tough one, all right. But you know how it is. Excuses are for people who don’t want it bad enough. Naomi says—”

“Drive safely!” she said and closed the door.

Sarge came over and licked her knee.

“That went well, don’t you think?” she asked. “Me, too. And this, my friend, calls for some Ben & Jerry’s. We can talk about your whorish ways later.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JACK GOT BACK from Savannah just in time for dinner with Dad and Mrs. Johnson. “How was your trip, my darling boy?” Mrs. J. asked after he finished his third helping of roast pork, peas and salt potatoes, his favorite.

“It was okay,” he said. “And it’s done. That’s the best part.”

“How’s her family?” Dad asked.

“They’re great.”

“I always liked them,” he said.

“But not her,” Mrs. J. said. “I told you, Jack, that woman wasn’t good enough for you, but you didn’t listen to me, did you?”

“No, Mrs. J. And I should have. I’m sorry. Please can I have some pie?”

“In a moment, you ungrateful child.” She folded her arms. “What’s this nonsense I hear about you and Emmaline Neal?”

“Don’t worry. That’s over.” His voice was casual, but the words caused an odd tightness in his chest. He and Emmaline hadn’t been together very long, really. He shouldn’t feel so...hollow.

Mrs. Johnson turned to the counter and cut him a piece of pie. “It being over is the nonsense to which I’m referring, Jackie.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and Jack looked down. He was used to glossing over things where the Coven was concerned. Mrs. Johnson, though...she wasn’t so easy to brush off.

“Hyacinth,” Dad said, “could you give us a moment, sweetheart?”

“Of course, my darling. Jackie, listen to your father.” She kissed Jack on the cheek, then left the kitchen. If Jack knew her (and he did) she’d eavesdrop.

“What’s up?”

Dad gave him a long look. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be,” he said, too quickly. Somehow, his father’s kind eyes made Jack feel a thousand times worse.

“I am, son. You seem lost.”

Shit. Jack’s throat tightened. “I’m doing okay.”

Dad didn’t speak right away, but when he did, his voice was soft. “When your mother died,” he said, “there were days when I didn’t know how I got from one place to the next. I’d be down in the barn and think, ‘How did I get here? Did I eat breakfast? Did I drive here?’ Sometimes I’d see my face in the mirror and I wouldn’t even recognize myself.”

Jack knew the feeling. He just didn’t want his father—or anyone in his family—to lose sleep over him.

“So I see you these days, son, and I recognize that lost look.” His father put his hand over Jack’s. “I know you’re hurting. We all do. I know it’s not going to go away overnight, either. What happened with those kids was terrifying.”

“I keep thinking,” Jack said, and the words were hard to get out, “if I’d done something different, if I’d been even twenty or thirty seconds faster, or even ten, maybe...”

“You’re only human. You did everything you could. You helped them. Those other boys would all be dead without you, Jack. You saved three lives that night. Those matter, too.”

Jack nodded. Swallowed. He knew his father was right. Feeling that, though...believing it was harder.

“I want you to stop in at Honor’s,” Dad said. “She has the name of a couple of therapists who specialize in PTSD. Will you do that?”

Jack nodded again. He stood up, and Dad did, too, and Jack hugged his father. Dad, who was as solid and enduring as an oak tree. “I don’t want you to worry about me, Dad,” he whispered.

“That’s ridiculous,” Dad murmured, hugging him back. “I’m your father. Mrs. J.’s your stepmother. Your sisters adore you, and you’ve always been here for us. Let us take care of you for once.”

* * *

HONOR HAD A LIST, of course, complete with phone numbers, emails and office hours. “Come on, brother,” she said after she handed it to him. “Let’s walk up to the cemetery.” She clipped the leash on Spike, who bounced and pranced and bit Jack’s boot.

The night was cool, but spring was coming. Tomorrow, Ned was planning to tap the trees so they could make maple syrup, and in another month, the Hollands would gather for the blessing of the crops. Pops was still with them, Faith and Levi’s baby would be here, Tom and Honor were married now and Charlie was living with them full-time.

Josh would be dead by then, Jack guessed.

Honor opened the gate to the cemetery, and they sat on one of the benches. There were flowers on Mom’s grave. There always were.

“You gonna lecture me, too?” Jack asked.

“I’m so good at it,” Honor said, linking her arm through his.

“True.” Her dog nuzzled its way into Jack’s coat. “You and Tom seem happy.”

“Thanks. We are.”

“Charlie, too.”

“He’s pretty great.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I was surprised you and Em broke up,” she said. “She seemed kind of perfect for you.”

An image of Emmaline coming through his door, a smile on her face, rolled over Jack like a truck. Her in the bathtub, up to her neck in suds. In the hotel room in Malibu, that smear of chocolate on her cheek. Laughing with her teenagers.

“I didn’t really plan on this,” he admitted. “It’s not like it was with Hadley.”

“Thank God,” Honor said, her tone dry.

“If I ask you a question, will you tell the rest of the Coven?”

“It depends on how much you spend on my next birthday present.” She nudged his arm. “No, of course I won’t tell.”

“How did you know with Tom?”

She didn’t answer right away, which was good, because unlike his other two sisters, it meant she was actually thinking. Pru would say something about the raw animal attraction between her and Carl. Faith would say something dreamy and mushy.

Honor would tell him the truth.

“I guess it was pretty simple. I pictured what I wanted in the future, and he was it. His smile, his laugh, his voice. I couldn’t see me with anyone else. We, um...we didn’t have the most typical start, but when it came down to it, he was just...the one.”

There had been a night with Emmaline...a completely unremarkable night at his house. He’d cooked dinner, and she told him about a call involving a squirrel that had somehow gotten into Barb Nelson’s china cabinet, and the subsequent rubble the rodent caused. Jack had laughed long and hard when she told him how she had to trip Everett and take his gun so he wouldn’t shoot the wee beastie, Barb snapping pictures for the newspaper. They’d watched a movie after dinner. Well, half a movie. Maybe a third, because they’d ended up doing it on the couch, Em’s skin so soft, her eyes big and dark.