Different Circumstances: Part 9A of ? by Marzee Doats

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Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

"Jake?" Heather yawned, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes.  "What - What time is it?" she asked, pressing the back of her hand over her mouth as she yawned again.  "What're you doin'?"

He was, in fact, rifling through the dresser for clothes.  Jake knew that he tended to get clumsy and careless when he was exhausted - as he was this morning - but he'd risked coming in to change anyway.  All night, as he'd sat up keeping his watch, he'd imagined that he could still smell the stench of the hospital, the gagging scent of flesh starting to decay.  The more he'd tried to chalk it up to his fatigue-fueled imagination, the stronger the sensation had gotten.  Finally, he'd given up, heading for the shower at the first hint of daylight and then sneaking into their bedroom to find clothes.  Jake couldn't bring himself to don what he'd worn the day before because, even though he knew it was irrational, he was convinced that smell had permeated everything he'd had on.

"Just gettin' dressed," he whispered, answering her over his shoulder.  Finding underwear and jeans, Jake pulled them on, and then made a lackadaisical attempt at tossing his towel toward the laundry basket, before running one hand through his still damp hair.  Grabbing a t-shirt and socks off the dresser top, he crossed the room, seating himself next to Heather on the edge of the bed.  "Hey," he grinned, cupping her face with both hands before bringing his mouth down on top of hers.  "Mornin'," Jake sighed.

"Good morning," Heather murmured, holding his hand in place against her cheek.  She glanced at Jake's side of the bed, which was undisturbed, before returning her gaze to him.  "You didn't come to bed," she yawned.  In the next second, her eyes widened, and she asked, a panicked note coloring her tone, "Your Dad's okay, right?"

"He's fine," Jake assured, finding his t-shirt where he'd dropped it and then pulling it on over his head.  "Still a little weak, but he's getting back to his old self," he smiled.  "Made Mom drag me in after I got out of the shower so he could yell at me about makin' noise too early," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.  "Wore him out so much that he had to go back to sleep.  Still, never thought I'd actually enjoy a lecture from my Dad," Jake joked.

"Well, it is early," Heather acknowledged, stifling another yawn.  She traced the line of Jake's jaw with two fingers.  "You've shaved," she observed.

"I have some things I need to take care of this morning," he explained, capturing her hand so he could place a kiss on her palm. "And, I'm sorry I didn't come up last night," he apologized.  "I just - Eric needed to talk, and then I fell asleep on the couch downstairs," Jake told her, forcing away the guilty feeling that threatened to overtake him for telling Heather even that one little white lie. 

"You and Eric talking?" she teased, grinning.  "Should April and I be worried?"

Jake looked away, sure that his face betrayed both his exasperation and shame over having been forced into keeping Eric's secret.  He cleared his throat, vainly trying to rid it of the tight lump that had formed there.  Taking a deep breath, he offered Heather a shaky smile.  "Well, I think we've got a lot more to worry about when it comes to you and April talking," Jake murmured, tucking her hair back, "Than you've got to worry about with us."

"That's probably true," she admitted, trying to loosen the covers where he'd pulled them tight by sitting down.  Heather started to move over on the bed.  "Jake you were up half the night.  Whatever you need to do can wait a few hours," she said, tugging on his hand.

Shaking his head, Jake turned sideways, his back to Heather, and pulled his socks apart.  "I need to -"

"It's what?  Six-thirty?" Heather demanded, kneeling behind him.  She snaked her arm around his waist, her hand finding its way under the bottom edge of his t-shirt.  She kissed the shell of his ear, and then the side of his neck, eliciting a groan from Jake.

"Closer to seven," he chuckled, letting his head fall back against Heather's shoulder. 

"Stay," Heather cajoled, pressing her lips to his temple, her fingers splayed across his stomach.  "You know you want to."

"Babe," Jake protested half-heartedly, dropping his sock so he could arrest her hand with his own.  He turned his head so he could see her eyes.  Heather smiled at him sweetly, obviously well aware of what she was up to. Shaking his head, Jake fought a grin.  "I really should -"

Sighing, Heather withdrew her hand.  "Is this about Jonah?" she asked, scooting around Jake so that she sat next to him on the edge of the bed.  "'Cause I forgot to tell you last night," Heather explained, leaning against his arm.  "Emily stopped by, and she'd gone out there to see him.  He gave her a cardboard box full of medicine.  Antibiotics.  There wasn't anything that April thought would work for your Dad unfortunately, but Emily also said that Jonah's agreed to your deal.  So see," she said, turning her head to kiss him, "Problem solved.  Nothin' to do but sleep in," Heather whispered against his mouth.

"Well, I'm good at that," Jake chuckled, resting his forehead against hers.  An hour before it had finally occurred to him that sitting up all night, waiting for Ravenwood to roll down the street was likely a waste of time.  His gut still insisted that they were on their way to Jericho, but there were a number of blink-and-you-might-miss-'em towns between Rogue River and Jericho to distract Ravenwood, and if they hadn't found Eric's wallet, it could be days or weeks before they arrived.  He was exhausted, and going to bed, wrapping himself around Heather, getting some sleep, it was all much too tempting to pass up.  "Okay," he agreed, pulling off the t-shirt he'd just put on.

"Good," she smiled, moving into the middle of the bed. 

Jake stood up and then slid under the covers, opening his arms to Heather.  She moved into his embrace, and he kissed the top of her head.  They both yawned simultaneously, and then laughed quietly in unison.  "Love you," he muttered, tightening his hold on her. 

* * * * *

An insistent, almost frantic tapping on the door yanked Jake out of his slumber.  He blinked blearily and tried to turn over to look at the window in order to gauge the time, but Heather's head had his arm pinned.  Groaning, Jake pressed a kiss to her shoulder, stroking his free hand over her gently rounded belly.  "Heather," he whispered.  "Babe."

"Wha?" she muttered, trying to roll over. 

Her movement was enough to free Jake's arm, which he realized had gone to sleep and was starting to tingle.  "Nothin'," he answered, yawning.  Flipping over, he gazed blankly at the window, watching the swirling dust motes that were picked up by the early morning sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.  He guessed that, maybe, an hour had passed since he'd come into the bedroom.

"Jake!"  He recognized his brother's anxious whisper from the other side of the door.  "Jake!" Eric repeated.

Allowing another groan, Jake worked to extract himself from the bed, struggling against the sheets and quilt that seemed to trap his legs.  Heather's eyes opened, and she rubbed them with the heel of one hand.  "Where are you goin'?" she sighed.

"T' kill Eric," he answered, just as his brother called his name again, louder this time.  Grumbling, Jake stumbled across the room and wrenched open the door.  "What?!" he demanded roughly, stepping out into the hallway, forcing Eric to back up, though not before he'd caught a glimpse of the rumpled bedding and Jake's discarded t-shirt laying on the floor.  Jake pulled the door closed behind him and then faced his brother with an annoyed glare.

"Uh," Eric said his eyes going wide as he started to turn red.  "Stanley's here.  Says he needs to talk to us.  I'm - I'm sorry."

"Right," Jake sighed, closing his eyes.  "Look, just give me a minute," he muttered, not bothering to correct his brother's mistaken impression.  Ducking back through the door, Jake scooped up his t-shirt and socks from where they'd fallen.  His boots were nowhere to be found, and he spent nearly a minute searching for them before he realized that they were still downstairs in the living room.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he pulled his shirt on, and then the socks.  "Hey," he smiled at Heather, watching her as she rolled over, burying her head in his pillow.

"Gotta go?" she sighed, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Maybe," Jake agreed, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.  "Stanley's here, but I don't know what's up.  Go back to sleep."

"'Kay," Heather nodded, yawning.  "But come back," she commanded, tangling her fingers with his, "If you can."

"I will," he promised, standing.  Out in the hallway, Jake was surprised to find Eric still there, waiting for him.  "What's up?" he asked, quietly closing the bedroom door.

"Listen Jake," Eric began, "I'm sorry about -"

"How'd it go with April?" Jake interrupted, cutting his brother off.  He took a deep breath, glancing at Eric as they headed for the staircase.  Jake was dreading the fallout he knew would come with Eric's announcement, but waiting for that shoe to drop was just as bad.  "Did you tell her about you and Mary?" he asked quietly.

Eric frowned and looked away, shaking his head.  "Didn't think it was the right time," he muttered.

"Yeah," Jake agreed, whispering.  April had been running herself ragged the last few days, caring for Johnston, and she'd almost completely abandoned her responsibilities at the clinic out of her loyalty to Eric and the rest of the Green family.  He cleared his throat, throwing his brother a pointed look.  "But, it's never gonna be."

"Sorry to come by so early," Stanley apologized as soon as Jake and Eric came into sight on the stairs.  "Sorry to drag you outta bed," he added with a nod at Jake's slight case of bed head.

"S'okay," Jake returned automatically, glancing around at their visitors.  Bonnie and Mimi, their coats still buttoned up, were standing in the archway leading into the living room, while Stanley waited between them and the door, obviously on guard.  "Bonnie, Mimi," he greeted, walking past the women and into the living room to search for his boots.  Looking back over his shoulder, Jake addressed his best friend.  "What's up?"

"Some guys showed up at the farm last night," Stanley answered, frowning.  He followed Jake into the living room, while Bonnie and Mimi moved to the fireplace to warm themselves, and Eric brought up the rear.  "Coupl'a humvees, guns," Stanley recounted.  He took a deep breath before adding, "They knew Eric's name."

"Ravenwood," Eric muttered, running a worried hand through his hair.  He glanced at Jake, who closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Who?" Stanley questioned, looking back and forth between the Green brothers.

Reflexively, Jake's hand clenched, though he didn't quite make a fist.  "Mercenaries," he answered flatly.  He sat down on the coffee table, quickly pulling on his boots.  "We ran into 'em in Rogue River."

"'Kay," Stanley acknowledged.  Standing, Jake strode across the room to retrieve his rifle from where he'd left it, propped against the wall, earlier that morning.  "What the hell do they want?" Stanley demanded, watching Jake as he moved to the front door and checked the street through the window.

Jake took a deep breath, allowing himself to think of Heather, safe for the moment, in their bed upstairs.  He was determined to keep it that way.  Turning, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands, he offered his friend a grim look.  "Everything."

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

Monday, October 29, five years before the bombs

Gracie's Market, like any small town, independent market, was an expensive place to shop, and Gail Green, like many of Jericho's residents only came into the store for incidentals - a gallon of milk or a pound of hamburger.  She did her bulk shopping during twice monthly trips to the Costco in New Bern, and she always went first to the Richmond farm stand for produce.  Over the years, Johnston's secretaries had grown used to her phone calls, a couple of times a week, asking that he stop in for bread or aluminum foil on his way home, and Eric and Jake as boys, once they'd been allowed to ride their bikes downtown, had fought over who would go when she'd tell them that there was no parmesan cheese for the spaghetti that night.

Today though it was Gail who ran into the market, in need of a can of pineapple for a cake she was making, cream of chicken soup - she'd only found cream of mushroom when she'd looked in the pantry - for a casserole, and bananas.  Exchanging hellos with Gracie, she grabbed a hand basket and started down the center aisle looking for the canned goods she needed.

"Uh-uh, no way," Gail heard from the next aisle over.  "We can't be known as the house with the bad candy."  She stopped, her hand on a can of soup, startled by the realization that it was Jake who was talking.  "And we definitely can't give out raisins!"

"Okay then, what qualifies as good candy then?" Heather - Gail recognized - returned, laughing softly.

"Anything peanut butter," Jake answered, predictably.  Gail, placing the soup can in her basket, caught herself smiling. 

"Reese's then?"  Heather said. "Butterfingers, if you like your peanut butter petrified.  But remember, this is for the trick-or-treaters, not for you."

Gail could hear a shrug in her son's voice.  "Might have some left over," he suggested.  "And we need those chocolate-covered marshmallow things."

"Yuck!" Heather declared.  "The only way I like marshmallows is in Rice Krispie treats."  Jake didn't say anything but Gail could guess at the excited look that must have crossed his face at her words.  A few seconds later, Heather was laughing.  "Find the marshmallows and the cereal and I'll make 'em for you," she offered.  "Those are easy."

It suddenly occurred to Gail that she was, in fact, eavesdropping.  That, along with the fact that the cereal was on the shelf behind her, sent her into a small panic, and she turned to hurry back down the aisle only to spot Sandra McVeigh, the elementary school principal, walking toward her, he mouth already open in greeting.  Gail threw her a wide-eyed look, waving her free hand to stop her.  "What's going on?" Mrs. McVeigh whispered, stopping next to her friend. 

Gail jerked her head at the shelf just as Heather said, "Everyone gets a jack-o-lantern sucker."

"Found marshmallows," Jake answered.  "I'll go get the cereal." 

"I've got math and spelling grading to do tonight -"

"Oh, I'll check the math, if that's what you're fishin' for," Jake interrupted, chuckling.   "You still have to do all that teacher stuff though."

"Absolutely," Heather agreed.  "Notes and stickers are on me." 

Gail could imagine Heather smiling at Jake, and she smiled herself.  "Jake and Heather," she murmured.  "I think I'm spying," she admitted, earning a gentle smirk from Mrs. McVeigh.

"Find the cereal," they heard Heather instruct Jake.  Gail grabbed Mrs. McVeigh's arm, dragging her down the aisle toward the back of the store. 

"What are we doing?" Mrs. McVeigh asked, laughing, as Gail pulled her toward the stockroom.

"Hiding," Gail answered, pushing the door open.  "If Jake knew I was listening in," she shook her head, not bothering to complete the thought.  She faced Mrs. McVeigh, astonishment evident in her expression.  "Jake's correcting homework?"

"Easy enough to do," Mrs. McVeigh shrugged.  "There's an answer key, and most teachers end up recruiting their spouses at some point, just to get everything done.  Heather's a bit ahead of the curve," she joked.  "But I could tell she was a smart cookie when I interviewed her.  I was glad she took the job."

"I really like her," Gail confessed.  She took a deep breath, adding, "But I'm trying not to push."

"Who needs to push?" Mrs. McVeigh asked.  "I swear I've seen more of Jake at the school in the last few weeks than I did his last semester as a student."

Gail laughed, but before she could respond Gracie Leigh came through the stockroom door.  She stopped short and stood, hands on her hips, studying them, a somewhat suspicious look on her face.  "What are you two doing back here?" she demanded.

"We're hiding from Jake and Heather - Miss Lisinski," Mrs. McVeigh explained.  "Gail was spying, but now she's afraid of getting caught.  I'm just along for the ride," she said, throwing Gail a quick grin.

"Miss Lisinski?  The new Mrs. Owensby?" Gracie questioned, earning nods of confirmation from the other two women.  "Why in the world do you need to hide from her?  For that matter, why would you be hidin' from your own son?"

"They're dating," Mrs. McVeigh replied before Gail could.  "And she's trying not to push."

"I see," Gracie returned, though her expression showed that she clearly didn't.

"Is it all right if we stay here, just until Jake and Heather are out of the store?" Gail asked.  Gracie's frown deepened.  "My husband's the mayor.  Sandy's the school principal," she added with a glance at Mrs. McVeigh.  "I think we can be trusted in your stockroom."

Gracie stared at them for a long moment before reluctantly conceding, "I suppose.  I'll send Richie back to let you know when they leave."  She turned, shaking her head.  "This is why I never had kids," she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Mrs. McVeigh looked at Gail.  "You do realize that as soon as we leave the store, Gracie will be telling anyone who will listen that we were hiding back here, and why."

Groaning, Gail nodded.  "Sorry to drag you into this," she apologized.

"It's all right," Mrs. McVeigh shrugged.  "I'm enjoying myself, actually," she admitted.  "Now, I hope you and Johnston are still coming to the Halloween parade at school on Wednesday.  The kids do love it when the mayor hands out the costume prizes."  She grinned.  "You'll probably run into Jake, too."

"We'll be there," Gail promised.  "We're looking forward to it, like we do every year.  Johnston grumbles, but he has a good time.  Of course, it's getting harder and harder to recognize even half the costumes anymore."

"Have grandkids," Mrs. McVeigh suggested.  "Then you'll know your Barbies from your Auroras from your Cinderellas."

Gail shook her head.  "I'm not pushing, remember?"  She took a deep breath, offering a distracted smile.  "This year at least, by going to the Halloween parade, Johnston gets to put off an inspection of the new landfill for a day.  He's rather grateful."

"Glad to be of service!" Mrs. McVeigh laughed.

"So," Gail began, a few moments later, obviously trying to sound nonchalant.  "Jake's at the school a lot?"

"Enough," Mrs. McVeigh nodded, motioning for Gail to follow her.  They walked to Gracie's small office area, where they found two chairs.  "He's been coming on Thursdays to help with your father-in-law's presentations to Heather's class.  Those have been phenomenal by the way," she explained, smiling.  "And, of my staff of twenty, all of us from Jericho or at least having lived here for a very long time, none of us ever thought of asking the former mayor to do that.  We really needed Heather's fresh perspective, let me tell you," she sighed. 

"Otherwise," she continued, "Jake isn't really there when the students are, but he does come by most evenings to walk her home, so to speak," Mrs. McVeigh joked.  "Follows her home, anyway.  Soon as it's four o'clock, he's wherever she is.  Trust me," she chuckled, "Their little romance has us all watchin'.  Not that everyone approves," Mrs. McVeigh admitted, "But they're all still watching.  Harriett's practically sending a daily email update.  I'll have her add you to the distribution list if you want."

Gail laughed, a smile blooming on her face.  "Well, I don't suppose that could in any way be construed as pushing," she decided, shrugging.

"In no way, shape or form," Mrs. McVeigh confirmed.  "It's purely observational."

The stockroom door opened again, and this time a confused looking Richie Dawes stepped through.  "Uh, Mrs. Green, Mrs. McVeigh," he called out, inching toward them.  "Mrs. Leigh said to tell you that the coast is clear, and that Heckle and Jeckle have flown the coop."

The two women burst into peals of laughter.  "Huh," Mrs. McVeigh mused, "Who knew Gracie had an actual sense of humor."

Still giggling, Gail stood up, nodding at the befuddled teenager.  "Thank you, Richie," she grinned.  "We'll just get out of your way."

"Oh - Okay," Richie agreed.  He waited, following them out of the stockroom, apparently under orders to ensure that they actually left.

Mrs. McVeigh squeezed Gail's arm.  "Thanks for the entertainment," she teased.  "I'll see you on Wednesday."

Nodding her agreement, Gail turned in the other direction, headed for the produce aisle to pick out bananas.

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Gail Green carried the tray she'd prepared for her husband into the dining room.  From upstairs - coming down the stairs, she realized - Gail heard her daughters-in-law laughing at something.  She smiled.  Although she knew it had been a matter of hours - a day, perhaps a day and a half - it still felt like forever since the house had heard that sound.  Johnston's illness, his near death, had cast a pall over the Green residence, but now that was dissipating.  Gail was starting to feel that she could breathe easily again. 

She met April and Heather at the foot of the stairs. "I thought I could get Johnston to eat somethin'," Gail explained, smiling.

"No, it's better to let him sleep," April contradicted, putting her arm around Gail's shoulders.  Heather stepped forward and insisted on relieving her of the tray she carried.  "Let his body adjust to the meds," April ordered, steering her mother-in-law back toward the dining room.

"Okay," Gail sighed, leaning her head against April's arm.  She frowned softly, repeating herself.  "Okay."

April smiled, glancing between Gail and Heather.  "You ready for some more good news?"

"Are you kidding?" Gail demanded as she slipped out from under April's arm, spinning to face her daughter-in-law, her eyes full of hope.

April and Heather exchanged a glance, both grinning widely. "His blood pressure's stabilizing and the fever seems to be resolving," April announced.  She took a deep breath, and released it.  "I think he's gonna be okay."

Gail heaved a sigh of relief, and began making inarticulate, happy noises.  "Well, that calls for a real celebration!"  She glanced at Heather, standing to her right, examining the tray she was now holding.  "How about some mashed black-eyed peas?"

"So that's what this is," Heather said making a face.

April grimaced too, squeezing Gail's shoulder as she moved past her and into the dining room proper.  "None for me," she assured.  "It hasn't been a particularly good morning, if you know what I mean."

"I can't even claim morning sickness anymore, and I can't say I find this very appealing," Heather admitted, setting the tray down on the table.  She threw Gail a guilty look.  "Sorry."

"Quite all right," Gail laughed.  "Much better in soup," she conceded, slipping into the chair across the table from April.  Smiling, Gail laid her hand over April's.  "It'll be worth it in end."

"How long we've waited?" April returned.  "I could throw up every day for the next year, and it would be worth it.  Of course," she allowed, sighing, "It could be the nerves as much as the pregnancy."

"Nerves?" Gail questioned.  "You didn't tell Eric yet?"

"April!" Heather scolded, dropping into the chair next to her sister-in-law.  "You have to tell him."

"I know.  But he was just so exhausted last night," she murmured, hugging herself.  "And then he was up and gone before I had the chance."  She looked between Gail and Heather.  "Any idea where he went?"

Heather groaned, shaking her head.  "Eric woke Jake up just before eight, maybe?" she guessed.  "Stanley was here, and he needed to talk to them about something."

"Probably needed their help," Gail decided, smiling at April.  "See?  Mystery solved.  But tell him!" she ordered, squeezing her daughter-in-law's hand.  "We need this.  Eric needs this."

April nodded, offering up a weak smile.  "Well," Heather began, watching her sister-in-law closely, but addressing Gail.  "You haven't heard our plan yet," she grinned.  "April and I have agreed," Heather explained.  "And, we're both going to have little girls."

"I do believe that has all been decided without either of your input, so to speak," Gail chuckled.  She motioned toward the abandoned tray.  "Would you mind handing me that?" she asked Heather.

Making a face, Heather passed her mother-in-law the bowl of mashed peas.  "Well, true.  And, in the end, all I care about - all we care about," she amended with a quick look at April, "Is having healthy babies.  But it's still fun to think about."

"Exactly," April confirmed, shaking her head.  "And, you can't tell us you aren't just itching to make dresses," she teased Gail.  "And think of all the fluffy, pink sweaters they'd need."

"I do have a sweater - yellow though - half finished upstairs," Gail admitted, poking at the bowl's contents with a spoon.  "And, I've got a couple of skeins of pink tucked away, just in case," she continued.  "But, don't forget, the Green family tends toward boys."

"Just in this - our - generation," Heather argued.  "Gramps had two sisters, right?  And a daughter as well as a son," she reminded, sitting back in her chair.  "His little Susie.  She was practically all he talked about at the end.  He couldn't wait to see her again, even more than his Betsy."

"He forgot my name," April recalled, biting her lip. "Started calling me Susie."

"Me too," Heather confirmed.

"He called me Betsy," Gail murmured quietly.  "Rather ironically," she added, pushing the bowl of peas away.  She had to agree with Heather; it wasn't at all appealing.  "But you're right, on both counts."  Gail frowned, trying to remember.  "Marilyn and Judy, I think.  EJ's sisters," she clarified.  "Neither ever married, oddly, though I think one of them had a fiancé who was killed somewhere in the Pacific during World War Two.  And, there was Susie."

Johnston rarely spoke of his baby sister, and his father had been just as reticent when it came to talking about his young daughter, who had died at just six years old.  Gail had been engaged to Johnston for nearly three months before she'd first heard mention of Susan Green.  To say that Betsy, Johnston's mother, had been displeased to learn of their engagement had been to completely understate her feelings.  Johnston, preparing to return to Fort Benning for Ranger School the Monday after Thanksgiving, had proposed on the Sunday before.  Although he'd immediately informed his mother that he was engaged – and that he would be attending Thanksgiving dinner with his fiancée's family – Betsy had taken her son's subsequent absence as an opportunity to ignore Gail's existence.  But, two and a half months later, with Johnston home on leave and preparing to ship out to Vietnam, even Betsy was forced to acknowledge that Gail wasn't going away.  So, when EJ had put his foot down, insisting that they had to have Gail and Johnston to supper, she'd agreed reluctantly.  The evening had been strained to say the least.

Gail found herself grateful anew over her easy relationship with both her daughters-in-law, recalling the friction that had existed for years between Betsy and herself.  Sighing, she glanced between them both.  "Did you ever hear the story of Susie's cat?" she asked. 

"I don't think I have," April replied, while Heather shook her head 'no'.

"Susie's cat was Susie's cat," Gail began, chuckling at the absurdity of her statement.  "She had another name of course, but I never heard her called anything but 'Susie's cat'.  Johnston and I had our first fight because of that cat," she admitted.  "His mother didn't like me, so she ignored our engagement for as long as she could.  But then, he was leaving for Vietnam, and I suppose she had to do something.  She gave in enough to have him bring me to dinner."

"The start of the Green family dinners," Heather grinned.

"Well, they were a little different when Betsy was in charge," Gail chuckled, shaking her head.  "I must've spent four hours trying to get ready for that dinner - and this in spite of the fact that I knew it was nearly a two hour drive from Rogue River to Jericho, so the chances that my dress would stay clean and pressed were almost nil.  But I knew she didn't like me, and I wanted to win her over any way I could," Gail sighed.  "Now, that day my sister Bridget was at Nightingale Hall - that was the nurse's dormitory, back in the old days," she explained.

"Aptly named," April laughed, rolling her eyes.  "The senior nurses used to tell stories.  Never seemed fair that the doctors didn't have to live in a dorm."

"Didn't need one for the doctors.  Nightingale Hall took care of protectin' the nurses from the doctors!" Gail claimed with a snort.  "Some of them were quite grabby, but with all the unmarried nurses and nursing students in the dorm with a curfew, well, it cut down on some of the extracurricular activity, anyway," she shrugged.  "But as I was saying, for some reason Bridget was there that afternoon.  She was fifteen, and quite the brat.  Jealousy was part of it," Gail conceded.  "She wasn't happy unless she was the center of attention, and having an engaged older sister was just an annoyance to her." 

Laughing softly, Gail looked down at her rings, recalling a long-forgotten memory.  "You know, it was Bridget who, the first time she saw my engagement ring, said that the diamond would be a diamond only if I allowed it to grow a little."  She paused, rubbing her finger over the familiar stones in the ring.  The original diamond was there, along with two others.  Johnston had insisted on giving her a new ring for their tenth wedding anniversary, and Gail had insisted that her 'little diamond' be reset in that new ring.  "It's the tiny one," she explained, taking off her engagement ring and passing it to April.  While her wedding ring never left her hand for longer than it took to wash a sink full of dishes, Gail had only worn her engagement ring sporadically - mostly on special occasions - for years.  But when she'd spotted it in her jewelry box a few days before, she'd given into the impulse to put it on and hadn't taken it off since.  "Bridget was right, much as I hate to admit it," she smiled.  "That's a baby diamond.  But it was from Johnston - really more than he could afford at the time, I knew - and that was what mattered."

"Awww!" Heather and April said in unison, grinning at Gail.  "But what about Susie's cat?" Heather prompted, returning the ring to her mother-in law.

"I got sidetracked," Gail admitted with a shrug.  "Anyway," she started again, "After Jenny - my roommate - and Bridget had finished my hair and finally given their approval to my dress, I probably only had five minutes to spare.  Johnston was on time, of course.  He'd been back from Fort Benning for a week, and he'd driven every day from Jericho in his Rambler convertible to see me." 

"Johnston had a Rambler?" Heather interrupted.  "How come I didn't find that out at the ranch?" she complained jokingly.

"That was a good car," Gail agreed.  "Fun to ride in.  But we sold it before we moved back from Lawrence.  It seemed sensible at the time.  Anyway," she continued after a short pause, "He'd come to Rogue River every day.  I don't know exactly what he did while I was in class or on duty, but whenever I popped into the cafeteria, he was there," she laughed, enjoying the trip down memory lane.  "And every night, he'd take me to dinner, and maybe a movie - it was February, so we were forced to stay inside - and then he'd get me back to the dorm at two minutes to ten so that I wasn't breaking curfew," Gail smiled.  "Afterwards, he'd drive home to Jericho, every night."

"Awww!" Heather and April repeated, breaking into giggles.  Gail laughed along with them.  "So how'd your dress fair?" April asked.

"Oh it was a wrinkled mess by the time we got to Jericho naturally," Gail admitted with a dismissive wave of her hand.  "Not that it mattered.  Dinner was tense, and the only way I would've made Betsy happy that night was if I'd suddenly turned into Susannah Lawson.  We only stayed for two hours, and when we got back in the car, that's when I put my foot in it," she sighed, her expression turning sheepish.  April and Heather exchanged a questioning look, but let her continue.  "We weren't out of sight of the house before I let Johnston have it over that cat."

"Susie's cat," April interjected.

"Yes.  Susie's cat.  Only I thought it was Susannah's cat," Gail explained.  "The cat had had an abscess, something like that, removed earlier in the week, and all three of them were worrying over it.  It was 'pass the potatoes, and did you give Susie's cat her medicine?' all night.  I bit my tongue while we were with Johnston's parents, but I was rather hurt, and I demanded to know how he could be so... so... insensitive to the fact that his mother was keeping his ex-girlfriend's cat, and then join in the talk about it all through dinner while I was there!"

Heather covered her mouth with her hand, groaning.  "Oh no," she muttered.  "This can't be good."

"Definitely not," April nodded, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.  "Wow.  If that was your first fight - that's almost as bad and Heather and Jake," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.  She glanced at Heather.  "You kept insisting that you were over just be -"

"We really don't need to discuss that," Heather grumbled, shaking her head.  "So, what did Johnston say?" she asked, pointedly returning her attention to her mother-in-law.

"Well, first he stopped the car," Gail sighed.  "It was dark, but I could see his face and he looked so hurt.  Hurt and stunned.  Then, he very simply, in that calm, Johnston Green way of his, said, 'Susie's cat, not Susannah's.  Susie.  My sister.  She died nine years ago.'"

"Ouch," April winced sympathetically.  "What did you say after that?"

Gail let out a held breath, laughing soundlessly at herself.  "If I'd been smart I would have just apologized right then and there and, after that, asked him to tell me about Susie," she acknowledged.  "But, my mother always did say that out of all her children I had the Irishest of tempers."  Gail's expression turned sheepish, and she cleared her throat.  "Now, I'd written to Johnston three times a week the whole time he was gone to Fort Benning, and he'd write back once, maybe twice, each week. Plus, he always phoned me at eight on Saturday night.  It was a good time to call since most of the other girls were either on duty or out for the evening, and the pay phone was always free.  I'd have dinner at my parents' house and then rush back to the dorm to wait for Johnston to call.  We could talk for twenty minutes and it was the highlight of my week," she smiled.  "But he hadn't ever told me that he'd had a sister, and I was too worked up to think about why, maybe, that was."

"You accused him of lying, didn't you?" Heather asked, her nose wrinkling as she offered her mother-in-law an understanding smile.

"Yes, I did," Gail declared, shaking her head.  "And Johnston, well, I don't think he knew what to do, truth be told.  I was eighteen, he'd only just turned nineteen - we were babies, really.  It was 1966, Johnston was leaving for Vietnam, and I didn't even know where that was, really.  Certainly not enough to be worried," she sighed.  "But anyway, he started the car - didn't say a thing - and we were on our way back to Rogue River.  The radio was on, and every song....  It was like the DJ knew exactly how to torture me.  I remember, This Diamond Ring played, and I was staring down at my hands.  I had gloves on - you wore gloves when you went visiting back in those days," Gail chuckled.

"The good old days," Heather teased.

"Exactly," Gail smiled.  "I had gloves on," she repeated, "But I could feel the ring on my finger, beneath the glove.  It just made me worry that Johnston would call our engagement off when we got back to town.  I think after that it was Chapel of Love, and then You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'.  I always hated that song after that night, so naturally I disliked Tom Cruise over a decade before it was the popular thing to do."

Giggling along with Heather, April grinned.  "You were just ahead of your time."

"Maybe," Gail nodded.  "But then... ah, then," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over her.  "I Want To Hold Your Hand came on the radio and Johnston reached over and took my hand."

"Oh my goodness," Heather sighed, "You must have been so relieved."

"So relieved that I burst into tears," Gail returned, laughing.  "Poor Johnston, he had to pull the car off the highway.  He gave me his handkerchief, and I mopped myself up.  I apologized of course.  By then I was just so embarrassed by the whole horrible evening."  She smiled, staring unseeingly past Heather and April.  "He kissed me," Gail blushed softly, her focus returning to her daughters-in law.    "And then he told me about Susie.  I didn't get the whole story that night, that took a while, but anyway.  This is the story of Susie Green and her cat."

"About a month before her sixth birthday," Gail said, starting the story, "Susie started a campaign for a cat.  Well, a kitten.  Apparently she was very specific.  She wanted a tortoiseshell calico kitten she could call 'Dandelion'.  Johnston said he and EJ kept teasing her that she wanted a 'dandy lion'."

"Now that sounds like Gramps," April laughed. 

Gail nodded.  "Yeah, I'm sure that was him.  Remember, Johnston was ten, so probably not quite that witty," she chuckled, continuing.  "But I guess Betsy was against the cat.  She thought Susie was too young to take care of a pet on her own.  But then, one of the barn cats had kittens, and one of them was exactly to Susie's specifications.  Johnston found them first, and hid 'em away in the barn where Susie couldn't find them. She knew that cat was gonna have kittens, and she was beside herself when it disappeared.  Johnston told EJ about the cat, and he went to work on Betsy, who finally gave in.  So," Gail smiled, "Early in the morning on her birthday, Johnston went down to the barn and took the kitten from the mama cat, tied a ribbon 'round it's neck - said he got scratched for his trouble - and put it in a basket that he left on Susie's chair.  She found it when she came down for breakfast.  She was so excited, and Johnston was so proud of himself, even nine years later.  He rather adored his little sister."

"That's so sweet!" Heather declared.  "I love my brothers, but they always did things like pull the heads off my dolls."

"Johnston was a good big brother," Gail sighed.  "Anyway, the kitten was only a few weeks old, so EJ made them take it back to its mother even before breakfast.  Johnston said Susie would go visit her kitten four or five times a day, as often as their mother would let her."  She paused, her expression turning serious.  "Susie came down sick just before the Fourth of July.  They didn't think it was anything serious, just put her to bed and looked after her.  Johnston even went off to scout camp.  But, Susie took a turn for the worse.  Her sore throat was strep and it went into rheumatic fever.  She ended up in the hospital in Rogue River," Gail murmured.  "Died there.  EJ had to retrieve Johnston from camp for her funeral.  And, when he got home, the kitten was finally old enough to leave its mother, so Johnston brought it into the house." Gail offered them a sad smile.  "Susie's cat was the sweetest animal I ever knew.  She lived to be seventeen - I was pregnant with the boys - and for Johnston and EJ and Betsy, when she died, well, they lost the last bit of Susie that they had." 

Heather looked stricken.  "How awful!" April muttered, her eyes bright with tears.  She wiped them with the back of her hand.  "I knew that she'd died but -"

"Well, it's not something that Johnston or EJ ever talked about," Gail assured.  "I wouldn't have expected you to know.  I don't know that Jake and Eric know, actually."  She took a deep breath, folding her hands on the table before her.  "It's a little embarrassing to admit, but knowing what had happened made me feel better.  I could chalk Betsy's dislike of me - her preference for Susannah Lawson - up to the coincidence of their similar names.  And, I'm sure the fact that I was training in the same hospital where her daughter died didn't win me any points.  It gave me some patience with her that I sorely needed.  Hopefully that doesn't make me an awful person."

April shook her head.  "I don't think so."

"Not at all," Heather answered.  "Does make me glad that you hadn't decided Jake should marry Emily Sullivan, though," she sighed.

"I've - mostly - always liked Emily, but Jake made the right choice," Gail said, smiling.  She reached across the table, laying one hand over Heather's and then the other over April's.  "And so did Eric," she added.  "I certainly lucked out in the daughter-in-law department, and now in the grandma department, too."

"Girls," Heather nodded.  "We're goin' for girls."

"Exactly," April laughed.  "But that's just between us.  No reason to get the guys in a tizzy," she joked.  "So, after Johnston told you about Susie, what happened next?" she inquired, grinning knowingly.

Gail chuckled, shaking her head.  She withdrew her hands and sat up primly in her chair.  "I kissed him," she allowed, actually sounding a little bit embarrassed by her admission.  "How could I not?  Then," she sighed happily, "We drove back to Rogue River.  Curfew was eleven on Saturday nights, and we had time so we decided to go to the drive-in.  After that, he took me home."

"You went parking!" April accused, her eyes dancing in amusement.

Heather hit her sister-in-law on the arm.  "April!" she complained, "Don't!  That's like thinking about my parents making out."  She glanced at Gail, adding, "No offense."

"Let's just agree that I won't tell you any of my make out stories, and you won't tell me any of yours," Gail laughed.

"Deal," Heather returned, giggling.

"Skipping anything that may have occurred at the drive-in," Gail continued, straightening in her seat, "Johnston took me home.  We were ten minutes late, and I told him he didn't need to walk me in, but he insisted.  I knew that I was going to get a demerit from Mrs. McCormick, the house mother, but I could afford one, and I didn't want Johnston to know I was getting one."  She paused, shaking her head.  "What I didn't realize, though, was the power of the Green name in west Kansas.  I grew up in Rogue River, and I hadn't heard of the Greens, but Mrs. McCormick had.  EJ had helped her brother out of a jam fifteen years before, somehow.  Now, she'd heard I was engaged, but when it turned out I was engaged to Johnston Green, she couldn't shove that form away in the desk fast enough." 

Gail made a frustrated noise, rolling her eyes.  "All he had to do was introduce himself, smile, and tell her that it was all his fault, he'd taken me up to Jericho to have dinner with his folks, and he was very sorry to have me back late.  To be honest, I was a little annoyed.  Mrs. McCormick couldn't keep from fawning over Johnston," she chuckled.  "She said it was long drive back, and it was more important to drive safely than to rush for curfew.  I'd never heard anything like that come out of her mouth before," Gail sighed.  "And Johnston had already figured out he could do no wrong in Mrs. McCormick's eyes.  He even kissed me good night one more time before he left.  She just smiled and giggled and sent me upstairs.  Even more ridiculous was that, when I got to my room, Jenny took one look at me, pointed out the rather obvious hickey I was sporting, and asked how in the world I'd gotten past McCormick with that thing."

"Stop!" Heather ordered, groaning and holding up her hand.  "That's a make out story.  Off limits!"

"Sorry," Gail grinned unapologetically. 

April, laughing along with her mother-in-law, threw Heather a rather devilish grin.  "I remember a few weeks when you wore nothin' but turtlenecks, rather unseasonably, I might add."  Heather, already crimson, settled for shaking her head, which they took as a cue to laugh harder.  Sighing, April reached for the abandoned bowl of black-eyed peas, testing the temperature with her pinky finger.  "If you want to heat these up a little, we can see if our patient's up to having something to eat now," she informed Gail.

"If he needs sleep, we can let him sleep," Gail returned, her tone doubtful.

"He'd never admit it, but he likes the fussing, too," April smiled, pushing off the table in order to stand up.  "I should check on him, anyway."

"And I think I'm gonna walk downtown," Heather announced, climbing to her feet.  She took a deep breath, fanning herself, the blush beginning to fade from her cheeks.  "I have an errand to run.  Can I do anything for you two?" she asked.

Gail and April both shook their heads 'no'.  "What's your errand?" Gail inquired.

"That's a surprise," she answered.  "Besides, the chances it'll work out aren't that great, but I'm gonna try anyway.  I'll be back in a little bit," Heather assured.

"Okay," Gail agreed, already turning toward the kitchen.  "But you know, no one's been out to the ranch in three or four days," she said, frowning.  "If Jake and Eric don't show -"

"I'll go with you as soon as I get back," Heather offered.  "I haven't been out to see Baron in over a week.  I wanna check in on my puppy," she admitted, frowning for affect.  She looked at April.  "Or do you want to go?"

"Your puppy weighs nearly a hundred pounds," April laughed.  "And, I'm happy to stay here and hold down the fort," she continued, resting her hand over her still-flat abdomen.  "I'm feelin' like I should stick close to home."

Gail nodded her agreement.  "We'll leave when you get back," she decided, looking at Heather.  "I've even got some scraps I've been saving for your puppy," she smiled.  "Now be careful downtown," she admonished.  Gail glanced between her two daughters-in-law, beaming at them.  "That goes for both you, from here on out.  Those are my grandchildren you're carrying, and I have a vested interest."

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

Monday, October 29, five years before the bombs

Jake sidled up behind Heather, wrapping both his arms around her waist and pressing himself against her back.  "Hafta tell ya, half your students don't get greatest common denominator at all," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and then her ear. 

"I know," she sighed, giggling softly as he worried her earlobe, "And trust me, of the half who look like they get it, it's really just their parents."  Jake's lips drifted to her neck, but Heather, trembling slightly, persevered.  "I'm movin' to visual aids and games tomorrow."

"So you conned me into correcting homework you knew was bad?" Jake teased, grazing her sensitive skin with his teeth.

"No!" she squealed, elbowing him reflexively as his continued assault on her neck sent an electrified shiver up her spine.  "Not exactly," she insisted, starting to giggle again.  "They could've surprised me," Heather argued, abandoning her Rice Krispie mixture, warming on the stove, to turn around within the circle of his arms.  "Well, you, I guess," she added, offering Jake a teasing grin that drew his mouth down upon hers.

He kissed her thoroughly, and they were both panting when he finally pulled away to survey her efforts.  "No offense, babe, but I think you're doin' this wrong," Jake said, watching over Heather's shoulder as she turned around to continue stirring their dessert.  He pointed at the unopened bag of marshmallows sitting on the counter.  "You forgot the most important ingredient."

Heather shook her head, glancing back at him for just a second.  "Nah," she contradicted with a shrug, "I just decided to make a different kind.  You'll like these, I promise," she told him, pouring two more cups of cereal into the pan.

"Uh-huh," Jake muttered noncommittally, resting both his hands on her shoulders.  He started to massage her neck with his thumbs, pulling a moan from Heather.  "I'll believe that when I see it," he teased, twisting her hair up and out of his way so he could press a line of kisses down the back of her neck.

"These aren't gonna taste good at all if you keep distracting me," Heather complained half-heartedly.

"S'okay," he whispered against the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  "You taste good," he told her, starting to trace her collarbone with his mouth.  "That's all I need."

She lurched away from him, bumping against the stove.  "Jake!" she protested, spinning around.  Heather pointed a Rice Krispie coated wooden spoon at him threateningly.  "You are dangerous," she accused, laughing, attempting a glare.  "Step back, mister," she commanded, waving her spoon at him.

Heather blushed softly, adding a rosy glow to her skin.  Her eyes shone with amusement, and her loose hair was slightly wild from his playing with it.  She was gorgeous, Jake couldn't help but think, and adorable, and quickly becoming everything he could think to ask for out of life.  He allowed a husky laugh and took the step back as ordered.  "Good idea," he agreed, their gazes locked. 

Rotating on his heel, Jake gracelessly maneuvered his way the ten feet across the room to the table, and then threw himself down in his chair.  Letting out a very long, very deep breath, he watched Heather turn slowly back to the stove.  Jake ran a nervous hand through his hair and then, blowing out another breath, reached for the green pen she'd given him for marking papers, forcing himself back to the task.

Ten minutes later, the last of the math homework checked and most of his equilibrium restored, Jake sat back in his chair to study Heather.  She was humming to herself, a habit he'd noticed in her the first day they'd met when his grandfather had invited her to stay for dinner.  Heather had insisted on helping, and had hummed the entire time she'd spent setting the table.  It was a habit that she seemed largely unaware of, though occasionally she'd go from humming to singing, invariably surprising and embarrassing herself.  She'd started to sing earlier in the evening while they'd been putting dinner together, managing a few lines of a pop song he'd already forgotten, before she'd stopped, blushing and apologizing.  Jake, in the middle of dicing a tomato for their salad, had interrupted, telling her that he liked her voice, and that he liked listening to her.  Heather had smiled shyly at him, thanking him.  Then she'd cleared her throat, singing a few more lines of the song before going back to humming.

"Hey," he said softly, pulling himself up from his chair and walking toward her.  "All done."

"Thanks," Heather smiled at him, forcing the last of the sticky mass of Rice Krispies into a metal cake pan.  "And, you know, you really didn't have to."

Jake shrugged.  "No big deal."

"Well, you definitely deserve a reward," she decided, offering him the wooden spoon.  "All yours if you want it."

"Oh, so you're gonna make me test your weird marshmallow-free Rice Krispie treats," he teased, accepting the spoon. 

Heather shook her head.  "Trust me," she insisted, grinning, "You're gonna like it."

She watched Jake as he finally tasted the tip of the spoon.  He smiled at her, his eyes widening.  "Peanut butter?" he guessed.

"Yeah," she smiled, pulling the dirty pot off the stove and then carrying it to the sink.  "Thought that'd be right up your alley," she told him, laughing.  She turned on the tap, filling the pot so it could soak before she attempted to clean it.  Heather twisted back around to face Jake, drying her hands on the back of her jeans.  "So whaddya think?"

"I'm thinkin' I like yours better," Jake admitted, chuckling softly.  He took two steps toward her, backing her up into the sink.  Holding the spoon out to her, he asked, "Want some?"  Heather picked the last few recoverable clumps off the wooden spoon, and then Jake reached around her to deposit it in the soaking pot.  "Hello," he grinned, brushing his mouth lightly over hers.

"Hello," she returned, smiling into his kiss.  Jake had trapped her again, but Heather couldn't find it in herself to mind one bit.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her hands together.  He took immediate advantage of the situation by pressing his face against her shoulder.  Feeling ticklish as his lips began to roam once more, Heather laughed softly.  "You know," she began, running her fingers through his hair before resting her hand on the back of his head, cupping it, "I was gonna make a topping."

That was enough to get Jake's attention, and he lifted his head, pulling back far enough that he could look into her eyes.  Heather dropped her arms, encircling his waist.  "What kinda topping?" he inquired.

Standing on tiptoe, Heather pressed her mouth to Jake's.  "Peanut butter and butterscotch," she whispered, catching his lower lip between her own.  "Maybe peanut butter and chocolate."

"I vote butterscotch," Jake murmured before capturing her head with both his hands and kissing her again.

"Okay," she declared when they finally pulled apart, "But you're gonna need to stay three - five - feet back if I'm gonna make a topping," Heather laughed.

"Fine," Jake replied, emitting a put-upon sigh.  He turned around, making a show of pacing off three feet before rotating to face her.  He folded his hands behind his back, and grinned at Heather.  "Yes, Miss Lisinski," he said in a perfect imitation of her students, right down to the slightly nasally twang that always seemed to creep in when they answered her in unison, and their slightly lispy pronunciation of the double 'S' sound. 

Heather shook her head, fighting a smile.  "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, stepping to the right and opening a cupboard. 

Jake watched as she pulled down a couple of bags of baking chips before retrieving butter from the refrigerator.  He moved to the sink and leaned back against it, elbows propped on the drain board, legs crossed in front of him.  Heather looked over at him, prompting Jake to shrug.  "Three feet," he reminded, "Just mindin' my own business."

"Sure," Heather returned, rolling her eyes.  She plopped a sliver of butter in a saucepan and then added most of the two bags of chips on top.   Risking a quick glance in his direction, Heather caught Jake staring at her openly, admiringly.  He winked at her then, smirking slightly.  Heather turned back to the stove, and stirred the candy together furiously even though it hadn't yet begun to melt.  Thirty seconds later, she looked at Jake again, finding the same calm and appraising expression on his face.  "Jake," she protested, obviously flustered, blushing.

Standing, Jake held his hands up in surrender.  "What?" he asked, offering her his most innocent look.  "I'm just over here - more than three feet away - as ordered."

"You're -" she began, but then cut herself off.  "Never mind," Heather grumbled, returning her attention to the contents of the saucepan.  She poked at the chips in the pan, turning them over with her spoon, desperately searching for something to say if only to take her mind off the itch that was developing on the left side of her face under Jake's intense gaze.  "So, what'd you do today?" Heather demanded, risking another glance in his direction before finally giving into the urge to rub her cheek.

"Sold three horses," he replied easily.  "Gramps had a buyer in from somewhere near Lincoln.  Most everything was already negotiated, but he did bring his vet in for a medical examination, and I took 'em for a test drive, so to speak."

Heather chuckled, grinning at Jake.  "It never would occur to me to test drive a horse.  I just try to stay in the saddle, and call it good," she joked, sighing.  "I guess it's kinda like a car, though you probably don't want to kick the tires."

"Uh, no," Jake agreed.  "A horse'll kick back, and I've been kicked a few times.  Believe me, not a fun experience."  He shrugged, explaining, "I just took 'em up the same trail we went on.  And you were doing a lot more than staying in the saddle yesterday," Jake assured her.  "The buyer was a big shot lawyer with three, four daughters.  The oldest's already barrel racing, and she was lookin' for a new horse.  She - Missy - was with him, and her coach," he continued. "They spent most of the afternoon in an empty corral, making sure they could work with the horses."

"And I was thrilled to death when my parents got me a brand new bike," Heather returned, shaking her head.  "I can't imagine asking for and getting a new horse."

"You've heard of soccer moms?" Jake asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes.  "Well, this guy's definitely a rodeo dad.  Gramps was goin' to dinner with 'em tonight, and they wanted me to come along, but I said I had plans."

"Hanging out with me is not 'plans'," Heather argued, glancing at Jake.  The chips were melting now, and she stirred them slowly, trying to keep them from sticking to the bottom of the pan and burning.  "You could've gone to dinner if you wanted to," she told him.  "Or if Gramps needed you to."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," Jake answered. 

Their gazes met again, and she offered him a gentle smile.  Before either could say anything else, the phone rang.  Heather, letting out a held breath, looked at it, and then back at Jake.  "Can you check the number for me?" she requested.

Nodding, Jake crossed the kitchen and picked up the cordless handset, looking at the display on the back.  "It's April," he told Heather, recognizing his sister-in-law's cell phone number.  Thumbing the 'on' button, he answered.  "Hey, April."

"Jake?"

"Yes," he replied, walking across the kitchen.  "Who else?" he asked, leaning back against the counter adjacent to the stove.  "Besides Heather, I mean," Jake added, catching her free hand in his own and squeezing it. 

"I could've hit the wrong button," April countered.  "You and Eric sound exactly alike on the phone, you know."

"I'm just sayin', if your husband is answering my girlfriend's phone, we've both got big problems," he joked, earning him an eye roll from Heather. 

At the other end, April laughed.  "Well, that's true," she agreed.  "So, Jake, what're you two up to tonight?  Playing house?" she teased.

"Quiet night in, that's all," he responded, clearing his throat.  Heather removed the pan from the heat, and took two steps away in order to pour the sauce over the top of the pan of Rice Krispie treats.  "Did you know you can make Rice Krispie treats with peanut butter?" Jake questioned in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

"In theory, yes," April answered.  "Never tried it myself."  She paused for a few seconds before continuing.  "So Heather made you peanut butter Rice Krispie treats?  You must be in heaven."  April chuckled.  "You do realize that she's ruining you for any other woman."

"Well, I think I'm good with that," Jake returned, watching Heather as she gathered her hair together in her free hand.  She tucked it down the back of her blouse to keep it out of her way while she worked, revealing a suspicious, reddening mark on the side of her neck. 

Jake snickered, a crooked grin curling his lips.  Heather shot him an odd look, asking, "What?"

Simultaneously, April demanded, "What's going on?"  Without waiting for him to answer, she provided her own.  "You two!  You're flirting right now, aren't you, while you're on phone with me."

"You called us," Jake reminded, "We didn't call you."  He held the phone down, away from his mouth, addressing Heather.  "Nothing," he assured her softly.  He continued, adding loudly, "April thinks she's funny."

"I heard that," April informed him a few seconds later.  "And, actually, I called Heather," she corrected.  "Not you.  Or have you moved in?" she inquired sweetly.

Shaking his head, Jake held the phone out to Heather.  "It's for you," he muttered.  She nodded and, after making one last attempt to distribute the topping evenly over the Rice Krispie treats, reached for the phone.  Jake pulled it back, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.  He leaned over and kissed her before finally handing her the phone.  "Now it's for you," he said, grinning.

"Hi, April," Heather greeted, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could carry the saucepan and spatula to the sink.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" April demanded, chuckling.  "You do realize that you're spoiling Jake shamelessly, right?"

"Shamelessly?" Heather questioned, laughing along with April.  She turned on the tap and then added dish soap to the filling pot, stirring it with the spatula.  "I was just trying to make up for not letting him buy chocolate-coated marshmallow ghosts."

"Yuck," April groaned.  "Eric likes those too.  But the chocolate's so waxy and I'm not such a big fan of marshmallows."

"Except in Rice Krispie treats," Heather suggested.

"Exactly," April agreed.

Heather turned around, laughing softly to when she caught Jake eyeing the cooling pan of Rice Krispie treats.  He looked ready to dig in.  "You have to let it cool or you'll burn yourself," she told him.  "But put it in the fridge to speed it up if you want."

"Seriously spoiled," April muttered on the other end of the line.  In the next moment, though, she was giggling.  "So, I take it you two are having a good evening?"

"No complaints so far," Heather sighed, following Jake with her eyes as he took her suggestion and carried the cooling pan to the refrigerator.  "Where are you?" she asked then.  "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"  April had left for Rogue River from Sunday dinner the night before, bemoaning the twenty-four hour shift she had before her. 

"Halfway home to Jericho on Route 40," April sighed.  "I was starting to nod off, so I'm calling you to keep me awake.  Eric's at the town council meeting."

"April, that's dangerous! You shouldn't drive and talk on the phone," Heather admonished. 

"You also shouldn't drive and sleep at the same time," April yawned.  "This is the lesser of two evils.  Keep talking to me!  What did you have for dinner?"


"Spaghetti and salad.  You?" Heather answered, just as Jake approached her and reached for her free hand.  He laced their fingers together, pulling her toward the living room.  "Hold on a sec, I'm being moved," Heather told April.

"A somewhat suspicious tuna sandwich from the vending machine," April returned.  "You're being moved?"

"Uh, yeah," Heather replied distractedly.  "Jake's making me go into the living room."

He took the phone from Heather before she could say anything else, or April could respond.  "You can talk to her, but I get to curl up on the couch with her.  That's the deal."

It took April a few seconds to answer, and when she did Jake found himself imagining that she was smiling against her will.  "Deal," she laughed.  "Just, please, keep the kissy noises to minimum."

"Not makin' any promises," Jake retorted before giving the phone back to Heather.

"No promises?" Heather questioned, studying Jake, who settled for a shrug and a grin and a gentle tug on her arm to bring her down on the couch next to him. 

"Apparently I was making unreasonable demands," April explained as Jake wrapped his arm around Heather.

Jake let go of Heather long enough to retrieve the remote from the coffee table so he could tune the TV to Monday Night Football.  Football was his least favorite sport to watch, especially on television, but Jake figured it would at least give him something to do while Heather was on the phone.  He settled back into the couch, and she moved back into his arms, kissing his jaw absently while April was talking.  Jake kept one eye on the game - Pittsburgh was creaming Tennessee - and one ear tuned into Heather's end of the conversation.  During a commercial break he glanced at her, smiling at her obvious animation.  He studied her neck, confirming his earlier suspicions; he had in fact left his mark.  Jake knew he'd likely pay for that later, but for now he was just a little bit proud of himself.  Kissing Heather just below her free ear, he muttered, "Tell April to start listenin' for 'kissy noises'."

Heather turned her head so she was facing him.  Jake kissed the corner of her mouth, complete with sound effects.  "You're crazy," she informed him, laughing.  "Jake says you should be listening for 'kissy noises'," she explained into the phone.  Smiling, she held the phone away from herself and, grasping Jake's chin with her free hand, she pressed her mouth to his.  "There," Heather announced, pulling away much too quickly as far as Jake was concerned, "That should hold him for a bit."

"Not likely," Jake argued, grumbling.  From the phone, he could hear April laughing.

Laying her head against Jake's shoulder, Heather returned to her conversation with April.  From what he could hear on Heather's end, they seemed to flit from topic to topic, most of it random and of very little interest to Jake.  The football game came back on, and he concentrated on it for a few minutes, holding Heather's hand in his own, stroking it with his thumb. 

Eventually April and Heather's conversation turned to a novel they'd both read as teenagers, or at least that was what Jake pieced together from what Heather said.  "I read that too!" she'd exclaimed in answer to something April had said or asked.  "I think I was fourteen.  Talk about a shocker.  I actually went to Confession and confessed it," she'd laughed.  That was enough to pique Jake's interest, but as their discussion continued, he couldn't make much out.  He thought the book's title might be Emmeline, but he wasn't certain of even that much. 

"Well, that was the worst part," Heather sighed.  "Well, until the next worst part with Matthew and everything at the end.  But - and this is really bad - my cousin Jessica read it too, and this is how she summed up Emmeline's whole attitude towards Maguire."  Heather took a breath, and then affecting a voice that Jake guessed had to be her most outlandish imitation of a young girl, said, "Can I play with your dollhouse?"  She began to giggle uncontrollably, and Jake could hear April laughing again - even louder this time - at the other end of the call. 

"Oh dear," Heather giggled softly a few moments later, having glanced at Jake.  His expression was equal parts amused, puzzled, and disturbed.  "I think I've freaked Jake out," she told April, her gaze locking with his.

"I know what you're talking about, and I almost ran off the road," April complained, attempting to calm herself by taking a deep breath.

"Sorry," Heather apologized to them both.  Her eyes still on Jake, she offered him a smile and then reminded, "Dessert should be cool by now, if you want to get it out of the fridge." 

"'Kay," Jake agreed, shaking his head at her.  He leaned over to kiss her, and then pulled his arm loose from behind her.  Heather shivered at the loss of Jake's warm body beside her.  "Be right back," he promised.

"You know, I'm only about ten minutes from home now," April told Heather then.  "And, I'm awake.  So I suppose I can stop horning in on your evening, and let you get back to what you'd rather be doing."

"Well, I do have spelling tests to grade," Heather agreed.

"Yeah, right," April snorted.  "I don't think that's what you'd rather be doing.  You can get up a half hour early tomorrow to grade spelling," she argued.  "Go back to spoiling Jake."

Smiling, Heather nodded, forgetting for a moment that April couldn't see her.  "Okay then," she giggled.  "Night, April."

"Good night," April returned, and then Heather heard her hang up. 

Heather walked into the kitchen.  Jake had the pan of Rice Krispie treats out, and was cutting them into squares with a spatula.  It was slow-going however, because he was also eating one.  "Hey," he smiled at her, taking another bite.  "These are great!" 

He extracted one from the pan and held it out to Heather.  She accepted it, smiling.  "Thank you.  So," she teased, "Next batch I make, regular old marshmallow or -"

"Peanut butter," Jake interrupted, as she stepped toward him.  This time, she was the one who trapped him against the counter.  "Definitely peanut butter," he repeated, brushing his mouth over hers.

* * * * *

"Let the machine get it," April groaned, leaning against Eric.  After she'd gotten home from Rogue River she'd tried to wait up for him, but had fallen asleep on the couch.  Eric had kissed her awake, apologizing for being so late and grumbling about a two hour debate over The S&A Mining Company's permit request to install a stoplight at their main gate. 

"There isn't a stoplight in the whole town, and Gray Anderson wants to stop traffic out on Route 40 so he doesn't have to make an unprotected left turn," he'd complained, helping her stand.  He'd taken a good look at April then and, pulling her into his arms, Eric had kissed her temple, murmuring "Poor, tired baby.  Let's get you to bed."

April had waited while Eric had double-checked the lock on the front door, and then, arm-in-arm they'd started for their bedroom, passing through the kitchen when the phone had started to ring.  "We better wait though," April decided, yawning.  "Nobody calls this late unless it's an emergency."

Eric pressed his face against the top of her head, muttering, "Well, if it's an emergency for me, it can wait 'til tomorrow."  The machine picked up the call finally, and Eric's perfunctory message played, inviting their caller to leave a message. 

"April?  Darn it," their caller began frantically.  "I know it's late but if you're there, I have - I'm having a small medical emergency, and I could really, really use some advice." 

"It's Heather," April said, frowning, glancing up at Eric.  "I'm sorry," she added, pulling away from him.  "I should probably get it."  Eric closed his eyes and nodded, while she crossed the room, picking up the phone just as Heather was saying good bye, after having asked April to call her back as soon as she could - day or night.  "Hi, Heather," April greeted through a yawn, "What's up?"

"Oh, thank God," Heather answered in a rush of breath.  "I'm really sorry to bother you, especially since it's so late, but Jake just left and I was getting ready for bed, and -"  She paused, taking a deep breath.  "Oh God," she muttered, "He gave me a hickey, I'm pretty sure.  April," Heather implored, "You've gotta - how - what do I do to get rid of it!?!"

April chuckled sympathetically.  "Oh, Heather, I don't know.  That's kinda outside my area of expertise.  It's not completely medical."

"You don't understand," Heather argued.  "I have to go to school tomorrow.  The PTA president hates me, and her son is in my class, and she walks him in every day just so can check up on me.  If she sees this - this thing," she groaned, "I'm so screwed."

"No, you're not," April clucked comfortingly.  "Hold on a sec," she requested, turning around to face Eric, holding the phone against her shoulder.  "I think this may take some time," she told him, her expression bemused.  "I'm sorry," April said, stepping toward him.  Taking his hand, she squeezed it.  "You go to bed, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"April, you're exhausted," Eric protested.  "If it's not medical, can't it wait 'til tomorrow?"

She offered him a tired smile.  "Not completely medical," she corrected.  "And, I should take this.  She's kinda upset."

Eric shook his head, heaving a put-upon sigh.  "What did Jake do?" he complained.  "What's wrong with her?"

"I can't," April insisted, pursing her lips.  She stared at him, trying to get her point across; Eric just stared back.  "She's embarrassed," April explained softly.  She raised the phone from her shoulder and spoke into it.  "I'm still here, promise.  But I need another second."

"Okay," Heather agreed, "But hurry.  I think it's getting bigger," she complained.

April tucked the phone back against her shoulder, stifling a laugh.  "You don't know this," she told Eric. "I will have to do something very bad to you if you ever say anything," she warned.  April took a breath and then mouthed more than spoke, "Jake gave Heather a hickey."

"Oh man," Eric snickered, "He's gonna pay for that."

"Probably," April agreed, chuckling.  "And so will you if you say anything," she reminded, shaking a finger at him.  "Now go."

Eric brushed his lips across her forehead.  "'Kay," he agreed yawning.  "You know," he added, shrugging and taking a step back, "When we were growin' up, Jake always said that if you put toothpaste on it, waited fifteen minutes, and then scrubbed it with your toothbrush, it helps."

"But that'd take your skin off," April frowned.  "And what in the world is the toothpaste for?"

"Good questions.  And, probably why Jake didn't tell her himself," Eric answered.  "I'm goin' to bed."

She waited until Eric was completely out of the kitchen before raising the phone to her ear.  "Sorry," she breathed, moving to the table and taking a seat.  "Eric wasn't taking a hint," April explained.

Heather didn't even bother to acknowledge the apology.  "April, what do I do!?!?" she demanded immediately, a hysterical edge to her tone.

"Well, in the end, it's a bruise," April answered, clearing her throat and going into doctor mode.  "How long ago did it happen?"

"I don't know!" Heather wailed in response.  "Sometime between six and eleven!"

April covered her face with her hand, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.  "Okay," she began, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm assuming this is your first hickey?"

Heather's "Yes," was barely audible.

"Okay, and where is it?"

"My neck," Heather admitted, suddenly reluctant to say anything.

"Where on your neck?" April questioned gently.  "Your neck goes all the way around."

"Sorry," Heather apologized, sniffling.  "On my neck, about and inch and a half below, and a little behind, my ear.  It might be turning purple."

"It probably is.  It's a bruise," April repeated.  "And, for a bruise you do cold compresses and elevate.  Obviously you can't elevate, but put some ice on it.  Still," she reminded, "It's not going to go away overnight.  You're gonna have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.  Or a scarf, since it's gonna be in the seventies."

"This is a nightmare," Heather complained.  "I'm gonna kill Jake."

"Well, he does deserve to be smacked, that's for sure," April agreed, massaging the bridge of her nose with one finger.  "You can try make-up to cover it, but that's risky.  Rubs off, and around all those kids -"

"Yeah, that won't work," Heather confirmed.  "I'd be nervous about it all day, and end up sweating it off by the ten o'clock recess."

"Well then, ice it, and dress to conceal tomorrow.  The tried and true.  Unfortunately, I don't have a miracle cure."  April tapped a finger on the table, trying to decide whether or not to pass along Jake's advice - anonymously.  She doubted Heather would appreciate it if she knew the source.  April was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed, but she also wasn't going to say good bye to Heather until she was sure the younger woman was calm and armed with a plan of action.  "Well, there's one more thing that I've heard, but I don't really think it works," she began reluctantly.

"April, I'm desperate," Heather assured.  "I'll consider just about anything."

"Okay then," April acknowledged, taking a deep breath.  "What you gotta do is put toothpaste on it, leave it on for fifteen minutes, and then scrub it with your toothbrush."

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Jake stood near the eastern end of the Tacoma Bridge, looking back toward town, trying to focus his thoughts.  Although he still didn't like or trust Gray Anderson, he was glad of the other man's foresight - if not his initiative - in setting up checkpoints on some of the western roads coming into town.  They were scrambling now, still trying to play catch-up, but at least that was one weight off his mind.  Bill and Eric had things under control in town, and now he and Robert Hawkins were working to secure the bridge, their most immediate need at this point.

A truck as ancient as Heather's 'Charlotte', though in better condition, turned onto the bridge.  Jake glanced at Hawkins, standing a few feet away, maintaining the same vigil, and then returned his attention to the truck.  It drew nearer, passing the few volunteers - no more than twenty - who had already made it out from town.  They were standing around in small groups, obviously nervous, clutching their hunting rifles awkwardly.  He crossed his fingers, hoping that Bill and Eric would be able to raise more help as they worked to stockpile weapons and ammunition. 

Shading his eyes with his hand, Jake finally identified Clyde Davis as the truck's driver; Jimmy Taylor was riding shotgun.  Clyde pulled to a stop, turning off the engine, and Jake stepped forward to give direction.  "Get as many guys as you can," he instructed.  "There's a farm up the road with a couple of dead trucks.  Bring them back here, and we'll use them as a barricade."  With that, Jake knocked on the hood, signaling that they should go. 

"Got it," Jimmy agreed, giving Jake a 'thumbs up'.  Clyde started the truck and, once Jake had taken a step back, put it into gear.

"You think that'll make a difference?" Hawkins asked from beside Jake, his perfectly neutral tone grating on Jake's nerves.

"It's better than nothin'," he retorted, wiping his mouth distractedly.  Jake started to walk away, intending to check in with and reassure the volunteers already on hand, only to stop short when Hawkins called after him.

"This isn't your first run in with Ravenwood, is it?" He spoke loudly enough that there was no way Jake could claim he hadn't heard, but quietly enough that no one else could have possibly heard the question.

Jake stopped in his tracks, spinning around and advancing on Hawkins, his expression wholly suspicious.  "Why?" he demanded, getting to the other man's face.

"You go off on your road trip," Hawkins shrugged, his countenance revealing no emotion.  "All of a sudden, they're headed for Jericho.  Would've thought you'd be more careful s'all."

Even in a thoughtless, knee-jerk response there was no chance that Jake would betray his brother and lay blame at Eric's feet for the impending arrival of Ravenwood in Jericho.  The Greens, for all their internal squabbling, understood loyalty and they knew when to circle the wagons.  As often as Jake was at odds with his brother, he'd always protect and defend him to outsiders.  Jake glared at Hawkins.  "You think I led them here on purpose?"

Hawkins remained maddeningly calm.  "Hey," he returned, holding up one hand, "I'm just tryin' to put the pieces together, Jake."

"You need to put the pieces together?" Jake snorted, expelling an aggravated breath.  "You want this to all make sense?  'Kay then.  You're a cop," he reminded.  "You ever work undercover?"

"Did three, four years in the anti-gang unit, most of if undercover," Hawkins conceded, his gaze unwavering.  "You work undercover, Jake?"

Jake returned Hawkins' stare, his jaw clenched.  "My last assignment, I was investigating Ravenwood.  I thought I knew the worst of them."  He shook his head.  "Then we went to Rogue River.  Ravenwood liquidated that hospital.  And, I mean liquidate in the Warsaw Ghetto sense."  He paused to take a breath, grinding one clenched fist against his thigh.  "They murdered the patients in their beds, and the doctors and nurses when they tried to protect 'em.  Massacred nearly two hundred people.  So let me make it easy for you," Jake snapped.  "My family lives in Jericho -"

"So does mine," Hawkins interrupted, his nostrils flaring, offering the first glimpse of feeling Jake had detected in him all morning, maybe ever.

"Everything I do, I do to protect them," Jake continued, talking over Hawkins.  He closed his eyes momentarily, picturing Heather as he'd last seen her: sleepy, hair tousled, hers finger twined with his, love and trust obvious in her eyes and smile.  Taking a deep breath, he silently renewed his earlier promise to himself to keep her safe.

"Same here, man," Hawkins returned.  "Look.  Your wife's pregnant, right?" 

Jake's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  Heather's pregnancy was fairly common knowledge in Jericho now, but he didn't believe for one second that Hawkins brought it up for any but the most calculated of reasons.

Hawkins held up his hand again, laughing softly.  "Hey, Jimmy mentioned something, that's all.  Seemed real happy for you and your wife.  And look, I only bring it up 'cause I know where you're coming from, and I know where you're gonna be coming from," he explained.  "Trust me," he muttered, chuckling softly at Jake's immediate frown.  "For guys like you and me, what we do, it only gets harder when you have kids."  Hawkins paused, offering Jake his usual enigmatic grin.  "Let's work together," he suggested, "For your family and mine."

"Fine then," Jake declared.  "Let's stop screwin' around and get it done."  With that, he turned on his heel, and walked away.

A half hour later, Jake was feeling marginally better about how things were going, not that that had stopped the nervous churning of his stomach.  More volunteers had arrived from town, and he watched as Hawkins and four other men pushed a third car into place, completing most of the first row of their barricade.  They had a few working vehicles - none of which they could afford to lose - positioned just behind the junked cars they'd brought in, offering some additional protection, but Jake was still hoping they'd have time to assemble a second and third row, anything that would slow Ravenwood down. 

"Good!" Hawkins announced.  "Okay, we're going to need another car," he continued, clapping one of the volunteers on the shoulder to get his attention.  "Put it here," he ordered, pointing to a space in front of the three foot gap in their line.

Jake finished up his conversation with two S&A Mining Company employees and turned, following a step behind Hawkins, who was concentrated on examining his handgun; everyone was jittery and everyone had been checking and re-checking their weapons regularly as they waited for something to happen.  "Let me guess," Jake drawled from Hawkins elbow, "This isn't your first run in with these guys either."

Hawkins ignored the jibe.  "There's only one thing I need to know from you, Jake," he said, not bothering to look at the younger man.

"What?" Jake returned, annoyed.

Finally glancing at Jake, Hawkins took his rifle and began to inspect it.  Looking the gun over, Hawkins snorted.  "Would you even know when you were in over your head?"

Jake stood next to Hawkins, both of them staring down the highway at the groups of men pushing another two vehicles down the road for use in the barricade.  "Usually, if someone's shooting in my direction, I figure that I may be in over my head," Jake muttered.

Hawkins allowed a short bark of laughter, looking sideways at the younger man.  Jake's jaw was obviously clenched, but he gave no other sign of how he was feeling.  "This may very well end up a shooting war," Hawkins suggested.

"Probably," Jake acknowledged.

The men who were bringing the cars down the road abandoned them suddenly.  They ran for the bridge, yelling, their shouts carried on the wind, reaching Jake and Hawkins.  "They're here!  They're here!"

Jake hit Hawkins on the arm, and they both sprang to action.  Hawkins began to holler at the men on the bridge and at the men running for safety.  "Hey!  They're here! Cmon, c'mon!"  He waved and shoved men behind the barricade.  "Just run!  C'mon!  C'mon! Hustle!"

"C'mon!" Jake shouted, adding to the commotion.  "Let's go!  Let's go!"

Hawkins ducked behind an overturned car.  "Take your positions!" he barked at the men who made up their small, unprepared army.  "Check your clips, safety's off.  C'mon, everybody!  Remember what we talked about!"

Waiting until the last of the men from the road were behind their meager fortification, Jake watched two black humvees come barreling up, and then screech to a stop thirty or forty feet away.  The knot in his stomach grew with his resolve.  He moved behind the barricade, calling out his own order.  "Nobody fires until I say so!"

"Everybody remember to breathe," Hawkins continued, walking the line of men now in position, their rifles at the ready.  "All right.  The most important thing to do before squeezing the trigger is to breathe."

A menacing looking man, dressed in what Jake recognized as standard Ravenwood issue, swaggered forward.  "Somebody here want to talk to me?" he shouted.  The men from Jericho remained silent, their rifles trained on the Ravenwood operatives, many of whom stood around, brazenly, in the open.  "Whoever's in charge," the apparent leader started again, "This road needs to be cleared.  We're under government orders to collect supplies."

Again, there was silence, ratcheting up the tension of the standoff.  A shot rang out from the Jericho side.  It wasn't until hours later that Jake learned that Ridley Cooper, one of Gray Anderson's managers, had fired his rifle accidentally.  All hell broke loose as the Ravenwood contingent immediately returned fire with their semi-automatic weapons, riddling the vehicles that made up the barricade with bullets.  The men from Jericho cowered behind it, scared and praying for their lives.

The rat-a-tat-tat of Ravenwood's weapons seemed to go on forever, though in reality it was less than thirty seconds.  Jake heard the group leader shouting.  "Hold your fire!" he ordered his men.  "Listen up!" he yelled as the last of the gunfire petered out.  "We're here on government orders to collect supplies," he repeated.  "Your cooperation is mandatory!  Understood?  Mandatory!"

Leaning back into the safety of the shell of the vehicle he hid behind, Jake clenched his teeth, swearing angrily.  "Damn!"

The group leader continued, his tone strident.  "When I get back here, this bridge better be cleared, or I'll clear it myself," he threatened.  "You've got four hours.  Understood?"  Without bothering to wait for an answer that he knew wasn't coming, he turned on his heel, striding back to his humvee.  Waving his finger in a circle, he commanded his men.  "Let's roll!"

The Ravenwood humvees were turned around and speeding down the highway in a matter of seconds.  Jake watched them go, breathing hard, his mind racing as he considered the matter.  There hadn't been more than ten in the Ravenwood group - to their forty - but they'd been outgunned anyway.  He knew that when they returned they were likely to bring more.  The men from Ravenwood were thugs with the ability to do one thing well, and that was spray gunfire at anything that moved.  He was working with a bunch of desperate and committed amateurs, men who labored on their farms or at the mine, and maybe went hunting once or twice a year.  Jake knew that there was no way for Jericho to prevail, not if it came down to a shootout.

Gray Anderson stumbled forward, his rifle clutched in both hands.  Jake glanced at him quickly, taking in his ashen pallor and wide eyes.  "What the hell are we gonna do?" he demanded, his voice breaking softly.  "There's no way we can hold this bridge."

Taking a step forward, Jake threw his rifle down on the hood of the last car they'd managed to position before Ravenwood's arrival.  "Gonna hafta take it out," he answered, still studying the departing humvees.  He couldn't see any other possible way to secure Jericho and protect her people.

"I agree," Hawkins confirmed.

"What're you sayin'?" Gray questioned softly, looking between Jake and Hawkins.

"There can't be a bridge," Jake decided, shaking his head.

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

In case I'm showing my age by including Heckle and Jeckle, just know that they're a pair of cartoon birds. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heckle_and_Jeckle)

Also, the book that Heather and April discuss is Emmeline by Judith Rossner.  My copy is from 1981, though according to Amazon it was re-released in 1998, and is once again out of print.  Emmeline is an inside joke (as is "Can I play with your dollhouse?") I have with a couple of college friends.  I needed something and I went with it.

Lastly, Heather made Sherry's peanut butter Rice Krispie treat recipe.

Different Circumstances: Part 9B of ? by Marzee Doats

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Shaking his head at his brother's stubbornness, Jake exited town hall, his rifle clutched loosely in his hand.  As soon as the Ravenwood vehicles had been out of sight, Jake had motioned Jimmy Taylor over, informing him, Robert Hawkins and Gray Anderson that they needed to get back to town and talk to Eric.  They had all agreed with him, and Gray had tried to put Ridley Cooper in charge while they were gone.  Surprisingly, it had been Jimmy who'd argued most vehemently against this choice - for reasons Jake only learned later - and Clyde Davis had been appointed instead, mainly because they would be borrowing his truck.

At town hall, they'd filled Eric in on everything that had happened out at the bridge, as well as their plan.  He had surprised them all with his opposition.  Jake, Gray and Hawkins had argued with Eric, while Jimmy and Bill had stood silently at the back of the room, their loyalties divided.   Eric had stood firm, refusing to consider blowing up the Tacoma Bridge, going so far as to order Bill to lock up the explosives.  It had left an odd taste in Jake's mouth to find himself fighting on the same side as Gray Anderson, especially considering that he could have cheerfully strangled the man two days before.  It wasn't even satisfying to see the tables turned on Eric; he'd shouted them down, not caring one bit that they were united in their determination and purpose to protect Jericho from the menace of Ravenwood. 

Jake glanced up, watching as Jimmy turned around and hurried off, apparently on some errand for Robert Hawkins.  He jogged down the steps, reaching Hawkins and Gray in time to hear Hawkins say, "...round up as much diesel and fertilizer as I can, and meet you back at the bridge."  With barely a nod in Jake's direction, Hawkins headed off to complete his self-appointed task.

"He's makin' explosives?" Jake asked, frowning sourly.  He couldn't help but recall for an instance his conversation with Heather a mere ten hours before regarding fertilizer.  Gray nodded, and Jake let out a long breath.  "So you're blowin' it anyway?"  

After Eric had stormed out of his office, Jake had given him thirty seconds, and then he'd followed his brother into the interview room he'd retreated into, hoping to reason with him in private.  But Eric hadn't budged, repeating that once they blew the bridge it was gone forever.  "A bridge is gonna be real useful if they murder us all like they did everyone in that hospital," Jake had countered, hitting the table with his fist to emphasize his point and express his frustration.

"We get every man in town out on that bridge if we have to," Eric had argued in return.  "With a show of force, they'll go elsewhere, like Gray said," he'd continued, standing taller, his shoulders thrown back, pointing his finger at Jake.  "Besides, this isn't a negotiation.  I'm deputy mayor, and Dad's not available.  This is my call.  We defend the bridge, we don't blow it up." 

"Throwing more men at this just means more men get killed," Jake had said through clenched teeth, recycling one of his earlier arguments.  He'd turned then, exiting the windowless room without another word, intending to go back out to the bridge and do what little he could to keep his dire prediction from coming true.

"That's right," Gray confirmed.  He studied Jake for a few seconds, taking in his conflicted expression.  "Look Jake," he sighed, "You've got loyalty to your brother and your family.  I get that.  You want to bow out, no one will blame you.  But that bridge is comin' down," he vowed. 

Jake nodded once, sharply, and then spinning around, started down the street.  "Where are you goin'?" Gray called after him before he'd managed three steps.

"Someone's got to tell those people who live out there to come over," he answered over his shoulder. 

A truck packed with armed men - reinforcements for the bridge - rumbled past as Jake shouldered his rifle and started jogging to where he'd left his car parked earlier that morning when he'd followed Stanley to town hall.  The truck turned the corner, affording Jake a clear view of the entrance to Gracie's Market and Heather, who was exiting the store.  Picking up his pace, he ran toward her, calling her name.

"Jake!" she declared, frowning as he skidded to a stop in front of her.  "What's going on?" Heather demanded, looking down the street after the truck which had now disappeared from view.  "Those men all had guns," she observed, her tone full of confusion, "And you're suddenly running around town with a rifle?" she half accused, facing him, her forehead wrinkling in consternation.

"There's a situation," he admitted, shaking his head.  "Out on the Tacoma Bridge.  Ravenwood - we think the same unit we ran into in Rouge River yesterday - showed up last night out at Stanley's, swiped some gas," Jake explained quickly.  "They tried to come into town this morning claiming they're under government orders to collect supplies."

She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening.  "Oh God.  What - how -"

"No, it's okay," he assured, expelling a nervous breath.  He hadn't told Heather anything about what he and Eric had seen in Rogue River, and now was certainly not the time.  "It's okay," he repeated, offering a quick smile, though to Heather it was obviously fake.  Jake inched closer, lowering his rifle and pulling her into an awkward one-armed hug.  "We've got a roadblock up on the bridge, okay?  And we've held them off so far.  We've just gotta keep up the show of force, and they'll go where the pickin's are easier," Jake argued, rubbing her back comfortingly before finally allowing his hand to rest just above her waist.  "Look - what are you doing out here?" he asked next, letting her go and taking a step back. 

"Uh," Heather began, pressing a finger into the corner of one eye.  "I - I was looking for some ginger ale," she admitted, chuckling softly at herself.  "Thought that might be a nice treat for your Dad.  He can't stay awake for very long, and it's making him grumpy.  Anyway," she continued, purposely not mentioning that she was also searching for ginger ale to help April combat her nausea.  "Gracie's prices were a little too high for me.  I was just gonna check and see if Mary might have any at Bailey's."

Jake shook his head.  "Uh-uh.  You need to go home," he told her.  "And stay indoors.  Mom and April too," he ordered.  "You all need to stay inside."

"Your Mom and I were gonna go out to the ranch -"

"No," Jake contradicted.  "We don't know where Ravenwood's got men right now.  I was out there three days ago, and the horses can make it another day.  They have to," he muttered, stone-faced.  "Baron too.  I put out a week's worth of food.  But you need to stay in town, and stay inside."

Heather frowned again, worry evident in her expression.  "Okay," she agreed, her tone doubtful.  "Jake, you're scaring me," she told him.

He reached for her hand, squeezing it.  "No reason to be scared," he promised, attempting another smile that didn't reach his eyes.  "We're just being cautious.  This'll all blow over real soon."

"Okay," she nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Okay," Jake agreed.  "Go to Bailey's," he instructed, "And then go home.  Eric or I'll come to let you all know when it's over, okay?" he asked, leaning close to brush a kiss across her forehead.  "Everything's gonna be fine."

"Yeah," Heather murmured almost inaudibly.  She pursed her lips, studying him for a few seconds.  "Where are you going?' she inquired softly, gripping his fingers.  "Back to the bridge?"

"Eventually," Jake allowed.  "But I'm gonna go warn the families on the farms out that way first," he explained.  "Get 'em to come into town for few days, just to be safe."  He pulled his hand from hers, moving it up to cup the side of her head.  "So I gotta go, okay, babe?"

Heather took a half step back, watching Jake closely.  His expression was guarded, and that wasn't something she was used to seeing from Jake, not when it was just the two of them.  She couldn't help but wonder exactly what was happening out on that bridge.  He'd said they were holding Ravenwood off, but if that was true, why did she need to stay inside?  And, if he didn't think it was safe for her to go to the ranch west of town where Ravenwood wasn't, then why should she think it was safe for him to go out to the farms east of town, where Ravenwood was?

Her stomach clenched then, and Heather laid one hand over the top of it, reaching for Jake's hand with the other.  "Okay," she agreed, sniffing.  "But be careful, please," she ordered.  "I love you, Jake," Heather told him, attempting a smile that never fully materialized.  She placed his hand over her belly, holding it there with her own.  "We love you," she emphasized, not above reminding him of what was at stake. 

"Didn't we just do this last night?" Jake grumbled, forcing a grin.  He knew he was making light of a serious situation, but he didn't want Heather to spend the day worrying about something she could do nothing about.
 
"We did," Heather agreed, taking the bait.  "So we better not have to do this again tomorrow," she complained.  "You better go," she sighed, finally releasing his hand.

"Yeah," he nodded, kissing her quickly.  "I love you," Jake added, pulling away.  "Everything's gonna be fine." 

Throwing her one last lopsided grin, Jake turned around and jogged back down the street to where the Roadrunner was parked.   Heather stood rooted to her spot and watched him go.  He reached the car, glancing back at her and returning her wave before climbing in and starting the engine.  Heather waved again when the Roadrunner passed her, and then, taking a deep breath, she crossed the street, headed toward Bailey's Tavern.

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

Wednesday, October 31, five years before the bombs

"How are you doing?" Jimmy Taylor inquired, looking sideways at his wife.  They were twenty minutes and a block and a half from his sister's house. 

The plan had been for Jimmy and his nieces to take Woody trick-or-treating - just around the block - but then Margaret had gotten it into her head to come with them, and Lauren and Elizabeth had taken off on their own, not wanting to wait for their aunt.  Linda had shaken her head at Margaret, accusing her of trying to induce labor, and Margaret hadn't bothered to deny it.  "Well, if you do, keep your legs together 'til morning," Linda had advised, rolling her eyes.  "Don't go cursin' my niece with a Halloween birthday."

"I promise to hold out until November," Margaret had laughed.  "Woody'll only make it a few blocks anyway, same as me," she'd sighed, pulling the Elmo hood up over her son's head and then tying a bow beneath his chin to keep it in place.  "We'll be back by eight."

"Well, the pumpkin pie should be cooled by then," Linda had assured, shooing them out the door.  "Be careful," she'd admonished, "And if you see Laurie and Lizzie, make sure they're not running wild."

They hadn't run into the girls as they'd made their way slowly down Green Street.  After every house Jimmy had asked Margaret how she was doing, and Margaret had retied Woody's hood, only to have him undo all her work before they were up the next walk.  Jimmy had just rung the Nolan's doorbell when Woody pulled the hood off for likely the fiftieth time, drawing a frustrated groan from his mother. 

Mrs. Nolan opened the door, beaming.  "Why Deputy Taylor, it's good to see you," she greeted.

Jimmy smiled at the elderly woman.  "Trick-or-treat," he said, jiggling Woody in his arms.  "C'mon, buddy," he cajoled. "Say 'trick-or-treat'."

"Tick-a-tee," Woody parroted, giggling.  He burrowed his face into his father's shoulder.

"That's about as good as he can do," Jimmy told Mrs. Nolan, cupping the back of the little boy's head.  "This is my wife Margaret," he introduced, glancing at her.  "And, this is Woody.  Margaret, this is Mrs. Nolan.  Used to have trouble with the house next door -"

"Those boys!" Mrs. Nolan interjected, shuddering.  "They were awful.  Never have been so happy to see neighbors go.  They were only renters, of course," she confided to Margaret.  "Your husband, always so helpful.  Must've had to come out nearly every weekend, two or three times.   But everything's fine now," she continued.  "Miss Lisinski is living there, and she's such a sweet girl.  Dating one of the Green twins, you know.  He's over practically every night.  Jake.  I know everyone says he's a bit wild," she plowed on, not bothering to stop even to take a breath.  "And, everything that happened with Jonah Prowse this summer was a shock, but I hafta say, he's helpful!  Carried groceries in for me just last night."

"We went to high school with Jake," Margaret answered, grinning.  "I never thought he was wild, exactly.  He's just Jake.  And, we got to know Heather some at church on Sunday," Margaret added.  "She seems very nice, and she's great with children.  Woody took to her immediately," she explained, touching his leg.  "Personally, I think they make a cute couple."

Mrs. Nolan nodded.  "I couldn't agree more," she sighed.  "Well, I think I owe someone some candy!" she declared, turning to reach into the candy bowl that was sitting on the hall tree just inside the door.  "Here you go, sweetheart," Mrs. Nolan crooned, depositing the sweets into the plastic pumpkin bucket Jimmy held out for Woody.  "Deputy Taylor, you have a lovely family.  And, another one about to join us any day," she smiled.  "What a blessing."

"Any day from tomorrow on," Margaret chuckled, folding her hands over her pregnant belly.

They thanked Mrs. Nolan for the candy, and she exclaimed over how adorable Woody was one last time.  Jimmy reached for Margaret's hand, holding onto it even after they had navigated their way down the porch steps.  He glanced over at the familiar house next door, remembering all the times in the past two years that he'd pounded on that door and told one or the other of the Blakemore brothers that it was time to break up the party.  He hadn't had a call out to Green Street in five months, and now he knew why.  Heather Lisinski just wasn't the type to ever aggravate her neighbors.  "Look," Jimmy muttered, squeezing Margaret's hand and cocking his head in the direction of Heather's driveway.  "Jake's car."

She looked sideways at him, grinning.  "I told you trick-or-treating was gonna be fun."

* * * * *

Heather was obviously in her element, passing candy out to the gaggle of children who'd arrived on her doorstep, and exclaiming over - actually recognizing - their costumes.  Jake stood a few inches behind her, watching her interact with the kids and grinning.  It turned out that Heather loved Halloween despite, she'd told him, all of the dire warnings regarding the pagan nature of the holiday she'd heard from the nuns who were her teachers growing up. "Happy Halloween!" she called after the departing children.

"Happy Halloween!" they yelled back, running down the steps.  "Thanks Miss Lisinski!"

She closed the door behind them, and turned, smiling, to face Jake.  "Having fun?" she inquired, laughing softly as she reached up to straighten his costume's collar.

Jake rolled his eyes and then leaned toward her, brushing her lips with his own.  "Been a long time since I dressed up for Halloween," he told her softly.  "Not since I was going trick-or-treating."

"Not even for a costume party?" she asked, taking a step back. 

"Nope," he answered.

"Hmm," Heather acknowledged, nodding thoughtfully.  "Well," she continued, perking up immediately, "It's about time then."  Her grin bordered on evil.  "And it seemed so appropriate," she giggled, turning away.

He grabbed for her hand, lacing their fingers together and following her back into the living room.  "It's pretty good payback, I'll give you that," Jake told Heather, winking at her when she looked over her shoulder at him. 

Heather laughed.  "Oh, believe me, payback is just starting," she assured him.  The doorbell rang before she could say anything else, and she let go of his hand.  "More kids," she announced unnecessarily.

"Trick-or-treat!" Jimmy and Margaret Taylor said in unison as soon as Heather opened the door.  "Okay Woody, now you say it.  'Trick-or-treat'," Jimmy encouraged.

Woody's face lit up when he spotted Heather, and he reached for her.  "Tick-a-tee," he declared as she caught him under the arms.

"Hello, Elmo!" Heather laughed, lifting him to her shoulder.  "Elmo, did you eat Woody?" she whispered, earning herself a grin and a giggle.  "Happy Halloween," she added, greeting Margaret and Jimmy.

"Happy Halloween," Margaret returned, taking a step back to look around Heather's front porch.  "You two did a great job," she observed, taking in the cobwebs that had been strung between the porch columns, the scarecrow sitting on the bench, a pot of mums beside it, and the jack-o-lanterns that lined either side of the steps.

Decorating had been the one thing that Heather had been willing to let Jake do the previous evening.  He had shown up at the school around four-thirty, testing the waters by approaching her cautiously.  Heather had allowed him to kiss her on the cheek, rolling her eyes at him.  She'd taken a definite step away from him and tugged at the collar of her red turtleneck, complaining that she was too hot.  Jake had mumbled an apology and Heather has rolled her eyes again.  "Right," she'd muttered, fighting a chuckle.

Still, after they'd gone for dinner and then headed back to her house, Heather had gotten skittish any time Jake had come within range of her.  He'd stuck it out for a few hours, carving pumpkins and helping her decorate the porch, before they had called it a night.  Heather had kissed him good night, and nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, when he'd brushed her hair off her face and asked if they were okay.  Thoroughly confused by Heather's mixed signals, Jake had driven home to the ranch berating himself for his mistake.

Tonight, though, Heather had thrown her arms around his neck, kissing him enthusiastically, when he'd arrived at her house with their dinner, take-out burritos from Jericho's one and only Mexican restaurant.  Grinning at him, she'd pulled him in the front door and led him to the table where he had found a plastic bag marked 'State Street Costume Shop' placed in front of what was now his usual seat.  "Your costume for tonight," she'd told him, taking the sack containing their dinner from his hand.  "I hafta admit, April helped me out.  Picked it up in Fielding today.  We both thought it was ... fitting," she had decided, a giggle escaping her lips.  "She said your Mom went too.  They had lunch."

Something akin to panic had crossed Jake's face, and Heather had started to laugh in earnest.  "I'm afraid to look," he'd admitted, frowning at her. 

"Not a bad instinct," Heather had granted, continuing to chuckle.  "But take a look anyway."

"So, Count Jake-ula, I take it?" Margaret smirked, looking Jake up and down.  "Interesting."

"Uh, yeah," Jake agreed, fingering the edge of the cape Heather had insisted he wear over his long sleeve t-shirt and jeans. 

When he'd finally peered into the bag from the costume shop, Jake had found inside a heavy, long black cape with a pointed collar and lined in a shiny red satin. There were also vampire teeth, a jar of white pancake make-up, and even hair gel, which Heather had explained was to slick his hair down for the full Bela Lugosi effect.  Surprised, and not really looking forward to wearing the white make-up included in the kit, Jake had asked if she was serious.  Heather had pulled down the collar of her black turtleneck then, giving Jake his first glimpse in two days of the now purple mark on her neck.  "I think the costume's funny," she'd told him.  "And, thinking about you wearing that costume, even makes this a little bit funny," Heather had explained, brushing a finger over the hickey.  Jake had agreed to put on the costume, including the make-up, as soon as he'd finished his burrito.

"I picked it out," Heather answered before Jake could say anything else.  She bounced Woody in her arms, making silly faces at the little boy.  "It just came to me the other night," she claimed, a strong note of sarcasm in her tone.  She glanced sideways at Jake for a second.   "And, I couldn't resist."

Jimmy snickered in response.  "Count Jake-ula," he repeated. "That's pretty good, Heather.  Funny."

"Thanks, I thought so," she acknowledged with a grin, capturing and then kissing one of Woody's pudgy little fists.  "Trick-or-treat?" Heather asked watching the little boy closely.

Woody nodded enthusiastically.  "Tick-a-tree," he mimicked.

Heather looked at Jake again.  "Would you get the other bowl?" she asked, taking a step back into the house so she could point him to the table where she collected junk mail and left her keys.  "Not the one with chocolate, the other one."  He brought her the bowl, and she picked out a bag of animal crackers and an orange sucker with a jack-o-lantern face, holding them out to Woody.  He ignored the cookies but reached for the sucker, fingering it carefully with both hands.  Jimmy held out Woody's plastic pumpkin and Heather dropped the animal crackers inside, still watching the little boy for his reaction.  Clutching the sucker's stick in his fist, he waved it at Heather, grinning at her sweetly.  "Oh, you like that, huh?" Heather asked, smiling at Woody.  "Well then, I think you need two," she told him, pulling a second sucker out of the bowl Jake still held.  She showed Woody the sucker and then dropped it into the pumpkin bucket.  Woody brightened, waving his sucker around, hitting it on the brim of the witch's hat that Heather wore.  

"I'll just take that," Margaret said, grabbing her son's arm and then prying the candy from his hand.  "Sorry," she grimaced, throwing the sucker into the bucket.

"No harm done," Heather assured, moving Woody to her hip so she could pull her hat back into place.

"Owie," Woody announced solemnly then.  He'd taken advantage of his new position on Heather's side to play with the pumpkin pin she was wearing on the collar of her sweater, and had managed to tug her turtleneck down, revealing the purple bruise on the side of her neck.  Heather felt him press his slightly clammy fingers against her hickey.  "Owie hurts," Woody said sadly.  "Kiss bedder," he decided, pressing his mouth to her injury.  He lifted his head, looking up at her, his eyes wide.  "All bedder?"

Heather, already blushing deeply, nodded at the little boy.  "Yes," she sighed, clearing her throat.  "Thank you, Woody," Heather continued, smiling at him, and then boosting him in her arms so she could rub his back.  "All better," she agreed.

"I am so sorry," Margaret blurted out then.  Heather glanced at each of the other three adults and found that her mortification seemed to be catching; even Jake looked somewhat embarrassed under his white make-up.  "Oh, Woody," Margaret groaned, shaking her head.  She reached for the boy, pulling him out of Heather's arms before handing him to Jimmy.  "I am so sorry," she repeated.

"It's okay," Heather answered, leaning back into the comforting hand Jake had laid against her back.  She didn't know what else to say, and was relieved to see a group of kids running up her walk, apparently intent on trick-or-treating all of Jericho before the end of the night. 

Jimmy managed to pull Margaret out of the children's way just in the nick of time.  Spotting his nieces in the knot of kids, Jimmy greeted them with a smile, passing along their mother's message about the pumpkin pie and her order that they were not to run wild.   Laurie and Lizzie both rolled their eyes and, after collecting their candy from Heather and Jake, promised to behave and to be home on time. Then, they ran off with the other kids, headed next door to trick-or-treat at the Nolans.

"Thank you for the goodies," Margaret told Heather and Jake, while Jimmy watched the girls run along with their friends.  He looked back over his shoulder, nodding in agreement and reaching for Margaret's hand.  "Good night," she smiled.

"Night Margaret, Jimmy," Jake echoed.  He laced his fingers through Heather's, tugging her into the house and then closed the door behind them.

Two more groups of trick-or-treaters came by in quick succession, after which there was a lull that Heather took advantage of by running to the bathroom.  The doorbell rang again, and Jake pulled himself up from the couch and crossed the living room to answer it. 

"Trick-or-treat!" Stanley Richmond exclaimed along with his sister and five of her classmates.  The girls were all dressed in pajamas with their hair up in pigtails, each carrying a teddy bear or other stuffed animal.  Jake recognized the teddy bear that Bonnie carried as the one he'd won for her at the county fair in July.  Stanley was in patched overalls and wearing a straw hat.  They all, Stanley included, held out pillowcases, their expressions expectant. 

Jake snorted and, shaking his head, began to dole candy to the girls, purposely skipping Stanley.  "Happy Halloween," he told them.

"What about me?" Stanley complained, shaking his pillowcase with both hands.

"Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?" Jake questioned, one eyebrow raised.

"You're just mad you didn't think of it first," Stanley returned with a grin.  He shook his pillowcase at Jake again.  "C'mon!  Trick-or-treat!  We still have to hit The Pines for the really good candy."

"I heard Skylar Stevens bragging that her parents were giving out whole candy bars this year," one of Bonnie's friends piped up. 

Stanley nodded.  "Exactly.  Thank you, Alyssa."

"I can't give you candy when you're not in costume," Jake informed him, a smirk curling his lips. 

"I am in costume!" Stanley protested with exaggerated indignation.  "I'm a farmer."

"You're a farmer every day of the year," Jake reminded, taking a step back so he could place the bowl of candy out of reach on the table.  "It can't be your Halloween costume."

The girls had stayed bunched around Stanley, and they looked up at him, craning their necks, waiting to hear his next response.  He was happy to oblige.  "I don't wear overalls normally," Stanley began to explain, emitting a put-upon sigh.  "Therefore, that makes this a farmer costume, see?  And, not my usual work clothing as a farmer.  Besides," he continued, "I'm pretty sure this is Heather's house.  Shouldn't she be deciding who gets candy, Count Jake-ula?" Stanley demanded, drawing giggles from Bonnie's friends and even Bonnie once the others managed to convey the gist of the joke to her.

"So, do all these girls' mothers' know they're spending the evening with you as their supervision?" Jake asked, sidestepping Stanley's question.

Stanley nodded.  "Of course.  I'm the one everyone wants to go trick-or treating with, right?" he inquired, looking down at his charges.  The girls giggled in unison again, shaking their heads in emphatic agreement.  "I'm both fun and responsible," Stanley continued.  He spotted Heather as soon as she came into sight, a knowing smile blooming on his face.  Stanley had seen her the day before at the school when he'd gone in for his monthly conference with the principal and Bonnie's teachers.  He'd noticed then that Heather had been wearing a turtleneck despite the fact that it was still rather warm, and now, today, she was still wearing one.  As far as Stanley Richmond knew, that could only mean one thing.  He took a step toward Jake, muttering softly, "You know, the vampire costume is starting to make sense.  What?  The toothbrush trick didn't work?"

Jake looked quickly back over his shoulder to see that Heather was only about eight feet away.  Now he took a step toward Stanley, bringing them toe to toe.  "Don't even," he growled in warning just as he felt Heather's hand on his back.

 "Course not," Stanley agreed genially.  He smiled at Heather and, moving around Jake, pulled her into his arms for a quick hug.  "Hey there, beautiful," he greeted, looking to Jake for his reaction, which didn't disappoint.  Behind him, all six girls snickered.  "Why're you hanging around with this pasty old reprobate?"

"'Pasty old reprobate'?" Heather chuckled. 

"'Pasty: having a pale, lifeless appearance.  Ashen, sallow.  And, reprobate: a depraved, unprincipled, or wicked person,'" Stanley defined for them, grinning.  "Also, 'shameless'," he added.

"What did you do, swallow a dictionary?" Jake grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at his best friend.

""Word-A-Day calendar," Stanley corrected cheerfully.  "Power vocabulary edition."

Heather's hand found its way to Jake's back again, and she rubbed gentle circles against his spine.  "Well, that's not exactly what I was going for when I picked Jake's costume," she informed Stanley with a soft smile, "But okay."  She turned her attention then to the group of girls, all of whom appeared to be hanging on every word the adults said.  "Aren't you all too cute," she told them.  "Did you get candy?"

"Yes, Miss Lisinski," Alyssa answered for them all.  "Just Stanley didn't get any."

Heather glanced at Jake who continued to glare at Stanley.  Stanley egged him on by grinning widely in return.  "You are a little old to be trick-or-treating, Stanley," she chided.  "But you did dress up, so I guess I can make an exception."  Patting Jake on the shoulder, she moved around him to retrieve the candy bowl. 

Stanley shot Jake a triumphant look.  "See?  I told you it's Heather's house," he crowed as she dropped a couple of pieces into his pillowcase.  "Thank you, Heather.  You better watch him," he added pointing at Jake.  "Put him in charge of handin' out candy, and the power goes straight to his head."

"Trust me, I'm keepin' my eye on him," Heather laughed.  She looked over her shoulder at Jake, giving him a smile that took away any sting he might have felt at her words, and even soothed some of his irritation with Stanley.  She reached back, her fingers brushing against his for just a second before she turned back to face Stanley's sixth grade girl posse.  "So how about another piece for each of you?" Heather asked, already doling candy out to the girls.  When she got to Bonnie she smiled and, making sure the girl could see her lips, declared, "Happy Halloween!"

Talking over one another, the girls answered, "Happy Halloween!" and "Thanks, Miss Lisinski!"

"Happy Halloween, man," Stanley muttered, offering his hand to Jake.  They both looked sideways at Heather.  "Don't know how you got so damn lucky."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, clearing his throat.  He grasped his friend's hand.  "Happy Halloween, Stanley."   Chuckling quietly, he shook his head.  "Aw, just go trick-or-treat The Pines."  

Grinning in acknowledgment, Stanley turned to face his sister and her friends.  "Okay," he declared, "To The Pines!"

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

"Hi, Mary," Heather greeted with a smile, walking up to the bar.  "Where is everybody?" 

The tavern was practically deserted, which was unusual these days.  There were always at least a few people in the place, working to lose themselves in whatever it was that Mary was serving.  But today, only Emily Sullivan was there, and Heather realized, looking closer at Emily's companion, so was Kenchy Dhuwalia.  He was dressed in a flannel shirt that she recognized as Johnston's, and the two of them were sitting together on the other side of the bar, splitting a bottle of something that looked expensive, and definitely wasn't home brew.  Their heads were together, and they were talking quietly about something.  Neither of them appeared to have noticed Heather's arrival.

"You hear about that thing out at Tacoma Bridge?" Mary asked, running a dishcloth over the top of the bar.

"Yeah, I just ran into Jake outside," Heather answered, looking back over her shoulder at the bar's entrance.  "He told me about the bridge.  He wants me to go home, actually, but I'm on a mission this morning."

"Jake Green, overprotective husband and expectant father.  Who woulda thunk it," Mary teased quietly, leaning over the bar and grinning at Heather.  "As for where everyone went," she sighed, taking a step back, "Tacoma Bridge.  Five minutes after I opened this morning, Bill showed up, recruiting volunteers for guard duty.  Mister Dark and Intriguing over there," Mary explained with a nod in Dhuwalia's direction, "Is the only one he didn't take.  He was the first through the door this morning," she confided, "Says he's a doctor, and that he doesn't know how to use a gun, but that he does have 'lots of experience but very little success patching people up after Ravenwood is done with them'," Mary quoted.  "Whatever that all means.  I felt bad for him," she admitted.  "Sounds like he's had a rough couple of weeks."

"A rough time, for sure," Heather agreed, offering a confused frown.  "Ravenwood left him behind when they evacuated the hospital in Rogue River.  That's how he - Kenchy - got here.  He was the only one at the hospital when Jake and Eric went there to get medicine for Johnston," she explained, catching Mary's questioning look.  "But he said he was with the Red Cross, not Ravenwood."  Heather shook her head.  "I don't know.  What I do know is Jake says Ravenwood wants supplies from the town, like we have any to spare," she complained.  "And Kenchy helped save Johnston's life, so he's earned his keep with us, as far as the Greens are concerned."

"So, the mayor's really okay?" Mary asked.  Heather nodded, smiling, and Mary let out a relieved sigh.  "That's good news, 'specially when it sounds so bad out there.  Like I said, I think he's had a rough time," she repeated, looking over her shoulder at Emily and Dhuwalia, who took the opportunity to toast her.  "And, he's distracting Emily, which is a good thing."  Mary turned back to face Heather, her expression suddenly serious.  "Today's -"

"I know," Heather interrupted quietly.  She offered a tight, sympathetic smile.  "Emily's wedding.  I got the invitation, right before everything - everything happened.  I didn't RSVP," Heather admitted, shrugging.  "I wasn't gonna go if Jake wasn't home, and then only if he wanted to.  I know she's your friend, and I do feel bad for her, but -"

"It's okay," Mary assured.  "We're friends, sure, but she is your husband's ex-girlfriend," she reminded.  "I'm pretty sure it's socially acceptable to just send a gift."

"Which I was going to do," Heather declared, resting her folded arms on the bar.

"So, what can I do you for?" Mary asked.  "I hope you're not lookin' for a drink," she teased, "'Cause I'm not servin' you, even if you are legal.  Especially not the rotgut I've got on tap these days." 

Heather rolled her eyes.  It was an old joke between the two of them.  Mary, it turned out, was only six weeks older than Heather, and she'd managed to card Heather on her first three visits to the bar including, most embarrassingly, the first time Jake had brought her into Bailey's.  "I'm not looking for alcohol, or even coffee," Heather chuckled. 

"That's right," Mary nodded, offering a knowing smile, "You're a coffee fiend.  So," she continued, "No alcohol - and I'm using the term liberally - and no coffee.  Problem is, that's pretty much all I have.  Well," Mary corrected with a chuckle, "I may have some pretzel bits in pretzel dust in the back."

"Any chance you have some ginger ale hidden away?" Heather asked, her expression hopeful.  "That's my mission, to find some ginger ale," she explained.  "I went to Gracie's, but she basically wanted my first born for a two liter, and I'm kinda attached to him or her," she grinned, resting her hand on her abdomen.  "Literally!"

Mary laughed at that.  "Well, I'm not looking to adopt," she assured, taking a step back from the bar.  She held up her hands, making an 'X' with her index fingers.  "No babies for me, least not yet.  But you are in luck," Mary continued, "Because I do have ginger ale.  One of my waitresses - Corinne - lived on ginger ale the first three, four months she was pregnant.  Then she got over her morning sickness and couldn't stand the stuff anymore.  I've got a box of cans in the back that's probably missing one can.  It's yours."  Mary gave Heather a sympathetic look.  "You're still having morning sickness?"

"It's not for me," Heather corrected.  "Johnston's a little cranky today.  Ginger ale makes me feel better when I'm sick, and I thought I'd surprise him," she explained.  "But I don't need your whole box.  I can't trade for your whole box."

"Hey, take it," Mary said, waving off Heather's argument.  "On the house," she assured.  "Unless you can get the mayor to agree that it counts as paying up my property taxes for the year."

"I'll see what I can do," Heather giggled. 

"I'll be right back," Mary promised, already turning away.  She crossed behind the bar to check on Emily and Dhuwalia, stifling a chuckle as she asked, "How're you two doin'?"

Emily thunked her shot glass down on the counter somehow managing to splash the last centimeter of liquid onto the back of Dhuwalia's hand.  He gave her a funny look, and then licked it off his skin.  Emily giggled at that, stretching her hands over her head and arching her back.  "Not bad at all," she tittered.

Mary shook her head, and picking up their bottle, poured them both another shot.  "Enjoy," she told them, laughing softly and shaking her head.  "Though I don't think you'll be thanking in the morning," she predicted.

"Then I will thank you now," Dhuwalia decided, raising his glass to Mary for the umpteenth time.

"You're welcome," Mary answered dryly before heading to the back of the bar to look for ginger ale.

Heather stood at the corner of the bar, her hands folded and resting on the counter, and observed the odd pair across the room.  Dhuwalia caught her eye.  "Missus Jake!" he called out.

She walked slowly around the bar, smiling, but managing not to laugh outright.  "Kenchy," she greeted, "We'd been wondering where you went."

"I went for a walk," he explained.  "And found this lovely establishment and companion."  Dhuwalia glanced at Emily.  "Do you know Missus Jake?" he asked her.

"Heather," Emily corrected.  "Her name's Heather."

"Right," Dhuwalia agreed, nodding sagely.  "Heather.  You said that last night."

"Yes," Heather acknowledged solemnly.

Dhuwalia turned forty-five degrees on his stool, bumping his knee against Emily's.  "Sorry," he apologized, patting her absently on the leg.  He held up the bottle - scotch, Heather realized, reading the label - and offered it to Heather.  "Would you like to join us in a drink?" he invited.

"She can't, she's pregnant," Emily snapped.  She pried the bottle out of Dhuwalia's hands and poured herself another shot, almost dropping the bottle when she replaced it on the bar.  "She's having Jake's baby," she muttered, throwing back her drink and then wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

"She's Missus Jake," Dhuwalia returned as if that cleared up the matter. 

Emily looked over her shoulder at Heather, the movement making her a little shaky on her stool, forcing her to grab the counter's edge.  Her gaze drifted to Dhuwalia.  "I was going to have Jake's baby once, but it turned out I was just late.  And, Jake asked me to marry him first," Emily continued, her voice growing louder.  "Before he asked her," she clarified, finally risking a glance in Heather's direction.  "Bet you didn't know that."

Any kind or friendly feeling toward Emily that the past week had engendered in Heather was gone in an instant.  She balled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the skin of her palms, silently telling herself that Emily was drunk, and that if there was any justice in the world, she would not only have the mother of all headaches in the morning, but she would also remember what she'd said and be embarrassed by it.  Of course, Heather reminded herself, she wasn't entirely sure she'd ever known Emily to be embarrassed about anything she'd done or said.  Other people had on occasion caused Emily embarrassment, but that wasn't the same thing.

Heather cleared her throat and met Emily's triumphant gaze.  "Actually I did know that," she informed the other woman.  "Jake and I talk.  He told me all of that years ago."  Dhuwalia, she noticed, had poured himself another shot, and was looking back and forth between them as if he were observing a tennis match. 

Shaking her head at him, Heather returned her attention to Emily.  "Am I supposed to be jealous?" she questioned tiredly.  "Of something that happened a decade before I met Jake?  Of something that happened when I was all of eleven years old?" Heather demanded.  "He asked you to marry him first.  Yes, you win that one.  But he asked me to marry him last, and - guess what - he actually married me."

"Found it!" Mary announced loudly and brightly.  She didn't bother going back behind the bar, instead moving almost in between Heather and Emily.  "Eleven cans of Canada Dry ginger ale," she informed Heather, holding the box out to her.

"Thank you," Heather murmured, accepting the case of soda. 

Emily turned again on her stool, facing away from Heather.  She poured herself another shot, and then offered the bottle to Dhuwalia, who was happy to accept another drink.

Heather hefted the box of soda cans, cradling it almost like a baby on her left arm.  "I'm gonna go now," she informed Mary quietly, taking two steps toward the door before she stopped in her tracks, spinning around.  She faced Emily's back.  "You know, I felt bad for you, sorry," Heather said.  "You were supposed to get married today, and you can't.  You have no idea if Roger's dead or alive.  In your place I'd be a basket case.  I'd probably be drunk too.  Or at least be thinkin' about getting drunk." Heather paused, sighing, and then worrying her lip as she worked out what she wanted to say next.  "But, you know what, Emily?  You make it very hard for me to feel anything for you besides complete and utter pity."

"Wait up," Mary called after Heather, starting after her.  Looking back over her shoulder, she shot an annoyed glare at Emily.  "I'm sorry about that - about her," she apologized, finally catching up with Heather.   "It's just a bad day all around.  She's not -"

"She's not herself?" Heather suggested sarcastically.  "She's drunk, I'll give you that.  Whatever filter she normally has is completely gone.  But really," she sighed, "That seemed all very Emily to me.  I know she's having the worst day of her life on a day that's supposed to be one of the best," Heather continued, shaking her head at Mary when she tried to interrupt.  "But, she should be worrying about - thinking about - Roger.  Not Jake." 

"Emily knows that," Mary assured quietly.  "Trust me.  It's just a really bad day."

Tight-lipped, Heather threw Mary a skeptical look.  "You say so," she muttered.  "I promised Jake I'd go home.  Everyone's supposed to stay inside," she added, "And Gail and April don't know that, so I really need to go."  Heather took a deep breath, and for a moment Mary expected her to launch into another speech, but she bit it back.  "Thanks for the ginger ale," she sighed.  "And, good luck." 

Behind them, Emily began to laugh loudly and slightly maniacally.  Heather and Mary both glanced back. Emily was holding onto Dhuwalia's arm, resting her head on his shoulder.  He was pouring the next round.   Heather, rolling her eyes, met Mary's gaze.  "I think you're gonna need it."

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

Wednesday, October 31, five years before the bombs

Giggling uncontrollably, Heather beat Jake to the front door by a toe's length.  For the preceding half hour they had taken turns answering the door and passing out candy, but for some reason, this time when the doorbell rang and it was Jake's turn, she'd jumped to her feet anyway, jogging ahead of him.  It had taken Jake a second to catch on, and although his strides were longer there just wasn't time to beat her in the race to the front door. 

"Ha!" he declared trying - unsuccessfully - to get between her and the doorknob.

"Uh-uh, I win," Heather argued, blocking him with her arm.  She threw him a grin and, still laughing, yanked the door open.  Heather stepped back into the solid wall that was Jake then, her smile growing as he took full advantage of the situation and wrapped both arms around her waist.

"Trick-or-treat," a single little voice sing-songed out.  A moment later, the child appended a surprised, "Hi, Miss Lisinski," to his greeting.

Still smiling, Heather glanced down at the little boy and then up at adult - his mother - who accompanied him.  "Happy Halloween, Ryan," she said, letting out a deep breath.  "And, Happy Halloween, Mrs. Harper."

"Miss Lisinski," the PTA president returned, offering a tight-lipped smile.  "And, Jake Green," she added flatly.  "How nice to see you.  Almost didn't recognize you in your costume," she claimed, allowing an awkward chuckle.

"I'll just hafta put a little more effort into it next year then," Jake returned with a shrug.  "Karen," he added, offering her a curt nod, his tone painfully neutral.  He looked down at Heather, tightening his hold on her even as she pulled against it.  "I ever tell you that Karen used to babysit Eric and me?"

"Yes," Mrs. Harper interjected before Heather could respond.  "Yes, that's true," she continued.  "Years ago, of course."  She brought her hand down on her son's shoulder then, forcing him to stop wiggling and stand still. 

"Twenty years ago," Jake acknowledged.

Mrs. Harper's smile grew tighter, and she glanced quickly around the porch and then into the house through the front door.  "So, this is your home?" she asked rhetorically.  "Well, it's quite cozy," she announced with forced cheerfulness. 

"Extremely," Jake confirmed, finally dropping his arm from around Heather's waist.  He reached for her hand instead, meeting her eye for a split second and flashing her an encouraging smile.  "She's done a great job with the place," he told Mrs. Harper as he twined his fingers with Heather's.

"Thank you," Heather said quickly, though it wasn't at all obvious who she was thanking - or for what.  "So, Ryan," she said, grinning at her student, "I really like your fireman costume.  Smart thinkin' to wear your galoshes."

Ryan let out a big sigh.  "Thanks," he acknowledged, stabbing at the porch with the toe of his left rain boot.  "I wanted to be Spiderman, but Mama said a fireman's more patriotic."   

Mrs. Harper's expression turned annoyed at her son's confession.  Normally, Heather would have commiserated with any child who'd told her what Ryan just had, but she was forced to admit to herself that his mother intimidated her, and she couldn't think of anything that wasn't likely to bring the PTA president's ire down upon her.  Jake, however, had no such compunction, and he told Ryan most of what Heather wanted to say.

"Being patriotic's a good thing," he assured the third grader.  "And, you can always go as Spiderman next year."

"Absolutely," Heather agreed.  She offered Ryan another quick smile, and then stepped around Jake, her hand brushing his arm, to retrieve the candy bowl.

"We'll see," Mrs. Harper said, though if her tone was anything to go by, she'd already considered and dismissed the possibility.  "So," she continued, studying Jake, and then Heather once she'd returned to his side, with a rather bug-eyed stare, "I hadn't realized you two were seeing one another?"  It was a question, the way she'd said it, but again, Mrs. Harper didn't wait for an answer.  "I hadn't realized you two even knew each other," she laughed in a way that clearly telegraphed her consternation with the situation.

"Jake's grandfather is doing a series of talks on the history of Jericho to our class," Heather reminded, dropping a handful of candy into Ryan's trick-or-treat bag.  Mrs. Harper was well aware of the presentations, Heather knew; she'd sent home a letter to all of her students' parents explaining the objectives of the 'Living History' unit as she'd called it, and then after the first class, Mrs. McVeigh has insisted that Heather provide a brief overview of the project to the PTA.  "There's one tomorrow, actually," she reminded.  "Gramps is going to talk about some of the important things that happened in Jericho, in Kansas, and in the country while he was mayor, and since Jake's Dad has been mayor."

Heather, digging through the bowl to find a jack-o-lantern sucker for Ryan, didn't see how Mrs. Harper's eyes bulged even more at her rather familiar reference to EJ Green, but Jake did.  He caught her gaze and held it, his own expression appraising as well as the slightest bit smug.  He knew that Heather hadn't meant anything more than to provide information when she'd mentioned his father and grandfather, but he wasn't above ensuring that Karen 'Witchmore' Harper, former evil babysitter of his childhood and current thorn in Heather's side, was well aware of Heather's close association with the Greens.  Over his lifetime, being the son of the mayor had tended to be more a hassle than a boon, but now, dealing with a woman for whom political power was everything, Jake was quite willing to remind her of the difference between the office of mayor and that of PTA president.  "We met because of Gramps," Jake shrugged, still observing Mrs. Harper.  "That's the short version of the story, anyway."

Flustered, Mrs. Harper broke eye contact, looking down at her son, who was now looking through the candy bowl, trying to decide on one last piece of candy at Heather's insistence.  "Is this really appropriate, Miss Lisinski?" she demanded then, grabbing Ryan by the shoulder and pulling him a step back.  "I think you of all people - a teacher - would know better than to load a child up with processed sugar."

Mortified at first, Heather didn't look up immediately.  Finally, taking a deep breath, she raised her head, meeting the other woman's eye.  "It's Halloween, Mrs. Harper," she returned evenly, "And, while I wouldn't - and I didn't - give my students candy at school, I have to think, on Halloween night, it's up to their parents to decide how much candy they want them to have."  Jake pressed a supportive hand to her back then, and she glanced away for a second, throwing him a grateful smile.  Turning her head so she faced Mrs. Harper again, Heather completed, "Tonight, I'm just another person who enjoys participating in the ritual."

Before either woman could say anything else, Jake mumbled, "Speak of the devil." He stared past Mrs. Harper and at the truck which had just pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the house.  "Looks like we're about to get a mayoral house call," he informed them. 

They all watched as Dale Turner exited the cab from the passenger's side door and Johnston Green from the driver's side, coming around to join Dale on the sidewalk.  Dale, like most of the older kids, carried a pillowcase and appeared to have taken in a good haul so far.  Johnston held a shoebox in one hand, laying the other on Dale's shoulder, steering him forward.  "Happy Halloween!" Johnston greeted as his foot hit the bottom porch step. 

"Dad," Jake replied with a quick wave.  "What's up?"

"Trick-or-treat," Dale announced, giving Mrs. Harper a wide berth as he moved around her to stand next to her son.  "Hi Ryan," he muttered.

"Hi Dale," the little boy mumbled in return.

"Karen, Heather," Johnston nodded at each of them, his gaze coming to rest momentarily on Jake before he glanced at Dale and then back again at Jake.  "You two plan this?" he asked, a smirk twitching at his lips.  Dale, it turned out, was wearing a somewhat less elaborate vampire costume than Jake, though Dale had worn dark clothing under his cape and had embellished his make-up by adding fake blood dripping from both corners of his mouth. 

"Hey," Jake shrugged, "Great minds think alike, right Dale?"  He grinned at the boy, and then glanced at his father, holding up a hand to forestall the comeback he could read in Johnston's eyes.  "And before you say anything, Dad," Jake drawled, "You should know that the 'great mind' that picked my costume is Heather."

"Well in that case," Johnston chuckled, winking at her, "Good work, darlin'."

"Thanks," Heather grinned, dropping a handful of candy into Dale's pillowcase.  You're doing pretty well," she told him, peering inside.  "You been up to The Pines?"

"Nah," Dale answered, shaking his head.  "I don't go to The Pines."

"Spotted Dale over near April's and Eric's," Johnston explained.  "Makin' a delivery, same as here."  He handed the shoebox to Jake then, and Heather got her first look at the contents.  There were three large caramel apples, rolled in chopped pecans and drizzled in chocolate, in the wax paper-lined box.  Heather's mouth began to water on sight. 

"Gail's been up to her usual for Halloween," Johnston continued.  "The third's for your grandfather, so don't get any ideas, Count Jake-ula," he added, drawing snickers from both Dale and Heather, though Heather tempered her reaction by rubbing Jake's arm gently with her free hand.  "Your Mom called Grandpa," Johnston warned, clearing his throat, "So he already knows that you're bringin' his home."

"Aw, man," Jake smiled widely, "I haven't had one of these in years.  Getting one of Mom's caramel apples for Halloween alone makes movin' back to Jericho worth it," he declared.  He glanced sideways at Heather then, their gazes locking for a moment.  "Course, that's just one reason," Jake murmured, "I've got others."

"Well, I think it's time for us to be going," Mrs. Harper announced then.  "Come along, Ryan," she demanded, reaching for her son's hand.  "Say thank you to Miss Lisinski."

"Thank you, Miss Lisinski," Ryan parroted quietly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ryan," Heather assured, watching as Mrs. Harper pulled him away, hurrying him down the steps and then down the walk.  They reached the sidewalk and turned right, disappearing into the night.  Heather groaned, shaking her head.  "She absolutely hates me."

"She hates me too," Dale commiserated.  "I don't think she really likes anybody."

Johnston snorted, shaking his head.  "Interesting woman, that's for sure.  And, running for the school board now," he reminded, rolling his eyes.

"Just what I need," Heather groaned.  "For Karen Harper to have even more power over my life."  She glanced at Dale, frowning softly.  "I shouldn't have said that in front of you," she admitted, her nose wrinkling, "I'm sorry."

The eleven year old looked confused, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to do or say.  Finally, though, he offered Heather a shy smile, asking, "Shouldn't have said what?"

Jake guessed that it was a line Dale had adapted from a TV show or movie, and he nodded his approval, wrapping his free arm around Heather's shoulders.  "I didn't hear anything either," he added, chuckling softly.  "Besides, Karen 'Witchmore' Harper is certifiably evil, and I don't care that you heard that," he told Dale, squeezing Heather's arm when he felt her tense.  "But, I sure feel for her kid and her husband.  She's evil," Jake repeated.  "One time, when I was a kid, she showed up to babysit, and literally, as soon as your car was out of the driveway," he explained to his father, "She made Eric and me go stand in the corner - different rooms - until bedtime.  She seemed to think we needed to be punished for something we'd done the last time she'd babysat us."

"You're serious?" Heather questioned, leaning her head back on his arm so she could look up at him.  "What did you do?  Not that there's anything you could've done to deserve hours in the corner!" she amended quickly.

"What I remember is that I teased her about a note she'd written to some boy she liked.  She thought I took it out of her purse, but it must have fallen out, 'cause I know I found it laying on the floor," Jake answered.  "We were little kids, we thought the note was funny.  We made kissy noises at her," he shrugged.  "So she yelled at us and made us sit at the table while she did her homework.  Wouldn't let us watch Dukes of Hazzard," Jake recalled, chuckling humorlessly.  "She did give us our snack though, and Eric knocked his cherry kool-aid over - complete accident - and ended up soaking her math homework.  I shoulda knocked mine over then, too," he snorted, shaking his head.  "She made us go to bed right after that, and a week later she was still mad about it."

"That really happened?" Johnston demanded roughly, obviously stunned by his son's story.

"Yeah," Jake returned, his voice clipped.  Reflexively, he started to clench his teeth only to be thwarted by the vampire fangs he wore.  "If you don't believe me, ask Eric," he grumbled.

"I don't need to ask Eric," Johnston practically snapped, his expression turning angry.  "I believe you, Jake," he insisted, "I just don't understand why you boys didn't tell us.  She babysat practically every week for two, three years.  We paid her to look after you." 

Surprised at his father's response, Jake could only nod and offer a sour grin. "Yeah, five bucks an hour."

Heather pulled out of his embrace then, and Jake immediately missed her warmth against his side.  She tried to force a reassuring smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.  Giving up, she took the shoebox containing the caramel apples from him, and juggling that along with the candy bowl she'd been holding, Heather stepped around Jake and back into the house to deposit both items on the table just inside the door, her actions distracting the three males for the moment.

"I don't know why we didn't tell you, Dad," Jake shrugged, returning his attention to Johnston.  Heather moved back to his side, knitting their fingers together, and he let out a deep breath, squeezing her hand.  "We were seven or eight.  I guess like most kids, we figured you'd believe the babysitter over us, and we really didn't want to get into any more trouble."

In truth, Jake's memory of that night was still vivid.  He could recall the relief he'd felt when she'd finally told him and Eric that it was time for bed.  It had been an hour before their usual Saturday bedtime, but neither had protested, both too tired and too stiff from having been forced to stand up and remain perfectly still for so long.  Jake and Eric had still shared a room back then - bunk beds - and she'd herded them upstairs, giving them two minutes to change into pajamas and brush their teeth.  After she'd told them she didn't want to hear a peep from them and turned out the lights, Jake had lain in the top bunk too exhausted and peeved to sleep.  Below him, he'd heard Eric sniffling.   After he'd waited what had seemed like an eternity - but as an adult he realized was likely no more than ten minutes - he'd climbed down from his own bed, eschewing the squeaky ladder out of fear of alerting her to his disobedient movements.  Crawling in with Eric, Jake had patted his brother on the shoulder, whispering a reminder that they needed to be quiet, that they didn't want Karen 'Witchmore' to come back.

"I hate her," Eric had croaked weakly, elbowing Jake in the nose as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  "We should tell Mom to not call her to babysit anymore."

"We can't," Jake had argued quietly, swallowing his own urge to cry.  "Mom would want to know what we did, and Karen would tell her, and make it sound really, really bad.  We'll get in trouble again."  Eric, biting his lip, had nodded, conceding the point, and Jake had given his brother an awkward hug.  It'll be okay," he'd promised, feeling angry at his own sense of powerlessness. 

He remembered too, how a few hours later, their parents had come in to check on them.  Gail and Johnston, completely unaware of the drama that had unfolded under their roof in the preceding hours, had laughed softly at the sight of their two boys snuggled together like puppies.  His mother, stooping over him, had brushed the sweaty curls out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  Then, his father had extracted him from Eric's bed, hugging Jake to his chest for a moment before lifting him back into the upper bunk.  Only half awake, Jake had been aware of his parents' actions and gentle words, both towards Eric and himself, and towards one another.  He hadn't responded to either of them, but he recalled now how his sense of safety had returned, settling over him like the blanket his father had tucked up to his chin.

Jake sighed, shaking his head, forcing his thoughts back to the present.  "Guess I better be sure to vote for school board next week," he muttered.  "Hopefully spare the kids of Jericho that much, at least."  He looked down at Heather, adding, "And the teachers."

Tightening her grip on his hand, Heather shuddered softly.  "Yeah," she agreed, clearing her throat.  "No joke."

"Who else is running?" Jake inquired, "Not that I s'pose it matters."

"Miranda Stevens," Johnston answered, his expression still conflicted as his mind worked to absorb Jake's revelation.  "Tim Manning, and Lisa Oliver.  For two spots. "

"At least Mrs. Stevens isn't mean," Dale said, his eyes wide.  Belatedly, the three adults remembered his presence.

"Okay," Johnston sighed, eyeing Dale for a moment, "That's enough of this, for now."  He reached into his coat, flashing a smile at the boy.  "Dale and I would like to go have our caramel apples," he told Jake and Heather.  "But your mother insisted she needs a picture of your Halloween costume," he groused, extracting a camera from his inside pocket.  "Don't ask me why.  Pose," he ordered.

"You gotta be kidding," Jake complained, his expression incredulous beneath his white make-up, which was starting to flake.

Johnston threw his son an exasperated grin.  "Over the years, I've learned to pick my battles.  This isn't one of 'em.  Dale, step back, please," he requested.  "You two," he directed Jake and Heather, "Squeeze together."  Johnston waited while Dale and Heather did as he asked, Jake complying grudgingly, and only after Heather smiled at him sweetly.    "Now say 'cheese'," he demanded as soon as Jake had a halfway decent expression on his face.

"Happy Halloween," Heather improvised, threading her arm through Jake's and smiling for the camera.  Johnston snapped the picture, and then a second one when Jake turned his head and kissed Heather on the cheek, knocking her witch's hat off her head.

Giggling, Heather caught her hat before it hit the ground.  "Dale, I think we need to take your picture with Jake," she said, stepping sideways and fitting her hat back in place.  "I bet Mrs. Green would love a picture of the two vampires," she teased, glancing back over her shoulder at Jake.

Johnston grinned approvingly.  "Good idea, Heather."

"Stay right there," she told Jake, stepping behind Dale and then resting both hands on his shoulders.  "So, will you take your picture with Jake for me and Mrs. Green?" Heather asked, bending over so that her head was next to his. 

Dale nodded and then moved in front of Jake, who placed his hands on Dale's shoulders.  The two of them consulted quietly for a few seconds and then faced the camera, both making their scariest vampire faces, drawing a snort from Johnston and amused laughter from Heather.  Then, Johnston reminded Dale of the caramel apples awaiting them back at the Green house and they departed, just as a group of seven high school boys, uniformly dressed in jeans, black t-shirts and monster masks filed onto the porch. 

Only one of the teenagers even bothered to say 'trick-or-treat'.  Heather doled out candy, though Jake noticed that while she gave the younger kids a handful each, she only gave these boys one piece each.  Jake stood back, watching them closely.  He'd been one of those kids ten years before, but he found that he didn't have much sympathy for them, and he was certainly glad to have that part of his life behind him.  Once they'd all been given candy they turned to leave.  Two more found their manners and thanked Heather as they marched past her.

"It's eight-forty-five," Heather announced once the teenagers were out of earshot.  "Am I too awful of a person if I turn out the porch light, and call it a night?"

"Nah," Jake assured.  "This time of night, all you're gonna get is more like them.  Actually, you'd probably get them again," he explained over his shoulder as he crossed the porch to blow out the candles in the jack-o-lanterns.  "They'll double-back.  That's what I did when I was their age.  There you go," he declared, standing, once the last candle was out.  He smiled at Heather, who stood in the open door, holding her hand out to him.  "So," Jake asked, lacing their fingers together, "All right if I lose the make-up and the teeth?"

Pulling him into the house, Heather granted his request with a nod and a sigh.  "I think you've been punished enough," she told him, flicking off the porch light switch and throwing the deadbolt with her free hand.  "And if I just sounded anything like Karen Harper, kill me now."

Jake stuffed the vampire fangs he'd pried out of his mouth into his pocket and turned around, trapping Heather against the door.  Her witch's hat fell off again, but this time she didn't even look at it, her gaze completely concentrated on Jake.  "You and Karen 'Witchmore' Harper are not even in the same universe," he told her, bringing his mouth down atop of hers. 

Their kiss only lasted a few seconds, just until Heather, wrapping her arms around Jake's neck, tried to run her fingers through his heavily shellacked hair, failing miserably.  She pulled away from him laughing.  "I'm sorry," she gasped, "I forgot."  She reached up pressing her finger against the stiff hair at his temple.  "You may need to take a shower," Heather decided, fighting another round of giggles.

"If I can just this crap off my face, I'll be happy," Jake informed her, rubbing his nose and then showing her the dried, white powder he'd managed to scrape off. 

"That we can do," she agreed.  Heather had put the heavy white make-up on Jake, and she'd realized while she was applying it that it was going to be a pain coming off.  "I'm prepared for that," she assured him, reaching for both his hands.  They stood there for a long moment, watching each other and grinning.  "Happy Halloween, Jake," Heather sighed happily.

"Happy Halloween, Heather."

"C'mon," she said then, tugging on his hand.  "Let's get that stuff off your face before you break out in hives."

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Heather dropped onto the couch, and propping her feet on the coffee table, leaned back.  Her mother-in-law's back was to her as she dusted the mantle with an energy born of anger and worry.  Sighing softly, Heather let go of the book she'd brought downstairs with her, realizing there was little chance she'd actually open it.  She was too tired, and while reading might help distract her racing mind, she found she couldn't bring herself to even try.

She'd arrived home two hours before to find the house in a quiet uproar.  April and Gail, both of them upset to the point of near hysteria, had still remembered their patient, and had somehow avoided disturbing Johnston, who slept on unaware of the emotional tornado that had ripped through his family.  It had taken Heather some time to piece together what had happened.  Gail had been simply furious, and her wrath all seemed, uncharacteristically, to be directed at Eric, though she'd been too worked up at first to articulate what had happened.  April had seemed to swing between seething anger and weepy helplessness, hitting most of the worst emotional states in between.  Heather had finally resorted to wrapping her arms around her sister-in-law and, murmuring comforting words, she'd reminded April that getting herself worked up into such a state wasn't good for her or her baby.

April had started to cry again in earnest, clutching Heather's hand as she'd hiccupped out, "You can't - you can't tell - tell Eric." 

Heather had looked at Gail for an explanation, but her mother-in-law had just shaken her head and, stepping close to April, had taken her hand out of Heather's, promising, "We won't tell him."  She'd led April to the dining room then, pushing her gently into a seat at the table.  "You'll tell him when you're ready, and he doesn't need to know until then."

"Don't tell Eric?" Heather had questioned, her forehead wrinkling with confusion.  "You didn't tell Eric about the baby?" she had guessed, frowning as she looked between Gail and April.  "What's going on?" she'd demanded.

Gail had lain a calming on April's shoulder, standing behind her, facing Heather over the top of her head.  "Eric told April that he's in love with Mary Bailey," she'd admitted softly before pressing her lips together in a grim line. 

"What?" Heather had croaked out, all the color draining from her face.  She'd glanced back at the entry where she'd left the case of ginger ale when she'd come home a few minutes earlier.  Her stomach roiled.  "What?" she had repeated, gaping at them both.

"I don't want him to know about the baby," April had declared, sniffling.  She'd straightened in her chair throwing her shoulders back; the set of her jaw had told them she was serious.  "If - If he wants to be with Mary - Mary Bailey, then that's fine.  But he doesn't get to know about the baby. My baby."  April had taken a deep breath then, pressing her hands against the table, forcing herself up out of her seat.  "I'm going to go clean up," she'd announced, "And then I'm going to work."

Both Heather and Gail had protested that she shouldn't and couldn't, but April had been adamant, rushing upstairs before either of them could stop her.  Gail, moving back into the living room to pace, had spotted the ginger ale near the front door.  Heather had covered her face with both hands and quietly confessed where she'd gotten it; her mother-in-law's expression couldn't have been more disgusted if Mary Bailey had delivered the case of soda herself - and then proceeded to seduce Eric, in the living room, in front of the entire family.

Gail had insisted then - and Heather had agreed - that the ginger ale would have to be returned to Bailey's, though neither of them had any interest in running that particular errand.  Heather had explained what was happening in town with Ravenwood and out on the Tacoma Bridge, and how Jake wanted them to stick close to home and to stay inside.  That had settled the matter, and they'd decided to hide the box away in the back of the hall closet until someone - they were both thinking Jake - could take it back to Mary.  Heather had just finished burying the soda under a couple of musty-smelling blankets she'd found on the upper shelf when April had come back downstairs, still determined to go to the clinic.

"Sweetheart, you can't," Gail had argued.  "It's not safe."  She'd started to ask Heather to explain, but then April's face had crumpled and, clutching the banister, she'd lowered herself to the bottom step, sobbing quietly. 

Heather and Gail had rushed to comfort her, seating themselves on either side of her, and offering hugs and soothing words.  They had remained like this for nearly five minutes before April had struggled loose and run for the bathroom.  "Let me," Heather had requested when their mother-in-law had started to follow, and Gail, taking a deep breath, had nodded her reluctant consent to the plan. 

Eventually, Heather had gotten April back upstairs.  She'd been sick three times, and still nauseous, had refused to leave the bathroom for a long while.  April had been completely spent, both emotionally and physically, by the time she'd allowed Heather to lead her back to her bedroom.  As soon as they'd stepped through the doorway, April had spotted a shirt of Eric's that was laying, neatly folded, across the back of the desk chair, and Heather had braced herself for another onslaught of tears, but instead April had growled and, grabbing the shirt off the chair, had balled it up and then thrown it on the floor, stepping on it purposely.  She'd stood on top of it, looking down for a few seconds before letting out a long, somewhat shaky breath.  Stepping off of the shirt, April had covered her face with her hands.  "God, he's such a bastard," she'd muttered through her fingers.

Heather had led her to the bed then, gently forcing her to sit.  "Are you gonna be all right, staying in here?" she'd asked hesitantly, rubbing April's back.  The house was full now that Dhuwalia was occupying the guestroom.  "You can lay down in our room if you want," she'd suggested.

"That'd work until tonight, but then what?" April had returned shaking her head.  "It's okay.  I'll - I'll be fine.  God, I've got such a headache," she'd groaned before beginning to chuckle humorlessly.  "Don't worry, I'm not gonna lose it again," April had promised as Heather had helped her pull the covers down. 

Heather had stayed with her sister-in-law until she'd fallen asleep.   Then she'd retrieved a book from her own room before returning downstairs where she found her mother-in-law in the living room, running a dust cloth over what Heather was pretty sure was the completely dust-free mantle.  "How is she?" Gail asked, pausing in her efforts.

"Sleeping," Heather yawned, adding, "Excuse me," as she covered her mouth.  "With everything else?" she sighed, dropping onto the couch, "I just don't know." 

"I knew that things weren't good," Gail admitted, frowning.  "But I never expected - I never thought -"  She broke off, throwing her arms up into the air.  "I'm so mad at him," she growled angrily, pressing her hand to her mouth.  Gail didn't say anything for a long moment while she fought for control.  "I didn't - my sons - how did this happen?" she demanded, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table. 

"I don't know," Heather answered sadly.  She leaned back, closing her eyes.  "I don't know how this happened."

Gail didn't immediately respond, but then Heather felt her mother-in-law pat her leg.  "Perhaps some tea would do us some good?"

Heather nodded, not bothering to open her eyes.  "Peppermint?  If we have it?" she requested softly.  "I'm suddenly feeling sick to my stomach again."

"Yeah," Gail muttered, her voice husky.  "Me too." 

Her eyes still closed, Heather heard her mother-in-law stand up and trudge toward the kitchen. Gail's footsteps seemed to echo with the disappointment and shock that Heather also felt.  She pressed both hands over the swell of the baby she carried within her, forcing herself to take a deep breath.  The whole situation was a nightmare, and Heather actually resorted to pinching the back of her own hand, completely aware that she wouldn't wake up to find out that this was all a dream.  She ached for April - her best girlfriend, a true sister of the heart - and while she couldn't begin to imagine what this would do to their family, Heather knew that the effects wouldn't be good. 

A loud knock at the front door startled Heather out of her morose thoughts.  She jumped slightly in her seat, her eyes popping open.  Pulling herself up, she groaned at her reaction, calling out, "I'll get it!" loudly enough - she hoped - for Gail to hear her in the kitchen without disturbing Johnston or April upstairs.  Hurrying into the entry, Heather remembered at the last minute to check through the window before throwing the door open.  She was surprised to see Stephanie Hyde standing on the front porch with her older daughter, Amy, and what looked like, of all things, groceries.  Stephanie was carrying two gallon-sized freezer bags of meat, and Amy held - carefully, with both hands - a half gallon plastic container filled with milk.

"Mrs. Hyde - Stephanie," Heather corrected herself, opening the door.  "Amy," she greeted the little girl, smiling at her.  "Would you like to come in," she invited automatically. 

"No thank you," Stephanie Hyde replied.  "This is definitely a quick visit.  Matty and Katie are in the car with my sister and her two," she explained, looking back over her shoulder at the powder blue seventies' vintage station wagon parked at the curb.  "Gotta love Michelle.  She was waiting out at the bridge for us when we came over.  Never would have occurred to me to do that," Stephanie admitted, shaking her head.

"You had to come in because of everything happening out at the bridge," Heather guessed, nodding absently.  "Did Jake -"

"He did," Stephanie confirmed, interrupting.  "He was out at our place about two hours ago.  Just long enough to fill us in on what's going on," she sighed, glancing down at her daughter.  Heather realized she was choosing her words carefully.  "He said he'd already been out to the Herberts', and he was working his way back into town.  Actually," she remembered, "He was already at the bridge when we came in.  I saw him, helping Deputy Taylor with something."  Stephanie allowed a deep sigh, flashing a tight smile at Heather.  "Derek and his dad wouldn't leave.  Before - before everything, we were actually doing pretty well farming.  They won't abandon what we've got left."

Heather tried to force a smile but ended up frowning instead.  "I'm sure it'll be okay," she said, hoping to reassure the other woman.  "Jake said they just needed to make a show of force, and that would convince Ravenwood to leave, to go somewhere else."

"Well, it's a show of force all right," Stephanie agreed, nodding.  "An armed camp."  She took a deep breath, declaring, "Anyway, this is for you."  She held out the plastic bags bulging with raw beef.  "The milk, too," she added, glancing down at her daughter.  "Amy, give the milk to Mrs. Green," Stephanie instructed, looking back at Heather.  "The milk was my idea, actually.  I figured, since you're pregnant," she explained, gesturing at Heather's abdomen, "You could use the calcium.  Probably should just sit down and have a glass right away." 

Heather barely had time to shove one of the bags of meat under her arm before Amy deposited the bottle of milk in her hands. "Well - Oh!  Thank you!" she declared, offering the little girl a distracted smile.  "Thank you," she repeated, looking at Stephanie.  "I - This is very nice of you.  But why?"

"Because Derek promised Jake the meat on Halloween," Stephanie replied, her expression clouding with confusion so that it matched Heather's.  "And, I'm guessing he didn't tell you anything about this," she decided.

"Uh, no," Heather acknowledged, chuckling softly.  "Must've slipped his mind," she sighed.  "We've had a lot going on around here."

"We've all had a lot going on," Stephanie agreed.  Amy slipped her hand into her mother's, leaning against her side.  Stephanie smiled at her daughter, asking, "But the mayor's good?"

"Doing well," Heather confirmed.  "Still exhausted.  A little grumpy when he's awake, but we're taking that as a good sign."

"That's good," Stephanie murmured distractedly.  "And, we really do need to go.  Um," she exhaled, pushing her hair behind her ears with her free hand.  "The meat's gonna be pretty tough.  It's dairy cow - definitely not filet mignon.  Of course, it's probably the last beef anyone's gonna see in Jericho for awhile," she grumbled.  "And, it's protein and iron, which I'm sure you could use, too.  You can grind it if you've got a meat grinder," Stephanie advised, as Amy started to swing their linked hands back and forth. "Maybe throw some of it in stew and let if cook for a long time, soften it up some, that sort of thing."

"Okay," Heather nodded.  "I'm sure Gail's got a meat grinder hidden away somewhere."

"And, remember the milk is straight from the cow.  Definitely whole milk," Stephanie chuckled, shaking her head. 

"It'll be great in coffee if nothing else," Heather joked.  "Seriously, thank you," she sighed.  "This is very generous.  You really didn't have to."

Stephanie shrugged.  "Derek's big on keeping promises, following through on commitments," she muttered, resting her hand on top of Amy's head.  "He did most of the packing for me.  I just - I just couldn't," she admitted, frowning.  "He put some meat in for us - couldn't really show up at Michelle's without food for ourselves - and then for you and Jake.  Asked me to drop it off," Stephanie recalled, shaking her head.  "I was bringing milk for the kids, and I remembered you...."  She trailed off shrugging again.  "Derek promised that everything's gonna be okay.  That's the only reason I agreed to come into town while he stayed out at the farm."

"Hopefully it's only a few days," Heather suggested, grasping at anything that might ease the worry that was so evident in Stephanie's expression.  She was concerned about Jake of course, but she took a certain amount of comfort in the knowledge that he was safely back at the bridge on guard duty with all the other men.  Heather couldn't imagine being in Stephanie's shoes, with her husband and father-in-law planning to defend the family farm, if necessary, all on their own.   "Just until Ravenwood realizes we're not gonna give them the supplies."

"Well, once the bridge is gone, I think they'll figure it out," Stephanie returned, shooting Heather a funny look.  "But we still won't have a bridge."

"Why would the bridge be gone?" Heather asked, though she'd forgotten her words before they were even out of her mouth.  Eric was striding across the lawn, almost jogging.  Setting the meat and milk down on the porch, Heather pushed by her visitors, moving to the top step where she planted herself, hands on hips, to block his entry to the house.  "No!" she declared, facing her brother-in-law with a fierce glare.  "No way in hell, Eric, are you coming into this house right now," she informed him, not quite shouting. 

"Heather!" he tried to interrupt, but to no avail.  She was on a tear.

"You're an ass, Eric," she told him, her cheeks beginning to turn pink as she got even more worked up.  "And unless you've come to your senses, and you're here to beg April for her forgiveness - and I mean on your hands and knees begging - then I'm not letting -"

"Heather!" Eric snapped, moving up a step.  "I don't have time for this," he insisted, dropping a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder.  He shoved past Heather, muttering, "I have to talk to Dad."  

Eric hurried across the front porch, nodding out of habit at Stephanie Hyde, who stood with her arm around her daughter, gawking at him.  Spotting the food Heather had abandoned at the last second, Eric hopped over it, narrowly avoiding kicking over the milk. 

"I'm sorry," Heather exhaled, turning around to face Stephanie.  She crossed her arms, hugging herself, her expression grim.  "I - I should go in."

"Yeah," Stephanie nodded, pursing her lips.  "Looks like you've got your hands full around here, and we need to go anyway," she reminded, forcing a smile as she looked down at her daughter.  "Say good bye to Mrs. Green," she prompted.

"Bye, Mrs. Green," Amy called out, already tugging on her mother's hand.  Stephanie waved once at Heather, and then followed the little girl down the steps. 

Taking a deep breath, Heather bent over to scoop up the plastic bags of beef and the container of milk.  In his haste, Eric had left the front door ajar, and she elbowed her way in, pushing the door closed with her foot. 

"I didn't mean for things to turn out this way," she heard Eric tell Gail.  The two of them were standing on the stairs, Eric towering over his mother. 

"Oh really?" Gail questioned, her tone strident.  "How did you mean for things to turn out?" she demanded, getting louder.  "You're the one who chose not to work on your marriage," Gail accused her son, pointing her finger at him.  "You're the one who chose to cheat on your wife."

Heather set the food down on the hall table and then moved behind her mother-in-law, though she really didn't know what she had to offer besides her presence.  Eric's gaze flickered over her as he began to defend himself.  "I'm trying to do the right thing," he protested, glancing back and forth between the two women.  "I know it doesn't seem that way right now."

The creak of the stairs cut off whatever response Gail was about to make.  They all looked up to see Johnston, dressed in his bathrobe and gripping the banister, making his way slowly toward them.  "What's going on?" he inquired, his voice rusty from disuse. 

"Johnston!" Gail called out, obviously worried as she elbowed her way past her son.

"Dad," Eric declared, turning around to face his father.  "Mercenaries from Rogue River, they followed us back," he explained quickly, taking advantage of his mother's distraction.  "Now, we have a checkpoint at the Tacoma Bridge, and I think we can defend it," he insisted, running his hand through his hair.  "But there's a plan to destroy it, cut off the town."

Behind him, Heather gasped.  The odd bits of her conversation with Stephanie Hyde were starting to add up.  Frowning, Johnston asked, "Gray Anderson?" and for Heather that made even more sense.  Gray Anderson had been back in Jericho for less than a week, and he'd already challenged Johnston's authority as mayor and made a grab for power on at least two occasions of which she was aware. 

 "Yeah," Eric returned, shuffling his feet in agitation.  "He's up there wiring it right now."

"Hard to imagine Gray Anderson turning out to be untrustworthy," Heather offered sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.  Eric's only response was a grimace, and this was only seen by Johnston who, stunned by his daughter-in-law's uncharacteristic but readily apparent animosity, said nothing.  Shaking her head, Heather fought back tears as she continued.  "Or, are we not supposed to mention that you sided with Gray against Jake, oh, two days ago?  'Cause, after all, you were just trying to do the right thing, right?" she challenged, her voice cracking.

Gail moved around Eric then, returning to Heather's side to wrap her arm around the younger woman.  A lump began to develop in Johnston's stomach as he contemplated all the things that could have gone wrong while he'd been ill.  He faced his son.  "What happened, Eric?" he asked gruffly.

"Dad!" Eric practically shouted in his frustration, throwing his hands up.  "That's not important now.  They're about twenty minutes from blowing up the Tacoma Bridge forever!" 

"Where are Jimmy and Bill?" Johnston questioned, focusing on the crisis at hand, willing to let Heather's charges go for the moment. 

"Out there helping Gray," Eric retorted.  "Dad," he complained, "I'm alone on this one."

Johnston, over his initial shock, was beginning to grow angry about the situation and his own inability to do anything about it. His cough was gone, but he still felt incredibly weak.  He held onto the handrail, using it to keep himself from falling to his knees.  "Get your brother and stop 'em," he ground out, exasperation coloring his tone.

"Jake is with them, too," Eric protested, drawing another gasp from Heather.

"Jake went out to warn the people east of town about Ravenwood," she countered.  "Like the Hydes -"  Heather cut herself off then, covering her mouth with her hand.  Stephanie had said that she'd seen Jake at the bridge when she'd come into Jericho.  She'd also said that soon they wouldn't have a bridge.  "Oh God," she swore softly.

Johnston spared Heather a few seconds' glance, long enough to confirm that Gail still had her arm around their daughter-in-law, before fixing his stare on Eric.  "Then you stop them," he ordered, his gaze narrowing.  "Whatever it takes, you stop 'em," Johnston barked out.

"Dad -"

Raising his voice, Johnston spoke over his son.  "Whatever it takes, Eric," he insisted.

Eric gaped at his father, but whatever further argument he had considered mounting died on his lips when he recognized the fury in Johnston's eyes.  Without a word, he turned and slid past Heather and his mother, unable to meet either woman's eye.  Johnston watched as Eric sprinted from the house, once again leaving the front door ajar.

"So tell me," he muttered tiredly, "What else is goin' on around here that's got everyone in such a state?"

Heather was still ashen, both hands pressed to her face, hiding her eyes and mouth from his view.  Gail, who was rubbing Heather's back, glared at Johnston.  "What's going on is that this morning your son told April that their marriage is over and that he's in love with Mary Bailey," she practically spat out, her anger eloquently expressed in the look she gave him.

"And your other son," Heather started, dropping her hands from her face and letting her eyes fall closed, "Is apparently helping to blow up a bridge."

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

Different Circumstances: Part 9C of ?
by Marzee Doats

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

"What happens if they come back?" Gray Anderson challenged. He took a couple of steps toward Jake and Eric, backing them further into the corner the crowd had trapped them in. Jake could practically see Gray puff up as the disgruntled mob that had filled the sheriff's station began to mutter and grumble their agreement. From around the room there were calls of "Yeah!" and "That's right!"

"We've got armed sentries posted!" Eric shouted over the still-growing mass of irate citizens.

"And, if it comes to it, the bridge is still wired!" Jake yelled, glancing sideways at his brother. He and Eric hadn't spoken since Eric had gone for Jonah Prowse's help, and Jake wasn't sure if that was because they were still fighting or if they just hadn't had the chance. They had avoided one another while working the mop up operation at bridge, and once they were back at town hall, they'd presented a united front, talking to others and around one another without actually engaging in any sort of conversation.

It had taken longer than Jake had expected to get everything settled at the bridge. They'd waited an hour after Ravenwood's departure to ensure that the mercenaries were really gone, by which point they had volunteers to run the checkpoint for the evening and night, as well as relief scheduled for the morning. Remembering his promise to Heather, and realizing that he and Eric might be tied up for hours, Jake had collared Clyde Davis and asked him to stop by the house to let the family know that everything was fine for now. After that, Jake and Jimmy had driven out to check the roadblocks that were now up on Cherry Valley Road and Mott Avenue, and to drop off reinforcements and supplies. It was an hour past dark by the time he'd arrived back at town hall and walked into the tempest that Gray seemed rather happy to be creating.

"I still say we take it out now!" Gray bellowed next, prompting more approving rumbling from the mob of people.

"Well, you're not callin' the shots, Gray," Johnston Green reminded, threading his way through the crowd, which parted automatically for him. Gail followed behind him, their hands clasped, though she allowed Johnston to drop hers as he approached his political rival. Jake's gaze drifted to the empty space beyond his mother, looking for Heather. He didn't know whether to be concerned or relieved that neither she nor April had come to town hall with his parents.

"Glad to see you're on your feet, Johnston," Gray muttered, though it was an obvious lie.

Johnston spared the other man an irritated glance. "Mayor," he corrected loudly, moving toward his sons. He looked them over, his expression growing even angrier. Without a word, he turned his back on them and addressed the citizens gathered around the room. "Now, maybe one of you would like to tell me just exactly who you think is in charge here!" he demanded. Johnston continued not bothering to wait for an answer he knew no one would provide. "If we're hit from the other side, that bridge might be our only line of retreat," he explained, shouting to be heard. "Help is on the other side of that bridge. Our people," he yelled, his gaze drifting over Stanley and Bonnie Richmond, "The whole world, is on the other side of that bridge! And we destroy that bridge, we've already lost."

"Everyone wants this to happen, including your son," Gray barked in return, gesturing in Jake's direction.

Jake's startled at that, his shock at being called out evident on his face. His mother caught his eye, and surprisingly, there wasn't much sympathy in her expression. A sour taste pervaded Jake's mouth, reminding him that he couldn't trust Gray Anderson farther than he could throw him. He'd worked with the older man despite this fact, justifying his choice by telling himself that he was using Gray; it was obvious now that Gray had been using Jake too, and that he'd done a better job of it.

"No. Not everyone," Stanley declared, grabbing his rifle from where he'd propped it against the wall. He nodded at Johnston, acknowledging the look they'd exchanged a few seconds earlier, before pointing his sister toward the exit. "You come up with a real plan to protect this town, you let me know," he announced following Bonnie out.

Clearing his throat, Jake began, "Dad, I think you should -"

Turning his head, Johnston glared at his son. "Hold your tongue," he snapped before returning his focus to the crowd of citizens in front of him. He stared at them, looking around the room, sizing up Jericho's citizens. "I'm the only one here who was elected," he reminded them gruffly. "I will not do this. It is as simple as that."

"Maybe it's time we let the people decide if they still want you makin' their decisions," Gray drawled defiantly.

Johnston's only response was a raised eyebrow and a narrow look. "This is over. This meeting is over," he announced, holding his hand out to Gail. She stepped forward to take it, and they exited together, heading toward the staircase and Johnston's office upstairs.

The crowd began to disperse and even Gray Anderson couldn't manage to whip them back into a frenzy after Johnston's pronouncement, or - perhaps more importantly - Stanley's parting shot. Jake and Eric stood around awkwardly watching the room empty. Finally Eric left, crossing the vestibule to his office. Jake trailed behind him slowly. He knew he needed to speak to his father, but he was in no hurry to initiate that particular conversation.

"Jake," Eric muttered, clearly feeling caught as he exited his office only to find his path blocked by his brother. "Look, ah, I'm going over to Mary's," he explained, shrugging into his jacket and jerking his head in the general direction of Bailey's Tavern. "I - I told April," he confessed. "This morning."

Nodding, Jake frowned softly. "How'd she take it?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. Eric made a face, and Jake exhaled deeply. "That well, huh?"

Eric allowed a sardonic chuckle. "Yeah, well, it takes a lot to get April mad, but once you do...."

"You were expecting her to be happy?" Jake questioned, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Spreading his hands open wide, Eric growled in frustration. "April had divorce papers drawn up before the bombs. I found 'em when we were cleaning up after the fire." He shook his head. "I honestly didn't think she'd care. Hell, I thought she'd be relieved. We couldn't have kids, and then somewhere along the way, we just turned into roommates."

Jake didn't look convinced. "All you've been is roommates, huh?" he returned, snorting.

Eric had the good grace to blush, though he still defended himself. "Neither of us has been happy for a long while. You know, we went away for the weekend just before the bombs, and we actually had a great time together, like we used to," he confided, surprising Jake. "But it didn't last. We came home, and everything was back to normal. No good. Just two people livin' in the same house. I can't get back what I used to have with April, but I can at least have that now with Mary. And, look," Eric reminded, exhaling nervously, "You're the one who said life's too short."

"I also said you had to make a choice, stop stringing them both along," Jake clarified. "That doesn't mean you don't have to deal with the fallout."

"Well, we've got that," Eric mumbled. "Mom and Heather are pretty angry too," he admitted. "Sorry 'bout that."

"They're mad at you, not me," Jake returned, studying his brother's face; Eric had always been very easy to read, and his sheepish expression was doing nothing for Jake's confidence. "Right, Eric?" he demanded. "Because, you know, I've got enough of my own trouble right now," he reminded, glancing at the ceiling - the mayor's office - above them. "I'm not answering for any of yours. I didn't tell you to leave April."

Eric acknowledged this statement with a frown and then clapped Jake on the shoulder. "All I'm sayin' is, April's still at the house, and Mom and Heather are there too. I'm not the one who has to live with them."

With that, Eric moved past Jake, heading for the main door. Looking over his shoulder, watching him leave, Jake muttered, "Gee, thanks, brother." Releasing a long breath, he moved toward the staircase and then climbed it slowly, delaying the inevitable if only for a few seconds.

His parents were together in his father's office. Gail stood next to Johnston's chair, and they were quietly discussing something in a manila folder that she held open for them both to read. For some reason, Jake felt as if he was intruding on an intimate moment despite the fact that they weren't even touching. He recalled at that moment, being nine years old and running into the living room to find his mother sitting in his father's lap, crying. Gail had received a phone call with the news that her mother had died, and Johnston had held her in a vise-like embrace, pressing gentle kisses to her hairline, not saying anything. Jake had watched them from the doorway, and had known he didn't belong in that room, that he'd be interrupting. He felt that way now, but still he forced himself to knock on the doorjamb, drawing their attention from one another.

Gail straightened, closing the folder and clutching it against her chest. "I'll be outside," she murmured, stepping out from behind Johnston's rather unimposing desk. His mother looked both exhausted and unhappy; she didn't make eye contact. She was actually a step or two past Jake when she changed her mind, pivoting back around to face him.

"You're an adult, Jake," Gail frowned, clutching his arm. "You and Eric. And if today's taught me one thing, it's that you don't answer to me," she muttered, shaking her head softly. "But you answer to Heather," his mother reminded him, tightening her grip on his arm. "Or at least I assume you still do," she added, a bitter note creeping into her tone. "After this," she sighed, cocking her head in the direction of his father, "Go home. Talk to her. She needs some answers."

Gail let go of his arm and, without waiting for any sort of acknowledgment, slipped out of the office. Jake watched her go, too startled by her admonishment to even respond. He'd thought he'd have opportunity to explain everything to Heather later, but now Jake suspected someone had beaten him to the punch. He almost called his mother back to ask what, exactly, she was referring to, but the words died on his lips, and he settled for staring after her until she turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Taking a deep breath, Jake faced Johnston, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. He'd talk to Heather in a little while, but first he needed to speak with his father. Dragging his feet, he stepped toward the desk, asking softly, "I kinda put you in a bad position out there, huh?"

Johnston, shuffling the papers on his desk absently, held his son's gaze for a long moment before answering. "Gray used you, Son," he told Jake, clearing his throat. "I hope you see that."

"Dad, you didn't see what those guys are capable of," Jake protested, holding up his hands. He couldn't help thinking that this was exactly why he hadn't told Heather anything about what he'd seen in Rogue River. Even now, he wasn't sure if he would be able to describe that horror to her. "But, I'm not here to fight," he assured his father.

That at least caught Johnston's attention and he abandoned his paperwork, leaning back in his chair. "What are you here for?" he questioned.

"We need a security force," Jake answered, giving voice to the idea that had been niggling at him ever since Jonah Prowse had issued his parting shot, telling them that they needed to figure out how to fight for themselves. He knew Jonah's suggestion was rooted in self-interest; he wanted access to his daughter and to the town, now that a business arrangement of sorts existed between Jericho and West Kansas Shipping and Freight. But Jonah was also absolutely right in that they needed to start taking responsibility for their own safety.

Jake could see the argument beginning to form in his father's frown. "A real one," he continued in a rush of breath. "Trained. Sanctioned by you."

His expression still skeptical, Johnston carefully maneuvered himself up and out of his chair. Walking slowly, he crossed the office to the corner bookcase. Running his fingers along the spines of volumes on the middle shelf, he selected one, and then carried the book to Jake. "This belonged to your grandfather," Johnston explained. "He had it on him when he landed at D-Day." He placed the book, the U.S. Ranger Handbook, into Jake's open hands. "When he had to take command of his platoon, that manual and his training got him from Omaha Beach to Germany."

Nodding, Jake studied the book cover, tracing his index finger over the title. "I remember the story," he admitted, his tone reverent, finally looking up at Johnston.

The two men studied one another for a few seconds, and then Johnston returned his son's nod. "Make sure you do it right," he instructed, holding Jake's gaze for another moment.

Jake's eyes widened slightly as the meaning of his father's words struck him fully. He really hadn't thought that Johnston would give the assignment to him. Unable to speak, Jake shook his head again, acknowledging the trust his father was placing in him.

"And Jake?" Johnston said, turning to move back to his desk. "I had dinner tonight with three rather emotional women. Now, some of that - most of that - was about Eric and April," he sighed, pursing his lips. "But some of it was about you." He picked up a pen and looked down at the papers stacked on his desk. "Get your house in order," Johnston grumbled. "And since, for now, your house lives in my house.... Talk to your wife. An apology would probably be a good place to start."

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

Sunday, November 11, five years before the bombs

Heather watched as Jake walked around the single-engine Cessna one more time, checking his handiwork. The flight from Jericho had lasted just over two and a half hours, and they had landed - a perfect landing as far as Heather could tell - at the Rock Springs - Sweetwater County Airport twenty minutes before. On the ground, Jake had taxied the plane around to the south side of the general aviation terminal, where as he'd explained to her, they could leave the plane while they went for lunch.

Bringing the plane to a complete stop and powering down, Jake had grinned at her and said, "Your captain has turned off the seat belt sign," before leaning over to kiss her. "You may now move about the cabin," he'd added, chuckling softly when he pulled away. "But, stay there," Jake had commanded, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. He'd exited through the cockpit door then, coming around the nose of the plane to open her door for her and hand her out. "So, you havin' fun?" he'd asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Oh, yeah," Heather had giggled, pressing her mouth to his. "This was a great idea," she'd assured him.

She wasn't sure that 'great idea' truly covered it. Their day had been close to perfect so far. Heather had been anxious at first that she'd get airsick, but she'd worn the Sea-Bands that she usually wore whenever she was on the water, and they had worked very well, much to her relief. Plus, the flight itself had been fun and fascinating. The plane Jake was flying was relatively new, one in a small fleet of planes owned by Jayhawk Aviation, a company in which, as Jake had explained, Grandpa Green had long been a silent partner. It hadn't been nearly as noisy in the cabin as she'd expected, and they had talked about what they were seeing and anything else that occurred to them.

Although he relied on the plane's instruments, Jake had brought along navigational charts for Heather to look at, giving her a crash course in how to read them before they'd taken off from Jericho Airfield. Jake was fairly familiar with the territory they had flown over, and he'd played tour guide very well. Heather had her camera with her, in her backpack which she'd shoved down into the space at her feet - a clear violation of FAA regulations she'd been sure, but Jake hadn't seemed to care - and she'd retrieved it, amusing Jake by taking photos of the scenery, though he'd rolled his eyes when she'd turned the camera on him.

About halfway through the flight Jake had snorted, pointing out what he deemed 'illegal cultivation on federal lands'. Heather had asked what he was going to do about it, and he'd admitted that he wasn't planning to do anything, changing his mind when he caught a glimpse of her scandalized expression. He'd asked then if she had anything to write with, and had read off some coordinates to her, promising to call it in. Heather had beamed at him, earning herself a lopsided grin in return.

"So, give me a few minutes, and then we can go," Jake had said, releasing her reluctantly. He'd explained then that he needed to inspect the aircraft and tie it down so they could get to the diner. Both of their stomachs had gurgled softly at the mere mention of eating, and she'd laughingly ordered him to hurry. Heather had stuck close, careful to stay out of Jake's way even as she studied his movements. He was obviously in his element, whistling softly to himself as he conducted his post-flight check and then secured the plane. Unable to resist the opportunity, Heather dug her camera out of her backpack, snapping another photo of Jake just as he came around the front of the aircraft.

"Why'd you do that?" he complained, frowning at her.

"Because I wanted a picture of you," she replied, grinning in return.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Why do you need a picture of me?" he asked, smirking. "You've already got the real thing."

Heather laughed, shaking her head. "True, but the real thing's going to Denver for four days," she reminded him. "This'll tide me over. Besides, I'm fascinated by 'Serious Pilot Jake'," she murmured, their gazes locking as he stepped closer.

He took Heather's camera out of her hand then, and squatting, returned it to her backpack, open at her feet. Standing, he pulled her into his arms again, and brushed a teasing kiss across the corner of her mouth. "'Serious Pilot Jake' is part of keepin' the plane from fallin' out of the sky," he told her.

"Oh, sure, wait 'til we're in Wyoming to tell me that," Heather joked, twining her arms around his neck. "Now I'm a really, really big fan of 'Serious Pilot Jake'."

"All part of the plan, babe," he chuckled. "All part of the plan."

They heard the sound of a motor and looked up in time to see an AvFuel truck come around the corner of the general aviation hangar. The truck rumbled across the tarmac and came to a stop about fifty feet away. Jake waved to the driver, shouting, "Afternoon!" as the man exited the cab.

"Afternoon!" the driver returned. "You're Green?" he asked, pulling his ball cap on. "I've gotta fuel order for Green."

"That's us," Jake agreed, lacing his fingers through Heather's. "We're goin' over to Dolly Doolittle's for lunch," he explained, "Be gone 'bout two hours."

The driver nodded. "I'll getcha squared away while you're gone," he promised. "Just need -"

Jake nodded and, letting go of Heather's hand, pulled his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket. He extracted a fuel company credit card and handed it to the driver, who slipped it under the clamp at the top of his clipboard, and began to copy down the information he required.

"Thank you," the driver - George, according to his nametag - said, handing the card back. He held the clipboard and pen out to Jake. "Sign at the X's and we'll be good to go, Johnston."

Not bothering to correct George, Jake accepted the clipboard, quickly scribbling his name next to each of three X's on the form. Meanwhile, Heather had taken advantage of his distraction to retrieve her camera from her backpack. Jake handed the form back to George just as she took their picture.

"Heather," Jake grumbled.

"Jake," she returned, grinning at him.

Separating the bottom copy of the form from the packet, George returned it to Jake. "Sorry 'bout the name thing," he apologized.

"It's okay," Jake assured, stuffing the yellow sheet into his jacket pocket. "My father and I have the same name. So he's Johnston and I'm Jake, but it's fine." He glanced at Heather then, rolling his eyes. "I was signing a form," he protested. "You didn't need a picture of that."

Her grin widened. "Maybe I do," she argued.

Blatantly eavesdropping now, George smiled at Heather. "Scrapbooker?" he guessed. "My wife's a scrapbooker. If you want, I can take your picture in front of the plane," he offered, pointing at the Cessna.

"That would be great," Heather accepted, handing her camera to George. "Thank you!"

Groaning softly, Jake concurred. "Great idea."

Leaving her backpack on the ground, Heather reached for Jake's hand, dragging him over to stand a few feet in front of the plane's nose. Jake moved slightly behind Heather, pulling her back against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he reached for both her hands, threading his fingers through hers. Kissing her temple, Jake stooped slightly and, holding his head next to hers, pressed his cheek to hers. George took a few steps toward them and, lining up the picture he wanted, commanded, "Say cheese!" He waited a few seconds more - until they were both smiling - and then snapped the picture. "Stay there," he ordered. "Let me take another, just to be sure."

The second photo taken, Heather extracted herself from Jake's arms, moving toward George. "Thank you!" she declared, smiling at him.

"My pleasure," George beamed, handing the camera to Heather. "Where're you folks from?" he asked as Jake joined Heather, automatically reaching for her hand.

Heather, smiling back over her shoulder at Jake, answered for them both. "We're from Kansas. Little town called Jericho."

George nodded. "Newlyweds?"

Bending down to retrieve her backpack, Heather blushed almost immediately. Standing, she stammered out, "Oh! Oh, no! We're not - we're not married."

"Aw, geez," George muttered, clearly embarrassed. "There I go again," he continued, fumbling and then dropping his clipboard. "Open mouth, insert foot."

Jake reached down to pick up the clipboard, beating George to it. Heather wasn't certain, but she thought she heard him mumble, "Not yet." Straightening, he returned the clipboard and reached again for Heather's hand.

Sighing, Heather offered George a weak smile. "That's okay. You never know," she giggled nervously.

"Sure, sure," George agreed, his relief apparent. "Well, you two had better get over to Dolly's," he declared, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "Try the meatloaf and mashed potatoes," he recommended. "Peggy - that's Dolly's daughter - follows her Mama's recipe, and always makes 'em with garlic and a dollop of sour cream," George described, making Heather's mouth water. "The chicken pot pie's pretty good, too," he added, nodding to himself. "And, by the time you're back, I'll have ya refueled and ready to go."

They thanked him for the advice, and then Jake took Heather's backpack from her, pulling it on before holding his hand out to her. They started to walk toward the terminal, looking back over their shoulders to see George move the fuel truck next to the plane. The walked through the general aviation terminal, exchanging greetings with a security guard, who was the only person besides George on duty at this end of the airport for the holiday weekend. Outside, Jake pointed out the small commercial terminal at the other end of the airfield and they watched a United Express flight take off before making their way across the parking lot to the airport's exit.

Dolly Doolittle's Diner was just over a half mile from the airport, down the state highway. A path had long since been worn into the grassy strip of land between the highway and the airport property, and there were 'Burma Shave' style signs every hundred yards or so informing pedestrians that there were 'Good Eats Ahead!' and assuring them that they were 'Almost There!' Jake and Heather walked hand in hand, not bothering to talk. Heather looked around, drinking in the scenery. Autumn had a firm grip on the landscape, and it was obvious that winter wasn't far away.

"Hold up a minute," she requested, halting in her tracks. Jake complied, stopping and then taking a step back so that he stood next to her. Flashing him a smile, Heather moved behind him, unzipping one of her backpack's compartments.

"You're not seriously going to take another picture," Jake groaned, chuckling softly.

"Not right this minute," Heather answered, having retrieved the item she was after. She zipped up the pocket, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Though, I reserve the right. This is my first time in Wyoming, after all. It's my twenty-third state," Heather grinned, slipping her hand back into Jake's and holding up her cell phone for him to see.

"What states are you missing?" Jake asked as they started walking toward the restaurant again. "And, you suddenly remembered that you have to make a call?"

"Pretty much the whole South except for Florida and Georgia - if you count the Atlanta Airport as Georgia - and everything west of here," she replied. "And, yes, if I can get a signal," she continued, thumbing a speed dial number on the phone. "I'm gonna brag a little," Heather told him grinning. She stopped him again, and standing on tiptoe, kissed him quickly while her call rang through. "Hey!" she greeted when it did. They resumed their trek toward the diner, Heather demanding, "Guess where I am?"

Michael, her younger brother, did not sound at all enthusiastic in his reply. "Hey, Heth," he mumbled. "I really have no idea. Somewhere in Kansas that's undoubtedly very exciting," he answered dully.

"Uhhnh!" Heather said, imitating a game show buzzer and drawing a grin from Jake, who squeezed her hand. "Wrong state. Try again."

"A state bordering Kansas, then?" Michael asked, yawning. "And, hey, if I hafta guess, you hafta guess. Where'm I?"

"Oh, you're somewhere with Caitlin," Heather dismissed. "Library, dorm or dining hall. And, actually, the state I am in does not share a border with Kansas," she informed her brother. "So there."

"Then I have no idea," Michael answered. She could hear him shuffling things, wherever he was. "And, we're in the student union, so there."

Heather sighed. "So you're not gonna guess?"

"I give up," Michael returned. "You stumped me."

"Fine. Wyoming," Heather replied, her tone bordering on put out. "Now, guess how I got to Wyoming," she ordered.

"Levitation."

"Ha, ha. You're funny, Mikey. And weirdly close enough that I'll give it to you," Heather decided. "I flew here. In a private plane. Just for lunch," she practically squeaked, throwing Jake a wide grin and squeezing his hand. "With my own private pilot, in fact."

"Man, the boyfriend's really tryin' to impress you," Mikey grumbled in return. "'Heather and Jake, sittin' in a tree. K - I -'," he started to tease, but then she heard a scuffle at Michael's end of the call, and he was abruptly cut off.

"I smacked him for you," a female voice said next. "I'm Caitlin, by the way."

"Heather," she sighed. "And thank you. It's nice to finally talk to you," she added. "I've been wanting to."

Caitlin laughed. "I heard that about you. I'm not supposed to ever do his laundry, right?"

"Exactly," Heather confirmed.

"Well, I can pretty much promise that will never happen," Caitlin assured. "I'm not a big fan of laundry. I have to tell you though, your instructions were well written."

"I'm a teacher," Heather chuckled, shrugging. "I teach."

She heard another short struggle, punctuated by a giggling shriek from Caitlin, and then Michael came back on the phone. "Let me talk to the boyfriend," he demanded. "You talked to Caitlin, so I get to talk to Jake."

"What'd you do to her?" Heather asked, ignoring him. Caitlin was still laughing hysterically in the background.

"She's actually more ticklish than you," Michael answered. Heather could hear the grin in his voice. "Hmm. I think that's something I should tell the boyfriend."

"Yeah, right. That'll convince me to give the phone to Jake," she muttered, looking up at the subject of their conversation, rolling her eyes. "I don't think so."

In the next instance though, the cell phone was out of her hand, and Jake had it against his ear. "You need to talk to me?" Heather, now a half-step ahead of him, twisted around to stare, gaping at Jake. He reached for her hand, dragging her close and, holding the phone away from his mouth, pressed a light kiss to the corner of her still open mouth. "Sorry, babe," he murmured. "But this sounded interesting."

"Oh, man," Michael chuckled nervously, "She's so gonna kill you."

"You think?" Jake asked. "I just figured, Heather's met my whole family," he shrugged. "Thought maybe it was time I met someone in hers."

"Right," Michael muttered. He took a deep breath and began, "She's my only sister, so you know ...."

"I know," Jake answered, clearly his throat. He winked at Heather and wrapped his free arm around her, his hand pressed to the small of her back. "I know," he repeated, exhaling. "Trust me on that."

Michael waited a few seconds and then, carrying through on his threat, added conspiratorially, "She's also ticklish."

"Already knew that," Jake laughed softly.

"And, she's still my only sister," Michael reminded.

Their gazes locked, Jake smiled at Heather, who frowned at him suspiciously in return. He bit back a retort about 'nuns', remembering that Michael was the only one of Heather's brothers not involved in that debacle. Jake knew that, while she'd never actually admit to having a favorite, Michael was indeed Heather's favorite brother. Jake realized that he was willing to work for Michael's approval. Still smiling at her, Jake traced a lazy circle against her back with his fingertips. "And, I care about your sister."

"Well good," Michael sighed. "But, what are you doin' to me, man?" he demanded. "Private plane, Wyoming just for lunch? The coolest thing I have access to is the Zamboni."

"I know someone who's probably very jealous of that access," Jake chuckled, eyeing Heather. "So, do I pass?"

"For now," Michael conceded. "Lemme say 'bye' to Heather."

"Okay," Jake agreed, kissing Heather gently before returning her phone.

"So, does he pass?" Heather questioned her brother.

Michael laughed. "Like you'd listen to me if I said 'no'," he argued. "He calls you 'babe'. You guys are seriously serious. 'First comes love, then comes marriage'," Michael joked, laughing harder. "And you know what comes after that."

"You really are a juvenile, sometimes," she complained, starting to blush. She took a step away from Jake, afraid that he was able to hear her brother's teasing. "Where's my new friend Caitlin to smack you when I need her to?" Heather demanded.

"Snack bar," he answered. "And aren't you technically on date? Why exactly did you call me, anyway?" Michael questioned, not bothering to wait for her reply. "And, if he calls you 'babe', what do you call him? 'Stud muffin'? 'Pookie'? 'Honey bunny'? 'Snookums'?"

Heather groaned, turning an even brighter shade of red, drawing a concerned frown from Jake. "I am so hanging up now," she announced. "You're a pill, Mikey."

"Love you, too, sis," he returned, still chuckling. "Have a nice date."

"Yeah," she muttered, hearing him laughing as he broke their connection on his end. Heather punched her phone off, flipping it closed.

"You okay?" Jake asked, reaching for her free hand and then raising it to his mouth so he could kiss it.

"Yeah," Heather huffed, nodding absently. "My baby brother's just a brat." She smiled at him, shaking her head. "And, I'm hungry."

"Let's go then," Jake said, releasing her hand long enough to allow Heather to return her phone to her backpack. That task accomplished, they started back down the path to the diner, again holding hands.

Dolly Doolittle's Diner was a southern Wyoming institution, and even at nearly two o'clock in the afternoon the parking lot was packed. The signs they'd seen along the way had all been illustrated with Raggedy Ann and Andy-like characters done up as a pioneer woman and a cowboy, and there was one last sign, larger than the ones on the road, featuring the same pair in a pose reminiscent of American Gothic under the words 'Dolly Doolittle's Diner: Home Cookin' On The Range'.

"I have to take a picture!" Heather declared, grinning up at Jake. "This place is just too cute."

This time, Jake just laughed at her quietly and pulled off her backpack, holding it up for Heather to access. "What did you bring with you anyway?" he asked, curious. The bag wasn't extremely heavy but it was full, and knowing Heather, he guessed that she'd packed for a number of contingencies.

"My wallet, camera, phone, couple of bottles of water, some snacks," she listed, Jake nodding as each item was mentioned. "A notebook, couple of pens, two books, a sweater, extra socks and a rain slicker that folds up into its own little pouch," Heather completed, pulling her camera out. "I think that's it."

"You actually brought a book on a date," Jake snorted, his expression a perfect picture of consternation. He couldn't maintain it though and in the next instance he was smirking. "Nice to know that you're prepared in case of severe boredom or a plane crash," Jake kidded, chuckling.

For once, Heather didn't actually blush, but she did look embarrassed. "I always take a book on an airplane," she told him, starting to giggle at herself.

"Yeah, when you fly commercial," he retorted. Jake actually thought it was funny - and very Heather - that she'd brought a book - books! - along on their date, but he wasn't above ribbing her about it. He threw her backpack over his shoulder and moved closer to Heather, their arms brushing. "And here I was, trying to impress you," he told her, his tone still teasing, though he dropped the volume of his voice so that it was a husky rumble that sent shivers up her spine.

"Well, I haven't yet resorted to reading," Heather defended, looking up at him. Her expression had turned sheepish, and Jake couldn't resist dipping his head to brush his mouth across hers, nipping gently at her lip. "You're doing something right," she sighed, finding his hand with her free one.

"Good to know," Jake murmured, their gazes locked, as he lifted his head.

Heather shook hers to clear it, and taking a deep breath, grinned at Jake defiantly. "And, two bottles of water won't get us very far at all, so no crashing on the way home," she commanded.

"Yes, ma'am," Jake joked, taking a step back and giving her a mock salute. "Take your picture," he told her, cocking his head toward the restaurant's sign. "I'm hungry."

"Okay," she agreed, smiling at him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then checking behind her to make sure everything was clear, Heather backed up a few feet in order to get both the sign and the diner building into her photo. "Let's have lunch," she declared a few seconds later, turning off her camera.

"Would you like us to take your picture in front of the sign?" an older woman asked as Jake held the backpack out so Heather could put her camera away. She was standing with an older man, her husband, Jake had guessed when he'd noticed them a few moments before. They had stopped on the sidewalk, waiting just outside of Heather's photo while she'd taken it. "That's always been a cute picture," the woman added, smiling at them both.

Heather looked up at Jake, trying to gauge his reaction to the offer. "It's the last picture I'll make you pose for today," she promised.

"Kinda hard to refuse that deal," Jake chuckled. "So, deal."

"Thanks," Heather grinned at him, her eyes dancing, before turning to give the camera to the woman.

"Oh, no," the woman said, holding her hands up and taking a step back. "Have Hank take it. He's better with things like that."

Hank took the camera from Heather, asking a few questions to make sure he knew how it worked. Jake grabbed her hand then, pulling her across the tiny strip of lawn to the sign.

"You know," Jake whispered, kissing Heather's ear once they'd arranged themselves in front of the small billboard, slightly to the left so that they didn't obscure either the Doolittle Dolls characters or the diner's name and motto. "I think she's a schoolmarm. She just has that look about her."

Heather turned her head then, craning her neck to study the female character, unknowingly thwarting Hank who had been two seconds from snapping their picture. "She's very prim and proper here," she agreed, giggling softly. "But I don't know, some of the signs on the road," Heather reminded, glancing up at Jake, "Had her dressed as a saloon girl."

"Saloon girl turned schoolmarm, then," Jake teased. This time they both looked back at the sign, once again frustrating their photographer. "And, he seems just fine with that," he suggested, nodding at the male character. This was apparently true; although the characters were posed much like the farmer and his wife in Grant Wood's American Gothic, the Doolittle Dolls were as cheerful as the original characters were dour.

Nodding, Heather conceded to Jake's argument. "Okay then. But, that just makes you the cowboy."

"Naturally," he agreed, chuckling and kissing the top of Heather's head.

It was this picture that Hank managed to finally capture, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Okay, folks," he called out, grateful that their attention appeared to be returning to the matter at hand. "Say cheese!"

"Cheese!" Heather pronounced dutifully, and Jake surprised her by joining in. Her smile instantly doubled in size. Hank snapped this photo, and then another immediately after, when Heather looked up at Jake, beaming. Dipping his head, Jake pressed a kiss to her mouth, and this ended up being Hank's last picture.

"Thank you so much," Heather sighed when she and Jake had rejoined the older couple on the sidewalk.

"Our pleasure," Hank told her, returning the camera. "So, you folks fly in for lunch?"

"Sure did," Jake answered, reaching for Heather's hand. "We're from Kansas. Jericho. I've been itchin' to fly, and Heather's never been here, so we decided to come up."

"This is my first time in Wyoming, even," she explained, leaning against Jake's arm.

"Well then, welcome to Wyoming," Hank returned. "Couldn't pick a better place to visit than Dolly's, though I'm probably a little biased," he said, throwing his wife a sideways smile. "You know," he continued, "I've bought horses from a man in Jericho for years. Bought one, oh, two years ago now. EJ Green."

"Gramps!" Heather exclaimed, grinning.

"EJ's my grandfather," Jake clarified a second later.

"Small world," Hank laughed, shaking his head. "Well, be sure to tell your grandpa 'hello' from Dolly and Hank."

Heather gasped and stared, open-mouthed, at the two of them. "You're -You're Dolly?" she demanded, looking over her shoulder at the sign. "You're Dolly Doolittle?"

"Sure am," Dolly confirmed. "Our girls were raised in that kitchen, and our youngest - Peggy - took over about six years ago now, but -"

"But, it's still Dolly's place," Hank declared, wrapping an arm around his wife.

Dolly smiled, nodding. "It's still all my recipes, that's for sure. And, I don't cook like that at home anymore, so I have to let Hank come down a couple of times a week to eat his favorites."

"The first time I tried Dolly's fried chicken, I knew this was a woman I could marry," Hank joked. "And, by the time I'd had some of her apple crisp with a scoop of her homemade ice cream, well, I was in love."

"They do say that's the way to a man's heart," Dolly laughed, patting Hank on the stomach. "We've been married forty two years, so I must be doin' somethin' right."

"Pert near everything, Doll," Hank grinned at her. "Pert near everything."

"Well, I'm a mediocre cook at best," Heather confessed to Dolly before looking up at Jake and joking, "So, I guess we're doomed."

"Nah. Just keep the peanut butter cookies coming, babe," he teased, grinning and winking at her, "And we'll be fine."

Giggling, Heather exchanged smiles with Dolly and Hank. 'I'm Heather," she introduced herself. "And this is Jake," she added, holding up their joined hands.

"Good to meet ya, Heather and Jake," Hank said, offering his hand to Jake. "Now you must've been here before, if EJ Green's your grandfather. And, wasn't your dad the mayor?"

"Dad's still mayor," Jake answered, "And yeah, Gramps used to bring my brother and me up here couple times a year," he confirmed.

"Well, let's not stand around out here, talkin'," Dolly complained then. "You two just flew up from Kansas," she reminded, clicking her tongue. "You must be starving," Dolly decided then, slipping her arm through Hank's before leading the way to the diner's front door. Looking back over her shoulder, she caught Jake kissing Heather one more time before the two of them hurried to catch up. "So," Dolly asked as Hank held the door open for them all, "Newlyweds?"

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Jake slid into the driver's seat of the Roadrunner and pulled the door closed behind him. Looking down, he examined the cover of his grandfather's army manual by the weak light of the moon. He considered again the job he'd asked for and, amazingly, his father had given him. Jake had had important assignments over the nearly ten years he'd worked for the DEA, but he realized that none of those jobs were nearly as consequential as this one. He promised himself that he would put together and lead a security force that Jericho and Johnston could be proud of. Sighing, Jake gently set the book on the passenger's seat.

Starting the car, he eased it out of the parking space on Main Street, his thoughts turning to Heather. His mother's statement had started him worrying, though he'd managed to push his concern off to the back of his mind until Johnston had repeated Gail's advice and admonished him to apologize. He'd wanted to ask for more details, but hadn't been able to work up the courage, and instead had bid his father good night and left his office. He took a deep breath, determined to find Heather and fix whatever was wrong.

He drove down the street slowly. Passing the church, Jake spotted a wobbly Emily Sullivan entering the through the main door. He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself; he had a fair amount of experience with Emily in all stages of inebriation, and it was quite obvious to him that she was plastered. "That's gonna be a bitch of headache come morning, Em," he muttered, coming to a perfunctory stop at the corner before bearing left onto the circle.

Without really paying attention, Jake made his way home, turning left at Seventh Street and then right onto Chestnut. Parking in the driveway behind 'Charlotte', he grabbed the Ranger Handbook off the seat beside him and, after locking the Roadrunner, went into the house through the front door.

The house was quiet and deserted, a first as far as Jake was concerned, certainly since he and Heather had moved in. The six of them - seven, now that the guest room had been loaned to Dhuwalia - had been living practically on top of one another, irritating each other more than occasionally as they'd tried to make the big experiment in Green family togetherness work. But Eric was gone now, Jake remembered, and his parents were still downtown. He left his grandfather's book on a table in the hallway and then wandered through the rooms on the first floor, finding no one and nothing but the ancient cast iron dutch oven - salvaged from the collection of obsolete but still useful items that had piled up at the ranch over the years - warming over the low fire in the living room fireplace.

Frowning, Jake climbed the stairs. The door to the bathroom was open, the room empty. Moving down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Heather, he pushed the door open and peeked inside, but she wasn't there. There was a soft light - candlelight, he guessed - bleeding out from beneath Eric's and April's door, and Jake listened for a long moment, straining to hear if Heather and April were inside, talking, but there wasn't a sound. He considered knocking and then decided against it, not wanting to disturb his sister-in-law if he could avoid it.

Growing concerned, Jake jogged back down the staircase and set about making a more thorough search of the first floor, hoping he might find a note or some other indication as to his wife's location. Starting in the kitchen, he walked around the perimeter of the room quickly, and reaching the backdoor pushed the curtain out of the way in order to check the yard. There was a lantern, burning low, sitting on the porch deck and, letting out the breath he'd been holding, he opened the door and stepped outside.

"There you are," Jake declared, relief evident in his voice.

"Here I am," Heather confirmed tiredly. Head down, she was sitting sideways on the old porch swing, her knees bent and her feet planted in front of her, taking up most of the seat.

Johnston had installed the swing some twenty-five years before as a belated Mother's Day gift for Gail who'd wanted somewhere to sit and watch her boys play in the backyard, especially on summer nights. Jake recalled that weekend project, taking turns with Eric retrieving tools for their father, or handing him screws and washers, or 'helping' him read the level. Gail, returning home from a visit with her sister in Rogue River, had been truly surprised and delighted with the present, hugging and kissing the three of them, though Jake and Eric had protested this vehemently, embarrassed that Stanley Richmond who'd come over to play had witnessed this display of affection. Gail had laughed at them, and then made all three boys blush by hugging Stanley as well. In the end, it wasn't too long before the backyard tree fort lost its appeal, and Jake didn't know that his mother had actually gotten very many of her desired summer evenings in the backyard, but the porch swing had remained, a place to retreat to for anyone in need of a quiet moment.

Jake recalled, too, sitting out on the porch swing with his mother the night before he'd married Heather. Nearly midnight, it had still been sweltering, and unable to sleep, the two of them had ended up on the back porch, splitting what they had modestly pronounced to be the world's largest ice cream sundae. The influx of Lisinski kin had forced Jake out of the ranch house and back to his parents' for his last week of bachelorhood, while Grandpa Green played host to two of Heather's brothers and their families. Home from the rehearsal dinner, Johnston had gone straight to bed, Gail grumbling that he'd never had trouble sleeping in the heat, not since his three tours in Vietnam. As they worked through the layers of ice cream, bananas, fudge and marshmallow sauce, Gail had alternated between complaining that she wasn't going to fit into her dress after their dessert, and offering advice on marriage and the wedding ceremony. "Don't lock your knees when you're standing up in front at the church, or you'll pass out," she'd reminded. "And, never go to bed angry," his mother had continued, drawing a snort of laughter from Jake; it was the piece of advice he'd heard most often during their engagement. But then Gail had smiled at him warmly and, spooning up another mouthful of ice cream, said, "Make sure you tell Heather that you love her, as often as you can. It's fine to know it, but it's better to hear it."

Gazing at Heather now, calmed just by the sight of her safe and sound, he couldn't help but imagine sitting here with her some evening in the not too distant future, watching their child play in the backyard. He'd spotted an old tricycle in the garage rafters the week before, and Johnston had never been able to bring himself to take down the tree fort. Even the tire swing still hung from the giant oak's sturdiest limb, always ready for a young visitor to the Green house.

"You're home finally," she observed, glancing up at him for only a second before returning her attention to the open palm of her right hand. Jake, his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, watched silently as she played with her engagement and wedding rings, weighing and bouncing them on her hand before finally slipping them back on. "We ate without you," Heather informed him, clearing her throat. She looked up again, and this time he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. "Didn't really know when you'd be back," she sniffed.

"Heather," Jake murmured, his stomach starting to churn. He shook his head, dismissing his memories as he took a step toward the swing. Heather, however, slid her feet forward another few inches, ensuring that there wasn't room for him to sit, and he was forced to settle for wrapping his fingers around the swing's chain, causing it to sway slightly. "I'm sorry," he sighed, deciding to take his father's advice. "I asked Clyde Davis to stop by and tell you that everything was okay."

She nodded, not looking at him. "He did. So did Eric," she said, practically hissing his brother's name. "He said you were helping to blow up the bridge," Heather muttered, shaking her head softly. "Funny, you didn't mention that part when you told me about Ravenwood, and staying inside, and all that," she accused, meeting Jake's gaze at last.

"I didn't lie to you," Jake defended himself, tightening his grip on the chain. "I - I just didn't tell you," he argued. "There have always been things I couldn't tell you, you know that."

Jake watched as Heather stiffened and her eyes grew wide. She started to speak and then stopped herself, mouth hanging open. Taking a deep breath, she began again. "First of all, I didn't accuse you of lying. You're absolutely right, you didn't. What I said was that you didn't tell me what you were planning to do," Heather corrected angrily, wiping the back of her hand across one eye. "Because apparently you don't think there's any reason I'd want to know - to be prepared for the fact - that my husband was ready to commit suicide to - to - I don't even know why anymore."

"Babe -" Jake protested, letting go of the swing's chain.

"No!" Heather declared, glaring at him. "I have more to say," she decided, her chin jutting defiantly. "This - this isn't your job anymore, Jake. You don't get to keep me in the dark for 'operational security', or my safety, or any of the other reasons I've accepted these last four years."

"Okay," Jake acknowledged quietly. He took a step forward, and then turned, surprising Heather by sitting down on the swing, trapping her feet beneath his leg. He let out a long breath then, finally glancing at her sideways. "You're right. I should've told you what was going on. But I didn't want you to worry," he explained.

"Yeah, why worry today when I could just worry tomorrow while we were burying you in a shoebox, right?" She covered her face with her hands, muffling her words.

"Damn it," Jake swore under his breath. He'd been suspicious of her 'suicide' comment, but had still maintained hope that she hadn't heard about how things had gone down out at the bridge. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands. A wave of fear and dread washed over him, similar to what he'd experienced standing there on the bridge with the detonator in his hand, prepared to use it, and facing the swaggering, belligerent Ravenwood commander. Jake had fought his body's response - rubbery legs and a strong urge to throw up - to the situation then, and he fought it now. Now was worse, he decided, sucking air in through his teeth. He could feel Heather pulling away from him and he didn't know how to stop her.

"I did get that right, didn't I?" she asked quietly, pursing her lips. "Bill seemed to enjoy recounting the Jonah Prowse parts especially," Heather informed him, shaking her head. "He came by to give your Dad a report. It was very thorough," she muttered.

"I'm sorry," he murmured after an uncomfortable pause. Their gazes were locked, and Jake could see both fatigue and betrayal in her eyes. Frowning, Heather looked down at her hand and began to fiddle with her rings again, though she didn't take them off her finger this time. "I'm sorry," Jake repeated. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything that was going on," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't see any reason for you to sit back here, worried all day. And, I promise you, I didn't intend for things to turn out the way they did."

Heather looked up at that, gaping. "What does that mean?" she demanded, wrenching one foot out from under Jake's leg, kicking him in the process. "That you intended to blow yourself up?" she grumbled, glaring at him as he lifted himself up so she could extract her other foot.

Jake dropped back onto the seat, clenching his fists in frustration. "No!" he barked, returning her hard stare. He knew she was deliberately misunderstanding him, and it took all his willpower to keep from shaking her for it. But, he'd never raised a hand to Heather - to any woman - and he wasn't going to start now. "I didn't plan to be out on that bridge at all when Ravenwood came back," he explained through gritted teeth. "I was tryin' to finish up the job, and suddenly they were there, and - and then I was the only one on the bridge." Jake took a deep breath, deciding against mentioning that he'd ordered most of the volunteers off the bridge, or that the idea to demolish the bridge had originated with him. "Somebody had to do it. It just ended up being me."

Frowning, Heather twisted around so that she was seated facing forward, pressed into the corner of the swing as far from Jake as possible, the toes of her sneakers dragging on the porch as they swayed gently back and forth. "I'm sorry, too," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry that the world changed. I'm sorry you think I can't handle these things, and that I have to be protected. I'm sorry that I need to depend on you as much as I do, and I'm sorry that I can't -"

"So now I'm not dependable," Jake interrupted, allowing a harsh chuckle. "Thanks, babe," he muttered, slumping in his seat. "You really know how to make a guy feel loved," he told her, clenching his jaw and looking away.

"I do love you, Jake, but I need to know that you're in this for the long haul," Heather retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Eric up and leaves April for a - a barmaid, and you decide to blow up a bridge and maybe yourself in the process. What am I supposed to think?" she demanded, risking a glance in his direction.

Jake groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face. Silently, he cursed his brother and then decided that he wouldn't be tarred with that brush. "What happened with Eric and April has nothing to do with us," he insisted, meeting Heather's eye. "I'm not going anywhere." He studied her for a long moment, frowning when she shivered under his gaze. "It's cold," he muttered. "You shouldn't be out here."

"I'm fine," she protested, smoothing his old Jericho High Varsity Baseball sweatshirt - the one she'd found in the basement just after the bombs - over her stomach. Heather had been stealing his shirts for a couple of weeks now, grumbling that none of her own clothes fit. Jake couldn't help but feel a certain amount of relief at the fact that she was still borrowing from his dresser.

"And, don't change the subject," Heather accused, pressing her hand to her mouth. "We're having a baby, Jake," she said a few seconds later. "And, I can't do that without you, not the way things are now. Maybe before, but not now. I need to know you're here," she sighed. "Today. Next week. Ten years from now," she listed. "I need to know I can count on you, that I can depend on you," Heather told him again, pushing herself to her feet.

She faced Jake, her lips pressed together and her eyes suspiciously bright. "Right now it doesn't feel like I can," she murmured, her face crumpling. Weeping softly, Heather turned away from him bury her face in her hands.

Scrambling to his feet, Jake laid a tentative hand on her back, unsure of his reception. Heather stiffened, and he had to fight the impulse to pull away. Feeling helpless, he watched her back, knowing that she was fighting to shore up her defenses, and this time those defenses were against him. A quiet, unintentional "Heather," escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice shaking. Heather took a step and a half away from him, putting herself out of his reach. "I think - I need to be alone for a little while," she told him, looking back over her shoulder. Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned, asking, "If that's okay?"

Grinding his teeth, Jake nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

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

For the record, the Rock Springs - Sweetwater County Airport exists, but Dolly Doolittle's is all from my imagination.

Different Circumstances: Part 9D of ?
by Marzee Doats

Author's Note: This part is really all about April. Jake and Heather are definitely here, but ultimately this was April's chance to tell her story. I always thought it was weird that April didn't have family. Now, I realize that is probably just TV production budgets and a secondary character, but that also left her largely without a background, and I do abhor a backgroundless character! I've filled a lot in here, and I hope you will all indulge me as I offer one explanation of April, and April with Eric.

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

Sunday, November 11, five years before the bombs

It was nearly seven o'clock when Jake pulled his car to a stop in front of his parents' house. They had had a great time at Dolly Doolittle's - better than he'd anticipated when Heather had accepted the Doolittles' invitation to join them - and afterwards they had enjoyed a leisurely walk back to the airport, Heather stopping a number of times to take pictures of the diner's signs. The flight home to Jericho had been uneventful. Jake had teased Heather, telling her that she should feel free to read, but she'd only shaken her head, laughing at him. By that time it had already been growing dark, and so they'd spent the trip back much as they had spent the one out, talking about nothing in particular, content in each other's company.

"We really don't have to go in," he told Heather, turning the engine off. "I can always call and say we're too tired," Jake assured her, smiling at her softly. They were already an hour late for dinner, and he'd caught her stifling a yawn more than once since they'd landed at Jericho Airfield. "They'd understand," he said, studying her carefully in the light thrown off by the streetlamp.

"I like dinner with your family," Heather reminded, returning his smile. "Having dinner with your family reminds me of having dinner with my family," she admitted, covering her mouth when she yawned again. "I'll be fine if I have something to drink and eat," she promised, chuckling softly. "That always perks me right up."

"Okay," Jake agreed, leaning over to kiss Heather.

The front door was unlocked and the hall light was on, but surprisingly, the living and dining rooms were deserted. Her hand in his, Jake guided Heather through the house and into the kitchen. From there, they could see that the backyard was ablaze in the light cast by tiki torches and strings of white lights. They left everything they'd brought in - Heather's backpack and a small cardboard box containing two pies from Dolly's - on the kitchen table and then Jake led her to the backdoor. "This is weird," he muttered, opening the door. They stepped outside, and he called out, "Hello!"

"There you two are," Gail declared, standing up from the picnic table and crossing the patio to meet them at the bottom of the porch steps. "We were starting to worry," she sighed, hugging Jake and then Heather.

"It's a two and a half hour flight," Jake reminded his mother. "You knew we'd be late." Still holding onto Heather's hand, he looked around the backyard, greeting everyone else. April was sitting sideways on a bench at the picnic table, and Grandpa Green, Johnston, and Eric were clustered around the grill, Grandpa and Eric both giving advice which Johnston ignored.

"Hey, Jake," Eric called back, raising his beer bottle in acknowledgment.

"We're barbequing tonight," Gail explained unnecessarily. She smiled at Heather and took her arm, pulling her away from Jake and towards the table. "Johnston bought a new grill at the Labor Day sale at Home Depot, and he wanted to get one more use out of it this year."

"I can cook for half the town on this beauty," Johnston added over his shoulder. "We've got hamburgers and chicken going," he told them. "Corn too."

"Just remember to give me a five minute warning so we can pull the rest out of the fridge," Gail replied as she and Heather seated themselves at the picnic table. "Jake," she added, catching her son before he could sit down next to Heather. "Drinks are inside."

Stopping with one knee on the bench, one hand on Heather's shoulder, Jake met his mother's gaze with a questioning look. She smiled at him and then shooed him away with a wave of the hand. April, to Heather's left, chuckled at his affronted expression. "Okay," he muttered, conceding defeat. Squeezing Heather's shoulder, Jake looked to his mother, guessing, "We've probably got a little bit of everything?"

Gail and April each had soda cans in front of them, as well as mugs of something that was giving off steam. April held up her mug, hands wrapped around it for warmth, explaining, "We made hot cider."

"Because it's forty degrees out, and we're barbequing," Gail muttered quietly, rolling her eyes. "There's still some on the stove if you'd like it."

Tilting her head back to look up at Jake, Heather smiled at him. "Any kind of pop sounds good, and the cider sounds great."

"Pop?" April questioned, chuckling.

Heather blushed, but defended herself. "I'm from upstate New York. We say 'pop'."

"Today you were tellin' everyone that you were from Jericho, Kansas," Jake reminded, kissing her gently before finally taking a step back.

"Well, I'm from here, too," she grinned, watching him leave over her shoulder.

"One pop and one apple cider, comin' up," he promised, returning her grin.

Exchanging amused looks with her mother-in-law, April turned her attention to Heather, studying her from behind her mug for a long moment. "Sooo," she crooned, "I'm guessing you two had a nice day?"

"We had a great day," Heather confirmed, smiling widely. "The flight was fun," she continued, shrugging. "Little bit of a new side of Jake, which was interesting," she sighed, not really wanting to say any more on that particular subject. She wrapped her arms around herself then, both to ward off the chill and to, in a way, hold in her memories of the day. "Dolly Doolittle's was absolutely adorable," Heather continued, glancing at Gail. "We brought home a couple of pies for dessert. I mean, if you don't have anything planned already. Please don't feel like -"

"That sounds lovely," Gail assured her, interrupting. "It's very thoughtful, thank you." She smiled at the young woman who seemed to fit in with their family like she'd always been there. More importantly, Gail recognized, Heather obviously cared deeply for Jake, though talking about it with them for too long seemed to make her nervous. Taking pity on this girl who grew dearer to her every time they were together, Gail tried to lighten the subject some. "The trips up to Rock Springs were usually 'boys only', but I've eaten at Dolly's once or twice," she admitted. "Do they still have all the cute signs?"

"Yes!" Heather laughed. "And believe it or not, we had our picture taken in front of the sign at the diner by none other than Dolly Doolittle's husband, Hank." She looked over her shoulder then, calling to Grandpa Green. "Gramps," she grinned at him as he walked toward her. "We're supposed to tell you 'hello' from Dolly and Hank Doolittle. You sold 'em horses," she added after a few seconds has passed and he hadn't responded.

"Probably twenty or more, over the years," Gramps nodded. "Hank Doolittle's a damn good guy," he declared then. "Honest and fair as the day is long. I've always liked dealing with him. And, his Dolly's a sweetheart, and she sure can cook, too. If I could pick my last meal, I'd have to say, I'd want it to be Dolly's Yankee pot roast."

"Huevos Rancheros," Eric argued, wandering over from the grill. He sat down behind April on the bench, putting his arm around her. "That was always my favorite at Dolly's," he clarified, chuckling at April who insisted on having one sip of his beer.

Jake, returning with Heather's drinks and a beer for himself, placed everything on the table in front of her. "Here's your pop," he teased before pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I had the chicken fried steak," he added with a glance in his grandfather's direction before seating himself next to Heather. "Still about the best there is."

"The turkey dinner," Johnston argued, turning around, spatula in hand. "Nothin' on this earth beats Dolly's stuffing."

"So, what'd you have, sweetheart?" Grandpa asked, grinning at Heather. He couldn't help but think that she and Jake made quite the picture, cuddled together on the picnic bench.

"Loaded chili with a slab of cornbread," she replied, smiling. "They actually whip the honey into the butter for the cornbread," Heather explained, offering a contented sigh. "That's what sold me on the chili, but then Hank Doolittle dared me to try it, and I always have a hard time saying no to a challenge."

"And finally we have a satisfactory answer to the question 'why is Heather dating Jake?'" Eric joked, grinning at her over the top of April's head.

Everyone laughed at that, though Jake glared at his brother half-heartedly and Gail muttered a scolding, "Really, Eric," before giving into her chuckle.

"The real answer is that I have many, many reasons," Heather assured Eric with a grin. "Though the sheer challenge of it all is in there somewhere," she teased, twisting around to press a quick kiss to Jake's mouth.

Heather started to turn back but he stopped her, cupping her chin and kissing her gently. "She won the bet," he told Eric, though his eyes never left hers. "Hank Doolittle had to buy us lunch, and leave a pretty big tip, 'cause his granddaughter was our waitress."

"You won lunch off of Hank Doolittle?" Grandpa chortled, obviously delighted. "Hot damn! Hank won't cheat ya, but I've never known him to take a losin' bet, either." He grabbed Heather's hand then, dragging her to her feet and pulling her into a bear hug. Placing a smacking kiss on her forehead, Grandpa declared. "Good job, darlin'!"

"Gramps!" Jake grumbled, scrambling to stand up.

Giggling softly, Heather stepped out of Grandpa's embrace and back into Jake's arms. "Thank you. I was pretty proud of myself," she grinned. "Those last four bites, I wasn't sure I was gonna make it," she admitted, twining her fingers with Jake's. Glancing at Gail and then April, Heather explained, "They weren't lying when they said five-alarm on the menu. Really big bowl," she added, letting go of Jake's hand in order to estimate the dish's size with her hands.

"It was impressive," Jake confirmed, kissing Heather's temple.

"Well, congratulations on your win," Gail chuckled, shaking her head. "So, Johnston Green," she continued, glancing at her husband. "Where are we? What are the chances we'll be eating tonight?" she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest.

Turning his head, Johnston met Gail's gaze with an insulted expression. "It's a new grill, takes time to season, get it all adjusted," he defended. "And, it's coming. The chicken's still a little pink though." He looked at Heather, who was once again seated on the picnic bench and wrapped in Jake's arms. "You don't want pink chicken, do you?" he demanded.

"Uh, no," Heather confirmed. "I'm definitely all for cooked food."

"And, what about you, April?" Johnston continued, turning to face his daughter-in-law. "As our resident medical expert -"

"Cook the chicken," she interrupted, laughing.

"Give it up, Johnston," Gail complained. "None of us is going to wrestle anything off your precious grill before it's done."

Eric and Grandpa both tried - rather unsuccessfully - to appear nonchalant as they worked their way back to the barbeque. "Don't even think about it, Eric," Johnston grumbled, a split second before Eric's hand touched the tongs, hanging on the side of the unit. "That goes for you, too, Dad."

"Do me a favor?" Heather asked softly, bringing her hand up to cup the side of Jake's face. "Can you go get my camera?"

"Why?" Jake muttered, his tone suspicious, kissing her ear.

Heather looked down the bench at April, who met her gaze with a smirk and obvious interest. Glancing across the table, she caught Gail's eye. Jake's mother was smiling at them indulgently, her frustration over their dinner's tardiness apparently at bay. Pulling away from Jake just enough to turn her head, Heather smiled sweetly. "You Mom and April want to see the pictures of Dolly Doolittle's and all the signs."

"Especially since I'm the one member of this family who's never been to Dolly Doolittle's," April interjected. She looked at her mother-in-law. "You've been, right?"

"Once or twice, umpteen million years ago," Gail shrugged. "The signs are really quite adorable, and the food is wonderful. Her shepherd's pie was as good as my grandmother's."

April groaned, shaking her head. "I'm booking a ticket on your next trip to Rock Springs," she informed Jake.

"A double date," Heather declared, watching Jake as he tried not to smile at her. "It'll be fun," she added, glancing between him and April. "The four of us can all go."

"Sure," Jake shrugged, trying to draw Heather back into his arms, but she resisted.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then to the corner of his mouth, she reminded, "My camera? Please?"

"So, what do I get outta this deal?" Jake demanded with a put upon sigh.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and then Heather wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a soft, slow kiss to his lips. Finally, she pulled back a few inches, her nose wrinkling adorably as she whispered, "Good enough?"

"Good enough," Jake confirmed, kissing her on the forehead before struggling to his feet.

"You two are incorrigible!" April complained, watching Jake mount the porch steps, an obvious spring in his step. "Eric and I aren't as bad as you two," she continued, rolling her eyes. "And we at least have the 'newlywed' excuse."

"Jealous?" Heather giggled, her eyes widening. Laughing harder, she hid behind her hands for a moment, grateful that there was no way for the Greens to know that she and Jake had been mistaken for newlyweds not once, but twice, that afternoon. She took a calming breath and then called out, "Eric! C'mere! April's feeling neglected," she added, another giggle escaping her. "She needs a big smooch."

Laughing, Eric sauntered toward the table. "Oh, she does, does she?" he asked, stepping behind his wife and dropping his hands on her shoulders. He looked down at April who tilted her head back, pressing it against his stomach, to look up at him. Eric grinned at her wolfishly. "Well if you insist," he teased.

"Heather's idea," April giggled, squirming slightly as Eric's mouth descended upon hers. "Not a bad one though," she admitted with a grin when he raised his head. She found his hand, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him down to sit beside her on the bench.

Smiling, Gail refrained from commenting on their antics. "Heather," she began, drawing the younger woman's attention from Eric and April. "I've been asked to let you know that Miss Sally Anne Taylor was born on Wednesday night. Six pounds, six ounces, nineteen inches long, and home since Friday," she reported. "Johnston and I took a gift over this afternoon, and I have to say she's a little beauty."

"Aww," Heather grinned, "Woody's a big brother!"

"That he is," Gail agreed. "But not completely happy about it, I don't think," she explained, frowning sympathetically. "I think that's why Margaret asked me to tell you. She's hoping you'll come see them, and she thinks Woody would love to see you. From what she said," Gail chuckled, "That little boy has a bit of a crush on you."

"Yeah," Heather laughed, "And the feeling's mutual. I have to admit it," she continued, affecting a mock serious tone, "I've fallen madly in love with a two year old."

At loose ends, Grandpa Green had wandered back toward the house, meeting Jake on the porch steps just as Heather's words reached them from across the yard. He offered his grandson a thoughtful smile. "I was kinda hopin' for a bigger announcement when I heard the beginning of that sentence," he murmured, studying Jake closely.

"Gramps -"

Holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, Grandpa assured, "That's not a push, Jake. Nobody's pushing," he added, grinning to himself as he thought of Gail and her regular protests that she was 'not pushing'. "I'm just gettin' sentimental in my old age," Grandpa chuckled, glad to see the suspicion fade from his grandson's expression. "I'd like to see you settled, Jake, that's all," he sighed. "Not that it'd be 'settling' with Heather," he murmured, glancing back over his shoulder at the subject of their conversation. Facing Jake again, Grandpa smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Just somethin' to keep in the back of your mind."

Lips pressed tightly together, Jake allowed a quick nod. "Sure, Grandpa," he mumbled. He started to move past his grandfather, but then stopped, looking at him sideways. "I - I know all that. Everything you said, and I am thinking about it. Sometimes, it's all I'm thinkin' about," he admitted, watching his feet. "That's all."

"Good," Grandpa grinned. "Very good."

"I like the name Sally," Heather told Gail. "It's old-fashioned, and it goes well with Woody," she added, smiling up at Jake when she felt his hand on her shoulder. He placed her camera in front of her, and then handed her sweater to her, earning himself an even wider smile. "Thank you," she whispered before returning her attention to his mother. "I like the more traditional names," Heather sighed. "So says the girl with the totally seventies name!" she joked, rolling her eyes.

"Your name is a lovely name for a lovely young woman," Gail declared, smiling and then reaching across the table to lay her hand over Heather's, squeezing it before withdrawing.

Along with April and Eric, she watched without commenting as Jake helped Heather slip out of her jacket, and then back into it after she'd pulled her sweater on over her head. "There you go," he said, trailing his hand across Heather's back as he moved around her to take a seat.

Gail exchanged an amused look with April, and then reached for the camera. "So, may I have a look?"

"Oh, yes! Of course!" Heather responded, reluctantly dragging her gaze away from Jake. "Um, the first few pictures are from school - we're doing plant growth experiments. Anyway, the sign pictures are a ways in."

"Sorry to interrupt," Johnston said, clearing his throat, "But, five minute warning. Except," he continued, his expression turning sheepish, "Everything's ready now."

"Johnston!" Gail declared, setting the camera down and throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Okay," she decided, climbing to her feet. "Pull it all off, and everyone else inside," she ordered, releasing an annoyed sigh. "Now!"

Scrambling to their feet, those in the younger generation were forced to muffle their natural inclination towards laughter, not that this was at all difficult once they'd each gotten a good look at Gail. Heather was just pleased that Jake's mother had finally stopped treating her as a guest, and now included her as one of the 'gang'. Three steps from the table, Jake caught her hand in his own, giving it a quick squeeze. "Just do whatever she says," he advised in a whisper, kissing the shell of her ear.

Inside, Gail handed a pile of plates, napkins and cutlery to Eric before moving to the refrigerator to pull out potato and macaroni salads, a relish tray, and every condiment anyone might possibly consider putting on chicken or a burger, distributing these items between April, Heather, Grandpa and Jake. "Buns!" she realized, looking around the kitchen to see what she'd missed. She grabbed the package from the counter and handed them to Heather, giving her a distracted smile.

"Pumpkin!" Grandpa Green crowed happily, looking into one of the pie boxes. He peeked into the other box, guessing, "And, apple?" Heather nodded, and smiling, Grandpa picked up the bowl of potato salad he'd set down on the table. "Well, that will be a treat," he decided, following April out the back door.

"Oh, Jake, honey," Gail sighed, surveying the table. "I forgot the cheese, so if you want it for your burger..."

"I'll get it," he replied, unable to resist the opportunity to brush his fingers over Heather's back as he stepped around her.

"The butter, too," Johnston requested, placing separate plates of hamburger patties and barbequed chicken in the center of the table. "For the corn," he explained, turning back to retrieve it from the grill.

"That is spoiled," April insisted a few seconds later, seating herself on the bench next to Heather who was in the process of making up two hamburger buns. Shaking her head, she groaned. "Seriously."

Frowning, Heather dipped her pinky into the mayonnaise jar and tasted it. "It's fine."

"Not that," April snorted, rolling her eyes. "That," she continued, pointing at one of the hamburger buns. "Mayonnaise and mustard on the bottom bun, and just mustard on the top? Tomato touching only the mustard, never the mayo? That's for Jake," she declared, chuckling. Glancing back at the house, April spotted her brother-in-law coming back toward them. "Speak of the devil," she muttered.

Jake, sliding into his seat beside Heather, spotted the hamburger bun she'd made up for him, and grinned at her. "Thanks, Babe," he told her, reaching for the plate. He speared a hamburger patty with his fork and dropped it on top of the bun before adding a piece of cheese over it. "Just the way I like it," he confirmed quietly, finding her hand beneath the table and squeezing her fingers. April, overhearing this, groaned.

It took a few minutes to get everything passed around, and everyone dished up. It was the sort of hustle and bustle that Heather had grown up in, and that she loved. Once they were all settled, Grandpa Green said grace, and finally they were ready to dig in. "Just one question," Eric said as the rest of the family took their first bites. "It's like forty degrees out here. Why didn't we just take the meat inside instead of hauling all this stuff out here?"

His mother stared at him, open-mouthed, completely incapable of answering, and Johnston's sheepish expression returned. It fell, somehow, to Grandpa to answer. "Ambience, Eric," he explained, patting Gail on the arm. "We wanted some ambience."

"Right," Eric muttered. "Just never knew ambience was quite this bracing," he added, scooting over on the bench to close the two inch gap that separated him from April, hoping to share some of her body heat.

"It's not that cold," Johnston protested. He watched as Jake followed his brother's example and snuggled up to Heather. "It's not!"

"Is this the part where you tell us all about walking five miles to school in the snow, uphill both ways?" Jake joked, drawing chuckles from around the table.

"Eat your dinner," Johnston grumbled, taking a bite of his chicken.

They all followed his edict, falling mostly silent as they all devoted their attention to the meal. Jake and Grandpa had already cleaned their plates and were dishing up seconds for themselves when April slapped the table with her hand. "I've got it!" she declared, looking sideways at Jake and Heather. "Cheyenne Frontier Days. The four of us should go. You can fly us there," she continued, gesturing at Jake, "And, it'll be a great time."

"What's Frontier Days?" Heather asked, setting her finished corn cob down on her plate. "Some sort of historical reenactment?" she guessed.

"Nah," Jake corrected, sitting back on the bench to wrap his arm around her waist. "It's a rodeo. 'The Daddy Of 'Em All'," he quoted.

Heather laughed, throwing April an amused look. "You a big rodeo fan, April?"

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it," April smiled in return. "And, yeah, I happen to like rodeos. My Dad's a large animal vet. Bounced back and forth between the racetrack and the rodeo circuit," she explained, shrugging. "My Mom wouldn't let him take us to the track, which turned out to be a really good call on her part," April snorted. "But she was okay with the rodeo."

She closed her eyes then, shaking her head. "My father," she muttered, turning to face Heather. "You gotta understand, this is the man who called to congratulate me on getting into med school, and then spent most of the rest of the call making sure I understood that getting into med school isn't nearly as hard as getting into vet school." She let out a deep sigh, frowning softly. "And, by the way," she continued. "He really couldn't be of any help financially, but yeah, he was sure proud."

This was obviously not a new story to the Greens, Heather decided, glancing across the table at Johnston, Gail and Grandpa, all of whom wore expressions that were both sympathetic and angry. Jake, his plate of seconds abandoned, had tightened his grip on her, and Eric, she noticed, had also wrapped an arm around April. Heather, not knowing what else to do, forced a wan smile and turned to face the other woman. "April, I -"

"I should know better than to even think about my father, let alone talk about him. Ever," she interrupted, taking a swipe at her watery eyes with the back of her hand. "And, hey, I have a great stepfather, who did help out with medical school. He's wonderful to my Mom, and to my sisters and me," she sighed, "And, I really do still like the rodeo."

"Your father's an idiot," Eric muttered, pressing a series of kisses along her hairline.

"My father's an ass," April corrected with an exasperated chuckle, wiping her eyes again. "And, it really sucks that it still bothers me, because I'm sure none of this bothers him. Probably never has," she murmured. "Okay," she declared a few seconds later, taking a deep breath and the letting it out. She looked around the table, offering them each a shaky smile. "I really do apologize."

Gail reached across the table, over the piles of food which they'd hardly made a dent in despite their hunger, and took one of April's hands into both of her own. "Sweetheart -"

"You know what, Doctor Moneybags," Jake interjected, throwing his mother an apologetic look. "You spring for the hotel rooms - and remember, the prices pretty much quintuple for Frontier Days - and I'll cover flight costs."

This prompted chuckles all around the table, effectively breaking the tension. Gail squeezed April's hand and then let go, leaning back into Johnston's embrace. April, actually allowing a hint of a real smile, shook her head. "Hate to disillusion you, Jake," she sighed, "But I'm about the farthest thing from 'Doctor Moneybags'."

"You're gonna be done with your residency in June, right?" Jake asked, stealing a stray olive off of Heather's plate.

"And opening a Park Street practice in Jericho, Kansas, not a Park Avenue practice in New York City," April reminded, rolling her eyes. "No offense to her mayors, past and present," she added with a glance at Johnston and Grandpa, "But this is Jericho, and here it's pretty much paltry Medicaid reimbursement rates, family farmers on expensive individual policies who go into debt if anything major happens, and the S&A Mining Company health plan, which rumor has it, sucks."

"That's not just a rumor," Grandpa muttered, drawing a protest from Johnston that he waved off. "They're the town's biggest employer, have been for nearly thirty years," he reminded. "They could do a better job of providing benefits to their employees."

Frowning, Jake declared, "This is awful!"

Johnston shook his head, glancing between Jake and his father. "The last thing I'm gonna do is make excuses for Hugh Stevens and Gray Anderson, but it's more complex than all that. They've had to cut hours for most of the employees and -"

"Not the mine, Dad," Jake interrupted. "Eric! Here he was, planning to become a househusband and let April support him in the manner to which he was hoping to become accustomed - at least until it's time for him to run for mayor - and it turns out she can't!"

"Well, you know, househusband's always been my major career goal," Eric returned sarcastically, tightening the arm he had around April.

"Think of all the golf you aren't gonna get to play now," Jake commiserated, almost managing to suppress a snicker. April was actually grinning, and that was all he'd been after initially, but now he was having fun. "Nine holes minimum, every day, at least until you had kids, right?"

Everyone laughed at that, including April. "Who are we kidding?" she asked, twisting around to press a kiss to Eric's jaw. "He'd find a way to take the baby on the golf cart. Just not in the winter or if it's raining," she scolded, waving a finger at him.

"So, I get to be a househusband then?" Eric inquired, affecting a thoughtful expression. "I could really make this work for me," he joked.

"Uh, no," April laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"But, oh! You could volunteer at school," Heather threw in, surprising herself a little. She and Jake had spent three evenings with April and Eric over the preceding two weeks, and while she knew him better now, she wasn't entirely sure they were quite at the mocking level yet. However, April was looking better and Eric was playing along, so Heather decided to push it. "A good 'Room Mom' is worth her - or his - weight in gold," she teased. "I'd love to have you. I've got evil Karen Harper this year."

Eric allowed a sympathetic groan. "Ouch," he muttered.

"At least she didn't get herself elected to the school board," Johnston reminded.

"True," Heather said, acknowledging Jake's father with a relieved sigh and a smile. "But she's still evil," she informed Eric, toying with her fork and the remains of her potato salad. "So, can you make cupcakes?" she inquired brightly. "If you can make cupcakes, you're a shoe-in as Room Mom."

"Sure," he agreed, chuckling and rolling his eyes. "Just add eggs, water and oil to the mix, right?"

"That's all I do," Heather confirmed with a grin. "Really, as long as it's got frosting, there isn't a kid in the world that cares about the cake part."

"Well, that's pretty much all I care about, too," Jake offered, picking up his second ear of corn.

"I know," Heather, Gail and April said in unison, before laughing at themselves.

Sighing, April looked at Jake. "In spite of my reduced circumstances - and the unfortunate need for Eric to keep working - we will pay for hotel rooms in exchange for air transportation to Cheyenne. Deal?" she asked, holding out her hand, which Jake, after setting his corn cob down on his plate, accepted and shook, sealing their bargain.

"So, what exactly do we do at the rodeo?" Heather questioned.

"Watch and cheer for anything born at the Green ranch, of course," Grandpa answered. "Lots of our horses end up at Cheyenne," he boasted. "There's barrel racing, calf roping, steer wrestling, bronc and bull riding."

"Mutton busting," Eric added. "You forgot mutton busting, April's favorite event," he teased, tickling her side and earning himself an elbow in the stomach.

"They don't do mutton busting at Cheyenne," Johnston argued, taking a bite of macaroni salad.

"What's mutton busting?" Heather demanded looking between the men. "And why's it your favorite?" she asked, glancing sideways at April.

"It when they put little kids on sheep, and let 'em go. Like bull riding for six year olds," Jake explained. "The kid that holds on the longest wins a hundred bucks."

April confirmed his description with a nod. "And it's so darn cute," she grinned softly. "You'll love it."

Heather, however, didn't look convinced. "That doesn't sound safe," she frowned. "And, I saw Eight Seconds. Luke Perry was killed bull riding."

"Oh, right," April agreed, wrinkling her nose. "Poor Dylan."

"There's a bit of a difference between a three ton bull and your average ewe," Johnston added. "And, they put bicycle helmets on the kids to keep 'em safe. Besides, I still say they don't do mutton busting at Cheyenne."

"It'll be fun," April argued, reaching for a piece of chicken.

Gail nodded. "And, there's more than just the rodeo," she explained to Heather. "It's like a small state fair. Any carnival food you could possibly want, exhibition halls, all of that."

"That's right," April grinned, "There's shopping at the rodeo." Eric and Jake groaned in unison. "We can do that part without the guys," she chuckled, patting Eric on the arm.

"Hey, you can only buy what you can fit in the plane, and your pilot does not like to fly heavy," Jake warned with a snort.

Giggling, Heather leaned back against Jake, tilting her head to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Well, I'm definitely in. Sounds like fun."

"So, Heather," Eric began, a smirk developing on his face. "I'm betting Jake's never mentioned that he was junior rodeo champion."

Jake groaned, burying his face against Heather's shoulder. "We really don't need to talk about this," he muttered.

"Why not?" Johnston asked. "You were good."

"He was nine to twelve boys' calf roping champ for Fillmore County," Grandpa explained. "In what?" he asked, "Eighty six? Seven?"

"Eighty six," Jake mumbled against Heather's shoulder.

"That's so cool!" she declared, dislodging Jake as she twisted around, smiling at him.

"That's right," April teased, "We didn't get around to those pictures. They're cute," she grinned, remembering and reaching for Heather's camera.

"So were you a mutton buster too?" Heather asked Jake.

"I don't think they had that yet when I was a kid," he replied quickly.

"What are you talkin' about?" Grandpa demanded. "Soon as Jake knew there was a cash prize involved, it was all he could think about."

"I remember that," Gail chuckled. "He was six years old, and he tried practicing with the dog. But Sparky wouldn't stand for it, so he asked me if we could buy a sheep. Or maybe just rent one."

Everyone else laughed, while Jake dropped his head again, pressing his face into Heather's neck, breathing, "Just kill me now," against her skin.

"Aw, it's cute," she giggled softly, running her hand through his hair.

"You say so," Jake muttered, lifting his head and shaking it.

Heather caught his chin in her hand, holding him still so she could place a peck of a kiss on his lips. "I say so."

A natural lull fell over the group then as they all examined their plates and determined what they still had both the room for and the desire to eat. "Speaking of things at the rodeo," Eric said, pushing his plate away. "Bet none of you will ever guess what Jim Bailey was requesting a construction remodel permit for on Friday." He looked around the table, and while everyone appeared interested in the answer, no one offered a guess. Chuckling to himself, Eric explained, "He's putting in a mechanical bull. Apparently, little Mary has been trying to convince him it'll be good for business for months."

"Because mixing alcohol, testosterone, and a mechanical bull is always a good idea," April snorted distractedly, continuing to scroll through the pictures on Heather's camera. "I like the real rodeo, but a mechanical bull at Bailey's is a disaster waiting to happen. I foresee Friday nights full of broken arms and head injuries in my future," she predicted with a sigh.

"Well, we can't deny the permit request because some people are idiots," Johnston shrugged.

"And the Hippocratic Oath does say I have to treat idiots too," she returned.

Gail glanced around the table, taking in the mostly cleaned plates, and the satisfied expressions on everyone's faces. "Shall we take this inside? If you'll get the fire goin', Johnston," she instructed, "We can all thaw out and have some of that pie."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Grandpa agreed, slapping his hands down on the table and pushing himself to his feet.

"Hey," April said, looking up from the camera and back at Eric as he started to get up. "Can you hook this up to the TV so we can see better?" She handed the camera to him for his inspection.

"Sure," he answered after a few seconds, dropping back down on the bench next to her. "I think Mom's got the right cable 'round here somewhere. Why?"

"'Cause I think we all definitely want to see this picture," she declared, turning so she could offer Heather and Jake, both standing, a wicked grin.

"What picture?" Heather demanded, trying to reach over April for her camera. Eric held onto it for a few seconds, letting go only when April shrugged and grinned at him.

Heather forced the camera back into view mode, attempting to study the tiny view screen by the flickering tiki torchlight. She frowned and moved the camera closer to her face, finally able to distinguish something of the last photo Hank Doolittle had snapped. "Oh, no," she mumbled.

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Jake retreated to the den. On the way through the house he picked up his grandfather's army manual, hoping to distract himself with it, though he gave up on that idea within the first ten minutes, turning down the lantern Heather had left behind in her haste to get away from him. He was angry and frustrated and tired. Angry at Bill Kilroy, who Jake was sure had told Johnston and Heather an exaggerated and lurid version of the events on the bridge. Angry and frustrated with Heather for not trusting him, for not giving him a chance to explain, for deciding that she couldn't depend on him. Tired - exhausted - after having gone for more than two days on an hour's worth of sleep.

Throwing his head back, Jake closed his eyes, letting go of the book he still held. He heard the front door open and his parents come in. Dhuwalia was with them, and he was drunk, Jake guessed, not only because he kept referring to Gail, loudly, as 'Missus Jake's Mum', but also because he heard Johnston ask, "You're sure this guy saved my life?"

"I'm sure," Gail answered wearily. "Let's get him to the guestroom."

Jake listened without truly paying attention as his parents worked to get Dhuwalia upstairs, thankful for the quiet that descended over the first floor once their task was accomplished. A few minutes later, Gail came back down, going into the living room to check the fire and the dutch oven. She didn't come into the den, and he didn't go out, dreading the questions he knew she would have for him if he did.

April came downstairs just as his mother was going back up. Jake heard Gail fussing over his sister-in-law, and April, her voice scratchy, assuring her that she was fine, and that she just needed something to settle her stomach. Gail offered to make tea, but April declined, saying that she needed to do something for herself, on her own. He listened to her footsteps as she crossed the living and dining rooms, heard the creak of the kitchen door as she went through.

He was dozing when April left the kitchen, and he didn't realize she'd come into the den rather than returning upstairs until she was standing over him, offering him a plate. "Here," she announced gruffly. "Your dinner."

The moonlight filtering in through the window allowed Jake to locate the dish April held out for him, and he accepted it with one hand, reaching for the lantern with the other. "What's this?" he asked, igniting the light.

"A hamburger," April informed him with a shrug. "At least as close as you're gonna get these days."

Balancing the plate on his knee, Jake examined the meager meal, which bore a very passing resemblance to a hamburger. The patty was a small, blackened lump and it was centered on a single heel of homemade bread. He was reminded of the 'Where's the Beef?' commercials of his childhood. Poking it with his index finger, he determined that it was room temperature, but at least had the slightly greasy texture of ground beef. "Thanks," he muttered, glancing up at her. "Where'd you get it?"

"That's what we all had for dinner," April explained, crossing her arms. "Stephanie Hyde dropped a couple of pounds of meat off with Heather this afternoon. You and Derek had something worked out?"

"Right," Jake agreed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Though, I may owe him a horse now," he admitted.

"Hmmm," she acknowledged. "Anyway, there you go," she frowned, starting to turn away.

"Thanks," Jake repeated, prodding his dinner one more time before he picked it up. "You came downstairs just to get me dinner?" he asked, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.

"I came downstairs to get some water and some crackers," April corrected. "And, to bring you your dinner. Heather realized she forgot to tell you it was there -"

"Right," he interrupted, his tone brusque and his jaw clenching automatically. Jake concentrated on folding the heel of bread on the diagonal to improvise a bun for the patty. "Thanks," he grumbled, sounding particularly ungrateful.

April's mouth puckered and irritation flared in her eyes. "Hey, I argued that withholding food might be the way to go. You can't do all the stupid things that occur to you if you're weak from hunger," she told him. "But Heather figures you know how to find food, and there's no reason to let that go to waste," she explained, motioning at Jake's hamburger as he took his first bite. She stared at him, chewing her lip and shaking her head absently. He stared back. "What in the world did you think you were doing?"

"I was helping to protect this town," Jake argued, swallowing hard and dropping the burger, now missing two bites, back on the plate. "I was trying to protect Heather. And you."

"Well that's a perfectly noble, romantic, stupid gesture," April declared, making an exasperated noise. She stepped back toward the couch, seating herself on the other end, watching Jake sideways. "If you'd gotten yourself killed, that would have protected Heather, me, your Mom, exactly until the next armed group comes to town demanding supplies or whatever else. Maybe," she finished with a derisive snort.

Jake turned his head, refusing to meet her eye. "Yeah, well, I've already gotten that lecture - more than once - and I don't need it again," he ground out, shaking his head.

"Okay then," April returned, forcing herself up from the couch. "I guess I'll just be going." She waited a few seconds, not moving toward the door. Jake glanced at her finally, and she exploded. "You're an idiot!" April accused, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're an idiot, and you deserve every -" she broke off, pressing one hand over her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I assume that you're aware that in five months you're going to be a father?" she inquired sarcastically. "And, maybe you can imagine, just a little bit, of what it must be like to be Heather, and hear that your husband - father of your unborn child, which I might add, is actually living inside you - and you hear that your husband has been playing chicken with his life against some psychotic thug. But hey!" she declared, clenching her hands into fists and groaning, "At least he was protecting you!"

Her words hung in the air around him, echoing soundlessly in his ears for a long moment. Leaning forward, Jake buried his head in his hands, muttering, "I'm sorry."

April didn't respond, and when he looked up at her finally, it was obvious that she was fighting for control. Heaving a deep sigh, she moved back to the couch, climbing into the corner and drawing her knees up to her chest. "You probably should try saying that to Heather," she advised quietly.

"I did, actually," Jake replied. He picked up the hamburger and examined it for a few seconds before dropping it back on the plate and then setting it on the cushion next to him. ''Got that part of the lecture from Dad," he added, allowing a frustrated chuckle. "Sorry," he threw out quickly, holding up a hand. "I - It's not - I know I messed up," Jake assured her with a grim smile. "I know that. But she didn't give me a chance to explain, either," he argued a moment later, throwing himself back against the sofa. "Said she couldn't depend on me, needed to be alone. So what do I do with that?" he demanded.

"Try again," April answered. "You try again," she repeated, "Or you give up. Those are the options, right?" she asked with a shrug, resting her chin on her knee.

"Right." Jake's response was clipped, almost sounding as if he'd given it against his will. He shook his head, but didn't say anything else, squelching the urge to further defend himself.

They ended up staring at one another, across the couch, for a long moment until April asked quietly, plaintively, "When did Eric stop trying?"

Jake closed his eyes. He was grateful to be off the topic of Heather and himself, at least for the moment, but Eric and April might be the one subject he was even less inclined to discuss. "I don't know what to tell you," he admitted. "My brother's an idiot."

"Your brother's an ass," April countered with a frown, her eyes flooding with tears that she managed, somehow, to blink back.

"That he is," Jake muttered.

"He knew," she began, her voice cracking. "He knew," April repeated, emphasizing the blame she now assigned to Eric. "He knew that this is what I was afraid of. I - I - The first time he proposed, I said 'no'," she confessed. "Because I was afraid of this."

Jake's expression clearly betrayed his surprise, and he stared at her. "I thought - I thought hospital patio, and half the staff watching?" Eric's proposal to April was family legend, so much so that they had all ribbed Jake that his proposal atop the water tower was an obvious attempt to best his brother, forcing Heather to blushingly confess that she'd told Jake on their 'technical' second date that if he ever wanted to propose, the water tower would be a good choice of location. The Greens had turned their teasing on Heather then, until Gail, taking pity on her embarrassed future daughter-in-law, had claimed that Johnston's marriage proposal, in the denuded Fillmore County Hospital Memorial Rose Garden as the first snow of the season was just beginning to fall, was certainly as good as either of Eric's or Jake's, which had naturally sparked a whole new round of debate.

"That was Eric's second proposal, the one we talk about, the one I didn't turn down," April admitted, pressing her lips together tightly. "I coulda killed him. In front of everybody," she groaned and then took a deep breath. "It was completely embarrassing, but I'd said 'no' before, so it's not like I had any right to be picky. I'd told him - the first time - that I didn't believe in marriage, not after witnessing the train wreck that was my parents', anyway. I didn't want us to end up like them, but here we are," April grumbled, emitting a frustrated chuckle. "He's having an affair with a - with a cocktail waitress, and I'm stuck -" She broke off then, shaking her head and looking away from Jake. "Well, I'm just stuck," she complained, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "If it turns out he's got a secret gambling addiction, then we'll have done a perfect job of recreating my parents' marriage."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Jake studied his sister-in-law who, apparently deep in thought, stared past him, unseeing. He didn't know what to say to her, and he ended up reaching for his hamburger just to have something to do with his hands. Even the small bite he took caught in his throat, too dry to go down easily. "April," he muttered, swallowing forcefully.

"I thought we'd broken up," she began. Jake slumped slightly, certain she hadn't heard him, unwilling to interrupt her despite his desire to be almost anywhere but in this conversation, at this moment. "I mean, after I said 'no', he took me home and I didn't hear anything from him for a week. I hated it, but I couldn't blame him," she sighed. "I worked a lot that week, and I didn't bother to pick up my mail - didn't bother to do much of anything," April frowned, rubbing her forehead with two fingers. "And, he'd sent me a letter the next day, which basically put the ball into my court, only I didn't know it. God, that letter," she murmured, shivering, and then rubbing her arms to ward off an imaginary chill.

"I phoned my mother - I really didn't know what to do - and she called it a Mr. Darcy move," April remembered, glancing at Jake. "Pride and Prejudice," she told him, spotting his questioning look. "You had to read it in high school, even if you have blocked it out," she assured. "But it wasn't, it was the exact opposite. Eric wrote his letter to convince me we could do it, not to tell me off. He said that we wouldn't be like my parents, we'd be like yours, that we'd use them as our role models. He said he loved me more than anything, and he promised," April declared, and then she repeated herself more loudly. "He promised we'd make it work. That we'd always work at making it work. I married Eric because of that letter," she said, allowing a harsh chuckle.

"This last year, year and a half," she continued, shaking her head in frustration, "Even though all we could seem to do most days was fight, I thought we were both still trying," April snapped, maneuvering herself so that she sat Indian-style. She dragged a throw pillow into her lap, grinding her clenched fists into it. "There were so many times I couldn't see how it was gonna work, I couldn't see a future. But I always remembered that letter."

April paused finally to catch her breath. She seemed to deflate a little, and she grabbed up the throw pillow, cradling it against her chest. "I had divorce papers drawn up," she told Jake, a sob catching in her throat. "But only because we couldn't go on like that. We had to - somebody had to do something."

"Yeah," Jake acknowledged quietly. His head was starting to swim as everything he knew from Eric, and now from April, fell into place. He couldn't help but feel like they'd been torturing one another for months, and he didn't understand how anyone could live like that. He didn't understand how they'd gotten to that, and it horrified him to see that two people who had loved each other so fiercely could end up like his brother and April.

Jake moved his plate to the side table and then slid down the couch so that he was sitting next to April. "C'mere," he murmured, holding his arms open. Surprised, she stared at him for a few seconds before her face crumpled, and she started to cry. She fell into his embrace, sobbing against his shoulder, and grimacing, Jake held her, patting her back, at a complete loss for what else to do or say.

The world was falling apart, Jake couldn't help but think, tightening his grasp. The bombs, Eric and April, his father's illness, the massacre at the hospital and Ravenwood, now marauding across the countryside. Gray Anderson and Jonah Prowse. Everything felt like it was closing in on him and his family, and at the same time tearing them apart. The idea that he and Heather could somehow end up like April and Eric twisted his gut, and he took a deep breath, trying to drive the idea out of his head.

Apologizing, April pushed away, wiping her nose and her eyes on her already damp sleeve "I'm sorry," she croaked self-consciously, retreating into her corner of the couch. "I'm sorry. I don't know -"

"It's okay," Jake muttered, offering a sympathetic frown. "I - You're right. My brother is an ass."

For just a second, sorrow and pain and anger flared again in April's expression, but then she forced it away, grim resolve settling across her features. She shook her head. "You know, I thought - I actually thought - that if I confronted him, if I asked him to move out, or handed him divorce papers that - that it might be a catalyst, you know?" she sniffed, shaking her head. "The kick in the pants we both needed to solve this thing," April sighed. "And if it wasn't, if we couldn't get back what we used to have, then at least we'd tried. We'd both tried. We could've found a way to be - to be amicable." Frowning, April turned away, unable to face Jake. "It never occurred to me that he'd checked out already. It never occurred to me that he'd even look at another woman," she admitted, throwing her hands up. "He's too proper for that, too much of a politician."

"He's a smug, sanctimonious bastard," Jake accused quietly.

"Yeah," April agreed, closing her eyes. She waited a few seconds and then opened them, twisting around to face her brother-in-law. "I love you, Jake," she sighed. "You're my favorite brother. But, Heather's my best friend, and I don't really like men right now," she continued, groaning in exasperation. "I just can't take another disappointment, from another man. So you've got to fix this. You gotta keep tryin'."

"I'm your only brother," he reminded, a ghost of a smile curling his lips. "And, this - with Heather and me - it's a bump in the road, that's all. Not even a bump. It's a blip," he decided, trying to convince himself as much as April. "It'll be okay, we'll be okay," he promised.

Watching Jake closely, April nodded. "Okay," she murmured. "So, I think I'm gonna go to bed," she decided a moment later, stifling a yawn.

"Okay," Jake agreed as she climbed to her feet. "Night, April."

A few steps from the door, she turned around. "You know how, before you get married, everyone - and I mean everyone - tells you 'don't let the sun go down on your anger'?" April asked. "Well, it's corny, for sure, but it's not exactly bad advice."

With that, she was gone and Jake was once again alone in the den with his ranger manual and half-eaten hamburger. The burger he choked down, all the while wondering how something he'd long claimed as a favorite food could be so awful. Then, picking up his book and the lantern, Jake expelled a nervous breath and made his way upstairs.

He knocked lightly at their bedroom door, resisting the urge to try it, afraid to find it locked. Twenty seconds - an eternity - passed, and then he heard, more than saw, the door open. Heather stepped back, holding onto the doorknob with one hand, facing him with a guarded expression. Hefting the lantern, Jake's gaze swept over her. She'd changed into flannel pajama pants and an oversized nightshirt that had a cartoon picture of a chicken in glasses and the words 'chick with brains' written across the front. The nightshirt had been a gag Christmas gift from Heather's brother Michael two or three years before, and Jake had once gotten himself into hot water by referring to it within her hearing as her 'don't come near me' nightwear. The shirt had always been ridiculously big on Heather, and it still was, completely hiding all signs of her pregnancy. "Jake," she murmured in greeting.

"I lied this morning when I said I fell asleep downstairs last night," he told her. "I'm sorry. I - In Rogue River yesterday, at the hospital, Ravenwood had killed everyone there, everyone but Kenchy. And, Eric," Jake continued, setting the lantern on the floor at his feet, "When we were locking up last night, he realized that he'd left his jacket and his driver's license back there. We knew it'd give 'em a destination," he explained, "So I stayed downstairs, waiting. Just doing guard duty," Jake shrugged, frowning softly. "That started to feel real stupid around four, five AM," he admitted with a derisive chuckle. "But that's why I didn't come up last night. And, I'm sorry."

Hugging herself, Heather allowed a cautious nod, her eyes locked with his. "Okay."

"And, when I didn't tell you all that before, it wasn't because I thought you couldn't handle it," Jake continued. "Just - Just, why would you want to know that? I sure as hell didn't want to know any of it," he admitted, shuddering softly. "I didn't want to see all those - all that death." He paused, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. "And, I'm gonna be protective," Jake told her, his lips pressed tightly together. "I love you, and it just comes with the territory. So sorry."

Heather actually cracked a smile at that. "You're really not," she murmured, hugging herself. "Sorry, I mean."

A little surprised and a lot relieved by her overture, Jake didn't manage to respond until he saw her smile start to falter. "Yes. No. You're right," he declared in a rush of breath, reaching toward her but then pulling his hand back, pressing it to his mouth. "Heather," he began again, agonizing seconds later, watching her closely. "I'm not sorry for being protective of you, but I am sorry I hurt you."

"Thank you," she murmured, worrying her lip. Their gazes locked. "But Jake, I need to be a party to the decisions that affect me," Heather told him, frowning softly. "Even if all I can do is worry, I need to know what's going on."

Jake nodded, breaking their stare by glancing down at his feet. "Okay." He looked up and offered her a tentative smile. "Can I - Can I come in?" he asked, clearing his throat nervously.

"Sure," she agreed, taking a step back into the bedroom.

"Thanks," he murmured, picking up the lantern and then following her in. Jake pushed the door closed behind him, and taking a deep breath, turned to face Heather. He was heartened to find that she hadn't retreated from him, but saddened to see how guarded her expression still was. "Heather, I'm not my brother," Jake assured her, taking a deep breath. "I am not going anywhere, and I am in this for the long haul."

"Okay," she acknowledged, pressing her folded hands to her mouth. They continued to stare at one another across the three feet that separated them, neither saying anything. Jake was just about to set the lantern down on the floor, not knowing what else to do, when Heather said, "You're tired."

"Yeah," Jake agreed with a sigh. "Yeah, I am."

"Truce?" Heather offered softly, taking a step toward him, holding out her hand.

Jake practically lunged toward her, finding her hand and gripping it tightly in his. "Truce."

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