Different Circumstances: Part 5A of ? by Marzee Doats

Author's Note: One thing. I'm obsessed with the gas supply on Jericho. Maybe it's because I drive 40 miles round trip to work, and fill up my car at least once a week, but I just don't understand why these people didn't start worrying about gas a lot earlier than they did. So now, Jake worries.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

"Jake Green!" Stanley greeted, overly loudly.  "What are you doin' here in the middle of the night?"

Mary Bailey snorted.  "It stopped being night hours ago, Stanley," she told him, pointing to a high window through which the early morning light streamed in.  She smiled at Jake.  "Coffee?"

"Please," Jake yawned.  He slid onto a barstool next to Mimi Clark, Stanley's IRS agent, whom he'd finally met the day before.  "Heather," he started, but everything else he said was incomprehensible, swallowed up in another yawn.

"Didn't quite catch any of that," Stanley informed Jake, rolling his eyes.  "What time is it, anyway?"

"Six-thirty," Jake sighed, checking his watch.  "Quarter to, now."

Stanley laughed, shaking his head.  "What the hell are you even doing awake?  I've never see you up this early in my life, unless you just didn't go to bed the night before."  Stanley tapped Mimi on the arm.  "In high school, I used to show up at his house twenty minutes before the first bell, and his mom would send me up to drag him outta bed," he told her, chuckling.  Stanley glanced at Jake.  "You did go to bed last night?"

Jake nodded.  "School's back in session today," he explained.  "Heather needed to be there at six-thirty, so he-oh-eh-owh-em-ha," Jake yawned yet again.

"Stop yawning!" Mimi demanded.  "You're gonna make me start."

"Sorry," Jake apologized, shaking his head.  "Haven't gotten a whole lot of sleep lately," he admitted. 

"So, Heather needed to be at school early, and you came in with her?" Stanley asked, grinning knowingly at Jake.  "Now, that's true love."

"Really only have one car right now," Jake reminded, "And, it's down to a third of a tank," he added, rubbing his eyes.  "Never thought it'd be a problem to live eight miles out of town."

"You've got two trucks," Stanley argued.  "And, what about your farm fuel tank?" he asked.

"Heather's car is better on gas than the trucks," he shrugged.  "And our tank had about seven gallons in it when I siphoned it out three days ago," Jake explained, stretching his hands above his head.  "Who knows when it was last filled," he sighed.  "Heather doesn't think it's ever been filled since she's lived there, and she's probably right.  We don't have farm equipment," he reminded.  "Gramps sold everything off after he leased out the land."

"Heather's the girl in the cast?" Mimi asked.  "From yesterday at town hall?  The one who kissed you good-bye?"

"That's her," Jake agreed, yawning.  "Sorry," he muttered automatically.  Mimi had come into the sheriff's station the day before to quiz Bill or Jimmy on the state of the world, and whether or not they had any news that wasn't presently circulating at Bailey's.  Both deputies had been out however, and it had fallen to Jake, reluctantly lending the hand he'd promised to, to tell her that there was nothing new to report.  Heather had come out of the restroom while Jake was speaking with Mimi, and she had kissed him goodbye, promising to come back for him in a few hours. "She teaches third grade."

Mary returned with cups and the promised coffee, pouring for Jake.  "You all want some?" she asked.

Stanley nodded.  "Make mine an Irish," Mimi requested.  "Oh, and Mary, do you have another deck of cards?"  She looked at Jake.  "We're playing war, if you want in."

"War?" he laughed, agreeing with a shrug.  "Why not?  I don't have anything else to do."  Jake took a sip of coffee, sighing gratefully.  "Thanks, Mary.  This is just what I needed."

"No problem," she returned, adding a shot of whiskey to Mimi's cup.  "I'll see what I can find for cards," Mary added, turning away.

"No coffee at home, huh?" Stanley observed.  He nudged Mimi with his shoulder to get her attention.  "Heather's PG," he told her, "And, she's a caffeine fiend.  Better not to tempt her."

"PG?" Mimi chuckled, rolling her eyes at Stanley.  'Who are you, my great-aunt Ruth?  The word's 'pregnant'."  She glanced at Jake.  "That is what he's saying, right?"
 
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, sipping his coffee. "I think he's trying to be discreet."  He peered around Mimi at Stanley, shaking his head.  "She's gonna kill you," he predicted.  "Heather told you she doesn't want to tell a lotta people yet."

"It's just Mimi," Stanley argued.  "She doesn't know anyone in town to tell."

"That's true," Mimi agreed, appreciating the aroma of her coffee for a second before taking a sip.  "I just know you guys, Mary, the deputies, grocery store lady," she listed.  "You know, she said you've been out of town, workin' for the CIA, for the last seven, eight months.   How's that work?" Mimi asked, eyeing Jake speculatively.

"Gracie Leigh told you I work for the CIA?" Jake laughed, throwing his head back.  "That's funny.  I'm not CIA, I swear.  That's too crazy, even for me," he assured her.  "I work for the DEA." 

"Here you go," Mary announced, dropping another deck of cards on the bar.  This set was smaller than the red and blue decks that Mimi and Stanley were using, and it had the Greyhound bus line logo on the back.  "All I could find," she told them. "Think somebody left 'em here once when their bus broke down in town for a few hours."

"Thanks," Mimi murmured, already sorting the cards that she and Stanley had been playing with into piles.  "So, Drug Enforcement," she continued.  "I take it you don't work in the division that goes after doctors for writing bad prescriptions?"

"Nah," Jake shrugged.  "I'm usually after the drug dealer, drug kingpin, drug lab."

"And, that's why you've been out of town all year?" Mimi quizzed.

"Pretty much," Jake agreed, laughing softly.  He found that he liked Mimi, and although he didn't usually talk too much about his job, he also knew that his job likely didn't exist anymore.  It didn't matter if he talked about it now, and he wasn't telling them anything that Heather hadn't already known for months.  "I was investigating US contractors in Afghanistan and Iraq who were using their legitimate supply operations as a cover to traffic drugs onto our military bases there.  Pot, amphetamines, pharmaceutical-grade narcotics, you name it.  That's not all they were involved in, either."

Stanley allowed a low whistle.  "Seriously?" he asked, "That's what you were doing over there?"

"That, and sweating," Jake shrugged.  "I drove supply trucks in a hundred and twenty degree heat so I could get in with the right people.  Got 'em too, eventually.  Not that it matters anymore," he muttered.  Jake looked at Mimi.  "You're good at your job, aren't you?"

She nodded, emitting a husky laugh.  "I'm an accountant," Mimi told Jake, "But, I've got some power."  She glanced at Stanley, meaning to remind him of his debt to the federal government.  "Plus, I do a good 'good cop', and a better 'bad cop'."

"Yeah, me too," Jake replied, chuckling along with her.

"So, three-handed war," Mimi announced.  "High card wins, of course," she declared, handing Stanley the blue deck of cards.  "If there's a tie, three cards face down, fourth card face up.  Go from there," she finished, handing the Greyhound deck to Jake.  "Ready, gentlemen?"

They all played their first cards, Stanley crowing over his early victory.  Jake won the next hand, followed by Stanley again, and then Mimi.  "So, how is it that your wife's pregnant, but you haven't been in town for the last eight months?" she asked.

"You do like to dig," Jake accused lightly, rolling his eyes.  "And, just 'cause I haven't been in Jericho, doesn't mean we haven't seen each other," he answered, taking the next trick.  "We were on vacation in Hawaii for two weeks in July," he admitted, caving in to the pressure of Mimi's concentrated gaze. 

"Anniversary trip," Stanley added, earning Mimi's glance.  "Jake always takes Heather to a beach somewhere for their anniversary.  What?" he continued, catching the somewhat annoyed look his friend shot him.  "I was best man at your wedding, I know when you got married."  Stanley picked up the cards he'd just won, and grinned at Mimi.  "Whirlwind romance," he told her.  "They met in October, got engaged in January, then married in July, just down the street here," he explained, tilting his head in the direction of the church.  "Hottest day of the year."

"Stanley, you gossip like a teenage girl," Jake complained, throwing down his next card.

"Well, yeah, if I've been drinking," Stanley agreed, grinning unrepentantly.

Mimi glanced between the two men, hiding her smile by taking another sip of her coffee.  "That's quick.  You got engaged after only three months?  Planned a wedding in less than a year?"

"Six months for planning a wedding was too long," Jake complained.  "We're at war," he informed Mimi, dealing out his four cards while she did the same.  "And, if you find someone, and you know it's right, why wait?" he shrugged, collecting his winnings. 

What Jake didn't tell Mimi was that he'd come to appreciate the part that timing had played in his relationship with Heather.  He knew himself well enough to recognize that if he'd met Heather at a different time, just a few months earlier or later, things would not have been the same between them.  He'd been in state of limbo, and very close to turning completely, perhaps irrevocably, cynical.  He'd been ready to abandon Jericho and everyone he knew.  But meeting Heather, and then his immediate and overwhelming interest in her, their connection, had stopped that.  She, on the other hand, had simply been trying to find her way in Jericho, to carve out a niche for herself in the small town.  Heather had needed a little bolstering, some reassurance, a friend, and he'd provided that.  It was true that they had clicked right from the beginning; it was also true that they had been lucky to find one another when they did.  Jake knew better than to discount any of it, and he was eternally grateful for a blown tire and his grandfather's collection of historical artifacts.

"Okay, then," Mimi acknowledged, picking up the cards she'd won.  She pondered his answer for a moment, pursing her lips.  She couldn't honestly say she'd ever been in a relationship that she'd considered completely 'right', though Mimi supposed she'd been witness to a few among her friends and family, and so she was willing to concede the possibility.  "So, how long have you two been married?"

"Four years," Jake answered, giving into another yawn.

"Wow," Mimi murmured, her wide-eyed expression betraying her surprise.  "Talk about a child bride.  I mean, seriously, she's what, twenty-three, twenty-four?"

"Twenty-seven," Jake corrected.  "And, she had a college degree and a teaching credential when we met, so I always figured that qualified her as an adult."

Mimi nodded.  "Fair enough," she agreed, shuffling her deck so they could start a new round.  "Bet she still gets carded for alcohol, though, right?"

"Not in Jericho," Jake laughed.  He shuffled his own deck once, and then set it down on the bar, ready to play. "But, yeah, everywhere else in the world."

"Ready?" Mimi inquired.  "Stanley?"

"Sure," he said, groaning as he flipped over his first card, a two.

"Starting strong, farm boy," Mimi teased, playing her own card, a jack.  "So," she continued, looking at Jake.  "How'd you propose?"  She waited while he laid his card, an eight, down on the bar.  "This is my 'good cop', by the way," Mimi informed him, grinning, as she picked up the cards she'd won.

"Yeah, I recognize the technique," Jake chuckled.  "And, I proposed on top of a water tower at seven-thirty in the morning."

"In January," Stanley reminded, collecting the next trick. 

"It was January," Jake confirmed.  "Snowed a little that morning, too."

If her expression was anything to go by, Mimi didn't believe Jake. She looked back and forth between him and Stanley, waiting for one of them to crack and give the punch line, but neither did.  "You're kidding, right?" she asked finally.

Jake shook his head 'no'.  "That's the story I've always heard," Stanley told Mimi.  "Don't remember the part about seven-thirty in the morning, though.  I think Heather's trying to re-train you," Stanley joked.  "Better watch out, Jake.  A year from now she's gonna have you up at four am with the kid."

"On a water tower," Mimi repeated, her tone one of pure disbelief.  "First thing in the morning, on a water tower," she muttered.  "Don't you people know that a marriage proposal's supposed to be romantic, not something right out of Petticoat Junction?" she argued.  "What'd you do next?  Take her to a square dance?"

"We had breakfast with my grandfather.  He made pancakes," Jake answered, chuckling at Mimi's bug-eyed expression.  "Look, nobody gets it," he told her, shrugging.  Hell, one of the reasons he'd answered her question was because he'd known she wouldn't understand.  "But it made perfect sense to us.  And, she did say 'yes'."

Mimi, still looking doubtful, played her next card.  "I just don't get this town," she grumbled softly. 

They played quietly for a few minutes, none of them talking except as required to further the game.   Finally Jake, reaching the end of his deck, picked up his discard pile and started to shuffle.  "I'm tired of war.  No one ever really wins," he complained.

Stanley examined his own diminished pile of cards.  "Me too," he sighed.

"We could play crazy eights instead," Mimi suggested.  "Or hearts?"

"I think I'm gonna head home," Stanley countered, yawning loudly.  "Probably something I should be doin'."

Mary returned with the coffee pot, shaking her head at all of them.  "You're gonna stay up all night here, and then go and try to do chores at home?" she asked.  "You've always been crazy, Stanley," she told him.  "More coffee?" she offered.

"Please," Jake declared softly, while Mimi and Stanley both nodded in agreement.  "So, Mimi, what would you be doing if you were back home in DC?" Jake asked, stretching and yawning.

Their game effectively over, Mimi had started sorting cards.  "Sleepin'!" she proclaimed, shaking her head.  "You know the hardest thing about sleepin' in this dump?" she asked, looking at Jake.

"What?" he replied, covering his mouth as he yawned yet again.

"The quiet!" Mimi pronounced, shaking her head.  "I don't know how you stand it.  It's like my brain is an echo chamber," she complained.

Jake chuckled, nodding his head understandingly.  "Takes awhile to get used to, every time I come home," he admitted.  "But, you do get used to it," he assured her. 

She watched him closely for a few seconds.  "So, you actually like living here?" she asked, waving her hand around to indicate the town outside the walls of Bailey's Tavern.

"It's as good as most other places," Jake shrugged.  "It's not the beach, but at least I know what to expect here.  My family's here - that's good and bad," he admitted, chuckling.  "I've got friends," he continued, pointing at Stanley.  "It's where Heather wants to be."

Behind them, the tavern door squeaked open, admitting Deputy Jimmy Taylor and Jake's brother, Eric.  Mimi glanced at the two men, and then turned her gaze back on Jake.  "Plus, everyone here thinks you're a hero," she added for him.

Jimmy, catching her last few words, laughed.  "I wouldn't say that," he told Mimi.

"What?" she asked, looking over at Jimmy.

"Just don't know that Jake qualifies as a hero," Jimmy clarified.  "No offense, Jake," he added, "But I could - we all could - tell you some stories."

Jake, smirking, pointed a hardly threatening finger at his friend.  "Hey, watch it, Jimmy!"

Mimi looked around at the grinning gaggle of men, and decided to play along.  "Let me guess.  The pressure's just been too much for you," she proclaimed, her tone more than a little sarcastic.

"Wow," Jake muttered, trying not to laugh.

"I'm a people reader," Mimi declared, chuckling soundlessly and reaching for her coffee cup.

Jake nodded.  "Yeah."

She studied him over the rim of her cup.  "I'm betting, captain of the football team, prom king, most likely to succeed."  Mimi looked around, taking in the even wider grins of the men standing around her.  She laughed out loud, smiling in return.  "Am I right?"

"Don't quit your day job," Jimmy advised, prompting everyone to laugh, including Mary, who had returned in time to hear Mimi's guess regarding Jake.

"Why?" Mimi asked.  "What am I missing here?"

Jake pointed at Stanley.  "He was captain of the football team," he told Mimi, who looked back over her shoulder at Stanley.

"And, I think he beat up the prom king," Stanley added, shaking his head.

Jake pretended to think about it for a moment.  "Oh, yeah.  I did," he agreed, laughing it off, though at the time it had seemed that his world was ending; the first time Emily Sullivan had dumped him, it had been for the prom king.

"Eric, you must have a million stories about your brother screwin' up, right?" Stanley asked with a knowing grin.

Eric started to smile in return, but his expression withered some under Jake's glare.  "Yeah," he agreed softly, "At least that many."  He turned to Mary then, catching her eye.  "Could we get a coupla coffees to go, Mary?" Eric requested.

Jake watched his brother follow Mary to the other side of the bar, only taking his eyes off them when Mimi tapped him on the arm with his deck of cards.

"So, not 'most likely to succeed' either, huh?" she asked.

"Nah, 'most likely to succeed' was Caleb Pritchard, I think," he told her, sighing.  "He was class president, valedictorian - gave a speech, anyway.  Graduated Jericho High, left town, never came back.  Probably dead now."

"Well, that's a cheery thought," Mimi complained grumpily.  Both Jake and Mimi were watching Mary and Eric, and while the couple probably thought they were being discreet, their hands and obvious flirting betrayed them.  Mimi caught Jake's eye.  "Secrets of a small town," she murmured into his ear.

Jake's jaw clenched on him, and he didn't bother to answer Mimi, figuring she wasn't expecting one anyway.  He looked away.  'Idiot!' he accused his brother silently.  'You stupid idiot!'  It had been years since Jake and Eric had had anything resembling a close relationship, and Jake admittedly got along better with his sister-in-law than with his brother.  He'd never really understood why April had married Eric, but he'd at least thought Eric realized how lucky he was.  And, if Eric wanted to mess up his life, Jake figured he was welcome to do so, but he didn't want to know anything about it.  Only now he did.

The building shook slightly, interrupting Jake's mental tirade against his brother.  He glanced up in time to see the lights flicker to life, and then the juke box started to blare loudly, hurting all their ears after a nearly two weeks of relative silence.  Jake slid off his stool and crossed the room, pulling the plug.  He stood up, straightening, looking around the bar, checking on each person present.  They all wore matching expressions of surprise and confusion, but were obviously okay.

The pay phone rang.  Again, Jake was the first to react, striding across the bar to pick up the receiver.  It was a recorded message, and he let it play, holding the phone so that they could all listen as the recording looped.  "This is Assistant Secretary Walsh from the Department of Homeland Security," the message droned.  "Do not be alarmed.  If you are safe, stay where you are.  Do not attempt to leave. We will be in contact again shortly.  Until then, know that help is on the way."

They listened to it three times before Jake finally hung up.  He looked at his brother.  "Jimmy and I should get to town hall," Eric suggested.  "You good?"

"Yeah," Jake nodded, watching them turn and leave.

Mary, at Jake's elbow, asked uneasily, "Homeland Security?"

"Well, that's what they said," Jake confirmed, not willing to trust anything yet.  He walked back to the bar, the others trailing after him.

Stanley resumed his seat.  "So, they're in charge now?"

"Well, they're supposed to be in charge in case of a disaster," Mimi shrugged.  She also returned to her barstool, next to Stanley.

Mary bit her lip.  "So what happens next?" she asked, looking at Mimi.

"Wh - Why you askin' her?"  Stanley demanded, shaking his head.  "She's from the IRS.  Ask Jake," he suggested.  "This is actually sorta his job," Stanley finished, glancing at his friend.

"She's from DC," Mary argued.

"And, don't ask me," Jake added, holding up his hands in an 'I'm out' gesture.  "I try hard to avoid the kinda meetings where they go over that stuff."

They all turned to look at Mimi.  "Okay," she started, taking a deep breath, "This is what they told us.  First, they restore power, then communication, then transportation," she declared, suddenly smiling.  "I am this close to non-fat lattes and shiatsu."

Jake nodded.  Everything Mimi had said, at least regarding the restoration of essential services, made sense.  "Does anybody have a quarter?" he asked, having already checked the change he had on him.  "If they can call in, maybe we can call out," he reasoned, moving toward the pay phone. 

Stanley searched his pockets, producing a quarter that he tossed to Jake.  "Who you gonna call?"

"Start with my Mom," he decided, grabbing the receiver and inserting the quarter.  "If a local call works, then I guess we try outta state."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, October 18, five years before the bombs

EJ Green watched as his grandson started to take the box Heather Lisinski was carrying away from her, his hand brushing across hers, lingering a second or two longer than necessary.  Jake offered her a smile, which she returned, coloring faintly.  They both held onto the box, their eyes locked, watching one another intently, before Heather finally let go, taking a half-step back.  Turning, Jake slid the box into place on the truck bed, and closed the tailgate.  His gaze immediately returned to Heather, where it had been, really, almost the entire three hours they had been at the school.  Not that Jake and Heather had been at all inappropriate, if only because Heather had concentrated on her professional duties, rarely turning her attention to Jake for more than a few seconds at a time.  Now though, with just the three of them present, EJ felt very much like the proverbial third wheel.

"There's not much left inside, Gramps," Jake started, finally rotating to face his grandfather.  "We should be able to handle it by ourselves," he continued, sidling into place next to Heather, their arms brushing together.  "We'll go back in to get the last few things, and then we can take off," Jake offered, taking the truck keys out of his pocket, and handing them to the older man.  "Okay?"  

"Sure," EJ nodded, accepting the key ring.  He knew when he was being dismissed.  "I'll just wait here," he agreed, stepping toward the passenger door.  "But don't hurry on my account," he instructed them, grinning.  He liked Heather, and he liked the affect she had on his grandson, but he wasn't above teasing them both, or letting them know that he knew what was up.  "I've got nothing pressing," he concluded.

Heather smiled in return, shifting on her feet self-consciously.  "Well, I have to pick my class up from music in twenty minutes, anyway.  So we won't be that long," she told him.

"Let's go," Jake said, throwing his grandfather an aggravated glance before following Heather toward the school building.  "I'm sorry," he apologized a moment later, catching up with her as she stepped onto the sidewalk that led to the front entrance.  "He -"

"He caught us kissing in the pantry last night," Heather reminded, interrupting.  She looked at Jake, trying not to laugh.  "And, neither of us was exactly thinking about stopping," she added, allowing a discomfited grin.  Heather shook her head.  "Considering that he and I were supposed to be reviewing today's presentation at the time," she sighed, "I think he's probably allowed to make fun of us a little.  Look," Heather continued, squaring her shoulders. "It's fine.  It was a little embarrassing - getting caught, I mean - but it didn't keep me from kissing you later, now did it?" she teased.

"No," he agreed, chuckling quietly.  He reached out then, laying his hand on her forearm, resisting the urge to touch her more familiarly because they were standing out in the open, in plain sight of the street and the windows of nearly half the classrooms at Jericho Elementary.  "I just don't want to - I don't want you to be embarrassed," Jake told her, frowning.  "I don't want to be the reason that you are embarrassed."

The more time he spent with Heather, the more time Jake wanted to spend with her, and he recognized that he'd never thrown himself into a new relationship with a woman in the way he was doing so with her.  After all, Jake had known Emily Sullivan most of his life, and falling for her had just been a shift in their existing relationship.  With Emily, he'd been entering reasonably known territory, or at least that's how he'd felt at fifteen.  Then after Emily, Jake had dated, but always casually, and always with something of a barrier between him and the woman he was seeing, if only because he realized now, he'd been holding out hope for some sort of reconciliation with Emily. 

But, the last year had taught him that he couldn't resurrect that past, and while he hadn't been looking for anyone, he'd certainly found someone in Heather.  He felt almost a constant compulsion to be around her.  He wanted nothing more than to be with her, to figure out how they could fit together, and so far the answer was quite well.  And so, he pursued her.

On Sunday night, after dinner with his family, Jake had driven his grandfather home to the ranch, and then turned around and headed back to Jericho, phoning Heather from the curb in front of her house to ask if he could come over.  She'd agreed, laughing sweetly at him when he'd admitted his location.  Heather had made him wait in the car for a few minutes while she'd taken care of the laundry she'd been folding.  "There are certain things I'm not quite ready for you to see, pal," she'd told Jake, still giggling.  Even over the phone, he could tell she was blushing.

That had set up their pattern for the week.  Jake would come over every evening, and they would hang out until Heather reluctantly kicked him out so she could go to bed.  That Sunday night, they had cuddled up on the couch, Jake occasionally distracting Heather from the lesson plan she was working on, but mostly he'd let her be, content to simply be with her.  He'd ended up reading the entire Sunday paper for the first time in months. 

On Monday night, he'd picked up hamburgers and fries for dinner, and they'd watched the Yankees/A's divisional play-off game on TV.  Heather, sitting beside him on the couch, had corrected math tests and rooted quietly for the Yankees, out of home state loyalty, she'd claimed. Jake had rooted for the A's, because he couldn't stand the Yankees, he'd informed her.  Heather, finishing her grading by the fifth inning, had snuggled herself up against Jake, laying her head on his chest.  The Yankees had ended up winning, and Jake had realized that he really didn't care.

Tuesday, Heather had made them grilled cheese sandwiches and heated soup, informing Jake somewhat self-consciously that this was about the extent of her culinary abilities.  Jake told her it was the best grilled cheese sandwich he'd ever had.  Heather hadn't believed that at all, but she'd obviously appreciated that he'd said it.  After dinner he'd helped her glue thirty sets of wooden blocks together in different configurations for an upcoming lesson.  Later, his hands still sticky despite washing them, he'd caught them in her hair, pulling it, when he'd kissed her good night.  They'd ended up laughing much too hard at that, and once Heather had freed her hair from between his fingers, she'd backed Jake up against her front door and kissed him much more thoroughly than she had on any previous occasion.

The prior evening, Wednesday, Jake's grandfather had invited Heather to dinner so he could explain his plans for the next day's presentation to her students.  It was the first time since the day that they'd met that Jake had had to really share Heather with anyone else, and though he'd always had an easy relationship with grandfather, he'd found himself impatient for dinner to be over, and to have Heather all to himself once again.  He had followed her back to town afterwards, both to make sure she was safe, and for the hour he'd known they would spend alone together before she sent him on his way.

"I'm not embarrassed, not really," Heather assured Jake, dragging his thoughts back to the present.  She smiled at him, laying her free hand over his for just a moment.  "To be honest, I don't know what I am right now," she admitted, "But it's all good, whatever it is that I am.  And, I'm not embarrassed, Jake," Heather repeated, clearing her throat.  "Maybe a little by my own reactions, I guess," she added, contradicting herself.  "But definitely not by you."

They were straying into territory they'd mostly avoided since Saturday night, and Jake, reassured that she wasn't upset with him, breathed a sigh of relief.  "Okay," he acknowledged.  "But, just tell me if I do something - if I'm an idiot, or a jerk, or something."

"Will do," she agreed, biting her lip absently.  Heather blinked and then smiled at him, her expression suddenly more confident.  "I really do have to pick up my kids," she reminded.  "Eighteen minutes," Heather clarified, checking her watch.

Jake nodded, motioning for her to lead the way.  "We better get going then." 

They walked into the school building side by side, not talking, not touching, but certainly looking quite companionable.  Afternoon classes were in session, and except for one sixth grader armed with a hall pass, they didn't see anyone in the hallway as they walked to Heather's classroom.  She unlocked the door, letting them both in, and then, grinning at him, relocked it once they were inside. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, chuckling.

Heather continued to smile.  "Hey, your grandfather's already decided that he knows what we're up to," she told Jake, drawing her fingertips down the length of his arm as she passed in front of him.  She took two more steps, and then sat down on the edge of the table where the last of his grandfather's materials waited to be collected.  "Wouldn't want to disappoint him," she teased.

"You mean, we've already been convicted, so we might as well commit the crime?" Jake laughed in return.  Heather, he'd figured out quickly, wasn't a natural flirt, and Jake was coming to find that he enjoyed any attempt that she made in that arena, simply because it was all so intentional, and because it was all aimed directly at him.  

"Not the terms I would have used, but yeah," she agreed, scooting back a few inches and eyeing him expectantly.  "Jake," Heather prompted softly when he didn't move toward her. 

He glanced at the bank of windows that ran the full length of the outside wall of the classroom, and then looked back at Heather.  "If you're sure."

"There's some sort of safety coating on the windows," she responded.  "Something to do with tornadoes that I really didn't want to understand when the janitor explained it to me," she admitted, flashing him a nervous smile.  "One of the effects is we can see out, but nobody can see in."

"Windows blow out in tornadoes," Jake told Heather, coming to stand in front of her so that her knees rested against his legs.  He took a deep breath.  The last thing he wanted to contemplate was Heather, stuck in a tornado.  "But, I guess you could put something on the windows to keep them from shattering.  Now, if there is a tornado," he continued, "And you're here, get into the interior of the building, the hallway," he instructed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Get down low, away from windows and doors, and cover yourself as best you can."

Heather reached for Jake's hand.  "Okay," she muttered, shaking her head at him.  "But, you know, you're supposed to be kissing me, not scaring the living bejeebers out of me about tornadoes."

Jake laughed somewhat uneasily.  "Lucky I can do both," he answered, taking a half-step back, and then pulling Heather to her feet.  "See?" he murmured, cupping her chin and pressing his mouth to hers.  Jake kissed Heather gently, lazily, mindful of the fact - even if she wasn't - that she was at work, and that an hour from now she wouldn't want anyone suspecting that she had been kissing Jake Green in her classroom while her students were getting their weekly music lesson.  Her arms tightened around him, and Jake raised his head, groaning softly.  "Are you sure you have to go to the PTA meeting tonight?" he questioned.

"I do if I'm going to take my class to the science center in Wichita," she reminded with a crooked smile.  "It's an expensive field trip.  I need some money from the PTA, and their help raising the rest."  Jake nodded, accepting her decision almost gracefully.  "You should go hang out with Stanley tonight," she suggested.  "Watch the game.  He probably misses you, seeing how you're spending all your free time with me."

"Trust me, Stanley understands completely," Jake countered, kissing her quickly.  "And, he doesn't like baseball that much," he lied.

"Well, I like baseball well enough, but it's really just something to do in the summer between hockey seasons," Heather teased, prompting an exasperated groan from Jake.  "How about," she sighed, "I call you when I'm on my way home from the PTA, and if it's not too late you can come over."

"Deal," Jake agreed.  "What's our time?" he asked, reaching around Heather to pull his grandfather's last two boxes forward.

Heather checked her watch.  "Ten minutes.  And, I need probably two of those to make it to the music room."

Jake looked in each carton, inspecting the contents before stacking one on top of the other.  "I can manage these if you just come along to open doors," he told her.

"That I can do," she agreed.

Jake nodded, but didn't reach for the two boxes.  "So, tomorrow night," he started, glancing at Heather.  "And, only if you're interested, but I thought you might be.  I was thinking that we could go stargazing," he suggested, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.  "But, only if you want to," Jake repeated.

"From your grandparents' water tower?" Heather asked, her eyes wide with enthusiasm.  She didn't wait for his confirmation.  "Jake, I've wanted to do that since about five seconds after you explained it to me.  I'd love to," she declared.

"Good," Jake responded, exhaling deeply.  "We should do it now, if we want to do it.  It's just gonna get colder, and then we'd have to wait 'til spring," he explained.  "And, I checked the weather, tomorrow night's supposed to be clear, so everything should be good."

"I can't wait," she proclaimed, grinning at him.  "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," Jake assured her.  "We've got everything else we'll need at the ranch.  Dress warmly, and come out when you get done here," he said, smiling.  Now that he was sure that he'd read her right, Jake found that he was truly looking forward to the next evening.  "We can have dinner with Gramps, if you're willing to risk it now that he's on to us," Jake teased, "And as soon as it's dark, we'll go look at the stars."

"Cool," she murmured, still grinning.  She took two steps toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "I really can't wait," Heather repeated, kissing him softly.  "And now," she continued, pulling reluctantly away, "I should probably walk you out.  The State of Kansas and its pesky rules about instructional hours," she complained jokingly.

"Nah, don't even try that," Jake told her, picking up his two boxes.  "I saw you today, you love this stuff," he argued.  "And, you're great at it."  He grinned at Heather.  "Plus, I heard what your Mrs. McVee said. She was impressed, too."  Jake had been talking to a bunch of boys about ancient arrowheads at the time, but he hadn't been able to resist eavesdropping on Heather's conversation with the principal.  Mrs. McVeigh had attended his grandfather's presentation, and all she'd had for Heather was praise.

"Yeah, I do like watching little brains whirl," Heather admitted with a chuckle.  She led him to the door and held it open for him.  "It's neat to actually see a kid learn something," she shrugged.  "And, if I didn't have you to distract me, I'd probably spend all my time thinking about learning styles and reading recovery and great, new science demonstrations, things like that," she teased.

He laughed.  "Well then, I'll have to keep distracting you, just not now."  Jake waited while Heather locked her classroom door.  "There's something else," he said, sighing.  "I got a phone call this morning, and I have to go back to Denver for a few days, starting Sunday night," he told her as they walked down the hall toward the school's front entrance. 

"Well, yuck," Heather complained.

"Exactly," Jake grumbled in agreement.  "But I have to go," he shrugged, "No way around it.  I'm gonna leave after Sunday dinner with my family, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?" he asked hesitantly.  "To dinner, not Denver," Jake clarified unnecessarily, a moment later.  "You don't have to decide now, but just think about it."

They had reached the school entrance, and Heather backed into the door, pushing it open and holding it for Jake.  "You want me to have dinner with your family on Sunday night?" she repeated as he brushed past her, exiting the building.  "That's - wow."

Jake hadn't been sure that he should invite her to dinner, and now he knew it was a bad idea.  "I shouldn't have said -"

"No, it's okay," Heather interrupted.  She let the door fall closed behind her, joining Jake in the small courtyard in front of the school.  She faced him, her expression conflicted.  "I'm a little surprised, that's all.  I'd think I should be more - I've only known you a week," she reminded, though Jake got the distinct impression that Heather was talking to herself as much as she was talking to him.  She bit her lip, and for some reason seemed to be trying not to smile.  "I think I might wanna go," Heather informed Jake.

"Well, you already know Gramps, and you've met my parents.  My mother, I'm sure, would like to get to know you better." Jake didn't tell Heather that he was also certain his mother had been running around Jericho all week, trying to see what she could learn about Heather Lisinski.  "That just leaves Eric and April, and they're harmless," he assured her.

"If you think it's all right," Heather replied, still worrying her lip, "That your Mom won't mind, then I think I will come."  She grinned at Jake, and then checked her watch.  "I really have to go," she groaned, stepping forward to quickly kiss him on the cheek.

"Call me tonight," Jake reminded her, catching her hand with his, and managing, somehow, to keep from dropping his grandfather's boxes.

"I will," she agreed, squeezing his hand.  Their gazes locked, her eyes sparkling softly.  "I'll see you later," she promised him, and then she slipped from his grasp, re-entering the school building.  The door closed behind her, and Jake watched through the window as she took off, almost running, for the other end of the school, where her class waited for her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

Jake tried eight or nine times to place his phone call, but the lines were overloaded, and eventually the payphone kept the quarter Stanley had given him.  He ambled back to where Stanley and Mimi were sitting, and clapped his friend on the shoulder.  "Not workin'," he told them.  "Think I better go see what's goin' on at town hall."

Stanley nodded, holding out his hand to Jake.  "Catch you later, man," he said as they shook.

"What d' I owe you for the coffee?" Jake asked Mary, catching her eye.

"On the house," she called back.  "Just let me know if you hear any real news," Mary requested.

He raised his hand in acknowledgment, and then headed for the door.  Outside, Jake found that the downtown district had come alive.  There were people everywhere, talking nervously and trying to use their cell phones to no avail.  He waved at a few people whom he knew, but didn't bother to stop and chat.  At town hall, he bypassed the sheriff's station, mounting the stairs, heading directly for his father's office. 

"Hey, Dad," he greeted, entering the room.  Jake glanced to right.  Bill was fiddling with the television set, but wasn't coming up with anything more than the Emergency Alert System message.  "It's the same thing on every channel?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"So far," Eric confirmed.  Jake looked to his left, exchanging nods with his brother.  "What about the radio?"

"Same message," Johnston grumbled, slumping slightly in his chair.  "Sit and wait."  He studied his son's profile for a moment.  "You look like crap," he informed him.

Jake glanced back at his father, stiffening under the other man's censure.  "Haven't been sleeping much," he admitted.

"Hard to get a good night's rest if you're playin' cards in the bar before seven in the mornin'," Johnston observed with a hard stare.

Eric's somewhat defiant expression betrayed him immediately, and although Jake glared at his brother, he decided it wasn't worth calling him out.  It also wasn't worth correcting his father's mistaken impression, as much it annoyed him.  Jake, feeling more than a little obstinate, didn't think he should need to point out that all he'd had to drink was coffee, and all he'd been playing was war.  Exhausted as he was, Jake couldn't sleep right now, not for very long, anyway.  While he fell asleep every night, he always woke up after an hour or so, and then spent the rest of the night awake, plagued by his own thoughts, watching Heather sleep next to him, as he tried to not disturb her.  But if his father wanted to believe that his problem was hanging out at Bailey's early in the morning, well, Jake wasn't going to disabuse him of that notion.

"Sooner or later, the phones are gonna free up," Johnston declared, apparently having decided that he'd given Jake enough to think about.  "Let's keep callin' out 'til we reach somebody."

"Calling who?" Bill asked, changing the channel only to find the same Emergency Alert message.

Johnston shrugged.  "The Homeland Security message came out of Topeka," he reminded.  "Let's start there."

"Yeah, but everybody's thinking that," Eric argued, leaning over his father's desk.  "I say we start with the National Guard base in Great Bend."

"That's a good idea, Son," Johnston acknowledged, turning in his chair. 

Jake looked away for a moment, not quite able to resist the urge to roll his eyes.  "We should get to the gas station, get some gas while -"

"I already sent Jimmy," Eric interrupted, straightening.  "He's there now, running the pumps."

"We need to charge our batteries," Jake offered next, only to have Eric point to the corner table where no less than ten cell phones were being charged.

Jake laughed soundlessly at himself.  Eric, like always, was turning this into a competition, trying to prove that he was the better son.  He'd won this round, that was obvious, and Jake decided that it was easier to allow Eric his victory than to keep trying to stay in the race.

"All right," Jake conceded, turning to leave.  "It looks like you got it covered."

"Where you goin'?" Johnston demanded, starting to climb up out of his seat.

Jake looked back over his shoulder, meeting his father's eye.  "You don't need me," he told him, shrugging.  "Besides, I have things I could be doing."

* * * * *

Leaving town hall, Jake walked the four blocks to Jericho Elementary, and upon arriving, headed for the office to check in.  Mrs. Crenshaw, the school secretary and a Jericho institution, was glad, as always, to see him.  "Good morning, Jake," she greeted warmly, coming around the counter to give him a hug. 

Mrs. Crenshaw had held her post for nearly thirty-five years, and had always had a soft spot in her heart for Jake Green.  He'd waited for his turn to see the principal, sitting in the chair next to her desk, a fair number of times during his elementary school career, and he had always talked to her.  He was one of the only kids she could recall  who would admit when he was wrong, and he'd usually had a pretty good argument for those times when he'd believed he was right.  Mrs. Crenshaw had been relieved when the truth of his involvement with Jonah Prowse had come out, and happy for both Jake and that nice Miss Lisinski when they'd announced their engagement.  Some of the teachers had been begrudging in their congratulations, but Mrs. Crenshaw had told Miss Lisinski that she was a lucky woman.  So far, everything had seemed to prove her right.

"How can I help you?" she asked, patting him on the arm.  "Do you know anything more about what's going on with the power and the phones?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Crenshaw," Jake answered.  "I was just at town hall, but my Dad hasn't been able to get any more information yet, either," he shrugged.  "I need to talk to Heather for a minute," he continued.  "Is it all right if I -?"

"Go, go!" Mrs. Crenshaw said, waving him out of the office.  "You don't even need to ask," she assured him.  "You know the way."

"Thanks, Mrs. Crenshaw," he grinned.  "And, I'm around," Jake reminded, tapping two fingers on the countertop, "So, if I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"Thank you, Jake," she smiled in return.  "You go take care of Heather now."

Less than a minute later, Jake was standing in front of his wife's classroom door.  He knocked, but given the noise level inside, he doubted that he'd been heard.  Opening the door, Jake ducked inside to find one of Heather's 'organized chaos' lessons in progress.  The desks were all pushed off to the sides, and what looked like a rather odd relay race was being run down the middle of the room.  Heather was supervising it all.

"Hi, Mr. Green," whispered Julie, the girl who had come looking for help the night of the bombs.  She was standing at the end of her team's line, a few feet from Jake.

"Hi, Julie," Jake whispered in return, smiling at her.  He stepped closer, leaning down to ask, "What is this?"

"Math and spelling relay," she answered, still speaking softly.  The boy at the front of her line drew a card out of a basket and groaned.  He dropped to the ground and started to crab-walk to the other end of the room.

"Hey," Heather said, moving carefully around the race in progress, coming to stand next to Jake.  "What are you doing here?"

"What in the world are they doing?" he inquired, ignoring her question.  A girl on the other team started to hop across the classroom on one foot, while the crab-walking boy reached the desk at the other end and sat down.

Heather pulled him away from the two lines of kids, and over to her desk.  "Relay race," she explained, shrugging.  "None of them are really ready to go back to school as usual, so they're doing a math problem at one end, spelling a word at the other, and doing different locomotion in between.  Just something I threw together."

"No wonder state officials think you're subversive," Jake grinned at her.  "And, how come I never had a teacher like you?"

She laughed at him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.  "Apparently you were very unlucky as a child," Heather told him.  "But at least you have me now," she teased.  "Are you here -"

Whatever Heather had been going to say was cut off by a loud crash, followed by one of the girls wailing, "Mrs. Green, Matthew fell over doing sidewinders!"

"Excuse me," Heather sighed, stepping around Jake.  "Timeout!" she called, holding her hands up in a 'T' and moving through the crowd of kids gathered around the unfortunate Matthew.  "Are you okay, Matt?" she asked offering him her hand to help him up.

"Yeah," Matthew conceded, shrugging.  "I was hurrying and I fell."

Heather nodded.  "That happens.  Do you want to keep playing?" she asked, looking around at all of the kids. 

"Uh-huh," Matthew murmured, and then the other children answered that they wanted to keep playing, too.  Heather stepped out of the way, declaring the timeout over.  The race resumed.

"Power's on," Jake told Heather when she returned to where he was standing.  "So the gas pumps are working again," he reminded.  "I came to get your car keys."

She grinned at him.  "You're the best husband ever," Heather declared, turning to pull her purse from the bottom desk drawer. 

"We both know that's not true," Jake snorted.  "But, there's gonna be a line, so I might as well go wait in it."

"Well, thank you for that," she responded, handing over her keys.  "Do you have any way to pay for gas?"

"I've got some cash," he answered.  Jake had gotten into the safe at the ranch twice since he'd come home, but both times were to retrieve firearms, and he hadn't bothered to pull out his bank cards, half of which had probably expired.  "It should be fine."

"Do you want my ATM card?" Heather offered.  "Might be a good idea to hold onto the cash."

"Okay."

Heather dug her wallet out of her purse, and then found her debit card.  She handed it to him.  "My PIN's five-two-five-three," she told him.

"I'm your PIN?" Jake asked, smirking.

She shook her head, giggling softly at herself.  "You weren't supposed to notice that."

"I've looked at a phone keypad more than once in my life," he returned, chuckling.  "And, you're supposed to pick something's that hard to guess," Jake chided.

"Someone would have to know us both in order to guess that," Heather argued.

"Mrs. Green," called out Lucas, the boy from the bus that night, Jake identified, looking over the crowd of students who were all now watching them.  "We're all done."

Heather turned her attention back to her class.  "Good!" she declared, smiling brightly.  "Which team won?"

"Red Team!" the apparent Red Team shouted back, almost in unison. 

The kids on the other team looked a little dejected, but Heather turned her smile on them.  "Hey, it was anybody's race," she told them.  "The Blue Team did fine.  Now," she continued, "Can somebody collect up all the papers for me?  And, the rest of you, please move your desks back where they belong."

The kids got right to work, the noise level deafening as they dragged their desks across the floor, and back into place.  Heather looked at Jake.  "So that'll take about ninety seconds."

"I better go anyway," he responded.  "Line's probably pretty long."

"Okay," she agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth.  "Thanks."  Behind them, they heard giggles and a few disgusted declarations of 'Ew!'    Heather laughed softly, leaning her head against Jake's shoulder for a second.  "They're eight," she reminded a moment later, throwing him a wry smile.

"That they are," Jake nodded, winking at her.  There was another crashing sound, and they turned to see that two boys had collided, pushing their desks into place.  "Bumper desks," Jake muttered, chuckling softly.  "I'm gonna go," he told her, squeezing her hand before heading for the door.

Taking a deep breath, Heather walked forward, re-entering the fray.  "Okay, boys.  Let's try this again."

* * * * *

It had taken Jake less than an hour to get through the gas line, mainly because Jimmy was doing a good job of running it, enforcing a strict ten gallon limit at four dollars a gallon, cash only.  The price was steep, more than a third higher than anyone in Jericho had been paying the two weeks before, but Jake could see the wisdom in the decision.  When the gas ran out at Murthy's, they'd end up paying a lot more than that for gas, and probably not in cash.

He drove to his parents' house, letting himself in by the front door.  Jericho had never been a place where anyone bothered to lock their doors, and the recent spate of burglaries was apparently not enough to induce his mother to start.  She was vacuuming, and Jake couldn't help but laugh to himself at that.  Of course his mother would vacuum as soon as the power came back on for the first time in two weeks.  Gail Green was a former nurse who believed that cleanliness really was next to godliness, a neatnik, and a hater of carpet lint.

"Hey," he called out, grinning and waving to get her attention. 

"Jake!" Gail greeted, turning off the vacuum cleaner, and crossing the entry to give him a hug.  "What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

He shrugged.  "Thought I'd come by and see if there's anything I could do for you."

"Everything's under control here," she assured him.  "I may go out to the ranch later, check the horses."

"Tony and Eddie have practically moved into the hospital barn, Mom," Jake told her.  "They've got it covered."

"Well, we'll see," she sighed.  "It is my business after all," Gail reminded, starting to wind up the vacuum's power cord.  Jake stepped to his mother's side and assumed the job from her.  "I'm sure your father could use your help today."

"No."  Jake's rejection of her suggestion was emphatic.  "I'm sorry, Mom, but trust me, that's not happenin', not today."

Gail knew her son, and she knew that when he got like this, there was no reasoning with him.  She decided to try another subject.  "So," she sighed, watching Jake as he returned the vacuum cleaner to the hall closet, "What happens now?"

Jake walked back into the living room.  "Now?" he asked, his expression puzzled. 

"You know," she explained, pointing at the Emergency Alert message on the TV, "When we find out what's going on.  What do you do then?"

"When I came home I was already plannin' to take a couple months off," he told her, moving to the front window.  "Seven months overseas, I earned it," Jake sighed.  He peered through the shutters, checking the street in front of the house, and then seated himself on the window seat.  "Everything that's happened, I'm not going back.  I probably don't have a job to go back to, even if I wanted to.  And, it was never the plan to do that forever."

Gail nodded, more than relieved.  "There's a plan?" she inquired, kneeling on the couch, facing Jake over the back.

"Always has been," he replied, chuckling softly.  "Heather's bad influence on me."

"Heather's a good influence on you," Gail smiled, contradicting him.  "What was the plan?"

"Just when we had kids," Jake explained, shrugging, "That I find something else to do with myself, something where I'm home.  We made that deal a long time ago."

"Smart girl, our Heather," Gail murmured, allowing a pleased sigh.  "To get you to agree to that deal, way back when."

"Yeah, well," Jake shook his head, "I was gonna do it anyway.  After Jonah's trial, I was ready to quit - I almost did.  I was gonna go back to flying, be home more than I wasn't."  Jake paused, exhaling deeply.  The sudden tension in his frame was obvious, his jaw almost twitching as he clenched it.  "You know," he complained, looking at his mother, "I never know what he wants me to do."

There was no need to ask who 'he' was, but Gail still didn't understand completely what Jake was trying to say.  "What do you mean?" she asked.  "What happened? Why didn't you -"

 "I figured he'd think I was a quitter!" Jake practically barked, frustrated.  Gail watched as he climbed back to his feet and began to pace slowly, back and forth behind the sofa.  "Not like I can ever do anything right, far as he's concerned.   But, at least - at least he couldn't say that about me."

"He didn't want you to go back," Gail informed him softly.  "Not when it took you away so much, especially after you married Heather."

Jake pressed his lips together, and his mother could almost see him swallow the angry retort he'd been about to make.  "Then why didn't he tell me that?" Jake demanded finally. He sighed.  "Why didn't he talk to me?"

Gail waited until Jake looked at her, meeting her eye, before she answered.  "Because he knew you'd resent it," she told him sadly.  Jake scowled and looked away, but Gail could see that he was still listening.  "There's a stubborn streak that runs in the family," she murmured, "And, honey, you both have it in spades."  She waited a second, and then continued.  "One of you is gonna have to give in, start talking first."

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, but finally Jake glanced at his mother again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "And, you think it should be me," he said.

"I think maybe you owe him that much."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Different Circumstances: Part 5B of ?
by Marzee Doats

Author's Note & Acknowledgment: Last time I was obsessed with gasoline supplies on Jericho. Now I'm obsessed with how they're going to get shoes when the ones they have run out, but I at least didn't put that in this section! Jake quotes a line from the song "Modern Woman" from the Billy Joel album The Bridge. These are the dangers of writing with your iPod on shuffle.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs

"It looks like we're going camping," Heather observed, shining her flashlight over the water tower's small observation deck.  When she'd arrived at the Green Ranch, Jake had told her that he'd already taken up most of what they'd need for their evening, but she certainly hadn't envisioned all this.  He had obviously gone to a lot of work.  There were two folding camp chairs, sleeping bags, a pile of blankets, three lanterns, a boom box-style radio, and a small telescope, already set up.  Heather looked back over her shoulder, smiling.  "You thought of everything," she complimented.  "Were you a Boy Scout?"

"Never was a Boy Scout," Jake laughed in return.  He lowered his backpack to the deck, and then helped Heather take hers off.  "But Gramps and my Dad were both Army Rangers, so certain things have been drilled in."

"Ah, the grown up version of the Boy Scouts," she teased, turning to press herself against Jake, kissing him softly.  "Well, thank you," Heather murmured, holding his gaze with her own. "This is amazing."

"You're welcome," he answered, offering her a pleased grin.  Jake carried their packs to the built-in bench, propping hers against the side of the tower and then opening his own.  He pulled out two thermoses and set them on the bench.  "Red's coffee, blue's hot chocolate," he explained unnecessarily.  He'd refused her offer of help as he'd prepared the drinks to bring with them, but she'd stayed in the kitchen with him while he'd worked.  "Though think about it before you have any," Jake advised.  "The one thing we don't have is a toilet.  For that we have to walk back to the house, or at least to the hospital barn."

"Thanks for the reminder," she chuckled.  "I don't think I'm climbing back up here tonight if I have to climb down to go to the bathroom."

Heather was a city girl, born and raised, and while she was enjoying the experience of living in Jericho and was even coming to love it in Kansas, it still had never occurred to her that the walk from the ranch house to the water tower would be pitch dark except for the flashlight Jake had handed her as they'd walked out the door.  When they'd reached the water tower she'd looked up into the darkness and had suffered a moment of panic.  There had been no disguising it from Jake, and while he'd teased Heather gently, saying he couldn't believe that she was afraid of the dark, he'd also made it clear that if she wanted to turn around and go back, that was fine with him.  "But, I'll be right behind you climbing up," he'd promised, "I won't let anything happen."

That had been all she needed.  Heather, standing there in the dark, watching him by the dim beam of her flashlight, realized that she trusted Jake Green to keep her safe.  So, she'd told him that the only things she was afraid of these days were tornadoes, and by the way, he was completely to blame for that.  Jake had laughed, acknowledging his culpability without apologizing, and then he'd kissed her.  Finally, Heather had walked to the ladder on the side of the water tower, and prepared herself for the climb.  Jake had followed her up closely, ensuring her safety.

"And, I have dessert," Heather said, joining Jake at the bench and opening her own backpack.  She pulled out the sealed plastic bag of cookies that his grandfather had presented her with following dinner, and set it on the bench.  Next, she pulled out a folded and laminated chart of the solar system and constellations which Jake had already spied earlier when they had packed up for the evening.  "What can I say?" she grinned sheepishly.  I'm a teacher and a wannabe mad scientist."

Jake leaned over, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth.  "Are you saying you studied for our date?" he breathed against her skin, barely whispering.

"Maybe," she admitted, giggling.  Heather moved her head, deliberately bringing her mouth into full contact with Jake's.  The star chart dropped, momentarily forgotten, from her grasp as he pulled her into his embrace while she cupped the back of Jake's head with both hands.  "Maybe I did," she repeated, opening her mouth slightly to him.

"So, Miss Mad Scientist," Jake said when they finally pulled away from one another, "I'm guessing you're about dying to get to that telescope."

Heather grinned.  "Well, you know," she shrugged.

"Go ahead," Jake told her.  "I think my ego can take it.  For a little while, anyway."

"We can share," Heather offered, tugging on his hand.

Jake shook his head.  "Gimme a minute," he requested, pointing her toward the telescope.

Heather retrieved her astronomical chart from the deck and flashlight from the bench.  Throwing Jake one more delighted smile, she took the three steps to the telescope, and began to examine it.  Jake watched her as she looked up at the night sky, and then unfolded her chart, examining it by the light of her flashlight, before looking up at the sky again.  He could tell that Heather was already absorbed in what she was doing, and probably would be for awhile.

Chuckling soundlessly, Jake grabbed two of the lanterns he'd brought up earlier in the day, and lit them, setting them so that they burned low, giving off just enough light to allow them to move around safely.  Silently, he placed one on the deck next to the telescope for Heather, earning him another slightly distracted smile, and then carried the other one back to the bench where he turned on the radio.  He tuned it to a station they had already managed to agree on earlier in the week, as their tastes in music overlapped somewhat though nowhere near completely.  Jake adjusted the volume so they could hear without being distracted by it, and sat back to watch Heather in her element.   

"Do you want a turn?" she asked a few minutes later, looking up to catch him staring at her.  "I've got Mars," Heather added, grinning.  "That's an easy one to find.  Tried to look at the moon, but it started to give me a headache."

Standing, Jake nodded.  "Yeah, it's a powerful telescope for its size."  He moved to Heather's side, and she stepped out of the way, encouraging him to look through the eyepiece.  "Not bad," he murmured, taking in the sight of their neighboring planet.  "That's as good of a view as I've ever seen," he told her.

"I'm gonna try to find Alpha Centauri," Heather decided, flashing a quick smile at Jake.  "When you're through."

He laughed, enjoying her enthusiasm.  "Have at it," he encouraged, stepping sideways.  "Find your star."  She slid past him, grinning at Jake when he caught her hand in his own, and then kissed her knuckles before letting her continue.

Heather went back to work, consulting her chart, and then adjusting the telescope.  Jake pulled one of the camp chairs closer and sat down.  After a few minutes, she had found her star, and she invited Jake to take a look.  That's how it went for the next half hour.  Heather soon gave up on stars, returning to their own solar system, trying to find each of the planets, and when she had something in view she'd make Jake take his turn.  Jake took each opportunity to touch or kiss her, and Heather soon found her interest in the heavens to be waning as he waged his campaign of distraction.

Finally, still smiling, she folded her chart up and returned it to her backpack.  Then, she moved to Jake's chair, where she settled herself sideways in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Giving up?" Jake asked a moment later, exhaling deeply, his forehead pressed against hers. 

"Just for now," Heather answered, shaking her head.  "I can get lost in the details, so now I figure, take a step back, look up," she suggested, doing just that.  "Take everything in."

He nodded his agreement, and taking advantage of the fact that her neck was elongated as she watched the sky, pressed his lips against a spot just below her earlobe, eliciting a giggly groan from Heather.  "Beautiful," Jake murmured, finally looking up at the expanse of night sky and twinkling stars above them.

They remained that way for a minute or so, both watching the sky above them, content to be together.  Eventually, Heather glanced at Jake, inquiring softly, "Whatcha thinking?"

"'Maybe she's an intellectual,'" he teased in return, quoting a song he'd heard earlier in the week at Heather's.  "'What if she figures out you're not very smart?'"

"What if she's figured out that 'not very smart' is just an act?" she whispered against his mouth.  "What if she knows you're smart in a lotta ways she's not," Heather sighed, resting her head on Jake's shoulder.  "Plus," she laughed, "I don't think you get to quote Billy Joel at me after you made fun of me."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Jake countered.  "I was making fun of all the CDs in your collection that are of albums significantly older than you."

"Uh-uh," Heather argued, shaking her head, her breath tickling the hairs on Jake's neck.  "I checked that one.  It came out when I was seven."

"Oh, well, in that case," Jake joked, "I take back everything I said."  He waited a few seconds, and then, nuzzling her ear, told Heather, "You know, the best way to do this, to see the whole sky and contemplate your place in the universe, is to throw the sleeping bags down on the deck for padding, lay down, and look up."  What he didn't tell her was that, as much as he literally craved having her near and enjoyed holding her in his arms, he was pretty sure that if she stayed in his lap much longer it was going to lead to a continuation of the awkward conversation they'd had on Saturday night.  Jake had done a lot of planning for this evening, but he hadn't planned on that.

"Okay," Heather agreed, shifting so she could stand up.  "Though," she continued, looking over her shoulder at him, and smiling, "As far as my place in the universe goes, on top of a water tower in west Kansas with Jake Green, that's about perfect." 

Jake, already on his feet, couldn't help but smile in return, and he played with her hair for just a moment before giving into the urge to kiss her.  "On a water tower in Kansas with Heather Lisinski is perfect," he assured her, his voice so soft and low that it sent tingles up her spine.

It wasn't freezing but the evening was cool, and though they'd dressed warmly and were still both zipped up in their jackets, they decided that they wanted their coffee. Heather went to work on preparing their snack, while Jake moved the chairs out of the way and unrolled the two sleeping bags, laying them out in the center of the deck.  He placed a folded blanket on each as a pillow, and left the rest within easy reach.  Heather, smiling, handed him a plastic mug of coffee and a couple of peanut butter cookies, and then sat down, Indian-style, on one of the sleeping bags.

Chuckling, Jake seated himself next to her, his legs sticking out in front of him.  "I'm not even trying that," he told her. 

"Yeah, well, most people don't have to sit this way past the fourth grade," she acknowledged, taking a bite of her own cookie.  "I, however, have honed and maintained my skills through years and years of volunteer work and summer camp," Heather joked.

"Impressive," Jake said, winking.

They finished their dessert, and Jake took Heather's mug from her, placing both on the deck and out of their way.  He laid back on one of the sleeping bags, his head pillowed on the blanket he'd set out.  It didn't surprise him when Heather ignored her blanket, and instead settled against him, her head on his chest.  Jake wrapped one arm around her, his hand on her waist.

"Okay, there's the Big Dipper," Heather murmured next to Jake's ear, "And, this has gotta be the first time in my life I can actually see all of Ursa Major.  I finally get how they can say that's a bear."

"It helps to have it dark, no ambient light," Jake answered.  "Okay," he continued, pointing, "Look up, above Big Bear, there's Little Bear, or the Little Dipper, whichever you prefer."

"Got it," Heather acknowledged.  "Still looks like a spoon, not a bear."

"I've never been able to see half of what you're supposed to see in constellations," Jake agreed, laughing.  "The Dragon's supposed to be there somewhere, but I can't see it.  Could be the wrong time of year."

They fell quiet for a moment, both studying the sky, looking for constellations.  "I think that's Pegasus," Heather suggested about a minute later, shifting against Jake and raising her head.  She looked down at him, her smile uncertain.  "Right?" she asked.  "Kind of a side view, no head, just legs, and a box for wings?"

She pointed out the box to Jake, and he confirmed her find.  "That's it.  I always forget that one's sideways."

They continued along like that for awhile, each finding a few more constellations. This was the part Jake remembered best from his childhood, and he had no trouble keeping up with Heather.  Eventually, they ran out of constellations that they knew, and Heather, who could have retrieved her astronomy chart, decided that it wasn't worth the effort.  Yawning, she pressed herself a little closer to Jake.  "This is fun.  Thanks," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he answered, stroking her side lightly with his hand.  Heather shivered against him.  "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

Jake forced her to sit up then.  He retrieved two of the blankets he'd set off to the side, shaking one out, and then wrapping it around her shoulders.  The other he dropped over his own legs.  "Better?" he inquired.  Heather smiled, nodding yes, and Jake again couldn't resist the urge to kiss her.

He didn't know how it all happened, not really, but before he could think about - after all, he was hardly interested in thinking - Jake found himself on top of Heather, both their jackets unzipped, his tossed away completely, her shirt hiked up, exposing her stomach.  He kissed her thoroughly, exploring her mouth, drinking Heather in.  His hands roamed up her sides, beneath her shirt, tantalized by the warm, soft skin he found there, so different from his own work-roughened hands.  Heather moaned into his mouth, and Jake realized suddenly, finally, and most reluctantly, that things were getting out of hand. 

Breathing hard, Jake pulled away, sitting back on his heels.  "I'm sorry," he muttered hoarsely, studying Heather closely in the dim light thrown off by the lantern that sat a few feet away. 

"It's okay," she told him, the slightest hint of hysteria coloring her giggle.  Heather propped herself up on her elbows, facing Jake, her eyes wide.  "I'm - I'm not cold now," she assured him even as a tremor ran through her body.  She pulled her shirt back down into place.

Jake inched away, falling into a seat onto the other sleeping bag.  "I'm not trying - I don't mean to push you," he told Heather, exhaling deeply. 

"Trust me, I'm not feeling pushed," Heather replied, shaking her head and fighting a smile.  "It takes two to tango, right?" she offered, chuckling softly.  "But, thank you for ..."  She shrugged, not bothering to finish her sentence.

"Sure," he nodded.  "Yeah."  They watched one another for a long moment, both needing to sort out their thoughts.  Finally, Jake started, "So, speaking of places in the universe -"

"Were we?" Heather interrupted, laughing.  "Sounds vaguely familiar."

""Right," Jake acknowledged, coughing.  "Anyway, you did say you'd tell me how you ended up in Jericho," he reminded.  "On our next date."

Heather's expression turned somewhat self-conscious, and she groaned quietly, closing her eyes.  "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that," she admitted, sighing. 

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's only fair, really," she argued.  "You told me.  It's just kinda embarrassing," Heather said, looking away.

"Are you married, dying, or wanted by the FBI?" Jake countered.  "That's our criteria, right?" he teased lightly.  "If it's not one of those, how bad could it be?  Besides," he reminded, "Whatever the reason, I'm all for it.  You're here."

Heather giggled, charmed by his declaration.  The truth was, she was charmed by almost everything Jake Green said or did, including putting the breaks on their passion when she couldn't.  She took a deep breath, and faced him across the few feet that now separated him.  "The reason I moved to Jericho - the reason I left home, when it was always my plan to stay there," Heather explained, "Is that I received a completely unexpected, absolutely unwanted marriage proposal."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs
 
"Where the hell did you go?" a glowering Stanley Richmond demanded, confronting Jake as he climbed out of Stanley's truck.  "I went into the alley, turned around, and you were gone."
 
Jake shook his head, his expression grim.  "Everything was under control here, you didn't need my help," he argued.   "I was trying to do something to save April's and Eric's house," Jake grumbled, frowning.   "Sorry I took off with your truck."
 
"Who cares about the truck?" Stanley replied, exasperated.  "I've been looking for you for the last twenty minutes.   It's Heather."
 
"What about Heather?" Jake asked.  "I just drove by the school.  Everything's fine, there.   No fires.  The kids were at recess."
 
"Not her kids," Stanley answered.  "Look," he said, pointing to a knot of children being led down the sidewalk by Mrs. McVeigh, the elementary school principal.  
 
Jake recognized the kids from Heather's class.  "What the hell?" he demanded, his throat tightening with a sudden sense of panic.   If Heather's class was with the principal, then something must have happened.   "What's going on?" Jake questioned, his voice rough.
 
"Heather was here, with her class, when the fire started," Stanley explained quickly.  He reached through the open window of the truck, and pulled the keys from the ignition.   Stanley Richmond was a generous enough guy, always willing to help out, but he figured he didn't need his truck disappearing on him again today.   He turned to face his best friend, not really wanting to deliver this particular piece of news.   "One of her students was in the library."   He hesitated a second, then added, "Heather went in to get her."
 
"What?  Where?"
 
Stanley pointed at the emergency vehicles circled like wagons in the street in front of the library.  "Through there.   April's with her."
 
Jake took off in a dead run, dodging fire fighters and volunteers working to salvage what was left of the library's holdings.  Stanley followed behind, jogging, losing sight of his friend as the other man went around a fire truck.   When he caught up, Jake was with Heather and April, demanding to know what was happening.
 
"Calm down, Jake," April ordered, glaring up at her brother-in-law.  Heather was perched on the bumper of a fire department vehicle, and April was kneeling next to her examining her cast.   "Everything's under control," she assured him.  "And, you," April decided, addressing Heather, "Somehow managed to keep your cast from getting wet.  So at least I don't have to put a new one on."
 
"Good," Heather agreed, croaking.  She started to cough, holding her hand to chest, obviously trying to catch her breath.   April stood up, and then handed her an oxygen mask, which she accepted without complaint.
 
Jake cupped Heather's head, running his hand through her wet hair.  "Babe, God," he swore, stooping next to her.   He kissed her on the forehead, and then looked at April.   "Everything's really okay?  What about -"
 
"I don't recommend smoke inhalation to anyone," April shrugged, "Least of all pregnant women, but Eric got them out quickly, and the sprinklers came on, so I don't think either of them got too much.   It could've been a lot worse."
 
"Jake got the pump station working," Stanley told April and Heather.  "For the sprinklers and the hydrants."
 
April nodded.  "Good going.  It helped get them out.  Heather's okay, Jake," she declared, glancing his way.  "She'll have a sore throat for a coupla days, so you know she's gonna be crabby," April smiled, throwing Heather a knowing look.   Both Jake and April were well aware that Heather was about the worst patient possible, and nothing bothered her more than a sore throat or cold. 
 
"There are blood tests I should be running, just to be safe, but we only have two part-time lab techs, neither of whom has shown up for work in four days," April complained.   "And, half the tests can't even be performed in Jericho. We send 'em out to bigger, better equipped labs."  She held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness, her lips pressed tightly together in frustration.   "For now, we watch her and hope for the best."  She looked back down at Heather.  "So, you can let Jake take care of you at home, or I can admit you to the clinic."
 
"Home," Heather insisted, holding the oxygen mask away from her mouth.  She offered Jake a reassuring smile, then reached for his hand, squeezing it.   "I'm fine, I promise.  I don't want to go to the clinic," she told them, her voice husky, "And, I'm not crabby," she finished, frowning at April.
 
"So, what am I watching for?" Jake asked, still stroking Heather's head absently. 
 
"Shortness of breath, other breathing changes," April listed, gently forcing Heather to resume use of the oxygen mask.  "Skin color changes, dark red or blue would mean her blood isn't pumping enough oxygen.   Gray or black saliva, so make her spit for you every once in awhile," she suggested with a wry smile.  "I'm not that concerned about the amount of smoke she inhaled.   Any is too much, but I just don't think she got all that much, thankfully. The problem is, who knows what chemicals were in the walls and carpet," April said, looking back over her shoulder at the burned out library.   "It's those toxins I'm worried about."
 
The implications of April's words hit them all about the same time.  Heather gasped, closing her eyes, and then coughed as she got too much oxygen in one gulp.   Jake's expression turned stony, his jaw clenched, and though he exhaled deeply, he didn't yet give voice to what he was thinking.  Only Stanley, frowning, spoke, summing up all of their opinions.   "Well, crap."
 
Heather felt Jake shudder through the hand he still had on her head.  She looked up at him, recognizing the apprehension in his expression.  "Guess I kinda broke our deal, huh?" she asked, her words barely intelligible through the oxygen mask.
 
"What - why - what were you thinking?" he demanded, not yelling, though the question still seemed to explode out of him.  He dropped his hand from the back of her head, clenching it into a fist that he ground against his thigh.   "Of all the stupid -"
 
"I was doing my job, Jake," Heather interrupted quietly.  This time, she pulled the oxygen mask away and handed it back to April.   "I think I'm good for now," she told her sister-in-law, croaking slightly, but she didn't dissolve into a coughing fit, and so April accepted the mask with a silent nod, stooping to turn off the tank.
 
Heather turned her attention back to Jake, who stood tensely, hands on his hips, facing her, glaring.  She knew her husband, knew that his anxiety almost always manifested itself as anger.   As a rule, Jake Green did not admit to being afraid about anything; and as a rule, Heather Green didn't let on when she knew he was.
 
"I was doing my job," she repeated, more forcefully this time.  "My student was missing, and one of the other kids said she'd gone into the library.   She's eight years old and I am responsible for her."  Heather paused, taking a breath and coughing once.   "I'm sure there were better ways to handle the situation, but I did what I did and it's done."   She bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to fight the sudden tightness in her sinuses and the tears that were threatening to flood her eyes.   "So, am I really gonna get a lecture from Jake - my real middle name is 'Dangerous' - Green?" she demanded finally.
 
Jake exhaled deeply, his expression softening somewhat.  "Well, at least I can honestly say I've never run into a burning building," he told her, frowning.
 
"And, I can honestly say it's highly unlikely I'll ever do so again," Heather returned.
 
"God, babe," he whispered then.  Jake reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, hauling Heather to her feet.   He pulled her into a fierce embrace, tucking her head underneath his chin.   "You shouldn't - stop - just don't scare the hell outta me like that, okay?" he requested, murmuring the words against the top of her head so that only she could hear.
 
"It's okay, Jake," Heather soothed, kissing him on neck, tasting the salt on his skin.  "I'm okay, I promise.   I'm okay."
 
Behind them, April and Stanley exchanged a look, silently agreeing that it would be a good idea to beat a hasty retreat.  "Uh, I think I'm gonna go," Stanley announced, clearing his throat.   Jake and Heather separated, though his arm was still wrapped around her, holding her against his side.  They turned to face Stanley.  "I'm glad you're okay, Heather," Stanley sighed.   He stepped toward her, and earning a rather pro forma glare from Jake, pressed a quick kiss to her temple.   "Take care of that niece or nephew of mine," he ordered.
 
"What he said," April agreed, watching Stanley for a moment as he headed to his truck.  "And, I need to go, too, so plenty of fluids.   Water, herbal tea - mint or fruit's probably best - take a Tylenol if you need to, doctor's orders.   And, if you can find 'em, cough drops, they'll help," she instructed Heather.    "As for you, Jake," she added, chuckling, "Good luck."
 
She started to walk away, stopping when Jake laid his hand on her arm.  "April, wait," he commanded.   "I - your house."
 
April's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he could tell that she was working to keep it together as she looked back at him.  "I just - I can't think about that right now, Jake," she told him after an obvious pause to collect herself.  "Right now, I've still got patients.  I need to get back to the clinic, take care of Ashley and Emily -"

"April, I went to your house," he interrupted.  "That's where I was, that's why I was gone."  Jake shrugged, and letting go of Heather, took a step toward his sister-in-law.  "I didn't see how one more person here was gonna make that much difference, but I figured maybe I could do something there," he told her. 

What Jake didn't tell her was that he'd gone because of her, and in direct opposition to Eric's choice to not fight the fires in the east woods.  April had backed her husband's decision, though Jake was sure that she really hadn't wanted to; she had only been giving into the inevitability of the situation.  He'd recognized the sense of loss in her expression, and had wanted to do what he could to prevent it.  As for his brother, all he'd been able to see at that moment was Eric flirting with and holding hands with Mary Bailey.  When Jake had decided to go to the house, it had been for April's sake.

"It was already on fire when I got there," he told her quickly, dashing some of the hope in her expression.  "But, I did get the fire out.  With help."

"We were expecting it to be burned to the ground, so anything's better than that," April offered, shrugging.  "What's - what's the damage?" she asked finally, biting her lip.

Jake closed his eyes, delaying if only for a moment having to deliver the bad news.  "It's not livable," he admitted, reaching for her hand.  "The living room and dining room are gutted, and the kitchen's seen better days, but the rest of the first floor's okay," Jake explained as April gripped his hand tightly.  "Upstairs, the front bedroom is gone, but the rest looked okay."

April nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes suspiciously bright and her lip trembling.  "Well," she breathed, her voice squeaking softly, "At least it was just Eric's new home gym, so no great loss there, right?" she tried to joke.

"I was wondering what the hell was in there when I went up to look at the damage," Jake muttered.  Heather moved silently to April's other side, wrapping her arm around her.  She met Jake's glance with a watery smile and an almost imperceptible nod, prompting him to continue.  "Structurally, it's all repairable, really," he offered, not knowing what else to say. 

"Jake," April laughed humorlessly, shaking her head.  "I can't send blood to the lab in Goodland for analysis," she reminded.  "So, I'm not holding my breath for an insurance adjustor to show up, or a contractor to be available."

He nodded.  "I know.  I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling distinctly helpless.  "There's plenty that can be salvaged," Jake said, shrugging.  "And, you know Mom and Dad - well Mom, anyway - will be glad to have you.  Or, you're welcome at the ranch."

"Absolutely," Heather agreed.

That was enough to garner a real smile from April.  "You and Eric living in the same house?" she asked.  "That really would be the end of the world."

"We've done it before," Jake reminded, "And, who knows what'll happen from here on out."

"Thank you, Jake," April sighed, hugging him.  "You're a good brother."  She kissed him on the cheek, and then took a step back, turning to hug Heather as well.  "Take this one home," she ordered, clearing her throat.  "Make her take a nap."  April took a deep breath then, and they watched as her neutral, professional mask fell back into place.  "I'll see you both later." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs

Grandpa Green had just settled down in his favorite chair with a good book, a cup of real coffee, and a slice of warm Dutch apple pie, when he heard the tell-tale sound of crunching gravel on the driveway outside, heralding the arrival of visitors.   He was an eminent figure in Jericho, and he had plenty of friends, but most were too old to drive at night anymore, and all had more sense than to drop by for a visit without calling first.   That left Grandpa Green with one or two good guesses as to who his visitor or visitors were, and really just one when he thought about it some more, seeing how it was Friday night, and his grandson and namesake, Eric and his wife were technically still newlyweds, and not likely to bother with checking up on him if April had managed to wrangle the night off.   Therefore, he knew who he'd see even before he looked out the front window.

His son, Johnston, and daughter-in-law, Gail, were coming up the path, Gail carrying a two gallon jug of grape juice.  Sighing, Grandpa walked back across the entry to the door of his study, and with one last longing look at his snack, pulled the door closed.   It would all reheat later he knew, and since neither coffee nor large slices of pie from the Richmond farm stand were, strictly speaking, on his prescribed diet, Grandpa figured this was one of those times when what Gail didn't know, well, it wouldn't hurt him.   

He opened the door on Johnston's third knock.  "My, this is a surprise," he greeted.  "Come in."

"Hello, Dad," Gail said, giving him a quick hug before moving beyond him into the house.

Johnston shook his father's hand.  "Dad," he sighed.

"We thought we'd come by and see how you and Jake are doing tonight," Gail began, leading the way to the kitchen.  "And, we wanted to bring you your grape juice."

"Well, I hope you got it at Gracie's," Grandpa replied.  Grape juice was on his prescribed diet, thanks to an article Gail had found in magazine at the dentist's office awhile back.   He'd developed a slight tremor these last few years, a symptom of nothing more than the fact that he was getting old, Grandpa knew, and which amazingly the tests that his doctors had run, confirmed.   But Gail had read that red wine or grape juice would help, and so now he drank so much grape juice it should have been coming out his ears. 

"It's on sale there this week," he continued, while Gail set the jug of juice on the counter.  "Jake and I bought a bottle on Tuesday when we did the shopping, and then April brought me another on Wednesday - she got hers at Gracie's, too."

Gail blushed, reminding Grandpa very much of the pretty nursing student his son had proudly introduced to him some thirty-five years before.  "Well, now at least you have plenty," she decided with a shrug, chuckling to herself.   "Is Jake around?"

Johnston had seated himself at the corner of the long farm table, and Grandpa shooed Gail after him.  "He's out," he answered.   "Shall I put on the kettle for some tea?"

"That'd be nice," Gail acknowledged.  "But, I can do it, Dad."

"So can I," Grandpa returned with an off-handed wave.  "Though, if you'd like, there's some banana bread in the bread box, from April.   She brought it along with the grape juice," he explained, eliciting a rather strangled snort from Johnston.   "As for Jake," Grandpa added, starting to fill the tea kettle at the tap, "He's out for the evening."

"But, his car's here," Gail protested, pulling plates and mugs out of the cupboard. 

 Grandpa nodded.  "It is," he agreed.  "Doesn't change the fact that Jake's not," he pointed out, setting the kettle on the stove to heat. 
 
"Did he take the truck then?" Gail persisted, handing dishes off to Johnston.

"Nah," Grandpa denied, placing the teapot on the counter next to the stove.  He retrieved a tea bag from the canister against the wall and put it in the teapot, everything ready except the heating water.  "He left on foot, 'bout a half hour ago," Grandpa told Gail, deciding to throw her a bone, as he walked slowly to the table.  "With Heather.  Her car's here, too," he explained, seating himself.

"Heather?" Gail repeated.  Her tone was interested, but her expression betrayed nothing.  "Miss Lisinski?"

"Miss Heather Lisinski, yes," Grandpa confirmed.  "They're on a date," he added, studying his daughter-in-law as she carefully arranged slices of banana bread on a plate. He could tell that she had a million questions, and that she didn't know which to ask first.  And some of them, he knew, she was simply afraid to ask.  Gail and Jake had always been close, but these last four months, living with Jake had more often than not been like living with a bear with a sore head.  Grandpa had learned to ignore him, taking the worst of his attitude as a badly expressed request for some time and space.  But Gail, not used to being excluded from her son's life, not even during the awful year of Jonah Prowse, was hurting.

Surprisingly, it was Johnston, and not Gail, who asked the next question.  Not surprisingly, his question was about logistics.  "Where'n the world were they headed on foot?" he demanded.

"Your mother's water tower," Grandpa answered with a grin.  "Jake may have found himself the one girl in Jericho interested in spendin' Friday night staring up at the stars."

"So, do you think it's serious?  With Heather?" Gail questioned. She moved around Johnston, taking the chair next to him, frowning softly as she met her father-in-law's steady gaze.

"I think he's smitten," Grandpa confirmed, chuckling.  "Of course, she's smitten, too, so that works out well," he sighed, reaching across the table to lay his wrinkled hand over Gail's.  "She's good for him.  He's thinkin' about someone besides himself again, somethin' besides how much he hates Jonah Prowse, or how guilty he feels about Chris. D' you know, he spent a good two hours today haulin' equipment and what not out to the water tower, and then up?  I'm tellin' you, that boy's decided to pitch woo."

Johnston coughed, obviously trying not to laugh.  "'Pitch woo', Dad?  Jake?"

"Well, I realize that's not what they're callin' it these days, but that's what he's doing," Grandpa insisted.  "Jake's with Heather any of the time she's not teaching or sleepin'.  Disappears around four every afternoon, comes home 'bout midnight.  And, he's finally in a good mood again."

The kettle started to whistle, and Johnston climbed to his feet, waving his father off.  "I'll get it, Dad."

"Thank you, Son," Grandpa acknowledged.  He turned his attention to Gail, who still looked somewhat bothered.  "What is it?" he prompted gently.

Gail shook her head as if to clear it, and then attempted a smile.  "It's just I haven't talked to Jake all week.  He hasn't come by."  She groaned softly, looking down at the table.  "I know he's had a rough time of it lately, but - I don't know."

"He's not shutting you out, Gail," he told her.  She started to protest, and Grandpa held up his hand to stop her.  "I know he was before, but that was different.  He was hurting, he needed to lick his wounds, and he loves you too much to want you to see that."

"And now?" she asked, her voice husky.

"And now he's enjoying himself," Grandpa chuckled, smiling.  "He's got tunnel vision, and Heather's the only one in that tunnel right now."

Johnston carried the teapot to the table and poured for each of them.  Gail thanked him and sat back in her chair, her hands wrapped around her mug to warm them.   "You've at least met her for more than five minutes," she complained.  "But, I guess all we can do is wait until Jake's ready to let us meet her for real."
 
"Well, he's bringing her to dinner on Sunday," Grandpa informed them, "So you won't be waiting that long."
 
Gail literally perked up at this news, offering them a genuine smile.  "To dinner?  You're sure?"
 
"I heard them talking about it when she came in tonight," he explained.  "Of course, for some reason it took 'em nearly five minutes to come from the front door into the kitchen," he chuckled.  
 
"We ran into 'em on Saturday night, same thing," Johnston said, resuming his seat at the table.  "She looked like she'd been kissed, and his hair was a mess," he chuckled.  "Jake couldn't get rid of us fast enough."
 
"Johnston Green," Gail complained half-heartedly.  She smacked him lightly on the arm, and then reached for a slice of banana bread.   "They were just holding hands, and they looked happy."
 
"They might have just been holding hands when we saw 'em, but they'd been doing more than that beforehand, and you know it."
 
Grandpa laughed.  "I caught 'em canoodling in the pantry on Wednesday," he reported.  "I was sure it was all Jake's idea, but Heather couldn't look at either of us without blushing the rest of the evening, so now I'm not so sure."
 
"Do you know how they met?" Gail asked, sighing.  "When they met?"
 
"Last Friday," he answered.  "Heather was coming out to meet with me 'bout a local history project for school, only she had her tire blow out on the way.   Jake was comin' home from Denver, and he stopped to help."
 
 "Last Friday?" Gail repeated, her mouth hanging open.  "A week ago - a week ago, tonight?   They're moving kind of fast, don't you think?"
 
Grandpa Green chuckled, studying his son and daughter-in-law for a long moment.  "You know what I think?" he asked finally, taking another sip of his tea.  "I think that Johnston went all through high school with a nice girl in Susannah Lawson."
 
"Dad -" Johnston started to object, but Grandpa cut him off.
 
"I think we're all aware of the situation, Johnston," he told his son.   "And, seeing as how I had a nice conversation with Susannah at the library not two weeks ago when she was bringin' her granddaughter - Lucy's little girl - to story hour, I think it's safe to assume she's over what happened."
 
"And, she and I somehow managed to co-chair the high school athletic boosters committee for three years without Susannah once threatening to scratch my eyes out," Gail reminded with a soft smile.   Under the table, she reached for Johnston's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  She knew that all these years later, he still felt a small twinge of guilt regarding what had happened with Susannah.  
 
Johnston heaved a sigh, addressing his father.  "You were saying, Dad?"
 
"I was saying that Susannah Lawson was a lovely girl," Grandpa repeated, "And, when you went in the Army, and came home on leave after basic training, your mother at least, and me too, honestly, expected that you were gonna propose," he reminded.  "But what'd he do instead?" he asked rhetorically, looking at Gail. "He came down with appendicitis, and got himself sent to the hospital in Rogue River, that's what he did.  So, a week later, when we're packin' him up, ready to head home, this cute little student nurse who'd been lookin' after him shows up - on her day off, mind you - to say good-bye, and when she walks outta the room, this one here tells me he's in love with her."  Grandpa grinned at Gail.  "What was her name again?" he teased, snapping his fingers and screwing up his face, as he pretended to search his memory.  "Abigail Somethin'," he muttered.  "Abigail O'Brien, I do believe."
 
"Oh, really?"  Gail fixed Johnston with a stare.  "You didn't tell me that you were in love with me at the end of that week."
 
He shrugged.  "Well, you wouldn't tell me your name for the first three days," Johnston argued.   "Nurse O'Brien, that's all you'd give me.  'Nurse O'Brien, how are you today?' I'd ask, and you'd say, 'That's not important, Private Green.  I just need to check your stitches,'" he recalled, a slight smirk quirking his smile.  "And when I said, 'Nurse O'Brien, why won't you tell me your name?' you'd say, 'That's neither here nor there, Private Green.  Now, take your medicine.'"  Johnston tugged on her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it.  "After what you put me through, I figured I'd wait a bit before I'd tell you how I'd fallen for you, Nurse O'Brien."

"I wouldn't tell you my name, Private Green, because your mother had already made it very clear to me that you had a girlfriend - practically a fiancée," Gail reminded, chuckling.  She freed her hand from his and crossed her arms, forcing a severe expression. "I wasn't going anywhere near that."

"That's because she saw how I looked at you," Johnston argued.  "I was half in love by the time they wheeled me out of the recovery room.  I just remember coming to and seeing all that red hair, that starched white uniform.   I wasn't sure that I hadn't died in surgery and woken up in heaven," he told her, winking.

Gail laughed at that, closing her eyes for a moment.  "You know, the first thing you ever said to me, coming out of the anesthesia, was 'Holy hell, you're gorgeous.'"  She leaned over, and gave him a peck of a kiss.  "And that was the only reason I told you my name after a mere three days."

"Thank God for anesthesia," Johnston muttered.  He looked then at his father.  "So, is the point of all this that Jake's in love with Miss Lisinski?"

"Wouldn't know," Grandpa shrugged.  "He hasn't told me, one way or the other.  Course, I'd hope he's inherited some of his mother's good sense, and would know to tell Heather first," he joked, grinning at Gail.  "All I'm tryin' to say is, maybe they're movin' fast, but they wouldn't be the first.  And, maybe sometimes," he concluded, finishing his mug of tea, "You meet the right person, and all you need is a week."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

Jake Green turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.  He reached for a towel, finding it on the bar without looking, and then, after a cursory attempt to dry himself, secured it around his waist.  Moving through the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom, he spotted Heather, also freshly showered and now dressed in her favorite pajamas, sitting on the end of their bed, struggling as she tried to put a new bandage on her right hand using just her left.  "Need some help?"

She looked up at him, her expression a picture of frustration, but shook her head 'no'.  "I've got it, thanks."

"Okay," he muttered in return, crossing the room to his dresser.  He found clothes and pulled them on, then took a quick pass at his wet hair with the towel.  Turning back around, he watched Heather, still grappling with the bandage, fairly certain that over the preceding minute she'd only made things worse.

"Will you just let me help you?" he demanded, tossing the towel over his shoulder, before striding across the room and dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hand.

She started to yank her hand back, but he caught it, stopping her.  "It's just a bandage," she argued, a frown working its way onto her face.  "I can handle it," Heather insisted.

"You can handle a lot," Jake agreed.  "The only problem here is that nobody has much luck bandaging their own dominant hand."  They stared at one another for a long, silent moment, and then he started to chuckle.  Shaking his head, Jake let go of her hand, and sat back.  "Do you realize we're basically repeating the first argument we ever had?  Babe," he sighed, "You let me change your tire when you didn't know me from Adam, and for all you knew, I was a serial killer.  So, will you just let me help you now?  After all," he cajoled softly, "It's part of the deal." 

"The deal?" she asked, starting to relax.  "Which of our many deals does this fall under?"

"The big one, of course," Jake told her, smiling gently.  He sat forward, reaching for her hand again.  This time she didn't resist him.  "Sickness and health clause."

A smile crept onto Heather's lips.  "Oh, right," she laughed softly.  "That one."

Jake stood up, moving to sit next to her on the end of the bed.  "Let me help you, please, and tomorrow you can be twice as cussedly independent, okay?"  She nodded, and he let out the breath he'd been holding.  "Heather, I know I haven't been living up to my part of the deal, I haven't been here -"

"You're here now, and I'm just being crabby," she admitted, making a face.  "Damn April for being right," Heather grumbled, trying not to laugh.  "Having you here now, and for the foreseeable future," she stressed, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him, "Makes up for a lot.  Let's just call it even, okay?" she sighed.

"Okay," he agreed, cupping her cheek with his hand, before kissing her softly.  "Okay," Jake repeated, finding her injured hand, and then beginning to unravel the mangled bandage she'd applied.  "So, how'd you do this?" he asked, examining her injured hand.  With everything else going on at the library, Jake hadn't even noticed that her hand was bandaged until they were home, and this was his first opportunity to see the extent of her injury.  He was relieved to see that the burn was superficial, and while he had no doubt it hurt, there was no reason to think it wouldn't heal soon and without complication.

"Grabbed a doorknob without checking the door for heat first," Heather admitted, shaking her head.  "Completely stupid, I know.  You should feel free to tell me I'm an idiot for that one."

Jake reached for the tube of antibiotic cream that was sitting on top of the first aid kit Heather was using.  "You're not an idiot," he told her. 

"I've already put that on," she told him, as he squirted a small line of cream onto her hand. 

"A little more isn't going to hurt," he insisted, rubbing it into her skin.  "Better safe than sorry."  Using the bandage that she'd started with, Jake gently wrapped her hand up, and secured it.  Then, kissing the inside of her wrist, released her hand.  "There you go," he pronounced. 

"Thanks," she murmured, leaning against him.

"Welcome," he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the side of her head.  "How's your throat?"

"Sore.  More sore.  Sorer?"  She shook her head.  "None of those sound right," Heather yawned.  "Throwing up didn't help."

He chuckled sympathetically, kissing the top of her head.  "Yeah, I believe that," he acknowledged. They'd been about halfway home when she'd demanded that he stop the car so that she could throw up.  Jake had managed to pull over just before she launched herself out the door.  Her cast still made everything awkward, and when he had come around the front of the Trailblazer he'd found her standing, bent at the waist, gagging and spitting.  Nothing had come up but stomach bile, and when she'd finally stopped, Heather had confessed that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast more than six hours before.  Her eyes watering, she'd accepted the napkins -liberated from the glove compartment - that he'd offered her, and wiped her face, admitting that allowing her stomach to get empty wasn't her smartest move ever.  Jake had bitten his tongue, realizing it wasn't going to win him any points to tell her that even he knew that pregnant women were supposed to eat regularly.  

"You gonna lay down?" he suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Jake stood and offered her his hand, helping her stand.  She walked around the side of the bed, sitting and then laying down on top of the bedspread.  "Do you need anything else?" he asked, packing up the first aid kit.

"Oh, yeah," Heather yawned.  She raised herself up on her elbows, and pointed across the room to a cotton throw that was draped over the back of a chair.  "Can I have that?"

"Sure," Jake agreed, grabbing the blanket.  He crossed the room, and was about to cover her with it when he sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing her tank top up a few inches, cupping the slight bump of her stomach.  Jake looked up, his eyes wide.

"You gonna freak out on me, hon?" she teased gently, smiling.

"No," he denied, allowing a stunned chuckle.  "I - I just hadn't really noticed," Jake admitted, stroking his thumb over her belly, exploring the new, lush roundness he found there.  "Wow."

Heather grinned, her own excitement, mixed with just a little apprehension, obvious.  "The first evidence of Baby Green," she murmured, sitting up so she could lay her hand over Jake's.  "It just sort of happened.  Poof!" she told him, giggling.  "One day, same as always, and then all of a sudden, this.  Thank God April told me I was pregnant," she joked, "Or it'd be me freakin' out right about now." 

"I'm guessing you woulda figured it out eventually," Jake offered, laughing.  He looked down at their hands, splayed over the soft swell that would be their child.  "You can't tell when you're in real clothes, or sitting, or standing," he told her, "But just now...." Jake didn't bother to complete his thought, instead offering her a crooked smile.

"It'll get bigger soon enough," she assured him.  "I'll get bigger soon enough."  Heather started to cough then, dissolving into a hacking fit that she couldn't seem to recover from.  She rolled onto her side, and then onto her stomach, half hanging off the bed, continuing to cough, clearly unable to catch her breath.  Jake rubbed her back, not knowing what else to do, feeling helpless.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only around a minute, her coughing subsided, and Heather, spent, flopped back on the bed.

Concerned, Jake stroked the side of her face.  "Okay?" he asked cautiously.

She nodded, blinking back the tears in her eyes, taking deep, gulping breaths.  Jake reached for the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand, and took off the cap, holding it out to her.  Heather accepted it gratefully, sipping slowly.  "Okay," she mumbled, testing to see if she could talk without starting to cough again.  Heather handed the water bottle back to Jake.  "Thanks," she whispered huskily, her smile tremulous.  "Ouch."

Jake recapped the bottle and returned it to the nightstand.  "You know," he sighed, clutching her hand in his, "After today, and last week at the salt mine, I'm starting to get a neanderthalic impulse to just lock you in the house to keep you safe."  He frowned, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Jake," Heather murmured.  She took a deep breath, her internal struggle over how to continue playing out on her face.  "I knew pretty quickly that I was in over my head," she admitted finally, shaking her head.  Before, she'd merely looked tired, but her coughing fit had sapped what little energy she'd had left, and now Heather looked and sounded absolutely exhausted.  "I should have waited for the fire department, but I didn't know how soon they'd come.  And, once I was inside, I couldn't turn around.  I knew Ashley was in there, and besides, flaming debris was falling down behind me."  She yawned, groaning softly.  "When I found her, she was so scared.  She was under a table in the children's playroom, and I couldn't get her to come out for anything.  God, I've never been so glad to see Eric in my life."

"Eric?"  Jake questioned, his expression puzzled.  "What do you mean?"

"April told you, Jake," Heather reminded, coughing once.  Frustration flashed in her eyes, and she waited a few seconds to make sure she wasn't about to have another attack before continuing.  "Eric came into the library after me.  He helped rescue Ashley and me." 

Jake could vaguely recall April mentioning Eric in connection with Heather and the fire, but he had been focused on Heather and his worries about her and the baby she carried, and hadn't bothered to find out what Eric had to do with anything.  "He rescued you?"

Heather nodded.  "I couldn't get Ashley to come out from under the table, and then Eric just appeared.  I was so glad to see him.  I called him 'the angry fireman'," she confessed, flashing a guilty grin.  "Told Ashley we had to do everything he said, and she finally came out.  He worked really hard to protect us, Jake," Heather sighed, "And then, when we could get out of the building, he carried her out, thank God.  I wouldn't have been able to."

Her words started to sink in, and Jake couldn't help but feel a profound relief that his brother had been able to protect Heather when he couldn't.  He and Eric had their differences, and were always likely to butt heads, especially given their competitive natures, but now, for the moment, Jake felt only gratitude for his brother.  "Guess I can't be pissed off at him anymore, least for right now," he decided, exhaling deeply. 

"Why are you mad at Eric?"

"Same old, same old," Jake answered.  "Not important."  He leaned over, kissing her softly.  "Don't worry about it," he instructed.  Jake reached down and picked up the throw blanket from where he had dropped on the floor earlier, and then laid it over Heather.  "Time for you to rest," he told her.

He started to get up, but Heather stopped him, tugging on his hand.  "Stay," she requested, smiling at him.  "Please.  You should rest, too.  Besides," she admitted shyly, "I want your company."

Jake knew that there were many other things he should be doing, but suddenly none of them seemed important; in fact, he couldn't remember any of them.  "Okay," he agreed.  Heather rolled on her side, shifting enough so he could crawl over her, and then spoon behind her.  He draped his arm over her, settling his hand over the slight swell of their baby.  Nuzzling the back of her neck, Jake pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.  "I love you, Heather," he whispered.

Heather reached back with her free hand, patting Jake clumsily on the hip.  "Love you, too," she yawned.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs

They stared at one another for a long moment, her declaration hanging awkwardly between them in the cool night air.  Finally, Jake spoke.  "I think I need a little more than that," he told her, chuckling humorlessly, "For the sake of my sanity."

Heather nodded.  "Yeah," she agreed.  "I - It's just that that's the hard part to say, so I just kinda said it.  Otherwise, it'd be an hour from now, and I probably still wouldn't have.  It's - I don't know - it's like pulling off a band-aid," she sighed.  "Just sorta have to do it."  

"Okay," he acknowledged, not quite smiling.  It occurred to Jake that the confusion, the strange pang of jealousy, he was feeling at this moment was probably a lot like what Heather had felt the week before when he'd handed her his badge and had basically said, 'Trust me.  It'll all make sense in the end.'  He realized, as much as he wanted her to take it back, tell him she was just kidding, he owed her the same trust and understanding she'd offered him that night.  "Okay, is there a beginning you could start at?" he prompted.

"Yeah, good idea," she said.  "There's definitely context here, and it's important."  Heather bit her lip, watching him carefully.  "Plus, it's kind of a long story."

"Well then, how 'bout we break out the hot chocolate, and you tell me?"  Heather nodded her agreement, and Jake started to climb to his feet, waving her off when she tried to get up as well.  "I got it," he assured her, retrieving and donning his discarded jacket.  He took two steps toward the bench, and grabbed the thermos and bag of cookies, handing both down to her before finding their abandoned mugs.  He held both mugs out, and Heather poured for them.  Finally, Jake seated himself next to her.  "Okay?" he asked, reaching for a cookie.

She smiled, taking a sip of her cocoa.  "Okay," she agreed, leaning against him for just a moment.  Jake couldn't help but feel reassured.  "Two and a half years ago," she started, giggling softly at his startled expression.  "I told you it was a long story. Anyway," Heather continued, her tone turning serious, "My Mom ended up in the hospital with a kidney infection.  They never did figure out where it came from, and they had real trouble treating it.  I was in the middle of finals week, and I just remember that I'd take a test, and then as soon as I left the classroom, I'd call whoever was at the hospital with her, really just to make sure she hadn't died.  It was that bad." 

"She was in the hospital nearly three weeks," Heather explained, "And when she left, her kidneys were shot, and all the doctors were just relieved that she was still alive.  So were we.  She immediately had to start going to dialysis, and she needed a kidney transplant."  Heather looked sideways as Jake, frowning.  "My Mom had five kids, and none of us were a match.  She had three sisters, and none of them were a match.  Everyone in the family, blood relative or not, volunteered to be tested, and no one was a match.  So, she went on the transplant wait list."

"Had?" Jake asked gently.  He set his cup aside, and then reached for Heather's hand, lacing their fingers together, and kissing the back of her hand.

"Yeah," Heather acknowledged, impressed that Jake had picked up on that.  "She died in May," she told him, her voice tight.

"From what you've said about your family, I hadn't realized," he admitted.  "I'm sorry," Jake murmured, squeezing her fingers.

"Thanks," she sighed, attempting a weak smile.  "Sometimes, I don't remember she's dead.  I'll call home to talk to her, and it's only when my Dad picks up - he still doesn't sound like himself - that I remember.  I called on Sunday," Heather confessed.  "I wanted to tell her about our date the night before - not everything," she said quickly, and even by the low light of the lantern burning behind them, Jake could see Heather starting to blush.  "But, even though she didn't know I was gonna leave home, and she certainly didn't know I was gonna move to Kansas, I just know she'd worry about me, so I wanted to tell her about you."

Jake let go of her hand, and tilted her chin so that he could press a chaste kiss to her mouth.  "Do you think your Mom would've thought I was good enough for her only daughter?" he asked, his tone clearly implying that he doubted it.

Heather shrugged.  "I think she would've.  My Dad's another story, though," she laughed softly.  "He figured out that I'd called to talk to Mom, 'cause it wasn't the first time I've done that.  So, I ended up telling him about you," Heather admitted. "He told me to tell him what I was gonna tell Mom.  But, he did seem a little skeptical that you could be as great as I said."  She didn't tell him that she'd been so effusive in her description of Jake that her Dad had teasingly asked her who she was, and what had she done with his normally level-headed daughter.  However, he'd also said to trust her instincts, and every instinct that Heather had was pointing her to Jake Green.

"Your Dad's probably right," Jake told her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  "I'm not perfect, Heather.  Not by a long shot."

"I didn't say you were," she argued.  "I'm not either, as will become obvious when I tell you the rest of this story," Heather sighed.

"Okay then," Jake smiled, "Continue.  And, quit stalling," he ordered, kissing her again.

"See?" she chuckled.  "I am stalling," Heather agreed.  "Not perfect at all."  Jake didn't say anything, just stared at her pointedly.  Finally, taking a deep breath, Heather began again.  "My Mom had to go to dialysis three times a week," she explained, "And she had doctor's appointments all the time.  Someone had to drive her, and she was always tired, so she couldn't do any of the things she usually did around the house.  It was too much for my Dad to handle on his own, or even with my baby brother Mikey pitching in.  So, I moved home." 

"It was tough," Heather admitted.  "I was commuting farther to school, I was working as a tutor in a program for at-risk youth, I was driving my Mom somewhere practically everyday.  And then, my brothers - the older ones, not Mikey - started harping that I was turning into a nun."  She offered Jake a crooked smile.  "That's their code word for dried up old prune.  My brothers were all scarred by the Catholic education system."

"Guess so," Jake laughed softly.  Heather leaned her head against his shoulder and groaned in, Jake assumed, remembered frustration.  He snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her closer.  "Don't take this the wrong way," he instructed, kissing her ear, "But you are absolutely not nun material."

"Thank you," she giggled.  "But you better be careful, sayin' that to a good Catholic girl," Heather advised, grinning at him.  Jake couldn't help himself, and he kissed her again.  "And, you never want to say that to a good Catholic girl's dad."

"Well, I promise I'm not that stupid," Jake teased.  "But, you're stalling again," he prompted a few seconds later.

"I am," Heather agreed, chuckling.  "My brothers started their 'Get Heather a Date' campaign," she continued.  "And it's not like I was ever a big dater or anything," she added, her expression embarrassed, "But the three of them decided I needed a social life, and that they were gonna get it for me.  They picked out Mark Metzger - he'd gone to high school with John - and then John and his fiancée, Kerry, and Mark and I went out on a double date."

Heather sighed.  "I liked Mark," she said.  "He's a nice person, and we had fun when we went out, but that was never more than about once or twice a week, and usually with other people.  It was - it was casual."  She looked up at Jake, hoping that he understood what she was trying to say.  "We went out for over a year," Heather explained, watching Jake.  "But it was different.  It wasn't anything like it is with you," she told him softly.

"He proposed to you."

"Two weeks to the day after my mother died," Heather muttered, shaking her head.  "Nine days after her funeral.  His mother sent him over with a casserole for us, and I guess he decided to combine errands."

"Heather, he's a prick," Jake declared flatly, shaking his head.  "Only a prick would propose two weeks after your mother died."

She started to laugh, burying her face in the fabric of his jacket.  "Oh, God, Jake, that's exactly what I thought.  Well, I thought 'jerk'," she giggled, "But I like yours better.  Who does that?" Heather demanded, pulling back slightly.  "I mean, I was still in my pajamas!  I hadn't had a shower yet.  And, not that I wanted or expected him to propose, but why would he do that there?  Then?"

"I'm guessin' because he's an idiot as well as a prick," Jake snorted.  "I don't know why you're embarrassed about this.  He should be embarrassed, though I know he wasn't."

"No," Heather confirmed, sighing, "Mark was mad.  He told me that I'd led him on.  He figured that since we'd gone out for so long...." She shrugged; it wasn't really necessary to complete that statement.  "But, he kinda had a point," Heather argued, biting her lip.  "I did go out with him for a long time, and - I don't know - I did like him," she insisted, "At least until we broke up so spectacularly.  But honestly, a big part of it - of going out with Mark - was just the going out, getting away from everything at home, having something to look forward to on the weekend."

Heather had looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap, refusing to look at Jake for the entire second half of her explanation.  He reached out laying his hand over both of hers.  "Heather -"

"Maybe I did lead him on, use him.  I never felt - I feel more for you after a week, than I felt for him after a year," Heather confessed in a rush of breath.  She looked at Jake again, meeting his steady gaze with nervous, wide eyes.  'A lot more,' she thought but didn't say, already feeling she'd said too much.  "And, I promise, that's not me in any way, shape, or form fishing for a marriage proposal," she joked uneasily.  Heather looked down at her lap once more, realizing that, if she hadn't said too much before, she certainly had now.  "Oh, God," she muttered.

She heard Jake exhale sharply, and then he placed his thumb under her chin, gently forcing her head up, making her look at him.  He smiled at her sweetly, compassion, if not complete understanding, reflected in his eyes.  "So, you're saying, if I proposed to you tonight, you'd just turn me down flat, huh?" he teased gently.

Heather blushed, but she didn't look away.  "Uh, yeah, I think I'd have to," she told him, squinting.  In truth, her heart had fluttered just a bit at Jake's words.  It was a good thing, she thought, that he was only kidding.    "Though, I have to say," she joked, clearing her throat, "You picked a great place to not propose."

"I'll hafta keep that in mind," Jake murmured, bringing his mouth down on top of hers.  Heather responded eagerly, leaning into Jake and wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands going into his hair.  They were soon both up on their knees, their arms around one another, pressed together.  "Heather," Jake groaned, burying his face against her shoulder.    

"Jake," she whispered in return, stroking the back of his neck, from his hairline to the collar of his jacket, with the fingers of one hand.

He raised his head, and then rested his forehead against hers.  "Mark Metzger is a prick, and he was lucky you were ever willing to give him the time of day," he told her.  They separated slowly, and then Heather turned, fitting herself into Jake's arms, one leg thrown over his.  "So, this is why you moved to Jericho?"

"Partly," Heather confirmed, looking at him sideways.  "The neighborhood I grew up in - the parish I grew up in - is just a small town, really.  Smaller than Jericho.  And, Mark's mother knew he was going to propose," she told Jake.  "It didn't take long for those rumors to make their way around.  Mark proposed on Thursday morning, and when I went to Saturday night mass with my Dad, I was already getting looks.  The next Monday, I ran into Mark's cousin at the drug store.  She made it very clear what she thought about me," Heather chuckled grimly.

"I figured it would all blow over, and it kinda did.  It wasn't the biggest topic of gossip around after about a week," she explained.  "But it was still uncomfortable.  I'd applied for a position in the local school district where I'd done my student teaching all year, and I got the job, only I realized I wasn't excited about it," Heather admitted, finding Jake's hand in the darkness.  "After my Mom died, and then the blow up with Mark, home didn't feel like home anymore."

Jake nodded, though he knew she couldn't see.  He kissed the top of her head, muttering, "Yeah."  He'd struggled with that particular feeling all his adult life, though now, sitting here on his grandmother's water tower, Heather in his arms, it was hard to remember why.

"My Dad got Mikey to help him on the internet," Heather continued.  "The two of them presented me with literally a hundred pages of applications for teaching jobs in other places.  At first, I wasn't interested.  Mikey was goin' off to college in three months, and I didn't want my Dad to be alone, but he convinced me eventually."  She laughed then, shaking her head against Jake's chest.  "Heck, he sat me down at the kitchen table, and made me fill 'em out.  And, when I realized that I was filling out an application for Jericho Kansas, not Jericho Vermont, and I was ready to tear it up and move on, he wouldn't let me.  'Nothin' wrong with tryin' it out,' he said."

"Huh," Jake breathed.  He tightened his hold on Heather, leering at her softly when she turned her head to meet his gaze.  "I think I like your Dad already.  He sounds like a smart man."

Heather grinned at Jake.  "Yeah," she agreed. "Jericho Kansas, who knew?" she teased, her smile widening as his mouth descended upon hers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Different Circumstances: Part 5C of ? by Marzee Doats

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

"You two aren't supposed to be here," April accused, hands on her hips, as she watched Jake and Heather climb out of their car.   She'd been putting a box of papers - things she didn't want anyone seeing - in the trunk of her own car when Jake had driven up behind her.

"Don't give me that look," Jake defended himself.  April had a glare that would've done his mother proud.   "This was her idea," he added, pointing at Heather.   "She thinks you're in dire need of our help."

April shook her head.  "You had a traumatic experience today," she told Heather.  "Physically traumatic," April emphasized.   "You need to rest, and take care of yourself.   And, you were supposed to make her," she added, frowning at Jake.   "You're a horrible nurse, you know that?"

"Probably 'cause I'm not a nurse," Jake reminded, rolling his eyes.  "Usually, if she's sick, I just check her three, four times a day, bring food and medicine."

"Besides, I feel fine," Heather argued.  "I ate, I had a nap, I took a Tylenol, I did everything you told me to do."

"She also threw up, had three bad coughing fits, plus coughed the whole time she was sleeping," Jake reported.

"Tattle tale," Heather accused softly. 

Frowning, April made an aggravated noise.  "You should be resting," she told Heather.  "And, if you're not gonna do it for yourself, do it for your baby," April stressed.   "Please!"

"There's gotta be something I can do, low impact, to help out," Heather suggested.  She looked at Jake, grinning.   "Make him do all the hard stuff."

"Thanks," Jake grumbled.  "And, that reminds me."  He stuck his hand out just under her chin.   "Spit."

"Excuse me?" Heather replied, confusion written on her face.

Jake glanced at April and then back at Heather.  "April said I was to make you spit every once in awhile.   So spit."

"That's disgusting!" Heather complained.  April's expression showed that she agreed.

"I have a passing acquaintance with your saliva," Jake reminded.  "I'm pretty sure I'll live."   She blushed at that, and tried to push his hand away.   April snickered, a hint of a smile easing her tired appearance.  Jake allowed a smirk.   "What?" he argued, "It's not like I said I had an intimate acquaintance with your saliva."

Heather socked him on the shoulder for that, glaring.  Her blush deepened.  "Jake Green, you just did."

"Whoops," he acknowledged, his tone completely unrepentant.  Jake looked at April again, glad to see that she'd developed a full-blown smile.   "So, April, I have to ask, as a doctor, does any of this shock you?"

April laughed out loud.  "It's been a long time since I was shocked by anything you said or did, Jake."   She looked at Heather.  "Hey, I say spit.   Call it doctor's orders."

"Fine!" Heather declared.  She threw him a wicked grin, and spent a few seconds working up a mouthful of saliva, before grabbing Jake's wrist to hold his hand in place, and then spitting into his palm. 

"Nice," Jake chuckled, holding his hand out for April to inspect.
 
"Well, I was going for volume," Heather told him smugly.  She'd been embarrassed at first, but with only April present, she knew there was no reason to be.  April was more than used to Jake, and it had made her laugh, which Heather figured was probably a big part of what he'd been going for, anyway. 
 
"You succeeded," Jake assured her.

"What in the world are you all doing?" Eric demanded, joining them.  He looked at each of them in turn, his expression clearly indicating that he was wondering if they were all insane.

April laughed softly.  "Jake Green's guerilla medical testing service."

"For smoke inhalation," Heather added, crossing her arms over her chest.  "They're trying to decide if I'm gonna die," she explained, coughing twice, softly.

"I'm trying to decide if you need to be in the clinic, on oxygen," April corrected.  "But, looks clear to me," she announced.

"Good," Jake agreed, turning his hand over, and flicking the pool of saliva off.  Both Heather and April squealed and jumped out of the way.   He rolled his eyes.   "You two are both such girls," he grumbled, wiping his palm on the leg of his jeans.  

Heather laughed.  "You'd prefer I wasn't a girl?" she teased.

"Just an observation," Jake grinned, winking at her.

"I need you to spit, too," April decided, facing Eric.  She was frowning again, a perfect picture of exhaustion and stress.   "You weren't in there as long as Heather, but just to be sure, Eric."

"You're gonna have to use your own hand," Jake informed his brother, wrapping his arm around Heather.

Eric groaned, but then he spit on his palm, showing it to April, who nodded her approval.  "Happy?" he asked, wiping his hand clean.

"Yes," April agreed, her expression turning pensive.  She offered Eric a half-smile.  "Thank you."

"Sure," he acknowledged.

"There's got to be something I can do to help," Heather told April again.

For a moment, it looked like April was going to turn her down, but then she sighed. "How about you pack clothes into suitcases," she suggested.   "Just no lifting of suitcases."

Heather nodded.  "That I can do." 

The two women headed into the house, Eric right behind them until Jake grabbed his arm.  "Hey."   Eric stopped, turning to face his brother.  "Thanks," Jake muttered.  "At the library, the fire, Heather.   Thanks for going in after her, getting her out."

Eric shrugged.  "No problem.  That's what family does.   And, you know," he continued, tilting his head at the burned out front of his house.   "Thanks."

"That's what family does," Jake echoed.

* * * * *

Jake found Heather in April's and Eric's bedroom a half hour later.  There were seven mostly full suitcases of various sizes scattered on the floor and bed.   "Who has this many suitcases?" he asked, looking around from the doorway, chuckling.

"I have three," Heather reminded, pulling a pile of Eric's t-shirts from his dresser, and then dropping them directly into the nearest suitcase.   "I know you're fond of your duffle bag and all, hon," she teased, "But the rest of us have embraced the wonders of rolling luggage."

"Don't go knockin' my duffle bag," Jake smiled, taking a step into the room.  "It does the job."   He waited a second, and then asked, "'Bout ready?   Eric and I loaded up our car, so we can head over to Mom and Dad's when you're done."

"Almost," she agreed.  "Let me just finish packing this one up," Heather requested, tapping the suitcase nearest her with her foot.   "Can you zip those ones closed for me?" she added, pointing at two others on the floor near the closet door.   "I have to admit," she said, covering her mouth as she coughed, "The smoky smell is starting to get to me."

"Then, let's get out of here," Jake murmured, stepping behind her, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  Heather leaned her head back against his chest, and he kissed the side of her head.   "Remember painting this room?" Jake asked.  "When they first moved in?"

Heather laughed.  "Yeah, it took me a week to get the paint out of my hair, thanks to you."

"That really was an accident," he insisted.  "I was aiming for your nose."

"Well, that would have been so much better," she giggled, pulling away momentarily.  She extracted another stack of shirts from the dresser, dropping them into the suitcase, and then turned to face Jake, his arms coming around her automatically.

"Just a little dab right there," he told Heather, touching the tip of her nose.  "You're the one who flinched."

She smiled at him, shaking her head.  "That was quite a weekend," she sighed.  "They were so happy."

"April's dream house," Jake agreed.

"What about Eric?" Heather countered. "No man should be that excited about a lawn."

"No self-respecting man should cut the grass to golf course regulation height, and install a sand trap in his backyard, either."

"That too," Heather chuckled.  She brushed her lips across his.  "Take care of those suitcases for me," she reminded, "And then we can go."

Jake nodded, hugging her close for a moment.  "You got it, babe."

* * * * *

"Mom!" Jake called out, opening the front door of his parents' house with his elbow.  He hefted the box of books he was carrying, shouting again.  "Mom!  Dad!"

Gail Green hurried into the entry from the kitchen.  "Shush, Jake," she ordered, "Your father's napping, and he needs his rest.  You're as bad as when you were a kid," she complained, chuckling.  "And, just what do you think you're doing, Heather Marie?" Gail demanded next, facing her daughter-in-law with a stern expression.

Heather, who was carrying an armload of winter outerwear, shrugged.  "It's just coats," she argued.  "Jake wouldn't let me bring anything else in."  She rolled her eyes.  "And my middle name?" Heather questioned, bemused.  "You never use middle names."

"Members of this family don't go running into burning buildings, either," Gail huffed, relieving Heather of the bundle of clothing in her arms.  "Especially the pregnant ones.  Jake," she continued, glancing at her son, still balancing the box of books on his hip, "Put that down anywhere."  Gail carried the coats a few steps into the living room, depositing them on the couch.  "Whatever were you thinking?" she asked, turning around to glare softly at Heather.

Heather sighed, "I was thinking that there was an eight year old inside that burning building."

"But you're pregnant!" Gail protested.

"And, so was Ashley Morrison's mother nine years ago," Heather argued.  "There wasn't anyone else around.  What if no one else had shown up in time?  Was I supposed to tell her mother that I'm sorry, I didn't look after your daughter like I was supposed to because I'm having a baby?"  She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.  "I know what I did wasn't the smartest, but it's what I did."

"You're okay?" Gail inquired, "Really okay?"

Jake came up behind Heather, laying his hands on her shoulders.  "She's okay, Mom," he assured her.  "April told me what to look for, and I've been watching her like a hawk."

"He's threatening to lock me in the house," Heather added, rolling her eyes.

"Now I'm thinkin' I'll just follow you around all day, keep you out of trouble that way," he told her, kissing the top of her head. 

"How exactly is having you follow me around gonna keep me out of trouble?" Heather teased, turning around to lace her arms around his neck before kissing Jake quickly.  "Besides, you'd be bored to tears, doing what I do most days."

Gail watched them, smiling to herself.  "I think Heather may have a point, Jake," she informed him once Heather turned back around, and there was a fighting chance that they were paying attention to her.  "You weren't a fan of the third grade the first time through."

"Didn't have Mrs. Green for a teacher," he told her.  "Ask any kid in Jericho," Jake grinned.  "She's cool."

"I think I'm being buttered up," Heather joked, throwing Jake a knowing glance. 

Gail nodded, smiling softly.  "I think you're right."

Jake's expression turned serious.  "We've got a carload of April's and Eric's things," he said.  "I'll just bring everything in, leave it down here, and you all can decide where it's going?"

"I can help with that," Johnston called out, drawing their attention back to the entry. 

"Johnston Green, you're supposed to be napping," his wife scolded, walking towards him.  "How do you expect to ever get better if you don't take the time to recover?"

"I've got more important things to do than lay around during the day," he responded, his tone obstinate.  "It's just a cold," Johnston added, coughing, "And, contrary to the opinions of some in this room," he drawled, glancing quickly in Jake's direction, "I'm not an old man."  He turned his attention on Heather, "So, what d' you have to say for yourself, young lady?" Johnston demanded.

"You're gonna yell at me too?" Heather asked, groaning softly as he approached her. 

"Who's yelled at you?" Johnston questioned.

Heather sighed.  "Jake, April and Gail."

He wrapped one arm around Heather, giving her a sideways hug.  "I should yell at you on Joe's behalf, if nothin' else," he told her.  "Your Dad would be spittin' nails if he knew what you did today.  But," Johnston decided, "I figure if April, Gail and Jake have all yelled at you, then I'd only be repeatin' one or all of them."  He kissed her on the forehead, and then pulled away, covering his mouth as he coughed again, a dry, hacking sound emanating from his chest.  "How're you feelin?" he asked, once he recovered.

"My throat's pretty sore," she admitted, starting to cough too.  "And, I sound just like you," she continued after a few seconds, clearing her throat loudly.  "We should try to harmonize later," Heather joked.  "I'm okay, I promise."

Johnston studied her for a moment, and then nodded.  "Good.  Let's try and keep it that way," he said, glancing at Jake, including him in the order.

"That's the plan, Dad," Jake agreed, meeting his father's gaze.

"Okay then.  Let's get to work on that car."

* * * * *

Jake came back through the front door fifteen minutes later.  "Hey," he greeted his mother and wife, as he walked passed them to deposit one last box on the growing pile stacked against the wall in the hallway.  He turned around, heading back into the dining room.  "Good silver," Jake observed as he approached the table.  "What's the occasion?"

Gail glanced at Heather, who was putting the last piece in place on the table.  "Well, this set's been passed down for five generations.  Probably seen the light of day maybe half a dozen times since I've had it," she explained.  "So we decided, from now on, every night's a special occasion."

"Did you turn off the TV?" Jake asked next, looking at the dark set.

"Yeah," Gail replied with a shrug.  "It seemed kinda silly to be starin' at a blank screen waiting for God knows who, to tell me God knows what."

"Plus, the electronic whine was really annoying me," Heather added.

"That too," her mother-in-law agreed.  "So," Gail continued, her gaze settling on Jake.  "Where's your father?"

"He's goin' over to April's and Eric's with the truck," he answered.  "See if he can help out."

"And, did you talk to him?" his mother inquired.

"Of course we talked," Jake told her, gripping the back of the dining chair in front of him.

"I mean besides 'hey, grab that, will ya?' and 'here you go'," Gail argued.  "I mean that talk that you and I talked about."

Annoyance flickered across Jake's face.  "I didn't agree to anything," he reminded, grimacing.  Her stare - That Look, as he always referred to it - hardened, and Jake exhaled, obviously exasperated.  "I'll think about it," he conceded finally before turning on his heel and stomping quietly out of the room.

Gail glanced at Heather, frowning pensively.  "Well, that went better than I was expecting," she admitted.

"Yeah," Heather nodded.  "Yeah."

* * * * *

"So, you found my hidin' spot," Johnston Green observed, greeting his son as he entered the den. 
 
"I think this is everybody's hiding spot," Jake returned.  "Just needed some place to be.   Nothin' to do for the moment."

Johnston nodded.  "You've been doin' a lot lately.  Takin' twenty minutes off before dinner's probably okay."   He placed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the coffee table between them before seating himself on the couch, opposite Jake.  "You allowed to drink this?" he asked, starting to pour.

"Legally?  Only for the last decade, Dad," Jake reminded, meeting his father's gaze with a quizzical look.  

"I mean, am I gonna get you in trouble with Heather?" Johnston explained.  "Pregnant women sometimes have their rules."

"If you were servin' coffee, I'd have to watch out," Jake shrugged, chuckling.  "But Heather doesn't like whiskey."

"Okay then," Johnston acknowledged, pushing a glass across the table to Jake.  "All yours."

Jake sighed.  "It's somethin' else every day," he muttered, slumping slightly in his seat.   He didn't reach for his drink.  "How are we gonna handle all this?"

"Same way we did today," Johnston replied, pouring himself three fingers of the whiskey.  "Lost a few buildings, but no lives."   He sat back on the couch, studying his son.  "And, that's in no small part thanks to you.  Lotta folks are saying how lucky Jericho is that you came home when you did."

"And what are you telling them?" Jake asked.

"Well, I try to correct them," he said, grinning softly, "But nobody listens to me."  Johnston laughed, eliciting an ironic smile from Jake.   "Course, it's not just Jericho that's lucky," he added, starting to cough.  "You're damn lucky yourself, Jake," Johnston gasped.

"I know that, Dad," he muttered.

 "Do you?" Johnston questioned.  "We love Heather, and we're gonna love that baby.  Your mother's already started knittin'," he told Jake.  "And if you hadn't come back when you did, we would've taken care of her, taken care of 'em both.   But, it woulda broken her heart, if you hadn't come back.  If your plane had been two hours late -"

Jake snorted.  "My plane was two hours late.  They held us in San Diego for a broken lavatory door."

"Then, if it'd been four hours late," Johnston argued, raising his voice.  "If you'd been closer to Denver - maybe in Denver - when that bomb hit.  We all saw what happened to those refugees.  They're dead," he reminded.   "You would have widowed Heather and orphaned your child before you even knew you were havin' one.  She loves you, and she's put up with -"

"Do you think I don't know that?" Jake demanded angrily, interrupting his father.  "You think it doesn't keep me up at night?"

"Welcome to marriage, Son," Johnston drawled.  "Marriage is hard."

They stared silently at one another for a long moment.  Jake picked up his glass, still watching his father over its rim as he took a sip of the whiskey.   "I'm not the one who needs this speech, Dad," he muttered.

Something flashed in Johnston's expression, something that Jake couldn't quite define but that at least told him that his father understood what he was implying.   Johnston Green knew that all was not right between Eric and April, but whatever else he knew, he was keeping to himself.  "Maybe you don't," Johnston agreed finally.  He played with his glass for a moment, and then took a drink.  "But I'm still feelin' like givin' it.   Indulge me," he ordered.

Jake's only answer was a narrow-eyed glare that took Johnston back fifteen years.  Still, he didn't refuse to listen, and Johnston interpreted that as begrudging permission to continue.  "You've taken Heather for granted, Jake," he started, sighing tiredly.  "She'd never say it - probably doesn't even think it - but you have.  You married her, and then continued to live your life, make your choices, like nothin' had changed."   He paused, surprised that Jake hadn't stormed out yet.  Johnston hadn't expected to get this far.  "You kept that job, went gallivanting all over the world."

"You married Mom, and then served three tours in Vietnam," Jake reminded through clenched teeth.   "What I've done is nothing different from that."

"I was in the Army, and we were at war," Johnston argued.  "It was a different time."

"It's not any different," Jake contradicted, shaking his head.  "I was doing what I'd agreed to do, what I'd been trained to do, same as you," he grumbled.    "Maybe I wasn't in the Army, but I'd made a commitment.  Heather knew it, and she understood.  It wasn't gonna be permanent, and she knew that, too."  Jake took a deep breath, trying to marshal his thoughts.  His mother had said he owed his father this explanation, and maybe he did. "You know what the hardest part about growin' up your son was?" he asked, surprising Johnston with the sudden shift in topic.   "It's not the politics, or the expectations," Jake insisted.  "It's that I never know what you want me to do."   

"You'd think I could get it right once in awhile," Jake chuckled grimly, his hands balled into fists on his lap.    "Law of averages should at least allow for that, but no.   When was the last time I did anything you were proud of? Hell - that you approved of?    Have I ever?"

Johnston was embarrassed to realize that the first things that came to mind were the bad things, the things he'd have to say that he was ashamed of Jake for.   The Emily Sullivan pregnancy scare when they were both sixteen; the West Point appointment that had been Jake's for the taking, but which he'd turned down; the semester Jake had spent of academic probation because he hadn't seen any need to attend 'the boring classes' when he could be sleeping instead; and of course, although it had turned out to not be true, when he'd been fired from the DEA and investigated for corruption.   Johnston could still remember the dazed, ashen expression on his wife's face, the feeling like he'd been punched in the gut, as Gail had explained that Jake would be coming home to stay with them for awhile, though she couldn't say how long, and that she needed him to support her in this decision.   It had turned out to be an elaborate lie constructed for an undercover operation, but it had still hurt, and Johnston could still vividly recall just how angry and upset with Jake he'd been.  

 But, he also knew that he couldn't tar Jake with that ten or fifteen year old brush anymore.   Not if he ever wanted the opportunity to sit in the den with his son and have a drink and a decent conversation without the bitter taste of misunderstanding in his mouth.  His mind might go to the bad first, but Jake had changed, and there was good to think about, too.  Johnston knew he had plenty to be proud of these days.   "There was a time - a pretty long time - when the only way I could've described you was as a stupid little punk," he admitted with a sigh.  "'But that hasn't been true for awhile," he continued, meeting Jake's wary gaze evenly.   "You're a pretty decent fellow, Jake."

Johnston picked up his glass, swirling the remaining liquid around absently before throwing his head back and finishing the drink off in one gulp.    "Today, when you got the pump station working, and the water back on.  I was proud of you.   When you rescued that bus full of kids, got everyone into the salt mine and outta the fallout.    When you graduated college and became a pilot," he listed quietly.  "When you put Jonah Prowse in prison where he belonged."

"Jonah got parole three months ago," Jake mumbled tiredly.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at his father, his expression truly puzzled.  

"I know," Johnston acknowledged with a shrug.  "But I got nearly five years without Jonah Prowse makin' trouble in this town.   I'll take it," he assured his son.  "And, one more important one," he sighed.   "When you recognized what you had in Heather, and married her."

Jake didn't say anything for a long time, sitting instead, studying his father.  He knew it was his turn, but he didn't know what to say, what to admit, how to return the favor of his father's most startling revelation.  "I was gonna resign after Jonah's trial," Jake said finally.
 
His voice was barely a whisper, and Johnston had to strain to hear him.  Jake picked up his glass, and then drank the rest of its contents quickly.  He didn't cough or wince, but he did squint just enough that Johnston couldn't help but smile behind his hand.   This was good whiskey, not the rot-gut alcohol that the teenagers in Jericho managed to acquire by the barrelful, year after year.
 
"I even had my letter, signed, in an envelope, ready to hand to Gretchen as soon as the verdict came down, either way," Jake continued.   "And then, I couldn't do it," he admitted, frowning.  "I didn't - I figured - I didn't want a lecture on responsibility, or duty, or whatever.   So, I gave the letter to Heather," he explained, looking his father in the eye.  "And, I made it her call," he admitted, a guilty glint in his eye.

"She wouldn't do that," Johnston told his son, resisting the urge to pour them both a second drink.   Neither of them needed it, no matter how much easier it would have made this conversation.

"No, she wouldn't," Jake agreed, exhaling deeply.  "Not for herself, anyway."

Johnston nodded, pursing his lips as he considered his next words carefully.  "Heather's a good woman, and she's been very patient with you, Jake," he began.   "It's time you started puttin' her first, ahead of yourself.  Heather and the baby, both," he murmured.   "I've never doubted that you love her, but now you're gonna have to do more than that," Johnston insisted.  "You need to be here.   Home.  In Jericho.  The world's a different place, and she and that baby are gonna need everything you can give 'em.  Put them first," he concluded, "And the rest will take care of itself, somehow."

Jake nodded once and sat back in his chair.  He looked overwhelmed, and just the slightest bit relieved.  

Watching his son for a moment, Johnston changed his mind, and poured a splash more into each of their glasses.   This time he handed Jake's to him, then held his own glass up.  Jake hesitated, but finally clinked his glass with his father's.  "To fatherhood," Johnston declared.

"Fatherhood?"

"Yeah," Johnston confirmed, looking Jake in the eye.  "Fatherhood is harder.  But, that's a speech I'll save for another day."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunday, October 21, five years before the bombs

As soon as she opened her front door to him, Jake pressed himself against Heather, kissing her thoroughly.  Greeting her with a breathless "Hey," and a slightly rakish grin was a definite afterthought.

"Hey," Heather returned, with a wide smile and a quiet giggle.  "Wow," she murmured, placing her hands against his chest and then raising herself on tiptoe to brush her lips lightly over his.  "How are you?" she asked, lacing their fingers together and leading him a few steps into the house.

"Now that I'm here with you, I'm fine," he assured her, squeezing her fingers.  "I missed you.  C'm'ere," Jake demanded softly.  Heather, more than willing to do as he asked, insinuated herself into his embrace.  He kissed her again, cupping her head with his hands, and then skimming them over her shoulders, her back, her hips, compelled to touch her.  "I'm gonna miss you so much," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. 

Heather frowned at the reminder that Jake would be leaving for Denver in a few hours.  "I'll miss you, too," she told him.  "I don't know what I'm gonna do with all my suddenly free time," she tried to joke, but it didn't work, and her frown returned.

"Let's not go tonight," Jake suggested.  Heather was still wrapped in his arms, and he tried to get her to move forward, farther into the house, but their legs got tangled together and they had to pull apart to keep from falling over. 

Heather, chuckling softly at their predicament, shook her head.  "We have to go tonight," she told Jake.  "Your Mom already asked me today what I wanted for dinner, and she also told me how much they were looking forward to getting to know me better.  Can't disappoint her now," Heather reasoned.

"My Mom called you today?" Jake asked, pulling back to study her face.  He was not entirely surprised.  His mother was, he knew, quite interested in learning more about Heather, and Gail Green was nothing if not resourceful; she undoubtedly knew exactly who Heather's landlord was, and he didn't think she was above using her position as the mayor's wife in order to garner Heather's phone number. 

"Nah," Heather replied, shrugging.  "I decided to go to church this morning, and since there isn't a Catholic Church in Jericho, I just went to the one on Main Street. Your grandfather spotted me as soon as I walked in, and insisted I sit with him and your parents." 

Jake's expression was the slightest bit stunned, and Heather couldn't help but giggle softly at him.  "He didn't tell me that when he got home," Jake grumbled.

"Well, he told me that you were being a slugabed," Heather informed Jake, her tone teasing.  She led him to the couch in her living room.  "I'm actually glad I ran into them," she continued as they seated themselves, Jake automatically wrapping his arms around Heather.  She let her head fall back against his shoulder, and looked up at him.  "There's enough that's different between a Catholic and a Protestant service that I didn't completely know what I was supposed to do," she explained.  "But Gramps took care of me."

"Good," Jake nodded, expelling a relieved breath.  He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.  "I just - I don't know." 

"Jake, there's absolutely nothing scary about your family," she told him, smiling at him.  "Don't even think they're somehow gonna run me off.  Besides, in the family department, I've got you beat by a mile," Heather joked.  "I've got four brothers - thankfully fourteen hundred miles away, but still."  She mock-shuddered, and Jake chuckled, tightening the arm he had around her.  "Frankly, that you know that and are still here, it's very impressive."

"I think I can handle four brothers fourteen hundred miles away," Jake assured her, playing with her hair absently.  "For you, I could handle four brothers fourteen miles away," he teased.

She laughed.  "Well, don't worry, that's not gonna happen.  I can't see any of my sisters-in-law willingly moving to Kansas.  I love 'em all, but yeah," Heather murmured, twisting in Jake's arms so she could press a soft kiss to his mouth.  "We really do have to go to dinner," she whispered against his lips a few seconds later.

He groaned.  "Are you sure?" Jake asked, the slightest hint of a whine tingeing his voice.

"Yes!" Heather declared, grinning at him, their faces so close together that their noses almost touched. "I've psyched myself up for your mother's inquisition.  She's a very nice person, but I have no doubt that she's quite particular about the kinda girl she wants you bringing home."  Her tone was mostly teasing, though Jake detected a hint of apprehension.  "I ready, so we're not puttin' this off."

"My Mom's gonna end up adoring you," Jake told Heather, kissing the tip of her nose.  He leaned back against the couch, shaking his head.  "And then she's gonna be wondering why the hell you're hanging around with me."

"I don't think so," she sighed, resting her hand on his cheek.  "There's a good chance she'll like me," Heather conceded as he turned his head, pressing his mouth to her palm, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.  "I'm one of those people that parents always like.  But, I'm betting that she still has some pretty high standards of approval," she finished, pushing her hand into his hair.

Jake nodded.  His mother, like all mothers, had always wanted the best of everything for him and his brother.  As far as he was concerned, Heather Lisinski fit that bill in every way possible.  Jake just didn't know how to tell her that, not so that she'd listen anyway.  He settled for kissing her again, instead; always the best option in his opinion.

"We really should go, Jake," Heather murmured, her lips against his jaw, a minute or so later.  "Please?  Okay?" she asked, pulling away from him, her expression somewhat uncertain.

"Okay," he agreed, expelling a deep breath.  They disentangled themselves completely, Jake standing first and then offering his hand to Heather to help her up.  "What's for dinner?" he asked.

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes," she answered.  "Seemed safer than spaghetti or spareribs, which were the other choices."  Heather smiled at Jake.  "I think I disappointed your Dad by not going for the spareribs."

"He'll get over it as soon as he realizes that there'll be leftovers if she makes 'em for just the two of them," Jake predicted.

"Good point," Heather agreed, retrieving her purse and coat.  She grabbed her keys off the hook next to the hall closet, and then led Jake by the hand out the door. 

They had made it five steps down the walk when Heather tried to pull away from Jake.  He held tight to her hand.  "Where'r you going?"

"My car," she answered, trying to tug her hand loose from his, but Jake tightened his grip.  "I'm gonna follow you over," Heather informed him.

"What?  Why?" he demanded.  "C'mon," he said, starting to turn toward his own car, parked at the curb.  "It's two minutes away."

Heather stood her ground, shaking her head.  "Jake, you need to go to Denver," she reminded.

"I'm going to go to Denver."

"Yeah," she agreed with a nod, taking two small steps closer.  "But, if I ride over with you, then you'll have to bring me back, and then it'll be eleven o'clock before you leave for Denver."

"Sounds 'bout right," he agreed, moving towards her so that they stood toe to toe. 

She allowed an exasperated sigh.  "If you leave here at eleven, you won't get to Denver until nearly three in the morning," Heather argued.  "And, that's if you get there at all," she added, momentarily distracted by the way Jake was rubbing his thumb in slow circles over the back of her hand.  "I want you to come back in one piece, not get splattered all over I-70 'cause you fell asleep at the wheel, and some narcoleptic, maniacal truck driver, tryin' to make up time hits you head on."

"Narcoleptic and maniacal?" Jake repeated, chuckling.  "Babe, I don't think I'm that unlucky," he assured her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear with his free hand.  "I know I'm not that unlucky," he insisted.

"Well, that's the extreme situation," Heather acknowledged, trying to keep her expression serious, though in the end she gave into a quiet giggle.  "But, still.  I'd rather you got there at a decent hour.  I want to know you're safe."

She could tell by his expression that Jake didn't really agree with her reasoning, but finally, frowning slightly, he conceded with a nod.  "Fine," he muttered, "We'll do this your way."

He walked her over to her car, opening her door for her, and then handing her in, but only after planting a soft, slow kiss on her mouth.  "Thank you," Heather murmured, looking up at him.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head.  He touched the side of her face, and then took a step back, his hand resting on the door frame.  "You're welcome," he said, closing car door.

* * * * *
 
Jericho was a small town, and it turned out that Heather lived only five blocks from Jake's parents. It took them less than a minute to drive there, Heather following Jake, and then parking behind him at the curb when he pulled off the street in front of a comfortable looking, two-story craftsman house.  She waited for him in her car, fighting the sudden nervous feeling that had taken up residence in her stomach.  This was a big step - though it seemed like she was always taking big steps with Jake - and Heather figured that she was allowed a moment to panic.

Jake opened her door, holding his hand out to her, helping Heather out of the car.  She smiled at him, but he wasn't fooled.  "It's gonna be okay," he told her.  "You're psyched, remember?"

"That I am," Heather agreed, exhaling the breath she'd been holding.  She leaned against Jake for a moment, and he wrapped his free arm around her loosely.  "I'm okay," she insisted a few seconds later, stepping out of the way so that Jake could close the car door.  Breathing deeply, she flashed him a quick grin, and then turned to lock the car.  "Ready," Heather decided.

He reached for her hand again, knitting their fingers together.  "C'mon," Jake invited with a gentle smile that served to distract Heather from the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. 

"This is where you grew up, huh?" Heather asked, taking a closer look at the house as they made their way, somewhat slowly, up the front walk.

"Yep," Jake confirmed.  "That's my old bedroom," he added, stopping to point at the last window on the right, at the front of the house.  "You'll notice the convenient placement of the tree - for sneaking in and out - plus, right below, the prickly bush that stings like you wouldn't believe when you fall into it."

"The voice of experience?" Heather giggled, glancing sideways at Jake.

"Somethin' like that," he shrugged, tightening his hold on her hand.  Jake pressed a quick kiss to her temple.  "C'mon," he repeated, leading her the rest of the way up the walk and onto the porch.  "I'll protect you," he whispered as they mounted the last step, and the front door flew open.

Surprisingly, it was Jake's grandfather, not his mother, who greeted them.  Jake had dropped him off a half hour before, and during the intervening time, Grandpa Green had found himself facing all of Gail's and April's questions about Heather.  He was glad for their arrival, though it felt somewhat like he'd be throwing Heather to the wolves.  "Come in," Grandpa invited, motioning them into the house. 

Heather stepped into the Green house, dropping Jake's hand so she could offer Grandpa Green a quick hug.  "Good evening," she declared cheerfully.

"Good evening to you, too, m' dear," Grandpa chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  He looked back at his grandson, grinning at Jake's affronted expression as he absconded with Heather, leading her through the entry and into the living room.  "I believe you know my son, Johnston," Grandpa began as Johnston Green rose from his seat on the sofa.  "And, this is Jake's brother, Eric."

"It's nice to see you again, Mayor Green," Heather greeted, holding her hand out to Johnston.  After shaking his hand, she turned to Eric.  "And, very nice to meet you."

Jake caught up with his grandfather and Heather just as his mother and sister-in-law came into the living room from the kitchen.  Grandpa Green still had his arm around Heather, so Jake had to settle for standing next to her as Grandpa turned her around in order to continue introductions.  "You've met Jake's mother, yes?" Grandpa said, "And this is April, Eric's wife."

"Mrs. Green," Heather said, smiling at Gail.  "Good to see you."  She glanced at April.  "And, nice to meet you, April."

"We're very happy that you could join us tonight, Heather," Gail declared.  "And now - Eric and Johnston - I need your help in the kitchen."

The two men groaned softly, but followed Gail into the kitchen, Eric protesting that Jake could help too, only to be shushed by his mother.  A few minutes later, the food was all on the table, and Gail was shepherding everyone into their seats.  An extra leaf had been added to the table, allowing room for Heather to sit between Jake and Grandpa Green on one side.  Johnston insisted on saying grace, "For the benefit of those among us who missed church this morning," he informed them all, throwing pointed looks at Jake and Eric.  Finally, with the formalities out of the way, they all dug in.

"So, Heather," Gail Green began after their guest had been allowed to eat three bites of her dinner, "How do you like Jericho?  You moved here this summer?"

Heather swallowed quickly.  "Yes, at the end of July," she answered.  "And, I think I finally have my bearings.  Jericho is a wonderful town."

"Well, I'm sure you're not going to get any argument from the mayor on that point," Grandpa laughed, patting her on the arm.

"Or from her former mayor," Heather suggested, throwing a grateful grin in his direction.  "I really do like living here," she added, looking around the table.  "It's different than home, but I'm starting to settle in and enjoy myself."

"Where's home?" Eric asked, before taking a drink.

"Buffalo," she replied.  "In New York.  Though I have to admit I didn't know there were other places named Buffalo, including in Kansas, until very recently."

"There's a Buffalo, Kansas?" April said, her expression amused.  "Where?  I've lived in Kansas for more than half of my life, and I've never heard of it."

"I have no idea," Heather laughed.  "But the internet says so."

Johnston cleared his throat.  "Southeastern part of the state.  Two hours east of Wichita.  Maybe two, three hundred people."

"No wonder I've never heard of it," April decided, tearing off a piece of her roll and popping it into her mouth.  "So, how in the world did you end up in Jericho?"

Heather glanced at Jake quickly, and then faced April across the table, shrugging.  "I applied for approximately a bazillion teaching positions, and then accepted the one that was farthest from home."  It was the abbreviated version of the tale, but entirely true, and everyone at least chuckled.  "As for how I actually got here to Jericho," she continued, "It was a three day trip in a U-Haul truck with my Dad and baby brother, Mikey.  It shouldn't really take three days to get from there to here, but my Dad insisted on planning our route around stopping for all meals at Cracker Barrel restaurants.  He's addicted to their fried apples."

"I'm rather partial to their chicken salad myself," Gail admitted, smiling.

"Chicken and dumplings," April argued.  "And then you drive yourself crazy playing the golf tee game."

Groaning, Heather shook her head.  "Don't remind me.  I finally just bought one, and then Mikey and I fought over it the rest of the trip.  Of course," she grumbled, throwing Jake a somewhat annoyed look, "Jake found it on my bookshelf the other day, and solved it in two tries.  Got it down to two the first time, and one the second."

"And you didn't kill him?" April joked.  "Now that's showing an incredible amount of restraint.  But that's so Jake," she shrugged.  "In high school he always had the answers to all the math homework without having to actually write out the problems.  Even the teacher hated him.  You do realize that it's very annoying when you do that," she told him, rolling her eyes.

"What?" Jake asked, holding up his hands to signal his innocence.  "It's just logic and basic spatial relations."

"And, extremely annoying," April repeated, chuckling.

"You two met in high school, then?" Heather asked, smiling at Eric and April.  Under the table, Jake reached for her hand, distracting Heather for a second, and earning himself a quick glance and a flash of smile.

"The first time," Eric said, his expression softening when he glanced sideways at his wife.  "Then we ran into each other a couple of years ago, in Topeka."  He laid his hand over the top of hers.  "I was surprised that she remembered me."

April and Eric faced each other, their gazes locking for a long moment while they grinned at one another.  Finally, reluctantly, April looked at Heather.  "I went to high school in Jericho, but only for my junior year," she explained.  "My Mom was hired as the principal, but it didn't take."

"That still burns me up," Gail interjected.  "The school board made the wrong decision, and that's all there is to it."

"Hard to fight Coach Bauer, especially when the basketball team makes it to the sectional championships," Johnston reminded with a sigh. 

"Well, he had it in for Mom from the start, and he won," April agreed, "But it all worked out."  She sighed, explaining to Heather, "We ended up moving back to Topeka.  My Mom's a muckety muck with the Department of Education now, and she met my stepfather, who's a great guy.  Going to three high schools wasn't exactly fun for me," she shrugged, "But it worked out.  And, if nothing else good came of it, at least I recognized Eric Green when he literally tripped in front of me, running through the park."

Eric chuckled, leaning over to kiss April on the temple.  "You're not supposed to tell that part.  Just say, 'We ran into each other in the park.'"

"I have to tell that part," April claimed, grinning at him.  "I see you for the first time in eight years, you fall down at my feet, and I render first aid.  It makes me into quite the romantic heroine," she teased.  "And, it's not that bad for you," April continued.  "You saw me, you lost your head for a moment, and that tree root just popped up out of nowhere.  That's a romantic re-meet."

He conceded her point with a sigh, kissing her again.  "If you say so."

Heather took advantage of the lull in the conversation to snatch another few bites of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  Jake let go of her hand, resting his lightly on her lower thigh so he could draw circles with his index finger on her knee.   Heather looked to her right, but decided that Grandpa Green couldn't see what his grandson was up to.  She glanced at Gail, sitting at the end of the table to Jake's left; she didn't seem to be aware of Jake's actions either.   Heather heaved a sigh of relief.

"You okay?" Jake asked quietly, leaning against her shoulder, while beneath the table, he worked to pull the skirt of her dress up above her knee, and then went back to making his hieroglyphics, now against her bare skin.

"Yes," Heather couldn't help but giggle, her glare fading away as soon as she turned it on him.  "Just fine," she assured him, even as she felt a blush begin to bloom on her cheeks.

"You sure?" he persisted.  The husky tone of his voice, coupled with the slight roughness of his finger as he traced it lazily over her kneecap, sent a delightful shiver through Heather.

All of this was enough to draw Gail and April's attention, and although neither woman said anything, it was obvious to Heather that she and Jake were being observed.  "Very sure," she told Jake, forcing a tight-lipped smile to keep from laughing.

"Eric and April got married just this summer, in June," Gail told Heather, as she stabbed together a forkful of salad.

From the other end of the table, Johnston groaned.  "Here I always thought, once we had the wedding, we could stop talking about the wedding," he grumbled good-naturedly.

Gail dismissed her husband's complaint with a wave.  "We're not going to talk about the wedding -"

"Unless Heather wants to hear all the gory details," April interjected, laughing.

"I was just explaining, that's all," Gail completed. 

Johnston, already involved in a side conversation with his father about an upcoming bow hunting trip they were planning, settled for shaking his head and flashing his wife a knowing grin.

"Congratulations," Heather murmured, offering Eric and April a quick smile.  She glanced sideways at Jake, studying him carefully for a moment.

Jake seemed to recognize the question in her expression.  "I arrested Jonah Prowse three and half days before their wedding," he told her.  He removed his hand from her knee and found hers again, lacing their fingers together, before resting their clasped hands on the table.  "Should have waited a day," he joked.  "One more day, and even April couldn't have made me be in the wedding."

"You know about Jonah Prowse?" Gail asked Heather quietly, her expression serious.  Still, her voice carried down the table, drawing Johnston, Grandpa and Eric's attention from their planning.  Around the table, the Greens looked at each other; they were all very aware of the federal court's gag order in the case against Jonah Prowse.

"She does," Jake answered for Heather, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.  "I told her."

April, it seemed, was the first to digest this piece of information.  "Well, I'll just warn you now, Heather," she grumbled, throwing Jake a mock-glare, "Jake hates wearing a tuxedo." 

Heather blushed prettily.  "I'll take that under advisement," she chuckled uneasily.

"What?  I don't like renting clothes," Jake shrugged, squeezing Heather's hand.  "It's why I don't go bowling, either."

"You gonna come with us next weekend, Jake?" Eric asked then, gesturing at their father and grandfather.  "We won't make you rent anything," he joked.

"Maybe," Jake answered.  "I don't know how long I'll be in Denver, so I don't know," he added.  Jake actually did know that he'd be home on Wednesday night, but as much as he usually enjoyed hunting with his father and grandfather, and even got along well with Eric on those trips, he found that he didn't like the idea of being away from Heather for another two days when he didn't have to be.  "We'll see."

"So, Heather," Gail said, smiling warmly.  "You said that your father and brother came out with you.  Do you just have the one brother?"

She grinned at Jake's mother.  "Actually, I have four brothers.  Three are older - Andrew, Tommy, and John - and then Mikey, who I'm supposed to call Michael, 'cause I promised him for his birthday, but I keep forgetting."

Eric snickered softly, smirking at his brother.  April poked her husband in the side, and he cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious.  "No wonder you moved to Kansas," Eric murmured.

"They were a factor," Heather conceded, nodding.  "Mikey - Michael - I can manage, but the other three are out of control.  I often feel sorry for their wives."

"Well, whatever the reasons, we're all glad you're here," Grandpa declared, the rest of the Greens nodding in agreement.

Jake leaned over, kissing the shell of Heather's ear.  "Thank God you're here."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

Johnston and Jake had both just polished off their drinks when Heather came around the corner and stopped in the doorway.  "What's goin' on in here?" she asked, her expression curious as she looked back and forth between the two of them.  She spotted the whiskey bottle, abandoned on the table and the glasses still clutched in each of their fists.  "Ah, I see.  Cocktail party," Heather joked, stepping behind Jake's chair and laying her hands on his shoulders.
 
"This is a bottle of sixteen year old Bushmills' Irish Whiskey," Johnston protested, his slight grin softening his gruff tone.  "Hardly a cocktail."
 
"My apologies," Heather replied, absently rubbing the back Jake's neck with her thumbs.  "Didn't mean to insult your manly Irish whiskey."
 
Johnston watched his son and daughter-in-law for a moment, noting how Jake leaned back into Heather's touch, how just her presence seemed to ease the strain in his expression.  'Canoodling', his own father had always said in reference to Heather and Jake, and the word was apt, though it didn't capture them completely by any means.  They were physical with each other, yes, but more importantly they were also still so obviously in love with one another that Johnston was almost embarrassed to be in their presence at this moment.  He was definitely the third wheel in his own den.

"Manly's right," Johnston grumbled, his smile growing, still observing them.  He'd told Jake to take care of Heather, and he realized that he had no doubt that Jake would.  He had no doubt that Heather would take care of Jake, too.  "It'll put hair on your chest, darlin'," Johnston added, clearing his throat.
 
Heather laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Jake's head.  "Well, I'm pretty sure I don't need that!" she told Johnston, grinning.
 
"Probably not," he agreed, winking at her.
 
"It's my job to bring you both to dinner," she informed them a second later.  "And, you have to come now," Heather insisted, "Because I'm absolutely starving."
 
"Well then," Johnston acknowledged, standing.  He held his hand out, accepting Jake's glass.  "Dinner it is," he declared, brushing past Heather on his way out of the room, happy to make his escape.  
 
Jake climbed to his feet, moving around the chair and then reaching for Heather, pulling her close.  "I love you," he muttered, burying his head in the crook of her neck.
 
"I love you, too," Heather responded, resting her hand on the back of his head, her fingers combing through his hair.  "Everything okay?" she asked.
 
"Yeah," he assured her, lifting his head. 
 
Heather, getting a better look at him, recognized the stunned, almost confused expression on his face.  "Serious discussion?"
 
He chuckled absently, kissing her on the forehead.  "Yeah," Jake sighed.  "So my mother can get off my back now."
 
"I see," she murmured, pressing her own lips to his jaw.  "Would you like me to tell her that for you?" Heather teased as they separated, still holding hands.
 
"Nah.  She'll know somehow," Jake assured her.  "C'mon, you're starving, remember?"  He led her out of the den and down the hall to the dining room where the rest of the family was already gathered for dinner.  "Sorry we're late," he apologized, escorting Heather around to the far side of the table, and pulling her chair out for her.

Once they were both seated, Johnston, clearing his throat, addressed them all.  "Tonight, given everything that's happened today, I think it'd be appropriate to say grace."  Gail, Heather and April nodded their agreement, and then around the table they all joined hands, bowing their heads.  "Dear God," Johnston began, "Tonight we are grateful that we are here, together and safe, as a family.  We've lost buildings, but no lives, and for that we are thankful.  We ask you to be with those who are injured, and with those who have lost homes and livelihoods.  We thank you for this meal, and ask that you bless the hands that prepared it.  Amen."   

Dutifully, they all repeated Johnston's 'Amen'.  Sighing, Gail looked around the table, catching the eye of each family member as they passed dishes back and forth, and poured glasses of water for one another.  "You know me, I'm always wanting to have the whole family around the table, to have everyone home," she told them, smiling.

"Careful what you wish for," Jake quipped, shaking his head.  "You already have April and Eric moved in, and we might not be far behind," he said, spooning creamed corn onto his plate.  "Sixteen miles round trip to the ranch is turning out to be a luxury right now," he reminded.

"Well, you know you're always welcome," Gail declared, dishing up her share of the canned peaches.  "It'd be like Christmas to have you all here."

Heather swallowed the mouthful of cracker she'd taken, laughing.  "Like? That is Christmas," she reminded, starting to cough.  Jake patted her on the back.  

"Yeah, last year you made us all spend the night Christmas Eve," April added, clarifying for Heather, before taking her first bite of dinner. 

"That's right," Jake agreed.  "And, it might be Christmas for you," he told his mother, winking at her, "But it might just kill Dad."

"Why do you think it'd bother me?" Johnston asked, flashing them a devilish grin.  "I wouldn't be the one sharin' a bathroom with three other adults."

April, Eric, Heather and Jake all groaned, causing Johnston's grin to grow.  "If you guys move in, you get the downstairs bathroom," Eric insisted, looking at his brother.  "We were here first."

"It's delicious, Gail," April said then, loading up her fork.

"Thanks," Gail murmured.  "Though, Heather helped, too."

"That's why it all looks like I cooked it," Heather joked, and they all laughed.  Under the table, Jake found her hand and squeezed it affectionately.  "Really, all I did was open cans and take direction.  But I have to agree, this is a miracle, Gail, given what you had to work with."

"Yeah, who knew that instant potatoes could taste like anything," Eric argued.

"Well, things will get better after we get real food again," Gail assured them.

Except for the sound of cutlery striking against dishes, there was no sound for a long moment as they all devoted themselves to eating the bland meal that had been assembled from those never used packages and cans found in the back of every pantry.  "Filet mignon and bleu cheese," Johnston announced, breaking the silence and startling them all.  He set his fork down on the edge of his plate, and looked around the table.  "Don't pretend you haven't thought about it," he admonished.

Jake was the first to catch on, and the first to respond.  "Cheeseburger and French fries," he offered, grinning and glancing at his father, catching his eye.  Johnston acknowledged him with his own grin and the slightest of nods. 

"Corned beef and cabbage with that spicy mustard," Gail declared next, groaning quietly at the thought.  There was such a look of longing on her face that everyone laughed, the stress and worries of the day disappearing from their features, if only for the moment.

"I could go for a slice of Mom's blueberry pie," Eric murmured, earning himself a smile from his mother.

"Fried chicken," April suggested next, a soft smile creeping onto her lips.  "With some fresh corn on the cob."    She held up a forkful of the creamed corn, and then let it drop back on her plate.  "So much better than this," April muttered, sparing her mother-in-law a guilty glance.  "No offense."

Gail held up a hand, waving away April's concern.  "None taken," she promised.  "Well, Heather," she continued, looking at her other daughter-in-law, "What's yours?"

"My list's long," Heather warned.

"Uh-uh," Johnston told her, shaking his head.  "Everyone plays."

"Okay," Heather chuckled.  "Moo shu pork with extra plum sauce," she began.  "And, bananas.  I'd kill for a just ripe banana - ooh!  With peanut butter."  Kitty-corner across the table, April started to laugh, followed by Gail on April's right.  Grinning, Heather continued. "Pierogis, especially the ones my grandmother used to make."  She looked around, noting that Jake and Johnston were now both laughing silently.  "And, pistachio pudding," she completed.

"Honey, if there was any doubt, I think you just settled it," Gail declared, still laughing.  "You are definitely pregnant."

"Trust me, she's pregnant," Jake said, smiling softly.  He glanced at Heather, catching her eye, and then under the cover of the table, he laid his hand unerringly over the slight swell of their child.  "We've got confirmation of that," he added, looking at his mother, and then at April.

"You're - you're pregnant?  For real?" Eric questioned, his forehead wrinkled with confusion. 

Heather looked around the table, her gaze settling finally on Eric.  "Yeah," she confirmed.  "I thought that you knew that," she added, a few seconds later, her expression beginning to mimic his.  "Didn't you tell him?" Heather asked April.

"Doctor/patient confidentiality," April reminded with a shrug.  "You never said that I could."

"And neither of you?" Heather asked, glancing at Gail and Jake.  They both shook their heads 'no'. 

She looked at Johnston next, but didn't even get to ask her question before he answered her.  "When have I ever been the one t' break news like that in this family?" he snorted.

"Eric, I'm sorry," Heather breathed, turning to face her brother-in-law, sitting directly across the table.  "I just thought you knew already."  She held her hands up, indicating her own bewilderment with the situation.  "I mean, we all talk about it."

"What the hell were you thinking, then?" Eric demanded, suddenly and obviously angry.  "You're pregnant and you went into a friggin' burning building!  How stupid - what were you thinking?"

"Eric!" Johnston and Jake spoke the rebuke simultaneously, Johnston's voice louder, Jake's more threatening.  Jake glanced at Heather.  She looked stunned, and was biting her lip, no doubt to keep from crying.  "This isn't any of your business, Eric," Jake warned him.

"Well, I went in after her, so I think that makes it my business," Eric argued.  He arched back in his chair, pushing away from the table.  "You can't tell me that you're okay with this, Jake.  If my wife -"

"I'm sure we'd all love to hear what you think you'd do if this were April," Jake interrupted, his tone sarcastic.  "And, yeah, turns out I am okay with this," he said, reaching again for Heather's hand under the table.  He gripped her fingers tightly, continuing. "I know why Heather did what she did, and I may not like that she did it, but I understand it, and above all, it still doesn't involve you."

No one said anything, just watched each other around the table, the awkwardness and tension of the moment reflected on all of their faces. Eric and Jake glared openly at one another.  Finally, under the pressure of Gail's insistent gaze, Johnston cleared his throat.  "I think most would agree, on the surface of things, there's not a lot that we Green men have in common.  But," he sighed, catching first Eric's eye, and then Jake's, "We do share in this: we love strong women."  Johnston held up his water glass.  "To the strong Green women," he proclaimed.

Again, Jake was the first to respond.  He picked up his own glass, and looking in turn at his wife, his mother, and his sister-in-law, toasted them.  "To the strong Green women."

All eyes fell on Eric.  Begrudgingly, he pulled his chair back up to the table, and retrieved his glass.  "To the strong Green women."  Eric's still stormy gaze fell on his sister-in-law.  "Heather, I apologize," he mumbled.  "And, congratulations, on the baby."

"Thank you," she nodded after a moment, squeezing Jake's hand, hoping to telegraph to him that she was okay. 

"Well," Gail said, expelling a deep breath, "I'm sure I saw two, maybe three, boxes of instant pistachio pudding in the back of the pantry earlier."  She smiled at Heather.  "As of this moment, they have your name on them."

"Thanks," Heather murmured quietly.

"And, you know," Gail added, "I think I need to amend my list.  Chocolate cake," she declared.  "Chocolate cake with whipped cream."

"Nah, peanut butter pie," Jake interjected.

"Peach cobbler," Johnston suggested.

"Peach cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream," April offered, earning a wide grin from her father-in-law.

"Blueberry pie," Eric said softly, repeating his earlier selection. 

"Gail's blueberry pie is good," Heather agreed, "But, I still want my pudding!"

The friction hadn't completely dissipated from the room, but they all laughed at Heather's declaration, and then began talking all at once, each one arguing the merits of his or her favorite dessert.  This continued for a few moments until there was a perfunctory knock at the front door, and then Stanley Richmond slipped inside.

"Excuse me," he called out, "But, they're getting a feed at Bailey's."

Jake and Johnston were both up and out of their seats immediately, Johnston moving across the room.  "Let's turn on the TV," he ordered.

"Nah," Stanley contradicted, shaking his head.  "They're the only ones pickin' it up.  I think it's a satellite feed from DC."

"C'mon," Jake urged Heather, holding his hand out to her.  "Mom," he continued, looking at Gail.  "We need to go."

Abandoning their meager dinner, the Green women pushed back from the table, Gail and Heather following Jake and Johnston into the hall to retrieve coats from the closet.  Eric, however, was still seated.

"You're coming, aren't you?" April asked, looking back at him, ready to follow the rest of the family.

Eric looked startled by the question, but he nodded, scrambling to his feet. "Yeah," he agreed, blowing out the candle, still burning in the middle of the table.  "Of course."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Like Heather's Dad, I have planned a trip around eating at Cracker Barrel Restaurants. My own Dad, however, is all about the fried okra.

Link to the golf tee game: http://shop.crackerbarrel.com/online/shopping/Product.asp?cat%5Fid=4&sku=606154&mscssid=Q7QUX9EK5PEW9HP38E4NAFHCQGB572AE

Different Circumstances: Part 5D of ? by Marzee Doats

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunday, October 21 five years before the bombs

When dinner was over everyone, including Heather, much to Gail's chagrin, had pitched in to clear the table, accomplishing the job in less than two minutes.   Gail had reclaimed her kitchen then, ordering everyone but Eric and April into the living room.  Eric hadn't really minded being recruited to help for a second time, at least not until April had shot his mother a significant look, mentioned "that other thing," and had disappeared out the door leading into the hallway.   Stuck, he decided to accept his fate gracefully, and went to work putting a scoop of ice cream on top of slices of still-warm apple pie as his mother dished each one up.

In the living room, Jake had seated himself and Heather on the sofa, his father and grandfather choosing the club chairs on either side of the couch.   Johnston surprised Jake by starting the conversation, asking Heather about the history project that Grandpa Green was assisting with.  She launched into an enthusiastic and detailed description of the series of presentations Grandpa was making to her class.   It was all quite interesting - Johnston had a love of history he'd learned at his father's knee - but what intrigued him even more was his son's expression and attitude.   His father had told them on Friday night that Jake was smitten, and that was certainly evident.  Jake was actually smiling, and he seemed to hang on Heather's every word.   Johnston glanced at his father, exchanging bemused and knowing looks.

Eric and Gail came into the living room, each bearing a tray, while Heather was still in the middle of her explanation, Johnston asking a pertinent question every now and again, and both Grandpa and Jake throwing in their own observations on occasion.   Eric distributed plates of pie a la mode, while Gail passed around cups of coffee.

"Where's April?" Jake asked as they started to eat.  Her pie and coffee had been left on the coffee table and she was nowhere to be found.  

"She'll be here in a moment," Gail assured, thanking Eric as he brought a chair in from the dining room for her to sit on. 

Turning around, Eric spotted April in the entry, her arms full of photo albums.  He started to laugh, drawing Jake's attention, while he continued on into the dining room to secure a chair for himself.   April came into the living room, grinning widely.

"You are not," Jake protested when he saw her, a note of pure panic sounding in his tone.  "April, you wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would," April contradicted, chuckling.  She moved to the couch, seating herself next to Heather.   "I love you, Jake," she told him, peering around Heather to offer him a wicked smile.  "But now it's time for a little payback," she declared.

"Payback for what?" Jake demanded, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

April allowed an annoyed huff.  "Our honeymoon?  Ring a bell?" she asked, rolling her eyes.  

"What about your honeymoon?" Jake asked.  "I upgraded your plane tickets," he argued, affecting an expression of offended innocence.   "I was trying to be nice."

"You had us arrested by your buddy at Customs," Eric interjected, taking a bite of pie. 

"You were detained, not arrested," Jake claimed, sitting forward on the couch.  He placed his coffee cup on the table.   "And, that was only so he could get your tickets switched."

"He put Eric in handcuffs!" April cried, glaring at Jake.   "He took us into a windowless room and started asking questions."

Heather looked back and forth between Jake and April.  It was obvious from her expression that she didn't know what to think, or how to take their argument.   "Are you serious?" she asked.

Jake shook his head.  "Don totally improvised with the interrogation room," he assured them.   He glanced at April.  "And, I told him, if he went with handcuffs, Eric only."  He paused, looking at Heather.   "It's not nearly as bad as they're making it sound," he told her.  "Just a little joke.  I sent a nice gift basket, too."

"You coulda just vandalized my car like a normal person," Eric snorted, finishing off his coffee.

"Didn't know I'd be around," Jake replied, forcing a grin.  "And, I had to do something."

April's eyes widened with understanding, and she slumped a little in her seat.  "Well, now you're taking all the fun out this," she complained, frowning.

"Fine," Jake conceded a moment later, groaning softly. "Go ahead.  You can have your payback."   His gaze locked with Heather's, and he teased, "But since you're getting to look at my naked baby pictures, I definitely get to look at yours."

"Too bad mine are all in Buffalo," she countered, laughing and, to Jake's surprise, without blushing.

"Hey," he argued, shrugging, "I can go to Buffalo."

Gail glanced at her husband.  She could tell he was hiding a smile behind his coffee cup.  They were all smiling actually, watching Jake and Heather who, at that moment, only had eyes for each other.  

"Well," April began then, "I found Jake and Eric: The First Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days, Jake and Eric: The Toddler Years, and because there's actually a couple of pictures of me in here, Jake and Eric: Jericho High."  She handed one of the albums to Heather.  "Those are my titles," she explained, placing the other two on the floor at her feet.

Gail laughed, nodding her agreement.  "Yes, I was doing well just to get the pictures into the right year's album."

"You really should narrate, Gail," April suggested, moving over as far into the corner of the couch as possible.  "C'mon," she invited, pulling gently on Heather's arm, getting her to scoot over as well.   "There's room," April insisted, pointing to the eight or nine inches of couch space that now separated Jake and Heather.  Gail managed to squeeze in just before her son thought to move over himself.   Smiling at Heather, she reached over and opened the album.

The first picture was of a younger, radiant, and very pregnant Gail Green standing in front of the house.  "I was at eight months," she explained to Heather, "And everywhere I went, people would say, 'Haven't you had that baby yet?'   I was ready to punch the next person who said it," she admitted, chuckling.  "Of course, what none of us realized was that I was carrying twins."

Heather looked over Gail at Jake, raising an eyebrow.  He hadn't told her that he and his brother were twins.   Jake offered her a tight-lipped smile, hoping she could read the apology in his eyes.  She studied him for another moment, and then taking a deep breath, nodded almost imperceptibly, before glancing next at his mother, grinning.   "That must have been a surprise," she declared.

"Well, you could've knocked me over with a feather, that's for sure," Johnston chuckled, leaning forward to set his empty plate and cup down on the coffee table.   "I got the news from Jenny Farrow, Gail's roommate from nursing school.  It took her a good five minutes to convince me she wasn't joking.   Finally had to drag me down to the nursery to see for myself."

"I remember gettin' that phone call," Grandpa interjected.  "You told me that you'd gotten a two-for-one deal.   Took a minute to figure out whatcha meant."

They all laughed at that, and Gail turned the page to a set of family pictures in the hospital, showing a tired, but happy Gail, a younger, beardless, beaming Johnston, and their two swaddled infant sons.   "Which is which?" Heather asked, examining the picture closely.

"Johnston's holding Jake," Gail smiled, running her finger over the picture.  "And, I've got Eric."   She looked at Heather.  "They didn't look alike really, even as babies, but for the first six months, I tied a red ribbon on Jake's leg, and a yellow one on Eric's, just in case."

"Wait a minute," Eric protested.  "You weren't sure you could tell your kids apart?"

"It was a little harder when you were both little, bald Buddhas," his mother replied.  "Once they got hair, it was no problem," she explained, glancing between Heather and April.   "Jake's came in dark from the start, and Eric's was light.  Besides, the ribbons were always more for everybody else.   When someone would ask who they were holding, I'd tell 'em to check his leg."  Gail flipped through the next few pages quickly; there was a series of additional hospital pictures: the boys in the nursery, the boys with both sets of grandparents, Johnston being taught to burp one baby while Gail fed a bottle to the other.  

"Here we are," she proclaimed, turning past another few pages.  "The pictures that Jake doesn't want you to see, Heather," Gail chuckled.   Next to her, Jake groaned, prompting Gail to pat his knee absently.  "Though I don't know what's embarrassing about this at all," she added.   "I've never seen a baby bottom picture that wasn't adorable."

"And, I do believe that's a dimple on little baby Jake's behind," April crowed, leaning over Heather to peer closely at the photo.   She looked up, grinning at Jake.  "Just my professional, medical opinion."

Grandpa, Johnston, and Eric all broke out in loud guffaws of laughter.  "April, I love you," Eric exclaimed, wiping his eyes as he continued to laugh.

"Love you, too," she told him.  "And, I have to say, your baby tushie is pretty darn cute, too."

"I'm with you, Mrs. Green," Heather said, grinning at Gail.  "All baby bottoms are adorable."

"How about we look at the next page?" Jake suggested, reaching over his mother. 

Heather, however, pulled the album out of his range, holding it against her chest.  "Not so fast," she teased.

Still chuckling, Johnston pulled himself up out of his chair, and began gathering abandoned dessert dishes onto the trays Gail and Eric had brought out.   Shaking his head, Jake also climbed to his feet, moving to assist his father.  "I don't think I need to be here for this," he muttered, glancing at his mother, before following his father back into the kitchen.

Gail looked at Heather, whose expression had turned uncertain.  She patted the young woman on the leg.   "It's okay," she assured her quietly.  She watched her son push his way through the kitchen door.  "That, I think, was mostly for show."

"Okay," Heather nodded slowly.  She expelled the breath she'd been holding, and smiled at Gail.   "They were adorable," she declared softly, turning the page.

April, glanced at Eric, now conversing quietly with his grandfather, and then at Heather.  "They both still are," she whispered, grinning.

The three women soon exhausted the first album, laughing at the photos of Eric and Jake covered in frosting at their first birthday party.  April retrieved the next volume - The Toddler Years, as she'd termed it - and handed it to Heather.  Gail narrated as Heather paged through the album.   They looked at pictures of the boys getting their first hair cuts, playing on the swings at the park, running through the sprinklers, visiting with Santa, and enjoying their first snowball fight with Dad on the front lawn.

Eric called April over for a moment, wrapping one arm around her when she joined him, and then pulling her down, giggling, onto his lap.  Gail smiled at their antics before turning her attention back to Heather, who was studying two pictures, side by side, of nearly four-year old Jake.   In the first, he was obviously happy, a joyful grin on his face; in the second, his expression had turned sober, a pout replacing the grin.

"That's Jake right there," Heather murmured, smiling to herself.  She glanced at Gail, blushing softly.   "So much fun to be with, but so serious at times, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."  She shook her head.   "And, it was already there, a part of him, when he was four."

"We were at a family reunion," Gail recalled, studying the young woman next to her carefully.  While it was obvious that Jake was quite taken with Heather, Gail was still surprised that he'd revealed so much of himself to her, already.   Jake tended to be emotionally guarded, even with those who'd known and loved him all his life.  Heather, still smiling, looked at Gail, who smiled in return, continuing her story.

"The O'Briens.  There'r a lot more of us O'Briens than there are Greens, so on my side of the family, we actually have enough for a reunion," she explained.   "I remember, Jake ran up to me, and he was so excited, grinning away.  I couldn't help but take his picture.   Then it turned out he wanted to go with some of his older cousins down to the lake, fishing.  They were only nine and ten, and I wouldn't let Jake go with them alone.  He tried to bargain," Gail recalled, smiling.  "Said he'd be good, and feed the dog, and finish all his dinner even if it was tuna noodle casserole.   Jake's never liked tuna casserole," she confided with a sideways glance at Heather.  "But I wouldn't let him go, and boy, did that lower lip come out then."   Gail nodded, looking back down at the picture.  "I guess that would be the weight of the world when you're not quite four."   

"No doubt," Heather agreed, chuckling self-consciously.  She shook her head, her gaze still focused on the two photos.   Without thinking, she traced one finger over the happy picture, and then over the serious one.  "Jake," she whispered softly to herself.

Gail couldn't resist putting her arm around the younger woman and giving her a quick hug.  Withdrawing her arm, she threw Heather an appraising, though friendly look.   "That's our Jake," she agreed.  Heather blushed again, but met Gail's eye, offering a gentle smile.  

April, giggling, pulled herself out of Eric's lap.  She laid her hand on the back of his neck, and then leaned back down to kiss him quickly before, still laughing, returning to join the two other women on the couch.   "What'd I miss?" she asked, grinning at them both.

"Family reunion pictures," Gail answered, reaching down to turn the page.  "Jake did get to the lake, later in the afternoon," she told Heather.   "We all went down, and Jake and Eric both caught their first fish."  The next few pictures bore this out.   There was a photo of both boys, standing on either side of their kneeling father, all three displaying their fishing poles, then a series of action shots, and finally individual pictures of Jake and Eric, grinning widely, each displaying his fish for the camera.

They continued to look through the album, smiling at the photos of Jake and Eric learning to ride horses and suffering through the chicken pox.   They came across one of Eric, covered in head to toe mud, proudly offering a bouquet of daisies to the camera.  "I love this picture," April murmured.   "It's too adorable for words.  I have a copy of it on my dresser," she explained to Heather, throwing her mother-in-law a quick smile.   "Gail knew I liked it, and sent it to me as an engagement present.  Probably seems a little odd, but I love it.  Thank you," she told Gail.   "Again."

"I don't think that's odd at all," Heather murmured, shrugging.  "It's sweet," she added, smiling shyly.

They finished the second album, and April handed the last one to Heather.  "Jericho High," she declared, as Jake, closely followed by his father, came back into the living room, drying his hands on his pants.

"I need to take off soon," he announced, returning to the couch.  "Someone thinks it's important that I'm tucked safely into my hotel room at a decent hour tonight," Jake said, teasing Heather.   "Apparently I need to avoid maniacal truckers."

April and Gail exchanged a quick, though significant look.  The dynamic between Jake and Heather was interesting, indeed.  "Well then," April declared, "We better move straight to the prom pictures."  She started to flip through the album, allowing Heather only quick glimpses of the pictures - Jake in a Jericho High baseball uniform, Eric receiving an award, both boys posing in front of their new-to-them cars - as she turned past them.   "Ah, here we are," April said, sitting back.  "Junior Prom.  And, may I point out," she added, "Jake is wearing a tux."

"Miracle of miracles," Gail declared, rolling her eyes.  "I took all three boys to get their tuxedoes, and that was the day, in all my life, that I came closest to just leaving them on the side of the road to fend for themselves.   Even Stanley, though he was certainly better behaved than the two of you," she accused, throwing each of her sons a disgusted look.  "To hear them carry on," Gail told Heather, "You would've thought I was committing actual torture."

Heather glanced at Jake, who shrugged at her in return, but rather wisely chose not to argue this particular point with his mother.  She offered him an amused grin, and then looked down, finally, at the photo album in her lap.  There were two pages worth of posed pictures, all taken in the Green living room.  The first was a photo of three couples: Jake stood behind Emily Sullivan, his hand on her waist; Eric had his arm around a teenage girl whom Heather didn't recognize as anyone she'd met in Jericho; and to Heather's surprise, April was with Stanley Richmond.  "You went to the prom with Stanley?"

"I did," April agreed, chuckling.  "Because he asked me," she added, throwing Eric a pointed look.   This was apparently an old joke between them now, and Eric settled for giving her an apologetic shrug.  "We had a very nice time.  You know Stanley?"

Heather nodded.  "And, I know Emily.  Some.  We went through the whole HR process together at the school district, and were in the same mandatory training class in August.   I just don't know Eric's date."

"Wendy Thom," Eric supplied.  "Literally the girl next door," he chuckled, pointing with his thumb to the west.   "Isn't Wendy in Denver now?" he asked his mother, who nodded in confirmation.

"So, you know Stanley through Jake?"

"Through Bonnie," Heather clarified. "And now through Jake.  Bonnie comes to my classroom when her own class goes to gym or music, anything that she can't participate in.   They were shunting her off to the library, which I thought was awful.  So, I called Stanley up and made him agree that she could come into my classroom."   She shrugged, smiling softly.  "It's working out really well.  My kids are now all competing to get to be in Bonnie's group when she's there, and it seems to be helping her confidence, especially talking to people."

"That's wonderful," Gail decided, smiling at Heather.  "We've known Bonnie all her life," she sighed, "Helped Stanley out with her, when we could, since their parents were killed.  Thank you for taking an interest in her."

"No need to thank me," Heather replied.  "Bonnie's great.  I love having her around.   And besides, now when I run into Stanley in town, he feels obligated to buy me a cup of coffee, and then we have a 'big brother - sorta teacher' conference."

Gail and April both laughed at that, while Jake started to stand.  "I really should hit the road," he told them.

"And, I should go, too," Heather added.  "I have an early staff meeting."

Everyone stood up then, Heather moving past Gail to stand next to Jake.  Johnston and Eric both stepped forward, offering their hands to Heather, and wishing her a good evening.   Grandpa Green hugged her, and then Gail followed suit.    "You have no idea how glad I am to meet you," April said, smiling.   "And, don't go yet," she added, seeing Jake take Heather's hand and tug on it gently.  "I want to give you my phone number.   Maybe, if Jake goes hunting with the rest of the guys next weekend, we can grab dinner on Saturday night."

"I thought you were working next weekend," Eric said, stepping behind April to wrap his arm around her shoulders. 

She looked back at him, shaking her head.  "I'm working Thursday morning to Saturday morning.  So, I'm gonna end up sleeping most of Saturday," she reminded  April, Heather had learned, was finishing up her residency at the hospital in Rogue River, eager for the day that she'd open a general practice in Jericho, out of the town's Medical Center.   April kissed Eric on the cheek.  "Go hunting," she told him.  "There's no reason for you to stay home, just to watch me sleep."

"Well, you're cute when you sleep," Eric grinned at her, earning himself a kiss on the mouth.

"Go hunting," April repeated.

Jake let go of Heather's hand, and glanced at his mother, tilting his head to signal that he wanted to talk with her.  Heather went into the kitchen with April to find paper, and Jake and Gail stepped into the entry.   "So?" he asked her, looking back into the living room, where his father and Eric had started straightening the room, returning pieces of furniture to their original positions.   "What do you think?"

His mother smiled at him.  "I don't think it matters what I think."  Gail reached up, brushing his too long hair out of his eyes.   "You like her, that's all that matters."

He sighed, grinning.  "I do like her, a lot.  I want you to like her, too."

"I do, sweetheart," Gail assured, kissing Jake on the cheek.  "And, you need to get a hair cut."

"When I get back home," he grumbled, his smile widening as Heather came out of the kitchen, heading in his direction.  He held his hand out to her.   "Hey."

"Hey," she smiled in return, her fingers brushing his before she wrapped her arm around his.  Heather faced Gail.   "Thank you again for dinner, Mrs. Green.  Everything was lovely."

With that, the couple disappeared out the front door.  Gail and April waited approximately ten seconds before they rushed to the bay window in the living room, and worked together to very carefully crack one shutter open so they could see the street in front of the house, and more importantly, Jake and Heather as they went down the walk, Jake escorting Heather to her car.

"What are you two up to?" Eric laughed, crossing the room to join them.

"We want to see what happens," April whispered in return.

"I'll tell you what's gonna happen," Grandpa chuckled, lifting himself out of his chair.  He followed Eric's path, coming over to join the others as they peered out the window to spy on Heather and Jake.   "Canoodling."

Johnston settled himself back in his chair, and crossing his arms, stared at their backs, while Gail, April, Eric and his father all jockeyed for a place to stand at the window and peer out.   "You know, you're all going to Hell for this."

Gail looked back over her shoulder, chuckling.  "Well, I doubt this will be the deciding factor for any of us," she told him.

"Huh," April exclaimed then, leaning back into Eric's embrace.  "Go Heather!"

"Canoodling, I tell ya," Grandpa declared cheerfully.

Johnston snorted. "Dollars to doughnuts, Jake knows you're all watchin' him."  He pulled himself out of his chair, sighing deeply, once again drawing Gail's attention from the happenings outside.

"Harmless fun," she told him, holding her hand out to him.

"Well, if you're all gonna go to Hell, I might as well join ya," he said, winking at his wife.

* * * * *

Once the door closed behind them, Jake led Heather two steps out onto the porch before drawing her into his arms and kissing her slowly.  "You survived?" he asked.

"No sweat," she agreed.  "You?  I'm sorry we kinda ganged up on you," Heather added, wrinkling her nose.

Jake shrugged.  "I have to admit, I didn't fully consider the implications of introducing you to my Mom and April," he chuckled, lifting her hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on her palm.  "But it's fine.  I'll survive.  C'mon," he ordered, grinning and tugging on her hand. 

They walked down the steps, their hands joined.  Heather moved closer to Jake, leaning against his shoulder.  "What I didn't think I was going to survive was you drawing on my leg during dinner," she admitted, turning her head so that her face was pressed against his upper arm, her warm breath dampening the sleeve of his shirt.  "You made it very hard for me to concentrate," she complained, giggling.

"I wasn't drawing," he told her, stopping in the middle of the walk. "I was writing you a message."

"Really?" she questioned, watching him carefully.  "What was the message?" Heather demanded.

"Uh-uh," Jake denied, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling Heather against him.  He kissed her on the forehead.  "You're just gonna have to pay closer attention next time," he teased.

Heather groaned.  "Jake," she muttered, her tone bordering on petulant.  He started to laugh when she actually stomped her foot.

"Fine," he decided, letting her go, and then taking her hand into his own.  "Look at me, not your hand," he instructed, turning Heather's hand over, and then beginning to draw on her palm.  She did as he asked, watching him, their gazes locked.  Jake's grin showed just exactly how pleased with himself he was, and Heather felt her own smile start to grow as she interpreted the letters he was scrawling out on her skin.  'JG + HL' he wrote.

"That's very third grade of you," she teased.  "Well, maybe more like fifth or sixth," Heather decided, "But you probably liked girls earlier than most."

"Nah," he argued, shaking his head.  "My Dad built us a tree house in the backyard when I was seven.  Supposedly we helped, but it was really all his work.  Eric, Stanley and I made a pact: it was our clubhouse, and no girls allowed, no exceptions," Jake told her.  "That pact stood until the sixth grade, and it was Stanley who broke it first.  He got a huge crush on Lucy Wharton," Jake chuckled.

"I see," she nodded.  "You know, you forgot to write 'forever' and then put a big heart around it," she said, holding his gaze with her own, feeling very bold.

They studied each other silently for a long moment, and then Jake nodded, finally throwing her a crooked smile.  "Um, you know, you're right, I did," he agreed, beginning again to write on her hand with his finger.  He'd managed to trace out '4eve' before Heather launched herself at him, throwing her free arm around his neck, clinging to him, kissing him thoroughly.  They didn't stop until they had to, pulling a few inches apart, both gasping for breath and grinning.  "Heather," Jake murmured, kissing her on the forehead.

"Jake," she returned with a contented sigh.  "You know, you didn't tell me that you and your brother were twins," Heather prompted a few seconds later, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together.

"I didn't tell you I had brown hair, or that I'm six feet tall, either," Jake argued, shaking his head.  "And I know that's a crap excuse," he shrugged, "But it's really like that, just a characteristic."  He looked up, over Heather and back at the house, squinting for a moment.  "Don't look, but we're being watched," Jake told Heather, rolling his eyes.  "The shutter on one of the windows is halfway open.  They were all closed when we were inside."

"Stop trying to change the subject, Jake," she complained with a smile, squeezing his hand.

He chuckled.  "I'm not, I swear.  Somebody's watching us, and I am sorry I didn't tell you beforehand that Eric and I are twins."  Jake sighed and, pursing his lips, pulled on her hand.  "C'mon," he insisted, leading her the rest of the way down the front walk.  They didn't stop until they had reached Heather's car, and then he backed her up against it.  "Now, it's at least harder for them to watch," he reasoned, leaning into her.

"Does it really matter?" Heather asked.  "It's a public street, anyone driving down it can see us," she reminded as Jake brushed his lips over hers.

"Okay," Jake agreed, offering her a lopsided grin.  He didn't say anything else, and Heather didn't either.  He waited a long moment, watching her carefully.  Exhaling deeply, he extracted his hand from Heather's, ran it through his hair nervously, and then cupped her chin, placing a series of soft kisses on her mouth. 

"I'm three minutes older than Eric, and he's the only person in the world that cares," Jake began quietly.  "And, if I could give him those three minutes, I would.  I don't want them.  But that's the difference between being Johnston Green, Junior or being just Eric Green."

"He's named after your grandfather, that's nothing to be ashamed of," Heather murmured.

"I know," Jake shrugged.  "And - I don't know.  Eric and I, we shared a room until we were ten.  Bunk beds.  The whole time we were growing up, we did the same things, at the same time.  We fought all the time, but if anyone else went after him, even Stanley..." Heather nodded, and he broke off, not bothering to complete his thought.   Jake sighed.  "Right now - today - we're actually getting along," he chuckled grimly, "But that'll change soon enough.  It always does.  I know everything about him, yet half the time, it's like I don't know him at all."

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Heather couldn't help but reach up and cup Jake's cheek with her hand.  He turned into her touch, bringing his own hand up to hold hers in place, closing his eyes.  "It's okay, Jake," Heather whispered, running her thumb gently over his jaw.  "You don't have to -"

"I want to," he interrupted, his eyes opening, allowing Heather to once again see the conflict within them.  "I - I only know what it's like to have Eric for a brother.  We were born at the same time, and that's supposed to mean something, but I've never really figured out what."  Jake shrugged, trying but failing to smile.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you.  I'm sorry I let you get surprised by that."

"It's okay," she repeated, smiling at him softly.  Heather stood on tiptoe, pressing herself into Jake.  He clutched her to himself, kissing the top of her head and then burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

They held onto one another for a long moment, until Jake, reluctantly, raised his head.  "I should go," he muttered, taking a step back to check his watch in the weak light thrown off by the street lamp overhead.  "It's still gonna be nearly midnight before I get there."

Heather nodded.  "You need to go then," she agreed, smiling at him, her eyes suddenly and suspiciously bright.  She squeezed his hand.  "Call me when you get there."

"What about your early morning meeting?" Jake asked, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her.  "Or, did you lie to my mother?" he teased.

"I didn't lie," Heather replied, giggling.  "I really do have to be at school at six-thirty tomorrow.  But, I still want you to call me," she continued, kissing him on the cheek.  "I'll be in bed, but I can answer the phone."

"In bed, huh?" he grinned.

"In my flannel pajamas, no less," she laughed.  "I just totally blew the image you had in mind, huh?"

Jake shrugged, chuckling.  "I can work with flannel," he assured her.  "But what I want to know is, if you're in flannel in October, what're you planning to do in January?" he asked, threading his hand through her hair.  "It's cold in January."

'Invite you over,' Heather thought, wishing she could bring herself to say it; she settled for saying, "Add a blanket."

"Have your keys?" Jake prompted then with a sigh.  Heather nodded, fishing them out of her purse.  She unlocked her car and opened the door before turning back around to face Jake.  "I'm gonna miss you," he said, frowning.  He cupped her chin, and then pressed his mouth to hers, tasting his mother's apple pie on her lips.  Jake pulled away, stepping back.  "I'll call you, and I'll see you Wednesday night."

"Okay," Heather agreed, forcing a smile.  Jake reached around her, pulling the door open for her.  She climbed in the car, and he shut the door behind her.  She rolled down the window.  "Bye, Jake."

He exhaled deeply, and then reached out, laying his hand along the side of her face, needing to touch her one more time.  "Bye, Heather."

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Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs

On the front porch, the Greens debated whether to drive or to walk to Bailey's.  Heather argued for walking, pointing out that Stanley had walked over, and insisting again that she was fine despite her cast.  Johnston and Jake agreed with Heather, both of them worried about the fuel situation, not quite able to believe that a satellite feed from DC was necessarily good news.  Eric argued for taking a car or two, but he was overruled, and the family plus Stanley set off as a group, heading for downtown Jericho.

The Greens split into their respective couples, Gail and Johnston taking the lead, followed by Heather and Jake, and then April and Eric.  Stanley naturally joined Heather and Jake, walking next to Heather, ready as Jake was, to assist her if she needed it.  Jake acknowledged his friend with a quick, relieved grin.  "What exactly did you see, Stanley?" he demanded.

"It looked like when they have a press conference," Stanley answered, shrugging.  "Except there weren't any people yet, just the room."

"What'd it look like?  Was it from the White House?" Jake questioned.

"I dunno," Stanley responded.  "There was a podium.  It had one of those official seals on it," he added, shaking his head.  "There was a blue curtain."

"What was on the seal?  Did it say White House?"

"I don't know!" Stanley replied, exasperated.  "It had the eagle on it, I think.  I only had about two seconds to look at it before Mary made me come get all of you."

"It's okay, Stanley," Heather interjected calmly before Jake could say anything else.  She caught her husband's hand in her own, squeezing it, trying to signal him to lay off.  "We'll all know in about five minutes anyway," she added for good measure, starting to cough.

Jake forced her to stop, and Heather doubled over, the coughing fit wracking her body.  He rubbed her back, making what he hoped were soothing circles with his hand, not knowing what else to do.  April came forward, throwing Jake a questioning glance.  "Were her other coughing fits like this?"

Heather shook her head, righting herself, gasping for breath.  "The other ones were worse, and it's been a few hours, so that's good, right?" Jake answered, his hand still on her back.

They were all now gathered in a close circle around Heather, their expressions betraying their concern, as they waited for April's diagnosis.  "I don't know," she admitted finally. "It could just be because we're walking, and you need to take it easy for a few days.  I don't know," April shrugged.

"Well, I'm not spitting again," Heather croaked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  "No matter what you say."

"Spitting?" Stanley, Gail and Johnston questioned in unison.

"You don't wanna know," April and Eric both replied.

"I think I just need a drink of water," Heather suggested then.  "My throat's scratchy," she coughed, "And I need something that will soothe it.  I'm sure Jake will buy me a drink of water at Bailey's," she joked weakly, as Jake wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"I think I can do that," he agreed, pressing a quick kiss to her hairline.  Jake glanced at his father and brother.  "Let's go."

Johnston and Gail took the lead again, setting a somewhat slower pace for Heather's sake and - Gail thought - for Johnston's as well.  Although he refused to admit it, he was still having coughing fits much like Heather's, and they wore him out, just as much as they did her.  As a result, it was nearly ten minutes later, and not the five that Heather had predicted, that the Greens entered Bailey's Tavern.

The place was packed, filled past capacity with the nervous, chattering citizens of Jericho.  The Greens split up because they had to, Johnston and Gail disappearing one way into the crowd, Eric, holding fast to April's hand, heading to the back of the bar, and Stanley shoving his way through the crowd, leaving a trail for Jake and Heather to follow.  Amazingly, there was an open seat next to Mimi Clark, and Stanley patted it, glancing back at Heather.  "All yours," he told her.

 Heather climbed up on the barstool, nodding gratefully at Stanley.  "Thanks," she managed to cough out hoarsely.

Jake, resting his hand on Heather's back, tried to signal Mary, but she was distracted.  He looked back, following the path of her gaze to his brother and April.  He couldn't suppress an annoyed grunt, drawing Mimi's attention.  They exchanged a grim glance, and then Jake cleared his throat, calling out, "Mary!"  He repeated himself, practically yelling, a few seconds later.  "Mary!"

His shout startled her out of her reverie, and Mary moved toward them, enquiring tiredly, "What do you need?"  She couldn't manage a smile.

"Water, she needs water," Stanley answered for Jake, who now had his arm wrapped around Heather, whispering soothing words into her ear.  She'd started into another full blown coughing fit, and Stanley was pretty sure that Jake's support was the only reason she hadn't fallen over.  "The fire at the library," he reminded, "Her throat's a mess.  She needs water."

Mary nodded, crossing quickly to the bar sink.  She grabbed a beer glass, filled it, and then brought it to Heather.  "Here you go," she murmured, concern evident in her tone, as she placed the glass on the bar.

Heather's coughing had subsided to the point where she could take breaths again, but she didn't reach for the water.  Jake picked up the glass, moving it toward her mouth, "C'mon, babe," he urged her quietly.  He held the glass for her, and she took a testing sip.  Finally, she wrapped her hands around the glass, holding it for herself, and taking a long drink.

"Thank you," she murmured, exhaling softly.  Heather's eyes were wide and watery, and she faced Mary, trying to smile.  "Thanks," she repeated, reaching back to lay her hand over the one that Jake had on her shoulder. 

"More?" Mary asked, glancing at the glass which was only about a third full now.  Heather nodded.

"You can put that on my tab," Stanley joked nervously, patting Heather on the arm. 

"Don't worry, I already did," Mary retorted.  She picked up Heather's glass and walked back to the sink.

"So, you must be the wonderful and fabulous Heather Green," Mimi declared, turning sideways on her barstool to look Heather over.  "Heather Green?" she asked, a smile twitching at her lips.

"I know," Heather wheezed softly, shrugging.  "Though, really, it doesn't even occur to most people."

"Well, I shop a lot," Mimi responded.  "It's pretty much my hobby. I have an innate understanding of color."

Heather chuckled quietly.  "I'm wonderful and fabulous?"

"According to these two," she explained, titling her head at Stanley and Jake.  "I'm Mimi Clark, by the way."

"Stanley's IRS agent," Heather nodded.  She looked back over her shoulder at Jake.  "I'm wonderful and fabulous?"

"I probably did say you were wonderful," Jake admitted with a grin. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head.  "But Stanley must've said fabulous."

"Hey, I'll own it," Stanley shrugged.  "Because, you know," he continued, moving up to the bar to stand between Heather and Mimi, facing Heather, "I love you.  Madly, deeply, truly, I do," he insisted melodramatically, grinning at her.  He stopped, considering his words for a second.  "That wasn't right, was it?"

"Truly, madly, deeply," Heather supplied, laughing quietly.  She laid one hand on Stanley's shoulder.  "And, you know that I love you too, Stanley," she coughed, trying to affect a serious expression.  "But as a friend.  Almost like a brother."

He groaned, pretending to clutch his chest, and took a step back.  "You're a cruel, cruel woman, Heather Green," he sighed.

Mimi wasn't sure what to make of this display.  Truth be told, it irked her.  Aside from the actual day of her audit, Farm Boy had taken every opportunity to flirt with her.  She was starting to expect it, to count on it.  God knew, there was little else in this town to distract her.  And, she knew that he was only flirting with his best friend's pregnant wife, but still!  Mimi looked at Jake, her eyebrow raised in question. 

"It's one of their routines," he told her, shaking his head.  "You learn to just go with it."  Mary returned then with a full glass of water for Heather.  Jake pointed at the TV.  "Anything happened yet?"

"No, just that," Mimi answered, taking a sip of her own drink. "For the last half hour.  Traffic must be bad on the beltway," she grumbled.  "So."  Mimi faced Heather.  "He really proposed on top of a water tower, and you accepted?"

"Yes," Heather confirmed, glancing over her shoulder at Jake.  He shrugged, and she turned back to meet Mimi's disbelieving gaze.  "Though, you know," she added, reaching for her water, "Everyone else today wants to know why I ran into a burning building."

"Oh, I heard about that, too," Mimi dismissed with a wave, "But I just figured temporary insanity, and left it at that."

"Okay, that works, I guess," Heather agreed, chuckling.

"About the water tower," Mimi said then, "Did you know that you were on a water tower?  I mean, were there mind-altering substances involved?"

Heather looked back at Jake again, but other than rolling his eyes, he offered her no help.  Sighing, she faced Mimi.  "No mid-altering substances," she assured.  "It was seven-thirty in the morning, and I'd had maybe half a glass of champagne the night before.  What you have to know is, I pretty much told Jake on our second date that if he ever wanted to propose to me, that water tower was the place to do it."

If Mimi's expression was anything to go by, then she really didn't know what to think about this latest tidbit of information.  She took another gulp of her drink, and then started to speak, only to be cut off by the sudden sound of static and the accompanying collective gasp of the patrons in the bar that night, waiting for the broadcast to begin.  The television picture had gone out.

The noise level in the bar rose immediately, and Deputy Jimmy Taylor found himself trying to shout everyone down.  "All right!  Everybody calm down, all right?" he demanded, starting to fiddle with Mary's flat screen TV.  "We'll have it back in a second," he assured.

Mary was on the radio, talking to whomever she'd conned into going up on the roof this time.  "Keep moving it," she yelled into the handset.  "We've lost the picture."

"What's going on?" Mimi murmured, watching as Jake, if possible, took a step closer to Heather, resting both of his hands on her shoulders possessively.  Stanley moved directly behind Mimi, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her back.  It was, Mimi admitted to herself, comforting.

The building started to shake then, the lamps swaying wildly.  Jake began to get nervous when he heard glassware starting to break.  The shaking continued.  "C'mon," he muttered, reaching for Heather's hand.  He clamped onto it like a vise, helping her down from the barstool.  He saw Robert Hawkins slip past, moving toward the entrance.  "Stanley, Mimi," Jake said quietly, jerking his head toward the door.  "C'mon."

 He didn't wait to see if they were following, just held onto Heather, pulling her along behind him, forcing her to go faster than he knew she really should, given both her cast and coughing fits.  But, Jake wanted her out of the bar in case the crowd spooked.  Out on the street, he slowed slightly in deference to Heather, but he still kept her moving until they were standing in the middle of Main Street. 

Robert Hawkins stood a few feet away, looking up.  Hawkins glanced at Jake and Heather, and then back at the sky.  Jake and Heather also looked up.  There were missiles, ICBMs Jake guessed, sailing up and across the sky.

"Are those ours or theirs?"

Jake saw Stanley walk past them.  "They're headed up," Jake observed.  "Must be ours."  He pulled Heather against his side then, wrapping his arm around her to keep her in place.  He looked around.  His parents, Eric and April were all nearby; Hawkins had disappeared.

"Nearest missile silo's in Wyoming," Johnston Green reminded.  To Jake's eye, his father looked stunned.  "A hundred miles away," he muttered.

Jake nodded, though he knew his father wasn't watching him; they were all watching the sky.  He hugged Heather tighter, pressing his free hand against his mouth.  He didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"So this is it?" Eric demanded.  April, standing behind him, laid her hand on his back.  "We're at war?"  April withdrew her hand, covering her mouth with it, her eyes wide with fear.

"Jake," Heather whispered, her eyes wide.  "This is bad."  He nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Well, if they're sending missiles, they must have figured out who attacked us," Eric decided.  He glanced around, trying to catch his father's or brother's eye, but neither of them were looking at him. 

"God bless America!" Jimmy Taylor declared, jogging by.

"Coulda just decided to take out one of the usual suspects," Jake suggested, finally finding his voice. 

Johnston nodded, his expression grim.  He had his arm wrapped around Gail.  "Means there could be more missiles," he said, "Headed in our direction."

Gail pulled herself out of her husband's embrace.  She looked around, and Jake could see her working quickly to confirm that everyone in the family was there.  "Well, is this federal response we've all been waiting for?" she asked, clearly distraught.

A crackling sound, like you'd expect from a giant bug zapper began to sound in the air around them, causing all their ears to buzz.  The lights on Main Street - back on for just a few hours - started to go out, one by one.  There was a popping sound, and they all looked up in time to see a red light flash in the sky.

"Oh God," Heather muttered, covering her face with both her hands.  She looked like she might be sick.

"What the hell was that?" Eric demanded just as April moved next to him, forcing herself into his embrace.

"It was an EMP," Jake said.

At the same time, Heather answered, "An EMP.  Electromagnetic pulse."

"What?" Gail wanted to know.  She moved away from Johnston, drawing closer to Jake and Heather.  "What is it?"

"An EMP," Jake repeated.  He'd pulled Heather in front of him, and was now leaning his chin on her shoulder, hugging her close.  "It means everything's dead."

"All the electronics, the power grid," Heather sighed, frowning. 

Eric, April moving with him, spun around, facing his brother and sister-in-law.  "Well, is help on its way or not?" he grumbled. 

Johnston turned away from his family and bowed his head.  To his oldest son, he looked defeated, and that caused Jake's gut to start churning.  "I don't think so," he admitted.  The Greens all waited silently for their patriarch to turn around, to face them, to lead them.  The citizens of Jericho rushed by, some hurrying home, some up to no good.  For once, no one bothered the mayor.  Finally, after an excruciating wait, Johnston looked up at his family.  "Meeting at town hall, the sheriff's station, ten minutes," he commanded.  "Eric, find Jimmy and Bill.  Find that cop, uh -"

"Hawkins," Jake supplied, his lips pressed together in a hard, thin line.

"Hawkins, yeah," Johnston acknowledged.  "Jake, you come, too.  April.  You're my medical rep," he declared.  "And, Gail, Heather.  Hell, we're just gonna need your brains."  He held his hand out to his wife.  "Ten minutes," Johnston reminded his children, before setting off for town hall.

"Stick with Jake, April," Eric commanded, setting her away from himself gently.  "I'll be there as soon as I find everybody else."

Jake nodded.  "Okay," he breathed, looking first at his sister-in-law, and then down at his wife.  "Let's go."    April started after Johnston and Gail, but when Jake tried to follow, Heather didn't move.  "Heather?  What?" he demanded, not bothering to disguise the annoyance in his tone.  "Just c'mon."

Heather didn't move.  "Look up," she told him, frowning.  "Jake, just look up."

"Fine," he grumbled, glancing up at the dark night sky.  "What am I looking at?"

"No stars," Heather heaved a sad sigh.  "Ever since the bombs, you can't see the stars.  You still can't."

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