Jack Takes the Reins
“I don’t understand…why are you calling me about this, Margene? She’s what…no-of course I care. Dammit, let me get dressed and I’ll be on over. You better make sure MacEibhir’s alright with me doing this…” Jack Anderson hung up his phone and shook his head. Of all the…he didn’t know who was more stubborn at times, Wilber Jansen or his daughter. It’s a debate he’s had with himself for more than thirty years now.
***
The first thing Jack noticed as he pulled into the vehicle-heavy drive at Flint Creek was that someone had tied paper wedding bells and flowers to the fence posts. The second thing that caught his attention was the honey blonde standing on the front porch, apparently waiting for him. Margene.
“Well, get your fine butt up here, Jack. Laine’s a mess.” The bride to be probably wasn’t quite that distressed, Margie had a flair for the dramatic and Jack was well aware of it. “Look at you, even put the fancy boots on…”
“Stuff it, blondie. Where’s she at,” it was a wedding, what did she expect him to wear?
The pair moved into the house and through the semi-crowd of people milling about inside. Jack ignored the laughter and the sounds of deeply accented voices, all Irish and lilting, focused as he was on what Margene had told him over the phone. He supposed it was a good thing that the groom’s family seemed unaware of the potential chaos brewing, it likely meant the groom himself wasn’t privy to it either. When Jack reached the closed door to the master bedroom, he paused. Hesitated before knocking.
There was a time when he’d open that door and walk in unannounced. Of course, that was years ago and when a different member of the Jansen family occupied the space. Wes. Jack closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Dammit, man…you should be here doing this for her, not me. He stifled the odd mixture of emotions churning deep in his gut and knocked softly, then opened the door. Whatever he was feeling could be dealt with later, and hopefully with the aid of a strong drink or two.
“Hey, Lainy May…” He put on a smile for the woman sitting on the end of the bed, hoped she didn’t see the sadness in his blue eyes as he looked over her white gown, the mass of gauzy material that must be a veil laying beside her. “A little stool pigeon told me you were missing something.”
He’d be happy for her. He’d make today perfect for her. Jack would do it because he still loved her and because he would keep the promises he made to Laine’s brother, his best friend. He’d do it even though it was killing him.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Jack?” Laine sniffled, wiped at her eyes and nose with a white handkerchief.
The redheaded young woman who had been trying to touch up Laine’s makeup quietly excused herself, taking Margene by the hand as she left the room, giving them some privacy. Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, scratched the back of his neck. He’d have to thank that little gal later.
“I’m talking about the fact that you need someone to give you away.” Almost twenty-four years ago, her brother had given Laine to him. When had he managed to let her go? “Margie called me and told me you were crying and your daddy was still being a sonofa-anyway, I’m here if you want me, Lainy.”
“Jesus, Jack.” He wasn’t sure if it was disbelief, awe or some combination thereof that shaded Laine’s whispered retort. He did smile at the way her eyes went wide and she got to her feet.
Jack held an arm out to her, “Come here, baby girl. You look gorgeous. I hope MacEibhir knows what he’s in for with you. Maybe he can give you what I couldn’t seem to-”
He was cut off as Laine stepped into his embrace and hugged him tightly, fiercely. “Jack, you ain’t gotta do this.”
“Baby girl,” oh how he was going to miss calling her that, he doubted the Irishman would stand for it, Jack knew he’d have bristled at anyone else calling his wife that. His wife…not any more, hadn’t been for a long time. “Of course I do. You see, when I got to marry you; I made Wes a couple of promises. One of them was that I’d always take care of you, no matter what. Do what I could to make you happy. So you stop crying, dry those pretty eyes and get Margene to put the fluffy nonsense in your hair so I can hand you over to MacEibhir.”
“I love you, Jack. You know that, right?”
“Right back at you, Hardhead.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead to keep from having to say anything else; the lump forming in his throat was going to make more words difficult. He was going to give his ex-wife away to a man he begrudgingly liked and maybe even respected.
There were times when Jackson Anderson didn’t understand his life at all.
Laine Anderson//Original Character//867
***
The first thing Jack noticed as he pulled into the vehicle-heavy drive at Flint Creek was that someone had tied paper wedding bells and flowers to the fence posts. The second thing that caught his attention was the honey blonde standing on the front porch, apparently waiting for him. Margene.
“Well, get your fine butt up here, Jack. Laine’s a mess.” The bride to be probably wasn’t quite that distressed, Margie had a flair for the dramatic and Jack was well aware of it. “Look at you, even put the fancy boots on…”
“Stuff it, blondie. Where’s she at,” it was a wedding, what did she expect him to wear?
The pair moved into the house and through the semi-crowd of people milling about inside. Jack ignored the laughter and the sounds of deeply accented voices, all Irish and lilting, focused as he was on what Margene had told him over the phone. He supposed it was a good thing that the groom’s family seemed unaware of the potential chaos brewing, it likely meant the groom himself wasn’t privy to it either. When Jack reached the closed door to the master bedroom, he paused. Hesitated before knocking.
There was a time when he’d open that door and walk in unannounced. Of course, that was years ago and when a different member of the Jansen family occupied the space. Wes. Jack closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Dammit, man…you should be here doing this for her, not me. He stifled the odd mixture of emotions churning deep in his gut and knocked softly, then opened the door. Whatever he was feeling could be dealt with later, and hopefully with the aid of a strong drink or two.
“Hey, Lainy May…” He put on a smile for the woman sitting on the end of the bed, hoped she didn’t see the sadness in his blue eyes as he looked over her white gown, the mass of gauzy material that must be a veil laying beside her. “A little stool pigeon told me you were missing something.”
He’d be happy for her. He’d make today perfect for her. Jack would do it because he still loved her and because he would keep the promises he made to Laine’s brother, his best friend. He’d do it even though it was killing him.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Jack?” Laine sniffled, wiped at her eyes and nose with a white handkerchief.
The redheaded young woman who had been trying to touch up Laine’s makeup quietly excused herself, taking Margene by the hand as she left the room, giving them some privacy. Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, scratched the back of his neck. He’d have to thank that little gal later.
“I’m talking about the fact that you need someone to give you away.” Almost twenty-four years ago, her brother had given Laine to him. When had he managed to let her go? “Margie called me and told me you were crying and your daddy was still being a sonofa-anyway, I’m here if you want me, Lainy.”
“Jesus, Jack.” He wasn’t sure if it was disbelief, awe or some combination thereof that shaded Laine’s whispered retort. He did smile at the way her eyes went wide and she got to her feet.
Jack held an arm out to her, “Come here, baby girl. You look gorgeous. I hope MacEibhir knows what he’s in for with you. Maybe he can give you what I couldn’t seem to-”
He was cut off as Laine stepped into his embrace and hugged him tightly, fiercely. “Jack, you ain’t gotta do this.”
“Baby girl,” oh how he was going to miss calling her that, he doubted the Irishman would stand for it, Jack knew he’d have bristled at anyone else calling his wife that. His wife…not any more, hadn’t been for a long time. “Of course I do. You see, when I got to marry you; I made Wes a couple of promises. One of them was that I’d always take care of you, no matter what. Do what I could to make you happy. So you stop crying, dry those pretty eyes and get Margene to put the fluffy nonsense in your hair so I can hand you over to MacEibhir.”
“I love you, Jack. You know that, right?”
“Right back at you, Hardhead.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead to keep from having to say anything else; the lump forming in his throat was going to make more words difficult. He was going to give his ex-wife away to a man he begrudgingly liked and maybe even respected.
There were times when Jackson Anderson didn’t understand his life at all.
Laine Anderson//Original Character//867