Jack was a tired old man. He dreamed simple.
Just of a quiet nest. Loving wife, gracious daughter, honorable son.
He was a lucky man, too. Marguerite was a born domestic mama. Zoe was a good girl and a wild deer at once - gentle, sweet, and strong. And what folks said about Lucas didn't matter - boy testified when Oliver died, like he should. "Ditched him playin' in the bayou. I didn't go back for him."
Just as he'd told Jack as the gator thrashed a weeks-dead body, cracking bones.
...Jack had everything a man could want.
He knew he did.
July 5th. "Fantasy".
