Translation: they were on a mission. A mission he knew nothing about. Anger began to simmer inside him. Kane might be running the ops now, but they’d always kept him in the loop.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. Saw it in her sympathetic, violet eyes. They didn’t want him to worry. Jack was sick and tired of being treated like a fragile old man. As if he hadn’t trained every single one to be the absolute best, to make sure they always came home.
He would have told her so, too, if the little ones hadn’t been about.
“I’m going upstairs for a while,” he told her firmly instead. “No, I don’t want anything. No, I don’t want company. And yes, I can make it just fine on my own.”
He took the steps one by one, clutching the railings on either side like a gymnast on the parallel bars. It was slow going, but an improvement over the last time he’d been here. He wasn’t quite as out of breath, and the pressure on his chest was negligible in comparison.
Up in his private quarters, Jack sank down in the ratty old recliner. It was nothing like the heated, vibrating chair he had at the farm, but it felt comfortable. Familiar.
He’d moved to a smaller room when Jake officially took over ownership of the Pub. At that point, they’d begun remodeling the living quarters in earnest, all of them grown. He hadn’t any interest in buying new furnishings for his space, though. If they had been good enough for Kathleen, then they were good enough for him.
The room wasn’t a shrine, by any means. Life had gone on, and he’d gone on with it. That didn’t mean he’d left everything behind. There was comfort to be had in sinking into the same chair he’d fallen asleep in countless times with one or more boys on his chest. In sliding between the sheets of the same bed in which he and Kathleen had created their family.
Memories stared back at him in the forms of framed pictures. A couple of his parents, of Kathleen’s. Wedding pictures – his and every one of his sons. Shots of the boys growing up. A photo of him, Brian, and Charlie after that first mission.
That had been a turning point, the beginning of what eventually became the Ghost Team. Oh, it hadn’t happened all at once. He was certain that despite the rush and sense of purpose that mission had given him, it would be the last. Just went to show how na?ve he’d been then.
The truth was, he liked it. He liked putting his skills to use, knowing he was making a difference. And while he hadn’t been in it for the money, it was a hell of a nice perk. Still, he would never have gone again if Kathleen had asked him not to. She must have sensed that on some level, he needed it. And damn if she hadn’t actually been fucking proud of him for it, too.
He still remembered how when he’d come back, they’d make love for hours. Afterward, she’d drape her languid body, softened by as much pleasure as he could give, over his and tell him how much she loved him. What a good, selfless man he was...
It was bullshite, of course. He’d been nothing but selfish then, riding high, foolishly thinking he’d paid enough dues to earn an easy ride. And why wouldn’t he? He had the perfect wife, the perfect family. The pub was doing well, and he was off playing hero every couple of months.
For a couple of years, he’d had it all.
He’d been a fool to think it would last.
––––––––
January, 1991
Pine Ridge
“One more for the road.” Kathleen handed him a Thermos of hot, homemade chicken soup and a flask filled with whiskey. He’d been partaking of both in an attempt to kick the head and chest cold he’d been battling for the last week or so.
Jack accepted both, stuffing the flask, which had been his father’s, into an inside pocket for later, when he wasn’t driving the treacherous snow and ice covered roads up to the private air strip. The winter had been a brutal one thus far, with record lows and above average snowfalls, making travel difficult, even for those accustomed to mountain winters.
Concern filled her eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Jack?”
“I’m feeling much better, thanks to your expert care,” he assured her. A nasty virus was working its way through the region, and had all but closed down the local schools. Kieran had been the first to get it, but one by one, it had been claiming the rest of them. Kathleen had been the only one spared thus far. She’d been playing nursemaid around the clock, pushing fluids, dispensing over the counter pain meds, fluffing pillows and providing the comfort only a mother could.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, frowning when it felt warmer than usual. “Are you running a fever? How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
Stepping back slightly, he focused on the dark purple crescents under her tired eyes and the paleness of her complexion. “You look pale.”