Different Circumstances: Part 3A of ? by Marzee Doats

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Thursday, September 21, sixteen hours after the bombs

Jake was the last one into the storm cellar, having shoved Emily in, none too gently, ahead of him.  She stumbled down the stairs, retreating into a corner while he worked to get the door pulled shut and secured behind them.  He was halfway down the stairs when they all started at a loud clap of thunder followed by the unmistakable whoosh of the downpour beginning to pelt the house and land above.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jake?"  It was Bill who asked the question, standing in the middle of the Richmonds' cellar in his underwear and socks.  "Aren't you supposed to be off undercover somewhere?"

"I finished up my last assignment," Jake told him tiredly, "Got back to town last night."

"Did they find the bus?" Jimmy asked softly, his eyes wide.  "The school bus?  Heather's class?" he murmured.  "We were all out looking."

Jake nodded.  The school bus he could bring himself to think about, because that had turned out okay.  It was the salt mine, and the fact that he'd blown up the entrance with Heather on the other side, that caused the giant lump in his throat.  "Found the school bus," he assured, his voice gravelly.  "It ran off the road when - It ran off the road."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed.  He hadn't been able to bring himself to say the words, not really, and it made him feel better that Jake Green couldn't manage to either.  "Everybody okay?"

"The bus driver's dead," Jake explained, starting to sit down on the stairs.  He remembered the radio he'd brought along, attached to his back pocket, and yanked it loose.  He'd wanted it out of the way while he approached the house, but now it was his lifeline, his only connection to Heather and the rest of his family until the storm passed.  "Everyone else is okay," he continued.  "Heather broke her leg, and one of the kids was hurt pretty seriously, but the rest, just scrapes and bruises," he reported, turning the radio on and beginning to play with the receiver. 

It was dark on the stairs, making it hard to see, and Jake's hands were beginning to shake.  He knew he was coming down off the adrenaline rush he'd been on all morning.  He bit his lip, willing his body to cooperate.  He hadn't had any contact with the salt mine since he'd detonated the explosives, sealing the entrance, and he had to know that they were okay and that his wife was safe.

"You want me to give it a try?" Jimmy offered, motioning at the radio.  Jake could tell from the glint of understanding in the other's man's eye that he had noticed the tremors that were now wracking Jake's body, but luckily, none of the others seemed to have observed them.  "I'm good with electronics," Jimmy said.

"Sure, thanks," Jake agreed, expelling the breath he'd been holding.  He handed the radio to Jimmy, and fell back against the cellar wall, his eyes closed, allowing himself a moment to think.  He heard the stair creak, and he opened his eyes in time to see Bill seat himself two steps down.

"Who're you trying to get?" Jimmy asked, holding up the radio. 

"Uh, Gray Anderson or Shep Cale, at the mine," Jake murmured, drawing his knees up to his chest.  "And, my Dad, Eric, somebody at town hall."

"Sure thing," Jimmy agreed.  He turned toward Bonnie, smiling to get her attention, and then asked for a lantern or another light. 

Bonnie produced two lanterns and some blankets which she gave to Jimmy and Bill.  She didn't offer one to Jake which was a relief.  He'd known Bonnie since she was three days old and she'd always been a surrogate little sister to him.  Jake wasn't ready to have Bonnie start worrying about him, especially not now when he knew she was worried about Stanley.

Silence reigned over the group for a few minutes.  They were all lost in their own thoughts, listening to the suddenly menacing sound of the rain pounding down above.  Jake allowed his eyes to slip closed again, leaning his head back against the wall.  In his mind's eye, the explosion at the mine played on loop.  Jake forced himself to breathe in and out, deeply, trying to calm himself so that he could analyze the situation.  The force of the explosion had seemed too large, and he worried that they might have caused the cave-in he'd warned Shep against.  Still, it had been necessary to completely seal the entrance.  There was no guarantee that using less dynamite would have done that.  Jake grumbled at himself under his breath.  Second-guessing wasn't going to get him anywhere now.  But, what else did he have to do?  He'd left Heather in that mine and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it until the rain stopped.

"She's still not talking," Bill mumbled beside him, interrupting Jake's self-abusive reverie.  "I get that," Bill continued, staring at Emily, who sat with her back to them, a few feet away.  "I mean, I'm a cop.  I've never killed anybody.  She's a school teacher."

Bonnie jumped up from her chair, having seen Bill talking, though Jake doubted that she could read his lips in the weak light of the storm cellar.  She charged across the small space, her focus on him.  "Where's Stanley?" she demanded, her tone plaintive.  "Jake, my brother doesn't know about the radiation," she added, signing simultaneously.

"When the rain stops, he'll be back," Jake reassured, speaking soothingly although he knew she couldn't hear him.  He leaned forward to make sure Bonnie could read his lips, signing the few words he knew.  "Don't worry," he comforted.  "Bonnie, I know Stanley.  He'll be fine."

Bonnie frowned, and started to protest the situation again, but Jimmy interrupted, holding out the radio to Jake.  "I've got your brother," he announced.  "He's with your Dad."

Taking the radio, Jake nodded his thanks.  "Eric, how's Dad?" he questioned, speaking into the microphone.

"He's good," Eric's voice crackled out of the radio's speaker.  "The town hall shelter's secure," he reported.  "Listen, Jake, where are you?"

'Not where I belong,' Jake wanted to answer, but he refrained.  He remembered the scene he had found upon arriving; if he hadn't come out to the Richmond Ranch, Bonnie, Emily, Bill and Jimmy might all have been killed.  "I'm at the Richmonds," he answered finally.  "Look, as soon as the rain stops, get every digging tool you can find, and get to the mine," he ordered.  "I had to blow the entrance to keep the rain out," Jake explained.  "Those people have been sealed up way too long.  And, I'm more worried the explosion may have put some debris into the ventilator."

"Enough to slow it down?" Eric queried.

"Enough to shut it down," Jake contradicted, his stomach churning at the thought.  "We gotta get them out," he said roughly.  Jake took a deep breath, steeling himself to make aloud the admission he didn't want to make.  "I had to leave Heather there," he whispered, his tone gruff.  "At the mine."

"Are you crazy?" Eric barked over the radio.

Jake shook his head, frustrated, wanting nothing more than to scream at his brother.  "Look," he managed to grind out, "The escaped prisoners from the bus I saw last night were here.  They had Bonnie and Emily.  Jimmy and Bill, too."  He sighed, the fight gone momentarily out of him.  "I wasn't going to bring Heather into that."

The radio went silent for a few seconds, and then Eric reported the news that Jake absolutely didn't want to hear.  "We can't reach anyone at the mine," his brother said.  "We have no radio contact with anyone there."

Jimmy took back the radio before Jake could drop it.  "That doesn't mean anything," he told Jake, forcing him to make eye contact.  "I worked there, the summer after high school.  Why do you think I became a cop?" he joked weakly.  "They're at least forty, fifty feet underground, and if you sealed the entrance?  Three or four feet of rock, and then all this rain to interfere?  It's not surprising that the signal isn't getting through.  It doesn't mean a thing."

"Thanks, Jimmy," Jake muttered, nodding once in acknowledgment.

Jimmy ducked his head in return, but didn't say anything else.  He retreated back into the corner of the cellar, pulling the quilt Bonnie had loaned him more tightly around him, and continuing to converse quietly over the radio with Eric at town hall.

Jake settled back on the stair he'd claimed, contemplating Jimmy's statement.  He found that he was reassured, hopeful even.  He had to be; Jake knew that if anything happened to Heather at the mine, he'd never forgive himself.  Jake closed his eyes.  He was tired, that was true, but he also wasn't above praying.  Jake wasn't religious, not in the way his wife was, or to a lesser extent, his mother, but he respected their convictions and he believed in God.  While he wasn't sure God would be interested in anything he might ask for, he also figured that God wouldn't turn down an intercessionary prayer offered on Heather's behalf.  'Just let her be safe.  Just keep her safe,' he thought, looking heavenward. 

Across the room, Emily sighed, shifting herself on the bench she sat on, drawing Jake's attention.  He was still smarting a little from her comment outside, that it wasn't ever safe around him, mostly because it made him doubt again his decision to leave Heather behind at the mine.  He couldn't stop thinking about it, and he knew he wouldn't, not until he knew she was okay, not until he held her again. 

Bonnie and Emily were conversing quietly, their heads close together so that Bonnie could read Emily's lips.  It had been a feat to teach Bonnie how to whisper, and Jake found himself wishing that Stanley and the special education teacher hadn't been so successful.  He wasn't above distracting himself by contemplating what they were talking about, but right now he couldn't make anything out. 

Jake also wasn't above wondering why Emily was even at the Richmond Ranch.  The best that could be said about Emily and Stanley was that they were civil to one another.  Jake knew that Emily was Bonnie's English teacher - Jericho High was too small to support two teachers in any subject - but aside from that, there wasn't any reason for Emily to be with Bonnie.

The fact of the matter was, Jake hardly knew Emily anymore.  He saw her socially on occasion, mostly at school district-related events that Heather was compelled to attend.  Heather and Emily were friendly - more so when he wasn't around than when he was - but not friends.   Jericho was a small town so it was inevitable that they would see each other, but Jake had moved on from their disastrous past together, as had she.  If he thought of her, it was rarely and the only guilt he still suffered in relation to Emily Sullivan was a slight twinge regarding her brother.

Still, he didn't like to see her looking so lost, so miserable, and he was trying to escape his own head, so the next thing Jake knew, he was up off his stair and moving across the cellar toward her.  Bonnie seemed to recognize his intent and vacated the seat she had next to Emily.  Jake dropped into the chair, sitting in it backwards.  "You doin' all right?" he asked before answering for himself, "Stupid question, right?"  

Emily looked up at him, a hint of a glare in her expression.  "Right," she muttered.

Jake decided to try a different tact.  "What in the world are you doing out here, Em?"

"I was driving to Wichita," she explained dully, when she finally deigned to answer.  "Roger was flying in last night."

"Oh."  Jake didn't know how else to respond.  If he didn't know Emily anymore, he really didn't know anything about her fiancé except that he worked at the bank and drove an expensive car.  They'd gotten engaged over Christmas, and Emily had still been showing off her rock of an engagement ring to everyone she met when Jake had seen her last, at Bailey's on Super Bowl Sunday when he and Heather had stopped in for a few minutes before heading out to Stanley's annual party.  Heather had mentioned in an email once that Emily seemed actually happy finally, and that she'd moved into Roger's house in Jericho's one exclusive neighborhood, The Pines.

"How do you know the rain's radioactive?" Emily challenged suddenly, her chin sticking out in defiance.  "Denver's pretty far away."

Jake at least felt comfortable with this turn in their conversation.  "Well, we don't know how many bombs there were," he explained.  "We don't know -"

He cut himself off at the first, faint squeak of a floorboard in the house above them.  The intruder took another step, and now they were all staring at the ceiling, even Bonnie.  "What is it?" she demanded.

"Someone's in the house," Jake muttered, turning to look at Bonnie so she could see his mouth.  He pulled himself up out of his chair and grabbed her by the arm, pushing her behind him.

"Not more prisoners," Emily whispered, her voice laced with dread.  She moved to Bonnie's other side, ready to help protect the teenager.

Jake started to back up, forcing both women to also step back.  Meanwhile, Bill and Jimmy moved into position, watching the cellar door, guns drawn.  They all held their breaths, waiting, and then the cellar door creaked open and the intruder took his first step on the stairs.  He took a second step, then a third, and at last the cellar door slammed closed behind him.  He took one more step, and finally they could see who they were dealing with.

"Stanley!" Bonnie cried out, her relief at her brother's appearance evident. 

Stanley jogged down the last three steps, taking in with a glance the occupants of his storm cellar.  His eyes landed on his sister.  "Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed.

 Bonnie tried to get around Jake, to her brother, but he stopped her, grabbing her around the waist.  "No, hey!  Hey!  No!" he shouted, holding up his hand to keep Stanley away.  "Uh-uh. Stanley, don't touch her," Jake ordered, his expression grim.  "The rain may be radioactive."  

Stanley halted immediately, signing and speaking to Bonnie.  "It's okay, it's okay," he crooned.  "Stay with Jake."

Bonnie stopped struggling against the hold that Jake had on her arm and finally he let go.  Emily somehow convinced Bonnie to return to the chair she'd been sitting in, and so Jake was left alone, facing his best friend for the first time in over seven months.  "Jimmy, is Eric still on the radio?" he asked, glancing at the deputy.  "We need to talk to April."

"I'll get 'em back," Jimmy promised, already working to raise town hall again.

"Jake Green, where'd you come from?" Stanley asked after a few, awkward seconds during which they simply stared at one another.  A shadow passed over his face.  "Heather -"

"Is fine," Jake told Stanley, praying again that this was true.  "Heather is fine," he repeated.  "I was on my way home last night, planning to surprise her, got in a wreck, so did the bus," he explained somewhat incoherently.  It was a testament to their long friendship that Stanley could follow.  "Her leg's broken, but other than that...." Jake trailed off.  "She's fine.  We were together when we heard Emily's distress call about the escaped prisoners."

Stanley chuckled humorlessly.  "Escaped prisoners?  That explains the dead guy in my front yard," he muttered.

"Actually, there're two dead guys in your yard," Bill offered.

"Even better," Stanley muttered.   A dribble of water ran out of Stanley's hair and down the side of his face.  He wiped it away with the already soaked sleeve of his shirt, shivering slightly.

Jake turned to Bonnie.  "Do you have another blanket for Stanley?" he asked.

Bonnie frowned, shaking her head 'no'.  From the corner, Jimmy volunteered the quilt he'd been using, and his spot at the other end of the cellar.  Jake and Stanley exchanged a silent look, both agreeing that this was for the best.  Jimmy and Stanley traded places, and Jimmy handed Jake the radio.  "Eric's finding April," he reported.

"April, Stanley seems to be okay," Jake called into the radio after his sister-in-law announced herself on the other end.  "I'd say he was in it for about twenty minutes."  He looked to Stanley for confirmation.

Stanley nodded.  He'd stripped off his wet shirt, and now he was wrapped up in the quilt Jimmy had given up.  "Yeah, I was out at my cousin's," he explained, clearing his throat.  "Helping them put the livestock up.  Got caught in it."

"Is he vomiting?" April asked.

"No, he's not," Jake advised, hoping he was giving the right answer.

"Okay," April acknowledged.  "Do you have any iodine there?"

Jake turned toward Bonnie, requesting, "Bonnie, iodine?"  The teenager moved to the first aid kit mounted on the wall, and began searching.

"Hey, what's with all the tanks?" Stanley inquired while they waited for Bonnie.

On the stairs, Bill sat up straight, staring at Stanley.  "What tanks?" he questioned.

"On my way home, I passed a line of tanks," Stanley explained.  "They were haulin' ass towards Denver."

A cold feeling ran down Jake's spine.  "Stanley, how many tanks did you see?" he demanded.

Stanley shrugged. "Five, maybe?" he guessed.

"Where?"

"They were over the ridge," Stanley answered.  He paused, concentrating for a moment, and ended up shaking his head.  "I couldn't tell you exactly where they were, but I was on Farsmill Road, near I-70."

Bonnie turned around, holding up a bottle of dark liquid for everyone to see, and then tossed it to Jake, who caught it with his free hand.  "April, we have iodine," he announced into the radio.

"He's going to need to take a couple of tablespoons," April replied.  "But it tastes vile, so do you have any bread, something that he can take with it?"

Jake began to look around. "We're in the cellar, all we've got is canned peaches and pickles," he told her.

"Not the pickles," April instructed.  "Maybe the peaches."

Stanley grimaced, and made a 'gimme' motion, wiggling his fingers.  "Jake, just give me the iodine," he demanded.

April was still speaking.  "The second that the rain breaks, rush him to the clinic," she directed.  "Now, Jake," she sighed.  "If he throws up in the next couple of hours, get Bonnie out of that room."

The cold feeling settled in Jake's stomach, causing it to churn again.  He wondered for a moment if he was going to be the one to throw up.  "Why?" he croaked.

April's grim tone was obvious, even with the increased static on the radio transmission, caused by the storm.  "Because," she explained, "Her brother is going to die."

Jake looked at Stanley, making sure he'd heard.  From the stubborn set of Stanley's jaw, Jake knew he had.  "Okay, April, copy that," he muttered into the radio.  "Can you get Dad for me?"

"Sure thing, give me a second," she said. 

Jake waited, taking deep breaths again to calm himself.  He couldn't believe the nightmare he found himself in.  The lives of his wife and his best friend were both in danger and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  He looked again at Stanley, who was watching him carefully.  "Heather's at the salt mine," he confessed quietly.  "I blew it up - the entrance - with her and two hundred other people inside."

"Wow," Stanley murmured.  This was a far cry from the 'she's fine' line that Jake had been spouting a few minutes before.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Rescue mission," Jake retorted sourly.

"My knight in shining armor," Stanley shot back. 

Before either man could say anything else, the radio in Jake was holding crackled to life again.  "Yeah, Son," Johnston Green's voice sounded over the handset.  "What is it?"

"Dad, Stanley saw a line of tanks near I-70," he reported.

"Well, you know there's a National Guard unit to the southwest there in Goodland," Johnston reasoned.  "Maybe they've got a relief effort going."

Jake wanted to believe his father, but his experience screamed that they couldn't expect such an easy, innocent explanation.  "Well, we need to get out there and see," he argued.  "After this is all over, after we know everyone's safe," he added, raising his voice.  'After I've seen that Heather's safe with my own two eyes,' he concluded silently, to himself.

"That could be a dangerous thing to do, Son," Johnston cautioned, starting to cough.

Jake had to resist the urge to snort in response.  'What isn't dangerous?' he thought.  For years, Jake had come and gone from Jericho, mostly finding danger and intrigue when he was away, mostly finding comfort and a safe haven when he was home.  He knew that he had to do whatever he could to keep Jericho safe, for Heather, for his mother, for the kids that had been on that school bus. 

"Can't just sit around and wait to find out what's happening," he argued, shaking his head at his father's stubbornness.  "I'll ... I'll go to Goodland," he offered.  "Someone should check out Topeka."

"Okay, Son," Johnston relented with a sigh.

Jake nodded, satisfied.  He handed the radio Jimmy, and started to move back to his spot on the stairs.  Emily blocked his way.

"I'm going with you," she announced.

"What?" Jake stared at her, unable to comprehend her words.

"I have to find Roger," she argued, "And, Goodland's on the way to Wichita -"

Jake didn't want to deal with this, with Emily.  "You are in no condition -"

"I'm going with you, or I'm going by myself," she declared, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Fine," Jake conceded wearily.  "But, I'm not going anywhere until Heather's out of that mine - safe - so don't get ahead of yourself, Em."  He grasped her by the shoulders then, moving her so she was out of his path, and returned to his place on the stairs.  He was still there five or ten minutes later when Stanley motioned him over.

"Jake," Stanley called quietly.  "Don't let Bonnie see your lips," he admonished when his friend joined him on the other side of the cellar.  "Listen man," he continued, sitting sideways and shielding his face from his sister's view, "If this thing doesn't turn out so good...." Stanley trailed off, letting the ominous words hand between them for a moment.  "Thing is, Bonnie is still just a kid -"

"Stanley!" Jake rebuked.  He was devoting all the worrying he could manage to Heather, and he refused to contemplate what Stanley was suggesting.  "Don't even," he ordered, gritting his teeth.  "All right?  You're gonna be fine."

Stanley scowled.  "My head is pounding, I feel like I'm gonna throw up." 

Jake was saved from having to try and argue to Stanley that, no, he really didn't feel lousy, if only because he wasn't going to allow it, by the sudden, blessed cessation of the rain.  Again, they all looked up at the ceiling, but this time they were all starting to smile, and Bonnie didn't insist on knowing what was going on.

Jake grabbed the radio from Jimmy, crowing into it, "Eric!  The rain has stopped."  He didn't bother to get confirmation that his brother had received the transmission.  "Bill, Emily!  Get Stanley to the medical clinic now, okay?" he directed.  "Find April, she'll know what to do."  Jake took a deep breath, turning to face Jimmy.  "You're comin' with me to the mine, all right?"

Jimmy nodded, and Bill already had Stanley up and walking toward the stairs, Bonnie trailing after them as close as they would allow.  Only Emily wasn't moving to do as he asked.

"Jake," she addressed him.  "I meant what I said, all right?"

For a second, Jake saw red.  He wanted nothing more than to strangle her, astounded that Emily could manage, at this moment, to be this selfish.  "Yeah," Jake snapped.  "I know, all right?  I know.  And, once Heather is safe, I will help you find Roger," he told her, his fists balled against his thighs.  "Go!" he commanded. 

He turned away then, not caring what she did.  Emily could spend the rest of the day in the Richmonds' cellar for all he cared.  Jake mounted the stairs, barking at his brother over the radio.  "Eric, we're comin' to the mine now," he yelled.  "We have to dig those people out."

'I'm comin', babe, hang on,' he added silently, the thoughts he directed at Heather morphing somehow into another prayer.  'Keep her safe,' Jake begged.  "Please let her be safe.'

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

Saturday, October 13, five years before the bombs

"I thought that was you," Jake greeted Heather, climbing out of his car, parked beside hers, in the small gravel lot provided for customers of the Richmond Ranch produce stand.  Actually, he'd known it was her, recognizing her car immediately when they had arrived simultaneously but from opposite directions, at the three-way intersection between Route 40 and the Richmond Ranch road.

"Hey, Jake," she replied, smiling.  "I thought it was you, too."

They watched each other for a few seconds, trying to determine where they stood now, literally, in the clear light of day.  Jake took a deep breath, walking around his car to the back of hers.  "You've got all new tires," he observed, feeling ridiculous even as the words left his mouth.

Heather giggled softly, and Jake found himself thinking how much he enjoyed the sound of it.  "Yeah, I splurged," she told him. 

"That's splurging?" Jake asked, starting to laugh himself.

"New tires, new shoes," she shrugged.  "Same difference, in my book.  Though," she admitted, stepping toward him, "I really can't afford to do both in the same month." 

Heather was at his elbow now, and Jake confirmed that he was still just as affected by her presence as he had been the night before.  He was so concentrated on taking her all in - from her apple scented hair pulled back into a ponytail to the oddly adorable purple laces in her running shoes - that he was only half listening to what she said next. 

"I was at Sam's Club, credit card in hand, when they opened this morning.  An hour later," Heather declared, "New tires, with a twelve month guarantee.  You shouldn't need to rescue me from a blow out for at least a year."

"But, I would," Jake assured, his tone suddenly serious.  Heather nodded, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.  The rest of what she'd said penetrated is brain, and Jake groaned.  "You were at Sam's Club when they opened?" he questioned, "In Goodland?  Please tell me you're not one of those disgustingly cheerful morning people," he begged.

She laughed again, shaking her head.  "Actually, I'm a 'burn the candle at both ends' kinda person," Heather confessed.  "Great in the morning, great at night, but barely coherent from noon to four.  Not exactly the sort of thing an elementary school teacher should be admitting to," she finished, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, your secret is safe with me," Jake promised.

"I knew it would be," Heather murmured, her expression momentarily unreadable.  Jake found himself caught up in her gaze, trying to discern what was running through her head.  Her eyes were trusting, but she also exuded an air of apprehension, and Jake guessed that she was feeling somewhat out of her element.  She turned away then, opening the trunk of her car to retrieve a canvas bag.

"Here to shop, I see," Jake said, falling in alongside her as Heather started to walk toward the farm stand.

"Yeah," Heather replied, glancing at him sideways.  "But I'm really here to pick out a bunny."

"A bunny?"

"Yeah.  Bonnie - I assume you know the Richmonds, since you know everybody else in Jericho.  Bonnie thinks my class needs a pet," Heather explained.  "And, she has some prizewinning rabbits that she won't give away to anyone, so when she offered me one, Stanley said I had to take it.  Seriously," she chuckled, "He's called me once a day for a week to remind me.  There was even a message on the machine when I got home last night."

"Bonnie took the blue ribbon at the county fair this summer for her rabbits.  4-H project," Jake told Heather, contemplating the implications of everything else she'd said.  He could understand how she knew Bonnie, who was a sixth-grader at Jericho Elementary.  Jake figured it was more than likely that Heather would take it upon herself to get to know every student in the school. But, what he didn't understand was how she knew Stanley.  And, Jake wondered, how well did Stanley and Heather know one another?  Obviously well enough that Stanley could call her every day.

"Ah, yes, 4-H!" Heather exclaimed, just as they came into sight of the farm stand.  "Another organization that, for some reason, we didn't have at my girls' Catholic high school in Buffalo," she joked, waving at Stanley, who had spotted them, but was tied up helping a customer.

"I think 4-H is mandatory in Jericho," Jake replied as they walked the last few steps to the stand.  "Just like we were all 'Future Farmers of America' in high school."

Stanley handed a dollar's change to the middle-aged women he was assisting.  "Thanks Mrs. Dunham.  Come by next week, and I'll definitely have cauliflower and sweet potatoes for you." 

While Mrs. Dunham gathered up her purchases, Stanley turned to Heather and Jake.  "Don't believe him," Stanley advised Heather, eschewing a more standard greeting.  "Technically, he might have been on the club roster, but nobody ever thought Jake Green was a 'Future Farmer'.  Now me," he continued, grinning at her and gesturing to the land around them, "I obviously had a destiny."  He paused, a speculative expression settling on his features as he looked between Heather and Jake.  "So," Stanley declared, crossing his arms, "You two have finally met."

Heather and Jake glanced at one another, exchanging equally baffled looks.  "Um," Heather started, recovering first, "Were we supposed to meet?"

"Everyone in Jericho does, eventually," Stanley shrugged, still watching them carefully, noticing how closely they stood together, and how Jake had absently touched Heather's back, letting his hand stay there for a few seconds before quickly dropping it to his side.  "But, I take it you didn't just meet five minutes ago, in the parking lot," Stanley guessed.

"Actually, we met yesterday," Heather answered, stunned by the realization that she'd only known Jake for a little over eighteen hours.  "I was actually on my way to Jake's grandfather's to talk about a class project, and then my tire blew -"

"And, I was coming home from Denver," Jake interjected, "And, I saw Heather at the side of the road, so I stopped -"

"Jake changed my tire for me," Heather said, continuing their tag-team effort.  "And, we went out to the ranch," she shrugged.  "And, that's how we met."

"Okay," Stanley chuckled, knowing instinctively that there had to be more to it than that.  Something else was needed to explain the sudden appearance of the Green-Lisiniski comedy duo.  "Makes sense, sort of, except that you're a mechanical genius," he accused Heather lightly.  "A veritable witch doctor for machines.  The 'Tractor Whisperer'," he teased.   "Seriously, Myra's running perfectly since you worked on her," Stanley told Heather, mentioning the name he'd given the temperamental tractor he'd inherited, along with the farm, from his father.  "I'm actually starting to miss some of her quirks."

"I was in a skirt," Heather said, just as Jake said, "She was in a skirt."  They looked at each other, grinning in embarrassment that soon gave way to nervous laughter. 

"I was in a skirt," Heather repeated a few seconds later, once she'd forced herself to stop looking at Jake, and return her attention to Stanley. "Which is why Jake stopped to change my tire for me," she clarified.  "So," Heather continued, obviously trying to change the subject, "Which quirks do you miss?  Maybe I can put them back," she suggested, joking.

Stanley shook his head.  "No thanks," he replied.  He was frankly too busy being amazed by the transformation in his best friend, and even Heather to an extent, though he'd only known her for a few weeks, to worry about anything else.  No, it was Jake who surprised him.  Jake, who had been by turns, irritable, withdrawn and morose, ever since Jonah Prowse's arrest, and Chris Sullivan's death, four months before.  At the time, Stanley hadn't cared, but once Jake had found him and confessed his role in the situation, followed by the press conference and the two-day sensation of TV reporters from Wichita crawling all over Jericho, he'd forgiven Jake his deception, and they had gone back to being friends.  However, they were still a little leery of each other, mainly, Stanley thought, because of the funk that Jake had been in, and now suddenly wasn't.  Stanley couldn't help but be astonished at the change in Jake and he couldn't help but wonder how much, exactly, Heather had to do with it.

"You are, of course, now entitled to free produce for the rest of your life," Stanley told Heather, shaking his head, still pondering the sudden transformation in his friend. 

"Only if you keep me on as your on-call tractor repairwoman," Heather bargained.  "Though, of course, I'm not available seven to four on weekdays," she reminded, smiling, "But other than that, I'll be right out."

"Deal," Stanley grinned, offering her his hand so they could shake on the agreement.

Bonnie came out of the house then, running up to Heather and Jake.  She greeted them both enthusiastically, while Stanley began to help the next wave of arriving customers.  "Hey, Jake, hey, Miss Lisinski," she said.

"I told you Bonnie," Heather reminded, facing the girl, "You can call me Heather, just not when we're at school."

Bonnie nodded.  "Hey, Heather," she corrected herself.

Stanley walking by, paused in his dealings with an elderly couple to interject, "But, Miss Lisinski at school.  You don't want to get Heather in trouble."

Jake had observed the interaction between Stanley, Heather, and now Bonnie without speaking and he was only becoming more confused.  Heather had fixed Stanley's tractor?  How often was she at the Richmonds?  Why was Heather inviting Bonnie to call her by her first name when they weren't at school?  Jake was starting to get a bad feeling about the situation.  Were he and Stanley, for the first time in over twenty years of friendship, both interested in the same girl? 

Heather flashed Jake a quick smile, unknowingly befuddling him more.  She wandered off to look over the produce, selecting a couple of apples, which she put in her bag.  Jake watched her go, sighing, and then tugged on Bonnie's ponytail to get her attention.  "I hear you're actually giving away one of your rabbits," he said once she was looking at him, managing to remember the sign for 'rabbit' and, he hoped, 'give'.  "I'm surprised," he told her. 

Bonnie had entered her rabbits into the county fair, only to find out belatedly, that there was a strong possibility that whoever purchased her blue ribbon bunnies would do so either for food or their fur.  She'd been so upset by this idea that she'd refused to sell them.  Stanley had investigated and realized that Bonnie's 4-H leader hadn't done the best job ensuring that all aspects of the rabbit raising project were communicated to his sister.  Bonnie was a farm girl, born and raised, but her rabbits had become pets, just like their dog and the barn cats.  As a result, Bonnie had ended up returning home from the fair with both her prize ribbon and twenty-two rabbits.  It had been during this drama that Jake had been readmitted to the Richmonds' friendship after nearly a year, and he had great sympathy for Bonnie's dilemma. 

Bonnie shook her head.  "Miss Lisinski is the best teacher at school," she told Jake, whispering.  "She'll take good care of 'em."

"So, Heather's really nice, huh?" Jake asked, putting his arm around Bonnie's shoulders.

"She's great," Bonnie confirmed, grinning.  "I love her."  With that, she slipped away from him, skipping after Heather.

It took Stanley nearly ten minutes to handle all of the customers at the stand, but soon they were all on their way, and they couldn't see anyone else coming in on the road.  It was a good time to leave the stand unattended.  "Ready to pick out your rabbit?" he asked Heather.

"Yes," she agreed.  "But, you have to let me pay for this," she added, placing her now full bag on the rough counter.  "I'm taking practically everything you have."

Stanley shrugged.  "Eh, what's mine is yours," he told her, intrigued by the scowl that passed across Jake's face at his words.  "Seriously, five or six bucks of produce is worth not having to go tractor shopping," he assured Heather.  Stanley pulled his 'back in fifteen' sign out from beneath the counter and propped it up.  "I'd get Jake to watch the place, but he can't make change," he continued, checking to make sure his friend was still listening, "It's sad, really."  Stanley glanced at Heather.  "An aeronautical engineer and he can't do basic arithmetic," he finished, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

"Really?"  Heather glanced at Jake, clearly surprised, clearly impressed.  "You're an aeronautical engineer?"

"No," Jake corrected, stepping back into the conversation.  "I have a degree in Aeronautical Science, not Aeronautical Engineering.  There's a big difference," he grumbled, discomfited by Heather's suddenly appraising gaze. 

"You still had to pass calculus, right?" Stanley retorted, locking the cashbox and picking it up to take along.

Jake rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, I passed calculus."

The four started toward the barn, Bonnie dragging Heather along by the hand, chattering excitedly about the rabbit she thought Heather should pick. 

"That's just amazing," Stanley commented to Jake, indicating his sister and Heather.  "You know Bonnie, she just doesn't talk to new people - afraid of making a mistake - but she and Heather just clicked."

Jake waited until Heather and Bonnie entered the barn to respond.  He stopped, grabbing Stanley's arm.  "What exactly is up with you and Heather?" he demanded, glowering.

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

Thursday, September 21, eighteen hours after the bombs

Heather, resting against the back wall of the mine, just as she had promised Jake, checked her watch for the umpteenth time.  Two hours and twelve minutes had passed since the explosion.  She said a quick prayer - also not for the first time - for Jake's safety, for the population of Jericho in general, for Scott Rennie, for the rain to stop.  It was hot in the mine, and dusty, though the grit that suffused the chamber was mostly fine particle salt and not actual dirt.  Her skin was starting to itch, like she'd been in a bath of sea salts for too long.  That was at least as amusing as it was annoying and Heather decided then and there that she'd be throwing out any bath salts she found when she got home. 

She was starting to want out and though she wasn't anywhere close to having a panic attack like her colleague's, she could understand Mr. Rennie's distress.  Heather took a deep breath, and then another.  She was feeling light-headed and dizzy again.  She had to hold it together.  The rain would stop and Jake would come for her, it was just a matter of time. 

When Jake had left Heather had allowed herself only a handful of seconds to react.  Gray Anderson had followed Jake out of the mine but had returned almost immediately, dragging her with him, farther back into the mineshaft.  She had forced herself to stop crying then, biting the inside of her cheek, because the last thing she had wanted to do at that moment was appear weak and girly in front of Gray.  Heather didn't like Gray, didn't trust him, and not just because he was her father-in-law's perpetual mayoral opponent.  Heather had grown up in a union household and Gray had always struck her as the prototype of the unfeeling owner-manager. 

Still gripping her arm, Gray had gotten on the radio, shouting "Almost ready, Jake.  Stand by."

Heather had strained to hear her husband's response but all he said was a rather unsatisfying "C'mon, c'mon."

Shep had jogged down the path then, the last person that had been up at the mouth of the mine.  Gray had shoved Heather at him.  "Get her down there," he had ordered.

But Heather had pulled loose of both men, running her arm quickly over her eyes, trying to relieve the sticky feeling caused by her tears mixing with the particulates in the air.  "I'm going," she had mumbled, having already started down the path that would take her deeper into the mine, mindful of her promise to Jake.

She had made it another twenty feet in before she had heard Gray yell, "Jake, we're all clear!" followed a few seconds later by the deafening roar of an explosion, which had gone on for nearly a half minute.  Instinctively, she had leaned into the wall, praying that it wouldn't come down on top of her.  It hadn't, and when the echo died down, giving way to a moment of blessed silence, they had found themselves truly sealed in and safe, at least from the rain.  It was then that Heather had squared her shoulders and decided to do what she always did in the face of crisis; she had pitched in.

Only now, two hours and thirteen minutes after the explosion, there was nothing to do.  Everyone had had their share of the water and her students, current and former, were all with their families.  The group had grown subdued and although they still milled about some no one was talking much.  Fatigue and worry showed in everyone's expressions.

Heather closed her eyes, resting for a moment.  She fanned herself, rather ineffectually with just her hand.  It was then that she heard something, the 'jack hammer sound' her city girl brain identified, though she knew it must be some sort of drilling equipment she couldn't name.  The sound grew louder and the crowd became more animated.  Heather took a few steps forward, but was unwilling to push her way into the large knot of people, so she stayed to the back.  The noise was unmistakable now.  Rock was breaking away, tumbling down, and then a cheer went up from those in front, followed by a blessedly cooling draft, the first truly fresh air they had all experienced in more than two hours.

"All right, everyone, you're gonna to be okay."

Heather smiled, recognizing her brother-in-law's voice.  She knew then that they would be fine, but it was the sound of her husband speaking a few seconds later that offered her true comfort, despite the mundane quality of his words.

"Okay, we have food and water," he told the crowd, which was already surging forward, everyone eager to abandon the mine.  "There are vehicles waiting for you guys to take you to the clinic, all right," Jake continued, his tone both soothing and authoritative.  "Nice and slow," he urged as he moved through the throng.  "File out, these guys'll help you.  Listen, you're okay."

"Women and children first," Eric declared, but Heather could see that no one was listening. 

Then Jake was there, easing his way through the crowd, all headed the other way, to the outside.  There eyes met, gazes locking, and he smiled at her, his gentlest smile, the one, Heather thought, that she might just love the best.  "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern furrowing his brow.

Heather grinned tiredly in return, nodding her head.  "I think so," she answered, somewhat breathless. 

Jake pulled her into a fierce hug almost before the words were out of her mouth.  "I love you," her murmured against the top of her head, which he tucked against his chest. "I shouldn't have left you here, I'm sorry," he told her, running his hands over her arms and down her back, checking her, Heather realized, for injuries.

"I'm fine," she told him, clutching his t-shirt.  "I'm fine," Heather repeated.  "Still have a broken leg, but I'm fine."  She pulled away a few inches, all that he would allow, and looked up at him.  "I love you, too," she murmured as his mouth captured hers.

"I shouldn't have left you here," Jake said again when they pulled apart.  He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.  "Next time -"

"Next time, there's no way I'm following you into a salt mine," Heather interrupted, grinning.  "I love you, but there are limits," she told him chuckling.  "This is going to have to be a once in a lifetime experience."  She groaned, scratching the back of one hand with the other.  "I'm completely itchy!"

Laughing, Jake held Heather loosely against himself.  "Next time April wants to do something completely nepotistic, will you please just let her?" he requested, kissing her forehead.  He laughed again, making a face.  "Your head's all salty," he told her.

"Go figure," Heather returned, rolling her eyes.  "Look, Jake," she sighed, "April wasn't -"  She cut herself off, recognizing the dismayed look that crossed his face.  Something brushed against her rear, and she tried to turn around, but Jake took a step back, pulling her with him.

"Gray, what happened?" Jake demanded. 

Heather twisted her head to see what was going on, and gasped at the sight of Gray and Shep carrying a limp Scott Rennie past them.

"He's dead."

"What?" Heather looked up at Jake.  "That doesn't make any sense!" she protested.

* * * * *

Jake and Heather caught a ride back to the medical center with one of the volunteers, both glad that they didn't have to ride the school bus again.  When they arrived at the clinic, Jake walked in with Heather, refusing to leave her this time even though she told him he could go ahead.  The clinic was a madhouse and Jake held onto her free hand, helping her thread her way through the mass of people, until they finally found April.

"Hey," Jake greeted his sister-in-law.  "How's Stanley?"

April, in the middle of trying to do three things at once, didn't answer immediately.  She gave a verbal order to one nurse, and then signed an order, handing the chart she was looking at back to another.  "Uh, we're still watching him," she told him finally.

"Where is he?" Jake inquired.

April was moving again, striding down the hall, Jake and Heather trying to follow her through the crowd.  "We had to isolate him," she explained, shouting back over her shoulder.

"Where?" Jake asked, "Where is he?"  April pointed out a door at the end of the cross corridor.  "Thanks," he said, already heading for the room she'd indicated. 

Heather started to go after him, but April stopped her.  "Uh, I need to borrow Heather for a minute," she called to Jake.

"I'll catch up with you," Heather offered.

"Okay," Jake agreed, coming back to kiss her quickly before turning back down the hallway. 

Heather waited while April consulted with yet another nurse and then scribbled out a quick prescription.  "Are you sure you need me now?" she asked, looking up and down the corridor.  The evacuees from the mine were being run through a quick triage before being sent home.  "April, there are a lot of people waiting," Heather reminded.

"Yeah," April agreed.  "But look," she said, her tone hushed, "Stanley was out in the rain for at least twenty minutes."  Grabbing Heather by the sleeve, she added, "Come to my office for a minute." 

April didn't say anything else until they were both in her office, the door closed.  They faced one another over April's messy desk.  "We're observing Stanley for signs of radiation poisoning," she continued as if there had been no interruption in the flow of their conversation.   "I have no idea what his exposure level was.  So, it's probably not a good idea for you to be around Stanley until we have a better idea about his condition."

"Yeah, right," Heather agreed, sighing.  "Do you think - God, if Stanley gets sick."  She couldn't bring herself to finish her statement; the idea was too horrible to contemplate. 

April nodded, her grim expression mirroring Heather's.  "I'm gonna keep him for the rest of the afternoon," she explained.  "If he seems okay, well, we'll just go from there."  April made a half turn in her rolling desk chair, retrieving two items from the floor beside her desk.  "Here," she said, handing Heather her backpack, "Somebody went through your bus this morning, dropped this off here.  And, this," she continued, placing a drawstring plastic bag that was embossed with 'Jericho Medical' on the desk, "Has your clothes.  I know you said to chuck 'em, but with the way things are...."

"Yeah, it's probably going to be awhile before any of us will be hitting the mall again, huh?" Heather observed.  She searched the front pocket of her backpack, producing a set of keys with a flourish.  "Well, I can get my car back now at least," she declared, standing so that she could put the keys in her pants pocket.  "Thanks," she added, unzipping the main compartment of the backpack to shove the bag of clothing inside.   "I should let you get back to work."

"No rest for the wicked, I guess," April grumbled, also standing.  "Look, as your doctor, I'm giving you the following orders:  Find Jake, go home, and get some sleep."

Heather yawned.  "Sounds good to me," she answered.  "But I want a shower first."

"Put a garbage bag around your cast," April reminded, opening her office door.  She waited while Heather retrieved her backpack and crutch, and then escorted her out.  "Gail and Johnston are here, too," she told Heather.  "Dad's come down with some bug, but it doesn't seem to be catching.  They're in exam three."

"Thanks," Heather acknowledged.  An orderly called for April, and she was just about to follow when Heather stopped her.  "April, I want to know.  What happened to Scott Rennie?"

April frowned.  "It looks like he had a heart attack," she answered finally, shrugging.  "I'm sorry," she added, squeezing Heather's arm.  "I have to go."

"Yeah, okay," Heather nodded.  It didn't make sense to her, but she was too tired to figure out what it was exactly that was bothering her.  April had disappeared from sight already, and Heather decided to put the matter aside for now and take her sister-in-law's advice.  She would find Jake and convince him that it was, finally, time to go home.

Heather ran into her husband a minute later.  "Hey, you," he greeted, offering her a lopsided smile.

"Hey, yourself," she returned.  "How's Stanley?"

"Making Spider Man jokes," he told her.  "Bonnie and I are pretty sure he's going to live.  What'd April want?"

She showed him her backpack, and Jake took it from her automatically, drawing a giggle from Heather.  She had long ago given into what she considered to be Jake's 'chivalrous gestures', but they still amused her on occasion.  "Thank you," she grinned.  "Somebody went through the bus this morning, and left my things with April.  So now," she continued, "I have my car keys.  We're not expecting another storm, or a plague of locusts, anything like that, for the rest of the day, are we?"

"God, I hope not," Jake declared, shouldering her backpack.

"Well then, I want a shower and a nap, and since April says your parents are here - your Dad's come down with some sort of bug?"

"The flu," he supplied, as they started walking together down the corridor.

"Huh, she told me he wasn't contagious," Heather reported, shaking her head.  "Anyway, maybe your Mom will be willing to drive us over to the school to get my car?  I really just want to go home," she admitted with a tired smile.  "Take a shower, go to bed."

He put an arm around her shoulder, half-hugging her.  "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, kissing the top of her head.  Her hair was full of dust, but he didn't say anything about it this time.  "I need to talk to Dad about something anyway," Jake told her.  He knew that he also needed to talk to Heather about his plans for an information scouting trip, and sooner rather than later. But, Jake found that he couldn't bring himself to tell her yet, not when he'd already broken the promise he'd made her the night before once; not now that he was planning to break that promise again.

They entered his father's hospital room just in time to hear Johnston claim, "I can run this town without my pants."

"It wouldn't be the first time," his mother agreed amiably, a clear sign, Jake thought, that she had the upper hand in the current situation.  Still, his father cleared his throat, emitting a harrumphing noise that Jake interpreted to mean 'Damn straight!'

"All right," Jake interrupted, drawing the attention of both his parents to the door.  He glanced at Heather, who was trying not to laugh.  "That's a story I never want to hear," he told them, shaking his head.

"Oh, sweetheart!  Honey!" Gail exclaimed, abandoning Johnston's side for the moment.  "How are you feeling?" she demanded, throwing her arms around them both.

"My leg's a little sore," Jake admitted.  "It's nothing, really."

"Heather?" Gail prompted, taking a step back to look them both over.

"I'm fine," she assured.  "Tired and dirty and itchy," she chuckled softly, "And, I never want to see the inside of that salt mine again.  I can't imagine what'd be like to work there everyday."

"I can't imagine what'd be like to work for Gray Anderson everyday," Johnston interjected before giving into a coughing fit.

"That, too," Heather agreed, nodding.

Gail returned to her husband's side, helping him to sit up, and then rubbing his back while he continued to wheeze and hack, trying to catch his breath.  "Your father has the flu," she announced.

"It's nothin'," he protested, panting.

"Did you hear that Mr. Rennie died?" Jake asked, glancing sideways at Heather.  He knew that she was upset by what had happened, and she had told him twice during their trip from the mine to the clinic that it didn't make any sense, that Scott Rennie had been having a panic attack one minute and was dead the next.

"That's terrible," Johnston muttered.

"April says he had a heart attack," Heather offered, frowning.  "But, I don't know."

"Oh, honey," Gail clucked, "I know that you worked with Mr. Rennie, and that you're upset, but I'm sure April's right."

No one said anything for a moment, an awkward silence growing in the room.  "I've been thinking," Jake started, deciding that a subject change was in order.  "More than anything, this town needs information," he told them, reaching for Heather's hand. "We could organize a group of people.  Send them out in every direction."

"I don't think anyone should be leaving Jericho!" his mother objected immediately.

"We have to," Jake contended.  "We can't just sit here in the dark."

"He's right," Johnston interjected softly, before his wife could launch into the rant he knew was coming.  "Makes us too vulnerable," he added, clearing his throat.

Jake nodded, grateful for his father's support of the plan.  He hadn't been sure that Johnston would go for it after their argument, over the radio, earlier in the day.  "I'll get it organized."

"You're going to go," Heather said, looking up at him.  Her lips were pressed tightly together, her eyes narrow.  He wasn't sure whether she was worried, or just spitting mad.  "You haven't been home even twenty-four hours - you haven't actually even been home - and you're planning to leave again," she accused.

"Heather, it's my idea," he argued.

She looked away, ignoring him, addressing his mother.  "Gail.  My car's still at the school," she said, a hint of a sob straining her voice.  "Do you think you could give me a ride over there?"

Gail glanced between her son and daughter-in-law, unsure of how to proceed.  "Sure, honey.  Of course," she answered at last, turning to retrieve her purse.

Jake had held fast to Heather's hand, despite her best efforts to pull away.  "Give us a minute, Mom," he requested, forcing Heather to follow him out into the corridor, and closing the door behind them.  Gail and Johnston both watched through the room's observation window as they stepped across the hall, and faced one another, clearly in a heated, if whispered, conversation.

Gail only managed one step forward before Johnston laid a gentle hand on her arm.  "Abigail," he exhaled, disapproving.  "It's bad enough they have to fight this out right now, in public.  They don't need you listening in.  Turn around," he directed a few seconds later.  "This has been a long time coming.  Give 'em their privacy."

"A long time coming?" Gail repeated, facing him.  "What do you mean by that, Johnston Green?"

Johnston closed his eyes, sitting back on the hospital bed.  He'd protested loudly when April had insisted that he needed to be in it, but now he was just a little bit grateful.  "You and I both know that the biggest part of marriage is compromise.  Jake married that girl, and somehow managed to never compromise a thing.  He's still in and out of Jericho as he pleases -"

"That's his job, Johnston," Gail disputed, crossing her arms.

"He didn't have to keep that job.  He doesn't have to be chasing all over the world, after God knows what," Johnston argued.  "Jake could do anything he wanted.  He's got more potential, more natural ability, than any ten other people I know.  He always has had.  He could've done a hundred different things, once he married Heather."

Gail shook her head sadly.  "Why don't you ever tell him that?" she demanded.

"Abigail."

"Don't call me 'Abigail'," she grumbled.  "That's one of our compromises," she reminded.

"Yes, ma'am." 

Whatever else Johnston was going to say in response was cut off by a knock at the door, followed by Jake sticking his head in two seconds later.  "Mom, are you ready?" he asked wearily. 

"Of course," Gail answered.  Just give me a moment."

Jake nodded, and closed the door behind him.  They watched as he walked back to where Heather now stood, leaning against the opposite wall.  He joined her, reaching for her fisted hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles one by one.  Heather relaxed her hand somewhat reluctantly, and he was able to lace their fingers together, their hands dropping, still connected, between them.  "I'm sorry," they saw him say, reading his lips.

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

Saturday, October 13, five years before the bombs

"What's up with Heather?" Stanley repeated, "And me?"  He watched Jake carefully, taking in just how incensed his friend really was.  Jake Green had never thrown a punch at him, but Stanley couldn't help but think that might soon change.

"Yes, what's up with you and Heather," Jake repeated.  "Are you two dating?"

"What?  She's Bonnie's teacher," Stanley answered, deciding to play dumb.  He was willing to risk getting into a fist fight with Jake to get to the bottom of his friend's feelings for Heather Lisinski.

"Heather teaches third grade," Jake argued, taking an agitated step towards Stanley.  "Bonnie's in the sixth."

"Yeah," Stanley agreed.  "But she's also been working with Bonnie.  Look," he said, chuckling humorlessly, "That school's full of fossils.  Except for Heather, all the teachers are the same ones we had, and they were old when we were there.  They won't let Bonnie take gym," Stanley reminded, shaking his head.  "And, I get that, the whole thing about how she can't play on a team, or she could get hit in the head by a ball because she wouldn't hear someone yelling a warning.  That's fine," he claimed, though his tone said otherwise.  "But, this year, Mrs. Walker - you remember Mrs. Walker?"

Jake nodded.  "Yeah.  She hasn't retired yet?"

Stanley snorted.  "Apparently, the retirement age at Jericho Elementary is a hundred," he complained.  "Anyway, Mrs. Walker won't let Bonnie stay in the classroom when the rest of the kids go to gym.  And, the gym teacher won't let Bonnie come sit and watch the rest of the class play, so she has to go to the library, and just sit by herself.  Like she isn't stuck in her own world too much as it is," he finished, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"That's ridiculous," Jake muttered.  He backed off a step, apparently willing to hear Stanley out.  Stanley breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe Jake wasn't planning to hit him after all.

"So, the third day of school this year, I get a call from a Miss Lisinski, asking if she can come out to the farm for a parent-teacher conference.  I just figured she was the new special ed teacher from the county.  The one from last year's supposed to be on maternity leave right now.  Anyway," Stanley continued, "Heather comes out, introduces herself, and we talk, get it straight who I am." 

"Right," Jake grinned knowingly.  To say that Bonnie had been a surprise baby was an understatement.  He could still remember the horrified look on Stanley's face the day he found out at fifteen that he was no longer going to be an only child.  Jake could still hear him saying, absolutely mortified, 'This means my parents have sex!'  Of course, Stanley had adored his sister from the moment of her birth, but he'd also had a hard time over the years with the assumptions of tut-tutting strangers that he was her teen-aged father. 

"Well, Heather had taken her class to the library because she wanted them to do book reports, and she found Bonnie there.  So, she talks to Bonnie, to the librarian, to Mrs. Walker, and gets the whole story.  She was incensed, madder about it than me, really," Stanley admitted, a sheepish expression crossing his face.  "And so, she came out to ask me if it would be all right for Bonnie to come to her classroom instead, as like a teacher's aide, during gym class."

"That all sounds like a good idea," Jake agreed.  "Doesn't quite explain why she's fixing your tractor," he reminded, staring at Stanley, arms crossed.

"You really do like her," Stanley murmured, shaking his head in wonder.  "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for you and any woman who isn't Emily Sullivan.  I'm just not used to the idea," he explained, grinning.  "Emily's had you wrapped around her little finger since we were twelve years old.  All she's ever had to do is say 'jump', and you say 'how high, and do you want me to stand on my head, too?'" Stanley grumbled, rolling his eyes.  "It's never mattered how many times she dumped you, broken your heart, you've always taken her back when she was ready."

"I've dated other girls besides Emily," Jake protested.  "I'm not -"

"Completely whipped?" Stanley supplied, smirking.  "And, these mythical other girls are?" he challenged. 

"In college," Jake countered.  "I went out with other girls in college, and in California.  Nicole, Liz, Kara," he named.

"Doesn't count," Stanley declared.  "You've never been able to get past Emily, not when you're in Jericho.  You come home, you're here for five seconds, which is all the time Emily needs, 'cause she's got 'Jake radar', and then you fall right back in with her."

"Well, that's not gonna happen anymore," Jake reminded Stanley, looking away.  "Emily hates my guts now."

Heather appeared in the barn door then, calling to them, and waving.  "Are you guys coming in?  I'm a total rabbit novice.  I need advice," she laughed.

"Give us a minute," Stanley yelled.  "We're discussing, uh, crop rotation."

"Okay," she laughed again, shaking her head.  Even across the fifty or so yards between them Jake was sure he could make out her disbelieving expression.  "Sounds fascinating," Heather shouted, turning around to go back inside.

"Crop rotation?" Jake questioned, once she'd disappeared from sight.  "How is that even believable?  What do I know about crop rotation?"

Stanley shrugged.  "You were a 'Future Farmer'," he reminded.  "And, you seem to know at least a little about everything else in the world.  You're the closest thing Jericho has to a resident genius."  He paused, thinking for a moment.  "That does explain you and Heather, though.  She's really too smart for Jericho, too."

"I've only known her for a day - not even - eighteen hours," Jake responded.  "There isn't a 'Heather and me'."

"But you do like her," Stanley prompted quietly.  "And, you wouldn't mind being an 'us' with her."  Jake didn't answer, and Stanley allowed a low whistle.  "That bad, huh?" he muttered.  "She's worth it, Jake.  But don't go after her unless you mean it," he warned.  "If you're just messin' with her, I'd have to beat you up."

"And, you're sure you're not dating her?" Jake returned, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the turn of their conversation, though he knew that he was the one who started it.  "Are you sure you don't want to date her?"  Stanley started to blush, and Jake accused, "You did date Heather!"

"One date," Stanley conceded.  "And, like an hour and a half in, she told me, very nicely, that I reminded her of her brother.  She's got four of them," he added, "So I guess it wasn't that unlikely."  Stanley shrugged.  "I think Heather's great," he told Jake.  "One of my top ten favorite people of all time, given everything she's done for Bonnie, building her confidence, getting her actually tutoring younger kids.  But," he admitted, "There really wasn't any chemistry between us."

Jake nodded, accepting Stanley's assurances.  "You know, she does kind of remind me of your cousin Megan.  I mean, they look nothing alike, but personality and attitude-wise?"

"Yes!" Stanley declared, a look of relief washing over him.  "Exactly!  I knew there was something about her.  Kissing Heather'd be like kissing Megan!" he crowed.

"Sshh!" Jake shushed Stanley, groaning.  "She's not Bonnie," he reminded.  "She can hear you."   He frowned at his friend then, glaring.  "You kissed Heather?"

"No," Stanley answered, rolling his eyes.  "You don't kiss a girl who's already told you that you're like a brother."

"Right," Jake agreed absently.  "That makes sense."  He nodded, and Stanley could almost see the gears whirling around inside his head.  He knew that Jake was trying to assimilate everything he'd learned in the last few minutes, to make sense of it all.  "Where'd you take her?" Jake asked suddenly, pinning Stanley with a glance.

"What?" Stanley asked.  He had already taken a step toward the barn, figuring that their conversation, for now, was over.  "What?" he repeated.

Jake expelled the breath he'd been holding.  "Where did you take her?" he questioned again.  "If I ask her out, I'm not taking her to the same place you did."

That at least, Stanley thought, made sense.  And, he was relieved to see that Jake was actually planning to follow through on something.  The Jake Green he'd grown up with would have asked Heather out, no question - except for the fact that he'd always been going with Emily.  The Jake Green of the last few months though, he was a different, less confident creature.

"Roma Italia," Stanley said finally, naming the best of Jericho's few restaurants.  "Maybe you had better take her somewhere in Goodland or Rogue River," he suggested.

"I could take her to The Jericho Grille," Jake argued.  "It's nice.  Good for a first date, I guess."

"Yeah, but it's really bright in there," Stanley reminded.  "Italia Roma, it has more of a subdued atmosphere, romantic."  He met Jake's eye then, recognizing the hostility that had crept back into his friend's glare.  "What?  I didn't actually kiss her," he defended himself.

"But you were planning to," Jake accused.

Stanley rolled his eyes.  "Well, duh," he agreed.  They both took a few more steps toward the barn before, this time, Stanley stopped Jake.  "One more thing," he said, his voice low.  "When you do take her out, you'd better tell her everything," he advised, throwing his friend a significant look. "And, I mean everything."

"I'm under a gag order from a federal judge," Jake reminded.  "That's not something you mess around with."

"She's not a reporter, Jake," Stanley protested.  "She's trustworthy, which you've already figured out," he reminded.  "But, she knows Emily."  Stanley let the words hang between them for a moment, wanting Jake to realize the seriousness of the situation.  He loved Jake like a brother, and while he hadn't considered him for Heather before they'd appeared before him together a half hour before, now he couldn't help but see it as a great idea. 

"I don't think they're friends, or anything like that," he continued.  "But they are the only two new teachers in Jericho in like fifty years.  That's gotta be a little bit bonding," Stanley suggested.  "And, I know they met as some mandatory school district training thing."  He sighed.  "I don't trust Emily.  If you start dating Heather, and Emily finds out, she'll do anything she can to sabotage it," he predicted.  "You need to beat her to the punch."

Jake acknowledged Stanley's advice with a nod, but didn't say anything.  The two headed for the barn finally, joining Heather and Bonnie at what had to be the most elaborate and deluxe rabbit pen in the county, and possibly the whole state of Kansas.  It took up an entire corner of the barn, and was, Jake estimated, nearly three hundred square feet in size.  There was no way that anyone seeing it could ever doubt Stanley's devotion to his sister.

Jake, acting more confident than he really felt after his conversation with Stanley, walked up behind Heather, placing both of his hands lightly on her shoulders.  She twitched slightly, almost imperceptibly, and he spoke softly into her ear, asking, "Did I scare you?"

Heather looked back at him over her shoulder, her mouth mere centimeters from his own.  "I have four brothers," she told him, grinning.  "I know better than to ever admit to being scared."

"Well, if I did scare you, I'm sorry," Jake apologized, squeezing her shoulders before removing his hands.  He stepped away, shaking his head to clear it.  He concentrated for the moment on the enclosure, trying to count rabbits, as Bonnie worked inside, diligently struggling to separate the animals into categories that only she truly understood.  Bonnie had allowed the rabbits to mix freely together, and therein seemed to be the problem.  "There are a lot more rabbits here than you took to the fair," Jake observed, shooting Stanley an amused look. 

"Yeah, well, they won't stop breeding," Stanley said with a quick look at his sister.  "We took sixteen to the fair, came home with twenty-two, and now we've got forty-eight," he admitted.  "You wouldn't believe how much I'm spending on alfalfa pellets a month."

"You do know what rabbits did to Australia, right?" Jake questioned.  "You might want to separate them," he suggested.

"Stanley, I can only take one," Heather reminded.  "The janitor'll kill me if I start a rabbit colony at the school."

Jake snorted.  "Then, you're gonna want to pick a male," he advised her, returning to her side, their arms brushing.  "Any of the females could be pregnant."

"Well, that's for damn sure," Stanley grumbled.  "Hey, we've got 'em in every color."  He opened the door to the rabbit pen, and stepped inside.  "What looks good to you?"

"And, you're sure you can tell the difference between the boys and the girls?" Heather demanded. 

Stanley nodded 'yes', and Bonnie stepped forward, holding a fat, contented, sleepy brown rabbit.  "This is Bungee," she announced.  "And, he's definitely a boy."

Heather and Jake exchanged an amused look, and then she said, "Well, Bungee Bunny, I hope you're ready to be the third grade mascot."

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

Different Circumstances: Part 3B of ? by Marzee Doats

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

Thursday, September 21, twenty-one hours after the bombs

"Okay," Jake pronounced, tracing his finger across the map spread out on the pool table he'd commandeered for his mission briefing.   "Abrams, you and Crossfield are taking the northern route, up through Nebraska to the state police barracks in Broken Bow."

"I can go east to Topeka," Gray Anderson suggested, "And connect with the state government."  He looked across the table at Ridley Cooper, a mine employee he'd strong-armed into helping out after Jake had announced his plan to the patrons at Bailey's Tavern.  "Ridley can head west to Denver, or what's left of it," he offered.

Jake looked at the other man.  He didn't know him; most of the management at the salt mine were brought in from outside Jericho, at Gray's insistence.  Only the line employees were Jericho natives.  "You'll probably run into FEMA, and a ring of EMS people before you even get within sight of the city," he explained, watching Ridley.  "See what they know."

"And what about you?" Gray demanded.

"He's going to Wichita with me," Emily Sullivan supplied, joining the group around the pool table.

Jake exhaled deeply, nodding.  "That's right," he agreed with a sideways glance at his former flame.  "Emily and I are taking the southern route to Wichita."

Gray looked amused.  "What's your wife think of that?" he asked, a little too interested. 

Jake ignored him.  The one thing that didn't appear to be bothering Heather at the moment was his admission that Emily Sullivan wanted to accompany him to Wichita.  He supposed there was a limit to exactly how mad you could be at another person, and Heather had already hit that before he'd told her about Emily.  He looked around the bar, trying to find his wife, but wherever she was, it wasn't in his line of sight.

He had accompanied Heather and his mother to the school to retrieve Heather's car, and then driven back with her to the ranch.  Aside from an initial squabble over who would drive, which he'd won because she was tired and still getting used to her cast, they hadn't spoken the entire trip home, not until he'd turned the Trailblazer onto the Green Ranch Road.

"When are you leaving?" she had asked, staring out the window rather than looking at him. 

"It depends on how long it takes to round up volunteers," Jake had admitted.  "I'm gonna go back to town in a little bit.  If I can get it organized, then this evening," he'd told her.  "Otherwise, tomorrow sometime." 

She had turned toward him then, her eyes bright.  "I want to go -"

Jake, who'd already been driving slowly on the rutted farm road, had stopped the car.  "Heather," he'd protested.

"Not on your road trip, Jake," she had grumbled, shaking her head, looking away again.  "Just back to town with you," she'd told him, sniffling.  "Until you leave."

"Okay."  That one word had stuck in his throat, and he hadn't been able to say anything else, or even turn the car back on.  It was, he'd realized, the closest thing to absolution he was likely to get, and certainly more than he deserved.  "Stanley saw a line of tanks out on I-70 this morning, when he was out in the storm," Jake had started, when he'd finally felt like he could talk again.  He felt compelled to explain himself, to try and win her support.  "Dad thinks it was the National Guard Unit out of Goodland."

"No," Heather had interrupted, shaking her head.  "That unit deployed to Iraq in April," she'd told him, meeting his eye once more.  "One of my kid's last year," she'd clarified, chewing her lip, "Her dad was in that unit.  Divorced parents, so she only saw him on weekends, if that, but she was still a completely different child once he was gone."

Jake had sighed uneasily, more than a little discomfited by this news.   "The plan is to go to Goodland, then on to Wichita."  He'd waited a moment, not wanting to give her another reason to be upset, but also not wanting to give her another reason to think he was withholding information.  "Emily wants to come along," he'd admitted. "Roger was supposed to fly into Wichita last night, and she wants to look for him.  She's threatening to go on her own if I don't take her along, so I said she could come."

Heather had snorted at that, rubbing her eye tiredly with the heel of her hand.  "I'm not jealous of Emily Sullivan, Jake," she'd said, shaking her head.  "I know that half the people in Jericho thinks I should be, and that I'm crazy, 'cause I'm not."  She sighed.  "But I'm really not."

"You have no reason to be," he had assured her quietly, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture he always fell back on when he was unsure of his reception.  "No reason whatsoever."

"I know," Heather had smiled wanly.  She'd caught his hand, as it had brushed the side of her face, cradling it in both her own.  "You're not fickle," she'd told him, "And, I'm the one you married."

"Yes, you are," he'd murmured in return.  They had stared at one another for a few more seconds, and then Jake had reluctantly pulled his hand from hers.  He'd restarted the car, and they had continued on to the house. 

The truce they had come to in the car had lasted long enough for Heather to take a shower, while Jake settled for sponging off at the sink.  They'd both changed clothes, Jake had packed a bag, and they had been on their way back to Jericho in just under an hour, still too wary of one another to risk talking about any subject except the most mundane, but otherwise in accord.  For Jake, for the moment, it was good enough.

"All right," Gray drawled, realizing finally that he wasn't going to get the answer he was fishing for, "Let's try to radio back as much information as possible along the way."

"That's the plan," Jake agreed, shooting Gray an appraising look.  "Hit the major cities in each direction - north, south, east and west."

"The four horsemen of the apocalypse," Gray joked sourly, peering over the map again. 

Jake's stomach turned over at the thought.  "Let's hope not," he pronounced.

The group had broken up then, each having something he needed to do before proceeding.  Jake looked around for Heather, drawing near the bar, where his brother was arguing with Mary Bailey.  "Where's Heather?" he asked.

Mary looked relieved to have an excuse to ignore Eric, and she answered Jake before he could say anything else.  "Restroom," she told him.  "She should be out in a -"

A picture suddenly blipped across the TV hanging over the bar, bringing nearly all conversation to an instantaneous halt.  The video was fuzzy and intermittent, the audio incomprehensible, and it took Jake a moment to recognize any of what he was seeing and hearing.  Heather appeared at his side then, and she tucked herself under his arm, clutching his hand while they all stared at the screen, dumbstruck.  Newscasters in suits flashed across the monitor, and then a map of the United States, animated with bomb cartoons. 

The picture faded out into static.  "We're losing the feed," Eric yelled.  "Bring it back!"

Mary grabbed the radio she'd been using to direct the volunteers who were on the roof, trying to adjust the satellite dish.  "Go back!" she shouted.  "We had something."

Jake, holding his breath, watched to see if the transmission would come back, but after nearly a minute, with Eric yelling at Mary, and Mary yelling at the guys on the roof, still all they had was static. 

"Oh, God," he heard Heather whisper, just under his ear.  "New York."

He looked down at her, taking in her suddenly pale complexion, her wide eyes.  "What?" Jake demanded.

"New York City had a bomb on the map," Heather told him, her voice shaky.  "Michigan - Detroit, too, I think.  That's four - I think, four - hours from home," she closed her eyes, trying to remember what she'd seen.  "The City's nearly seven from Buffalo," Heather continued, only managing a loud whisper.  "But, New Haven, that's not even two hours from Manhattan.  Mikey," she murmured, invoking her younger brother's name.

"Babe, we don't know anything yet," Jake reminded, grasping Heather by both shoulders.  "And, two hours is good.  We're three hours to Denver, and we're good," he reminded.  "Two hours is good."

"It's nearly three hundred miles to Denver," Heather argued, her expression crumbling.  "There's only a hundred, maybe, between New Haven and New York."

Jake led her to the nearest table forcing her into a chair.  "It doesn't mean anything, not yet," he told Heather, squatting next to her.  He looked around the crowded bar; everyone was reacting, and he recognized that the situation could very easily spiral out of control.  "Heather!  Look," he said, turning his full attention back on his wife.  "Can you remember what you saw on the map?"

"Somewhere in Texas, Los Angeles," Heather answered, taking a gulping, shaky breath.

"Okay," Jake nodded.  "That's good.  And, it might not be true, okay?  Remember, it might not be true," he said, squeezing her hand, "But, we still need to get down what the TV showed."   Jake sighed, shaking his head.  "If I give you a map, can you put down what you saw?"

She nodded, taking another deep breath, and Jake turned, jogging back to the pool table, where he grabbed the Continental U.S. road map he'd liberated from her car a half hour earlier.  "Here," he said a few seconds later, handing it to her.  "Mary," he called out, getting the other woman's attention. "We need a pen or something."

Mary came out from behind the bar, pulling writing implements out of her apron.  "Here," she offered breathlessly.  "Do you need help?"

"Yeah," Jake accepted for Heather, rubbing her shoulders.  He glanced around again.  The crowd was becoming more and more restless, people were arguing, starting to yell.  He knew that someone needed to take control of the situation now.  "Look, I need to -"

"Go," Heather interrupted.  She looked up at him, trying to force a smile.  "I'm okay, just go."

Jake turned around again, sprinting into the open space between the bar and the game room.  "Everybody, calm down!" he ordered, looking over the agitated group.  "We just need to stay calm, and work together," he told them.

Eric seemed to suddenly remember that he was deputy mayor, and he joined his brother in the center of the room.  "Jake's right, we need to do this calmly and systematically."  Jake took that as his cue to back off for the moment, and he moved to the side, sitting down on a step.  "First, was that Korean," Eric asked, looking around the bar.  "Does anyone know?"

Jake looked up from his seat.  "Think it was Chinese," he answered.

"Mandarin," supplied a man, sitting at the bar.  Jake glanced at him, deciding quickly that he'd never seen him before today.

The crowd started buzzing at the stranger's proclamation, and Jake groaned, frustrated, knowing they were getting off track.  "Question is," he called out, "Were they just reporting it, or are they behind it?"

Eric looked down at his brother.  "Did Stanley say if there were any markings on the side of the tank?" he demanded, as Jake pulled himself up from his spot on the floor and limped to the pool table.  "Maybe we're being invaded."

Jake studied his map of the Plains States for a moment, not bothering to answer his brother's question; not yet ready to tell him what Heather had said about the Goodland National Guard Unit.

"Abram and Crossfield are out," Gray Anderson announced, interrupting Jake's reverie.  "They won't drive into a war zone."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame them," Eric interjected, joining Gray and Jake at the pool table.  "Look, why don't we put this plan on hold right now," he suggested, shrugging.  "We saw one image, we'll probably see another one."

"Going out is more important than ever, all right?" Jake yelled, turning to face his brother.  He stopped, taking a quick breath.  Losing control was not going to help the case he was trying to make.  "If this country is at war, we need to know it," he argued, trying to calm himself.  Jake shook his head, turning back to the map.  "We're moving forward with this, Eric."

Jake and Gray were conferring about who else might be willing to go out on the scouting mission in place of Abram and Crossfield when the stranger from the bar joined their discussion.  "Understand you lost some of your men?" the stranger asked quietly, balancing his drink on the edge of the pool table.

"Yeah," Jake confirmed distractedly, glancing sideways at the stranger.

"If you need a volunteer, I'm available."

Jake looked at the stranger again.  "Thanks, Mr.?"

"Hawkins," the other man introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Mr. Hawkins," Jake greeted, shaking his hand.  "Do you have a family?"

"Two kids," Hawkins allowed.

Jake clapped him on the shoulder.  "I think it's best if we stick to people that don't have families," he explained.

"You have a family, don't you?" Hawkins asked, looking over at the table where Heather and Mary were pouring over the map, checking their own memories of the broadcast, and getting input from others.  "She's your wife?"

"Yes," Jake conceded, exhaling.  The nagging feeling of guilt that he'd managed to keep at bay overwhelmed him for a moment before Jake could manage to shake it off.  "It's different, though," he argued, trying to convince himself as much as Hawkins.  "We don't have kids," he said, "Besides, I'm gone a lot anyway."

"Okay, then," Hawkins shrugged, starting to move away.  "Figured I'd offer."

"Yeah, thanks," Jake responded, not really paying attention.  He'd caught sight of Emily Sullivan, looking rather ill and headed for the exit.  She bumped into one person, and then another, not bothering to apologize to either.  He looked over at Heather, who seemed fine for the moment, and then thinking ruefully that he would probably come to regret his decision, went after Emily. 

* * * * *

Fuming, Heather sat at the bar, staring straight ahead, unwilling to give Gray Anderson the satisfaction of seeing her turn around to watch him go.   Hearing the front door open and close, she slumped on her seat, expelling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  Slowly, she moved off the barstool, scrubbing at her left arm where he'd touched her.  Heather hated Gray Anderson at that moment, hated him for his smarminess, for claiming Scott Rennie as his friend, for the back-handed threat she was sure he'd made.

She returned to the table with her map, and looked it over, trying to distract herself, but it didn't work.  The map just reminded her that she didn't know anything about her family's fate, and that Jake would be leaving, going out into who knew what danger.  Heather dropped the pencil she'd picked up, and leaned back in her chair, shaking her head.  It was all too much.  Even finally figuring out what it was that bothered her about Scott Rennie's death, that Shep and Gray should have called for help, for a nurse or a doctor, didn't make her feel any better.  Rather, she felt worse, remembering just how overwrought Shep had looked. 

Jake slipped into the seat across from Heather, startling her.  She hadn't seen him come back into Bailey's after going after Emily.  "Sorry," he apologized, noting her reaction.  "You okay?" Jake asked when she didn't respond.

Heather nodded, affecting a resolute expression.  "I'm fine," she declared, straightening in her seat.  "I'm tired, and I'm worried, and I'm mad," she admitted, glaring softly at him, "But I'm fine.  What's up with Emily?"

"The good news is, Emily is no longer going with me," Jake offered, propping himself over the table on both elbows, watching her closely.  "The bad news is that she's sure Roger's dead.  She thinks she saw Wichita on the broadcast."

"It's not," Heather contradicted, checking the map.  "Look," she insisted, pointing at all of southeast Kansas.  "I didn't see it, and nobody else did either."

"Yeah, well, she's convinced herself of it," Jake muttered.  "She also said that I'm the one who should be dead, not him."  He sighed.  "It's always been a zero sum game with Emily."

Heather chuckled humorlessly. "It's not exactly a surprise that Emily Sullivan is self-centered and bitchy," she reminded, rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily.  "I didn't tell you this, but last month she asked me if we were getting divorced."

Jake stared, open-mouthed, at Heather.  "Wow," was all he could manage when he finally did speak.

"That's Emily for you," Heather shrugged.  "She'd probably had a fight with Roger that morning, and was trying to make herself feel better by making me feel bad.  I think I said something like, 'Huh, all that time, half-naked in Hawaii with Jake, divorce just didn't come up.'"

Jake laughed out loud.  It was so unlike Heather to say something like that, especially without turning crimson.  Anything that could possibly be construed as even the mildest innuendo usually left her tongue-tied.  He was a little bit astounded.  "How'd she take that?" he asked, grinning.

"Who knows?" Heather giggled, a touch of red finally staining her cheeks.  "I'm sure she didn't know before that moment that we'd met up for vacation.  She probably never even noticed that I was out of town for the entire month of July," she added, rolling her eyes.   "And, I didn't stick around to find out what she thought, honestly.  She'd cornered me coming out of the restroom at the superintendent's luncheon.  We were sitting at different tables.  That's all we said to each other there, and I actually haven't talked to her since.  No reason to."

"Yeah," Jake nodded, still smiling absently.  "No reason.  So," he continued, "Are we getting divorced?"

Heather let out an exasperated sigh.  "Sorry, mister, I'm not that mad at you," she told him.  "Jake?" Heather inquired a few seconds later, her tone turning serious.  "How soon do you have to leave?"

"Pretty soon," he admitted.  "Gray's organizing supplies over at town hall with Eric and Dad.  Once that's taken care of, we'll all be taking off."

Heather stood up from the table, holding her free hand out to him.  Jake scrambled to his feet, giving her his hand.  "Come with me," she instructed.

Silently, Jake followed Heather into the back of the bar, and into the women's restroom.  Heather let go of his hand in order to lock the door, then turned to face him.  Jake stood, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised questioningly, watching her.  "We haven't made out in the ladies room at Bailey's since we first got married," he teased.

"And, we're not going to now," Heather retorted, obviously fighting a smile.  "I'm in a cast, and I'm still a little bit mad at you, Jake Green," she complained.

"Right," he acknowledged.  "So, are you taking me hostage?"

"No," she chuckled.  "I'm - Look, I get why you're doing this, Jake, I really do.  I get why it's important, maybe vital," Heather told him, frowning.  She shoved her hands in her pockets, and looked down, concentrating her attention on her cast and brace.  "And, I feel selfish for minding, I feel selfish because you're not in possession of all the facts, I just feel generally selfish, so in the interest of full disclosure -"

"Heather," he interrupted gently.  He moved a step closer, and cupping her chin with his hand, made her look up at him. "What is it?"

Licking her lips, Heather faced him, her expression guarded.  "I'm pregnant."

His hand dropped from her face.  "Pregnant," he repeated, shock tingeing his tone.

"Kind of a surprise, huh?"  Heather laughed nervously, but her eyes were suddenly animated.  "I know we only said that we'd let nature take it's course, and it hasn't been that long, especially since we've hardly seen one another this year, let alone -"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jake demanded, hurt sounding in his voice.  "Hawaii was nearly three months ago.   You must've known -"

"No!" Heather protested, her eyes widening with dismay.  "No, Jake, I really didn't.  Monday.  I've only known since Monday," she told him.  She started to reach for his hand, but then pulled back, biting her lip, obviously unsure.  "Jake, oh God," Heather sighed.  "I didn't keep this from you, I swear."

They stared at one another for a long, silent moment, each trying to read the other.  Heather felt miserable.  She had long imagined the moment when she would tell Jake he was going to be a father, way before she had started hinting that she wanted to start their family, even before they were married.   But, she thought ruefully, in all her daydreaming she'd never put them in the bathroom at Bailey's with Jake hurt by her news and about to leave town.  On top of the rest of the nightmare they were already suddenly living in, she thought, this was the worst possible scenario.

"I'm just a dork," she told him quietly, trying not to cry.  "I only went off the pill in June," Heather reminded him, frowning, "And, I thought it took time to wear off, which apparently it doesn't."  She sighed, looking away for a second, down at her feet again.  "It's not like I've been sick," she said, meeting his gaze once more.  "Just really tired," Heather admitted, a frustrated chuckle escaping her.  "Plus, I've had to pee a lot, and, I guess I'm a little more emotional than's normal, so maybe I should have realized."

"Heather," Jake stepped toward her again, reaching for her hand.  She recognized the relief in his expression, and his intent to pull her into his arms.  She stopped him.

"Wait, Jake, please," she requested.  "I just want to explain," Heather told him, and Jake nodded, squeezing her fingers.  "I wasn't sick," she repeated, "And, I thought I was just tired from the start of the new school year, and everything.  It never occurred to me," she shrugged.  "But then, Sunday night at your parents, your Mom made pork chops.  They've never been my favorite," Heather reminded, grimacing, "But suddenly, that smell.  It was awful.  I barely made it to the bathroom in time."

"April followed me," Heather continued, a soft smile touching her lips.  Jake took a half step closer, still not embracing her, but leaving less than an inch between them.  She could feel the heat radiating off of his body, the warmth of his breath on her cheek.  "She started asking me all these questions, medical and otherwise," Heather explained, blushing.  "We're both sitting on the floor of the downstairs bathroom at your parents, and April tells me that I'm pregnant.  I really didn't believe her," she laughed softly.  "I always figured when it happened that I'd instinctively know, but I didn't," Heather admitted.  "She made me promise to come into the clinic after school on Monday, which I did, and she ran a blood test - made the lab tech stay late - and I'm pregnant."

"Oh, babe," he breathed, pulling her, finally, into a fierce hug.  They clung to one another for a long moment, swaying back and forth, holding each other up.  "A kid," he murmured, somehow managing to sound both awed and panicked. He kissed the top of her head.  "Our kid."

"Baby," Heather giggled, pulling back so she could look up at him.  "He or she will be a baby before they're a kid," she reminded.  "Say 'baby'," she demanded.  "I know that I do most of the talking on this particular subject," Heather allowed, "But you never say 'baby', you always say 'kid'."

Jake actually looked flustered by her request, and biting his lip, asked, "Give me a day or two on that one.  I need to work my way up to that."

"Jake!"  Heather complained, exasperated.  "You call me 'babe' all the time.  Change one letter.  Add a syllable.  That's all it takes," she told him, socking him lightly on the shoulder.

"Trust me, there's a big difference," he said, shaking his head.  Heather grumbled in response, and he leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.  "I'm still going to go, Heather," Jake told her a moment later, meeting her gaze.  "I have to.  This doesn't change that.  It probably makes it more important."

"I know," she sighed.  "I wasn't trying to stop you," Heather assured him, smiling wanly.  "I just didn't want you to leave without knowing."

Jake nodded.  "Thank you."  He pressed his mouth to hers then, kissing her deeply, not stopping even when she dropped her crutch, which hit him in the thigh as it clattered to the ground.  When they pulled apart, finally, reluctantly, they were both breathing hard.  Jake retrieved Heather's crutch, and handing it to her, smiled sweetly, causing her heart to beat just a little faster.  "I love you, babe," he told her, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger before pushing it behind her ear.  "And our kid."

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

Saturday, October 13, five years before the bombs

Bungee had been separated from the rest of his clan, and Bonnie hadn't protested his isolation in the portable cage too much, giving in completely when Heather reminded her that she'd be in trouble if the school was suddenly overrun by rabbits.  Stanley had shown Heather the original rabbit hutch, the one he'd built the year before when Bonnie had come home from her 4-H meeting with the initial pair of rabbits.  It was the right size for two rabbits, and had even worked well, for awhile, after the first litter was born.  It would be downright spacious for Bungee.

"This'll work great," Heather declared, mentally measuring it.  "I'll just have to move the group work table in the back over a foot or two, and there'll be plenty of room.  I'll just go by the hardware store, and find something to go under it."

"Burlap," Stanley recommended.  Turning around he yelled at Jake.  "You doing anything Monday morning?"

Jake had been getting the full history of each rabbit from Bonnie, at least as far as she knew.  While she'd been in the rabbit raising program, Bonnie had followed protocol, keeping the bucks and does separated, and diligently documenting each animal's genealogy.  Now she was letting them mix, with interesting results.  Jake had been following intently, even suggesting name changes for some of the rabbits that made Bonnie laugh, and which she always agreed to. 

He walked over to where Stanley and Heather were looking over the hutch.  "Monday?" he repeated. 

"I'm going to take the rabbit hutch and Bungee to the school on Monday morning," Stanley explained.  "I could use some help getting it on the truck, and then into Heather's classroom."

Jake glanced at Heather, who smiled at him, and knew immediately there was no way he would refuse.  After all, wasn't he looking for any excuse to run into her as it was already?  "Sure," he agreed.  "Though, what's the statute of limitations on detention?  I'm pretty sure I still owe a few at the Elementary," he joked.

"Mrs. Simpson, eighth grade," Stanley groaned knowingly.  "When did she not have you in detention?  I always thought she had a bit of a thing for you, Jake."

"Do not even go there," Jake ordered, shuddering.  "I really wasn't as bad as Stanley would have you believe," he told Heather, who was trying valiantly not to laugh at the two of them.

"So, you're saying that you aren't the bad boy I had you pegged for?" Heather challenged, grinning openly at Jake.  "Too bad."

"I'd think that as a teacher, you wouldn't like the bad boys," Jake teased her boldly.

Heather shook her head 'no'.  "As a teacher, you always want a lot of good kids in your class.  But it's the class clowns, the trouble-makers, the bad boys, that make it exciting," she claimed.  "Always need one or two or them around to keep things interesting."

Stanley, who had been amused by their flirting at first, was growing slightly annoyed.  He'd decided that he was all for a Jake/Heather match, but he didn't need a front row seat to the proceedings.  "Oh, just give him a detention slip already, and be done with it," he complained at Heather, causing her to blush bright red.

"Okay," she said after taking a few seconds to compose herself, "Is there anything else you need from me here?"

Stanley, feeling guilty at the sight of Heather's obvious discomfort, not to mention the glare that Jake had fixed on him, was left with no choice but to apologize.  "That was really obnoxious of me," he told her.  "I'm sorry.  Let me buy you lunch," he offered, prompting another dirty look from Jake.  "By which, I mean that we've got peanut butter or ham at the house," Stanley clarified.  "We've got three kinds of cheese to go with that ham," he added, "Only one of which comes with the slices individually wrapped in cellophane."

Heather giggled nervously, looking finally at Jake for his reaction. "Stay for lunch," he cajoled.  "I'll make him behave," he assured her.

Bonnie, who had observed the entire conversation, and understood almost none of it, also asked Heather to stay for lunch.  "Please stay, Heather.  We made really good chocolate chip cookies."

"Everyone's always getting me with the baked good in this town," she complained genially.  "Okay," Heather sighed, "I can stay for lunch."

Bonnie led the way back to the house, this time walking with her brother, who forced her along faster than she usually would have traveled, wanting to give his friends a few moments alone.  Heather walked beside Jake, feeling his nearness acutely.  She really didn't know what to say to him now, which saddened her.  The night before the conversation had flowed between them effortlessly, and now everything was just awkward.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" Jake asked abruptly, stopping Heather by touching her hand lightly.  "I mean, do you already have plans, or are you available, and of course, interested, in going to dinner?  Tonight?" he added, watching, concerned, as the blood seemed to all drain out of her face.

"What?"  Heather answered, completely inarticulate.  "Tonight?  Dinner?" she repeated, suddenly unable to speak in anything but questions.

Jake nodded.  "Tonight.  Dinner.  With me.  Yes," he explained, feeling himself becoming less than coherent as well.  "I mean, I understand that it's really late notice, and you've probably got plans, but -

"'Are you asking me out?" Heather interrupted.  "This would be a date, right? You're asking me out for date?" she concluded, surprise ringing in her tone.

"God, I hope so," Jake muttered, shaking his head.  He was certain that he'd never had this much difficulty with anything he'd attempted in his life.

"Okay," Heather nodded slowly, gifting him with a bright smile that practically made him dizzy.  "I would love to go out to dinner with you tonight, Jake," she answered shyly.

Jake exhaled deeply.  "Okay, then," he nodded.  "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure," she agreed, emitting a nervous giggle.  He joined her in that, and when he held out his hand to her, Heather accepted it. 

They walked the rest of the way to the Richmond farmhouse, fingers loosely entwined, neither talking, but glancing at one another every few seconds, both unable to keep from smiling.  When they reached the front door, Jake pushed it open without knocking, and then motioned for Heather to enter before him.  He led her into the kitchen, where Stanley and Bonnie were already getting out sandwich fixings. 

Stanley took one look at the two of them, and rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't comment.  "So, I'm taking drink orders," he told them.  "Which today means iced tea or bug juice," he added, shooting Jake a knowing look.  "Whaddaya want, Heather?" he asked, pulling the two pitchers out of the refrigerator. 

"Both."

"Both?" Stanley asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Heather nodded.  "Iced tea, sweetened with red kool-aid?  What could be better?"

"Ah-ha!  A daring one, I see," Stanley declared, affecting a knowing expression.  He poured her drink, and handed it to her.  "Jake?" he prompted next.

"Gotta go with daring," he answered, grinning at Heather.

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

Thursday, September 21, twenty-two hours after the bombs

"Where's Emily?"

Jake started at the sound of his mother's voice, almost dropping the file box of supplies his brother had just issued to him.  Eric, playing the role of deputy mayor to the hilt, had made him sign for them.  His duffle bag, at least, was securely slung over his shoulder.  Now, all Jake needed was to get his mind on the task at hand, and off of Heather, off of the bombshell she'd dropped, and off of the fact that she was, quite rightly, still mad at him but pretending not to be.

"She's not going," he muttered, stowing the duffle and box in the back seat of the SUV.  He pulled the long range radio out of the box, but left everything else where it was.  He'd go through it all later, when he stopped to rest, provided he could find somewhere secure to do so.

"Good," Gail declared emphatically, crossing her arms.  In her next breath, though, she demanded, "You're not going alone, are you?"

Jake had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his mother.  "You'd prefer I'd bring Heather along?" he asked, looking at her over the car door.  He wouldn't have let her come, even if she'd wanted to, especially now, but Jake really didn't know who else in Jericho his mother thought would volunteer for this mission.

"Of course not," Gail answered.  "But there has to be someone else -"

"Mom, there's not.  People are scared.  No one wants to do this.  I have other things - other things I need to be doing, but we need information."  He closed the rear door with a push, checking to make sure it had latched all the way, and then reached for the driver's door handle.  He paused a moment, and then, sighing, let go of the door.  Jake turned, leaning against the car, to face his mother.  "Heather's pregnant," he said softly, watching for her reaction.  "And, you don't seem to be surprised by that," he told her, chuckling somberly.

Gail shook her head.  "I suspected, nothing more," she told him.  "She got sick at Sunday dinner this week, but April insisted there was a bug going around.  The 'It Aint Easy Bein' Green' club at work."

Jake laughed.  "I have it on good authority that no such clandestine organization exists."

"Organized or not, I would have loved having a sister-in-law to vent with, back when I first married your father."  Gail paused, frowning for a second.  "Your grandmother and I really didn't make our peace until you boys were born, and that was a long eight years." 

Jake nodded. He'd loved his grandmother, but he'd always been aware of the tension that existed between her and his mother.

"You're still going, aren't you," Gail sighed.  "Even though -"

"This just makes it all that more important," Jake argued, yanking the car door open.  "You really think I don't want to be here?" he asked.  "Don't gimme that look."

Gail's expression was suddenly one of pure innocence.  "What look?" she protested.

Jake slid into the driver's seat, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her.  He rolled down the window, and then pulled the car door closed behind him.  "You know what look.  That look," he grumbled, glaring softly at his mother.

"Hey," Gail replied, leaning in the window.  "After the seventy five hundred times I have watched you drive away, not knowing if you were coming home..." she trailed off, reaching into the cab to pull his hand into hers.  She clutched it, arguing hoarsely, "I've earned the look."

"I'm coming back," he promised, squeezing her hand.  "I'm going out there to do what I can to help keep my family safe, and then I'm coming back."

His mother's eyes filled with tears, and for the second time that day Jake felt lousy for inducing them, but he wasn't going to change his mind.  She knew that.  "Okay," she whispered, leaning through the window to kiss him goodbye. 

When she pulled back, ready to let him go, Jake didn't start the car.  "Mom, look after her for me, okay?" he requested, frowning.  "She's mad at me, at least a little, but pretending now that she isn't.  She'll want to go home to the ranch tonight," he predicted.  "But don't let her, okay?  Get her to stay with you and Dad at the house."

"You're taking her car," Gail observed.  "That'll slow her down some."

Jake rolled his eyes.  "That'll only slow Heather down for as long as it takes her to hotwire somebody else's car.  Look after her, please, Mom," he repeated. He reached into the glove compartment, knowing he could count on Heather to always have a pad and pen handy.  He found a blank page, scribbled out three lines and signed his name.  "And, give her this," he added, tearing out the slip of paper and folding the note closed.

Gail accepted the proffered message.  "Okay, I'll do what I can," she promised, leaning through the window to kiss him on the cheek one more time.  "You come home," she ordered.

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

Thursday, September 21, twenty-six hours after the bombs

"Here you go," Jake murmured, placing a piece of chocolate cake, a peace offering of sorts, in front of Heather.  He moved to the other side of the table, resuming his seat, waiting expectantly for her response.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked, eyeing the cake with obvious anticipation.

"Mrs. Thom's world-famous chocolate chip bundt cake," Jake confirmed, grinning at her.  "I snagged us the last two pieces, so I probably owe her a month's worth of lawn mowing, just like when I was a kid."  They each took their first bites, both moaning softly in appreciation.  "It's still worth it," Jake confirmed.

"Mrs. Thom so rocks!" Heather declared, savoring her second taste.  She watched him for a moment across the table, smiling.  "Hey," she said, laying her hand over his.

Jake had arrived back in Jericho about an hour before, only three hours after he'd left, and days before he'd intended on returning.  A couple of planes had blocked the highway he had planned to travel on, and then the bridge he'd needed to cross had been hopelessly obstructed.  He'd given up, deciding to cut his losses by pulling the flight data recorder out of one of the planes, in the hope that it would provide some of the information he'd originally intended to seek out.

Heather hadn't been around when he'd first reached town hall, and by the time she'd come into the sheriff's station where Jake was, he'd been surrounded by a crowd of anxious people, and they hadn't been afforded even a moment's privacy.  After every bit of information had been wrung out of the recording, none of it terribly reassuring except for the fact that Emily Sullivan's fiancé might not be dead, Heather had appeared at his side, convincing him quietly to come outside to the party his mother had organized, and have some dinner.

At the party, they still hadn't had a minute to themselves and Heather had sat patiently across from him, eating a second roasted ear of corn, waiting while a steady stream of Jericho's inhabitants had come by, all eager to greet Jake after his long absence, all interested in getting his opinion regarding what exactly was going on out in the rest of the world.  Jake was unfailingly polite to everyone who interrupted his dinner, trying to be both realistic and reassuring.  

Now they were finally alone, or at least as alone as they were going to be within the crowd at the party. 

"Hey," Jake returned with a sigh. 

"You didn't fail out there, Jake," she told him, correctly interpreting his preoccupied expression.  "You said we needed information, and you got it, even if you didn't get to Wichita, or even Goodland."  Heather glanced across the crowd, pointing out Emily Sullivan, who was talking to a couple of her students.  "She looks better.  You really made her happy."

"Yeah," he agreed.  "Of course, with Emily, happiness is a fleeting thing." 

Heather nodded.  "True," she agreed, absently taking another bite of cake.  "It was bad?"

"Freaked me out a little," he admitted, frowning.  "I've never flown anything as big as that 757," Jake told her, sighing softly.  "But when I was nineteen?  That's exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my life," he reminded, prompting a sympathetic look from Heather.  "There weren't any people.  Not at the planes, not along the road anywhere.  It's pretty rural all through there, the farmhouses are mostly off the road, but still."  He paused, shaking his head.  "How does everyone disappear?  There wasn't a car in sight, there wasn't anything.  Did they know about the storm?  Did they get out of it?"

Heather couldn't answer his questions, and she didn't pretend even to herself that she could.  She tried another bite of the cake, but it stuck in her throat when she swallowed, and she ended up pushing the plate away, grimacing.  "I probably shouldn't be eating this anyway," she said, clearing her throat.

"Why?" Jake asked, remembering his own piece, and taking another bite.  "Who knows when we'll get the chance again," he told her.

"It's all chocolate, pretty much caffeine and sugar.  Kind of a no-no for me these days," she reminded quietly.

Heather watched Jake, recognizing when understanding clouded his expression.  "Right," he agreed.  "But, look at it this way," he advised, "In the last twenty-four hours, you've survived a bus crash, radioactive rain, and being buried alive in a salt mine by your idiot husband.  I think you can risk a little chocolate," Jake concluded, looking away.

The full import of Jake's words hit Heather like a sledgehammer.  She could dismiss the affects of the bus crash and salt mine as inconsequential.  Her leg was broken, and she'd be in a cast for three or four weeks, but she was still pregnant and that was all that had mattered to her.  The radiation was another issue altogether.  Sure, she had avoided visiting Stanley at the clinic, and even tonight she'd only waved at him, rather than exchanging their customary hug.  But, Heather realized, she hadn't considered the full implications of her exposure, minimal though it was, to the radioactive fallout.  While she might be fine, there was no way to know now the affects on their unborn child. 

Jake was observing her carefully now, and she met his steady gaze with watery eyes.  In a flash, he was up and around the table, straddling the bench on her right side.  "Scootch," he ordered, helping her to adjust herself on the bench by swinging her good leg around so that she was also sitting sideways.  He moved so that he was right behind her, his chest pressed to her back, his legs along either side of hers. 

"Okay, Jake murmured in her ear, "We can't change what's happened, so that just means we need to be careful going forward."

Heather leaned her head back against his shoulder, asking, "This is the worst possible timing, isn't it?"

"I'm pretty sure there's no good time for an atomic blast," Jake answered, deliberately misunderstanding her.  "Look," he continued a moment later, "You had to know I was going to freak out some whenever we had a kid, right?  Now at least I can spend the next six, seven months worrying about you, your health, what's in the air, where food's coming from - things like that - instead of about what a lousy father I'll make."

Heather knew that he was trying to distract her from her troublesome thoughts, and she gratefully played along.  "You're gonna be a great father, Jake," she contradicted.  "I figured that out a long time ago.  You'll drive me nuts, but you'll be a great dad."

"I'll drive you nuts?" he chuckled, hugging her around the middle and resting his chin on her shoulder.  "How?"

"You're more laidback than me," Heather argued.  "You'll let them -"

"Them?" he protested.  "I need to work up to 'them'," Jake teased.  "For now, it's just one, right?"

"As far as I know, yes," Heather answered, making a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh.  "Twins run in your family, not mine," she reminded.  "You're being ridiculous," Heather accused lightly, "Like not being able to say 'baby'.  Your mom gave me your note," she told him, turning her head to look up at him.  "You wrote it."

"Baby," he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear.  "Baby," he repeated, nuzzling the side of her head.  "See?  I can say it.  Happy?"

"Yes," she giggled, sighing contentedly as his hand found its way up under the edge of her blouse, coming to rest over her stomach.  "Thank you."

"So, why is it that I'm gonna drive you nuts?"

Stanley and Bonnie walked by then, on their way back to Stanley's truck, delaying her answer.  They exchanged 'good nights', and Stanley clucked over them, grinning and rolling his eyes.  "Don't you two have a home to go to?" he grumbled.

"Jealous much, Stanley?"  Heather teased, prompting Jake to make kissing noises at his friend. 

"Sure, your husband's back in town, and suddenly you forget all about little old me," he complained dramatically, winking at Heather. 

Jake straightened in his seat, glowering at Stanley for affect.  "Okay, you can go away now," he directed.

"G'night, you two," Stanley repeated, waving at them absently and leading his sister away. 

Jake began to massage his hand over her stomach, and Heather leaned back into him more, if that was possible, yawning happily.  In the next instant, though, his index finger found its way into her belly button, and Heather retaliated by elbowing him in the ribs.  "Ouch," Jake complained cheerfully. 

"You're only getting what you deserve," Heather reminded, capturing his roving hand in her own.  As he well knew, her belly button was extremely ticklish, and it didn't take much to get her rolling around, laughing hysterically.  "You do not do that in public," she told him, elbowing him once more for good measure.

"Okay," he agreed, resting his head against hers.  "But really, how will I drive you nuts?"

Heather yawned again.  "Jake, your philosophy is that anything's fine as long as you're not harming yourself or anyone else, which is basically a good philosophy that I can agree with.  Kids'll love it.  But," she continued, "I'm still always going to be saying things like: 'do your homework,' 'wear a coat', 'eat your vegetables', 'brush your teeth'.  That stuff's not going to matter so much to you."

She could feel him nod in agreement next to her head.  "Probably so," he admitted.  "That stuff usually takes care of itself," he argued.  "If you're cold, you put on a coat, right?  But, how about I promise to care about homework, okay?" Jake offered. "No fun until homework's done.  See?  I'm already starting to sound like my Dad."

"Good enough," she giggled. 

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, observing the crowd, which was beginning to thin.  April and Eric had both disappeared, but Jake's parents were still at another table, laughing and talking with their neighbors, the Thoms of the famous chocolate chip bundt cake.  Reminded of their abandoned desserts, Jake reached for Heather's fork, cutting himself a bite, and drawing her protest. "That's mine," she told him.

"I thought you weren't going to eat it," he challenged, but at the same time he reached across the table to pull his own plate over.  They both finished off their cake, with Jake trying to steal another bite from Heather, winning when she waved her fork at him in surrender. 

He pulled her close again, murmuring in her ear, "Let's make a deal."

"I'll take door number two, Monty!" Heather declared, laughing softly.

"Nope," Jake contradicted.  "Door number one, or nothing."

Heather allowed an exaggerated sigh.  "Fine, door number one," she agreed.

"Okay, so we don't know what's going to happen, right?" he started.  "We never have known, not really, but now, everything's different," Jake argued philosophically.  "So now, I may seem a little overprotective, and I'm probably going to annoy you with that at times," he predicted, "But that's only because I love you, and I will do everything I can to keep you and our baby safe."  He paused for a second, before finishing.  "That's the deal, okay?"

"Deal," Heather agreed, nodding against his shoulder.  She twisted around then, offering him her hand, and they shook on it. 

"Babe, you look exhausted," he told her, rubbing his finger along the bridge of her nose.  "You never did get a nap.  We should go home."

"Ah, just what every woman wants to hear from her husband," Heather replied.  "'Babe, you look like crap.'  And," she added, "I did get a nap.  After your mom gave me your note, she made me lay down for awhile in the upstairs break room at town hall."

Jake groaned.  "First, I didn't say you looked like crap," he argued, lifting himself up from the bench.  He offered her his hand, helping her up as well.  "And, second, that couldn't have possibly been restful.  The couch up there is awful.  I swear it's the same one that Eric or I had to rest on if Mom was keeping one of us home from school on a day she needed to be at town hall.  I hate that couch," he declared.

"What'd she do if you were both sick?" she asked, allowing him to lead her towards his parents table. 

"One of us at each end, kicking each other all day," he explained, eliciting a giggle from Heather as she imagined the two little boys she knew from photo albums, feverish and in their pajamas, fighting it out all day on that narrow, lumpy couch.

They were standing in front of Jake's parents now, and he announced, "We're taking off."

"Before I fall completely asleep, and he has to carry me home, cast and all," Heather added, wrapping her arm around Jake's.

"You're welcome to stay at the house," Gail reminded them.  "Bed's already made up."

"I'm looking forward to spending the night in my own bed, to be honest," Jake responded.  "It's only been seven months."

"I'm holding a strategy meeting here at nine in the morning," Johnston said, gesturing at the now darkened town hall.  "I'd appreciate it if you came, Son," he told Jake.

Jake nodded.  "I'll be there," he promised.

"Come beforehand for breakfast," Gail invited.  "Both of you.  Pancakes at eight."

"Sounds good," Heather agreed, yawning, while Jake quietly bemoaned the early hour.

She yawned again, much more loudly this time, and Jake chuckled, glancing at her fondly.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  "C'mon," he said, "Let's go home."

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