Page 34 of Where You're Planted

Briar squeezed her eyes shut. Here it came. The shutdown. Or the tantrum. Either one meant they were definitely not going to that ceremony. Exhaustion set in from all the manual labor today, and from reining in every impulse to shout, “Don’t look at me! Don’t look at my house!” the whole time her friends had been here. She didn’t have the energy to regulate her own frayed emotions so she could help Briar regulate hers. But there was some relief in knowing that they’d have to stay home because of it.

Except, instead of spinning out or shutting down, Briar opened her eyes and said, “Dr. Sharon thinks it could be good to say thank you.” Her eyes were wide and clear, imploring Tansy to understand. “It’s called…” She scrunched her face, looking for the word, and finally said, “Closure.”

“Closure,” Tansy said, her voice thin in the face of Briar’s determination. Damn it. How could she possibly argue with that?

12

Jack

“I can’t believe youlied,” Jack grumbled, shifting in the hard plastic chair reserved for him.

Omar grinned and leaned in to whisper, “How else was I gonna get you here?”

He’d claimed he needed help picking up a new dresser and fed Jack the driving directions one turn at a time until the final right into the Legacy Woods subdivision, where the rescuer recognition ceremony Jack had already clearly declared zero interest in attending was happening, right now.

“Joke’s on you,” Jack muttered back, “because don’t think for one second I’m driving you home after this.”

Omar’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh.

Behind the podium within reach of their front-row seats stood the subdivision’s HOA president, a woman with a gem-encrusted brooch of a snail on her blazer lapel and bracelets that jangled every time she pressed an emotional palm to herchest, as she was doing now. Her gaze darted to the two of them, distracted by their whispering, and Jack refrained from checking his watch, although if her speech went on much longer, he was going to have an aneurysm.

The ceremony had started with a long-winded prayer out front, where a new bench had been installed, a shiny plaque dedicating it toHouston’s Angels. Which had made Jack think first ofCharlie’s Angelsand then of that Sarah McLachlan song that played during those overwrought ASPCA commercials. Now it was stuck in his head. He’d tried to bail when the group of twenty or so residents and the handful of honorees—a few of Omar’s fire department buddies and some other random do-gooders with boats—shuffled into the small clubhouse, but Omar had boxed him in at the back, forcing him forward. It had been too congested to make his way back out without causing a scene, so he’d sat reluctantly, judging all the other guys who’d willingly turned up to be publicly lauded for their good deed.

The only silver lining in all this was that Tansy wasn’t here. He’d looked. He was human. Not that he expected her to go out of her way to recognize his role in her rescue, because she seemed more put out by it than grateful.

When the HOA president found her place in her speech again, Omar murmured, “You could take a minute to appreciate something nice, you know.”

“This is nice?” Jack said, nodding at the single platter of Costco cookies and the dispenser of coffee that no one had partaken of yet, so no one else would either.

“Yeah, man. It’s nice that you did a nice thing. It’s nice that these people want to acknowledge it.”

“I did what anyone would have done. Not like I risked my life or something. I drove a boat.”

“Or,” Omar offered, “you could see this as proof that, despite all the crap at work you can’t change and all the obstacles popping up in your way right now, you still have the power to make a difference for people.Thesepeople. And, I don’t know, maybe take a minute to see the evidence of somegoodin the world.”

It was a speech straight out of Amy’s mouth if he’d ever heard one, which both shut Jack up and filled him with restless tension.

When he’d agreed to help with the nonexistent dresser, Omar had promised they wouldn’t talk aboutit. Amy. The pregnancy. Still, Jack had tried. He’d congratulated him, asked if he was excited or nervous about having a girl. Omar had studied him a long time across the cab of the truck and then said simply, “I couldn’t be happier, man.”

Jack knew it was killing Omar not to bring it up, though. For all his big, brawny physique and ability to morph into a CrossFit-loving, macros-counting adrenaline junkie at a moment’s notice, Omar was surprisingly forthcoming with his emotions. The guy still snuck handwritten poetry into Amy’s planner and her glovebox. Hecriedwhen he was happy, right in the open. So it absolutely went against his nature to hold back way too much information about ultrasounds and Amy’s cravings and his own feelings about becoming a dad.

The guilt of this settled into Jack’s gut, a new layer of gritty sediment covering the layers that were already there. He wanted to be the guy they deserved—the guy who didn’t flinch at the wordbabyand could separate his own tangled feelings from the happiness he wanted to share with them. But apparently, even after six years, he wasn’t that guy yet.

The men around Jack rose and shuffled to the ends of the two front rows, and Jack again had no choice but to follow.They lined up in front of the podium, turning to face the crowd for applause. The HOA president began shaking their hands and attaching, with some struggle, commemorative pins to their shirts. This was hell. At this rate, it’d be a solid five minutes before she made her way to his end, and the whole time, he’d have to stand here, looking like he thought hedeservedall this fuss.

He searched the room, wondering if he’d even recognize any of the other people he’d helped, aside from Tansy and her daughter. Most had been covered in rain ponchos and hats, and it had been dark. Plus, he was terrible with faces. He wasn’t sure which was worse, standing up here taking credit for rescuing people he didn’t even remember, or accepting applause from folks he hadn’t even helped.

But then his eyes landed on a face hedidrecognize. He’d missed her earlier somehow, or she’d shown up late. Tansy was standing at the back of the room, next to the door, looking a little like he felt, like she wanted to bolt. But she lifted a hand in a tiny wave and offered a small smile. It caught him off guard. He would have expected her to be annoyed to see him.

He would have expectedhimselfto be annoyed to seeher. Maybe being somewhere else, outside work, softened the agitation she usually inspired. He averted his eyes, but now that he knew she was there, he could feel her across the small room, that tiny smile a lingering afterimage.

Shoving his hands into his pockets but then pulling them back out, he chanced another glance at her. She was bending to speak to her daughter, who was seated in the back row. The kid waved enthusiastically at him, and his hand lifted of its own volition to return the gesture, incapable of leaving her hanging, surprisingly warmed by her joy. She beamed a broad grin and twisted to whisper excitedly back to Tansy.

When the woman came to attach the pin to Jack’s shirt, he blocked her attempt, holding his palm out instead, grunting a firm, “Thanks.” Finally, it was all over. Everyone rose from their seats to descend upon Jack, trapping him at the front of the room. Strangers pressed their palms into his, clutched his forearms, and thanked him profusely. Some even wrapped him up in sudden hugs. He felt his blood pressure rising with every new touch, every new face. Eventually he slipped through the crowd and nearly out the back door when a voice cut through the din. “Jack, wait!”

He didn’t turn, just gestured at the door as he continued to stride toward it as if to say,Sorry, can’t stop this train. He couldn’t think in here.

He pushed outside. It had been a warm day for late January, and the lingering heat coupled with the stuffiness of that crowded room made him unbutton his collar and shove up his sleeves.

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