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Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 1 by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

Well, I hope that this isn't too big of a shock.  My muse ran off in another direction, and so now we have Different Circumstances Interludes, a story/set of stories that I always knew was there, and that takes place in the four months preceding present day Different Circumstances Part 1 / the Pilot episode of Jericho. 

As I said, I always knew this part of the story existed, but I didn't know how it fit into the main line of the story with the back and forth between the past and the modified present universe of the TV show.  It turns out it does not, it just stands on its own as an Interlude.  This is the Different Circumstances version of The Day Before, but covering more time (and space).

Also, I realize this is a bit of a risk.  Everyone who has ever commented on this story has said that they love the back and forth between the past and present.  I love that too.  But I think this works better this way.  It's not the five years ago past, it's the very recent past and leads directly to the Heather and Jake reunion in Different Circumstances, Part 1.

I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15) soon, but I will also work on these Interlude stories at the same time/when the fancy strikes.

Lastly, because it doesn't fit into the mainline of the story, I am putting it at the end of the series for now.  I may change my mind later, but that's where I think it belongs for now.

 

Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my friends and beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement, especially as I went in this slightly off track direction.

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.  This is partially an epistolary/letter-writing story (just email rather than snail mail), and there are timestamps on all emails.  Just remember that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so if you are looking at the timestamps and something seems out of order, it probably isn't, as our favorite couple is definitely living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.

Also, there are references to Different Circumstances facts that are established in earlier parts of the main series. So, if you want to refresh yourself on how horses on the Green Ranch receive their names, check out Different Circumstances, Part 6B.  Or if you want to remind yourself about the terms of EJ Green's will, re-read Different Circumstances, Part 14G.

 

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Monday May 29, 3:05 am (Baghdad Iraq) / Sunday May 28, 7:05 pm (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

 

"Hey, babe."

"Jake, hi!" Heather returned, genuinely shocked to hear her husband's voice on the other end of the line.  "This is a surprise – a good one," she added quickly.  "But isn't it, like, three in the morning for you?  Where are you calling from?"

Where are you calling from? was their code for how secure is this line?

"I'm in a good place to talk," he assured her.  "Had to check in with Gretchen tonight – status call," he yawned, "And I'm on the sat phone.  Figured I was up and – I miss you.  If I'm gonna lose a coupl'a hours sleep, I wanna talk to you and not just my boss."

"Well, I always wanna talk to you, hon," she sighed softly.  "And if you're checkin' in with Gretchen is that good news, maybe?"

"Slight movement, but too early to tell," he offered, "Sorry."

"Gotcha," Heather acknowledged, letting out a resigned breath.  "Well, a girl can hope, right?"

"Oh yeah.  'Specially if she's my girl," he teased.  "If anyone can hope this thing into being done, it's you.  So, keep it up, babe."

"Well, you know I'm on it," she proclaimed.  "And, too bad you didn't call five minutes earlier – or maybe it's good that you waited, I dunno.  April and Eric left here ten, fifteen minutes ago, and your parents literally just left."

"I called to talk to you, not them," Jake reminded, "So we'll go with my timing's good, 'kay?"

"'Kay," she echoed.  "I'll absolutely take a bonus call from a good place to talk."

"So, we're hosting Sunday night dinners now?" he asked, his tone playful.  "I know I've been gone awhile, but when did that happen?"

She laughed at that, and sitting alone in Iraq – a rare enough occurrence – Jake closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him, soothe him.  "Uh, no.  This was a one-time deal, because we were all, already here," Heather explained.  "We did the Decoration Day clean up today—"

"Right, you said you and my dad we're doing that in your last email."

"Sometimes I'm surprised you read my emails – at least all the way to the end," Heather told him, and he could hear the smile in her voice.  "I feel like I'm just babble typing," she confessed, "Like you really want to hear about every little thing I'm doing, and all the elementary school gossip, too."

"I do, really," Jake confirmed.  "I like hearing all of it, even who's got a crush on who in the third grade.  Best part of my day, spotting one of your emails in my inbox." 

He couldn't find the words to fully express what a lifeline her emails provided for him.  Posing as a military logistics contractor – a glorified title for 'truck driver' – was the most grinding assignment he'd ever taken on.  The work – hot, tiring, simultaneously boring and fraught with danger – was unrelenting.  His shifts were long, and every day was exactly the same.  Heather's emails, even though her day was always eight hours behind his, were often his first clue that the weekend had arrived, or in this case, the holiday.  He'd only realized that Memorial Day was coming up when he'd read the email she'd sent on Thursday night in Kansas – and that he'd finally had the chance to read in the hour before he'd headed to bed on Friday night in Iraq.

"I read your emails first, and then I refresh my email just in case you've sent another," he admitted, chuckling at himself.  "And when you haven't, I re-read whatever you sent last again, and then I look at the ones from other people.  My mom, April, 'Aunt' Gretchen…." He paused, sighing softly.  "Well, coupl'a days ago I got an email from Kerry, so I read that one before re-reading yours."

"I got that email, too," she reminded – it had been sent to them both.  "And, I hafta say, we have one really cute goddaughter."

"That's what I thought, too," he murmured, "Though I figured I should check that with you, since that's really your area of expertise, not mine."

He'd been shocked – in a good way – when John and Kerry, Heather's brother and sister-in-law, had asked them to be their newborn daughter's godparents.  They'd arrived in Buffalo the previous Thanksgiving on Wednesday afternoon to the news that Kerry – who hadn't been due for two more weeks – had gone into labor and given birth to Megan Marie, all while they had been in transit from Wichita.  Heather and Jake had dropped their bags at her dad's, and then per the new parents' request, had gone immediately to the hospital, the first family members on either side to meet the newest Lisinski. 

Jake had been quick to remind them that he wasn't Catholic, but Kerry had brushed that aside, saying, "Well, the Church will always have its rules, but we agreed, and we want you guys to be her godparents.  This is, like, an honor," she'd informed him then.  "You can't really turn it down." 

Heather, who had been taking her turn holding her – their – new niece had echoed her sister-in-law, telling him that it "was kinda gauche" to refuse to be a godparent, before declaring that it was his turn to hold little Megan.  "And, look, you're doing so good," she'd exclaimed after she'd transferred the baby into his arms.

"I don't know about that," Jake had laughed nervously.  But looking down at the infant – all of four hours old – he couldn't help but remark, "She's just so tiny and – and perfect."

"She is perfect," her mother had declared, smiling at him tiredly.  "And Jake, you don't look nearly as scared as you did four years ago with Hannah," Kerry had teased, "So that's progress."

"And Hannah was a lot bigger than Miss Megan," Heather had cooed, leaning against his shoulder.  "C'mon, hon, you hafta say yes.  Though, really," she'd continued, looking at her brother and sister-in-law, "You're sure about this, right?  Skipping Tommy and Mandy?" she'd reminded.  John and Kerry had asked Andy and Deb – Heather's oldest brother and his wife – to be Joey's godparents when he'd been born not quite three years earlier.  "Or Maeve?" Heather had suggested, mentioning Kerry's sister, who was Heather's age and had been Heather's friend since high school.  It was Maeve, actually, who had been her first connection to the Burke family, a year before Kerry and John had started dating.

"Maeve doesn't want the responsibility that comes along with the honor, trust me," Kerry had replied, "And Mandy and Tommy won't mind being skipped."

"Okay," Heather had acknowledged, exhaling softly.  "But you do remember that we live in Kansas, right?"

"So, now you’re trying to get outta being my daughter’s godmother, Heth?" her brother had accused, feigning annoyance.  "You're supposed to be helping us convince your husband to agree, not trying to back out yourself.  And, all you guys living in Kansas means is that you have to come back here a little more often, and we hafta go out there a little more often," John had told them, "So, you can be involved in her life—"

"—So, Uncle Jake can teach her to ride a horse while she's still little," Kerry had interjected.  "In a couple years – or maybe, like, five years – six years," she'd decided, after thinking about it some more.

Heather had giggled at that, shaking her head.  "So, no ulterior motive in this decision at all," she had charged with a mock glare.

"Well, you know, rich uncle with a horse ranch may have tipped the scales in your favor just a bit," her brother had joked.  "But it wasn't decisive or anything.  You were already way in the lead.  Seriously, we want you guys to be her godparents," John had insisted.  "C'mon, sis.  Jake."

"It really was Johnny's idea," Kerry had informed them.  "We found out we were having a girl, and he said right away that we should ask you – 'ask Heather and Jake'," she'd quoted.  "And I couldn't agree more.  So, were askin', and you can't say no."

"Even if we'd had another boy, I still would've wanted to ask you guys," John had explained.  "So just say 'yes' already."

Jake had agreed then, earning himself a wide smile and quick kiss from his wife, not to mention a truly adorable (and well timed) gurgle from their niece and goddaughter.  Agreeing to be Megan's godparents had ended up delaying his Ravenwood assignment by a month, so he and Heather could participate in her baptism, which had been scheduled on his thirty second birthday.  Then two and a half weeks later, he'd left for Afghanistan.

"Do most people celebrate their kids' half birthdays?" Jake asked, trying to stifle a yawn.  The subject line on Kerry's email had been 'Megan's ½ Birthday Party', and from the pictures she'd attached – all ten of them – it was clear she'd gone all out.

"Not the way the Burkes do," Heather giggled.  "I mean, for babies, yes, you note the day.  Like, 'we've kept this tiny person alive for half a year, yay us!'  But they're the only family I know that does it every year.  Also, the only family I know that serves cake and ice cream for breakfast on your birthday in addition to the half birthday parties and regular birthday parties every year," she explained.  "I used to go to both of Maeve's parties when we were teenagers, and I was always slightly jealous. They're just big on birthdays – Kerry's dad's birthday is leap day, so that’s probably why.  I guess she's decided to carry on the tradition." 

"We could do half birthdays, too," Jake suggested, "Under birthday rules.  I vote for that."

"And, we could start having cake and ice cream for breakfast on birthdays, too," Heather joked.  "I could really get behind that."

They both fell silent for a long moment and then he confessed, "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna miss your birthday this year, babe.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jake," she answered, exhaling deeply.  Her birthday was just over a week away, and over the preceding month it had become apparent to her that he wasn't going to be able to wrap things up and make it home in time to celebrate with her.  Not unless something changed really fast.  "But I expect major bonus calls, okay?  At least one of which is Skype."

"You got it," he promised, "And presents, too."

"Presents, plural?"  she inquired.  "Well, I can get on board for that," she giggled.   "Tell me more!"

"You're just gonna have to wait the eight days, Heather," Jake informed her, laughing at the annoyed noise she made. 

"Fine," she grumbled, claiming, "I will be patient," though her tone implied the exact opposite. 

"So, you were gonna tell me about you and Dad and Decoration Day," he prompted.

"Well, it wasn't just us, your mom and Eric pitched in, too," she clarified.  "I just didn't know they were coming, because your dad, he asked me if he could do it – like, he needs my permission to spruce up the Green family cemetery."

"I think technically he does," Jake said, "Since it's on the part of the property that belongs to us."  When he'd died, Jake's grandfather had bequeathed to them both the ranch house and a very specific sixteen acres – including the family cemetery – carved out of the nearly three hundred acres of the Green Ranch.

"That is definitely a technicality," Heather groaned.  "I mean, those are his relatives – and yours – buried there, not mine."

"You know a lot more about the people buried in that cemetery than I do," he reminded.  "And Gramps would be mad at you for claiming the two of you weren't related."

"I didn't mean Gramps," she muttered, "You know that."

"Look, last year Dad asked me.  He's just being … courteous," Jake decided, not quite sure why he was defending his father.  "He's expecting us to say 'yes', but he goes through the motions.  Plus, it gets us to show up and help out," he groused.  "Well, this year, you.  That's what he's really after."

"Yeah, I guess," Heather acknowledged.  "And, I don't mind.  I had fun – as much fun as you can pulling weeds.  And, we scattered wildflower seed over the graves.  Your dad actually brought a whole packet of black-eyed Susan seed to put on his sister's grave.  That was really sweet," she sighed.  "So that part, we got done in a couple of hours.  They were all gonna head back to town, but then April came out – she'd been called into the med center for something – and she wanted to go riding, so somehow we all ended up going."

"We live on a horse ranch," Jake reminded, "You should ride sometimes."

Heather groaned.  "I haven't in months, I am so gonna be feeling it tomorrow."

"That's why you should ride," he argued.  "So, it doesn't kill you every time."

"Yeah, but I'm such an amateur, Jake," she scoffed.  "Enthusiastic, but an amateur.  I'm not gonna ride by myself, and riding in a group, I was so nervous the entire time.  I don't know how to do the spacing at all," Heather grumbled.  "And I was sure that at any moment Callie was gonna bolt and then your dad or Eric or April would've had to rescue me.  I think I'll just wait 'til you're back before I ride again," she decided, "I am way less frazzled when it's just you and me."

"You and April can always ride together," Jake proposed, "Long as you take radios along, and let Tony know where you're goin'.  School's out week after next, right?  So set up a weekly riding date with April.  Bet she'd love it.  You can call it the 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club's weekly meeting."

"There. Is. No. Such. Thing," Heather ground out, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice, too.

"So. You. Say," he intoned in return.

"School's out on the eighth – Thursday – and that's just a half day, anyway," she explained a few seconds later.  "Definitely all downhill from here.  But if it'll make you happy, I'll talk to April, and maybe, who knows?  We'll see," Heather promised.

"Good," he declared, yawning.  "And if I can figure this mess out and come home, I'll just slide right into the slot and we can go riding together."

"Yeah, that's a really good way to piss April off," she snorted.  "Use her, and toss her aside," she declared.  "And, if the 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club did exist – which it doesn't – it would definitely be girls only – NBA: No. Boys. Allowed."

"Right, that's the third rule of the 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club, I'm guessin'.  No boys – no one born into the name – allowed," Jake suggested.  "And, of course, the first two rules are you do not talk about the 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club."

"That sounds about right," Heather laughed, "If we had such a club – which we don't – I would get myself appointed to the Rules Committee, and we'd adopt those rules, probably unanimously," she decided, adding, "And, you do realize that I've actually never seen that movie."

"It's not your kinda movie, babe."

"That's what I've always assumed," she agreed.  "But yes, you should figure that mess out and come home, and then we'll just hafta make our own riding date.  In fact, come home and I'll go riding with you every day," she pledged, "At least until school starts."

"I'm tryin', babe, I swear," Jake promised, yawning again.

"Jake, you need to get to bed," Heather chided.  "When's your next shift?"

"Forty-five minutes," he decided, checking his watch.  "Can't go to bed now, that'd be worse," he argued.  "And I got six hours in before I snuck out to make my calls."

"So, I guess you won't actually be the narcoleptic trucker of my nightmares, then."

That earned her a chuckle.  "I'll survive, I swear.  I'm ready to go, just need about fifteen minutes to get back to the yard.  So, where'd you guys ride to?"

"You really want to hear about all of this?" Heather inquired.

"I want to hear all about your day."

"Okay – I'm gonna head upstairs then," she decided.  "But—"

"But you locked up already, right?" Jake wanted to know.  "Alarm's on?"

"Yes, Jake, all locked up," Heather assured him.  "Right after I walked your parents out.  In fact, if they'd needed to come back for something, I would have had to turn it off, and then they would probably think I was a little weird – paranoid."

"If they think anyone's paranoid, it's me," he reminded.  "Though you'd think they could just be happy that I love my wife and want her to be safe."

"You'd think," she'd echoed, clearly pleased with his pronouncement.  "And, I love you, too.  But what I was trying to tell you is that this phone might cut out," Heather warned, groaning.  "The batteries all seem to be going bad at once, and I just need to buy new ones.  First task on my list when school's out.  So, call me back if that happens."

"Will do," he agreed.  "You need to buy all new phones, or just replace the batteries?  'Cause, you know I get paid double for the holiday, so we can totally afford it," he joked.

"You're doing two jobs, you should get paid quadruple for the holiday," Heather argued, "Maybe quintuple."

"Well, that Jake Green's paycheck all goes into a bank account in New Bern that we'll never see.  Then it all gets magically spent, so he still looks broke."

"The bank's actually in New Bern?" she asked.  Jake started to answer, but then realized that she must have held the phone away for a moment to keep from yelling at him, because the next thing he heard was Heather, from a bit of a distance, shouting for their dog, Baron.  "C'mon, boy!  Let's go!  Let's go!  Upstairs!" she called in the sing-songy voice she used with the dog.  "Okay, I'm back – but still heading upstairs," she announced a few seconds later.

"You're letting him sleep on the bed, aren't you?" Jake accused, groaning.

Heather giggled softly, replying, "I plead the Fifth."

"So, that's a yes."

"I admit nothing," she told him.  "Plus, that's your rule, not mine.  So maybe Baron's just a rule breaker like his dad," Heather teased.

Jake laughed.  "I really shouldn't have to remind you that he's adopted."

"I do know that, trust me.  But he also completely imprinted on you, Jake, I swear he copies you…."  She trailed off, not bothering to complete her thought.  "And I know he's a dog, but I need some sort of company, and he's good company for the duration."

"Pretty sure he's forgotten all about me, and is one hundred percent your dog now," Jake disputed, "He's probably gonna go all Oedipal complex on me when I get home."  She didn't respond, and he let out a heavy sigh.  "I'm sorry."

"You don't hafta apologize, Jake, please," Heather ordered, an annoyed note ringing in her tone.  "I mean, I really do kinda hate your job right now," she confessed, "But you don't have to apologize for it.  It is what it is, right?  And besides, you're gonna clean that mess up and come home," she reminded.  Clearing her throat, Heather announced, "Okay, I'm here, and I'm gonna switch phones, so gimme a sec."

Jake waited, listening as she arranged herself on their bed, two phones – the cordless phone from downstairs and an actual, still plugged-into-the-wall phone that was on his nightstand – active for a brief, few seconds.  He thought he heard her pat the bed, but admitted to himself that he'd probably made that up only after he noted the gentle clink of Baron's tags as he'd settled himself next to her. 

"Okay.  Though why do I have to give you all the details of my day?" Heather challenged playfully.  "Maybe I wanna hear about your day."

"Because my day is exactly the same as the last time I described it to you.  Well, except we shifted it an hour earlier because of the heat," he admitted.  "So now, up at three thirty, report in at four, on the road by four thirty, forty-five at the latest, drive.  Go basically five, six different places – plus use different routes when possible – so a little variety there.  Off at two or three – depending on how bad the heat is on the trucks that day.  Not the people, just the trucks," Jake grumbled, deciding against mentioning that sometimes he got stuck for a few hours outside the Green Zone, waiting for the hottest part of the day to pass, before he was allowed to return to base.  All in a bid to keep the trucks operating.  "In bed by nine, earlier if I can manage.  Plus, I stay in what is basically a college dormitory in hell.  And I still have to find time to do my other job."  He exhaled a frustrated breath.  Sorry," he said after a short pause, "I shouldn't lay that all on you.  I'm the one who got myself into this.  But at least if you tell me about the ride, I'll have somethin' else I can think about later today."

"I'm sorry that's how your days go, hon."

"It is what it is," he replied, quoting her back to herself.  "You know, I actually spent a good fifteen minutes tabbing through the pictures of a half birthday party the other day – when I didn't know that was a real thing – because at least it was something that wasn't here.  Plus," he continued, "She's a cute kid.  She's got hair now.  Kinda crazy hair, but still cute."

"That was a real Pebbles hairdo," Heather conceded, with a laugh.  "I think Kerry's just trying to make sure everybody knows she's a girl, and for some reason is worried that the pink dresses and sparkly sandals aren't enough of a clue, so she tried to make a pigtail."  She sighed then, telling him, "Your mom took pictures today on our ride, so I'll ask her to send you those, okay?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

"We just went out along Johnston Creek, I dunno, a mile or two?  You're always better with knowing distance than me, especially on horseback," she complained softly. 

"It's a pilot thing," Jake dismissed.

"And an experienced rider thing," she returned.  "I appreciate that you know these things, Jake.  It's why I will just get on a horse and go somewhere with you.  I know you know what you're doing, and I'm not gonna end up dead," Heather told him. 

"Thanks, babe," Jake murmured, "I love you, too."

"See? You get me.  Exactly what I was saying.  I love you," Heather declared, "And, I know I'm safe with you.  Of course, I'm still so sore I can't walk the next day, but that's my problem."

"Easy to fix by riding regularly," he reminded.

"Yeah, yeah," she griped. "I will talk to April, okay?  Who was the person, actually, who wanted to go all the way out to Dinah's Bluff, which I agree is super pretty and everything, but yeah, I didn't think I'd survive that.  It's gotta be ten miles, round trip, at least."

"Closer to twelve," Jake supplied, pulling a long groan from his wife.  "So, a mile and a half out along Johnston Creek?  That's Mary's Meadow," he told her.  "Nice spot.  Maybe that's where you went?"

"That's exactly where we went," Heather confirmed brightly, "And it's pretty, too.  Plus, it combined the two activities for the day, because your dad finally explained to me the mystery of the Marys."

"There's a mystery of the Marys?"

Heather’s "Yes!" was emphatic.  "Because it turns out there are four of them, though I only knew about three of them.  Well, two of them, actually," she corrected.  "Anyway, do you remember how Gramps really wanted to clean up the documentation of the cemetery about a year before he died?"

"And then you got drafted into helping him?  Yeah, I remember that," Jake snorted.

"I didn't mind," Heather dismissed, "Though Gramps was always very cagey about the Marys corner of the cemetery," she said, settling into what Jake thought of as her storytelling voice.  "I just knew that there was a plot labelled 'Mary – Mary', then the plot for your great great great grandfather Cormac – I knew who he was – and then another 'Mary'."

"Two graves, three Marys?" Jake guessed.  "But Gramps never told you anything about them?"

"Nope," she confirmed, "Because I don't think he wanted me to know that your three greats grandfather had two wives, both named Mary," she laughed softly.  "I guess he thought that was a bit of a scandal.  The first died in childbirth – very nineteenth century – and the baby – also named Mary, apparently – also died." 

"That explains the 'Mary – Mary' grave at least."

"Yes, which gets us to three Marys, because Cormac married Mary the second, like, a year later," Heather explained.  "So, her grave is on the other side of Cormac's from Mary the first's.  And, it's a little weird, except maybe not since Mary was the most popular girls' name in the English language for hundreds of years."

"Makes sense," Jake agreed.

"Oh, and then the fourth Mary was Cormac and Mary the second's daughter, one of their, like, seven kids.  And, she's not buried in the Green family cemetery, so we have to assume she lived to adulthood, married, and is buried in some other cemetery.  I'll have to ask your dad if knows anything about that."

"So, Mary's Meadow could be for any of them – or all of them, I guess," Jake said.

"Right," Heather acknowledged, "Which is nice, really.  But the whole four Marys thing is still an odd bit of Green family history.  Probably not a scandal, but…."

"Heather, my third great grandmother was Pawnee Indian," Jake reminded with an uneasy chuckle.  "I'm pretty sure she wasn't called 'Mary' when she was born.  That would have happened … later."

"Oh God," she swore.  "So, you think Cormac marries her and decides he should just call her by his dead first wife's name?!" Heather demanded, clearly indignant on his thrice great grandmother's behalf.  "Because that’s easier for him to say?  To remember?  That's – that's just messed up," she complained.

"It is messed up," Jake agreed, laughing, "Though, it does explain why Gramps never wanted to tell you the story behind all the Marys."

"Well, I hope at least that her real name was something close to Mary," Heather grumbled.  "But that just leads to a bunch more questions – How exactly, did he come to marry her?  Did she speak English?  Did he speak Pawnee? – I hope that's the name of the language – Could they communicate at all?  Gramps was right, I did not need to know this," she decided.  "And now, I will never look at Mary's Meadow the same again," Heather proclaimed, making an annoyed noise.

"I have no idea about any of those really good questions," Jake told her.  "But maybe it was actually my twice great grandfather who named it for his mother," he suggested.  "Not Cormac, with all his Marys.  That'd make it better, right?" 

"Yeah," she agreed after a few seconds' pause.  "I like that better.  And I do have a major soft spot for your great great grandfather – he was the first 'Jacob' in your family tree," Heather reminded.  "Okay, so Jacob named Mary's Meadow for his mother, and maybe his sister," she declared.  "That's the story, and I'm stickin' to it."

"Maybe I need to start naming places on the ranch," Jake announced, his tone teasing.  "Need to go out and find 'Gail's Gulch' and 'Heather's Hill'."

Heather groaned softly.  "Those are bad names, Jake.  I refuse to have a hill named after me, and I'm pretty sure your mother wouldn't want a gulch named after her."

"How 'bout a gully? A gap?  A glen?  Or a hedgerow?" he listed, admitting, "That's the only 'H' besides hill I can think of."

"I'm pretty sure there are no hedgerows in Kansas," she reminded.  "And maybe don't alliterate.  Though, really, hon, just leave naming things up to me.  I'm way better at it."

"That's true," Jake agreed, not at all offended by his wife's assertion.  "So, what did you guys have for dinner?"

"You really want to know that? " Heather asked, "I mean, I know you don't like the food there."

"I pretty much hate it,” he confirmed, “Because the food’s bad.  Even things I like are bad here.  They have this generic peanut butter, and it’s not actually bad, but it’s not good either.  Doesn't really taste like anything.  So, yeah, I wanna know."

"It was totally spur of the moment, Jake," she told him.  "By the time we got back and had taken care of the horses, your mom said if we all went back to town, we probably wouldn’t be eating ‘til seven or later, so I offered to throw something together out here."

"Since you don’t want to tell me, that means it’s something I like," he deduced.  "So, what didja have?  I'm livin' vicariously here, babe," Jake informed her.  "Also, making a list for when I get home."

"Must be really bad if you’re making a list," Heather teased halfheartedly.

"Exactly," he agreed, chuckling.  "So, what was for dinner?"

"I wasn't ready to make a real dinner, like your mom," she reminded.  "I was just lucky I had already made deviled eggs to take to your parents' tonight because—"

"Because chickens," Jake sighed.  Heather had inherited Gramps' chickens, and even when he was home, they had a hard time eating all the eggs the small flock produced.  The only way Heather could have used all the eggs on her own was if she gave up eating everything but eggs.  "You're not gonna believe this, but I actually miss the chickens.  Real eggs, anyway," he explained.  "The only way they serve eggs here is scrambled and rubbery.  I'm adding deviled eggs to my list."

"Well, I will make you deviled eggs with double the tabasco when you get home, okay?" Heather offered, joking, "But now you can't call the chickens evil anymore."

"I'll try and cut 'em some slack," he agreed, chuckling softly.  "So, what else did you guys have?  Or, did you just give my mom deviled eggs for dinner?"

"That was just the appetizer.  And, no way I would've invited your parents to have just deviled eggs for dinner.  I know my eating habits horrify her, and then if all I gave her was deviled eggs, she'd start thinking she needed to rescue you from my nutritionally deficient clutches."

"It was a joke, Heather," Jake assured his wife, "And I don't want to be rescued from your clutches, so I wouldn't go.  And, anyway, didn't my mom once say I was your problem now?" 

Heather laughed.  "I don't think those were her exact words.  Or sentiment."

"Well, however she said it, you're stuck with me," he informed her. 

"Then, I guess I'll just keep feeding you all wrong in your mother's eyes," she decided, "But I won't worry about it, 'kay?"

"Works for me, babe."

"Well, since I couldn't make a real dinner on short notice – or no notice, really," Heather sighed, "I made grilled cheese."

Jake groaned.  "God, I love your grilled cheese for dinner.  That's real dinner in my book."

"I meant it's not your mom's idea of 'real dinner'," Heather argued.  "But I told her that you like grilled cheese for dinner, and then April defended me – Eric too, actually." 

"Well, duh.  Every time you make Eric grilled cheese, he tries to convince you to open a grilled cheese restaurant," Jake teased.  "And he's never even had your grilled PB and J."

"Grilled PB and J is just for you and me," she confirmed, her voice taking on a husky quality.  "I don't even make it for myself when you're not here.  And, I don't think I'm going open a grilled anything restaurant," Heather told him, "Too much work, and I like the job I already have.  But I enjoy experimenting with different ingredients, just for us.  And, I think tonight was okay, actually.  I put bacon in everybody's sandwich, so that won over your dad.  Plus, I've been working on a new recipe – kinda a caprese sandwich, but now with bacon – and your mom seemed to like that.  April loved it."

"Can't wait to try it, babe," Jake declared.  "So that's also on my list.  Though caprese – that means tomato—"

"I'll do yours without the tomato, promise.  Maybe even double the bacon," she offered.

"Thanks."

"So, something funny happened yesterday," Heather started after a short pause.  "Well, not funny really, but it was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"'Kay," Jake replied after ten seconds had passed and she hadn't said anything else.  "Shoot."

On the other end of the line, he heard her take a deep breath before beginning slowly.  "Sooo, last night, I went to take my pill, and it turned out that it was the last one – last in the pack," she clarified quickly before exhaling a nervous breath.  "Anyway, I went to get a new pack out of the drawer I keep them in, but there wasn't one."  Heather coughed once, softly, before continuing.  "And then, I kinda panicked for about thirty seconds, probably," she decided, "Before I remembered that I really didn't need to.  I mean, I can just call in the refill on Tuesday, no harm, no foul, right?"

"Right," he acknowledged.

"Thing is, I'm not sure – I don't think I want to," she confessed.

"Okay."

"I'm talking about my birth control pills, Jake," Heather explained once it became clear to her that he wasn't planning to say anything else.

"I know that, babe," he returned, exhaling a long breath.  "And – and, if you don't want to refill it, then don't," Jake instructed after another too long pause.

"Don't get the refill," she repeated.  "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, "That you should get the refill?"

"I don't know," Heather admitted, a hint of exasperation seeping into her tone.  "Maybe – maybe I want you to say: 'God, you're so right, Heather.  What took you so long?  I've been waiting forever for you to say something.  I don't want you to get the refill either.  Absolutely, we should have a baby.'"

"'Cause, that sounds exactly like something I would say," Jake chuckled softly.

Almost against her will, a giggle – a nervous giggle – escaped her.  "Not even a little bit," she grumbled.  "For starters, you would never say 'baby', you'd say 'kid'.  And I know – I know you haven't been sitting around, waiting for the day I finally say something – announce I want to have a child," she scoffed.

"I have been," he contradicted, clarifying, "Waiting for you to say something.  Us having a kid – kids?  I'm gonna follow your lead on that, babe.  That's your call.  Especially the 'when' part.  I really thought you knew that," Jake sighed.  "And, I am kinda surprised that it took you so long."

"Okay," Heather acknowledged, sounding somewhat doubtful.  "Because we always said we'd talk about having kids in three or four years," she argued.

"We did," he agreed, "And it's been four years."

"So, okay then.  I want to start that conversation – I wanna talk about this," she insisted.  "Make sure you don't hate the idea."

"Heather, I don't hate it," Jake assured her, his voice a low rumble in her ear that – even though she wanted to focus on having a serious conversation – made her melt a little inside.  "I never have."

"Really?" she returned, not quite able to keep from sounding surprised by his declaration.

"Really," he confirmed.  "We always said that if you got pregnant, then you got pregnant, and we'd deal with it.  I've always been prepared for that."

"But that's why we need to talk about this!" she huffed, frustration lending a sharp edge to her voice.  "This – this shouldn't be some – some five-minute conversation where you tell me, 'Sure, babe, don't get your refill.'  This – this is a big step – a giant change to our lives—"

"So, we can't cover all that it in five minutes, but we can in fifteen or twenty minutes?"  Jake's tone was calm and kind, but also the slightest bit skeptical.  "Because that's about all the time we've got before I hafta go."

"No, of course not," Heather groaned.  "And, I know you have to go. I just – I wanted to start talking about this.  I'm not saying we have to finish the discussion – just start talking about it."

"Okay," he agreed, "And we can talk about it, but…." He paused, exhaling deeply.  "I think – maybe – this particular discussion might work better in person."

"Right."  Her response was clipped and it was another ten seconds before she said anything more.  "So, when are we gonna be able to have one of those?  An 'in person' discussion?"

"Heather—"

"Jake," she interrupted, cutting him off.  "We have not been in the same place in a hundred and ten days.  That's more than double our previous record of forty-six days. And – and I hate that I know that – that I feel that – and I don't want to put pressure on you, but—"

"I hate it too, babe," he interjected, "I mean, I'm glad you miss me – I miss you – but I hate the rest of it.  And, I'm sorry."  This time she didn't rush to tell him not to apologize, and he had to fight the urge to bang his head on the table in front of him.  "This assignment – it's really kickin' my ass," he admitted, grumbling softly. 

"Yeah," she acknowledged, "It's kinda kicking my ass too."

"I shoulda bailed out on this after Afghanistan," he muttered.  "Should've told Gretchen to put somebody else in if it was so important."  This was, Jake knew, the exact type of assignment he'd sworn to Heather – to his father-in-law – that he'd wouldn't take on ever again.  But the mystery, the complexity of the investigation had intrigued him, and it hadn't occurred to him until he'd been in Iraq for a month that he should have left this chase to someone else.  "I told her that I'd quit before I ever took something on like this again," he assured Heather.  "I can quit right—"

"I'm not asking you to do that," she sighed.  "I just – I don't wanna go two hundred days without seeing you.  I want – I want our anniversary trip," Heather decided.  "And, I'm not saying it has to be two weeks on a beach somewhere. Or actually on our anniversary.  I know it'll be hard to arrange, but sometime this summer, are we gonna be able to see each other?"  The words tumbled out of her quickly – nervously.  "Be 'in person'?  For a week, maybe?  Even a long weekend would be good," Heather offered, negotiating against herself.  "Because I really – I need that, Jake.  I need to hang out with you, and have 'in person' talks – just talk where there's no time limit, and no worrying about what we say, because of whatever."

"I want that, too, Heather.  I miss you, too."

"Frankly, there's some other 'in person' type stuff I also need," she said softly. 

"Trust me, I'm lookin' forward to some other 'in person' type stuff myself," he told her.  "The 'in person' type stuff that leads to kids," he added suggestively, "Just so we're clear on the 'in person' type stuff we're talkin' about."

"That was what I was getting at, yes," she confirmed, and Jake could hear the smile in her voice.  "But we're just gonna talk about kids, okay?  Not do anything about it – well, we will do things, but I'm gonna get the refill is what I mean," she groaned, and Jake knew she was blushing now.  "I'd much rather spend some time with you on birth control than go off it, and not see you for six months or a year," Heather declared.  "But I do want to talk about it.  Kids.  Having a baby," she sighed.  "Deal?" 

"Deal," Jake agreed.  "But no way are we going six months without seeing each other.  If that happens – well, it won't, 'cause I'll quit," he vowed.  "And, we're definitely going on our trip.  Full two weeks," he promised. 

This was another thing that had snuck up on him.  He'd known their anniversary was soon – it was always five weeks after her birthday – but for the first time he had no idea where they would be going.  "Coupl'a tricky things I need to figure out with this assignment, but I'm – I'm workin' on it," he insisted, swearing to himself that he'd begin his research as soon as he had five – two – minutes to spare.

"Okay, good.  Thank you," she murmured.  "And, you know, we could always meet halfway.  For our trip.  If that helps.  Once school's out I won't have anything to do, and you have lots to do – too much."

"You're gonna go riding with April, right?  That's somethin' to do," he reminded.  "Besides, I'm pretty sure that halfway between home and Iraq is somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.  We can do better than that," Jake joked.

"Okay then," Heather declared, her voice lilting as she got into the spirit of things.  "So maybe I go ninety percent of the way," she offered, "That'd put us on the French Riviera, maybe the Amalfi coast."

"That sounds great," he declared, before admitting with his next breath, "But it doesn't fit with my cover.  The other Jake Green can't afford fancy European vacations – he can't afford any vacation," he muttered.   "But gimme a week or two, and I'll figure some things out," Jake promised.  "And hey, French Riviera, Amalfi those are definitely top of the list for next year.  Five-year anniversary, we need to go big."

"You always go big, Jake," she reminded, laughing softly.  "But still, I'm gonna hold you to that."

"You do that," he declared, "I want you to." 

"Time for you to go, huh?" Heather asked a few seconds later.

"Yeah, pretty close," Jake agreed, looking at his watch again.  "Unfortunately.  So, what're your plans for the rest of the evening?" he asked, knowing he was stalling.

"If I answer that question, you're going to get a very boring email tomorrow," she informed him.  "Well, later today, for you.  Besides, I need to go take Baron out."

"You're gonna take him out now?  So much for safety," Jake complained halfheartedly.

"Maybe you are a little paranoid," Heather teased.  "It's, like, eight o'clock – not even dark, really.  I'm gonna turn off the alarm, and step out back for ten minutes, that's all.  I'll turn it back on as soon as we're back in the house, promise.  I may let him sleep on the bed, but I don't want him peeing on the floor."

"So, you admit it – the dog's sleeping on the bed."

"I guess I do," she sighed. 

"'Whaddya gonna do about it, Jake?'" he filled in for his wife, pitching his voice higher in an extremely bad imitation of her.

"I sound nothing like that, mister," Heather informed him.  In his mind's eye, he pictured her shaking her head, rolling her eyes, but also fighting a smile.  "I didn't mean that," she assured him, "I wasn't even thinking it."

"Yeah, but maybe you should mean that," he argued.  "You shouldn't have to put up with me, all this crap."

"But I like you, so I do put up with you," she reminded.  "And if you want to do something about it – any of it – clean that mess up, hon, and come home."

"Heather, I gotta—"

"—Gotta go," she completed for him.  "I know.  It's okay.  I've loved my forty-five minutes, so thank you.  Even the – the awkward parts.  I'm always glad to talk to you," she declared.  "I hope you know that."

"Pleasure's all mine, seriously.  Love you, babe."

"Love you, Jake."

"Love you more.  Bye."

"Bye."

 

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

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Sun May 28 21:37 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Tonight

Attachments: poor_puppy.jpg

---

Hi Jake,

I am so sorry I sprang that on you tonight.  That was totally unfair.  I mean, me basically saying "Hey, we should have a baby" is like you saying "We should just get married" and we both know how well I reacted to that.  You took it way better than I did.  And, I was definitely thinking out loud.  You don't have to feel bad because you aren't in the exact same place as me.  If I could take it back, I would.  Can I take it back??

OK, so I don't actually/completely mean that.  I am ready to talk about having kids, but not if you think us having kids is just something to "deal with".  I can wait to have kids until you're ready for sure.  I mean that might change in a few years, but for now, "when" is your call.  I'm ready now, at least I think I am, but we can wait until you're ready too.

So, I guess my request is that we talk about this when we are "in person", and let me tell you, I can't wait for that!  But don't feel bad about how you feel, just talk about it with me, OK?  And then we talk about it again in six months.  That work?

Also, I can already tell I'm getting sore, so I am going to go take a bubble bath and soak in the absolutely amazing/ridiculous bathtub my wonderful husband insisted we install when we moved in here. :-)  Such a smart guy.  (Not to mention super hot.)  Would be way better if he were here to join me, but you can't have everything.

Well, I don't think this email is quite long enough yet, since I know you want all the details.  (You're going to regret telling me that, mister.)

Baron and I were outside for exactly 7 minutes, and now he seems to be completely aware of your disapproval because he went straight to his bed and looks very sad laying there with his head on his paws.  Won't even look at any of his toys.  My poor puppy. :-( (See attached.)

I turned the alarm back on (just so you know) and had some ice cream.  There's nothing on TV tonight, so I read for a bit, and now I am headed for my bubble bath.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Remembrance Ceremony at the park with your parents.  If I can walk, that is.  And then I have a whole afternoon free, so who knows what I'll do.  I'll try to find something to do that is worth reading about for tomorrow's email.

That's pretty much it.  I'm even caught up on grading, will wonders never cease.

I love you.  I miss you. I love and miss you.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Heather

---

 

---

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Mon May 29 18:34 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Tonight

Attachments:

---

 

Ouch Babe.

I know you are trying to make me feel better but did you have to bring up my least finest moment ever?  Well maybe tied with calling you crazy that one time.

Now I'm going to stop remembering all the times I was a complete asshole to you because I would like us to stay married.  Just remember that I'm the guy who made you get the tub with jets so that balances out some of the times I am an idiot right?

Definitely wish I was there to join you.

I don't think of kids as something to "deal with" ok? I like kids remember?  I'm 7 kids favorite uncle Jake.   

You want kids.  I want kids because I want you to have kids.  I want to see you with our kids.  I want to teach our kids things.  I just don't know if it's the right time because of my job situation.  Also hard to have kids with 7000 miles between us.  I remember that from HS biology. 

And Baron is totally playing you.  I bet five seconds after you turned out the lights last night he was back on the bed with you.  Tell me I'm wrong.

Love you

Jake

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Mon May 29 20:04 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: Your Call

Attachments: JJGreen_Resignation.doc

---

 

Hi Babe –

I know you wanted a different reaction from me last night.  I'm sorry.

You are more important than this job.  You are the most important.  This job isn't even in the top ten.  Any time you tell me to hit send I will.

Love you

Jake

---

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Mon May 29 13:57 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Your Call

Attachments:

---

 

Jake/Agent Green,

No, it's really not.  Your job, your call. 

I am not asking you to resign, I am asking for a discussion and eventually a timeframe.

I can't wait to see you in person.  I figure I'm allowed to tell Agent Green that even though I should probably avoid telling Jake Green that.  Would you mind letting him know for me. ;-)

Also, I hope I didn't mess up by mentioning that in my earlier email to Jake Green.  I wasn't thinking.  I'm sorry.

I love you too,

Heather

---

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Mon May 29 14:18 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Tonight

Attachments:

---

 

Hi Jake,

Sorry to bring up a sore subject.  I was really just trying to say that you didn't have to feel bad about something I said when I really hadn't thought it through, and was absolutely thinking out loud. 

I'm just going to admit it – I'm a little lonely these days.  It used to be when you were gone for a couple of weeks or a month, that just meant I got my work done, both my work as a teacher, and my master's course work.  Or if I needed to talk to someone, I'd wander downstairs and see what Gramps was up to.  How do you think I became such an expert on your genealogy?  Then you'd come home, and I'd get behind on everything because you are very good at being distracting. (That's a compliment, just so we're clear.  I am very pro-Jake Green Distraction. :-D )

Anyway, things are different now.  Maybe I'm just trying to rush the future.  But that's not fair to you, so I'm sorry.

Also, FYI, I'm planning to stay married to you.  I like (love) being married to you.  I just wish you were home, and definitely NOT 7000 miles away.

I know you like kids, and you are an awesome uncle.  But those kids, we give them back after we borrow them to play (and we don't get to borrow them that much).  When the kids belong to us, we don't get to do that.  (We can loan them out sometimes, but they will get returned.  Actually, we will want them returned because they're our kids.)  That's why we need to talk about this. 

As for Baron, you are both right and wrong.  When I fell asleep last night, he was not on the bed.  This morning, he was drooling on your pillow.  (You shouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know that.)

So, your mom said she'll send you the pictures from yesterday soon.  She is also apparently making last night's dinner tonight and invited me to join them.  Actually, she invited me to come over and learn how to make her meatloaf.  I have made meatloaf before – that's one of the recipes my mom insisted on teaching me.  But your mom's is way better, so I never made meatloaf again after I'd had hers (at the VERY FIRST Green family Sunday dinner I ever attended :-D ).  I think I will head over soon and hang out with her and learn the secret of Gail's meatloaf.  I wonder if it's zucchini.  That's her secret spaghetti sauce ingredient.  But if it turns out it's orange juice, I am going to have a hard time not laughing. 

Love you, love you, love you!

Heather

---

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Mon May 29 20:39 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Meatloaf

Attachments:

---

 

So, the secret ingredient of Gail's meatloaf is three-fold.  Mushrooms – sliced up and mixed in (I should have figured that out).  Tomato juice (so it was juice!  I giggled, and then I had to explain why I was giggling) for extra moistness. And then she said that she just looks in the fridge and kind of mashes any leftover vegetables she has, including sometimes zucchini, into the mix.  Plus, she puts a ton of ketchup on top.  I knew that part, I've always loved the ketchup crust, but she puts on way more than I would have ever thought necessary. 

Just realized I am sending you an email all about a meal that you probably miss.  But now I think I can attempt your mom's meatloaf so you can put that on your list, and we'll both make it for you.  So at least there's that.

Back to school tomorrow.  I'll make sure to note all the goings on in the 3rd grade so I can tell you about them in excruciating detail.  Oh, and I have yard duty all week so that's 3 recesses worth of the entire school's drama.  (No bus duty, though I do try and take that off of Gina's hands sometimes.  I remember what it was like to be the rookie teacher and get all the jobs foisted on you.) :-)

I love you, Jake,

Heather

---

 

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

 

Tuesday May 30, 6:42 am (Jericho KS) / Tuesday May 30, 2:42 pm (Baghdad Iraq)

4 months before the bombs

 

"Hi Jake!  Ack!" Heather greeted, answering her cell phone – only a year old, but still programmed to play Take Me Out to the Ballgame when he called – while also juggling her purse, lunch, and travel coffee mug as she slid into the driver's seat of her car. 

"You okay, babe?" 

"Yes, sort of," she groan-chuckled.  She'd trapped the phone between her ear and shoulder by tilting her head – the only way she had managed not to drop everything else – and now she attempted a semi-controlled release of her purse and lunch on the passenger seat.  The mug was still clenched in her hand, and though she'd splashed a trace of coffee onto her thumb and wrist, she didn't think she'd spilled any on her clothes.  "I'm running late – still at the ranch – and I tried to make it to the car all in one trip," she explained, licking a drop of coffee off her right hand, while catching her phone with the left, so she could straighten her neck.  She looked around, realizing, "Not sure where my keys are.  But where are you?  Off for the day I hope?"

"'Nother half hour, forty-five minutes, probably," Jake answered.  "My truck's being unloaded, and they said I didn't need to help, so I figured I'd give you a call while I wait.  Still hafta drive back, but I'm not that far away."

"That's a little weird," Heather observed.  She placed the travel mug in the cupholder and then opened her door, scanning the ground for her keys.

"I'm not gonna question it," Jake claimed.  The fact of the matter was, this was exactly the sort of thing he did question.  Every so often, he got one of these assignments where suddenly he didn't get to see his cargo, didn't receive full paperwork.  The official word was that these deliveries required a security clearance that he – that other Jake Green anyway – and three-quarters of the other drivers didn't have.  And true, there were usually a few military personnel who showed up to assist with loading and unloading, so maybe it was just a security clearance issue.  But maybe it wasn't.  "I'll just take the break.  So, no staff meeting this week?  I decided to take a chance, but if there is a meeting, you're really gonna be late."

"No, meeting's cancelled," she replied, climbing out of the Trailblazer so she could look under the car, and then under the driver's seat for her keys.  "Short week, holiday week, seven and a half more instructional days.  Take your pick.  I think we all just want to be done, Mrs. McVeigh especially.  Argh," Heather complained, "I seriously have no idea where my keys are."

"You used them to lock the door, right?" he suggested helpfully.

"Yes, armed the alarm – just for you—"

"'Preciate that."

"—Locked the door, unlocked my car – so they were in my hand – and then somehow they disappeared."  Heather climbed back into the vehicle, leaning over to peer into the gap between her seat and the center console.  Still no dice.  Finally, in the next instance, straightening in her seat, she spotted them.  "Oh, there they are," she declared.  "I have no idea how," she explained while leaning across the console and the passenger's seat to retrieve her keys, "But they ended up on the floor on the other side of the car. I dunno."

"Well, I'm glad you found 'em," Jake told her, "Do I need to let you go?"

"We can talk while I drive," she reminded, "Somebody insisted I get the Bluetooth upgrade.  Just give me a second."  Heather deposited her phone in the cupholder, put on her seatbelt and inserted her key in the ignition, starting the car.  "Can you hear me – and I'm not going to say that last bit, because this is not a commercial."

"I can," he confirmed.  "So, what's on the docket today, Mrs. Green?"

"Not much, honestly," Heather admitted.  "I didn't give any homework because of the holiday.  Like I said the other night, it's all downhill from here.  I'm doing my all caps 'LAST SPELLING TEST OF THE YEAR' thing again, and the words that my class wants to be tested on are basically the same as last year: 'dragon', 'monkey', 'pirate', and 'unicorn'.  Well, one kid said 'leprechaun', so I think I'll throw that in as a bonus."

"I think those are all the words they say you shouldn't use as your email password," Jake joked.  "And aren't those pretty easy words for your class?  A couple of months ago you tested them on dinosaur names.  I'm pretty sure I can't spell 'pterodactyl'.  P, T, and I'm out."

"Yes, but you have spell check, so you're okay," she told him.  "Plus, how often in daily life does 'pterodactyl' come up?  For most adults, never.  Only actual paleontologists and elementary school teachers get to talk about dinosaurs as grown-ups."

"That's true.  You are the only person I've discussed dinosaurs with in the last twenty, twenty-five years.  Well, I might have had a conversation with Mindy one time," he amended, "Fifteen, sixteen years ago."

"Exactly, adults talk about dinosaurs pretty much only when they're talkin' to kids.  Because dinosaurs are fascinating to kids, especially third graders.  They have peak dinosaur interest.  So, I use that, and trick 'em into pushing the spelling envelope."

"You're diabolical, Mrs. Green," he teased.  "That's a compliment by the way."

Heather laughed.  "Well, thank you.  I promise, I only use my powers for good.  And that's the whole point of the 'LAST SPELLING TEST OF THE YEAR'.  What do they want to know how to spell, what do they want to write about?  What words are important to them?  And 'monkey' and 'unicorn', those are clearly important words to eight-year olds."

"And that's why eight-year old me is still a little pissed that you weren't his teacher.  Well, not you, but a teacher like you."

"Thanks for clarifying," Heather declared, making the turn off Green Ranch Road and onto Route Nine.  "Because I'd much rather be married to you for seventy years than in charge of educating you for one."

"My preference, too," Jake agreed. 

"I do get some higher degree of difficulty words every year," she continued.  "I have them come talk to me one at a time, so no one is embarrassed about the words they choose.  This year I got one vote for 'aqueduct' and one for 'archipelago'.  So, somebody's watchin' the National Geographic channel, but so not the kids you'd expect."

"Last year, one of the words was 'maraschino'," Jake remembered, "And then you said that nobody got it right on the test."

"That's right, I forgot about that," she chuckled.  "Definitely a kid whose parents are ordering her a Shirley Temple when they go out to dinner.  Or a big hot fudge sundae.  But that's what I love about teaching: surprises all the time, and mostly good."

"Well, kids are funny, right?" he opined.

"Yeah, they are," Heather agreed.  "Funny and fun, both," she agreed.  "Which begs the question: what fun/funny words would eight-year old Jake Green – though you would have already turned nine – but what words would he have put on my test?"

"He would have sandbagged you, totally," Jake answered immediately.  "'Baseball' and 'airplane'.  Those would've been his words."

"And if I challenged him for some stretch words?"

"Well, since he'd've had the hugest crush on you, maybe he'd come up with something to impress…."  He paused a few seconds, seriously contemplating the question.  "Okay, I got it – 'rebel alliance'—"

"Okay, Star Wars is covered," she laughed.

"Yep.  And 'aeronautical'.  Gramps was taking me out to the airfield just to hang out by then.  Didn't take me up in a crop duster until later—"

"That was your mom," she decided.  "She knew he'd let you take the controls pretty much right away."

"Yeah, that's one hundred percent true," he chuckled.  "But, yeah, 'aeronautical', that was a magic word for eight-, nine- and ten-year old me."

"Aw, I love that," Heather declared brightly.  "And I'm stealing 'aeronautical' for the test.  Goes with 'aqueduct' and 'archipelago'."

"Steal away, babe."

"Thanks.  I'm also putting my favorite funny sounding words on the test.  You know, 'hullabaloo', 'gobbledygook', 'rapscallion', 'switcheroo', 'skedaddle', 'lollygag'." 

"It's like you're quoting Gramps."

"He'd say 'slugabed' instead of 'lollygag'."

"Yeah, probably," Jake acknowledged.  "And, he'd have a few to add to your list.  Like 'humdinger' or 'whippersnapper'."

"That sounds just like him," she sighed.  "Anyway, it's a fun, low stress way to end the spelling year.  For me anyway.  The parents may hate it, but nobody complained last year at least."

"Anybody who complains about how you teach their kids is an idiot." 

"Thanks, hon."

"Heather – about our conversation the other night," Jake began a moment later, sounding – to her ear – a little unsure of himself, "And my job, and everything—"

"I assume you haven't seen my emails from yesterday yet?" she said, interrupting him. 

"Went to bed a little early last night," he admitted, "So, no."

"Well then, spoiler alert, I'm not telling you to quit, okay?  That's not my decision."

"Okay," he acknowledged, "But you don't secretly hate me, right?"

"Nope.  In fact, I very blatantly love you," she proclaimed.  "As for the rest, mister, you're just gonna hafta read my emails, because yes, I sent you multiples."

"Soon as I'm off," Jake promised, adding, "And I've had a shower."

"Now see, you always say I tease you with my flannel pjs.  But then you always tease me with takin' a shower," Heather accused, groaning softly. 

"Hey, you're the one who brought up the bathtub," he reminded, "I've been thinking 'bout that ever since." 

"So, you're saying I'm the bigger tease?" she giggled.

"Yep, pretty much," he laughed in return.  "Unless that's gonna land me in the dog—"

Jake heard his name – "Green!" – being called, and looked up to see Ellison, his crew chief, waving him back to the loading dock. 

"Damn," he swore.  "Sorry, babe, gotta go back to work.  Thought I'd have more time," he admitted.

"Bummer," Heather muttered.  "But, hey, I'll take what I can get," she continued, forcing a cheerful note.  "No dog house for you.  And once school's out, we'll have more hours in common, right?  I won't be going to work right as you're getting off, you won't be going to bed before I can get home."

Jake was already moving back toward his boss and his truck.  "Right, that'll be good," he agreed.  "I love you. Have a good day."

"Love you, too," she returned, "Have a good evening."

 

"All done, you can return to the yard," Ellison said as Jake mounted the stairs at the edge of the loading dock.

"That's it?" Jake answered, glancing at the other man's clipboard expectantly.

"Oh right," Ellison grumbled, opening up the storage compartment.  He pulled out a blank form, scribbled a code on it and then signed it.  "You can fill out the rest, right?" he asked, handing the form to Jake.

"I'll take care of it."

"So, who're you talkin' to?" Ellison inquired casually, jerking his head toward the open space Jake had been pacing while he'd been on his phone.

"My wife.  She's a school teacher, so this is when she's on her way to work, and she can't really talk again 'til school's out for the day," he explained, carefully matching Ellison's nonchalant demeanor.  "Sometimes when the kids are at lunch, but not always.  I hope that was okay," Jake added, frowning softly.  "You said to take a break, and I figured I could catch her.  With the time difference, we can't always talk during the week."

"Naw, that's fine," Ellison assured him quickly, clapping him on the shoulder.  "Glad you caught her."

"Thanks," Jake said, flashing a relieved smile.  "I need this job – I need the money.  But I don't want to be doing this forever.  She's not gonna put up with me doin' this forever, so….  Anything you need me to do – better, different, whatever – just let me know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ellison nodded.  "So, where's home?"

"Kansas."

 

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

 

---

From: Gail Green

Sent: Tue May 30 09:04 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Horseback pictures

Attachments: heather_baron_1.jpg; heather_baron_2.jpg; heather_baron_3.jpg; horseback_1.jpg; horseback_2.jpg; horseback_3.jpg; horseback_4.jpg; horseback_5.jpg

---

 

Hi Honey,

Heather asked me to send these to you.  Pictures from our ride on Sunday.  We had a lovely time, but we missed you.  Sorry for the delay – I was still pretty worn out from the ride last night.

Heather said she hadn't ridden since you two went on your horseback camping trip for Labor Day last year.  I'd forgotten all about that.  She also said that she was just hoping to not fall off or otherwise embarrass herself.  She really does underestimate her own abilities, she did great, and she's a good rider.  Of course, yesterday at the Remembrance event, we were all kind of limping around, me worst of all.  It did seem to help focus your father's speech – but don't tell him I said that!

We didn't go too far out.  Heather insisted that Baron come along too, so then we couldn't go all the way out to Dinah's Bluff, which is what April wanted to do.  Heather told April she didn't get to kill her poor puppy.  She really is crazy about that dog, not that I blame her.  We ended up going along Johnston's Creek out to Mary's Meadow. 

Heather asked your dad which Mary the meadow was named for, so then we all found out about your 3 times great grandfather marrying 2 women named Mary.  I'm not sure that qualifies as a scandal (he was a widower, not a bigamist), but Heather, April and I all agreed it is a little weird.

April wanted to race, so Eric and your father indulged her on that, and she thanked them for it by humiliating them both – but you didn't hear that from me. During the races, Heather and I sat on the creek bank and talked, which we haven't done in a while.  Anyway, that's when I took the pictures of her and Baron, which I thought you would also like to have. 

Heather insisted that we have dinner at the ranch, which is just as well, we wouldn't have eaten until 7 or later if we'd gone back to the house.  My dinner plans were a little too ambitious for Decoration Day when I hadn't done anything to prep ahead of time.  She made us custom grilled cheese sandwiches on her panini maker. She told me that it's one of her favorite wedding gifts, from one of her aunts, I believe.

She also said that you two have grilled cheese all the time, which I don't know how I didn't know that.  They were delicious!  Heather is a real grilled cheese gourmand. I honestly don't know why she always says she can't cook.  Your dad even said we should get our own panini maker, probably because she put bacon in his grilled cheese.

Heather came over yesterday afternoon and we made meatloaf together.  It was fun, and gave us another chance to talk.  She said you are making a list of your favorite things to eat for when you get home, and we agreed that we would tackle it together.  I also got the impression that Heather isn't really looking forward to the end of school.  I think she's worried she will be at loose ends with nothing to do.  She said that she's going to make sure she rides this summer because you want her to, and she's asked if I'd like to join her and April once a week or so.  I think I may.

That brings us to ranch business.  I had a good long talk with Tony on Thursday, and Jake I have to admit, I've dropped the ball a bit.  He told me that we only have 2 mares in foal so far this year, and that those were both from the first week of February when you were here to handle the live cover.  He reminded me that he can't do it alone, even with Eddie's help.  We haven't even been able to provide stud service because we don't have the handlers. 

Tony is able to manage day-to-day care, but he isn't comfortable with making breeding decisions or discussing sales.  I can handle the financial discussions - I just search through your grandfather's records when I need to figure out a fair price, thank goodness he embraced computerization in his later years.  But meeting with buyers, taking them through the process, Tony and I are not cut out for that.

We were able to provide stud service for Sharpe Stables in Fielding a few weeks ago.  Rich Sharpe and Tom (he's 17 now, how time flies) had to come over to assist, which they didn't seem to mind, mostly because we bartered Agamemnon as stud for an unregistered 4 year old Shetland pony.  The stud fee would easily be twice the price of the pony, though I would have thought 3x or 4x was more realistic.  Their mare is in foal, so let's hope she stays that way, or we're going to have to provide a free service next year.  If it hadn't been the Sharpes, I might have tried negotiating away the live foal guarantee, but we've done business with them for years, and your grandfather would have thought that was a little underhanded, or not standing behind our brand/reputation, and I agree. 

Anyway, it turns out that children's ponies are hard to get ahold of right now, hence the price hike.  When I first called the Sharpes, Carla told me that there was pony glut a few years ago, and now there's a shortage.  Who knew?  Anyway, something to consider for the future, though if we do go into ponies, we might want to concentrate on the American Shetland Pony, they are a little taller, and a more elegant breed.  Registered of course, since there is a registry for those.  (Listen to me, I'm turning into a snob in my old age.  Your Grandma Betsy would be so proud.)

At Easter, Kevin and Janine asked me to help them find a pony for Zoey.  She's so petite (and doesn't turn 5 until August) but also very vocal about not wanting to ride with one of them now that Alex has his own horse.  Janine suggested a pony for Zoey because I don't think she likes the idea of putting her baby on a full-size horse. (I understand the sentiment!  I felt the same way when you and Eric were 3.  I know you boys didn't really care when Snuffleupagus the pony died, but I was sad.) 

I only asked $500 for the pony.  It was worth a bit more, but they are family, and that's the family discount as far as I'm concerned. I also said we'd take the pony back in trade when it was time for Zoey to move to a proper horse.  That could be awhile though.  Carla Sharpe says their newspaper is delivered each day by a 14 year old on a Welsh pony.  Welshes are bigger of course, but I think Zoey could get 4 or 5 years' use out of this pony. And even if you don't want to go into pony breeding, it doesn't hurt to have a pony on the ranch, just in case.

Kevin, Janine and the kids were out to pick up the pony on Saturday.  Tony had checked her out to make sure she was ready to pass on (we had Doc Hansen look at her too), but like I said, Tony doesn't really like the sales meetings.  Luckily April was a sweetheart and came out to help Zoey "test drive" the pony.  The pony came with the name "Sunshine" and Zoey wanted to change it to "Buttercup".  I thought that was from The Princess Bride (though how would Zoey know that movie?) but Heather guessed it was from the Powder Puff Girls, some cartoon, I guess.  Turns out Heather was right.  Of course, she knows kids the best of us all. Janine wouldn't let Zoey change the name and asked her how she would feel if we decided to change her name.  Heather then told Zoey she was going to call her "Bubbles" (another Powder Puff character apparently) from now on, and Zoey didn't like that.  So, the pony stays Sunshine but may also be called Sunny.

I've been talking to your dad all weekend about the ranch.  We'll probably end up taking a loss for this year, and honestly it will likely impact next year too, since we've done almost no breeding and we are a breeding operation.  We can afford a loss for a year or two, but he is worried that if we have to eventually sell, we're not going to get a good price.  But I'm assuming that we won't be selling.  None of this is to put pressure on you, sweetheart, but I do want to put a bug in your ear.  I don't think you want to get 2 or 3 years' down the road and find that you have to rebuild from where we'll be by then if things keep going as they are.  (I just re-read that, and the construction is awful, but I don't know how to fix it.  I think you'll know what I mean.)

Your dad wants to see what breeding we can manage to do over the next month or so.  He talked to Eric, and the two of them can take some time to conduct the live covers, but only on a part time basis.  He's going to ask Stanley if he'd mind helping out a bit (also part time, and we'll pay him of course), and we can ask Rich Sharpe if he can come, or if we can do a short-term contract to borrow a stable hand or two. 

Your dad thinks we should concentrate on Agamemnon and Nero, but I checked the records and Nero has been hit or miss the last 3 - 4 years.  I'm thinking it would be better to go with Ganymede, but wanted to run that by you.  Then we'll just see which of our mares come into estrus, and who is receptive to who.  Not very scientific, but we're trying to salvage something from this season without resorting to pasture breeding.  I'm sure you're rolling your eyes right now.  Your dad certainly did, before reminding me in great detail why that is not an option on the Green Ranch.  EJ, Ephraim, Jacob, and Cormac would all be rolling over in their graves, he assures me.  (Though really, what are the odds that Cormac was following modern equine breeding methods around the time of the Civil War?)  But pasture breeding is about the only thing Tony said he would be comfortable being in charge of, so I had to bring it up. 

Sorry to throw all of this at you at once, sweetheart.  I know you are very busy with work.  But I also don't want to hand over a complete disaster to you later.  And, I'm trying to talk your father into Europe, hopefully next spring for our 40th anniversary, so keep that in mind.

Love,

Mom

---

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue May 30 17:21 (UTC+3)

To: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA)

Subject: Sit Rep 5/30

Attachments:

---

 

Gretchen

Had another off books assignment today.  I forced Ellison to give me paperwork but what I got was basically nothing.

3 C-130s on the tarmac at BIAP.  Truck was already loaded when I arrived at 14:17. Usually I have to drive my own truck over or at least the rig but they sent me as a passenger with someone else this time.  6 other trucks onsite.  Crews + drivers continuing to load. 

Sent to the US Army warehouse complex, west side, arrived at 14:37.  Ellison met me there - very casual.  "Take a break Green.  These guys have got this."  3 PFCs, 2 SPCs, 1 SGT.  (When did Ravenwood start giving orders to the Army?)  Didn't get close enough to get any names.  Supposedly a security clearance issue.

Walked off the loading dock and called Heather.  Couldn't see much but the truck was unloaded in 12 minutes so not a full load. 

Ellison is the key.  He was there the last 2 times I got one of these assignments.  He asked me who I called and I made my pitch.  Grateful for the job and money but don't want to be stuck in Iraq forever.  Concerned that my wife won't put up with me being gone much longer.  Offered to do anything he needed me to do.  We'll see if he bites.

 

Jake

---

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue May 30 17:29 (UTC+3)

To: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA)

Subject: Vacation Request

Attachments: JJGreen_Vacation_Req.doc; JJGreen_Resignation.doc

---

 

Gretchen

Please approve the attached vacation request.  If you believe the timing is inconvenient then please accept this as my letter of resignation.

I can make this work for the operation.  Jake Green goes home for a death in the family (grandfather).  Misses 2 – 3 weeks of work and has to swing the airfare on short/no notice. This ups his financial difficulties.  The loss of the grandfather's social security and possibly other retirement income also ups the financial trouble.  Throw in some back taxes or a mortgage being called in.  Up the ante.  If Ravenwood/Ellison really are monitoring that might be enough to turn Jake Green into a shiny enough target.  I need to do some more work on this but you get the idea.

I need to spend some time with Heather.  Our anniversary is in 6 weeks and we always do something.  I don't want to quit on you or this case but for me staying married is more important.

Jake

---

 

---

From: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue May 30 08:36 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Vacation Request

Attachments:

---

 

Jake,

I find it curious that the first time you bother to fill out your own vacation request form, it's so you can issue an ultimatum.  Well, perhaps I don't find that curious.  Rather dramatic, but I understand where you're coming from.

Let's make this work.  Maybe a combination of increased financial woes and marital problems might crack this nut.  Offing your grandfather again is interesting.  I liked him, though I only ever met him the one time at your wedding. 

Call me at your earliest convenience.  We'll brainstorm.

Gretchen

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue May 30 17:44 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: In Person Time

Attachments:

---

 Heather -

No worries about what you told Jake Green on that other email account.  It helps the cover story if Ravenwood is scanning that email. 

I put in a vacation request today for July 6 – 24.  The 6th and 23rd - 24th are travel days for me.  You may not need them we'll have to see. 

I promised we'd see each other before 6 months - this will be 5.  Sorry I couldn't do better/sooner.

More to come.  And more to come from Jake Green's email later tonight. Some things may sound weird but I have to put some stuff in for work.  Ignore anything that doesn't make sense or makes you want to kill me.  But now I have to go deal with Gretchen.

Love you

Agent Green

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue May 30 17:52 (UTC+3)

To: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA)

Subject: RE: Vacation Request

Attachments:

---

 Gretchen

I still had to ask your assistant for the form.  Didn't seem fair to stick Mellie with the rest.

I'm not going to risk making another secure call so soon.  One of my roommates noticed that I disappeared yesterday morning.  If I do it again 48 hours later he might say something and more people could notice.  I don't need that kind of scrutiny.

Maybe Aunt Gretchen needs to talk to me about something?

I'll call from the truck yard on my cell at 3:30 (18:30 for you).  Hope you don't have dinner plans.

Financial problems are fine but Heather is already apologizing for saying things in emails that she thinks will cause me trouble.  Nothing to worry about - probably helps in the end.  But I'm not going to ask her to play along on fake problems to help me with my cover.  That could turn fake problems into real ones. The only marital problem I'm willing to have is the real one that my wife doesn't like that I'm 7K miles away.

My mother sent me an email full of ranch management problems so I can incorporate some of that to rachet up Jake Green's susceptibility.

I resurrected Gramps back in Afghanistan.  Figured it was a good idea to have a convenient family emergency in my back pocket in case I needed to get out.  Wasn't exactly for this, but it's for Heather so at least he'd approve.

Jake

---

 

---

 From: Gretchen Jones 'Aunt Gretchen'

Sent: Tue May 30 09:07 (UTC-6)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Your mother's birthday

Attachments:

---

Dear Jake,

How are you doing?  I was talking to your mother yesterday and she said that you are still going to be overseas for her birthday.  That is such a shame! 

Pastor Browning wants to honor her during the church service that week, and then have a special coffee hour afterwards – punch and cake.  Pastor Browning asked me to ask you if you had any candid pictures they could use in a slide show.  I think that is what it is still called even though they are going to do it on the computer!

Do you think you could call me sometime this week?  Pastor Browning says you can just email pictures to the church secretary, but I don't know anything about how to do that.

You're such a good boy. 

Thank you,

Auntie Gretchen

---

 

---

 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Tue May 30 19:23 (UTC+3)

To: Gretchen Jones 'Aunt Gretchen'

Subject: RE: Your mother's birthday

Attachments:

---

Dear Auntie Gretchen

You know not even Mom calls me a "good boy" anymore. 

Also I'm more worried about Heather's birthday which is next week than I am Mom's.  First things first.

I know how to send pictures to the church secretary and I will see if I can find some.  I just need you to give me the email address ok? 

I'm fine.  I can drive a truck for 6 months or a year if it means I can keep the ranch.  It's hot here all the time and I miss home.  I miss your fried chicken and potato salad.  You'll have to make that for me when I get home ok?

I can call you before I go to work in the morning.  Don't worry that's still this evening for you. 

 

Jake

---

 

---

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Tue May 30 19:58 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: Really Babe?

Attachments: heather_baron_2.jpg

---

Hey Babe –

Care to explain?  Mom sent the pictures from Sunday and I see you are back to kissing Baron.  I know what you would say - "Not on the lips I only kiss you on the lips".  That is not as compelling of an argument as you think it is.  Just so you know I'm switching my pillow for yours as soon as I'm home. 

Mom says that you are a grilled cheese gourmand and that Dad wants her to buy a panini maker.  She said your grilled cheese "was delicious" and that you are a good cook.  Sounds like she had a nice time making meatloaf with you.  She said nothing about nutritional deficiencies or kidnapping me.

Also re: meatloaf.  I noticed you didn't mention what you had with it so I assume it was mashed potatoes.  Mom always makes mashed potatoes with meatloaf.  On the list.

Mom reminded me about our Labor Day camping trip last year.  That was great weekend even though/even better because we snuck home a day early and didn't tell anyone.  I don't know that I want to go camping first thing when I finally get home but maybe we don't tell anyone for a few days when I do come home.

I don't know how much my mom has told you about what's going on with the ranch but it's not good.  She says she dropped the ball but I think I'm the one who dropped the ball.  I need to get home to straighten things out but we need the money I'm making here to keep the ranch. 

I hate that you're lonely Heather.  I hate that it's my fault you're lonely.  I wish I could offer my distracting services like the old days.  I want to be home with you.  I want to walk you out in the morning so I can help carry stuff and you don't lose your keys getting into the car.  Don't give up on me babe.

We can have a kid just as soon as this is all worked out.  I promise.  It's just that when we have a kid I want to be around.  For everything – the fun stuff, the boring stuff, the gross stuff.  But why have a kid if you can't be there for them right?

Love you

Jake

---

 

---

 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Tue May 30 20:42 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: Ranch Stuff

Attachments:

---

 Mom -

Thanks for the pictures from Sunday.  Loved the ones of Heather and Baron and Heather on Callisto.  She's a natural rider but she never believes me when I say that.  It would be great if you could go riding with her and April.

That's funny about April whupping Dad and Eric.  Do they not know that when they golf on Saturdays she's usually out at the ranch training with Arabella?

Definitely use Ganymede instead of Nero.  He's a grumpy old man horse and he tried to bite the 3 or 4 mares that showed the slightest interest in him last year.  That changed their minds.    We couldn't sell him now and Gramps always says that we keep the horses that have been good for us even when they are past their prime. He had a good 20-year career as a stud so we owe him. He's earned his retirement.  We're a breeding operation but also a horse retirement home apparently.

You know that Nero is Ganymede's sire.  We had 5 mares in foal by Nero that spring and Gramps had already given Heather the job of naming the foals.  So for Nero's offspring she picked Jupiter and the 4 main moons.  That's how Ganymede and Callisto both got their names.  We sold Io and Europa as 2 year olds.  Like I said Nero had a good career.  Those were just the foals he sired that year that were born on ranch.  Could have been 10 more born off ranch.  But that was his last good year.

Another thing Gramps says is that we're only as good as our word right?  So we need to honor the live foal guarantee especially for the Sharpes.  What do we have besides our good name?  I know you think I wasn't listening to you guys half/all the time I was growing up but it turns out I was at least some of the time.

Kevin and Janine should get the family discount and you're right it doesn't hurt to have a pony on the ranch.  Kerry told me I'm responsible for teaching Megan (and Joey I guess) how to ride and I think she would have your reaction to me putting her kids on a regular sized horse.  I know that would be Heather's reaction too.  Just not sure we should be considering breeding ponies when we're trying to keep the rest of our business going.

Don't know if Dad will go for it but we should give Tony a raise.  His job is to take care of the day to day with the horses and to assist with breeding but not run it. We'll be in a world of hurt if he leaves.  I thought I would be home by now to supervise/assist with late season breeding.  

Thanks for the heads up on everything else.  Sorry I have left you in such a lurch this year.  But we're not going to be selling the ranch if I have anything to say about it.

 

Love Jake

---

 

---

 From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Tue May 30 19:07 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Jake & Heather sittin' in a tree ...

Attachments: DD_Kiss.jpg; Engagement_Party_Kiss.jpg; Rehearsal_Kiss.jpg; Rehearsal_Dinner_Kiss.jpg; Wedding_1_Kiss.jpg; Wedding_2_Kiss.jpg; Reception_1_Kiss.jpg; Reception_2_Kiss.jpg; Reception_3_Kiss.jpg; Xmas_Party_1_Kiss.jpg; Xmas_Party_2_Kiss.jpg; Random_1_Kiss.jpg; Random_2_Kiss.jpg

---

 Hi Jake,

So, your accusations regarding who/what I am kissing these days gave me the perfect excuse to do a little project.  I went through every photo I have on my hard drive looking for pictures of us kissing. 

I was sort of disappointed to find out that I don't have any from our honeymoon or other vacations, but then I realized that random strangers (aside from the Doolittles, who are technically not strangers) don't take pictures of us making out and then send them to me.  (After all, how would they know how to reach me?)  Actually, I hope random strangers are just not photographing us when we kiss because that would be weird.

Also, since April doesn't like to encourage us, my best source of these pictures turns out to be your mom.  It helps that she suggested that we hire our wedding photographer for both Friday and Saturday.  I did not include ones where you kiss me on the cheek or vice versa, there are a lot more like that. 

I'm never going to send you naked pictures, hon.  But I encourage you to enjoy the heck out of this fine selection, OK? ;-)

Also, in the interest of full disclosure, when we got back to the barn on Sunday, I gave Callie a kiss on the nose because she kept me from embarrassing myself on the ride.  So, I name everything, and I kiss living creatures for whom I have great affection on their heads, but I only kiss you on the lips (because I blatantly, blatantly love you).  That's basically my personal mission statement for life. :-D  

Also, also, in the interest of even fuller disclosure, we didn't actually successfully sneak back a day early from our camping trip.  Tony obviously knew we came home, and so did April (she went riding that Monday morning and she knows what Agamemnon and Callisto look like).  She just chose to keep it to herself, but she could blackmail me with it if she ever needed to (she told me that).  I mean, it's one missed family dinner with your parents when they weren't expecting us, but still.  Though really, I think April just enjoys getting to roll her eyes at me whenever she wants.

But when you can come home – I won't tell if you won't tell.  I'll even call in sick to work for a couple of days if I need to. ;-)

Nice to know that your parents enjoyed the grilled cheese.  They both complimented me on it again last night, so I have been feeling super accomplished today.  And, we did have mashed potatoes with our meatloaf, I just didn't want to torture you with the full menu. We also had asparagus (better as a side than an ingredient in the meatloaf IMHO) but I figure you won't be jealous of that.

I am lonely sometimes, but that's not your fault.  Yes, it's because I miss you but I'm supposed to miss you, right?  Would you rather I didn't?  I wouldn't.  I just need to find things to do, like compiling special albums of kissing pictures.  Actually, I think I am going to take on some organizational projects around here as soon as school is out.  I enjoy a good organizational project, and that'll also make riding dates with April and your mom something to look forward to, a change of pace if nothing else.

(And if it ends up that you don't know where anything is because I rearranged it all while you were gone, well, I apologize in advance.)

I'm glad that you're in for the gross and boring stuff (not just the fun) when it comes to having kids. And I understand and completely support that you want to be here for our kids.  You're right, why have kids if we're not planning to be around to love and enjoy them?  But also, deciding to have kids and then actually having kids isn't instantaneous, that's why I wanted us to talk.  Well, one of the reasons.  I have lots of reasons we should talk, but that's because I'm me.

It's not like I think that having a child sometime later is going to help me not be lonely now.  But I kind of need another goal out there. Something to look forward to, anyway.  Master's – Check.  Teaching – I think I'm firing on all cylinders now (she says modestly).  I even think I'm fairly good at being married (please do not contradict – let me live in my delusion). 

OK, I'm going to stop now, just know that I heard (well, read) and appreciate what you had to say on the subject.  And, I'm never giving up on you.

One more thing – Losing my keys getting into the car this morning was a total dork move, and the fact that you were an ear witness to that is EMBARRASSING.  So, let's hope I don't make a habit of it.  But still, I fully endorse your offer to walk me to my car every morning, even if you do just turn around and go back to bed afterward.  (Though when you are being the great dad I know you will be, and driving our kids to school later so they can sleep in, you should probably NOT go back to sleep.)

Wow, I didn't even get to the elementary school gossip tonight.  I know you're going to be on pins and needles until I have time to bring you up to date.

Enjoy your lucky 13 (yes, I counted) kissing pictures.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Plus: XOXOXO

Love you!!

Heather

---

 

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

 

Wednesday May 31, 3:34 am (Baghdad Iraq) / Tuesday May 30, 6:34 pm (Denver CO)

4 months before the bombs

 

"Mornin' Auntie Gretchen," Jake greeted as his boss came on the line. 

"Good evening, Jake," she corrected with a dry chuckle.  "How're you doing, sweetie?"

"I've force switched my phone onto the military network," he informed her, "And I'm standing outside with nobody around, so let's not go overboard."

"You started it," she reprimanded mildly, "I was simply following your lead."

"Yeah, well, tech team loaded me up with all the best apps and stuff," Jake reminded.  "Long as none of the Army personnel Ravenwood's recruited work in telecom, should be good.  And this thing involves some Army personnel, no matter what Colonel Browning wants to think," he declared.  "Anyway, we should be good to talk.  And if I turn up dead after this call, then I screwed up, and you know what happened."

"Tech team did their job," she argued.  "I can't see where you're calling from."

"Right," he acknowledged.  "And, you do realize that when I log onto the DEA VPN from the Ravenwood network, they've got it set up so Ravenwood thinks I'm looking at porn."

"Well, I didn't not know that."

"At least my internet traffic looks like every other guy's here," Jake decided.  "Most of 'em anyway."

"See, the tech guys know what they're doing," she offered.  "Hiding in plain sight coupled with a little misdirection." 

"Probably get off on looking at porn at work – for work – too," he snorted.

"I'm not acknowledging that statement," Gretchen told him, making a tsking sound. "And Jake," she continued, sighing softly, "You're not gonna turn up dead because I forbid it." 

"Thanks," he muttered.

"But I do need to know that your head's in Iraq, Jake.  Especially given your email.  So, where's your head?"

"Right here.  Attached to my neck," he added churlishly.  "Above my shoulders.  Stuck in Iraq with the rest of me."

"That answer does not give me the warm fuzzies," she informed him.  "Do I need to pull you?"

"It wasn't a cry for help, Gretchen.  All you need to do is approve my vacation request," Jake countered.  "I'm here, my head's here.  Like ninety-eight percent, but I told you…." He exhaled through his teeth, betraying his irritation.  "I told you, I'm not cut out for this type of assignment anymore.  Doesn't mean I'm not gonna finish it, but …."  He trailed off, and there was a long pause before he demanded, "Just approve the request, okay?"

"Already approved," Gretchen said quietly, her voice carefully modulated to soothe.  "And, I've got three analysts tryin' to rachet up your alter ego's financial woes," she explained, with her next breath, her tone suddenly all business.  "They know to stay away from your marriage – marital issues – but I told them they can make fake Heather a spendthrift if they need to, okay?  Run up the credit card bills.  That shows up on every credit report pulled, and we at least know for sure that Ravenwood – Jennings & Rall – routinely pull their employees' credit reports, not just in the pre-employment stage."

"Long as real Heather never finds out, sure," Jake agreed begrudgingly.  "And, I get to use one of those fake credit cards to send her flowers someday, just for the hell of it – not for her birthday, just because – that or I'm gonna straight up expense them," he threatened calmly.  "We'll call it defending my not fake wife's honor."

"Fair enough," Gretchen agreed.  "Do you feel better now?"

Jake ignored her.  "I want final approval, slash, right of refusal on whatever the analysts come up with," he said.  "I have to pretend to live it, and it's my ass on the line."

"Of course," she murmured.  "I'm not taking any operational control away from you, Jake.  Just trying to take some work off you – the boring work.  You've still gotta do two jobs, you're still the one on the ground running the op.  The analysts are simply doing the research and filling in the details.  Everything they come up with is a proposal until you sign off.  Then once you sign off – if you sign off – they'll go to work to ensure we have the paper trail to back it up – back you up – okay?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged reluctantly.  "That's good.  Thanks."

"Of course," Gretchen repeated.  "And if this goes past September—"

"This goes past September, I'm out," Jake interjected.  "This goes past September, it's time to admit that I'm not the guy for this one."

"How about: if this lasts into September, you can send Heather flowers on me again, and if it lasts into October you can bail," she negotiated.  "Plus, Mellie can do all the paperwork for you.  The administrative stuff, anyway.  I still need regular field reports from you."

"She already does," he snorted.  "Which you know.  Except for this one vacation request.  But okay.  Anything else?"

"Can you forward the email from your mom about the ranch issues to your cousin Mellie?" Gretchen requested.  "I mean, I know you can, but are you willing?  Just to help focus the analysts.  They're young and wonky," she admitted, "And not necessarily up on all things ranching."

"Sure, I can do that," he conceded.  "My mom could too, FYI.  She's tech savvy like that.  Attached a bunch of pictures to the very email in question.  But I'm not forwarding those, just so you know.  So," Jake continued a moment later, "Anything I need to do in regards to Colonel – 'scuse me, Pastor – Browning?"

"Not for now.  I keep him up to date, and if you're minimizing your secure calls, I sure don't need you briefing him.  Just don't get yourself killed," she advised.  "He seems like he'd be touchy about that.  Pentagon wouldn't like it, that's for sure.  And, I'd never forgive you."

"Kinda against it myself.  And, Heather really would never forgive me.  She still seems to think I'm worth keepin' around," he muttered, "And she's the sole beneficiary to my life insurance, so that's sayin' something."

"That says a lot," Gretchen confirmed.  "That says true love.  And there are plenty of other people who also care whether or not you're around.  Your parents, family, the friends you pretend you don't have.  I care.  I think even Mellie would miss you," she joked.

"Right.  So, I'll keep my head in the game and not get myself killed.  Good?"

"Good," Gretchen declared.  "Are you ready for Heather's birthday?  Are you ready to not be home for her birthday?" Gretchen emphasized.

"Yep," he replied, his tone clipped.  "She's not happy about it, but I have a plan," he confirmed a moment later.  "Roses and jewelry will be delivered, I'm gonna call and Skype.  Not so worried about her birthday," he sighed.  "Little worried 'cause I'm gonna hafta involve her in killing off Gramps again, which…."  Jake trailed off again, unwilling to share that particular thought.

"You don't have involve her if you'd rather keep her out of it.  We can sub Mellie in for phone calls," she proposed.  "And, I can write the necessary emails.  Tech will make it look like it's her phone, her email."

"I'm not authorizing you, or Mellie – or anyone – hacking or impersonating my wife.  Sorry."  Jake emitted a grim chuckle.  "And, no way you can write an email that looks like it came from Heather," he told her, his tone turning derisive.  "Trust me on that.  Plus, she emails me every day.  We talk.  I'm not giving that up, and it would look weird – suspicious – if real and fake Heather were both in communication at the same time.  So, don't worry about it.  I'll take care of it."

"Okay then.  You have operational control," Gretchen reminded.  "And, hey, once you're back, bring Heather to Denver and your weekend's on me, whatever she wants to do.  I won't even invite myself to dinner, okay?  The least I can do."

"Well, I agree with you on that." Jake's bark of laughter was humorless but not harsh.  "And, no need to wait.  Feel free to pick up our vacation."

"Sorry, but my discretionary budget is no match for your trust fund," she informed him dryly.  "But I think we have a solid plan for turning you into that shiny object.  You're doin' good work, Jake."

"Thanks," he acknowledged, clearing his throat.  "And, uh, just so you know, I'm gonna wait 'til after her birthday to start the Gramps thing," he warned, turning at the corner of the tight, imaginary box he had been pacing in time to see Freddie Ruiz, Mike Something-or-other, and a pair of new drivers he hadn't yet been introduced to exit the dispatch office.  "People are startin' to show up for work, Auntie Gretch," he announced loudly, "Gotta go."

She groaned softly, admonishing, "Don't ever call me 'Gretch' again.  And Jake, keep your head in the game.  Take care of yourself.  And – whatever else – don't end up dead."

 

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

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Tue May 30 19:42 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: In Person Time

Attachments:

---

 Agent Green,

I'm suddenly enjoying the fact that you have 2 identities, one of which sounds so clandestine, Agent Green.  Writing to you at this email address is the closest I will ever get to having an affair.  (Though, for the record, I have no actual interest in having an affair.)

Thank you for the information about our trip.  I will make sure that April and your mom know that I have blackout dates for April Green's Riding Academy.  (Highly related to Jake Green's Horse Camp if you ever want to resurrect that.) 

I look forward to finding out where we are going (hint, hint). But I know how you are, Agent Green, always trying to surprise me, always telling me to be patient.

Also, I'm going to ask your mom if she minds keeping Baron while I'm gone.  I have heard a bit about what's going on with the ranch, and I don't want to give Tony one more thing to worry about.  Besides, Baron loves to be spoiled by Grandma, so I may just come back to find him turned into a town dog.  Plus, she can bring him out to the ranch with her when she's out to work or ride with April.  Seems like the best solution.

What else should I know about what's going on with the ranch?  Is there anything I can do?  As you recently reminded me, this is where I live, so I want to help if I can.  It's our "kingdom" after all.

OK, I need to go make sure I am ready for tomorrow's LAST MATH POP QUIZ OF THE YEAR.  (I may be slightly out of control.)

 

I love you!

Heather

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 18:54 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: In Person Time

Attachments:

---

 Heather -

As much as I am enjoying our little email thing here (also the closest I will ever get to having an affair) I think I need to remind you that all email sent from and received by this account is backed up on a server owned by the federal government. 

Also if/when I make an arrest/arrests this case will become the responsibility of a federal attorney whose first order of business will be to request a dump of my account for the period of time I have been undercover.  It's procedure.

So there's a good chance your emails to me will end up being the highlight of the day for some junior associate at whatever law firm is defending Ravenwood and has to comb through all the discovery the government dumps on them.  I don't feel sorry for that person but I want you to know there probably is such a person.

Some things need to come through this account.  But nothing is 100% private on either account.  Sorry.

More info on our trip soon.  Be patient!  Good idea to get the blackout dates to Mom and April.  Also makes sense to have Mom babysit Baron.

I thought I was supposed to resurrect Jake Green's Horse Camp whenever a grandchild of Joe Lisinski sets foot in Kansas?  I guess its not actually in our pre-nup (you missed the boat on that one Babe) but I think I'm still on the hook – with Kerry if not with you.  And I'm fine with being on the hook with you. 

All you need to know about the ranch is that my dad and Eric are going to be around more taking on some equine breeding.  And we'll probably have an operating loss this year.  The ranch isn't going anywhere.  Once I get home maybe we put a barn up on the homestead property just in case.  That would really get Johnston hot under the collar.

Love you

Agent Green

---

 

---

 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Wed May 31 19:03 (UTC+3)

To: Melanie Jones 'Mellie'

Subject: Ranch Assistance (was FW: Horseback pictures)

Attachments:

---

 

Hi Mellie -

Your mom asked me to forward this email from my mom.  Why the 2 of them can't just talk like normal people is a mystery.  My mom is embarrassed about the state of the ranch but that's really all on me.  Anyway I was thinking that Alan or the triplets might be able to help out too.  So pass this along to them for background and ask if they are willing ok?

Your mom also asked me for some pictures of my mom for the thing at church.  You know how to get them to the secretary right?  If you don't have any pictures you can always ask Heather.  She should have some to share.

Thanks Cuz

Jake

 

[FORWARDED MESSAGE FOLLOWS]

 

---

From: Gail Green

Sent: Tue May 30 09:04 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Horseback pictures

---

 

Hi Honey,

Heather asked me to send these to you.  Pictures from our ride on Sunday.  We had a lovely time, but we missed you.

. . .

---

 

---

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Wed May 31 19:06 (UTC+3)

To: Melanie Jones 'Mellie'

Subject: FW: Ranch Stuff

Attachments:

---

 

Hi Mellie -

And just so you have it, this is what I sent back to my mom. 

I really did plan to handle the breeding season myself this year, just a couple of months late.  But that's not going to happen now.  Also my dad is never going to give Tony a raise on my say so but maybe if you (favorite niece) and my mom can work on him together?  Anything you can do.  You are definitely my favorite cousin.

Jake

 

[FORWARDED MESSAGE FOLLOWS]

---

 

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Tue May 30 20:42 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: Ranch Stuff

---

 

Mom -

Thanks for the pictures from Sunday.  Loved the ones of Heather and Baron and Heather on Callisto. 

. . .

---

 

---

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Wed May 31 19:46 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Jake & Heather sittin' in a tree ...

Attachments:

---

 Hey Babe -

 

>> I'm never going to send you naked pictures, hon.  But I

>> encourage you to enjoy the heck out of this fine selection,

>> OK? ;-)

 

I'm good with your no naked pictures rule.  Some things are just between you and me and don't belong on the internet.  And I did / am / will enjoy this fine selection of pictures.  My new background slideshow.  Great choice of organizational project Babe.

You just go ahead and keep naming things and kissing animals on the head. But I am still switching pillows.  And when I get home you should definitely call in sick.  For a month.

Heather you may not be perfect (and I'm not sure I agree with that) but you're perfect for me.  Somebody (you) told me I could say that any time I wanted to so I'm saying it now.  You are great at being married – way better than me.  And when you make a dork move I just love you more.  Somebody (my mom) told me that I should make sure to tell you I loved you.  That it's good to know but better to say it – something like that.

I love you Heather.  I love love love love love you. 

I'm hot and tired and was in a pretty bad mood and then I saw your email.  Mood's better at least.  So I'm going to watch my computer background change for the next hour or so and then I'm guaranteed to get a good night's sleep. 

Love you

Jake

---

 

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

 

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 2.

I really am continuing to write this story, and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

Decoration Day is a practice is some parts of the United States and Liberia that involves individual families or churches performing maintenance and sometimes a religious service at a cemetery.  Decoration Day isn't always associated with Memorial Day, but for the Different Circumstances version of the Green family, they observe Decoration Day on the Sunday before Memorial Day.  In the Different Circumstances universe there is a private family cemetery on the Green Ranch.  Re-watching the pilot recently, I realized this is not supported by canon.  Although I (mis)remembered that Gail and Jake went to visit EJ's grave in a small, rural, private cemetery, that wasn't actually the case.  It was small and rural, but appeared to be public.  So, this is another small departure from canon – but if you're still here with me after all my other departures from canon, I think you will forgive me and may even think that the Greens' private family cemetery (established when Kansas was still a territory and a hotbed for political intrigue but not much actual governance) is a nice and fitting idea.

The 'It Ain't Easy Being Green' club is first mentioned in Different Circumstances, Part 2.  Jake claims it exists while Heather maintains it does not.  Gail also seems to be aware of the possibility of the club, mentioning it to Jake in Part 3B.  In Part 12A, we learn that the club actually does exist – and that it was invented by April.  She calls it a "super secret club" and says that she and Heather are founding members.  April then references the club again in Part 15B because sometimes the Jake and Eric sibling rivalry is a little too much for their significant others.  So the history of the club continues to grow….

The movie that Jake references that Heather has never seen (because it's not her kind of movie) is Fight Club.  ("The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.")  Fight Club is a 1999 American film directed by David Fincher and starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter. It is based on the 1996 novel of the same name by Chuck Palahniuk.

Pebbles Flintstone is a cartoon character, a baby with a distinctive pigtail hairdo sticking straight up from the top of her head and tied off with a bone barrette.  The Flintstones is an American animated sitcom produced by Hanna-Barbera Productions.

I do not breed horses for a living (or as a hobby), so I have tried to have Gail and Jake write realistically about the business, but any awful/blatant mistakes are mine, not theirs.  I hope you will forgive me.  I don't know if there was a shortage of ponies available in Kansas in 2007, and I admit that it is more likely that there wasn't.  Still, it let me give Gail another thing to suggest to Jake as a potential line of business for the Green Ranch.

The Princess Bride is a 1987 American fantasy comedy romance film directed and co-produced by Rob Reiner, starring Cary Elwes, Robin Wright, Mandy Patinkin, Chris Sarandon, Wallace Shawn, André the Giant, and Christopher Guest. Adapted by William Goldman from his 1973 novel of the same name, it tells the story of a farmhand named Westley, accompanied by companions befriended along the way, who must rescue his true love Princess Buttercup from the odious Prince Humperdinck.

Gail mistakenly referred to the Powerpuff Girls as the Powder Puff Girls.  I thought this was just the sort of mistake that Gail might make in overhearing a conversation about the show between Zoey, Janine, and Heather.  The Powerpuff Girls is an American superhero animated television series created by animator Craig McCracken and produced by Hanna-Barbera (later Cartoon Network Studios) for Cartoon Network. The show centers on Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, three kindergarten-aged girls with superpowers. The girls all live in the fictional city of Townsville with their father and creator, a scientist named Professor Utonium, and are frequently called upon by the city's mayor to help fight nearby criminals and other enemies using their powers.  Zoey is probably too young to actually know the Powerpuff Girls, but maybe she saw some re-runs.

I am also not an undercover federal agent, so I tried my best.  Hopefully what I've come up with for Jake's work life is not so jarring as to take away from the thread of this story.

 

 

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

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 2 

by Marzee Doats

 

Warnings:

I suppose I should issue a warning for foul language.  There is some in this chapter.

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.  This is partially an epistolary/letter-writing story (just email rather than snail mail), and there are timestamps on all emails.  Just remember that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so if you are looking at the timestamps and something seems out of order, it probably isn't, as our favorite couple is definitely living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.

This part also borrows the character of Freddie Ruiz from the episode The Day Before.  The Different Circumstances Alternate Universe is very alternate by this point, so I have to assume that you will forgive me if my version of Freddie Ruiz and the one depicted in that episode are not exactly the same.  This Jake is very different from that Jake too.  However, Ravenwood is still one evil company.  Freddie Ruiz previously appeared in Different Circumstances Part 8A.

 

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

Wednesday May 31, 8:12 pm (Baghdad Iraq)

4 months before the bombs

 

"What the hell's so funny?" Freddie Ruiz demanded, his inverted head suddenly appearing beside Jake's.

"What the hell," Jake complained in return, yanking his earbuds out by the wires and glaring at his friend.  "What're you doin'?"

"You've been laughing to yourself like a crazy person for the last twenty minutes," Freddie accused. 

"Sorry," Jake muttered.  It was an actual, written rule - in their signed contracts, no less - that you didn't make unnecessary noise in the sleeping quarters.  He hadn't thought he'd been that loud - or loud at all - but Freddy's bunk was barely three feet above his, and he'd been listening to music while he'd watched the slideshow of the pictures Heather had sent him.  And apparently chuckling not-so-silently to himself as he'd granted himself a half hour to enjoy something that took him away - mentally at least - from this miserable place.

The housing facility for Ravenwood contractors was both utilitarian and ramshackle, clearly slapped together in a hurry when Ravenwood and its parent company, Jennings & Rall, had needed to stand up their logistics operations in Baghdad posthaste.  The sleeping quarters were spartan, meant exactly for that - sleeping - plus providing each man a place to store his personal belongings.  Each room slept four, six, eight, or - in the case of the lowly support staff - ten men, and there was no guarantee that men forced to room together would have anything like compatible work schedules - or would be compatible.  Jake and Freddie had lucked out in that they had been assigned to a four-man room - but also had had the ill fortune to be assigned to share quarters with Greg Morgan and Patrick Abbott, both forty-something, both divorced with not insignificant child support obligations, both loud-mouthed and overbearing.  But Greg and Patrick needed their jobs and so they toed the line when it came to the housing rules at least.  This time of night, Jake knew, they were most likely to be found at the aspirationally named Pub Ravenwood, a small room in the dining and recreational facility next door, notable only for the fact that it was the one place in the Ravenwood complex that alcohol was allowed.   Most nights, Greg and Patrick were there from five to ten - the pub's operating hours - which suited Jake's purposes well.  He could usually count on having a few hours alone in their shared sleeping quarters to email his wife and get some work done on his second job. 

This evening, Jake had come back to the room right after grabbing dinner, turning down Freddie's invitation to play video games in the rec center.  More often than not, he joined Freddie, playing for an hour or so, just to have something to do, but tonight he'd begged off, telling his friend that he'd promised his aunt something and that there was some family business he needed to take care of, keeping it all rather vague.  Back in the room, he'd checked and then sent emails, including three inquiries that he hoped would firm up his plans for his anniversary trip with Heather, now only five weeks away. Those tasks accomplished, he'd pulled out his iPod, tuned it to his favorite loud music playlist, and then settled in to enjoy the photos Heather had sent him.  Freddie had come in about a half hour earlier, and they had nodded hello, but hadn't said anything else.  Living in such close quarters, it paid to respect some boundaries.

"Sorry," Jake repeated, glancing at Freddie, who continued to hang down over the edge of his own bunk above Jake's.  It was a funny sight, and Jake allowed a chuckle.  "I had bunk beds with my brother when we were kids, just I was on the top.  He always hated it when I hung over, and now I get it," he admitted.  "It's a little weird, you upside down like that."

Freddie shrugged.  "What're you laughin' at?"

"Email from Heather," Jake answered, shaking his head at his friend.  "She sent a bunch of pictures, and ...."  He stopped, not really wanting to say anything else.  Some things were private after all.  "Look, sorry I was laughing, it's just something between us.  Too hard to explain."

"What kinda pictures we talkin' about?" Freddie asked, throwing him a knowing grin.

"Not the kind you're thinkin' of," Jake grunted.  "And, just so you know, if she did send me that kinda picture, I wouldn't be tellin' you about it."

"Fair, fair," Freddie acknowledged.  "So, if it's not that, then what is it?"

Jake shook his head again, then - giving in - tapped the mousepad of his laptop to open a folder on his desktop.  "My mom sent me this the other day," he said, turning the laptop around on his chest so Freddie could see the picture of Heather kissing Baron on the top of his head.  "That's Baron - our dog.  So, yesterday I emailed her and made a little fun of her - old joke - for kissing the dog."  Jake turned the laptop back around so he could pull up another picture, one of the two of them under the mistletoe at his parents' Christmas open house a year and a half before.  "So, Heather sent me every picture she could find of us kissing," he continued, turning the computer once again so Freddie could see the picture. 

"Aw, how cute," Freddie smirked.  "But, Jake, man - hafta say - that's some real, old married guy shit you got goin' on there."

"Thanks," Jake grumbled, glaring benignly at his friend.  He turned the laptop again so only he could see the screen. 

"But you're an old married guy, so that makes sense, you bein' into old married guy-"

"Shit?" Jake interjected.  "Yeah, I got all kinds of shit goin' on.  All I've got right now is shit.  Shitty problems." 

He paused and took a breath, realizing that he was going to do it.  Gretchen had set the analysts on constructing the story he would eventually pitch to Ellison and any other Ravenwood or Jennings & Rall stooge he needed to, but that was just the paper details.  He had to live - had to sell - those details.  It wouldn't hurt to lay a little groundwork, get some practice in.  And Freddie was a good, neutral candidate to try things out on.  So, Jake found himself deciding, then and there, that he was going to test drive his enhanced cover story on his friend.

"Shitty problems," he repeated.  "Money problems.  And ranch problems.  My dad's pissed 'cause I'm not home and the ranch is falling apart without me - not that he'd admit it.  That I can do it - run the ranch.  And-" Jake cut himself off before he could set up his grandfather for another rapid decline, followed by death.  He wasn't quite ready to introduce that element.

"Well, Heather's not too happy with me either," he muttered, concentrating for the moment on his computer's screen and the picture currently displayed.  Jake was pretty sure he'd never seen it before an hour ago, but it was a good picture and a nice - if slightly awkward - memory.  It had been taken at the ranch - they were in the hospital barn - and Jake recognized the moment as the first time Heather had witnessed the equine breeding process.  He'd been about to take the second mare in question off to be cleaned and prepped, and Heather had stopped him to offer him a kiss - and to let him know that she had only been slightly weirded out by the goings-on with the first mare. 

"Not happy I'm here - that I'm not home," he continued.  "Not happy because she wants to have a kid," he threw in - because that was true, no matter how much she'd tried to retract it in her emails - before adding the false embellishment of: "Really not happy because we can't afford to have a kid."  He expelled a heavy breath, letting his eyes close for a moment.  "But still.  She went looking for these pictures.  She sent 'em to me, told me to 'enjoy the heck out' of 'em," Jake confessed.  "So, that's somethin'.  Probably is old married guy shit, but still, it's somethin'."

Freddie disappeared then, pulling himself back up into his bunk, but in the next instance, he was climbing out, on the ladder, dropping the last twenty inches to the floor.  "You guys have been married, like, three years, right?" he asked, taking two and half steps to the far end of the room to pull the lone chair out from its spot under the shared desk - in reality a three-foot wide, twenty inch deep, strip of table mounted to the wall between two of the four closets. 

"Four years in July," Jake answered, leaning out of his bunk and craning his neck to see what Freddie was up to.

His friend dragged the chair down to the head of Jake's bunk, seating himself.  "That's why she wants to have a kid.  Good Catholic girl," Freddie opined, "Of course she wants a kid."  Freddie had latched onto the fact that Heather, like himself, was Catholic early in his friendship with Jake.  It didn't matter that as far as Jake could tell, Freddie was as much of an irregular church-goer as Jake himself was, Freddie had decided that he and Heather shared a bond.  He'd been an altar boy for a few years - to make his abuela happy - and he was always promising that his fiancée, Ana, would light a candle to assist with any problem, so that was enough for Freddie to consider himself an authority - at least compared to Jake - on all things Catholic.  "You should already have at least two kids," he informed Jake.  "Maybe one, with one on the way, since she's, you know, white people Catholic."

"She's not that Catholic," Jake grumbled, falling back on Heather's usual line.  "And, what the hell 're you doin'?"

"If you're Catholic, you get married and have kids.  That's just what we do," Freddie argued.  "You're here to make money to save your ranch, right?  I'm here to make money so I can marry Ana, and we can have a bunch of kids.  Like I said, what we do."

"I went and did all the Catholic things I had to do so we could get married," Jake told him.  "I know the rules.  I agreed to 'em.  And, we're gonna have kids - Catholic kids.  Just can't have 'em now, while I'm here and she's there.  Obviously."

"So, tell her you guys can have a kid soon as you get home," Freddie advised, shrugging.  "That's really all she wants to hear.  But you hafta mean it, or then you're just an asshole.  Now," he said, gesturing toward Jake's laptop, "Let's see these pictures."

Jake threw his friend a skeptical look.  "I don't think she sent them so I'd show 'em around."

"You already showed me one," Freddie countered.  "And it's not like you're showin' 'em to them," he said, cocking his head toward the other side of the room, where Greg's and Patrick's bunks were. 

Jake grunted.  He was extremely careful to not even talk about Heather in front of Greg and Patrick, so much so, that it was possible they didn't know her name.  He hoped to hell they didn't know her name.   "Yeah, that's never gonna happen."

"It's not like she's naked, right?" Freddie continued.  "You were in public, there were other people in the one I saw.  And your wife's cute.  I mean, she could totally be my cousin, just the kinda cousin where I can be like, 'yeah, she's cute' and it's not weird."

"It's a little weird," Jake returned, but still he turned the laptop again so Freddie could see, then started the slideshow. 

 

For the most part, even though his cover story was built around his real life, he had still tried to keep the two Jake Greens separated - to compartmentalize - but the one place he'd let that slip was with Freddie.  At first, Freddie had just been the guy who'd shown him where his bunk was, where they reported to work, where they picked up food and water for the day, that sort of thing.  But Freddie had invited him to hang out at dinner the first few nights, and they had started to talk about things - the heat at first, and how bad the food was, then baseball. 

Finally, a week in, Freddie had asked about his wife, pointing at Jake's wedding ring.  "I'm gonna get married," he'd confessed, "Soon as I make enough money, and can get outta here.  Ana," he'd said, pulling a picture out of his wallet and handing it to Jake.  "We've been together since high school, and now her little sisters are both graduated - after her mom died, somebody had to take care of 'em.  Her big sister's in Houston, and just had her fourth kid, so....  If we can get some money together, you know?"

"She's pretty," Jake had told him after studying the picture for ten or fifteen seconds.  "But what's she doin' with you?" he'd joked, pulling his own wallet out and extracting a snapshot of his wife. 

"Funny," Freddie had grumbled.

"Heather," Jake had offered then, handing both pictures to Freddie.  "Been together basically since we met," he'd continued, clearing his throat.  "'Bout four and a half years ago.  Married almost four."

"She's cute," Freddie had replied, joking, "But why'd she ever go for you, unless you knocked her up?"

"You sound like all of her brothers," Jake had complained, groaning softly.  "And, I didn't knock her up," he'd told Freddie.  "So, must just be because I'm one lucky bastard."

"That's for sure," Freddie had agreed.  They had been friends ever since.

 

"Okay, that's a little more... somethin' than the last one," Freddie decided, smirking at his friend.  "Not quite so old married guy."

"We went - we went on this road trip," Jake explained, catching himself in the nick of time.  This Jake Green didn't have a pilot's license - and he definitely didn't have the resources to fly to Wyoming for lunch.  "Like a month after we started dating, and this was in front of a diner we stopped at.  We hadn't known each other that long, but still, I pretty much knew."

Freddie nodded.  "Yeah, looks like it."

The picture had changed to one Heather's sister-in-law had taken of them in Buffalo, four and a half years before.  "That's at the engagement party her dad threw for us."  The picture advanced again, and Jake continued his narration.  "Wedding rehearsal.  So, practice."

Freddie snorted.

The picture changed once more, and Jake explained, "This is the rehearsal dinner.  We had it at the same place as our first date.  And, where I had my first official job in high school, washing dishes.  So," he carried on as another picture appeared on the screen, "This is the 'you may kiss the bride' moment for real."

"That's a nice wedding dress," Freddie announced, "Expensive."

Jake frowned at the other man.  "And you know this how?" he chuckled uneasily, mentally kicking himself.  He hadn't thought this through, that much was obvious.  Their wedding had been nice - big and elegant - and while Heather had been very conscious of what they were spending - had tried to rein things in - they had still had a wedding that was way beyond the means of this Jake Green.  Plus, they had splurged on a few things, including her dress.  Their wedding - this picture, and the ones that Jake knew followed it - didn't match his cover story, and Freddie had spotted it right off the bat.

"I'm not a weirdo," his friend defended himself.  "My mom's a seamstress - she makes lots of wedding dresses, and that's a really nice, designer, expensive dress," he said, gesturing at the screen.  The picture had changed to a second, closer shot of the kiss - and of Heather's dress - which just confirmed Freddie's statement.  "That's all I'm sayin'," he finished.

Nodding, Jake blew out a quick breath, closing the laptop just as the slideshow advanced to a picture taken during their rather swanky wedding reception at the Jericho Grille. "Well, Heather's dad's got money, and she's his only girl," he said, offering an explanation that was at least half true. 

Heather was his only daughter, and Joe Lisinski had been extremely generous in his contribution toward their wedding, particularly taking into account all that the Lisinski clan had had to spend in order to attend their wedding in Kansas, when they had all always assumed that Heather would get married in Buffalo.  Heather had objected - Jake, too - that it was too much when her father had insisted on sending her a check for sixty-three hundred dollars, telling her that he'd always had something set aside for her wedding, and that he'd finally sold her mother's car, and that there had been a little bit left over from Renate's life insurance proceeds after he'd paid all the funeral costs.  "Let's put this toward something happy, sweetheart," Joe had proclaimed.

"She and her brothers always call him 'thrifty'," Jake continued.  "And they mean cheap," he added, overselling the point.  "But her wedding?  That loosened up the purse strings."

"Makes sense.  But if he's got all that money, why didn't you ask him for a loan?  Why don't you ask him for one now?" Freddie suggested.  "He wants grandkids, right?  He loans you the money, you can go home, get his daughter pregnant, everybody wins."

"He's got grandkids already, seven of 'em," Jake answered, glad to be back to the truth - the whole and complete truth - if only for a split second.  Joe - his real father-in-law, not the one he was fabricating on the spot - would be as excited for his eighth grandchild as he'd been for each of the seven who had come before.  "And, if I asked him for money - especially for the ranch - I'm pretty sure he'd just turn around and offer to pay for Heather's divorce lawyer.  It'd be cheaper, and he'd like that better anyway."  He was back to making things up, and the only saving grace was that Joe - and Heather - would never know.

"Catholic dad, only daughter?" Freddie returned skeptically.  "Besides, she wants a kid. She's prob'ly not lookin' to divorce you."

Jake shook his head 'no', closing his eyes for a moment.  He knew better than to mix too much of his real life into his work life, but God dammit, he'd still made the mistake.  He trusted Freddie, but the risk was undeniable - for Freddie and him both.  He wasn't going drag his friend any further into this mess.  "Not today anyway," he muttered.  "But I'm not gonna chance askin' her dad for money, either.  Just gonna keep doin' this, long as I can manage - long as my mom doesn't call to tell me she's moved out."

"Yeah," Freddie acknowledged, resting his chin on the back of his chair.  "You and me both, man."

 

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

 

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 20:48 (UTC+3)

To: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA)

Subject: Background

Attachments:

---

 

Gretchen

I may have f'ed up tonight.  I don't know. 

I was talking to my roommate (Freddie Ruiz – clean background check. Trust me he's just here to drive and make money so he can marry his HS sweetheart) and I showed him a picture from our wedding.  Turns out his mother is a seamstress and he can spot a quality wedding dress.  Doesn't fit the cover story at all.  I told him fake Heather's dad has money.  

Can the analysts go to work on setting that up just in case?  Make me the idiot son in law he didn't want his only daughter to marry (paid for the big wedding anyway) and he'd sure as hell never loan real money to.  Probably he'll convince her to leave me and move home in a couple of years and put our kids in private school and never let me see them.  That's the kind of story we need to build. 

I may have said his name.  I don't know what I said.  It's Joe so you don't have to look that up.  Make sure he has 7 grandkids and 4 sons.  Basically, real Heather's family with fake Heather's maiden name – Lind. 

 

Jake 

 

---

 

---

From: SAIC G Tolliver (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 12:01 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

CC: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: Background

Attachments:

---

 

Jake,

 

We'll take care of this, don't sweat it. 

I'm putting Ange Waller over the analysts to keep everything moving and so you know this is a priority.  You are Ange's only assignment for the duration.  You always worked well together, and I figure you'd be okay with her contacting Heather if we need to, just to get the details 100% right.

Don't beat yourself up,

Gretchen

 

---

 

---

From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 12:14 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Background

Attachments:

---

 

Jake,

 

I'm on it. 

We'll leave the important but boring stuff to the triplets.  That was funny.  And describes how they dress literally every day.  I have to assume they coordinate the day before.

What kind of rich should I make Joseph Lind?  Minor millionaire or just a guy who can comfortably drop $25K on his daughter's wedding?

And kids, huh?  Are you and Heather finally taking that plunge?  It's about time.  But that's how we can tell the difference between the real Heather and the fake Heather.  Real Heather would never keep your kids from you.  And I honestly doubt you could screw up enough that she'd ever divorce you, either.

Seriously, it's all under control.  I'll send you a Joseph Lind dossier for your approval by the end of my day and we'll start feeding you materials for Operation Shiny Object tomorrow.

I'm available to you 24/7, and I'm matching my vacation to yours – Steve will be so excited.  What's your relationship to the Janine in the ranch email?  Okay if I assume the name in case we need to talk on an unsecure line?  That, or I can be Angie Jones, your other favorite cousin.

 

Ange 

 

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 21:27 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: Background

Attachments:

---

 

Ange

 

Heather still calls you my guardian angel and tonight I 100% agree. 

My real father in law works for the hydroelectric company in upstate NY.  Let's move him to KS and put him back in the energy business. Ethanol producer, maybe?  Just check that Jennings & Rall (or any subsidiaries) doesn't work in the space.

Able to come up with $20K – $30K for a wedding but most $$ invested back in the business.  3 of the 4 sons can work for the family business – that would make me the rancher/ungrateful son in law who won't take the job he's offered at the family firm and instead runs off to Afghanistan/Iraq to drive trucks.  Just another in a long series of questionable choices.  Heather aside obviously.

So minor millionaire?  But not a ton of liquid assets.

Real Heather would kill me if I didn't let her fake baby brother (4th son) go off to med school like he's supposed to.

Janine is my cousin's wife.  Feel free to assume her name. 

Tell Steve I'm sorry for ruining your plans.  And see if you can get him to check the triplets work for me.

 

Jake

 

---

 

---

 From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 12:48 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Background

Attachments:

---

 

Jake,

 

I'm here for all the compliments, and Heather is on my top ten list of friends for life.  So, I will happily take guardian angel, even though I know she was making a pun.  I will also be Janine if and when I need to be.  Janine Green (God, that's awful) or Janine Jones?  Or do you get email from your real cousins and I need to match a known name?

No need to apologize re: the vacation.  Steve has been trying to get me to commit to dates.  You forced my hand/made his summer.  We're going fishing in Montana.  I married an accountant for a reason (actually many reasons), and it was not so I could go fishing in Montana.  I am sure he will be happy to check the triplets' work.  Don't threaten him with a good time.

Don't think I didn't notice how you didn't answer my question about you and Heather and babies.  I'll take that as a definite yes.

Off to construct some financial records for my new favorite fake family, the Linds. 

Get some sleep, Jake.  Remember what they told us at the academy.  Sleep keeps you alive and sane.  You need to be both.

 

Ange 

 

---

 

---

 From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Wed May 31 17:57 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: In Person Time

Attachments:

---

 

 Agent Green,

 

Noted.

Also, not entirely sure I care.  I mean the poor junior associate at the amoral, soulless corporate law firm?  They probably need to read my emails.  Help wake them up to what's important.

I'm just going to amend our pre-nup to include the Jake Green Horse Camp requirement. Wouldn't be the first time I've done that, and all my other requirements are in there after all.  I'd like to see you take me to court over that, mister. :-)  Oh, soulless corporate attorney, what say you?

I'm sorry to hear about the operating loss.  That's not your fault, Hon.  You're working 2 jobs already – you can't work a third on another continent.  Your dad can't blame you for doing YOUR JOB. 

So, I can rearrange closets and stuff, can fix cars and tractors, I have even learned how to do basic to intermediate home repair. But I am pretty sure you don't want me building a barn, so I will definitely leave all that up to you.  But there's got to be a way to do it without making your dad mad.  And if you were just blowing off steam, ignore me.  You get to be annoyed with him when you are annoyed him.

WHERE ARE WE GOING??? (Obligatory impatient question.)

Oh, almost forgot.  This is borderline as to which account to send it to, but better safe than sorry.  Mikey is officially going to Yale Medical School!!!  It took us all (down to Gabby and Joey, just not Megan because she doesn't actually talk yet), but we finally convinced him.  It means a lot more loans and stuff, but I told him we (you and me, I wasn't committing the rest of the family though I think they're all in) will only give him cash for every present for the next 10 – 20 years if that's what it takes.  Anyway, I'm a super proud big sis.

Love you!

 

Heather

 

---

 

---

From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Wed May 31 17:13 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Joseph Lind

Attachments: JosephLindBio.doc; JosephLindFinStmt.doc

---

 

Jake,

 

For your approval. 

We're planning to put up a website for Lind Ethanol LLC (the website was the triplets' idea, I named the company), so do I need to ask Heather for a picture(s) we can turn into a headshot?  Or can I just use our vast store of stock photos?  Basically, what are the chances someone there has seen a picture of your father-in-law?  Was he in the wedding picture?

I'm off to get my kid, but call or email at any time.  I mean it.

 

Ange 

 

---

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Wed May 31 19:34 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Jake & Heather sittin' in a tree ...

Attachments:

---

 

Hi Jake,

 

I agree 1000% with your mom.  It is definitely good to know I am loved, but it's way better to be told that.  Thank you.  I needed that, and I didn't even know I needed that.  I've printed out your email and taped it to the bathroom mirror.  It's like my daily affirmation until you come home.  I cried a little, but it was the good kind of crying.  So, thank you.  And I love you too.

I think you also need to hear it, so:

I love love love love love you.  Jake Green, I love you so much I can't even tell you.

Turns out you are also perfect for me.  After all, who else would just think my occasional/horrifyingly frequent dork moves are cute?  Plus be good with my no naked pictures rule and happy for just a bunch of kissing pictures?  Really, I totally lucked out.

I hope you got a good night's sleep last night.  I hope you get a good night's sleep tonight.  I know you're working too hard.  I can't do anything about that, but I can send you email and pictures and my love.  So that's what I'll do.  (Is there a way to send care packages?  I would totally send you good peanut butter, homemade peanut butter cookies, anything you want.  You always say no, but really?  That doesn't seem possible.)

I feel like I should just sign off after all that, but I'd still end up sending you another email, so we'll just label this the awkward transition.

 

First, not to be a killjoy, but I also love my job (not as much as I love you, but still) and if I take off sick for a month, they're going to ask for a Dr.'s note, and as you know, my Dr. is not likely to give me one. I suppose hospitalization would also be an acceptable excuse, but that's against the rules – and those are the rules we will be operating under when you come home, just so we're clear.  However, aside from me needing to go to school and teach, we can become the Hermit/Recluse Greens, okay?  Totally anti-social.

Stanley says "Hi!"  We ran into each other at the Jade Dragon because apparently, we both had a hankering for Moo Shu Pork. (We were also the only 2 people picking up Chinese at 4:45 on a Wednesday.)  I'm only telling you this because you always get me Moo Shu Pork even though you could happily do without.  And you always order me extra pancakes and plum sauce. :-)  And you still let me steal some of your Kung Pao.  Just one of the bazillion things I love and appreciate about you. 

Since we weren't actually eating together you would've thought Stanley wouldn't be able to work in his favorite line – "it's Chinese, it's a burrito, it's Mexican" – but those were his parting words of wisdom after he walked me to the car.

The Moo Shu was delish, and now I have dinner for tomorrow too. But the best part was the fortune in my cookie – "Love can last a lifetime if you want it to".  They actually threw in 2 cookies, but the second fortune was not as good.  "A stranger is a friend you have not spoken to yet."  That's a run of the mill fortune, but that first one really got me.  So, I'm going to tape the first fortune onto my (well, your) email on the mirror.

Now for the elementary school gossip. Actually, more of a dork moment for me than actual gossip. (Though there has been a giant shakeup in the Ashley – Emma – Samantha – Maddy B clique that I haven't completely figured out.)  But since having made another dork move will just make you love me more, and I'm working to make fortune #1 come true, you are going to get to read all about it.

 As you know, my set of twins this year are Madison L and Jacob L, not to be confused with Maddison B (who goes by Maddy as referenced above) or Jacob W.  (I've had one set of twins every year I've taught, but there isn't a set of twins in 2nd grade, so unless some move to town over the summer, I will be without next year. There are 2 sets in the 1st grade this year, including what will be my first set of identical twins.) 

Anyway, Madison and Jacob's mother, Mrs. Landeros was (like every other kid's mother) telling me about her kids' summer plans.  I always find these conversations to be really funny because I also have the kids tell me about their summer plans and I have literally never gotten a report from a kid that is even in the same county as their mom's.

Kids will say: I'm going swimming, and I'm going to spend the night at grandma's, and I'm going to have ice cream, and we're going to make cookies.  So basically, kids talk about what they think the first weekend of summer vacation will be like.  Occasionally, I will hear about a planned trip, but it has to be a good one, like Disney World.  Maddy B and Ashley are both going to the same month-long sleep-away camp in Missouri, leaving the day after school's out so they both talked about that.  (Could be a factor in the clique-killing blow up.) 

Side note: Not sure I could send my 9 year old off for a month without me but I guess they both went to a week of sleep-away camp last year and really loved it.

Moms say: I bought a 4th grade math/science/reading workbook at Costco, we're signing up for the summer reading program at the library, we're doing the parks and rec day camp, we're going to X for a week, where we can do Y educational activity, etc. etc.  (The moms clearly think I'm grading them on how well they mom.)

So Mrs. Landeros is telling me about how Madison and Jacob are going to the "A" summer school session (the one that runs second half of June/first half of July) in Fielding (neither of them needs to, but they have some enrichment classes for the not academically challenged kids that will be good for them) and clearly I'm only half listening to her because she said something like "the hardest part is going to be getting Jake out of bed on time, he's just naturally a sleep til noon guy" and I agreed with her.  I even said something like "Trust me I know".  At which point we both realized that I'm talking about you and she's talking about her son.  So, of course I'm blushing and she's laughing and then she says "Sounds like my Jake and your Jake have that in common".

I honestly didn't know that Jacob went by Jake.  I always ask my students what they want to be called, and I pay attention to what they call each other, and I've never once heard anyone call him (or the other Jacob) Jake.  I've actually never had a student named or called Jake since I met you.  (I don't think I had one before I met you either.  That's why my family all called you Cowboy Jake back when.  A real, live Jake was a novelty.)  You are of course the most important Jake there is as far as I'm concerned, and it's still weird for me to find out that there are other Jakes besides you in the world. :-)

Also, I forget sometimes that everyone I meet seems to already know who I'm married to, and they definitely all know who you are.

Anyway, she didn't seem to think I was being unprofessional or anything.  Just thought it was funny.  Invited me to call her Melissa, and since school's out in a week, I told her to call me Heather.

I felt bad for telling someone I hardly know that you'd prefer to sleep until noon, especially since right now you're killing yourself with work, have to get up way early, and you basically have the same bedtime as my students.  So, I told her, keeping it vague, that you're out of town for work right now and you're not getting many (any) chances to sleep in.  She didn't seem to be aware of that so maybe everyone in town isn't monitoring our every move like I think they are. (Am I self-centered or what?)  Do you even know who Melissa Landeros is?  Her husband is Chuck (I think). 

Now if you stuck with me to the end of this email you really do love me.  Of course, that works out because I really love you.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Love you!!

 

Heather

 

---

 

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

Thursday June 1, 2:48 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Thursday June 1, 6:48 am (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

 

Jake, having finished maneuvering the rig into its place, turned off the engine and then reached behind his seat to retrieve his personal items.  Every driver carried food and at least a day's worth of water with him.  The mechanics kept the trucks running as best they could, but the heat and constant use - they drove seven days a week - took a toll on the rigs, and on the people.  If a rig overheated or broke down, it was hard to say how long the driver might be stuck out with it in the relentless Iraqi heat.  They weren't allowed to leave the trucks because of the cargo - though the Security Services guys would show up pretty quickly if the load was deemed important.  But if you were just hauling ordinary supplies, you had to stick it out until someone could come pick up your shipment - and you.  So, Jake always carried water, and lots of it.  If there was one thing he was trying to avoid it was heat exhaustion or - worse - heat stroke.  After all, he was under orders to not end up dead, and that was his preference, too.

He also carried a backpack - as did most drivers - with his valuables.  This included his laptop and his satellite phone, somewhat concealed inside a leather case that was identical to the shaving kit sitting back in his closet in the Ravenwood housing facility.  It wouldn't take anyone too long to figure out that something wasn't on the up and up if it were ever seen, so Jake made sure that it wasn't.  His personal/unsecured cell phone was also in his backpack's front pocket, and he could hear it ringing, as he pulled the bag over the seat.  Quickly, he zipped the pocket open, grabbing the phone and flipping it open before it could go to voicemail, announcing somewhat gruffly, "Jake Green."

"Hi Jake Green," his wife greeted, her voice a sultry caress across the more than seven thousand miles that separated them.

"Hey, babe," he returned, allowing himself to relax for a split second before he thought better of it and demanded, "What's wrong?"

"Oh God, sorry," Heather apologized quickly.  "No emergency, nothing's wrong, I promise."  This was the trickiest part of their eight-time zone separated day: that time each day when she was leaving for work and he was coming off shift - or at least he was supposed to be.  She never called him at this time, not wanting to add to his stress, to the burden or complexity of either of his jobs.  If he called her, that was fine, but when she called him - and it was rare - it was almost always during her lunchtime half hour break when he was definitely off, but not yet sleeping.  So, she understood why he'd assume that something was wrong, or she was calling with bad news.  "I just really wanted to hear your voice this morning, and I was completely prepared to get your voicemail and leave a message.  Should I do that?"

"Call back so you can get my voicemail?" he asked, his tone a mixture of amusement and confusion.  "Or, you just wanna give me your message?  Or - and this is my preferred option - just talk to me like we were normal people who - you know - talk to each other?"

"Can you talk now?" she inquired, "Even for five minutes?  'Cause if it's a bad-"

"If you've got five, and can give me one, we can talk right now," he interrupted.  "I just got back to base and I hafta turn my rig over to the maintenance team.  But then I'm all yours.  Not a bad time, promise."

"Well actually, I've got a whole twenty minutes. Maybe even twenty-two."

"Okay, gimme a minute," Jake requested.  He climbed out of the cab then, his backpack and cooler bag slung over one shoulder.  There was a mechanic waiting for him, and he handed over the keys, telling the other man, "For once, no issues to report.  A/C was even good today.  Thanks." 

"So," he continued, turning his concentration back to Heather as he began to make his way toward the dispatch office.  "If nothing's wrong, what's goin' right?"

She chuckled at that, and Jake caught himself grinning at the sound.  Generally, he enjoyed listening to his wife more than anyone else, but now, after so long apart, just the sound of her voice was more than enough to lift his mood - and her laugh sent it skyrocketing - instantly. 

"I don't know that it's going right, exactly.  I'm a little nervous, to be honest," she confessed.  "That's why I wanted to hear your voice - even your voicemail message.  'Jake Green, leave a message,'" Heather quoted, affecting a deeper and slightly annoyed tone.

"That - okay, that probably is what I sound like - sort of," he admitted.  "But that's not for you, I'm just trying to weed out telemarketers.  If you were the only one who called me, I'd be way nicer."

"Well, I would have totally settled for your grumpy and vague voicemail message, but actually getting to talk to you is way better."

"So, what's got you feeling nervous, babe?"

"I'm parked at school, waiting to go in," she told him.  "I'm meeting with Mrs. McVeigh at seven fifteen.  She's not here yet though.  She called me last night at, like, eight thirty and asked me to come in early so we could discuss something.  Not a staff meeting - just me."

"That doesn't mean it's bad, Heather," Jake soothed.

"I know," she returned, sounding very unsure of her statement - of herself.  "And she specifically promised to bring in coffee for me.  Can't be that bad, right?"

"Exactly," he assured.  "I bet she's getting ready to announce that she's retiring and you're the principal next year," Jake predicted.  "Wants to warn you ahead of the official announcement.  Coffee's to celebrate."

"That is not gonna happen," Heather replied.  "And, maybe the coffee is to soften the blow.  Our enrollment isn't exactly growing, I could see them combining some grades in the next year or two.  It's not like I have actual seniority.  Only over Amber and Gina, so first and fifth grade."

"Mrs. Parker was my fourth-grade teacher, and, yeah, Mrs. Lowell wasn't my second-grade teacher, but she's been there just as long.  Mrs. Walker is still there, for God's sake, and she was old when I was in the sixth grade," he catalogued.  "Obviously, there isn't a mandatory retirement age, but there sure as hell should be.  Mrs. McVeigh isn't gonna let them stick around another year or two if it forces you out," Jake argued.  "I still say she's retiring.  That, or they're gonna make you vice principal.  You're an amazing teacher and they all know it.  You should be running the place."

"Well, that's why I called you," she admitted, an anxious hitch in her voice, "For the pep talk, so thank you."  She sighed deeply - trying to calm herself, Jake thought - before continuing.  "And you know, last fall, Mrs. McVeigh really was all gung-ho about appointing me vice principal, but the superintendent, the school board, they wouldn't go for it.  Budgetary concerns.  Which makes sense, given the declining - well, stagnant - enrollment."

Jake had known that Mrs. McVeigh had wanted to make Heather her vice principal - she'd been excited about the idea, and they had discussed what that would mean for them over their Labor Day camping trip at the end of the previous summer - but he had never heard why it hadn't gone anywhere.  "You didn't tell me that it was being blocked," he chided gently.  "You should've, Heather.  I would've told them all off at my parents' Christmas party."

"I didn't know until a couple of weeks ago.  I think Mrs. McVeigh felt like she had to level with me.  And, you can't go telling all of my boss's bosses off, especially at your parents' party."

"Sure, I can," he contradicted.  "I'm allowed to defend my wife's honor, and that includes to the school board.  And, you should've told me, babe.  When you found out.  I need to know what's happening at home," he reminded.  "Helps keep me connected - and sane."

"I know, I'm sorry," Heather apologized.  "But I was a little - or more than a little - disappointed, and I don't wanna spend the limited time we get to talk whining to you about my job.  I just don't."

"I'm the person you're supposed to whine to," Jake countered.  "And, I whine to you about my job."  He exhaled a frustrated breath.  "Look, I really think it's gonna be good news, whatever it is.  And if it's not - if they're gonna make the incredibly stupid move of laying Gina, and then Amber, and then you off - then screw 'em," he declared.  "We'll just go have a kid, and then when they're begging you to come back, you can say, 'Sorry, come talk to me in a year or two.  I'm busy.'"

"God, Jake," she groaned, before falling silent.

"Okay, so that was the wrong thing to say," he chuckled nervously a long moment later.

"Kinda," she muttered.  "Look," she continued, taking a long breath, "I don't want starting a family - starting our family - to be my consolation prize if I have a career setback.  Because what if I don't?  What if you're right, and it's good news?  I don't want that to be a reason we put off having kids.  I don't want to put that off.  We just need to divorce these-"

"Well, fuck."

There was silence on the line for a few seconds, but then, finally, Heather reacted.  "Oh God, no!  No.  No, no, no!  No!  That's not what I meant," she insisted, and he could hear the sob threatening in her tone.  "Jake-" 

"You sure about that?" he demanded.  His head was swimming and he felt the strong urge to throw up, as if he'd been sucker punched.  "'Cause, damn Heather, that's a helluva word to - to just throw out there."

"It was a mistake, Jake.  I - you know I just say - blurt out - the wrong things sometimes.  That - that was just the most supremely awful word choice in my long history of wrong word choices," she claimed, her pitch rising in distress.  "I am so sorry.  I wasn't thinking - not about what I should've been thinking about.  I love you, I'm not - I'm not - I did not mean that - that word."

Jake took a breath, forcing himself to think.  He was tired and stressed, and he knew instinctively that she hadn't meant anything by that particularly unfortunate turn of phrase.  He was the one on edge, after all.  He was the one whose mental fitness was suddenly in question.  He was the one who had reacted all out of proportion to what was, in the end, just a word.

And, she didn't know about his disastrous talk with Freddie, or the background Ange Waller and the triplets were now manufacturing to cover his ass.  She - the real Heather, the most important person in his life - didn't know that fake Heather had to look like, maybe, she had one foot out the door.  She couldn't - would never - know that what she'd just done with a slip of the tongue - if Ravenwood really was monitoring, recording, sifting through his communications - might be the key piece to, as Gretchen had said, "cracking this nut".  It would be so easy to play it up, challenge her on what she'd said.  Throw in a reference to financial troubles and issues with the ranch, really build upon the story - but also, hopefully, signal what it was he was doing.  If she caught on, he knew she would go along with it, as best she could, because that was his wife. 

But he couldn't do that.  He refused to put her through that.  He wouldn't react to her statement to further build his cover story, to make the other Jake Green into the shiny object that would give him the "in" he needed.  He needed to keep things separate - had always worked to keep things separate, divorced - and he would not let this assignment bleed into their real relationship.  It was why he was, so clearly, no longer cut out for this job. 

"It's okay, Heather," he acknowledged, exhaling softly, trying to calm his sympathetic nervous system's natural fight or flight response.  "I - I believe you.  It's just usually when you blurt something out like that, it's you bein' really, completely honest.  And - God - I - I couldn't - I couldn't take that."

"I didn't mean that, I swear. I swear," she repeated, "I wasn't trying to - I just wanted us to not talk about those two things together, okay?"  She paused again, drawing an unsteady breath before adding, "And, in the interest of complete honesty, I haven't had any coffee yet, so I am possibly not entirely responsible for what comes outta my mouth.  Certainly, that part didn't - didn't pass through my brain," she giggled nervously.  "But still, God Jake, I am so sorry."

He exhaled slowly, through his teeth, still attempting to settle his racing mind and pulse.  Jake allowed a grim chuckle.  "Are you even safe to drive if you haven't had coffee?"

"Probably not," she conceded, sighing, "But somehow I made it here." 

He'd long since reached the slightly shady patch of asphalt created by the shadow thrown off by the dispatch office - just another of Ravenwood's squat, temporary buildings inside the Green Zone.  He had been pacing in that sliver of shade, but now he threw himself down on the bench, just to the right of the office's entrance, the bench that no one ever used.  He half collapsed on the end farthest from the door, slumping.  "So, what - what were you tryin' to say?"

"Just that I want to keep those discussions separate - independent from one another," Heather answered hesitantly.  "The discussion about when we have kids, and any discussion - good or bad - that we need to have about my job.  That's all."

"That's all, huh?"

"That's all I was tryin' to say when I went and accidentally introduced the 'D' word into the conversation, yes," she clarified.  "And it was thoughtless and stupid and awful of me.  I'm sorry for that.  And I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, though to his own ear, it sounded automatic and not completely sincere.  "Heather, I love you," he emphasized a beat later, forcing himself to sit up.  "I really do.  And you're not awful for accidentally saying that," he assured her.  "Kinda awful to hear, but ....  God, do I wish I'd let this go to voicemail," he confessed.

"Yeah, really can't blame you for that," she agreed, emitting the shakiest of laughs that was immediately swallowed up by a heavy sigh.  "So hey, give me your voicemail greeting."

"My voicemail greeting?"

"Yep.  Say 'Jake Green, leave a message'," she ordered.  "Please."

"Jake Green, leave a message," he sighed, "That-"

"Hi, Jake Green," Heather started, cutting him off.  "It's me.  I'm a little nervous this morning, and, well, I just wanted to hear your voice.  You re-recorded your greeting, and it's so much nicer than your old one, so good job-"

He chuckled.

"-on that.  Wish you'd made it a smidge longer, but oh well.  I'll just have to call twice.  Maybe three times.  I love you.  And, oh, you should go read your email, by the way.  I sent you a long one last night, and... at least read the first part, okay?  So, I'll talk to you later?  I miss you and I love you.  Bye, Jake."  She paused a moment, then told him, "So there.  Now you've heard the voicemail message that I left for you in some other strand of the multiverse where I did go to voicemail, and so didn't accidentally introduce a bad word that - honestly - I've never even thought about, to the conversation, okay?"

"Okay," Jake acknowledged.  "And thanks for that.  But really, I hope that there aren't too many strands of the multiverse where I'm stuck in Iraq.  You know, so the answered the phone/didn't answer the phone thing is irrelevant."

"Yeah," Heather agreed, "More strands where you were home last night to talk me off the ledge.  Heck, to stop me from ever climbing out on it in the first place.  Plus, if you were home, I probably woulda taken the time to make coffee this morning," she sighed.  "And that might've solved some problems, too.  Anyway, those are the really good universes."

"Well, yeah," he conceded. "But this one's not too bad, right?  We met in this universe.  Fell in love.  Got married.  That probably didn't happen in all of 'em."

"This one is pretty good, actually," she decided.  "When you think about it.  And those other ones - ones where we've never met? - those universes suck," she complained.  "They're the ones where - I bet - everything has gone wrong."

"Yeah, I think so," he said, blowing out a long breath, still trying to work through his body's stress response.  "I'm - I'm gonna come home at some point, Heather.  I promise."

"I know.  And I'll be here when you do, Jake.  Promise," she echoed.

"I'm countin' on it."

They were both quiet for a long moment, until finally, reluctantly, she broke the silence.  "She's here, car just pulled in."

"You better go," Jake advised.  "But call me, okay?  Soon as you can, after your meeting," he ordered.  "I wanna know what happens, okay?  Good, bad, whatever, I wanna know what's goin' on.  Connected.  Sane.  Remember?"

"Yes, of course," Heather acknowledged.  "I said we'd talk later.  Did you not listen to my voicemail?" she joked weakly.  "Might not be 'til lunch, but I'll call, I promise.  And I meant it, Jake," she added, "What I said in my voicemail, all of it.  But in particular, go read your email.  I meant everything I wrote, too."

"I will, promise.  I'm gonna read it twice at least, the whole thing, even if it's a novel," he pledged.  "You better go.  It's gonna be good news, I know it.  Love you."

"Love you.  Bye."

"Bye."

 

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

 

 

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From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 17:35 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Jake & Heather sittin' in a tree ...

Attachments:

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Hey Babe -

 

I read this email 3 times.  All of it.  Even the elementary school gossip was interesting.  I want to know what you figure out about the big fight.  I have a theory so I want to know how close or off base I am.  Even if 3rd grade girls aren't my area of expertise.  And why are so many people naming their kids Madison?

You convinced me to try the "Asian Station" in the dining facility again. (I was there at 16:30. Even more Early Bird Special than you and Stanley.)  It was not as bad as I remembered.  They had halfway decent Kung Pao and fortune cookies in stock.  Both developments are new.  My fortune was "You will conquer obstacles to achieve success".  That's good right?  A good sign maybe.  I still liked the one you got better - we should make sure that one stays true.  But Babe I'm pretty sure it's a major fortune cookie protocol violation to open your 2nd fortune cookie ahead of time when you're having Chinese leftovers the next day.  You're supposed to space the fortunes out to match the food.  Also a major fortune cookie protocol violation to not add "in bed" to your fortune. Let's work on making your fortune come true both ways.

Sorry for our misunderstanding this morning. (Not the right word.  Did we argue/fight?  I freaked out at you.  I'm sorry about that.)  I'm very sorry I swore at you.  I know that's one of your requirements that actually matters. I know they all matter but some requirements matter more than others right?  (That's an Orwell reference and I am making it on purpose to impress my brilliant wife with one of the few things that stuck from HS freshman English.) 

I never want to make you cry but if it was the good kind of crying and if you really were only crying because you're happy I love you then I guess it's ok this time. 

I love you and I can't really tell you how much either.  It just goes on forever.  So let's put the D word incident behind us. 

I know it's not your lunch yet but I sure wish you'd call and let me know what's going on.

Let's be completely antisocial.  You can go to school and 1 meeting of the It Ain't Easy Being Green club a week - I'll hang out with Stanley while you're getting your girl talk.  We can go to Sunday dinner if we absolutely have to.  I vote for the Recluse Greens.  You're too gorgeous to be called a hermit.

To send me a care package, you'd have to send it to company HQ in Boulder and I wouldn't get it for a month.  Not worth it.  I'll probably still be here in a month but I want to pretend I won't.  Just keep sending love and email and occasionally pictures and we'll call it good.

I always want to be your most important Jake.  This is why we're definitely not naming our kid Jacob III ok?  FYI - I'm going to teach Megan to call me Uncle Cowboy Jake.  Kerry will love that.

I know who Chuck Landeros is.  He was 2 years ahead of me in school. No idea which of 3 or 4 Melissas he ended up marrying.  More Melissas if I give him the 5.5 year range that worked so well for me.  And that's just if he married someone local.  I think he went to K State so who knows what the pool of Melissas was there. 

That means I have no idea who Melissa Landeros is.  I could have sat next to her in 3rd grade and I wouldn't know it.  And my 3rd grade teacher didn't allow nicknames so that year I didn't get to be Jake.

You should grade other moms on how they mom.  You're going to be the best mom.  None of them will ever hold a candle to you.

Now - call me.

 

I love love love love love you

 

Jake

 

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From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 17:41 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: Favor

Attachments: McBees_Receipt_05310254.pdf

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Mom -

 

I need a favor(s) for Heather's birthday. 

First, talk to April and arrange to take Heather out for her Birthday Dinner.  Otherwise she'll just stop and get takeout and eat alone at home.  Maybe share it with Baron. 

Second, on Monday, please go to McBee's and pick up her cake.  It's their 6 inch round 2 layer Chocolate Kahlua cake. (Today I learned that cakes come in sizes and you can't just order a cake.)  They are supposed to put "Happy Birthday Heather" in purple frosting on it.  You need to get it out to the ranch on Monday so it's there on Tuesday morning for her Birthday ok?  This can't wait until Tuesday it has to be done on Monday.

Thanks Mom.  You're a lifesaver.

 

Love Jake

 

---

 

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 17:56 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: Joseph Lind

Attachments:

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Ange

 

You can use stock photos.  The picture I showed Ruiz was just of Heather and me.  I'd send it to you but I don't want it ending up in a discovery dump later.

No one here has seen his picture.  He was in a few group shots Heather's sister in law sent us from our niece/goddaughter's half birthday (a real thing).  But there are no labels and I didn't show those to anyone.  I really tried to keep my in laws out of this op.  I should have kept Heather out of it.  So go with stock photos.

The bio and the financial statement are good.  Thanks for working on this.  I know I'm being paranoid but Gretchen keeps telling me to not end up dead so I'm trying to follow that order.  And I don't want to be dead.

Janine is Janine O'Brien but no way Ravenwood knows that.  So pick a last name and let me know.

 

Jake

 

---

 

 

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 18:12 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: In Person Time

Attachments:

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Mrs. Green -

 

You go right ahead and amend the pre-nup.  Then send me a copy at least of the updated page(s).

The only thing I'd ever sue over is if you infringed on my requirements - if Count Jake-ula ever returns there sure as hell better be no makeup involved and you are never allowed to tell me Tommy's 157 words. (I think I want to amend the pre-nup to add that you can't teach the 157 words to our kids either.  Just to be safe.  Maybe you can make that addition along with horse camp.) The soulless corporate attorney is confused as hell right now.

I was blowing off steam.  Thanks for the other reminders.  I needed them.

I'll tell you all about our vacation on your Birthday ok?  It's not part of your present but that is when I'm going to tell you.  Because you need to be PATIENT.

That's great news about Mike.  Just what I'd expect from the only brother that would stand for all that pretend school back in the day.  I still say you're the smartest of your parents' kids but he's a close second.

I need to go firm up our vacation plans and a few things for your birthday.  So now you have 2 things that you can learn to be patient about. 

Don't forget to call at lunch Babe

 

Love you

 

Agent Green

 

---

 

 

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 18:38 (UTC+3)

To: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Subject: Favor

Attachments: Dalton&Sons_Green_SS_Pendant.jpg

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April

 

Heather says she told you that she wants to do a weekly ride with you once school is out for the year.  I trust her completely but also wanted to make sure you were aware. 

I know she's feeling lonely and I can't do anything about that but make sure you know she's trying to make me feel better by going riding.  I want her to go riding so she has something to look forward to.  And because we live on a horse ranch.  Anyway she's calling your rides together April Green's Riding Academy.  You're so classy - Heather gives you a Riding Academy and gives me a Horse Camp. 

Sounds like Mom may want to join you for riding.

Congrats on totally smoking Eric and Dad at racing.  Wish I'd been there to see that.  Maybe not.  You would have made me race and would have humiliated me too.

Please tell me that you and Mom have plans for her birthday.  Please take her out to dinner if you weren't already doing that.  I will pick up your dinner (Eric's too) any time we are out together for the rest of our lives just please don't let Heather end up picking up takeout and eating alone for her Birthday Dinner ok?

I'm going to call her a couple times that day + at least 1 Skype and I'll figure something out so we can talk/Skype after she's home from dinner.  End the day right right?

I have another huge favor for you to do for me if you're willing. You always say I'm allergic to shopping and you're right.  It's also hard to shop from here.  But I did it.

Grant Dalton is a jewelry nerd - good thing for a jeweler right?  He was interested in Heather's engagement ring ever since we took it in to be resized back after we first got engaged.  That got him interested in finding star sapphires.  He's been emailing me pictures of his finds ever since but they're never as "quality" of a flaw as Heather's ring.  He finally came across 1 that he said was of equal quality.  I had him buy it and pull it out of a really crummy setting and then reset it as a pendant + chain for Heather.  I was going to save it for our anniversary since it matches her ring but now we'll definitely be together for our anniversary so I decided to give it to her for her birthday instead. 

On Tuesday alright if Grant brings it by the clinic for you to sign off on for me?  He's being a stickler about that and I can't really sign off from here.  He'll personally deliver it to Heather out at the ranch about 4:30. So don't plan dinner until 6.

He can come by any time that works for you and then just hang out in town. He does seem to be having fun - like I email him from this account a couple of times and now he's part of a covert op. 

April I will owe you forever.  Please?

Almost forgot.  How proud of you are Mike?  Going to Yale for med school means he's definitely a candidate for a Riding Academy not a Horse Camp.  Like I said - classy.  Just can't let Eric convince him to take up golf instead.

 

Love Jake

 

---

 

 

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 18:43 (UTC+3)

To: Mike Lisinski

Subject: Congratulations Man

Attachments:

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Mike -

 

Heather told me you're officially headed to Yale for med school.  I know you know this but she is a "super proud big sis".

You've worked really hard for this and you deserve it. 

 

Congratulations Mike

 

Jake

 

---

 

 

---

 From: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Sent: Thu Jun 01 11:24 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments:

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Hi Jake,

 

Wow, that's a serious email address.  Should I be using this one or your personal email when I want to bug you about something?

I had to think a minute about what the 2nd "J" stood for, Agent Green.

Heather and I have set up our riding date, and Mom is coming to the first one for sure.  It's actually a week from today.  They both said we had to start slow, so we're going to celebrate the last day of school with a short afternoon ride.  Heather says we can ride anywhere but Mary's Meadow.  She told me the full Mystery of the Marys story, and wow.  Who knew we had such a skeleton in the closet?  We may stick to Thursdays, but I have to see what my schedule can accommodate.  Everyone wants Friday afternoon Dr. appts so that's the only time I can't clear my schedule.  Maybe it's the time I should absolutely clear my schedule.  "Dr. Green doesn't work Friday afternoons."  I wish.

You're right about the racing, except I would have only smoked you.  I big time humiliated Eric and Dad.  They both kind of deserved it (while you're only out of practice because of work).  That's what they get for making me a Golf Widow most weekends.  Well, not Dad, but I got him on Mom's behalf, though he isn't nearly as bad as my husband.  Eric now has a standing monthly round of golf scheduled with Hugh Stevens and Gray Anderson!  Even though he knows Gray is going to run against Dad for mayor again in November.  You really need to come home so Dad thinks about going hunting or fishing again - anything but golf every weekend.  And really?  Would it kill Eric to give up golf once a month to spend a Saturday morning riding with me?

Mom and I already have Heather's birthday under control, so don't worry about that.  She tried to tell us that it wasn't important, so I'm glad you aren't buying that either.  We're going to do a family celebration on Sunday, including Stanley and Bonnie.  You could surprise her and call into that if you want, though that's probably 3 AM for you, right?  Maybe just stick to calling Heather on her birthday and don't worry about the rest of us.

Then, Mom and I are going to take her to Roma Italia (Heather's choice) on Tuesday.  I wasn't going to worry about making a reservation (since it's a Tuesday) but now I will since you'll want some idea when she'll be home so you can call.  I'll make the reservation for 6 and she should be home by 8 or 8:30, OK?  So again, all under control.

I'm also game to meet Grant Dalton as long as I can tell Eric what we're up to.  Our anniversary is 2 weeks away, so I'm going to shamelessly use you to remind your brother that jewelry and flowers and nice dinners are all things I appreciate too.  (I assume that a dozen (or 2?) red roses will be delivered to the Elementary sometime on Tuesday, but also that you were able to arrange that all on your own.)  I'll give Grant a call and set up a time for him to come by where he doesn't need to hang out in Jericho for the whole day, OK?  Actually, Tuesday is Field Day at the Elementary, so I'm volunteering like always at the first aid station all morning.  But I'll head back to the clinic after lunch so that means I can't meet him until about 2 pm at the earliest.

Also, (I don't) hate to break it to you, but what you did is technically not shopping.  You got concierge service from the family jeweler.  And the fact that I just typed that statement with straight face....  But seriously, that is a beautiful necklace, it really does match/complement her ring, and I know she'll love it.  So as long as this is what Grant brings by to show me, I will sign off on it for you.

So proud of Mikey!  I must admit, I did try to convince him to consider KU School of Medicine, but Yale was his dream school, otherwise he was just going to go to U Buffalo and keep living at home with Joe.  And, Joe probably wouldn't have liked losing a 2nd kid to Kansas.  Don't take that as me casting aspersions or worse that I think Joe is secretly resenting you.  You and I both know that he is perfectly happy that Heather married you.  And I agree with Dad, when you guys have kids, Joe will take that as a reason to retire and spend a fair amount of time in Jericho.  Might even move out here.  Just you wait - Heather's going to love getting to redecorate the downstairs suite for her dad.

Not sure we'll ever make a real horseman out of Mikey, but I will not let Eric turn him to the dark side (golf), I promise.

OK, so I need to get back to work. It's been a slow morning in the ER, and now I have jinxed myself.

 

Love

 

April

 

---

 

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 19:56 (UTC+3)

To: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments:

---

 

April

 

This is just the account that I had the picture on.  The other account might be monitored by the organization I am currently investigating.  You should email that one unless you need to actually call me Agent Green or mention the DEA. 

If they are monitoring it's better that I have some traffic on my personal account. Probably don't mention "concierge service from the family jeweler" on my personal account either just in case.  So, up to you but if you want to help a federal agent out, send most email there.  Wish I could get you a tax credit out of it but so far that's not a thing.

Don't think too hard about that second J but remember it's actually the first one.  I only use it on legal stuff.  Sometimes Heather makes a joke about "are we really married?" because it's how our marriage license was issued. I can't believe you signed off as an official witness to our wedding/marriage without reading everything you were signing.

I probably should have gotten it legally changed but it was easier to set up my near match second identity at work when technically I have another name.  And now I've told you too much.  So just keep that to yourself.  I wouldn't have to kill you but I might get an official reprimand.  (And if my boss is reading my email she can fire me.)

Thanks for taking care of everything for Heather's birthday.  You are the world's best friend/sister to her and to me.  On the other hand I am the world's crappiest husband.  But as soon as this assignment is over I'll try to claw my way back up to mediocre.

Would have helped if I'd thought to talk Joe into letting me fly him out to surprise her for her birthday.  Thanks to you and Mom for the family party on Sunday but too bad there won't be some Lisinski representation to distract from the fact that I'm not there.  I mean I hope she notices that I'm gone and misses me but her dad or Mike might make up for some of my being MIA.

Jewelry, roses, and coffee of the month club subscription.  Still doesn't feel like enough but it's what I've got so far.

Feel free to use me to get Eric to give you everything you deserve for your anniversary.  I mean you agreed to marry him.  He should be thanking you for that every damn day.

You know Dad and Eric are going to take on some equine breeding so you'll at least get them to join you at the ranch for a couple of weekends.  They might not be riding but they'll be there.

 

Love Jake

 

---

 

 

---

From: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Sent: Thu Jun 01 12:14 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments:

---

  

Jake,

 

I'll email Joe / Deb / Kerry and see if we can get a Lisinski - Green Sunday Dinner conference call set up, OK?  She's going to know that you're not there, but she'll enjoy the surprise.

By the way, have you met Heather?  Coffee of the Month club?  You probably should get her a Coffee of the Week club membership.  Coffee of the Day club?   

There's a new internet café in Jericho (I'm not kidding) so maybe you should arrange for an unlimited subscription for her there (I am kidding about that).  As her doctor I'm still working on her to reduce her caffeine intake.  Now, see?  I just violated doctor/patient confidentiality and HIPAA.  So, we've both said too much and nobody needs to die.  We can just keep each other's secrets, OK?

You're not a crappy husband.  None of the Greens are crappy husbands. Well, maybe that guy back at the beginning who renamed his new wife after the dead one.  That's a crappy and a creepy move.

And I know your name, it just surprised me for a minute there, Junior.

Also, Dad and Eric are getting into horse breeding this year?  First I've heard of it.  Little late in the season, though.

 

Love

 

April

 

---

 

 

---

From: HGreen (JISD)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 12:17 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: FW: Jericho Elementary School Vice Principal Appointment

Attachments: Memo_HGreen_vice_principal.pdf

---

 

Jake,

 

This one wasn't even a close call.  This one definitely has to go to the DEA account.  I don't even think we should talk about it on the phone unless you're in a "good place to talk".

So, you tell me - do I still call you right now?  I told Mrs. McVeigh (who says I should really call her Sandy now, but you know me, that'll take years) that I needed to talk to you about this and so she's walking my class from lunch to Art today.  That means I'm free until the start of the 2 pm recess.

I don't know how you always do this.  Sometimes I have to sit here a minute and remind myself you're not psychic.  I know you understand the world and people and organizations, but, wow, you REALLY understand the world and people and organizations.  Somehow, you can always read the situation.  Even from 7000 miles away.

As you can guess, even without opening the attachment, they want to offer me the vice principal position like you said they were going to do.  I always expected that it would be on top of teaching.  Again, small school, stagnant enrollment.  That's exactly how Mrs. McVeigh - Sandy! - pitched this "move" to me.  She always said it would mostly be ceremonial, but that I would be her official backup at all times.  I've been the acting principal all 6 times she was out this year, but that was unofficial.  Now it would be official.

You should read the offer letter, but the upshot is, the amenable solution we "agreed to" is not something I technically agreed to, it's just something I said in passing.  When Sandy (full disclosure: I typed Mrs. McVeigh and erased it) said that the issue was the budget, I told her I didn't need a raise to go along with the promotion.  I didn't realize she was going to pass that on to Superintendent Moore.  And I don't need a raise, because we don't actually need the money.  Except I know that doesn't work for your current cover story, and so we can't discuss that on the phone, which is why I haven't called you. 

I'm also a little annoyed that the superintendent and school board are all like "wow, so lucky that our vice principal candidate married Jake Green so now we don't have to worry about finding the money to actually pay her".

It shouldn't matter who I'm married to.  (It matters very much to me - but it shouldn't matter at all to them.)  But I do kind of want to accept it, and I really wish you were here.  Not just because I wouldn't have been an idiot this morning but because this would be so much easier to talk about in person.  Look, I'm whining about my job to you, just like you want me to.

What do I do right now?  Do I still call?  Or do we need to wait to talk?  Tell me what to do, Jake.  (It'll probably be a while before I flat out invite you to tell me what to do again, so take advantage of it now, Hon. :-) )  

 

[FORWARDED MESSAGE FOLLOWS]

---

 From: AAames (JISD) on behalf of CMoore (JISD)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 06:54 (UTC-5)

To: HGreen (JISD)

CC: SMcVeigh (JISD); JISD Board of Education

Subject: Jericho Elementary School Vice Principal Appointment

---

 

Dear Mrs. Green:

 

We are pleased to offer you the position of Vice Principal at Jericho Elementary School effective August 1.

The position of Vice Principal is a twenty percent (20%) time appointment and will be concurrent with your current appointment as Certified Classroom Teacher/Elementary which will be reduced to an eighty percent (80%) time appointment.

Please review the enclosed changes to the terms of your contract and return a signed copy at your earliest convenience.

Congratulations!  On behalf of the board and myself, I am glad that we were able to find an amenable solution. We all look forward to working with you for years to come.

 

Charles Moore

Superintendent

Jericho Independent School District

701 Fifth Street, Jericho KS

 

---

 

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 20:20 (UTC+3)

To: HGreen (JISD)

Subject: RE: Jericho Elementary School Vice Principal Appointment

Attachments:

---

 

Heather

 

Give me 5 minutes and then call me.  Tell me about the promotion and ignore the fact that they're screwing you on compensation.  Just don't mention money.  We can do that part by email but I want to tell you some stuff so call me. 

Love you

 

Jake

 

---

 

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 20:21 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: My Status

Attachments:

---

 

Ange                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

I think we both know the real/other reason Gretchen has assigned you to/over me.  I'm glad that you're handling the triplets but I know you're also handling me. 

I assume you're under orders to monitor my mental fitness and let Gretchen know if she needs to pull me. 

Hope you know that's the last thing she wants to do.  She has a lot invested in this and so do I.  But she doesn't want this to go sideways either.  That would end all our careers and I could end up dead.  I'm actively trying to prevent both those things don't worry.

Gretchen put you in because she either doesn't want to make the decision or she knows you will make the hard call even when she won't.  I trust you to make that call even if she won't - if she thinks I might still pull this out but she isn't sure.  If you're ever not sure you should call it.  It's a really shitty thing for her to do to you.  And to me.  Sorry about that.

I'm ok for now.  I've told Gretchen that and now I'm telling you.  I'm tired and under stress.  The schedule here is tough.  Ravenwood burns through people fast let me tell you.  That's just the driving.  I'm burning out (and I know it) but I'm not burned out.  I haven't lost touch with reality.  My attitude is not great.  I miss my wife.

What else do you need to hear? 

I need to go take a call from Heather.  Something came up for her at work today and it's important.  I'm hitting send on this even though I know I probably shouldn't.  Don't make the call to pull me until we can finish this ok? 

 

Jake

---

 

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

 

Thursday June 1, 8:20 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Thursday June 1, 12:20 pm (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

 

Jake tapped out the last sentence of his email to Ange, signed his name, and clicked the send button.  Already, he regretted it.  But he didn't have time for that, he reminded himself, so he'd deal with it later.  He probably needed to risk a phone call with Ange, he decided, disconnecting from the DEA VPN and then shutting down his laptop.  It was Heather's old laptop - a college graduation gift from her brothers - and though she hadn't used it since the first semester of her Master's program, she'd held onto for its sentimental value.  He'd needed something he could turn over to the DEA tech team to use as Jake Green's laptop for this operation, and she hadn't been thrilled when he asked if he could have it.  But she'd agreed once he had explained that he wanted to make sure that what he took with him would never be - had never been - connected with a government agency and her trusty old laptop fit the bill.  The tech team had souped it up and had installed a whole second system within the laptop that allowed him to access the DEA VPN as he needed to.  But on the outside, it still looked like a six-year old laptop: big, clunky case, too small of a screen, weighed a ton, and all the wear and tear one would expect after more than a half decade's use.  Much like his satellite phone, he never left the laptop behind when he left his sleeping quarters.  Jake stuffed it into his backpack and rolled off his bunk.

He'd almost made it out of the building when he ran into Freddie, coming in from the rec center next door.  "Man, you missed a good game," his friend informed him.  "Caught the rebroadcast of the Rockies at the Padres from yesterday.  My team clobbered your team."

Jake shook his head.  "Rockies aren't my team," he reminded.  "My team's the Royals.  American League all the way.  Rockies, I just catch if I'm in Denver."

Freddie snorted.  "Sure," he returned skeptically.  "Where'r you goin'?"

"Take a phone call," he shrugged, nodding at Ellison as he stepped around the two of them, also heading toward the exit.  As a crew chief, Ellison had a small room all to himself at the end of the same hallway as Jake and Freddie.  "Heather got some news from her boss.  Gonna go find out what it is.  Hope it's good.  We could use some good news."

"Tell her you're ready to have a kid," Freddie advised.  "Even if it's bad news about her job, she'll be happy."

"Already tried that earlier," Jake grumbled, "She didn't think I was taking her seriously.  Besides," he continued, raising his voice slightly for Ellison's benefit; the crew chief had paused at the exit, obviously eavesdropping.  "We still can't afford it." 

"Hope it's good news, man," Freddie sighed, clapping Jake on the shoulder.  "I'm gonna call Ana, so I'll tell her to light a candle for Heather."

"Thanks," Jake said, turning to follow Ellison out the door.

The crew boss was already halfway across the courtyard between the buildings, heading apparently for the small building that housed the Baghdad corporate offices for both Ravenwood and Jennings & Rall.  Jake decided to be glad for that - he wouldn't have to make his pitch again under the guise of small talk.  He could just talk to his wife. 

It wasn't quite dark yet, but dusk had descended, and Jake knew there was a chance he could sit at one of the picnic tables scattered irregularly across the courtyard without burning himself on the aluminum frame.  He picked a spot that was closer (but not too close) to the Security Services' dormitory than his own, and took a seat, dropping his backpack on the table.  His phone rang, and he flipped it open on the second ring while also fishing a bottle of water out of his pack.  "Hey, babe," he greeted.  "So?"

"Hi Jake."

"So?" he repeated, "What is it?  Good news or bad?  Heather, c'mon, the suspense is killing me."

She made a chuffing noise, and he knew she was suppressing a giggle at the ridiculousness of this call when he was already fully aware of her news.  But still, she gamely played along, demanding, "How did you know that they were gonna offer me the vice principal position?  Because they did.  And now I'm back to thinking you're psychic again."

"Again?  When did you think I was psychic before?" Jake inquired, truly curious.

"When you figured out that April and I were planning a surprise thirtieth birthday party for you and Eric," Heather informed him.

"That wasn't me being psychic," he argued, uncapping his water.  "That was because you read Stanley in, and he can't keep a secret.  Well, he can," Jake corrected a moment later, after swallowing, "But you have to get him to say the magic words."

"So, Stanley told you?" she questioned, clearly annoyed.  "And I did say the magic words.  I said 'please don't tell Jake, it's a surprise'."

"'Please' is a little kid/mom/teacher magic word, sure," he chuckled, taking another sip of water.  "But that's not the magic words that make Stanley keep a secret.  And he has to say 'em, not you."

She emitted a strangled sound.  "So, what are the Stanley magic words?"

"Sorry, can't tell you that-"

"Jake!" 

"I'd love to be able to tell you, babe.  Really.  If I was gonna tell anyone, it'd be you," he insisted, "But I just can't."

"So, there's a pact involved," Heather surmised.

"Yeah, there is," Jake confirmed.  "But - really - if I were gonna tell anyone, it would be you."

"Fine!" she groaned, frustrated.  "Apparently, you're not psychic, but sometimes you are impossible, mister."

"But you love me anyway," he sighed, taking another drink.  He knew he was fishing for some reassurance, but he couldn't help himself.  He was still the slightest bit rattled by their last conversation.

Heather seemed to recognize this as she declared brightly, all traces of annoyance suddenly absent from her tone, "That I do.  I love, love, love you.  And, one day, I'm gonna actually manage to surprise you, too," she vowed.

"You surprise me all the time, Heather," he told her.  "Good surprises.  I'm still a little surprised you went out with me in the first place," he declared.  "So, trust me, you don't need to throw me a surprise party.  Ever again.  And hey, I acted surprised."

"Fake surprised," she contradicted with a snort.  "Fake happy.  Though I was probably the only one who really noticed that.  Me and your mom."

"My dad too.  He pulled me aside, told me not to be a jerk - to you and April. 'Cause he always thinks he knows when I'm about to disappoint him.  And I wasn't gonna be a jerk, just so you know."

"I know, hon.  You were a really good sport that night, Jake.  So, I promise that next time, I'll tell April she's on her own," Heather assured.  "And no way you actually thought I was gonna turn you down when you asked me out."

"Hey, I wasn't takin' anything for granted," he countered.  "But then thirty seconds after I walked into your house, you plant one on me, so then I figured long as I could keep from screwing up too badly, maybe I stood a chance with you."

"It was at least two minutes before I kissed you," she protested, giggling, "Because apparently I'm brazen, but I'm not that brazen."

"Ninety seconds at most, babe.  And I vote for more brazen, " Jake chuckled.  "Long as you're aimin' it at me."

"You're the only one I'm ever gonna be aiming at, hon."

Jake cleared his throat.  "So, we're on the clock, right?  Your kids are gonna be back from lunch soon, so I need the details, Vice Principal Green," he emphasized.  "How's this gonna work?"

"I haven't accepted yet," she informed him.  "And actually, I have time.  I told Mrs. McVeigh-"

"You really still hafta call her Mrs. McVeigh?" he interrupted.  "When you're gonna be second in command?"

"No.  She's insisting that I call her Sandy," Heather replied, just as he knew she would.  "But I - you know me."

"Yeah, that's gonna take you years," Jake agreed, quoting her email back to her.  "Guess I'll hafta start calling her Sandy - to try and help you with the transition, babe."

"You're gonna start calling Mrs. McVeigh 'Sandy' to her face?" Heather teased.  "You're brave, Jake Green, 'cause we both know - if she doesn't like it - she will call your mother."

"Maybe not to her face," Jake laughed, "I don't need that kinda trouble."

"They want me to sign a contract that says I'll spend twenty percent of my time doing vice principal things, and eighty percent of my time teaching," she explained, her tone turning serious.  "And Mrs. McVeigh-"

"-Sandy-"

"Right, Sandy," Heather corrected, "She wants me - at least next year - to concentrate on ensuring compliance with curriculum standards for the whole school.  So, she'll do my evaluation, but I'll do the evaluations for all the other teachers."

"So - basically - you get to grade all the other teachers," Jake summarized.  "Nice!  And maybe, knowin' you're comin' for her, Mrs. Walker will finally realize it's time to retire."

"I still have to be professional, Jake.  And Mrs. Walker's a good teacher.  I'm not gonna be coming for her."

"What's her first name?"

"Edna," Heather admitted reluctantly, admonishing, "Don't laugh."

"I'm not - I won't," he swore.  "I'm still a little scared of her, to be honest."

"How about we just both keep callin' her Mrs. Walker," she suggested.

"Deal," Jake agreed.  "I'm so proud of you, Heather," he announced with his next breath.  "Like I have anything to be proud of - I didn't have anything to do with this.  But still.  I'm really proud of you.  You worked hard for this and you deserve it."  It occurred to him, as the words left his mouth, that he'd said the exact same thing to her brother in the congratulatory email he'd sent earlier that evening.  But it was true - Heather and Michael had both worked hard, and they deserved all the recognition.   "You're - you're awesome, babe."

"Well, thank you," she returned, almost shyly.  "But, Jake, you have more to do with this than you think.  Or would ever admit to."

"Me?" he scoffed, "No way, babe.  You did this.  You did all the work," he declared, tipping his water bottle back, and finishing it off.

"You really think I'd still be here - living here - if I hadn't met you?" Heather asked, her tone turning skeptical.  "Or that I'd have my Master's without you encouraging me - cheering me on?"

"I don't like to think about those other universes, remember?  And, babe, I'm always gonna cheer you on."

"I know," she acknowledged, and Jake could hear the smile - the one he'd do pretty much anything for - in her voice.  "That was the third thing I ever knew about you.  Because five minutes - not even, really.  Like two minutes after we met, you were telling me to not let Karen Harper get to me - to not let her drive me outta town.  The very first pep talk you ever gave me.  Before you even knew my name."

"I'm pretty sure I knew you were 'Heather' by then," he contradicted.  "And, God, I wish I could see her face when she finds out that you're gonna be the vice principal.  Not that I'm vindictive or anything."

"That's not vindictive.  Or - if it is - I'm gonna be vindictive right along with you," she decided, laughing softly.  "Because I kinda want to see her face when she finds out too."

"So, if that was the third thing you knew about me - that you can count on me for pep talks, which you can - what were the first two?"  He was pretty sure he knew her answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway.

"You know what I'm gonna say," Heather accused, unknowingly reading his mind.   "First," she began, her tone full of affection, "I knew that you were - are - a good person, the kind of person who stops to help a stranger."

"Well-"

"And don't you dare say you're not a good person, because I would not have married someone who wasn't a good person, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, hoping he sounded properly chastised.  "I do try to be a good person for you - to you.  And I hope I succeed more than I fail-"

"You do.  Promise," Heather interjected.  "Because I know I'm married to a good person even when you don't."

Okay," he repeated.  "And I know that I'm married to a good person.  An amazing person.  But ... you still hafta tell me what the second thing you knew about me was," Jake prompted, feeling a smirk bloom on his lips.  He was pushing his luck and he knew it.  "I insist."

"You insist, huh?" she huffed, exaggerating her annoyance for a moment before allowing a giggle.  "Well then, the second thing I knew about you - and maybe it was actually the first, now that I think about it," she continued, taking advantage of the opportunity to torture him just a little bit.  "But that thing - the thing that I knew about you right away - from the moment I laid eyes on you - that thing was - and is - that you're super hot," she declared.  "I mean, I ogled you, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he returned, grinning to himself.  "But it's not like I wasn't checking you out too.  I was just less blatant about it." 

She made a noncommittal noise that morphed into a sigh.  "If I take this job - promotion - whatever it is - it's gonna be more work.  Probably a lot more work, Jake," she cautioned.  "A lot more hours."

"Yep," he acknowledged.  " Because you're you.  Babe, I know there's no way you could just be an eighty percent teacher.  Doesn't matter what they put on paper.  You're still gonna give your kids a hundred and ten percent."

"Yeah," she agreed, sounding almost annoyed by the idea.

"Plus, pile on another forty or fifty percent for all the other kids at school now that you're the vice principal.  Not that you weren't already doing that - looking out for all the other kids."

"Well, I'm not the vice principal yet," she reminded.  "But yeah.  That's the kinda teacher I am, the kinda administrator I hope to be."

"You can't change who you are, Heather, and I don't want you to."

"Thanks.  I want - I just want to make sure you're okay with this.  Be honest."

"I'm always honest with you, babe," he returned.  "Little worried that you don't remember that - or maybe don't believe it," Jake continued, exhaling a long breath.  "I mean, first with that other conversation that we're not gonna mix with this conversation, and now you're worried that I'm not gonna want you to do this," he complained.   "Which is not true.  I'm proud of you, remember?" 

"I remember.  And, I believe you."

"You better," Jake grumbled softly.  "This is the next step in the plan, right?  This is what you're meant to do with your life.  I mean, besides hang out with me."

"Hanging out with you is the most important part of my life, thank you very much.  Even when it's just by phone."

"Exactly what I'm saying.  And the phone's not forever, remember that, too," he told her.  "Babe, you are an amazing teacher, and you're gonna be a great vice principal.  And that makes me the husband who's gonna cheer you on.  Plus, keep a drawer full of takeout menus handy so we don't starve, and be available to check math and spelling on an emergency basis only." 

"So, peanut butter Rice Krispie treats is an emergency, huh?"

"Damn straight.  Grilled cheese for dinner, too."

"Interesting definition of 'emergency', hon," she teased.  "But we'll go with it.  And, you're also the husband who knows when to be distracting," Heather reminded.  "Right?  That is a very important duty."

"Hey, I'm always gonna be distracting when you need distracting," Jake declared.  "There's a requirement for that, and I fulfill all my contractual obligations, Mrs. Green."

"You better," she murmured.  Heather was quiet for a long moment before sighing deeply and confessing, "I really do want to accept."  

"So do it," he advised.  "We've talked about it, we agree.  You want to.  I want you to.  You're gonna do great.  Feels like a decision to me."

"I still need to read through the contract changes.  Make sure I'm not selling them my soul or-"  She hesitated for a second, but then added, "Or - you know - our firstborn or something."

"Well, yeah, don't agree to that," Jake snorted.  "You're definitely not allowed to hand your soul or our future kid over to the JISD.  I mean, yeah, for educational purposes.  Our kids should go to school.  But other than that...." 

"They really should," Heather confirmed, laughing softly.  "Otherwise, some parents might question the commitment of the vice principal."

"Nah, you'll be principal by then," he argued.  "Sandy's only gonna stick around another couple of years.  Probably just long enough for us to have a couple of kids-"

"Jake," she grumbled.  "I mean, I know I said 'firstborn', so that's on me, but...."

"I'm not combining the conversations, just making a prediction, okay?  That conversation is for another day.  And we're gonna have it - just not right now."

"Okay."

"You should talk to Eric," he suggested.  "This is what he's good for.  He can review the changes for you and let us know if there's something hinky in there, okay?"

"I can do that," Heather agreed, "That's a good idea."

"Kinda sorry I'm gonna miss that part.  You know, the exact moment he learns I'm married to the vice principal." 

"Right," she giggled softly.  "Sign of the apocalypse.  Though, I wouldn't officially start being the vice principal until August first."

Over their connection, Jake heard a school bell buzz, signaling the end of the lunch period.  "You're gonna be late to get your class."

"I told Mrs. - I mean-"

"Sandy," they said in unison.

Heather laughed, repeating, "Sandy, yes, thank you.  I told her that I needed to talk to you, so she's walking my kids to Art for me," she explained, reiterating what she'd written in her email.

For the millionth time, Jake silently thanked her for playing along.  He knew why she went along with it, but still every time he fed her a prompt for something she knew that he already knew, he felt like a jerk.  But Heather cheerfully did what had to be done because (he knew) she wanted to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to her.  And, this was the safest way to do that.  "But isn't this, like, the all caps, 'LAST ART CLASS OF THE YEAR'?  And, don't you usually go to Art class?"

"Yeah, usually," she conceded.  "But that's just so I can work on improving my stick figures," she joked.  "Besides, skipping Art class - like every other teacher does - is probably how I'm gonna manage to be a twenty percent vice principal.  Realistically speaking."

"That's irony for you," he grumbled. "You're such a great teacher that everyone realizes you should be leading the other teachers - showing them how to be great teachers - only now you don't get to do the things that make you a great teacher."

"Well, hopefully I can still be a pretty good teacher - with the occasional moment of greatness - and a pretty good vice principal, too."

"If anyone can, you can, babe."

"Thanks," she murmured.   "So, hey, where are you right now?" she asked, a few seconds later, her tone curious.  "And don't just say Iraq."

"Uh... if I can't say Iraq, I don't quite know what to tell you, Heather," he returned dryly.

"I just mean, be more specific," she explained.  "Are you in your room?"

"What I have is a bunk more than a room," he reminded, "And I've never talked to you from there - not allowed.  And, I didn't try to get one of the booths in the rec center, 'cause those are usually reserved out ahead of time.  But I do have my reservations for next Tuesday," Jake informed her, "So don't worry, you're gonna get all the bonus calls."

"Good!  At least one of which is Skype."

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Got the whole day all planned out, babe."

"So, what times should I expect your calls?" she asked.  "And, just so you know, it's Field Day that day, which is usually - unofficially - an early dismissal, depending on how long the softball tournament runs."

"My favorite day of the school year," Jake declared, teasing, "The one day each year Mrs. Green throws caution to the wind and wears shorts to school."

"True!" Heather laughed, "Once a year only!"

"You know, if I quit tonight, I can be home by Tuesday - maybe even in time for Sunday dinner," he offered suddenly.  "Then I'd be there for your birthday and Mrs. Green wears shorts to school day."

"Jake," she admonished with a sigh.  "You know that the pep talks and the cheering on, that's a two-way street, right?  And I know you're not doing what you want to be doing with your life.  But you're still doing it so you can do what you want to do, right?" she said, hitting the most pertinent points of his cover story.  "So, I will survive one birthday without you at home, okay?  So, you need to do what you need to do for the ranch.  It's where we want our kids to grow up after all.  Okay?"

"Okay.  Good pep talk, babe."

"And - tell you what - I'll go by the first aid station and get April to take my picture so you can still celebrate 'Mrs. Green wears shorts to school' day, just a little bit late."

"Okay, thanks," he agreed, blowing out a frustrated breath.  "So, for your birthday calls... I'll email you on Monday night to let you know when to expect the first one," he explained.  "And then, at the end of each call, I'll tell you when you're getting the next one."

"Jake!"

"Patience, grasshopper."

"Fine," she groaned.  "But now you really hafta tell me where you are right now.  Since you're not in your bunk, or in a booth in the rec center, where are you?"

"Outside my building.  There's this - I dunno - patio, courtyard, big concrete pad thing.  It's between a bunch of buildings owned by the company.  There are picnic tables.  And I'm probably the first person to ever sit out here," he admitted.  "Too hot."

"How hot is it?" Heather demanded, concern evident in her tone.

"More than ninety but less than a hundred?  That's a guess," he conceded.  "For some reason, there are no time and temperature signs in this country."

"Yeah, I wonder why," she sighed.  "You should go inside.  I don't want you to get sick from the heat."

"It's not that bad now.  It feels like it did when we left for our honeymoon.  Sun had gone down, so it didn't feel like we were being baked alive anymore," he recalled, chuckling, "But I still couldn't figure out why the hell we were taking the Roadrunner and not your car with air conditioning.  So, it's hot, but not 'it's gonna kill ya' hot."

"Well, my dad had my car, so that probably had something to do with it," Heather reminded. "Plus, there was all that effort our brothers put into decorating the Roadrunner."

"Vandalizing it, you mean," he complained.

"And then we got honked at all the way to Wichita," she laughed.

"Anyway, right now, it's that kinda hot.  It was way worse earlier.  This afternoon.  When I freaked out at you.  Maybe that was the problem - my brain swelled up in the heat."

"Not funny, Jake."

"Little bit funny," he contradicted.  "And I'm sorry about that.  For freaking out.  It's just a word.  No big deal.  And now I'm gonna tell you to go read your email."

"I will, soon as I get home," she promised.  "Though, I guess I need to stop by and see Eric before I go home."

"Yeah, go talk to him," Jake yawned.  "And I completely forgot that you think its unprofessional to read your personal email at work.  You'll see what I mean." 

"I don't know that it's unprofessional.  You're grumpy on your voicemail because of telemarketers, well, I get a lot of spam, so I just deal with it at home, and not at work."

"Makes sense.  Babe, I think I better go," he decided, yawning a second time.  I don't wanna, but I should."

"Well, yeah," Heather agreed.  "Because it's ninety-five degrees out and almost past your bedtime."

"Thanks for the reminder," Jake groaned.  "And I have a few more things to take care of tonight.  Because someone has a birthday coming up."

"Better get to it then, hon," she ordered, affecting a stern tone. "And I have a bedtime, too.  It's not the worst thing to have as an adult."

"You say so," he grumbled.  "I love you.  Congratulations.  Read your email.  Let me know what Eric says."

"Thank you.  I will do both those things.  And I love you too.  Don't stay up too late, okay?  Bye Jake.  Love you."

"Bye Heather.  Love you."

 

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

 

 

---

From: Gail Green

Sent: Thu Jun 01 12:56 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments:

---

 

Dear Jake,

 

April has everything for Heather's actual birthday on Tuesday arranged.  We are going to do a "girls' night out" which will be fun.  Heather is missing you, so I think she very much didn't want your father or brother to come to dinner on her actual birthday. 

We're also celebrating her birthday at dinner on Sunday night.  I've invited Stanley and Bonnie, so I think we will have a nice group, though you will be missed, by the birthday girl especially.

I hope you are kidding when you claim to not have known that cakes come in sizes.  You're a very smart person, Jake, so logically you should know cakes come in sizes.

I was going to pick up the 8-inch Chocolate Kahlua cake on Sunday after church.  That should serve 10 to 12, so Heather can take whatever is leftover home with her.  (As long as we don't let Stanley go wild she'll have nearly half a cake that way.)  Would it be all right with you if I had them change your order and paid the difference?  Or I could go with the 10-inch and it wouldn't matter how much Stanley wanted.

I hope you are taking care of yourself, Jake.  Make sure to get enough sleep, and for goodness' sake, eat a vegetable every once in a while. That would make your mother very happy.

 

Love Mom

 

---

 

 

---

 From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 12:07 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

CC: Agent Stephen Waller (FBI)

Subject: Financial Woes

Attachments: JG_Shiny_Object_Scenario_1.xls; JG_Shiny_Object_Scenario_2.xls; JG_Shiny_Object_3.xls

---

 

Jake,

 

So, I gave the triplets a little challenge.  They each had to come up with a scenario for making Jake Green's financial life a little more miserable.  They had the following facts to start from:

1.  Jake Green's family ranch is in dire financial difficulty.  Will take a net operating loss this year.  Didn't do any breeding this year, so next year's looking bleak, too. 

Still, Jake's main financial goal is to preserve the ranch.

 

2.  Grandfather is in failing health, can no longer participate in ranch management.  His SS income has been a bit of a cushion for everyday expenses. (Death is imminent.)

 

3.  Wife is a teacher, so definitely undercompensated.  Gretchen wants us to max out the credit card debt, but I dared them to avoid that - or at least not have it result from a shopping addiction (Heather is my friend after all).

 

I'm not going to tell you which of the 3 attached scenarios is my favorite.  But the winner does get a prize. 

We can of course take the best bits from all 3, but I do need to declare a winner, so make sure you give me your vote.

 

 

Steve,

This is the little side project I told you about.  Something fun to work on while you're stuck in DC.  You get a vote too. 

 

If we each pick a different winner, I'll give them all to Gretchen to pick the winner.  Or Mellie, if Gretchen doesn't want to play.

 

Ange 

 

---

 

 

---

From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 12:07 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments:

---

 

Jake,

 

Your understanding of the situation and my understanding of the situation comport.  Thank you, also, for confirming what I suspected but didn't actually/officially know.

I'm not pulling you now, but I will pull you if I think I need to.  I promise you that.  And I can and will raise holy hell if I need to.  I owe Gretchen a lot, but I also won't let you end up dead.

Can we do a call sometime soon?  Preferably a secure one, but I can be Janine Walker if I have to be. 

 

Ange 

 

---

 

 

 

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 21:12 (UTC+3)

To: HGreen (JISD)

CC: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Jericho Elementary School Vice Principal Appointment

Attachments:

---

 

Heather -

 

Take the contract changes to Eric and see what he says. 

But you can also call Gunnison & Gunnison and get them to give you an email address to forward the email to.  They get a big yearly retainer for the trust plus they will bill us for any time they spend reviewing it.  The retainer will make you a priority.  Might as well take advantage of it.  All you have to say is your name and they should be falling all over themselves to help.  If they're not just say "EJ Green".  Those are magic words I'm authorized to share. Say "EJ Green's granddaughter" and they'll probably put you right through to Charles Gunnison himself.

They are taking advantage of you by not paying you for this but it's your next logical career move so I still say go for it.  As long as they leave your soul and our kids out of it.  I'm extremely protective of both - even though our kids don't exist yet.  (But they will soon ok?)

I'm so proud of you Babe. Can't wait til I can walk around town telling everyone about my amazing wife Vice Principal Green.

 

Love you

 

Jake

 

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 21:29 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments:

---

 

Ange

 

Thanks for the Shiny Object scenarios.  I will look them over tomorrow.  I'm already up past my bedtime.  I figure I can say that to someone with a 2 year old and you won't make too much fun of me.  Heather already pointed out to me this week that I have the bedtime of an 8 year old.

You can't just send me one of those mental health inventory questionnaires and call it good?  You really need to talk?  I'll figure something out.  Heather's birthday is Tuesday, so I've promised her multiple calls on the day.  I'm thinking of going to my secure location about 0100 Wed which is 1700 Tues for her.  One of her presents is being delivered just before that and then she has dinner with my mom and sister in law at 1800.  You and I can talk once she leaves for dinner.  I'll already be there anyway.  Soon enough?

Heather wants to have a kid.  She also wants to talk about having a kid.  Which is fine.  She likes to discuss things so that's what we do.  I just can't discuss that while I'm here.  Got to keep my head in the game right?  Anyway that's the answer you were fishing for.

Also they offered her the vice principal position at her school.  They want her to do 2 jobs and not pay her a dollar more.  They're totally screwing her over but she really wants it and I'm just proud and still a little amazed she married me.

I offered to quit tonight and come home in time for her birthday and she told me no.  Because she's just that good of a person.  I want to finish this thing and go home ok?  That's the goal.

 

Jake

 

---

 

 

---

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 21:37 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments:

---

 

Mom -

 

I have a whole plan for Heather's birthday.  That includes the cake being delivered to the ranch on Monday.  That's all I'm asking for.  I already feel like an asshole for missing her birthday.  Thank you for everything you and April are doing to salvage it for her.

But can we just stick to the plan I have and make sure there's a whole, smallest cake they make, at the ranch for her on Monday?

Can't you get a different cake for Sunday?  Either the Kahlua cake or something else?  She also likes the strawberry lemonade cake they make at McBee's and you and dad like anything lemon.  Get that.  Please.

Sorry I'm being a jerk.  I have to be up in less than 6 hours so please just do me the favor and do something separate for Sunday.  As soon as Mrs. McBee said cakes come in sizes it made sense.  And I do eat vegetables as long as they don't look like they violate the Geneva Convention.  I had a vegetable today.

 

Love Jake

 

---

 

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

 

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 3.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address - I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends.

 

The character of Freddie Ruiz appeared in the episode The Day Before, and has previously appeared in Different Circumstances Part 8A.

The character of Gretchen Tolliver is original to the Different Circumstances universe.  She is Jake's supervisor at the DEA.  She has been mentioned/appears in Different Circumstances Part 4C, Part 11B, 11E, and 14G.  Different Circumstances Part 14G also introduced the original character of Ange Waller, a Jake's co-worker, who is also friends/friendly with Heather.  Different Circumstances Part 14G has been slightly updated to reflect some necessary changes that make it "agree" better with this Interlude.

The 3 fortunes used in this part for Heather and for Jake are the actual first 3 fortunes that came up when I used the online fortune cookie generator at: http://hkessner.com/wats1020-dom-basics/  I even wrote about them in the order they came up. I committed to using whichever fortunes came up for them as a writing prompt in the middle of this story and I felt extremely lucky, especially with the very first fortune.

Jake is referencing George Orwell's famous phrase from the allegorical novel Animal Farm, "All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others," when he writes: "I know they all matter but some requirements matter more than others."  Heather's "requirements" for/of Jake are a long-running joke between them, first talked about in Different Circumstances, Part 6D.  (Also addressed/alluded to in DC Parts 8B, 10A, 14E, and 15D - so far.)

The selection of Heather's engagement ring is a scene within Different Circumstances Part 13B.  This part also includes the proposal scene if you have a desire to brush up on that.

The San Diego Padres played the Colorado Rockies on May 31, 2006 in San Diego.  The Padres rallied in the sixth inning to score the 3 runs they needed to defeat the Rockies, who had scored both their runs in the fourth.  Perhaps not as riveting of a game as Freddie claimed, but the game did take place.  Both the Padres and the Rockies are in the National League, whereas Jake's Kansas City Royals are in the American League.  Jake (and I) are American League all the way.

Lastly, if you want to to refresh yourself about how Heather and Jake met (since it was discussed) see Different Circumstances Part 1.

 

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

 

 

 

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 3

by Marzee Doats 

 

Author's Note: 

I had hoped to post this a week or two ago, but my work life has gotten quite overwhelming and I haven't had as much time as I wanted to write.  Writing is my stress relief, so that's not good.  

Anyway, this is the continuation of my Different Circumstances of Jericho during the few months before the beginning of the story proper.

Many thanks to my 2 beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement.  Thank you to Skyrose for the challenge of this part – it's all emails!  So sit back and enjoy the correspondence of the Greens and others over a few days.

 

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

---

From: HGreen (JISD) 

Sent: Thu Jun 01 13:42 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Jericho Elementary School Vice Principal Appointment

Attachments: 

---

Jake,

I called Gunnison & Gunnison and gave my name to the receptionist.  She immediately said "EJ Green Family Trust" and told me what a sweetheart Gramps was, and how lucky I was to have had him as a grandfather.  I told her I 100% agree.

She transferred me to Charles Gunnison's assistant, Barbara, who turned out to be the notary from when we signed all the paperwork for the house and property.  She also adored Gramps apparently, so I'm starting to think that your concerns about him chasing after me were wildly overblown. He really did flirt with every woman he talked to!  (I actually already knew that, and you did too.  He was always flirting with your mom and April after all.  And Mags.  Mrs. Crenshaw.  Sandy.  Basically, everyone you also flirt with except you don't flirt with your mom.  You and Gramps – 2 Green peas in a pod.)

Anyway, Barbara gave me her email address, told me to send the contract over, and said she would put it in front of Charlie or Benji before the end of the day.  I had a hard time not laughing at that.  I've met both of these men and I just can't imagine either Charles or Ben Gunnison answering to Charlie or Benji!  Ben was so serious that time we had to go "meet with your lawyer" before we got married.  I'm pretty sure you 2 are the same age, but still it was hard to believe him when he said "call me Ben" after I called him "Mr. Gunnison" like 5 times in a row.  You know, he came to our wedding and I automatically called him "Mr. Gunnison" in the receiving line.  I have a very distinct memory of this. And, now it turns out that he's also Benji, at least to Barbara.

I read over the updates myself and there was no mention of souls or offspring, so I think we're good, though maybe there's something more subtle in there that you need to be a lawyer to catch.  And, I'm still going to stop by and show it to Eric later today.  

I'm going to go now and drop in for the last 5 – 10 minutes of THE LAST ART CLASS OF THE YEAR.  But I'm sure you will get another email from me later tonight after I read the email you've already sent me hours ago.

 

Love you,

Heather

---

---

From: Gail Green 

Sent: Thu Jun 01 14:33 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

---

Honey,

I was only making a suggestion.  Seems to me Heather's going to have a lot of birthday cake on her hands, but that's not the worst problem in the world to have.  I am sorry for interfering with your plan.  I know you are just trying to make the day as special for her as you can.

I will get the strawberry lemonade cake for Sunday and then pick up and deliver the Kahlua cake on Monday as you've asked.

You're not a jerk for missing her birthday.  Heather loves you and she understands.

I don't like that you're not getting enough sleep, Jake, especially how hard you're working.  I'm glad to hear you ate a vegetable.  I'm your mother and I'm always going to worry about you.  It's in the job description.

 

Love,

Mom 

---

---

From: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Sent: Thu Jun 01 15:28 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

---

Jake,

Deb and Kerry are in, and Deb called Joe at work and he's in too.  Kerry called everyone else – she is big into birthdays apparently.  So, the Lisinskis are all in for a Birthday Conference Call.  Kerry even promised that John could bring a conference phone home from the office for the weekend, so they will use that on their end.  I'll talk to Eric and see if we can do the same thing here.  

If you think of anything else you need my help with, let me know.  Need to get back to work.  3 suspected cases of food poisoning just walked in.  And why was my duty nurse so gleeful when she told me that?

 

Love,

April

---

---

From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Thu Jun 01 14:44 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments: Mental_Health_Inventory_rev200603.doc

---

Jake,

We're working on your schedule, and I want you getting a solid 7 hours of sleep a night.  I'm guessing that you didn't tonight/last night if you're emailing me at 2130 your time.  I know that you’re getting up at 0300 – 0330 so that's my first concern.  Whenever you can get back to us with feedback, we'll be ready to take it.  

But don't worry, I have other things I can give the triplets to work on.  Soon as you can file your next field report, they will tear it apart (in a good way).  Seriously, I introduced them to the satellite time request process (more than 24 hours after your last field report, so probably too late) and I got smiles and squeals and "this is so cool!".  Made me feel so old by comparison.  And then I thought to myself "Give a man a fish, he eats for a day, teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime," and I felt even older.  I'd say it to them, but I'm pretty sure I'd get blank stares.  (They really aren't the noobs I am making them out to be, don't worry. They were aware that I could request satellite time, just not that they could.)

My 2-year-old will be 2 and a third tomorrow and he loves the word "No!" and doesn't believe me when I tell him he has to go to bed anymore.  So don't argue with me when I tell you to get enough sleep or I'll call your wife.  (And your mother.) 

Ask and you will receive.  Attached is the DEA's latest and greatest field agent Mental Health Inventory.  I also got Steve to send me the FBI's current version, but I thought ours was better.  (I told him that too.  My grandmother was all worried about our mixed marriage because of religious differences.  Little did they know the real issue was our interagency rivalry.)

Here are my questions for you:

 

1. Are you self-medicating in any way?  When did you last have alcohol?  How many drinks did you have?  Other forms of self-medication?  OTC/prescription/illicit drugs?

2. Can you sleep?  How long does it take you to go to sleep?  How long are you sleeping for?  What's the quality of your sleep?

3. How's your diet?  Remember you can improve your mood with just a few dietary changes.  Eat real food!  (Says the woman who bought her kid chicken nuggets, fries and a chocolate frosty for dinner last night.)

4. Take the depression assessment if nothing else.  It is very cleverly marked "Assessment of Depression". Take the Assessment of Personal Stress Level section too.  Take it all if you're willing.

 

Be honest and send these 4 things to me and we can wait until Tuesday/Wednesday to talk.  My Psych degree has to be good for something.  All of this is just between you and me, I promise.  If I ever decide to pull you, I'm pre-approved to make that call without revealing why.  I got Gretchen to agree to that, and I got it in writing.

Now I'm probably going to put my foot in it, but oh well.  I've already asked you if you're drinking too much, using/abusing, have insomnia, are eating right, or if you're depressed.  So, I no longer feel the need to be polite. (Clearly never really did.)  

As a person currently engaged in a discussion about a second kid, I can tell you that it is a good idea to talk about having kids before you have them.  As a person who did everything backwards the first time, I can honestly say that parenthood is scary however you approach it.

I got married because I was pregnant, and we both decided that it was better to be married than not.  We might not have decided that if I hadn't been pregnant though. The members of my family who could get to Chicago on 48 hours' notice to attend our lovely civil ceremony all met Steve for the first time 8 to 10 hours before we got married.  I know that when I transferred to Denver, Gretchen labelled that a whirlwind romance, but it was really a big old mess.  I had a fling with the lead agent on my joint agency taskforce and then 2 months later things got real.  I love him, but neither of us started out thinking this was where we'd end up.  So now you know the real story. 

Heather wants to discuss having kids and you are compartmentalizing.  You're a good field agent, Jake, and you're supposed to compartmentalize. They trained us to do that, though I would guess you had prior experience.  But you also get to have a life.  You forced Gretchen's hand and made her sign off on your vacation.  (Good for you!)  So, take the opportunity to talk all about having kids.  You might also want to do something about it.  And now I really have overstepped and put my foot in it.  

Just understand that my husband is in DC for 2 weeks, and I rashly decided against flying out there to see him this weekend.  So now I'm on my own with Christopher for 2 weeks and Steve has decided to go up to Rhode Island for the weekend to see his eldest sister, the one who still calls me a gold digger/slut (but not to my face, so there is that).  I should have just bitten the bullet and flown by myself with a 2-year-old, even if it was 10 hours on planes and in airports because we could have spent 40 hours with Steve. (And possibly made progress on the 2nd kid thing.)  

We all have messy lives (maybe not Gretchen, but she traded breaking the glass ceiling for having a real life) and right now my job is to make sure you reach your goal.  Get home, have a kid.  I've got that right, right?  It's not just Heather who wants a kid, right? (And you should be proud of and amazed by Heather.  That's a good and simple recipe for a happy life.  Be happy with what you have and who you have with you.  And objectively, she is a really good person.)

 

Ange

---

 

 

---

From: Eric Green 'EGreen@townofjericho.org'

Sent: Thu Jun 01 16:48 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Heather's contract

Attachments: 

---

Hi Jake,

Heather came by and showed me her contract.  She said that you suggested it, and that you guys had agreed she should take the position as long as she wasn't selling her soul.  Just so you know, such a clause would be unenforceable in any court in the State of Kansas.  (Little bit of legal humor there.)

She also said she had sent it over to G&G.  That was a good idea, I was going to suggest it myself.  But still nice that you guys thought of me.

It's impressive that she gets an offer of a vice principal position at 27 (not for 5 more days, she reminded me) with only 5 years of teaching under her belt.  

The thing is, they're not planning to pay her anything more.  She doesn't seem to care, but that's pretty lousy.  I told her she should be demanding at least a token raise.  She just said that there hasn't been a vice principal at the Elementary in 25 years (I didn't know that there ever was a vice principal at the Elementary and we went there 25 years ago) and that they are giving her a bank of substitute hours so she can do the VP job, too.  

Heather, Mom and Dad (they stopped by my office on their way to dinner) all say that this is setting her up to be named principal in a few years when Mrs. McVeigh retires.  Mom says that Kimberly McVeigh graduates college next year and so probably Mrs. McVeigh will start seriously considering retirement after that.  I guess it makes sense for Heather to make this move now, but I really think they're screwing her.

And I have to say it:  You being married to the vice principal and later the principal, what is the world coming to?

Good news about Mike.  April is really excited.  Only thing she talked about last night.

 

Eric

---

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 17:56 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Stuff

Attachments: 

---

Hi Jake,

I went by to see Eric, and it turned out he already knew about the offer.  He didn't tell me that at first, but then your parents came into his office – your dad was sneaking out for an early dinner, but he can't do that without letting Eric know?  How is that sneaking?  

Apparently Miranda Stevens called your mom this morning and told her all about the offer.  And your mom stopped in and told Eric before she went to meet you dad.  So then, he admitted that he'd already known but was still congratulatory.

I did get to tell April myself.  Eric said he hadn't talked to her all day, not even this morning because he left early to attend the Rotary Club meeting at McBee's Bakery Cafe.  I secretly find it funny that you and I talked for an hour today and Eric and April haven't exchanged 2 words.  Maybe it's not funny.  But it at least makes me feel good about us, even if I did freak you out this morning.  I'm sorry for that.  And you don't have to apologize for anything, especially for swearing at me.  I didn't take it that way.  I took it as you were upset at the situation and let's just leave it at that. But you do get so much super duper double extra credit for the Animal Farm reference. :-D 

I called April from my car after I left them, and she was just the right amount of excited and congratulatory.  I don't know why, but your parents were a little too excited, and Eric was a little too lawyerly.  But you and April got it just right.  

Your parents invited me to dinner with them, to celebrate, but I told them I had leftover Chinese and the promise of email from you at home and I turned them down.  I did feel bad about that, just not enough to go with them.  Your mom said that you were "snippy" with her in an email earlier today, but when I asked what about and she wouldn't say, so I guessed it was about my birthday.  She admitted I was right and that you have "big plans".  Jake, I love you for that, but you don't have to get snippy with your mom (and really, I can't imagine what that even means – does that mean you were grumpy to your mom?  In an email?).  I'll be more than happy with 1 phone call and 1 Skype.  I feel like I haven't seen you in a month.  Well, I feel like I haven't seen you in 4 months, but I do like to look at you every now and again.  Because I love you and you're super hot.

I haven't had time to give any more thought or investigatory effort to the big fight, though maybe it's as simple as 2 kids get to go to camp and 2 kids are jealous?  I will take back up the challenge tomorrow, promise.

Madison, it turns out was the most popular girls name in Kansas in 1996 and 1998 (and 1999 – 2001), and the second most popular in 1997.  (The most popular girls name in 1997 was Emily, which I will not comment on further.)  The kids in my class were all basically born in 1997.  There is a Madison in 2nd grade, but I think that's the last Madison in town at least for a few years.  Honestly, you get 4 or 5 or 6 kids with the same name at the Elementary (across 9 grades) and that is a big deal.  Overall, the number of Ashleys (there are 6 at the Elementary right now) in town seems higher to me than Madisons or Emilys.  If we ever have a daughter let's not go with any of those names.  Actually, I've always thought we should name our daughter after our moms, so it's a little disconcerting that Abigail has been in the top 10 (but not top 5) of girls names in Kansas the last 5 years or so.  On the other hand, at least she'd be able to get pencils with her name on them, right?   

FYI, Jacob was the most popular boys name in Kansas 1996 to 1998.  (Actually 1995 to 2004, which is the last year I can find the statistics for.)  I see a lot more Jacobs in my future, but you will always be my #1 Jake.  Actually, funnily enough, Jacob has been the most popular boys name in the US since 1999 (Kansas was ahead of the curve on that one) and it supplanted Michael which had reigned supreme since the 60s. (Poor Mikey.)  Heather was never higher than third most popular (hard to best Jennifer) and as I always say, Heather was a short blip in the 70s.  

So, there's your pop culture fact set for the day.  I got to spend a fun half hour on the internet researching this.  Aren't you glad you asked 1 simple question about Madison and ended up bringing your wife so much research joy?

Kerry actually will love it if you teach Megan to call you Uncle Cowboy Jake.  I really kind of love it too.

The Recluse Greens it is.  There is no club to have a meeting for, but I do like to get my "girl talk" in, so we can definitely spend a couple of hours apart – just long enough that we miss each other, and then we can go home and be reclusive again. :-) 

 

So, fortune cookies – "Love can last a lifetime if you want it to" / "Love can last a lifetime if you want it to in bed".  Definitely Acceptable.

"A stranger is a friend you have not spoken to yet" / "A stranger is a friend you have not spoken to yet in bed".  Strongly Rejected.

"You will conquer obstacles to achieve success" / "You will conquer obstacles to achieve success in bed".  Not sure how I feel about that one.  I think we have a high success rate and very few, if any obstacles.  And now I am blushing big time, mister.

 

I love you, Jake.  Sorry about all the craziness of today.  Not sorry that I got to talk to you for an hour today, though I know that you'll probably pay for it by being tired tomorrow.  Don't be too snippy/grumpy to your co-workers, hon.  Just Jake Green voicemail grumpy. 

 

 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Heather 

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From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 18:16 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Jake,

Your mother passed along your suggestion that we concentrate on Ganymede rather than Nero.  She showed me the records and I understand where you are coming from about Nero, he hasn't had the best success rate the last few years.

Why do you think Ganymede is the horse to use?  Why not Odysseus or Caligula?  

I would just like to understand your reasoning is all.  

Stanley has agreed to help out, and of course we have Tony and Eddie to help.  Rich Sharpe is going to come, and will probably bring Tom.  With that crew, plus Eric and myself, I think we can accomplish quite a bit over this weekend.  

I talked to Doc Hansen and to Tony, and they say we may have as many as 7 mares in estrus.  I want to be sure we are working with the right studs.  We will probably try again next weekend as well, provided we have the mares to try with.  So, if worst comes to worst, we could always try Ganymede, and then switch out if he doesn't perform.  He's only a four-year-old, did you even use him last year?  

Which would you pick as a backup?  Odysseus or Caligula?

I'm glad that Grandpa turned naming duties over to Heather.  He was starting to scrape the bottom of the history barrel when he named that horse Caligula. 

You mother and I are very proud of Heather, and we know that you are, too.  That was great news about Mike, too.  I bet Joe's just busting with pride right about now.

 

Dad

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From: Mike Lisinski

Sent: Thu Jun 01 19:33 (UTC-4)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Congratulations Man

Attachments: 

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Hey Jake,

Thanks for the email.  I was glad to get it, and not just because you're congratulating me.

It's nice to have proof that you and Heather still talk, and that you still have a job.  That maybe you guys are still married.  Good to know that you haven't secretly run out on my sister.  That's a joke, but kind of not.  You know she really misses you.  So, do your job and then get home so she doesn't turn into a depressed mess.  (And I know that you're taking her on your anniversary trip.  That was smart.  She's a super excited wife over that.  See?  She talks to me too.)

She tried to get me to come out to Jericho sometime this month.  Was going to pay for my ticket and everything.  She must be hard up for distraction and company if she's willing to do all that.  You know Heather takes after Dad – she's thrifty.  

But I need to work.  I mean I've been working all year – since I graduated, I took 2 days off and then got to work.  I've gotten to the point where I work 16-hour shifts on the ambulance (I've worked so many hours I am pretty much the senior EMT now), then have 16 hours off (with the occasional fill in shift at the rink for Jess).  

I'm going to move down to New Haven the first weekend in August (the roommate search has begun) so I basically have 60 days left to make as much money as I can.  How else am I going to pay for med school?  

Now I'm going to take a nap.  I need to leave for work in 2 hours.  Heather likes to yell at me for living on naps and not real sleep.  Sound familiar?

FYI, you guys can have kids any time you want, get her mind on somebody else, and off of thinking I need her to fill in for our mom all the time.  Plus, you guys have a kid, I will let you buy me a plane ticket to come meet my new niece or nephew.

 

Mike

 

PS: I'm taking 24 hours off so I can attend the surprise Sunday Dinner conference call thing for Heather's birthday.  My dispatcher actually thanked me for making the change so that's good.  I was supposed to go back on at 2, but instead I'm going to work 10 pm Sunday to 2 pm Monday.  Then I'll work pretty much all day on her birthday, but should be able to find time to call at some point.  Kerry, Deb, and Dad all called (and April emailed) to browbeat me into making the switch.  The things I do for my sister.

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From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Thu Jun 01 19:03 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: VP Appointment & Pre-Nup

Attachments: HL_JG_Pre_Nuptial_Agreement_rev_20060601.pdf

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Agent Green,

(I considered not addressing this email to Agent Green, but nah, a little email dalliance with my husband's secret identity is just harmless fun, right?  Actually, a dalliance with my husband's real identity, but you know what I mean.)

Like I told Jake Green, your whole family (except April) knew about the vice principal appointment before I could tell them.  Another thing to be annoyed with the school board about.  They (your parents and Eric, not the school board) were at least concerned about the no raise thing.  Eric suggested that I send it over to Gunnison & Gunnison, and I told them all I already had.  I said something about receiving a bill for it, and your dad told me that if I get one, I'm to give it to him, because if Charlie Gunnison (it's getting less weird) can't afford to give us a free hour of consultation, as much as we pay them, then he will be having a word with him. (About the entire EJ Green Family Trust?  That seems excessive.)

Still, it was super sweet of him.  (Especially since I personally have never paid G&G anything.)  Very grumbly, grumpy papa bear. 

So, I am transferring a topic from Jake Green to Agent Green because I want the real answer.  What did Mrs. Owensby call you if she wouldn't call you Jake?  Did she make you go through the whole school year as Johnston?  I'm guessing she probably wasn't going to agree to Jacob if she wouldn't acknowledge that you're Jake.  Good thing she moved out of state so I don't run into her at the grocery store. I'd be glaring daggers!

I've made the updates to the pre-nup and scanned the whole thing for you (attached).  I'll bring it with me in July and we'll have to have a re-signing ceremony on our anniversary.  Or the day before since it's a pre-nup.  Should I send this to Benji Gunnison to get his blessing?  That's a joke.  I would never let him know that I know he's "Benji". And, he would think we were both insane if I sent it to him.  Especially since you refused to have a real one.  But I bet he'd bill me for the torture of reading it.  (Not torture for you or me, but torture for anyone else, probably.)  And the Recluse Greens efforts to confuse and confound the corporate attorneys continues.

I can be patient until my birthday to find out where we are going for our anniversary.  See, was that so hard?  All you had to do was give me a timeline.

 

Love, love, love (kisses too)

Heather

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 18:49 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

CC: Agent Stephen Waller (FBI)

Subject: RE: Financial Woes

Attachments: JG_Shiny_Object_Scenario_1_JJG.xls; JG_Shiny_Object_Scenario_2_JJG.xls; JG_Shiny_Object_3_JJG.xls

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Ange and Steve – 

I've made notes on what I think works and what I think won't work.  Overall I vote for Scenario 3.  

Scenario 2 is the weakest but I liked a few things in there.  Triplet #2 at least seems to have comprehended a few things about ranching.  

Live Foal Guarantee (LFG) is a risk but it's also what makes it possible to charge the stud fees we do.  Splits the risk between the 2 parties.  If the mare doesn't conceive or dies or aborts we have to offer a "free return".  Our stud fees are anywhere between $1K and $5K plus we charge to board mares for a week or 2 while they wait for service ($100 - $150/day or $500/week) because sometimes the mare doesn't care for the contracted stallion so that lets us recoup if we don't get the stud fee.  Also, we only have a few "proven" studs so to bring/develop a new stud to market you pretty much have to give away the service and just charge the boarding fee for a couple of years.  Sometimes we board the mares through confirmation so they don't have to travel back and forth twice in a season.  

It's all a balancing act designed to make sure both sides come out okay under the worst case scenario.  See what #2 can do with that.

I want to see what Steve thinks before we proceed.  Also Ange you get to have an opinion.  What would you change about these?

 

Jake 

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 19:21 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments: Mental_Health_Inventory_rev200603_JGG.doc

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Ange

My schedule just got a whole lot more interesting for this weekend and next. I'll give more details in my sit rep that you can share with the triplets but I basically volunteered to work as much as possible on the weekends if I could get some time on Tuesday/Wednesday for Heather's birthday.  80% of the guys here are single – and when I say single I mean divorced.  Ellison is one of the 80% so he thinks I'm crazy for wanting to still be married when I leave here.  He told me that it was better to get out before you have kids and then showed me a picture of his 16yo daughter that seemed inappropriate to be the picture he carries around of his kid. But he agreed to help me out so I'm going to owe him something later.  Let's hope what I owe him is a good investigatory development.

I filled out your inventory and I was honest.  Remember I am aware that I don't want to be here so take that into account when you're evaluating me.

 

>> 1. Are you self-medicating in any way?  When did you last 

>> have alcohol?  How many drinks did you have?  Other 

>> forms of self-medication?  OTC/prescription/illicit drugs?

 

Caffeine and junk food.  9-10 days back I had a beer with Ruiz.  There's only 1 place to get alcohol here and I don't care for the crowd. But Ruiz wanted to get a drink and I went with him that day.  Mostly he gets me to play video games with him and I did that for 90 minutes tonight.  But that's not self-medication just self-humiliation.  No drugs.

 

>> 2. Can you sleep?  How long does it take you to go to 

>> sleep?  How long are you sleeping for?  What's the 

>> quality of your sleep?

 

Yes I can sleep. Usually I fall asleep in 20 min. or less.  Driving is harder work than you think.  I'm getting 5 – 6 hours a night.  Quality is so-so.  See the inventory for 30 different questions about sleep problems and 25 questions about physical wellbeing.

Don't call my wife or my mother.  You've never even met my mother and Heather's lonely and had a lot going on with work right now so I don't want to pile anything else on her.  

 

>> 3. How's your diet?  Remember you can improve your mood 

>> with just a few dietary changes.  Eat real food!  (Says 

>> the woman who bought her kid chicken nuggets, fries and 

>> a chocolate frosty for dinner last night.)

 

See my earlier answer. Sounds like Christopher and I are eating about the same.  I'm more of a burger guy than a chicken nugget guy.  My mother told me to eat a vegetable in her last email so I had a vegetable yesterday and 2 today.  The food here is not good and the options are limited.  Also I eat most meals in my rig so I eat what is available and I can take with me.  I'll try and watch it though.

 

>> Take it all if you're willing.

 

I did.

 

>> If I ever decide to pull you, I'm pre-approved to make that

>> call without revealing why.  I got Gretchen to agree to that,

>> and I got it in writing.

 

Care to share?  Seriously forward that email.

 

>> And now I really have overstepped and put my foot in it.  

 

Yeah but I'm going to let it go this time.  Also maybe you and Steve weren't planning anything more than a fling but you're pretty good together.  Sorry your kid loves the word No but I hear they grow out of that by the time they're in their 30s.  (Not sure my mother would agree.)  You should tell your sister in law to pound sand.  Steve should tell her that too.  If he can fly to RI for the weekend he can fly home to see you.  And you don't have to rearrange your life to be available to me.  I'm not that fragile.  Now I've overstepped.

 

>> make sure you reach your goal.  Get home, have a kid.  I've

>> got that right, right?  It's not just Heather who wants a 

>> kid, right? 

 

That's the goal.  And it's not just Heather.

 

Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 19:48 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA); SAIC G Tolliver (DEA)

Subject: Sit Rep 6/2

Attachments: 

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Ange and Gretchen –

Nothing interesting to report re: my assignments or cargo since earlier this week.

I have been putting myself in Ellison's way so to speak.  Sometimes it's by luck.  I was headed out to call Heather last night and stopped to talk to Ruiz when Ellison walked by and slowed down to listen in.  He heard me remind Ruiz about my financial difficulties.  (He was obviously eavesdropping.  I still think he's key but they really aren't being as cautious as they should be.  You'd think that would make them easier to catch.)

Today I asked for an assignment on Tuesday that would keep me in the Green Zone all day and would let me off by 1330. I also asked if I could not start until 0600 on Wednesday.  I had to tell him it was so I could call my wife a couple of times for her birthday.  Let's just say he thinks I'm pretty whipped.  But I offered to work extra over this weekend and next.  Whatever he'd like me to do.  Told him I would owe him big time.  He was interested in that – agreed to the schedule change.

I don't know if we've ever been able to run background on him – John Ellison – but today I got that he's from McCook Nebraska.  I've driven through McCook a few times so that may have earned me some credibility points.  There's a diner there that he likes and I've eaten at.  Pretty sure it's the only one in town.  Something for the triplets to chase down anyway.  

 

Jake

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From: Agent Stephen Waller (FBI) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 13:07 (UTC+4)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Financial Woes

Attachments: 

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Jake, 

I'm voting for Scenario #3 as well, but I think that #2 should be awarded second place because Triplet #2 took the risk of incorporating the ranching angle.  That's worth some additional recognition.  Though if the DEA doesn't want Triplet #2, I'm always looking for good junior analysts at the FBI. 

I want to pick your brain about this topic sometime (when you're not in the field).  I've been called in to consult on money laundering schemes that are run through thoroughbred racing, and our specialist in that area is leaving for greener pastures (pun intended) in the private sector.  

I realize there are differences between what you're doing with your ranch and these operations (I don't hear of a lot of thoroughbreds coming out of KS) but the schemes all seem to have this pattern: Set up a bunch of LLCs and give them all a bunch of nonexistent horses with funny names and charge back and forth all these fees.  It's hard to prove that a horse doesn't exist if there is documentation that says the horse was sold 3 states over and then when we look into that LLC the horse has already been sold again by the time we get there, ad infinitum.  Obviously, there are other factors, but I don't know that we ever look for the missing negatives. How often do horses not get pregnant?  Die or abort?  No venture is 100% successful, but criminals never build in natural business risk because their goal is to launder money, not to show losses.  I hadn't thought of this approach before today.  

Thank you for whatever you said to Ange too.  I'm going home this weekend.  Also, I plan to tell my sister to pound sand.  I was going to tell her to take a long walk off a short pier (that was quite the cut low when I was young) but I like yours better.  She's going to be trying to figure out what that means for days. 

 

Steve

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From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 11:16 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments: 

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Jake,

Congratulations, you're sane.  

I'll have more for you later, but since I hope you're listening to me and going to bed soon, I wanted to catch you to give you that good news and to say thank you.  

You spurred me to call my husband and tell him to come home for the weekend.  Turns out he wanted to, and he doesn't even have to quit his job to do it. (Sorry.  Like I said, Heather is an objectively good person.)  

Also, turns out that he's even more annoyed with his sister than I am.  So that feels good too.  He might even have decided to visit her so he could tell her off.  But I'd rather he come home.

You're not fragile, but I am still available to you when you need me.  It's my job and we're friends (I think).  Until you're home, I'm here for you.  But you having a kid is outside my scope of responsibility, so you'll have to figure that one out for yourself.

 

Ange

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 20:20 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: VP Appointment & Pre-Nup

Attachments: 

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Heather – 

How is it that our pre-nup requires me to make you pancakes but doesn't require you to make me peanut butter cookies? How did that happen?  Did you accidentally on purpose lose a page?  I mean you make me peanut butter cookies but still.  

Now I want a peanut butter cookie. Maybe a dozen.  But I still don't want to deal with care packages so maybe on our vacation.  We're staying in a condo with a full kitchen.  That's your one freebie before your birthday.

I don't flirt with every woman I meet.  But you're right about Gramps – he was a flirt. And he was always always always way too old for you.  Plenty of people thought I was too old for you so he was definitely too old for you.    

I'm glad that everything worked out with G&G.  And Dad's right.  They can give us an hour's consultation.  The retainer is ridiculous.  So yeah if they don't want to do us this favor under the retainer then he should threaten to take our business elsewhere. 

And what do you mean our pre-nup isn't real?  Sure it's not the pre-nup that G&G thought we should have.  (And you do remember that Gramps ripped them a new one when he found out right?  He was even more upset because he'd already told them no when April and Eric got married.)  But just because lawyers don't understand our pre-nup doesn't mean it's not real.  It works great for us.  You should send them the pre-nup to review.  I'd like to see what they do with that.  And that review should be free too. 

Should I be worried that you have a specific memory of Ben Gunnison from our wedding (speaking of flirting again)?  

 

Things I Remember About Our Wedding: 

* You 

* That it took forever to take all the pictures

* You 

* Our first dance and even more our second first dance

* You 

* The lecture April gave me during our dance 

* You 

* That Mags caught your bouquet & that Mike caught the garter

* You 

* That my mom dragged us into the kitchen to explain in crazy detail the cooler she'd had packed for us (and that we really enjoyed it at 3 AM)

* You 

* That we finally got to leave the reception 

* You 

* The unexpected send-off

* You 

I also remember that there were nearly 300 people at our wedding – and at least 100 of them really didn't need to be there.  But I sure as hell didn't remember that the Gunnisons were even invited (makes more sense than Phil and Judy Constantino) or that we shook hands with Ben.   

Mrs. Owensby called me "Johnston Jr."  Every single time she called on me or yelled at me or whatever.  For a whole year.  Like my dad might show up at school sometime and wouldn't know that she was talking to me and not to him.  My mom even came down to school and talked to her after the first week but it didn't matter.  I think my dad might have even tried to talk to her.  

My dad is the one who decided to call me Jake when I was born.  I probably never told you that.  Maybe Mom did?  It was Mom's idea to name me after him and when he asked what they would call me she said Johnny.  (Dad was Johnny until he was 10 or so.)  He didn't like that so he suggested Jake.  Even when I can't stand him I always remember he did that for me.  Maybe if I'd always been Johnny it wouldn't sound as weird but I'm glad I'm Jake.  Real glad I'm Heather Green's #1 Jake.

Babe I love that you want to glare daggers at Mrs. Owensby.  Always defending my honor.  We didn't put that in the pre-nup either but it turns out we didn't need to.  We just both do it. 

We can have a signing ceremony or we can just initial all the changes.  Whatever you want.  I'll just be happy we're in the same place.

I sent Mike a congratulations email yesterday and he emailed me back and told me that you wanted him to fly out to see you this month.  He also said that he can't afford to miss that much work.  He called you thrifty (you know what that's code for) and said you must really want company if you're making that offer.  I'm sorry he turned you down but you can always go see him.  I know you promised you'd go riding to make me happy but if you want to hang out with your brother instead then do it.  You'd get to hang out with everyone.  You'd get to teach Megan to call me Uncle Cowboy Jake.  Think about it ok?  And hey how proud of you is your dad?  I bet he's bragging on you to all the widows at church.

 

Love you

Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 20:27 (UTC+3)

To: April Green 'AGreenDoc' 

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Thanks April.

Mike said he's in for the birthday conference call surprise.  Even rearranged his shifts so he could be there. 

I think I've got everything covered. Turns out there is a coffee of the week subscription so good call there.  (And yes I've met Heather.  I kind of love her.) 

Mom's helping out too.  There's one more thing I haven't completely figured out how to do but I think she can handle it so you're off the hook for now.  You've already gone above and beyond.  

 

Love Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 20:42 (UTC+3)

To: Mike Lisinski

Subject: RE: Congratulations Man

Attachments: 

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Mike –

Just so we're clear I'm never going to run out on your sister.  And I'm working as hard as I can to keep her from giving up on me.

You're kidding yourself if you think having a kid will stop her from big sistering/momming you.  That might stop when you get married.  Maybe.  40% chance.  Sorry man.

And as soon as your niece or nephew is on the way I'm sending you an open ticket.  Probably a couple.  You and your dad.  We're going to want you both there and I've never been above doing things that earn me bonus points with Heather.

 

Jake

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From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Fri Jun 02 20:48 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Thanks Mom.  

I was apologizing for being a jerk to you too.  Sorry for that. 

I need another favor.  You guys still have a fax machine at the house right?  I want to send you something to take to the florist's so they can deliver it with Heather's birthday roses.  But I don't want to send it to the florist shop because I don't want it all over town.  So if I fax you something can you put it in an envelope and drop it off for me?

I ate 2 vegetables today.  3 if you count pickles which I'm sure you don't.  

 

Love Jake

---

 

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From: Jake Green (personal) 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 21:01 (UTC+3)

To: Johnston Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Dad

Caligula has always been hit or miss.  He's moody.  He's also Nero's brother (historically inaccurate – Nero was Caligula's nephew).  They have the same sire, too, not just dam (I forget the names but both horses were favorites of Gramps).  Caligula is 2 or 3 years younger but has never sired more than 1 or 2 foals in a season.  He's moody and most mares just aren't interested. It's a bad name for a horse and he's lived up to the name.  

There was a Tiberius too but he was sold years ago.  Nero was a better horse than his name would suggest but Gramps probably should have avoided Roman Emperors completely.   

We could use Odysseus but he and Agamemnon are of the same sire with different dams.  We should try for genetic diversity.  That leaves Ganymede or Jupiter (both by Nero but different dams) and I have a better feeling about Ganymede is all.  We didn't use him last year although we could/should have.  He seemed more interested in the mares than Jupiter did.  We need to start developing another stud.  Nobody is going to pay the stud fee we want to charge until he's proven, so that means we need to breed him to our own horses to get some foals on the ground.  Same could be said for Jupiter.  

Agamemnon is our best stud today but we need to plan for the future.  I think Ganymede is the future.  You will need to take your time with him at least for the first cover. But he's a smart horse so I think he'll figure it out.  I'd pick Jupiter as back up to Ganymede and then Odysseus.  

It's late in our season but some farms breed into July. It's Gramps's rule to not go past/into June but most of our mares have always been in foal by June.  So you could do a weekend now and then another at the end of June? Or beginning of July?  Remember most mares have a 3 week cycle.  

We're not breeding racehorses. We could try switching to AI for some mares but I didn't think I could (legally) make that decision on my own and it's too late to switch this season anyway.  AI has its own set of issues.  I'm not sure I want to spend my time collecting and dispensing horse semen.  I think nature's already figured out the best way to do that.  We just intervene to select for a better outcome right?

Sorry I didn't make it back in time to take care of this myself.  Thanks for taking up the slack.  

Of course I'm proud of Heather.  She's worked really hard for this and it's what she wants to do careerwise.  She's a great teacher and I'm sure she's going to be the world's best vice principal.  

 

Jake

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From: April Green 'AGreenDoc' 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 13:17 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Jake,

You're welcome.  

But you "kind of love Heather"?  You better get a little more effusive, brother, or I'm tellin'. ;-)

Like I said, let me know if there's anything else I can do.  

And congratulations!  You're married to the new vice principal and your brother thinks the end is nigh.

We'll have a conference phone on our end on Sunday, too.  Eric was kind of balky so I called Dad and he promised that he'd take the heat for any ethics inquiry into the use of public resources for a private event.  Feel free to roll your eyes, I sure did.  And Eric finally agreed to bring the phone, handle setup, etc.

 

Love,

 

April  

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From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Fri Jun 02 21:23 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Stuff

Attachments: 

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Hi Babe

I ran out of time to answer my email tonight so I'm going to try to keep this short so I can get to bed.

That was a lot of detail on what people in KS name their kids.  Why did people all of a sudden pick the name Madison?  That was my real question.  Since you enjoyed the research project, I'm glad you got to do it.  But I just wanted to know where did everyone hear Madison and decide that was a good girls name?  Don't they realize they're naming girls after the smallest US president ever?

You know Mom is going to say she hates it/secretly love it if we name our daughter after her.  She would argue for your mom's name as a first name but I also know that you'd prefer ARG to RAG for initials.  We've had this conversation remember?  (The first time we had it you were concussed so that's the only reason I'm asking.)  I agree that ARG is a better set of initials FYI.  But it still dooms our daughter to dressing as a pirate for Halloween for her entire life.

Also why are we allowed to talk about our future kids in email but not on the phone?  We've always talked about this/them.  I know we said we'd wait until we could do it in person but I still don't get it. 

I lost track of where I was going with that. 

The only obstacle I am aware of is the 7000 miles.  Now that I've made you blush again I'm going to hit send and go to bed.  

 

Love you

 

Jake 

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From: Gail Green 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 14:04 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Jake, honey, no need to apologize, but I do accept your apology.

We still have the fax machine but your father gave up the second phone line when we upgraded to DSL.  So, you'll have to let me know when you're planning to send your fax (to the home number) so I can switch the phone line to the fax machine.  

Your father wants to get an early start out at the ranch tomorrow.  We'll probably leave here at 6:30 - 6:45. I tried to tell him that Saturday is Heather's only sleep-in day, but he's planning to call her tonight to warn her, so I'm sure we'll keep to the schedule.  (We're bringing doughnuts to soften the blow, and she's welcome to sleep in, just know that we'll be downstairs in the kitchen and study.)  I'll have to go with him first thing because he still says he doesn't know how to turn off the alarm.  But that means we'll probably be leaving before you're done with work for the day, right?  (I couldn't believe it when Heather told me you have to work Saturdays too.)

Your best bet is to call me on Sunday or Monday mornings.  I think that works best with your schedule.  I'll switch the line over and we should be in business. 

Your father has already warned me that if they can't get to all the mares tomorrow, they'll likely try to finish up Sunday morning, but that doesn't mean I have to go along.  I'm willing to support his endeavors tomorrow, but this Sunday is all for Heather's birthday.  And I'd like to attend church (I should leave by 9:50 so if you can call before then that would be good) even if your father plays hooky.  

You pick which day works for you, and I will take your message over to the Edgars' shop on Monday afternoon, then I'll pick up the cake, deliver it to the ranch and get in a few hours of bookkeeping.  

I'm planning it for late in the day because I must admit I never remember how to use the lineage software, so I hope Heather comes home in time to walk me through it for the millionth time. I can run the reports, but I never remember how to add a breeding event, and heaven help me if I have to add an actual horse to the database.  

I still haven't gotten the entry in for the Sharpes' mare from a few weeks ago, but I can take care of all of that on Monday.  The Sharpes are also bringing over 2 mares this afternoon (Tony said he could handle that without me) as barter for Rich and Tom's assistance this weekend and next.  If I'm lucky I'll have 10 entries to make, and that may finally teach me/make it stick.

Dad and I are so proud of and excited for Heather and Michael both. This has been a week of wonderful news!

I'm also proud of you for eating 2 vegetables in one day.  And you are correct, pickles are not a vegetable.  They are pickles.

 

Love Mom

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From: Johnston Green (personal) 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 16:11 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Jake,

I had to look up Tiberius to see how he was related to Caligula and Nero, couldn't remember.  I'd forgotten just how odd all those Roman Empire family relationships could be.  Makes our squabbles look like squabbles.

Also reminded me of that time Grandma pulled me aside after church to let me know that the night before she'd overheard (and put a stop to) Grandpa telling you boys a bedtime story that involved murder and mayhem and orgies in ancient Roman high society.  She was spitting nails mad at him.  So, we took you boys home and I figured I better suss out what you'd learned, and when I asked you told me about some Emperor (Tiberius I now know) being smothered to death – but you seemed to think it meant he'd been killed in a pillow fight.  Then Eric told me about the emperor having orgies with children, so I asked what he thought an orgy was (never have I been so scared to hear an answer) and it turned out you 2 had decided (based on the fact that Grandpa had said an orgy was a grown-up party that children didn't like) that an orgy was exactly like the pinochle party your mother and I had hosted the night before – the whole reason you'd spent the night at the ranch.  I thought it was funny, but your mother was somewhat less amused once I let her in on the joke.  She made me go back and tell you that most adults didn't like orgies either, which I think I would have said if I hadn't been so shocked by my father, and if both of you hadn't earnestly accused me of hosting one the night before.

But still after all that, he named those horses after those Roman Emperors.  He should have just stuck to the Greeks, for bedtime stories and naming horses, at least until you boys were teenagers.

And Nero, Caligula, and Tiberius (I assume) are likely the offspring of Romeo and Titania.  Those were Grandpa's longtime favorites.  He was borrowing names from Shakespeare for more than 2 decades.  You probably already know this, but my horse when I was a teenager was Iago.

Thank you for the background on the horses.  I'm going to take your advice.  We'll try Ganymede out but let Agamemnon carry most of the load for us. Jupiter and then Odysseus as backups.

I'll think about maybe spacing breeding weekends out, and going into July. 

And when you get home, we should talk about AI.  I've always thought it had its merits and its drawbacks, but Grandpa never even wanted to discuss.  Not saying we should do it, but it would be good to discuss.  Of course, if we use AI for our mares, then how do we convince others to bring their mares to us for stud service?  Still, something to kick around.

We're going to get an early start tomorrow.  We'll huddle up at 7 or 7:30 and hopefully be doing our first cover by 8 am.  Maybe a little later if we start with Ganymede.  Wish you were here to organize things.  You have an instinct about horses, son, no denying it.  You mother says you have to work Saturdays too, and Heather says your shifts are 10 or 12 hours most days, so I know you will have a busy day, just maybe less interesting than if you were home.

 

Take care of yourself, Jake. 

 

Dad

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From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Fri Jun 02 16:06 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments: 

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Jake,

I'm the only one who is ever going to say this, at least in the DEA, so I'm going to say it.  I know you're rearranging everything so you can try and make it up to Heather for missing her birthday, but the DEA also owes you because it works very well for the operation.  If nothing else, Ellison has noticed you exist.  So, there's your attaboy.  

Nothing stood out as a red flag for me in your inventory.  Clearly you are tired (I would diagnose exhausted) and I wish you weren't 5 weeks away from your vacation, and I wish you didn't have to go into your vacation exhausted.  But not much I can do about that except harangue you from afar to get more sleep.

Keep avoiding alcohol, especially if you can't stand the crowd.  Maybe find someone who is more your speed to play video games against.  Eat vegetables.  Get more sleep.  Prioritize doing one thing that makes you happy every day, which for you, I'm pretty sure, means that you should find time to call your wife.

And with that, I'm calling it for the weekend and thus leaving the triplets unsupervised for a whole hour.  I'm still available to you whenever you need.  Call me.  Email me.  Let me know what I can do for you.  

 

Stay safe, Jake.   

 

Ange

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From: Heather Green (home) 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 19:14 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: RE: VP Appointment & Pre-Nup

Attachments: HL_JG_Pre_Nuptial_Agreement_rev_20060602.pdf

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Agent Green,

I don't know that I like what you're implying, mister.  I have not accidentally on purpose lost any pages of the pre-nup.  However, because I am feeling very generous this evening, I have, completely of my own volition, added a peanut butter cookie clause to the pre-nup.  Hence, the latest and greatest revision is attached.

But really, when have I not made you peanut butter cookies? (Unless I was ill or under a major deadline for school, and we have exceptions for things like that.)  I am happy to hear that we'll have a kitchen on our vacation.  You may wine and dine me in the evening, but it will be good to be able to make coffee and breakfasts, maybe some lunches in our own space.  I also expect pancakes at least once.  (Or once per week?  Each Saturday of our vacation?)  And I will definitely make you peanut butter cookies.  Now I will wait patiently for the big reveal as to where this kitchen is located.

We're so having a pre-nup (re-nup?) signing ceremony.  I'm even bringing special pens like it's major legislation and we're in the White House Rose Garden. ;-)

Ben Gunnison called me at 4 (Barbara had warned him to wait for school to be over which was very nice of her) and let me know that there is nothing that gives him pause about the contract changes except that I'm not getting paid anything additional.  (He actually said "any more" but I heard "anymore" so I asked if he was saying they weren't going to pay me at all.  I wasn't being funny, that's actually what I heard, but I embarrassed him and I felt really bad about that.)  I told him that everyone in the Green family was put out over my non-raise, so he could join the club.  Anyway, I'm going to sign the contract and return it on Monday.  (Speak now or forever hold your peace, Jake.  You have until Monday.)

I was not flirting when I call Ben Gunnison "Mr. Gunnison" at our wedding.  It was like muscle memory, and we were both embarrassed.  (Seems to be a theme with me and your lawyer.)  There were A LOT of people in that reception line, and that is the only thing I really remember from it.  I'm very glad that the thing you most remember from our wedding is that I was there.  That's what I most remember too, that you were there.  And that I didn't think it would feel that different to be married (vs. being engaged), but it turned out it did.  All in a very good and wonderful way.

I am skipping the rest of the very obvious debate to be had about flirting because, honestly, that will be a fun in person conversation. You are forewarned. 

Also, speaking of accusations of flirting, my dad doesn't chat up the widows at church!  That was Gramps all the way.  (I know you know this, but he flirted with me to tweak you.  And when you weren't there, then he was pleading your case.  I remember the first time he called you my "young buck".  Major blush moment but I so wanted it to be true.)

I haven't told Dad or anyone named Lisinski about the vice principal appointment because I don't want to steal Mikey's thunder.  I'll tell them all next week after it's official official.  If you email Mikey back, please don't tell him. 

Maybe I'll go to Buffalo sometime this summer.  (Not if you come home, though.)  But for the first week at least I'm just going to sleep in and go riding with April and read fun but bad science fiction. 

The Mrs. Owensby thing makes me want to ask Mrs. Walker where exactly she moved to.  (I know the Chicago area to be closer to her daughter, but I want an address.)  I would so go glare laser beams at her, forget daggers.  Bet I could get April to go with me as a road trip.  And really, Johnston Jr.?  All year?  That's 4 syllables!  (In college, I had an Anastasia in my day camp camper group and I was so tired of saying that 4 syllable name a thousand times each day once those 2 months were over.  And, Johnston Jr. feels like it takes a little longer to say to me.  Probably the vowel to consonant ratio.)  Mrs. Walker didn't call you Johnston Jr. too, did she?  I might have to re-evaluate my stance.

But I really love knowing that about your dad – that he's the one who ultimately named you.  Your mom hasn't gotten around to telling me that story. (But if she ever does, I will lap it up.)  Also, is it shallow if I say that I'm glad your dad named you Jake and didn't go along with Johnny?  Only because it would have given me a moment's pause when you first told me your name if you'd told me my brother's name.  You have never reminded me of my brothers but that would have definitely taken a moment to process, and I was already processing a lot.  And you are most definitely Heather Green's #1 Jake 4EVR.  <3 <3 <3

Also, since I was working on the pre-nup/re-nup anyway, I made the executive decision to add a new section at the end (well, the current end) titled "It Goes Without Saying..." and listed that we always defend one another's honor.  Not a requirement, but an acknowledgement of fact.  

 

Love, love, love you!

 

Heather

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From: Heather Green (home) 

Sent: Fri Jun 02 20:42 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Stuff

Attachments: 

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Hi Jake,

New rule/requirement.  If it's after 9 pm for you, then you don't have to email me back, OK?  It's more important to me that you get sleep than I hear from you every day.  I want to hear from you of course, but I don't want you making yourself sick through sleep deprivation.  So that's my new rule.

I guess I did go overboard on the names research.  The funny thing is, I kind of have the same question you do – why are people choosing Madison?  It might be the nickname (Maddy) but if I wanted to call my daughter Maddy (which I don't), I'd probably name her Madeline (there's a children's book series called the Madeline books).  But I don't know why people are choosing Madison.  

I looked up James Madison, and you're right, he was tiny.  When I'm both taller than and outweigh a US president, he was a small guy.  I'm mean, I'm only an inch taller, but still.  How did you remember that?  And who taught you that?  The nuns at my school didn't give us these interesting details.  

I do remember discussing our pirate daughter, even though I was concussed.  You even promised that you would dress up as a pirate with us, probably because you thought I wouldn't remember that later.  As for your mom, she's going to be too busy telling everyone that she's a grandma to pretend to hate anything.  I really think her reaction is going to be us getting engaged to the power of 10.  That or she'll totally play it cool and then we'll be so confused and won't know how to react.

Sorry, I got a call from your dad.  (Okay, I just realized you can't possibly know that I stepped away from the computer, duh.  I'm tired tonight.  And already in my pjs.  But they're not flannel, and that's all you get.)  They're starting early tomorrow with the breeding.  He wanted to make sure I knew they'd be here by 7 and that it was OK to use the kitchen. (Of course.)  He promised to bring doughnuts and your mom promised to bring lunch fixings, so I'll be well fed, I guess.  

I know I'm being inconsistent.  I say things and then I get mad at you for saying the same things.  I start it and then I don't want to finish it.  I don't know why except maybe there are things I am afraid to hear when we're not together.  So next time I say something about it, just say something back.  

It's been a week.  And I know yours was a lot harder, so don't hate me when I say I'm going to go to bed, and I honestly don't care if there's a house full of people tomorrow morning and I'm the bad hostess who doesn't get up til noon. (And your mom did tell me to feel free to sleep in 4 times, so I'd say she wants me to sleep in though I'm not sure why.)

 

Love you,

 

Heather 

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From: Mike Lisinski  

Sent: Fri Jun 02 22:27 (UTC-4)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: RE: Congratulations Man

Attachments: 

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Jake,

Dude, we have an agreement that you don't talk/brag about the sex you have with my sister.  You can have it, but don't tell me about it.  And talking about Heather and bonus points in the same sentence is totally crossing that line.

And let me live in my delusion about redirecting Heather's maternal instinct from me to her actual kids.  After all there's still a chance, right?

 

Mike

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sat Jun 03 18:23 (UTC+3)

To: Eric Green (home); Eric Green 'EGreen@townofjericho.org'

Subject: Heather's Contract

Attachments: 

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Eric –

Thanks for taking a look at Heather's contract.  I knew they were screwing her over and I agree they should have given her some sort of raise.  But she's always gone above and beyond and has never been paid for it.  She really wants to take the job even if what it means is she has to do 2 jobs and only get paid for 1.

Thanks for helping Dad out at the ranch this weekend.  I tried to do some breeding before I left for Afghanistan but you have to put the mares under the lights 24/7 (starting December 1) to bring them into estrus in early February and even then it doesn't always work.  I didn't start it until mid-December plus I always feel like I'm torturing the horses.  

I didn't expect this job to run this long.  So thanks for helping salvage the season.

 

Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sat Jun 03 18:32 (UTC+3)

To: April Green 'AGreenDoc'

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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April –

Is this effusive enough?  I love Heather more than I love my own life.  Sounds dramatic but it's true.

Thanks for confirming that it still freaks Eric out that I might be a contributing member of society married to a definite contributing member of society.  In the email he sent me he was all wow what is the world coming to?  Good to know what he really thinks.

Turns out Heather hasn't told her dad or anyone else about the promotion – she doesn't want to steal Mike's thunder. So maybe warn everyone else before the conference call tomorrow?  She's planning to tell them next week and she should get to be the one who tells them.

 

Love Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sat Jun 03 18:39 (UTC+3)

To: Mike Lisinski  

Subject: RE: Congratulations Man

Attachments: 

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Mike – 

I haven't been within 7K miles of my wife/your sister in 4 months.  Nothing to talk or brag about.  

It'll be 5 months by the time we finally get to see each other.  Pretty sure I won't have to call on bonus points. Just make sure we're in the same place. (That's a prediction not bragging.)

And where does future Dr. Lisinski think his niece/nephew will come from anyway?

 

Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sat Jun 03 19:04 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: VP Appointment & Pre-Nup

Attachments: 

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Mrs. Green – 

Didn't mean to imply a thing.  Nothing at all.  Thanks for the updates they all look good.  I like the new section, and thanks for rectifying my peanut butter cookie oversight.  I am sure the mistake was all mine.  We can have a signing ceremony and then a reception afterward – champagne and peanut butter cookies.

And I will make you pancakes each Saturday of our vacation ok?  That's 3 Saturdays in a row of pancakes.  

Now there are 2 copies of our pre-nup in the discovery dump.  So the soulless corporate attorney gets to review it free of charge (to us).  Almost as good as sending it to Benji Gunnison.

Sign the contract Heather.  You've read it.  I've read it.  Ben and Eric have read it.  Sure it's no more money but it's not a trap.  It's what you want and I want it for you.  It'll be a lot of work but you're going to be great at it.  And then you'll be a great principal when they promote you again.  So I am speaking now not holding my peace and you can sign it as soon as you see this email.  Drop it off at the district HQ before school on Monday instead of after.  

And call your dad.  Mike is not going to mind sharing a little thunder with you.  You're his favorite sister.

You're my favorite person in the universe.  All of them.  

And being married to you is so much better than just being lucky enough to love you (which was already pretty damn good).  Surprised me too that getting married made it all feel different.  Freddie tells me I'm an old married guy so I'm glad I get to be your old married guy and your #1 Jake.  (And that I'm not Johnny.)  

 

Love you

 

Jake

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From: Jake Green (personal) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 19:42 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Stuff

Attachments: 

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Hey Babe –

I'll try to follow your rule.  Yesterday my problem was I emailed my parents ahead of you.  That broke my rule of always reading and responding to your email first.  Probably the shock of my Dad emailing me.  And asking for advice/input plus he says we should discuss the merits of moving to AI.  

He's going to try to breed 7 mares in one day.  I think Gramps and I together (with help) only ever did 5 in a day.  

I hope you're just waking up.  Don't feel bad about telling me you're sleeping in.  I can't wait til I can sleep in with you.  And if my parents feel the need to camp out in our kitchen on a Saturday morning then anything they overhear is on them.  Sorry, I'm not actually trying to leave you blushing.  I've had a long day/week too and I miss you.

What grade do they assign out the presidents for reports?  I got James Madison that year.  I probably should remember more than that he was short and didn't weigh a 100 lbs soaking wet but that's what I remember.  Also he got us into the War of 1812.  Wrote some of the Federalist Papers.  Helped call the Constitutional Convention.  And his stepson was no good with money/plantation management so he ended up poor.  Ok that's really all I remember.

I'm fine with dressing up as a pirate with you and our kids for Halloween (The Recluse Pirate Greens) as long as there's no makeup involved. That's my main costume rule.  No makeup.  

And no way Mom can play it cool.  You do realize she's going to move in with us.  Probably for years.  

Ok.  If the first thing you did after you woke up at noon was check your email I'm suggesting/telling you go downstairs right now and have coffee and donuts.  I hope they remembered to get your favorites and to save them for you.  They're borrowing our kitchen after all.

I'm going to let you go.  Have a good day.  Wander down to the barn and see how they're doing if you want.  Maybe not.  I know you still think it's a little weird. But if you do I'd love an on the ground report from my favorite person in the universe.

 

I love you

 

Jake

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From: Jake Green (personal) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:02 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Mom –

I'll call you on your cell phone at about 9:30 tomorrow ok?  That way we can still talk and I can be sure you get the fax.  It's a whole process here to get to use a fax machine but I'm sending a handwritten note so this is the way I have to do it.

You're still going to go to church even if Dad has to go back to the ranch tomorrow right?  I don't know that Dad can get 7 mares done in a day let alone 9.  Gramps and I always thought it was a good day to finish 5.  And he's going to use Ganymede who is unproven so far.

It's not too bad working Saturdays.  Better to have something to do here than too much free time on my hands.  Maybe if I had an hour more to wind down at night that would be good.  Wish I could talk to Heather more but the time difference makes it hard. Part of my plan for her birthday is to talk to her 4 times.  She doesn't know that yet so don't tell her ok?  And when I get home I'm not going anywhere for a year at least.

 

Love Jake

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From: Jake Green (personal) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:19 (UTC+3)

To: Johnston Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Dad –

I'd rather be home to help this weekend.  Breeding horses can be hard work but it's way better than driving a truck.  Horses have personalities and that makes them interesting.  (A strike against AI but we should still discuss.)  I hope everything goes well.  You know that if you can even breed 5 mares and introduce Ganymede to his job you should call it a success.  That's about the most Gramps and I ever tried to do in one day.

So that story about Gramps and the Roman Emperors?  Is it ok if I forward that email to Heather?  She likes stories about my childhood and about Gramps (this one may be pushing it) and I don't think I could ever retell it and do it justice. (Not sure I want to send it to her but just in case.) 

I've always thought pillow fights were dumb and now I know where that came from.  Never played pinochle.  What's the point of a card game that uses a deck that looks like a regular one but then you realize it isn't?  

I can't believe Gramps was telling us about Roman orgies when we were 7 or 8.  I don't remember this but I believe you.  He wouldn't tell Heather about Cormac Green's 2 wives named Mary and she's an adult but he'd tell little kids about that.

So when Heather and I have kids don't tell them stories like that.  Military/most history fine.  Cowboy stories are good.  Animal adventures great.  Roman emperors no.

Also please never say the word orgy out loud around me.  Or even type it again.  Thanks.

 

Jake

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From: Jake Green (personal) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:35 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: Monday

Attachments: 

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Hey Babe –

Mom's going to come out to the ranch on Monday afternoon.  She's doing me a favor and she's hoping you'll be around to do her a favor.  Don't tell her I told you but she needs help with the lineage software.  So if you're looking for a reason to leave school a little early on Monday she'd love the help.  

My parents feel bad for me because I have to work on Saturdays.  I take it that they don't know I work Sundays too?  That we drive every day?  Don't tell them.  They wouldn't believe you or   they'd really start to worry about me.  I'm tired and probably should eat better but nothing you need to worry about either ok?

Dad told me to take care of myself and that he wished I was there to organize things today.

 

Love you

 

Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:56 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: Quick favor

Attachments: 

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Babe –

My parents and Eric all told me how happy for/proud of you they are about you being appointed vice principal and also mentioned being happy for/proud of Mike.  They all emailed me at my other account.

If you don't mind send Jake Green an email mentioning that your brother got into medical school.  It'll be a weird order but just to be safe it would be good if you told the other me the good news about your brother.  Maybe just talk about it like of course I already know.

Sorry I have to bother you about this.  

Just under the wire for the 9 pm rule.  Going to bed now like a good boy.

 

Love you 

 

Jake

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From: Heather Green (home) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 14:43 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: The Breeding Report

Attachments: 

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Hi Jake,

Well now I wish I had slept in so I would have maybe been able to catch you.  I would have dared to call you if I'd gotten your email right when it came in. 

Your parents really seemed surprised to hear that you had to drive on Saturdays, so you're right, I never told them you drive on Sundays, too.  I hope that's OK.  I don't always know what I should say to them, so I err on the side of caution.

I got 8+ hours of sleep and still got up at 6:30 this morning, so when your parents got here, I already had the coffee made.  I hadn't turned off the alarm though and your father seemed grumpy (or is it snippy?  Sorry, that's snarky) about your mom making him stand there and watch how she disarmed it.  But it's really not that hard. 

I wasn't really dressed (I mean I had clothes on, it wasn't awkward) but after they got here, I grabbed coffee número dos, then went back upstairs and showered and got dressed for real.  By the time I made it back down, April, Eric and the Sharpes had all arrived, and Eric, your dad, Rich and Tom had already gone down to the hospital barn.  

But your mom made sure to save me my doughnuts (helps that your dad and I have the same favorites, he made sure to order for both of us specifically) and Carla Sharpe was there too, so we had an impromptu ladies' continental breakfast which Stanley crashed for about 10 minutes before your mom made him go down to the barn.

Let me pause now to say that if you were here, I would have slept in as late as you did.  But you would have probably had to get up and go help/run the whole operation so that wouldn't have been too late.  (I'm glad to hear that your dad realizes that you can organize and run things.  I never doubted it, and I never doubted that he knew it, but I'm really glad he told you that.)  I don't think you would be trying to start at 7, more like 9.  BTW I'm not blushing, just really looking forward to sleeping in with you in the future. :-) 

Your mom kicked April and me out after breakfast (she also apologized for ordering me around in my own house, but hey, she and Carla volunteered to do the dishes so I was fine with that). April and I kind of slow walked down to the barn.  It's been a busy couple of weeks, and we had some stuff to catch up on.  

We talked about Mikey and how excited we both are for him.  It's been 3 or 4 days so I think it's going to stick this time.  I was sad when he decided not to go last year, but I also get wanting a break from school before plunging ahead for almost another decade.  All I did was a 2-year Master's program and I'm glad I had a year off.  It's been his dream/calling since our mom first got sick.  But he's definitely going to med school this fall, I'm not letting him back out this time.

So, with our leisurely stroll down to the barn, we almost ended up missing Doc Hansen.  He'd had time to check all the mares (Tony had been "making introductions" all week and noting interests so this really was the last thing that needed to be done before getting started). Turns out Doc Hansen had been monitoring like 18 - 20 mares and the 7 was an estimate he gave your dad earlier in the week.  (I'm sure you understood that he was playing the odds and it's just city girl me who is always finding out that I do not understand nearly as much as I think I do about what goes on around here.)  

So, turns out that there are 6 Green Ranch mares (not 7) plus the 2 from the Sharpes that they are hoping to get to today.  I didn't tell your dad that you'd said running 5 live covers in a day was a lot, but luckily Doc Hansen gave him the list in priority order and suggested that 3 of the mares (2 of ours, 1 of the Sharpes) would probably be "more successful" if he waited at least until tomorrow.  For the Sharpes' mare he actually said that they might want to wait until Monday or Tuesday.  Your dad was pretty clear that Monday was out but said that maybe he and Eric could handle one live cover on Tuesday morning if Rich and Tony were also available.  So, Doc Hansen is coming out tomorrow, too, to make his recommendation on whether they should just do our 2 or all 3 horses.   

Doc Hansen also said the he'd keep monitoring the other mares and let your dad know on Thursday how many mares he'd likely have for next Saturday.  Doc Hansen thinks there will be 3 or 4, including Callisto.  Your dad didn't think she was old enough, but she's 4 now, and if there is one thing I remember from what you've taught me about equine breeding it is that you start breeding mares at 3.  I said that she was old enough but that she hasn't been bred yet, and I didn't know why. 

Then, everyone's looking at me and no one actually said this, but the question clearly was "So, Heather, aren't you ready to breed your horse?"  I don't know the answer to that question without at least running it by you.  Which is what I told them.  I've never really thought about it.  So, again I'm going to claim "city girl" and let you decide.  Plus, I know Gramps gave her to me, but she's technically owned by the ranch.  So, you, your dad, and Eric should really be making this decision, not me.  Even April when I asked her said it was probably time, but that I should ask you because Callie's a maiden mare.  I almost called you right then even though I knew you were still working.  April seemed to be implying that, maybe, your dad shouldn't be getting so ambitious?  

April and I hung around for the first "event": Aphrodite and Ganymede.  Your dad kind of announced to us all that it was Ganymede's first time (but I guess you don't call a stallion a "maiden") and that "we're going to take it slow".    You dad handed me the clipboard and asked if I minded playing recorder which really is the only job I am qualified for in that situation (especially since everyone got so serious about it being Ganymede's first time.  What do you call a stallion that hasn't been bred before anyway?).  I told your dad that's what you have me do too (write down what you tell me to), so he didn't have to feel bad about it.  It honestly wasn't weird except that Aphrodite is 12 and Ganymede is 4 (born on the Ides of March, 2 days before Callie who shares Stanley's birthday).  They're horses so I shouldn't even think about these things.  It's not like it's a lifetime commitment, right?  (It's barely a 10-minute encounter.)  And, it's not strange to breed a stallion to a mare 3 times his age, right?  But still, I thought about these things.  

So, they both got scrubbed down and prepped. Eric and Stanley took Ganymede, Eddie and Tom took Aphrodite.  Everyone was very excited to hear that Aphrodite peed right on cue before they even started to wash her.  Then they brought them near each other and she peed again and Ganymede was clearly interested. 

It was good Rich was there. Your dad admitted it had been decades (his word) since he'd been involved in a horse's first time (I still need a more specific word for this).  Rich at least had more recent experience.  He seemed concerned mostly that Ganymede wouldn't know how to mount.  (Yes, I am/was blushing.  But you asked for a report so I will persevere.)  He described a couple of ways it could go wrong and pointed out that if Ganymede panicked and bit Aphrodite then they'd have to scratch him and maybe her.  He said he'd heard about stallions trying to mount from the side.  That didn't sound good.  (Really blushing by this point.)  But then he says, "Most stallions figure it out pretty quickly, given the reward".  (Yep, still bright red.)  So, they put Tony and the teenagers with Aphrodite, and then Rich, Eric and Stanley took charge of Ganymede and somehow it worked.  April was throwing out tips and cheering them all on.  Then Ganymede got his flehmen response expression and Aphrodite was still basically calm (a few whinnies, but I guess she knows the routine) and Eric shouted "good mount" (and I turned purple at this point because, sorry, everyone should have been embarrassed at that).  And it was all over in a couple of minutes.  

The kicker is that apparently my blushing was super distracting to Tom and even to Eddie.  So, your dad suggested that maybe I not hang around for the next one.  I got kicked out of a breeding event because the discussion of how to teach a stallion to breed was a little too much for me, and apparently also for the teenage boys (who should have been taking care of Aphrodite, not worrying about me) who saw me react.  I'm such an amateur.

April and I went back to the house.  Everyone came up for lunch about 12:15. They decided to leave Ganymede basking in his afterglow and did the second cover with Agamemnon and Aurora.  They headed back down (April included, but I told her to go) after lunch and I came upstairs to check my email.  I knew I would have something from you, and frankly I needed some alone time.  So sorry I can't give a more fulsome/eyewitness account of the subsequent "events".  

Anyway, that is basically my whole day so far. I know they are going to try and push through and do 3 more today, so they'll all be here a while.  I may go over the St. Elizabeth's for the 5:30 Mass.  Then I can sleep in tomorrow without worry.  Your mom says she has to be in church tomorrow, and your dad said they can make coffee down in the tack room so they don't need to use the kitchen tomorrow (I'm really starting to think he's afraid to deal with the alarm on his own) so I am going to take advantage of that and sleep in for real.  

I love your mom and Carla's very nice but I'm not sure I want to spend the next 3 or 4 hours just listening to their conversation and trying to fit into it somehow. I've gone down twice (I desperately need to do laundry) and they are having a good time without me but they're always so nice as I make my way through and very apologetic about being in my way.

Your mom told me that she needed another tutorial on the lineage software and then Carla offered to show her too.  It's one thing I can actually do at the ranch/for the ranch.  Especially now that I can't even be trusted to play recorder in the breeding shed. :-(  Anyway, Gramps and I spent a whole week of evenings learning how to use that software.  I read the manual and then I taught it to him – kind of in my wheelhouse, right?  

So, I still said I'd be home early on Monday.  Even with needing to turn the signed contract in, I should be fine.  No one stays late the last week of school, including Sandy (still typed Mrs. McVeigh first) and me.  Sandy even tells Mrs. Crenshaw to take off as soon as 4 o'clock hits.  And she only has to stay that long because the official hours of the school office are 7 to 4.

Oh, and the favor your mom is doing for you on Monday wouldn't have anything to do with my birthday, would it?  It's sweet of her to assist you with whatever you are up to, but really all I need is some of your time – to spend some time together (even by Skype).  That's what I miss the most.

Maybe I should have asked April if she wanted to go riding, but I didn't want to distract any of the breeding crew (is that the right term?) and I figured that would do it, even though we would have been going to the mares' barn to get Callie and Arabella.  I tried to talk to Tom and Eddie at lunch and it was awkward, particularly with Eddie.  I mean, until he got his license, I gave him a ride to school most days.  It's not like we don't have a history of having perfectly normal conversation.  But so not happening today.  They were both pretty blushy themselves.

Maybe it's just that suddenly there's been a house/ranch full of people all day and none of them are you.  I can be social and polite but at some point, it just becomes a bunch of people invading our space. :-(  Though, really, what right do I have to even think that way?  It's the Green Ranch and it belongs to your parents and Eric as much as/more than it does to me.  They all have way more history here than I do.  Stanley and April have a longer claim than me.

OK I need to stop obsessing over this now.  It's just a thing that happened, right?

I'm glad you're in for the Recluse Pirate Greens family costume. No makeup, I swear.  (Though you're sure you don't want Jack Sparrow's eyeliner look?  KIDDING!!)  The presidential report assignment was probably 5th grade.  Given all that you still remember I would have given you an A. :-)

And even though I know it's not apparent from this email, I really will be glad to have your mom around when we have kids.  Maybe not if she moves in for years, but definitely I would want to call on all that Mom Wisdom.  (And probably she's the first person I'll be comfortable with having babysit.  Her or April.)

I miss you, too.  And I love you to pieces (which doesn't sound so good does it?  Why would I want you in pieces?)  

 

Love you,

 

Heather

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From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Sat Jun 03 15:21 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: I wanted to change it but ... no ideas

Attachments: 

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Agent Green,

This is really dumb, but I've been thinking about it for a bit.  And then you addressed your latest email to me as "Mrs. Green" and I keep calling you "Agent Green".  Do you remember the TV show, "Scarecrow and Mrs. King"?  Suddenly I think we could be a re-make of that.  You don't have a code name though.  How about Cowboy and Mrs. Green?  

Also, it suddenly occurs to me that I don't know what order you read your email in.  Or if you read it in the same order every time.  Do you check this account or your personal account first?  Or, do you bop (and I know you would never "bop") back and forth between the 2?  The only reason I care is because I just sent you a very long email to your other account so if anything in here seems weird that's why.  And I did my best to drop the Mikey goes to med school mention in there and I made up a whole story about him not going last year that you'll know is a lie, but also a plausible explanation for why I hadn't mentioned it before.  I hope that was good enough.

I love the idea of a post pre-nup re-signing ceremony reception.  I will absolutely make peanut butter cookies for that!

I'm also going to hold you to 3 Saturdays of pancakes, mister.  That sounds like heaven. 

Thanks for one last pep talk on the "promotion".  I've signed the contract and I will drop it off on Monday.  I will even try and go by before school.

I'm going to call my dad after I get back from Mass. (I decided to go to tonight's Mass which you already know if you've read my other email.  Too much to get into again, but I kind of want to get out of the house, and this way I've checked the go to church box for the week-ish and then I can be home alone all morning and most of the afternoon tomorrow if someone who loves me wants to maybe give me a call, OK?)  

If I'm remembering Mikey's schedule correctly, he's worked all day today, so I can't call him until like 10 or 10:30 tonight.  He'll still be up because he's just like you, takes him a couple of hours to wind down.  That's probably me too.  (Though remember back when you were going to Denver and I was home and we'd talk for hours and you'd have to tell me to hang up because I kept falling asleep on the phone?)  Anyway, I'll call him tonight, late, and then I'll email everyone else. Happy?

>> You're my favorite person in the universe.  All of them.

And you don't know how much I needed that today, Jake.  You're my favorite person, too.  In every universe.  (The other stuff you said about being married was pretty wonderful, too.)

 

Love, love, love you!

 

Heather

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From: Gail Green 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:26 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Jake, 

I will be waiting tomorrow morning in the den with my cell phone for your call.  I think this is a sweet gesture, to send a handwritten note, and I'm sure Heather will be thrilled to get it, even though she'll realize that you had to fax it.  And your secret of the 4 calls is safe with me.  

You were right about how much your father and crew could accomplish in one day, so they're all going out again tomorrow to do 2 or 3 more.  I reminded them all that they need to finish by 1 or 2 at the latest so as to make Heather's family birthday dinner on time.  She had already left for Mass by then, so April and I read them the riot act (about being on time tomorrow and some other things).  We need everyone at dinner by 5:30 so we can do the conference call with the Lisinskis.

I'm sure you heard about what happened this morning from Heather.  After lunch, she said she was going upstairs to sort her laundry and check her email, and I think to just get away from all of us interlopers.  I'm sure she sent you all the gory details.  (I don't actually know them all, but Heather, April and your dad all said enough that I have an idea of what happened.)   She might have even called you, for all I know.  I certainly wouldn't blame her for that.  

I'm not going to defend your dad, and I don't think he's going to defend himself either.  Certainly, Heather didn't deserve to find herself in the middle of such a dust up.  And let me just say, I'm glad you and Eric are grown men and I don't have to regularly deal with teenage boy brains and hormones anymore.  Today was quite enough for me, for the next decade at the very least.  

I do still occasionally get a visit from Dale, but he seems willing to slip back into being the little boy I can give cookies and milk to, and we just sit and talk about school and his work at the market.  So, he's my easy teenager.

I didn't even do any of the hard work today and I'm beat.  I think I'm going to go get ready for bed.  I'll talk to you in the morning.  I'm looking forward to it.  I don't begrudge Heather any of the phone calls the two of you get, but I am looking forward to talking to you myself, honey.

 

Love Mom

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From: Heather Green (home) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:34 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Follow up on the Breeding Report

Attachments: 

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Hi Jake,

Take my earlier mini rant with a grain of salt, OK?  Or just as a moment in time when I was feeling a little hurt, a little out of sorts.  I'm feeling a lot better now with some time/distance from the "event".

I went to the 5:30 Mass and it was exactly what I needed.  Father Reynaldo stopped me as I was leaving and held onto my hand and it was like he could see right through me – that he just knew I was having a bad day.  So, he pulled me over a few feet because there were a few older ladies also waiting to talk to him.  It was nice that he took the time and tried to give me some privacy.  He was still holding onto my hand, it was very comforting, and we got to talk quietly for a few minutes.  

He asked about you, and if you were still overseas.  When I told him yes, he was so empathetic (which I always find amazing in the priests that can manage that, given the vow of celibacy and everything) and told me that he was sure that our separation was difficult for you too, but that "Your marriage will be stronger for this season in which, because of the physical separation, you can concentrate on communication.  You have the opportunity to go back to the beginning and get to know one another again, or maybe simply better."  (I may not be quoting him exactly but I feel like I am.  I could feel the words burning into my brain.)

I decided to really take that to heart.  I mean, I don't think we ever told him about how we used to talk on the phone for hours when we were first dating and you were working out of town, but that's how I think I need to look at this.  You're farther away and the time difference is an actual difference.  I know we're not going to be having 3 or 4 hour phone conversations.  But we still get to talk, and we have email.  And I really, really want my birthday Skype.  Seriously the only present I need.

So, before I left the church, I lit a candle (I'm usually not that kind of Catholic :-) ) and said a prayer for you and for us.  That definitely made me feel better.  Then as I was leaving, the deacon who was checking/restocking the literature rack stops me to ask if I need anything (a NFP brochure in hand) then asks me if I'm Johnston and Gail Green's daughter-in-law (so I'm back to thinking way more people know who I am than really should).  I said that I was, and it turned out she and your mom went to high school and nursing school together in Rogue River.  So, she gave me her name and made me promise to pass her regards onto your mom.  And she didn't even try to offer me the pamphlet (which is what I thought I was being stopped for).

I decided to go straight home, because I figured they would be all done and gone by the time I got back since it was after 6:30.  And, everyone was gone except your parents who were sitting on the porch swing waiting for me.  It was a little odd (why didn't they just stay in the house?) but also kind of adorable.  They both looked tired, but they were swinging slightly, talking (maybe) and holding hands, and I want us to be sitting on the swing holding hands and chatting (if we feel like it) when we've been married (almost) 40 years, OK?

Your mom wanted to confirm the dinner menu for my pre-birthday dinner tomorrow (yes, I really do want sausage lasagna on Sunday AND I still want to go to Roma Italia on Tuesday) and then your dad apologized for kicking me out this morning.  He said that he wasn't as good at handling teenagers as he used to be.  Then he snorted and said that when I told you he'd said that, you'd say he was never that good in the first place, so he must be pretty miserable at it now.  But he was sorry, and said that he wasn't blaming me for anything that happened, and that he only did it because he wanted to keep from having the whole day derail. Then he admitted that he'd been unfair to put that on me "in the name of expediency".  I accepted his apology and I even gave him a hug.  I told him he can use the kitchen tomorrow if he wants but he turned me down (and your mother gave me quite the eye roll, but she was standing next to him and just a smidge behind so he didn't see).

Anyway, all's well that ends well, right?  

And before you start thinking "Wow, Heather went to church and now she's so, preternaturally, saintly good" (yes, I wanted to use preternaturally in a sentence even if it isn't exactly the right word) just know that I had 4 deviled eggs (well halves, so 2 total eggs) and 3 different kinds of sugary cereal (all mixed together – it looked gross, and tasted great, and you would have been so impressed) for dinner and then made myself pistachio pudding for dessert.  Plus, I gave Baron 5 of those peanut butter dog treats you found for him at the feed store so now he's on the bed, breathing peanut butter dog breath at me.  Just another Saturday night on the Green Ranch. :-)

 

Love you,

Heather

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From: Johnston Green (personal) 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 20:47 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Jake,

I'm sure that you've heard all about what happened today during Ganymede's inaugural breed.  I know that it hurt Heather when I asked her to leave, and I am very sorry about that.  I said that I would have liked to have you here to organize us, and I was really feeling that in that moment.  You probably would have thought better of pairing the 2 teenagers together. (I separated them after the incident, but that was closing the barn door after the horses were gone, so to speak.)  I'm sure you would have sensed what was coming and had something to say that would have nipped it in the bud.  It would have been sarcastic and obnoxious and probably would have grated on my nerves, but things would have gone a little less sideways.  

I apologized to Heather and she accepted, but I still feel awful about how everything went.

You were right about the number of live covers we could do in a day.  Ganymede being inexperienced didn't help, though he does seem to understand what is being asked of him.  We used him for the last of the day as well, with Thalia.  So, it was Ganymede bred to Aphrodite and Thalia, and Agamemnon bred to Aurora, Clio, and the Sharpe's mare, Mathilda.

Doc Hansen is coming out to check the other mares tomorrow and we'll either do 2 or 3 more.  I'll talk it over with him and see if we should wait 2 weeks or 3 before going again with a less ambitious slate.  Rich Sharpe also (thankfully) says after this week that he'll just send 3 stable hands over to help out from here on out.  The Sharpes run six, week-long horse day camps starting on the 12th, skipping 4th of July week, so he needs to be onsite for those, and he's having Tom work them as well.  

I'm not sure that Heather will be amused by my email regarding the Roman Emperors, especially after today.  But if you want to share it with her, feel free.  And you boys were 5 and a half, didn't even start Kindergarten until a few weeks later.

After today, if I'm allowed to tell my grandchildren stories, bedtime or otherwise, I promise to use some discretion and stick to tales suitable for children.  

 

Dad

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From: April Green 'AGreenDoc' 

Sent: Sat Jun 03 21:06 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA) 

Subject: RE: Favor

Attachments: 

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Jake,

Effusive enough for sure.  You pass.

You might want to tell Heather that (word for word) next time you talk to her. She had a rough day today.  I'm sure you've heard all about it from her and from Mom.  She called me a little bit ago to tell me she's feeling better thanks to her trip to Mass, but still.  She was so embarrassed and none of it was her fault.  I was even more to blame than Heather, and I am not taking the blame for a couple of teenage boys with sex on the brain.  That's just human development in all its glory (and not so glory).

Now you've freaked Eric out by emailing him from your work account.  I guess it never occurred to him that you have one?  He asked me if I knew you had a DEA email account and were called "Agent Green" and I played it so cool and said of course I've known that forever, and you email me from it all the time.  Got to keep your brother on his toes after all.

Though, honestly, he's toast after today (been a while since he did that much physical labor) and he still has to go back tomorrow.  He's sacked out already snoring like a sawmill (I've never been in a sawmill, but I assume that's what it sounds like).  Really should have been more insistent about getting that taken care of.  But you know the old saying, bakers' children have no bread, cobblers' kids go barefoot, and doctors' husbands never get their deviated septums corrected.

Eric felt bad about what happened with Heather, and so did Stanley.  He didn't say a thing to Heather about any of it during lunch, and that kind of teasing is Stanley's bread and butter, especially with her.  All he did was give her a hug and sit next to her at lunch like he was her bodyguard.  He glared (glowered really, there's a fancy word for you) at the boys the whole time too.  Tonight, when we said goodbye, he told me he was glad that he'd left Bonnie at the farm to run the stand.  And I think there are 2 more teenage boys that are definitely on his no-fly list.  Soon, there won't be a boy left in the county that Stanley will even consider considering good enough for his baby sister.

Heather also said that she called Joe and told him about the vice principal appointment, and that she's calling Mikey later tonight. So, it sounds like this will be a safe topic of conversation tomorrow after all.  I didn't have time to warn anyone but Eric tonight after we got home, and I've already unwarned him. 

So, I'm going to meet Mom at church in the morning, then we're going to McBee's for lunch and to pick up Heather's cake, and then we'll go get everything ready for her birthday dinner.  (Heather has told me multiple times that this isn't a party.)  We'll do our best.  Though really, she just wants a Skype call with you.  So, you do your best, too, OK?

Love,

April

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From: Mike Lisinski  

Sent: Sat Jun 03 23:41 (UTC-4)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Congratulations Man

Attachments: 

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Jake,

You are not allowed to talk or brag about the sex you have with my sister, or predict when your next opportunity to have sex with my sister will occur.  Got it?  These are the amended terms under which we can still be friends.

And I know where babies come from.  But be careful or I'm going to teach yours that they came out of the cabbage patch or were dropped off by the stork.  (Do they have storks in KS?)  Aunt Heidi gave me a picture book about "where babies come from" when I was a kid, and it used the analogy of a chicken egg and a tadpole, and I'll just admit it, I cried.  It was such a weird thought to put in a kid's head.  

Only time I ever saw my mom really mad at one of her sisters.  She smacked her with the book, it was crazy.  So, what I'm saying is, what you tell little kids makes an impression.  Don't force my hand.

Just got off the phone with Heth.  Very cool that she gets to be vice principal.  Very uncool that they're not going to pay her for it.  I hope you have something really nice planned for her birthday.  She sounded less down than the last time we talked and she didn't tell me to go to bed which was good. (But also, what did she do with my sister?)  She's really looking forward to your Skype call.  Any way you could do 2 of them?  

 

Mike

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To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 4.

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

All of Heather's research into popular names was conducted on the Social Security Administration's website.  They have name information going back decades based on applications for new Social Security cards/numbers (for babies).  

The Roman Emperors Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero were all from the Julio-Claudian dynasty that ruled the Roman Empire from 27 BCE to 68 CE.  Tiberius was the 2nd emperor to rule, having succeeded his stepfather, former father-in-law, and adoptive father, Emperor Augustus.  Caligula succeeded Tiberius, who was rumored to have been murdered by being smothered in his bed at Caligula's behest (though probably he just died of natural causes).  Caligula was the grandnephew and adopted son of Tiberius and the great-grandson of Augustus.  Caligula ruled for less than 4 years and was assassinated at age 28.  He was considered insane and was described as self-absorbed, short-tempered, a man who killed on a whim, and indulged in too much spending and sex.  He was murdered in a conspiracy involving the Praetorian Guard and members of the Roman Senate.  Caligula was succeeded by his uncle Claudius, who ruled for 13 and a half years, before probably being poisoned by his wife in favor of her son, Nero.  Nero was Claudius' grandnephew, stepson, son-in-law, and adopted son.  Nero was also related to Caligula in multiple ways, but nephew is one way to explain their relationship. Nero ruled for 13 and a half years as well.  After being declared a public enemy by the Roman Senate, he committed suicide at age 30.  He has been described as tyrannical, self-indulgent and debauched.  Although his mother most likely poisoned her husband to pave the way for Nero to become Emperor, he re-paid this favor by having her (and other relatives) murdered.  The popular legend that Nero fiddled while Rome burned is likely a piece of propaganda invented by the next Emperor, but there were also rumors that Nero started the fire because he was staging a play about the burning of Troy (with an actual fire), and was singing about the sacking of Illium (Troy) while Rome burned.  Who knows?  But clearly Johnston is correct when he tells Jake that reading about the Roman Emperors puts any Green family issues into perspective.  And these are definitely interesting (possibly unfortunate) names for horses.

The stallion Agamemnon is named for the figure from Greek mythology, a king who led the Greeks into battle against Troy as described by Homer in The Iliad.  He was considered a good commander-in-chief and was ultimately killed by his wife (or her lover), so he definitely meets a tragic end.  The stallion Odysseus is named for another figure from Greek mythology, the heroic king of Ithaca.  The Homeric poem The Odyssey is about his 10-year journey home from the Trojan War.

The horses named for Shakespearean characters are Romeo (from Romeo and Juliet), Titania (from A Midsummer Night's Dream), and Iago (from Othello). A tragedy, a comedy, a tragedy.  These horses have all shuffled off this mortal coil (from Hamlet, the 'To be or not to be' soliloquy).  Horses live 25 to 30 years on average.

The stallion Jupiter is named after the planet, which is named after the Roman god Jupiter, the king of the gods.  The stallion Ganymede is named for one of the four largest moons circling Jupiter.  In Greek mythology, Ganymede is abducted from Troy to serve as Zeus's cup-bearer in Olympus.  He is described as the most beautiful of mortals.  The mare Callisto is named for another of the four main moons of Jupiter.   In Greek mythology, Callisto is a nymph and a follower of the goddess Artemis.  She attracted the attentions of Zeus, and therefore the fury of Zeus's wife, Hera.  I am sure that Heather knows the mythology, but when she chose these names for the horses born on the Green ranch, she was concentrating on astronomy, not mythology.

The mares named Thalia and Clio are both named after the Olympian Muses from Greek mythology.  The mare Aphrodite is named for the Greek goddess associated with love, lust, beauty, pleasure, passion and procreation.  The mare Aurora is named for the Roman goddess of the dawn.  These horses all pre-date Heather's association with the Green Ranch and were named by Gramps.

Generally, horses, particularly male horses or colts, are physically capable of reproduction as early as 18 months, but are rarely allowed to breed before the age of three, especially females.  Horses four years old or older are considered mature (adult), but the skeleton will often continue to develop through the age of six.  So, Jupiter, Ganymede and Callisto are all of breeding age at this point in the story as they were born and named by Heather during the spring (of 2002) before Jake and Heather married, and at this point in the story, Jake and Heather are approaching their fourth wedding anniversary.

The male parent of a horse is called the 'sire'.  The female parent of a horse is called a 'dam'.  A pregnant horse is said to be 'in foal'.  A horse that gives birth has 'foaled'.  Once a baby horse or 'foal' is born, the 'foal is on the ground' (perhaps because foals walk within minutes of birth).

There are two ways to breed or 'cover' a mare.  When the mare is brought to the stallion's residence and is covered 'live' in the breeding shed that is called 'live cover'.  Live cover allows for a more controlled environment, allowing the breeder to ensure the mare was covered and places the handlers in a position to remove the horses from one another should one attempt to kick or bite the other.  A mare may also be turned out in a pasture with the stallion for several days to breed naturally ('pasture bred') but that is a less controlled scenario.  Horses may also be bred by artificial insemination (AI).  In the United States, thoroughbreds are required to be bred by live cover, but other horses (standardbred) may be bred via artificial insemination as long as the sire is still alive or insemination occurs within the calendar year of his death.  Artificial insemination has some advantages – the horses never come in contact and therefore there is no risk that they injure one another.  EJ Green (at least my version) was pretty old-school, and wasn't ever willing to try AI, so the practice was never adopted on the Green Ranch.  

Heather's description of the equine assisted breeding process is hopefully reasonably accurate.  I've tried to keep it high-level, and to point out the parts that I think an amateur like Heather would note.  Also, the Green Ranch is a horse ranch, but it's not a thoroughbred stud farm, so they would not have the same level of technology as the places that charge $100,000 stud fees.  

Female horses go through an estrous cycle rather than a menstrual cycle.  Estrus is the phase of the estrous cycle in which they are sexually receptive ("in heat") to male horses.  There is also an anestrus phase when the cycle rests, and horses cannot be bred.  Hence, the equine breeding season.

The flehmen response is a behavior in which a horse curls back its upper lip exposing its front teeth, inhales with the nostrils usually closed, and then often holds this position for several seconds.  This behavior facilitates the transfer of pheromones into the vomeronasal organ located above the roof of the mouth via a duct which exits just behind the front teeth of the horse.  Male horses commonly use the flehmen response as a mechanism for identifying the reproductive state of female horses based on pheromones in the female's urine and genitals.  

The Madeline Series is a set of 7 children's picture books by the author Ludwig Bemelmans about a little girl in who lives at a school in Paris. Each story begins with the first line:  "In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines... the smallest one was Madeline."  The first 5 books were all originally published between 1939 and 1961.  Two additional books were written/added to the series after the author's death in 1962, one which had originally been published only in a magazine, and one that was discovered and published posthumously.

Captain Jack Sparrow is a fictional character and the main protagonist of the Pirates of the Caribbean film series. The character was created by screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio and is portrayed by Johnny Depp. The characterization of Sparrow is based on a combination of The Rolling Stones' guitarist Keith Richards and Looney Tunes cartoon character Pepé Le Pew. He first appears in the 2003 film Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. (Which is the only one that Heather and Jake would have seen by the point in time which this story occurs.)

Scarecrow and Mrs. King was an American television series that aired from October 1983 through May 1987 on CBS.  It was produced and distributed by Warner Brothers Television.  The show starred Kate Jackson as divorced housewife Amanda King and Bruce Boxleitner as "Agency" operative Lee Stetson.  The two begin an unusual partnership after encountering one another in a train station.  Eventually they become romantically involved, and finally secretly married.

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Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 4

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 300 pages and six parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.  This is partially an epistolary/letter-writing story (just email rather than snail mail), and there are timestamps on all emails.  Just remember that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so if you are looking at the timestamps and something seems out of order, it probably isn't, as our favorite couple is definitely living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.

 

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

Sunday June 4, 5:33 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Sunday June 4, 9:33 am (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

 

"Hi, Mom," Jake greeted as his mother answered her cell on the first ring, more than seven thousand miles away.  "Mornin'."

"Jake, sweetheart, it's so nice to hear your voice," Gail Green sighed, feeling tears threatening behind her eyes.  She blinked hard, pushing them away.  "And I believe it's evening for you.  So good evening."

"Yeah," he agreed, and she could hear the shrug in his tone.  "But it's still a million degrees outside, so hard to tell for sure sometimes."

Gail made a sympathetic noise.  "As hot as your wedding weekend?"

"Mo-om!"

"What?  You – I was speaking of the weather, Jake," she huffed a moment later.

"And you almost 'young man'-ed me," he accused.  "I could hear you thinkin' it.  Been awhile since I've gotten one of those."

"Since you got married at least," she returned pointedly.  

"Well, I'm Heather's problem now, right?"  She clicked her tongue at him, but otherwise didn't respond.  "And, it's hotter than that, probably," Jake allowed.  "Than the weather was on the weekend I got married.  All the time.  But it's okay, Mom, promise.  It's not forever, right?  And Kansas in July and August will be a breeze after this."

"You'll be like your father," she suggested, laughing softly.  "The only one who gets any sleep during a heatwave."

"Maybe, yeah," he chuckled.  "Now there'll be two of us."

"Honey," she began then, her tone turning serious. "I want to – I just want to tell you in person – or I guess, more in person than just email – how sorry I am about yesterday.  That was just an unfortunate confluence of events."

"What?  What happened, Mom?" Jake returned, his voice deepening with a frown that she could clearly picture in her mind's eye.  "I don't – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Heather didn't call you?" she asked, surprised, "Or email?"

"If she called, she didn't leave a message," Jake answered before holding his phone away from his ear so he could double check for the voicemail indicator.  There wasn't one.  "And I haven't had time to check my email yet today," he admitted a few seconds later.  "Just came off shift." 

"You worked today?  But it's Sunday," Gail protested. It was clear she didn't approve.

Jake allowed a mostly silent groan.  He hadn't meant to tell her that.  But he'd forgotten that it was Sunday, even while he'd known that he had to catch his mother before she left for church.  It was just another sign that his head wasn't completely in the game, and that he needed to do something about that.  "Yeah, I worked today," he returned, his tone flat.  "I work every day, Ma.  It's why I'm here, right?"  The clerk who was waiting to allow him to use the fax machine in the dispatch office stared at him, obviously trying to figure out what was happening on the other end of the conversation.  "I'd rather work than not have anything to do all day," he insisted.  "Makes the day go faster." 

"Well, I suppose so," Gail said sounding skeptical.  Jake was half-surprised she didn't ask what he'd done with her son. 

"Really.  And, I know that doesn't sound like me," he acknowledged, "But the more I work, the sooner I can come home, right?  But what happened?  All right if I send this fax?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, honey," Gail replied, flustered.  Hurriedly, she plugged the phone line into the fax machine.  "All ready to go on this end."

She heard him ask someone if it was okay for him to dial, and the muffled voice of another man grunting, "Sure".

"Mom, what happened?" Jake repeated, the slightest note of apprehension ringing in his tone.

"There was just a little misunderstanding yesterday with the – the breeding," she decided after a moment's hesitation.  "Your father decided to start off with Ganymede—"

"It didn't go so well, huh?" Jake groaned.  "I was thinkin' about it this morning, and I realized that it's been a long time since Dad was involved, and asking him to take on an unproven stallion wasn't a great idea."

"Well, they were able to breed him," his mother countered.  "Twice.  But Heather was there and – through no fault of her own – she ended up in an embarrassing situation."

Jake pulled the phone away from his ear, checking once again for the voicemail indicator.  Still nothing.  "Mom, what happened?" he demanded, fitting the phone back against his ear.

"I wasn't there, Jake," Gail sighed. "So, all I know is what Heather, April and your father told me.  You should read your email and call Heather," she advised.  "It's her story to tell."

"Okay, well then I need to send this to you," he reasoned, exhaling a frustrated breath.  "So, I can go read my email," he decided.  "Look, Mom, you can read the note, 'cause it'd be hard not to.  But don't – don't overreact," he ordered.

"Well, really, Jake," she complained.  "If you don't want me to see it – if – if it's too private, or you think I'm going to be shocked or something, I just won't read it."

"It's not like that," he countered.  "I mean, it's sorta private.  But it's not shocking – not bad.   It's not something that you can't read.  It's just – you need to be calm, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. To her mother's ear he sounded almost nervous, reminding her for some reason of the morning before his wedding, how his mood had changed one moment to the next.  He'd told her to be calm that morning too, even though he'd been the one with a case of the jitters.  "I'll be calm."

"Thanks," he said, exhaling deeply.  "It's just – I don't want – I want Heather to get the note on her birthday.  Even though it's not a present.  The flowers are a present, but the note's not.  The note is just a note," Jake declared.  "So, you hafta act normal around her, at least until she gets it.  I mean, she'll probably like it better if you tell her you took it to the florists, so she'll know that they didn't read it.  But you have to be normal – you can't be excited 'til after she gets it.  Okay, Mom?"

"Got it," Gail returned crisply.  "No being excited until Tuesday – or Wednesday, even."

"I'm gonna hit send, okay?"  He pushed the transmit button, and watched as the machine began to pull in the first page.  "It's three pages."

"You could've sent it to April, if you didn't want me to see," his mother said a few seconds later.  "She told me what she's doing for you on Tuesday, and I told her about picking up the Kahlua cake tomorrow," she explained, "I hope that's okay." 

"I wasn't trying to make you and April keep secrets from each other, just from Heather, and just 'til her birthday," he clarified.  "That's just so she has a good birthday, some fun surprises.  Since I'm not there."  The fax machine began to pull in the second page.  "And I didn't think I should send this through April.  And you can read the note," he reminded, "Just don't get all ex—"

"—excited, yes I know," Gail acknowledged softly.  "I'm sure she'll love everything, sweetheart.  But you do know that what Heather is most looking forward to is your Skype call."  In the background he could hear the electronic whine of the transmission coming in over his parents' old fax machine.  "It's coming through now," his mother announced.

"Good.  And, yeah, she keeps telling me she wants to look at me," he grumbled.

Gail, though, clearly saw through this faux complaint.  "And you love that," she informed him. 

"I wanna see her too," he conceded.  "Even if it's just on my computer screen."

"Cover page is here.  And, page two, but it's just her name and a picture?"  Jake could hear the amusement in his mother's voice.  "It's a lovely drawing, sweetheart," Gail added, her eyes tracing over the painstakingly rendered airplane towing a banner that proclaimed 'Happy Birthday Babe!'

"Yeah, well, I thought you could cut it out and tape it on the envelope," he explained, "So, then she'd know it was from me.  Right off the bat."

"Well then, I will do that," Gail promised. 

They both fell silent, and then the machine on his end emitted a loud, final beep indicating a successful transmission.   Quickly, he hit the status button to print the transmission report.  "So, it's there right, it came through?  You can read it?"

"Oh my, Jake," his mother breathed.  "Yes, I can read it."

"Great, thanks," he replied distractedly before pressing the 'clear' button to delete his fax from the Ravenwood machine's memory. 

"Though wait, I'm not sure the last part came through quite right," she said then.  "At the end, here, it looks like you wrote 'pre-nup' and I know you don't have that," Gail scoffed.  "I remember how irate your grandfather was that they suggested it."

"I was pissed, too, Mom," Jake reminded.  "That was the thing that freaked Heather out the most.  And then she started arguing that we should have one."

 

* * * * * *

 

It had been his grandfather's idea that Jake meet with Ben Gunnison about two months before their wedding – and Gramps's idea, too, that Jake take Heather along to the meeting because, as he'd said, she deserved to know exactly what it was she was marrying into.  Gramps had already informed Jake that he was removing all remaining restrictions from his trust fund.  "As a married man, you should have control of your own money," he'd informed his grandson.  "And I did the same thing for Eric last year." 

Jake had long avoided most meetings with the family attorneys, but he'd remembered Ben from Little League (not the best player, but a decent right fielder) and they had met previously without it being awful.   Aware that Heather was uncomfortable with the Green family money, he'd figured that maybe going through everything in a professional setting would make things easier for her.  But it hadn't quite worked out that way.

On their own, they had already agreed that Heather would be in charge of their personal finances – "You like balancing your checkbook.  You actually know where your checkbook is," he'd pointed out – with a goal of keeping them solvent, but had otherwise avoided talking too much and too often about money.  She'd done her taxes in March, showing them to him, and had asked when he was planning to do his own.  She hadn't liked his answer – that since he was sixteen and had gotten his first job working for Mags at The Pizza Garden, he'd handed his tax documents over to the family law firm by the beginning of April, but that they'd never had him come in before about mid-August to let him know how things had turned out – and her frown had only deepened when he'd shrugged and said that this was the last time she'd need to prepare her own taxes.  To say it had been a touchy subject was a major understatement. 

But still, Jake had walked Heather into the Gunnison & Gunnison offices late in the afternoon on the second Thursday in May, unaware of exactly how unnerved his fiancée was by the difference in their financial statuses.  Ben – who Jake had met with quietly (in street clothes, at the truck stop, around ten o'clock on a Tuesday night) some thirteen months previously to hand over his federal employee W-2 under the assurance of attorney-client privilege – had taken them through a litany of financial statements, showing them the conditions of a number of holdings that, it had turned out, were in Jake's name.  Heather's eyes had grown wider with each file that Jake had passed onto her, until finally, Ben had handed Jake the folder associated with the main trust fund his grandparents had established when he was baby.  "Technically, until you're married, your grandfather has to sign off on any withdrawals from this account, including interest disbursements," Ben had informed him, "But really as soon as the ceremony is complete, you can access it.  I assume you're going on a honeymoon, so practically speaking, I'll make sure you have full access before you return." 

Jake had checked the figure in the folder.  It had been basically what his grandfather had mentioned to him the week before, and taking a deep breath, he'd passed the folder to Heather.  "Just so you know, I didn't know he was going to do this when I asked you to marry me.  I'm not using you to get to the money, is all I'm sayin', babe," he'd joked weakly.

"The green flag – oh that's funny, I didn't even think of that – the green flag, for the Jake Green trust account," Ben had chuckled at the coincidence.  "The green flag shows the interest income you can likely expect this year on this account."

Risking a glance at his fiancée, Jake had hoped to at least see a hint of a smile at Ben's 'green joke', but if she'd heard him, it hadn't registered in her expression.  Heather had simply stared at the paperwork in the folder, her concentration seemingly focused on the location of the green tape flag and that ridiculous number, frown firmly fixed on her mouth.  "This – this is crazy, Jake," she had murmured finally, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

For his part, Ben had prattled on.  "You'll always have access to the principal, and we don't have to cut you a check for all of the interest either.  Up to you how you manage your money, of course. Once you're married, anyway.  So, take it if you need it, but otherwise reinvest is what I would recommend.  But that's the estimated interest that should be available by end of year, dependent on market fluctuation of course."

"This is crazy," she'd repeated, more loudly, her eyes wide and bright, her grimace growing.  "I knew – I figured – guessed – your parents and Gramps," she'd sighed, shaking her head as if to clear it.  "But this – this is crazy."

"It's just money, Heather," he'd returned, realizing immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Says the guy who's always had it," she'd retorted, her pitch rising to a squeaky register that – to Jake – had signaled danger.  She'd looked at the attorney then.  "Mr. Gunnison, there's something we should do, right?  Like – like a pre-nuptial agreement, right?  We should have a pre-nuptial agreement," she had reiterated, nodding to herself.  Heather had flashed Jake a shaky smile before returning her attention to Ben.  "And you can put that together, Mr. Gunnison."  She had glanced back at her fiancé.  "That – that's why you wanted me to come," Heather had declared, sounding oddly pleased.  "I – I get it."

"No!" Jake had objected immediately.  "No way, we're not doing that.  And that's not why I had you come here."

"This is the sort of situation where a pre-marital contract is often helpful," Ben had offered hesitantly.  "And I did take the liberty to prepare—"

"No," Jake had declared again.  "We’re not doin' that."  He'd glanced at the attorney.  "Sorry you wasted your time," he'd thrown out, sounding anything but apologetic.  "But we're just gonna skip that part of the consultation, okay?"

"Of course," Ben acknowledged.

"But Jake, your family – I'm sure it would make them more—"

"No, it wouldn't," he'd interrupted her, shaking his head and chuckling derisively.  "You know that – you know them better than that.  Trust me, the last—"  Jake had broken off, turning his gaze to the attorney once again.  "Ben.  Do you think we could have a moment."

Already halfway out of his chair, Ben had nodded his vigorous agreement.  "Of course.  And, I'm sorry," he'd blurted out before fleeing his office.

Jake had reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his own.  "You – I brought you here so you'd know this stuff.  Not – not for a pre-nup.  I don't – I don't need or want a pre-nup, okay?  My family doesn’t – if we did that, Gramps would wait for us to get married, murder me, and then switch all the accounts to your name," he'd predicted.  "So, see?  Not having a pre-nup actually protects me."

Still, she hadn't cracked a smile.  "Look, babe," he muttered, "If this – if the money – if it's really a problem then – look, we'll just ignore it, okay?  We can just ignore it," Jake had declared.  Wide-eyed, Heather had chewed her lip, nodding slowly.  "And then," he'd added, exhaling in relief, "Our kids will be really surprised when they inherit a lot of money."    

"I just – I don't want anyone thinking I'm marrying you for money," she'd told him, whispering.  "I know – I hope you know that, but I don't want anyone thinking that."

"I know that.  And no one who knows you – no one who matters – is ever gonna think that, babe," he'd assured her.  "I know why you're marrying me, and I know it's not for money, okay?"

She'd nodded and squeezed his fingers then, but she had still looked so apprehensive that Jake had given into the impulse to raise Gramps on the radio channel of his cell phone.  Jake only had to utter "pre-nup" before EJ Green – clearly angry – had cut him off.  Gramps had apologized first to Heather, then to Jake, and had declared that he would handle it.  Ten minutes later, Ben Gunnison had knocked on his own office door, before sticking his head in and asking, haltingly, if it would be all right to come in.  He'd been followed into the office by his father, and both men had fallen all over themselves apologizing for the misunderstanding. 

They had spent another forty-five minutes at the law office – long enough for Heather to be convinced that she should address Ben by his first name and not as "Mr. Gunnison" – while the attorney had taken them through the remaining complexities of Jake's and the Green family's financial status.    Heather, holding fast to the manila envelope full of documents that Jake and Ben had both insisted she have copies of in one hand, had wrapped her free arm around his as they'd walked back to the car.  She'd still looked rattled to Jake and, once they'd reached the vehicle, he hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her thoroughly before, hugging her tightly, he'd let his head rest on top of hers. 

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how freaked out are you?" he'd asked, pressing a kiss to her hairline. 

"Three," she'd answered, pulling away just enough that she could meet his eye.  She had offered him a wan smile, and he'd taken the opportunity to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.  "Maybe a four.  And a half."

"But nowhere near 'call off the wedding' level, right?" Jake had returned, not quite able to quash the anxious note in his tone.  "Because that'd be like an eleven, right?"

"I'm pretty sure that's like a hundred," Heather had countered. 

"On a scale of one to ten?" he'd chuckled, "I'll take it." 

"I mean, as long as you really aren't marrying me for the money – because you – you'll get access—"

"You know I'm not," he'd argued, scowling.  "Because if I were that kind of asshole, I'd be all over the idea of a pre-nup, right?"

Heather had closed her eyes then, nodding tiredly in agreement.  "No, you're right. I'm sorry I let myself think that, even for a half second."  She'd taken a deep breath and then had blown it out slowly, opening her eyes.  "I love you Jake, and I'm gonna marry you," she'd pledged then.  "But I just – I wasn't expecting this.  All of that.  I mean, I suspected – sort of – like ten percent of," she'd said, waving a hand in the direction of the building they had exited a minute before.  "Just – just because of the ranch.  But none of that had anything to do with the ranch." 

"Well, the ranch is a separate thing," Jake had confirmed, not bothering to elaborate.  She had learned that too, when Ben had informed them of the existence of the EJ Green Family Trust, then provided an overview of its holdings.  "And, nothing to worry about with the ranch as long as Gramps is alive and kickin', right?" 

"Right," she'd agreed, making a frustrated noise.  "It's just – Jake, you literally never worry about how you're gonna pay for anything," she'd complained, shaking her head.  "And I probably should have questioned that, I just never did.  Which now feels really stupid."

"It's not stupid.  You can't be stupid.  You're the smartest person I know," he had reminded, flashing her a quick grin.  "But I have good job, babe.  I get paid."  In March – the first time they'd broached the financial chapters of their two pre-marital counseling workbooks – they had shown each other their paystubs, which was another difference that had shocked Heather – and had induced Jake to declare, not for the first time, that she was seriously underpaid.   

"And I've been living with Gramps.  Don't pay rent.  Drive the car my parents gave me when I was sixteen.  I was undercover for a year," he'd listed.  "So, everything pretty much just went straight into the bank.  I haven't been using any of that," Jake had insisted, gesturing at the manila envelope in her hand.  "Just living off my own savings."  They had stared at one another for a long moment before he had reminded, "We really can just ignore it, okay?  I mean, that's how it got where it got.  Twenty-eight years of compound interest.  I mean, I should probably pay for our honeymoon first, but then we can ignore all of it, if that's what you want."

"Our honeymoon's gonna cost that much?" she'd questioned, eyebrows raised.  "Even the interest was a pretty big number."

"No, not really," he'd conceded, throwing her another testing, lopsided grin. "Just a bad joke.  Promise, babe."

"Well, that's a relief," Heather had sighed.  "And, since I'm assuming your parents have a couple of those magic accounts, too, I think I'm gonna stop arguing with your mom so much about who pays for what for our wedding."

Jake had kissed her chastely then, murmuring, "Good idea," against her mouth.  "And, hey," he'd added, making her take a half step away from the car, "Just be glad I didn't bring you here to let you know I had that much in credit card debt."

"That's really not funny," she had muttered.

"Puts things in perspective, though, right?"

She had made a noncommittal noise, but otherwise hadn't acknowledge the point.  "But Jake, you know, if you wanted a pre-nup, I'd be okay with that," Heather had told him as he'd opened her door.  "I'd almost prefer it." 

"You shouldn't be okay with that – prefer that," he'd argued, squeezing her hand as she'd gotten into the car.  He'd leaned in to kiss her one more time.  "That's like being half assed married," he'd told her, holding her gaze. "That's like saying: 'I love and trust you, just not with money'.  That's not the kinda married I wanna be." 

It had taken a moment, but finally, Heather had nodded.  "Not the kinda of married I want to be either, really," she'd agreed.  "We should be totally, full assed married."

"Exactly," Jake had declared, smirking at her – or at least her word choice – as he'd closed her door.  He'd walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat.  "Pizza?"

They'd arrived at her house an hour later with a still hot pizza, straight from The Pizza Garden's oven, plus a half gallon of milk and a legal pad that Jake had purchased at Gracie's Market.  "Why did you buy that?" Heather had asked, passing her fiancé a slice of pizza on a paper towel and pointing at his legal pad.  "I have paper, Jake.  Lots of it.  I'm a connoisseur of office supplies," she'd joked, smiling at him.  "Remember?"

She'd suggested that they get their pizza to go, and Jake had proposed that they divide and conquer, telling her he needed to run into the market for something.  He'd tried to give her money to pay for dinner, and Heather in turn had threatened him with reopening the pre-nuptial agreement discussion, before kissing him gently and telling him to buy her some milk and that then they could call it even.  Besides, she'd told him, if she got a large pizza, she'd have breakfast and lunch covered for the next day, so really it was all upside as far as she was concerned.

"Figured we needed a specifically designated legal pad for our pre-nup," he'd informed her, taking a bite.

"So now we're gonna have one?" Heather had inquired, shaking her head at him.  "You need to make up your mind, mister."

"Yeah.  But ours is gonna be different," Jake had explained, taking another bite before setting his slice down on the coffee table.  "Not about money – not about financial accounts and what belongs to who."

"Aren't pre-nups all about money?" she'd laughed, throwing him a skeptical look.  "Aren't they supposed to be about money?"

"Everyone else's sure," he'd agreed, writing something across the top of the legal pad, using – she'd realized – a brand new purple rollerball pen that had likely cost six or seven dollars at Gracie's Market.  "But we're gonna be different."

"I have lots of pens, too, Jake, you didn't hafta buy that."

"This is important.  Requires a dedicated pen in your favorite color," he'd insisted.  He'd held up the legal pad for her to see then.  He'd printed 'Heather Lisinski & Jake Green – The Pre-Nup' in his bold script across the top of the page.

"So, you're just gonna write our non-financial pre-nuptial agreement yourself, huh?" she'd asked before finishing off her pizza slice. 

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you're gonna write most of it," Jake had told her, flipping the page and writing something else.  "You have way more rules and requirements than me.  I'm gonna need a page.  The rest of this legal pad," he'd concluded, saluting her with said legal pad, "Is all yours."

She had watched him as he'd worked to quickly jot down his contribution.  "How many rules do you have?" Heather had asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as he'd continued to write. 

"I thought it was four, but now I think it's five," he'd answered distractedly.  "You better have another slice," Jake had recommended glancing at her.  "I'm gonna be done here in a minute, and then it's all you, babe."

"Okay," she'd returned, reaching for her second piece of pizza.

"I'm done," he'd announced three minutes later, looking expectantly at his intended, who had been wiping her hands clean on a paper towel.  He'd held the legal pad and pen out to her.  "Here.  And it was six."

Heather had stared at Jake's page, a smile blooming on her face as she took it all in.

 

Jake's Rules/Requirements

 

1. No pineapple on pizza.  No Hawaiian pizza.  No non-traditional pizza toppings.  (ex.: potato slices, eggplant, tortilla strips)

2. You are never allowed to tell me Tommy's 157 words. 

3. I will wear costumes if I have to but not ones that require makeup or hair gel.  (Count Jake-ula Clause)

4. If/when we have a fight you don't slam doors in my face.  You can tell me to go away or you need time.  But we make sure we talk again in a reasonable amount of time (hours not days). 

5. I am allowed to open doors and carry things for you if I want to.  You should always assume that's what I'm going to do.  Remind me if I don't.

6. We're full assed married.  1000% in.  Both of us.

 

 

"I think we need to label number five as the 'Chivalry Clause'," she'd told him, offering him a wobbly smile.  "And I think this is a really, really good list."  Heather had leaned toward him, her lips puckered expectantly.  "Thank you," she'd sighed as he'd kissed her.

"Okay, your assignment, Miss Lisinski—"

"Pretty sure that's the first time you've gotten to say that to me," she'd giggled.

"First and last time I'm gonna hafta call you Miss Lisinski too, I bet.  I don't tell you what to do that much," he'd reminded.  "But your assignment, should you choose to accept, Miss Lisinski, soon to be Mrs. Green—"

"Thank you!"

"—is to flip the page, put 'Heather's Rules/Requirements' at the top, and then just start listing them," Jake had ordered.  "From our first date forward.  Bonus points if you can do 'em in order."

Heather had turned back to his page then, and had thrown him a quizzical look.  "Yours aren't in order.  Pizza is from our first date, but we were engaged before you ever even knew about Tommy's hundred fifty-seven words.  And, you've always been chivalrous."

"Actually, Tommy's hundred and fifty-seven words should be first and last on that list.  Just the fact that they exist scares the hell outta me," he'd declared.  "Just leave spaces in between so we can edit, if necessary."

"I have a green highlighter," Heather had announced, climbing to her feet.  "We can highlight the really important requirements like that one," she'd suggested, squeezing by him, though when he'd grabbed her hand, she had been more than happy to lean down and kiss him again.  "That work for you, Mr. Green?"

"That works," he'd agreed, following her with his eyes as she'd crossed the room to her office nook.  Heather had quickly located a green highlighter in her desk, and returning to her place on the couch, she'd asked, "I'm highlighting Tommy's hundred fifty-seven words and 'don't slam doors', okay?"

"What about 'full assed married'?" Jake had offered, "That's important, too."

She'd groaned then.  "They're all important.  But some are slightly more important."

"And that's why they're in our pre-nup."

"Right!" Heather had acknowledged.  "Okay, here goes nothing – or something – something very important," she'd edited, catching her fiancé's put out expression.  "First date requirements—"

"Not married, not dying, not wanted by the FBI," Jake had supplied helpfully.  "That's married to other people.  Because we're gonna—" 

"—be full assed married.  To each other.  But actually," she'd told him, shaking her head, "That was not the first, first date requirement." 

"Pretty sure it was," Jake had argued. 

But Heather had shaken her head 'no' a second time.  "Those were the second, first date requirements.  When we got to The Jericho Grille and they'd had the fire, I said that we should go to The Pizza Garden, and you thought we were overdressed, but I told you I hadn't wanted to go out with you for where you would take me but because I wanted to spend time with you.  So that's actually the first, first date requirement slash rule.  Spending time together is more important than what we do or where we go." 

"Yeah," Jake had nodded, "That definitely belongs in our pre-nup.  Highlighted."

 

* * * * * *

 

"That's what I wrote, Mom," Jake continued. "It just doesn't mean what you're thinkin'.  It's – it's like an inside joke," he told her, not sure how else to explain.  It was, after all, unexplainable to anyone who wasn't Heather – and Heather, he didn't need to explain it to at all.  "It's – it's about pancake frequency, and how pineapple doesn't belong on pizza and – now – peanut butter cookies."

"You two have a pre-nuptial agreement about foods that begin with 'P'?" his mother chuckled.

"Apparently," he admitted, "But not really.  It's – there's other stuff in there," he insisted, ordering, "Hold on a sec, Mom."

Jake turned to give the transmission report to the clerk, who, in turn, handed him a clipboard with a form on it.  He filled it out, jotting down his name, employee number, the phone number he'd faxed, and the number of pages transmitted.  The cost of the fax would be deducted from his – or rather the other Jake Green's – next paycheck, along with a hefty fee.  He folded and then stuffed his three pages into the front pocket of his backpack and slung it, along with his soft-sided cooler bag, over his shoulder before heading for the exit.

"I'm just sayin' that part of the note is real.  The whole note is real.  And, we have a pre-nup, it's just about how – how we're married, I guess.  Instead of money.  Like I only go to church on special occasions," he offered, moving to seat himself on the same bench he'd sat on three days earlier when he and Heather had had their nearly disastrous conversation. 

"That sounds exactly like something Heather would come up with," Gail chuckled.

"Yeah, only it was my idea.  Just to get her to stop worrying that we should do something else.  The other kind," he explained.  "So that's what we did, like, two months before we got married.  And now, when we need to, we add to it.  Just now Heather's in charge of it – keeping it all together.  Calls herself 'the custodian of record'."

"I see," Gail sighed, "And I think I can understand why you want this love letter to be a part of that, too.  This is a big step."

"That's a love letter?"  Jake sounded amused by the idea.

"Definitely," his mother confirmed, "To Heather, and to your future children.  Though, really, would it have hurt you to use the word 'baby'?" she asked, tutting at him softly.  "Just once. You could've written 'We should have a baby'," she suggested.  "Might be better than 'We should have a kid'."

"Nah, if I'd written that, she'll think I'm just telling her what she wants to hear.  My way, Heather might think I mean it.  Which I do," he declared.  "And why're you grading my note—"

"Love letter," she corrected.

"—to my wife on a subject where we all know exactly where you stand?"

"It was just a suggestion," Gail defended.  "But at least I can't be accused of pushing anymore, especially after she receives this on Tuesday."

"We've been talking about it," Jake admitted then.  "We talked about it, and I kinda asked her what she wanted me to say, and Heather told me that she wants me to say 'baby', but she knows I'm gonna say 'kid'.  And, I guess she's right." 

Gail could imagine the shrug that went along with that statement.  Her son did not care to be underestimated by those he loved and respected, and Heather was definitely first on that list. 

"Plus, like a week and a half ago," he continued, "Kerry sent a ton of pictures of Megan's half birthday party, and I told Heather she was a 'cute kid'.  Guess I should've said 'cute baby'.  So now I just want to be sure she knows I mean it, that's all."

"I'm sure she will, Jake," his mother soothed.  "How could she not, reading this?"

"Yeah, well.  We agreed we'd talk about it later – when we're together.  But I know she's worried – afraid – I'm gonna say I'm not ready," he confessed, blowing out an anxious breath.  "But I am – pretty sure I am."  He chuckled uneasily, then quickly changed the subject.  "You know I must've looked at those pictures – all of 'em – ten times, maybe more."

"Joe sent your dad a few of those pictures," Gail told him, throwing him a bit of a lifeline.  The subject had clearly left him nervous, but she could also tell that he was sincere.  "There was one of both Grandpa Joes with Megan and Joey," she recalled, pulling the scissors out of the desk's top drawer so she could carefully cut out the 'Heather' that Jake had sent on the second page of his fax.  "And one of just Joe holding Megan.  Your dad made me stop what I was doing and come right into the den to see," she chuckled.  "You know, I think he'd enjoy having a granddaughter to dote on himself," she informed her son.  "And, I'd like that too, of course," she admitted, taping the 'Heather' strip of paper to the front of an envelope.

"Aren't you just supposed to be happy with what you get when it comes to kids?" Jake reminded.  "Boy, girl, it doesn't matter, right?"

"In the end, yes," his mother agreed, turning her attention to cutting out Jake's drawing.  "We'll all be happy whichever way it goes," Gail declared.  "But you know, the speculation while you wait is fun too.  I've always thought people are too eager to find out these days."

"Well, if we do have a daughter, our plan is to name her after her grandmothers," Jake confided suddenly.  "So, don't get too upset when we name our kid 'Abigail', okay?  A-R-G is a better set of initials than R-A-G, right?"

"Those are definitely better initials," his mother agreed a moment later, after she'd caught her breath.  "And, Jake," she'd continued, "You do know that I don't hate my name, it's just that I hated the nickname my brothers came up with for me.  When I was little, my mother called me 'Abigail', and my father called me 'Abby', so your uncles – Stuart and Eddie – they started to call me 'Abby-gail'," she explained.  "And then it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to them calling me 'Baby Snail'."

A short bark of laughter escaped Jake. "Sorry Mom," he sputtered, a second later.  "That's – that sucks."

"It was their commentary on how they felt about your Grandma Peggy always saying they had to take me along to play with them.  I was a baby who was going to slow them down," Gail sighed, affixing the airplane drawing to the envelope.  "Stuart was nine or ten, Eddie, six or seven.  I was four, four and a half.  They hadn't even bothered to come up with a nickname for Dennis yet, and Bridget was an infant," she remembered.  "Of course, when they finally got around to nicknaming Bridget, they called her 'Bridget the Midget'."

Jake groaned, but it quickly turned into a laugh.  "They wouldn't dare call her that now, she'd kill 'em."

"That may be why she works so hard at being intimidating," Gail agreed, chuckling along with her son.  "Still, it put 'Baby Snail' into perspective.  And by then, I was already 'Gail'.  That was Grandpa Walt's suggestion after I cried one too many times about how mean the boys were.  So, it was the name I told the teacher on the first day of first grade, and it just stuck.  I don't hate my given name," she assured him.  "It just doesn't actually sound like my name.  To me."

"Well, I get that.  Trust me," he acknowledged with an uneasy laugh.  "Sorry your brothers were such jerks."

"Thank you.  And luckily, they've matured."  She allowed herself one last opportunity to look over Jake's note (though, really, she thought reading it again, it was most definitely a love letter) to Heather before folding it in thirds.   "And you have too, Jake.  You will be much more than an 'okay dad'," she predicted.

"God, I hope so," he snorted.  "I just – I never really thought about it – having kids – before Heather.  So, yeah, for her – for them – I wanna be better than okay.  A lot better."

"And that's why you will be," Gail decided, finally tucking the letter into the envelope she'd prepared.  "A great dad, I've no doubt.  You've always succeeded at the things you've been willing to put effort into – your heart into."

"Thanks, Mom," he murmured.  "I hope so.  And thanks for taking care of this for me."

"Of course, sweetheart," Gail returned, her smile evident in her tone.  "I will take great care with this.  Thank you for trusting me with this – this mission," she decided, laughing softly.  "I'm just very happy for you – both of you."

"Thanks," he repeated.  "And just remember – be calm."

"I'll be calm, Jake, promise," she swore. "And, I've got it in the envelope, with her name taped to the front." 

"And the drawing?"

"And the drawing, which is very sweet, honey," his mother assured him.  "Just need to seal it, and it's all ready for delivery tomorrow.  Well, the first delivery to the florists tomorrow," she amended.

"They're supposed to deliver them first thing on Tuesday," Jake offered.  "I didn't realize it was Field Day until later, so they may sit in the office for a while."

"Well, that just means Harriet will enjoy them for a few hours, and then Heather will get to enjoy them too.  For someone who gets flowers so often," she joked, "She's never gotten blasé about it."

"That's why I send 'em – or bring 'em – to her so much.  Always makes her day."  Jake paused for a moment, then prompted, "You better get to church."

"I suppose," Gail sighed.  She could have happily talked to him for another hour, though she knew that wasn't fair to Heather, who was probably hoping for a call as well.  "Check your email Jake, and give Heather a call." 

"I will Mom.  Gonna go grab a sandwich to go, and go read my email," he promised.  "And, hey, if you can, tell Heather the story of how I ended up called 'Jake', okay?  I sorta told her about it, but she'd love to hear the story, and you can tell it better."

"I'll keep that in my back pocket, in case I get the impulse to be excited around her over the next few days," Gail teased.

"Calm, Mom!" Jake admonished with mock gruffness.

"It's been great to talk to you, honey." 

"Good to talk to you, too, Ma.  Bye."

Their connection ended, and Gail thumbed off her phone, pressing her hand to her mouth for a moment, then wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.  Squaring her shoulders, she exhaled a long breath, then picked up the envelope and licked the seal before carefully pressing it closed.

 

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

Sunday June 4, 7:19 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Sunday June 4, 11:19 am (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

 

"Hey babe," Jake greeted as their landline phone was picked up mid-second ring.  He supposed there was a thousand in one chance that she wasn't the one who had answered the phone, but she had said in her email that she would be home alone – sleeping in – for most of the day, and he doubted his father had gotten past his aversion to disarming the alarm in the last day, or would be answering their phone if somehow he had.  "How're you?"

"Hey you," Heather returned, confirming his assumption.  "I'm good.  Glad you called," she added, her voice taking on a sultry quality.  "I was startin' to get worried you weren't gonna."

"I worked some overtime today, so I can take a couple hours off on Tuesday," he explained.  "Might not be able to answer all my email tonight, but I sure as hell was gonna call you.  Been lookin' forward to it all day, even before I read my email and knew you'd planned things out so I could."

Heather groaned softly.  "So, you definitely saw my email."

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, refraining from telling her that his mother had alerted him to the need to do so.  After all, he would have called her anyway.  "How're you doin' after yesterday?" 

"I'm fine," she grumbled.  "Embarrassed that I got embarrassed.  And that I emailed you about it.  Like I said in my later email – and maybe I didn't say it, but it's what I meant – I realized it wasn't that big of a deal." 

"Seemed like a big deal to me – medium deal, anyway," he told her.  "And, I'm glad you emailed me about it.  Everyone else did—"

"Oh God!" she interjected, "That's just great."

"—so, if you hadn't, I'd be freaked," Jake completed.

"Freaked because you're married to somebody who doesn't understand your family's business at all?  Or, freaked because you're married to somebody who's probably going to die an early death from blushing herself to death?  Or, maybe freaked—"

"Not worried about any of that, Heather," he interrupted.  "Well, don't blush yourself to death.  That would suck.  But – If you hadn't emailed me, I'd be worried that you didn't think you could tell me about – about how you're feeling.  And I'd hate that."

She groaned again.  "Define 'everyone else'.  Please tell me that Stanley did not email you.  Tony doesn't even have email," she said, more as a reminder to herself than to him.  "Eddie only has email at school.  And no way the Sharpes know how to email you, they only ever deal with your mom."

"They didn't.  April did – she said Eric was knocked out from too much physical labor, so clearly his day job is way too cushy," Jake joked.  "And my parents both emailed me.  Just those three besides you.  And they all said that you were embarrassed and it wasn't your fault and they all felt really bad about it."

"It wasn't my fault," she echoed, grumbling softly.  "But it was embarrassing, and I don't know.  I just – it was like the perfect storm of an embarrassing situation.  That discussion – of how exactly to do things – was so weird, and sometimes I – I don't know."

"Sometimes you don't know what?" he prompted.  It was always the things that Heather felt she couldn't talk about with him – the things she avoided telling him – that worried him the most.  His wife was an open book, at least to him, unless she thought she needed to protect him from something.  "C'mon, babe.  Your priest basically ordered you to talk to me," he reminded. 

"My priest said we should take the opportunity to communicate," she corrected gently.  "Have lemons, make lemonade.  But it's a good idea."

"It is.  So, sometimes you don't know what?"

"I guess – I guess I don't always feel like I completely belong here," Heather admitted a few seconds later, sniffling softly.  "That's not how I feel today," she continued in a rush of breath, "But, yeah, yesterday, for a little bit, that's how I felt."

"Babe – Heather.  You belong here," he argued, frowning to himself.  "Well, not here – not where I am.  I don't belong here," Jake complained.  "But you belong there.  At home.  Our home."

"I know," she answered, "That's just not always the easiest thing to remember."

"Well, remember it," Jake ordered, cringing inwardly as he heard the frustration in his tone.  He didn't want her to think for even a split second that he was irritated with her, but that didn't mean there weren't two teenaged boys back in Kansas that he'd happily put on stall mucking out duty for the rest of their miserable lives.  "You belong there.  It's where we live, and if you don't belong there, then I don't either."

"Okay," she sighed.  "And, I'm sorry, I think – I know – I'm just missing you a lot right now.  It's way easier to remember that I belong when you're here.  I know I belong with you."

"I miss you too, babe," he murmured in return.  "And, I'm sorry I'm not there to remind you that you're exactly where you belong."

"You're reminding me," Heather argued.  "Right now.  And I'm really glad you called."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he joked.

"No, Jake, don't be silly.  I'm just – I'm reminded.  I was basically fine last night, but I still want to talk to you.  And to forget about what happened.  Can we do that?"

"In a minute, because I need to apologize for what happened.  It was my fault – unintentional – but still my fault.  So, I'm sorry you were set up – that I set you up – to be embarrassed."

"How could what happened possibly be your fault, Jake?" Heather asked, a hint of a snicker creeping into her voice.  "That makes no sense.  You weren't here.  I'm glad you weren't here to witness that, actually.  As much as I wish you were here, so clearly, I can't make up my mind," she admitted, finally giving into a full-blown giggle at her own indecisiveness.  

"I asked you for a report," he argued. 

"I was down at the barn by eight-thirty, Jake," she countered.  "You hadn't sent your email, and I certainly hadn't read it.  And I wanted to go down to the barn, that's where all the excitement was."

"Well, see?  You belong there – you know where the excitement is on a horse ranch," he teased.

Heather groaned softly.  "I thought it would be interesting – and really, it was – but then everything happened, and I really didn't feel cut out to be living on a horse ranch in that exact moment."

"I shouldn't have told Dad to breed Ganymede," Jake declared.  "I was just – I was glad, I guess, that he asked for my advice, and then I gave him my plan for the ranch.  Not that it matters right now since this season's already a loss.  But I'm sorry I told him to do that, and then you ended up getting embarrassed."

"Why is breeding Ganymede your plan for the ranch?" she asked.  Her tone was completely changed, full of curiosity, all traces of her earlier anxiety gone.  "Explain it to me like I know nothing about the horse business, because I really don't."

"You know more than you think," he insisted.  "You taught me the lineage software too, remember?"

"That's reading a manual, it's not understanding about horses," Heather argued.  "And I live on a horse ranch, I want to know what we do.  And then one day maybe it won't be so embarrassing."

"You can live on a horse ranch and not know everything about equine breeding." 

"But I want to know.  And it'll help me feel like I belong," she reasoned.  "What's your plan for the ranch?  Why Ganymede?  C'mon, Jake," she wheedled, "I like it when you tell me about running the ranch, and you always act like I understand it all. It's very sweet."

"Okay," he agreed, sounding and feeling pleased about her request.  He didn't get to tell her a lot about his official employment with the DEA, and as a result he knew a lot more about the triumphs and travails of teaching third grade than his wife knew about what he did day-to-day, but he had always enjoyed their conversations about what was happening on the ranch.  She was naturally inquisitive, interested in everything, and it was always fun – and sometimes a challenge – to talk to her about the things he could talk about, and that were important to him.

"Hey, it's that or we move straight to the sweet talk part of this conversation, Jakey," she prompted when he didn't begin.

He groaned.  She had managed to sneak a requirement into their pre-nup (the 'Heather's Rules/Requirements' section went on for pages) that obligated him to not only provide 'sweet talk' on demand, but also allowed her – only under the specific scenario of requesting 'sweet talk' – to refer to him as 'Jakey'.  "There's gonna be a 'sweet talk' portion of this conversation, huh?"

"You better believe it," Heather returned, giggling.  "I haven't even been able to decide if yesterday was almost as or more embarrassing than all my brothers and their wives making fun of me for falling in love with a cowboy.  So sweet talk is definitely required, cowboy."

"Technically, I'm not a cowboy – no cows," he reminded. 

"That is going to upset a lot people in my family.  Uncle Cowboy Jake, remember?"

"I can still be Uncle Cowboy Jake.  That's like conceptual."

"You're funny," Heather sighed, and Jake was sure she was shaking her head at him – and smiling.

"Still, I think I can manage some 'sweet talk'," Jake conceded, chuckling.  "Kinda expected that I'd be called upon to provide some after everything yesterday.  But first your equine breeding lesson, Mrs. Green, okay?"

"I'm ready," she assured.

"Okay, so, you know we're a breeding operation, and most of our revenue comes from breeding, raising, and then selling horses, right?"

"Right.  That I know."

"Well, this first part is review, okay?  Background," he clarified.   

"Repetition is a tried-and-true teaching method," Heather reminded, "Use it all the time, myself."

"So, I'm vice principal approved," Jake joked.

"Always, hon."

"So, we sell most of the horses born on ranch," he continued.  "Eighty to ninety percent, depending on the year.  And, the horses we keep tend to be fillies or mares, for breeding stock."

"Right," she declared.  "Though that brings us to the question of Callie – Callisto – and whether she should be bred.  So?"

"And the answer is, yes but no," Jake said, drawing an exasperated noise from his wife.  "Breeding a maiden mare is even more complicated than working with an unproven stallion.  You can't just breed the mare."  Jake paused, allowing a wry chuckle.  "You have to get her used to being mounted first, or things can go really wrong."

"So, yeah, I should skip that day," Heather groan-laughed.

"Probably, yeah," he agreed.  "Gramps and I always worked with the mares on that, on a totally separate day.  And I wouldn't want my dad having to handle that, too.  You hafta put this leather apron on the practice stallion so he can't actually breed her.  There's a whole process."

"Okay, so, yeah.  Not breeding Callie this year," Heather decided.  "But when you're home next year, right?  That's why you kept her."

"We kept her because she's your horse," Jake said.  "And because she's kind of a great horse: beautiful color, good size, smarter than average, perfect temperament."

"That's why I was interested in her when she was a baby. I mean, when she was a foal," she corrected herself.  "She was pretty and friendly – if a horse can be friendly?" she laughed, "Plus I loved her diamond patch."

"See?  You had a good eye for horseflesh even then," he complimented.  "Gramps wanted you to have a horse of your own, and we need a good stable of breeding mares—" 

"Broodmares, you mean," she interjected. 

"It's the business, so yeah.  It was an easy choice to keep her.  And, Callisto's still your horse," Jake insisted.  "But she's also good breeding stock, and you can still ride a horse that's in foal.  And you know," he continued, "We've sold two or three of her sisters and they've turned out to be solid barrel racers.  So, if you wanna take that up," he teased.

"I'm gonna become a better rider this summer and leave it at that, okay?"

"That's works.  You should enjoy the perks of living on a horse ranch, babe.  Maybe it's just the one perk – you get to ride your very own horse whenever you want.  But you don't have to know everything 'bout the business."

"I don't think I could handle knowing every bit of the business," Heather chuckled ruefully.  "I still wanna be able to talk to you about it.  I want you to be able to talk to me about what you do.  Even the stuff I'm gonna try and avoid seeing in person."

"Well, like I said, I shouldn't have told Dad to breed Ganymede," he'd reminded.  "And, if I'd been there, I would've told you to stay away for that part, because yeah."

"So, what do you call a stallion that's never been bred?" she demanded.

"Unproven," he answered, "Though Ganymede's still unproven, and will be for a while.  We're – I'm – trying to develop him as our next stud, and it'll take a few years.  Until a stud has foals on the ground – offspring that you can point to as good at whatever it is they do—"

"Like barrel racing?"

"Yeah. Different sires produce different kinds or horses.  Good rodeo horses, or good saddle horses, horses that accept the harness, trail horses," Jake explained.  "But until a stud is proven, we can't really ask money for breeding him." 

"So, that's why the Sharpes only want Agamemnon." Heather realized, sounding very pleased with herself.

Jake was happy too.  "Exactly, you got it.  They might breed one mare to Ganymede for free – just take the chance that it'll work out, but they're not gonna barter with us for the service of an unproven stallion."

"That makes sense."

"And, we only make, maybe, ten percent of our revenue off of stud fees – maybe, twenty percent in a really good year – but it's more profitable than breeding our studs to our own mares because then we carry all the costs and risk," he explained.  "So, even though that's what we do – raise horses for sale – we really want to maintain that line of business, too."

"Right, because you're already paying all the upkeep on the stallion – well, the stud – anyway.  And also, if you can get someone to pay a stud fee, then they've covered the costs for who knows how many days when you can breed that stud to your own mares, too, right?" Heather reasoned.  "And then sell those offspring – or at least enough of them to cover the costs of the horses you keep for breeding stock."

"See?  You've been downplaying what you know all this time, babe.  You get the breeding business," Jake informed her.  "A plus."

"I get the business part – the economics make sense.  Sorta," Heather countered.  "Slim margins."

"Most of the time," he agreed.  "That's why we hafta stay diversified.  And why one season like this one's gonna impact the next five years," Jake admitted.

"Well, that's a bummer," she grumbled.  "Still not your fault, hon.  And the breeding part is still kinda weird.  Or really weird.  At least to this city girl," she sighed.

"I happen to love you, city girl," Jake replied flirtatiously.  "And you really don't hafta participate in – attend, whatever you want to call it – everything that happens on the ranch, especially with the breeding side of things.   Just go riding sometimes, and come see the foals when they're born so you can name 'em.  Okay?"

"That I can do, definitely," she agreed.  "I'm gonna go riding, and I really do love getting to name the baby foals.  But you're sure you're okay being married to a city girl who blushes big time over horse breeding?" Heather challenged, although there was a playful note in her tone that told him that this time she wasn't really worried about his answer.

"I am one thousand percent – a hundred thousand percent – okay with being married to you," he declared.  "Just sorry that you ended up embarrassed yesterday – really sorry that it's because you wanted to get in on the excitement, and instead you had to deal with 'teenage boy brains and hormones'," Jake said, quoting his mother.  "God," he added a beat later, "You have no idea how glad I am that you did not know me when I was seventeen."

"Yeah, me too," she laughed.  "Because you do remember that when you were seventeen, I was eleven or twelve, right?  If I'd met you then, I would've been just another August to you."

"Nothin' against August, but you as a kid were nothing like her as a kid.  Trust me," he said.  "She literally almost drowned herself once to get my attention.  You always say you didn't chase boys, so no way you would've done that."

"I didn't chase boys," she insisted.  "And seriously?  August did that?  When you were a lifeguard?" 

Heather was well aware that while Jake's first official job had been washing dishes at The Pizza Garden, he had also spent a number of summers working as a lifeguard at the Jericho Community Pool.  The Greens were longtime members of Fielding Glen Country Club – EJ and Betsy Green were founding members – and Eric, having caught the golf bug around age twelve, had spent as much of his free time at Fielding Glen as he could convince his parents to allow.  A definite regular by the summer of 1989, he'd heard that there would be a lifeguard position coming open the next year and had pushed his parents to let him take the training and apply.  A Red Cross lifeguard certification course had been scheduled in Goodland across four Saturdays in September and October, and Gail had agreed to drive Eric, but only if Jake also enrolled.  Jake hadn't been interested in working at the country club, but when Johnston had told him that the starting pay for lifeguards at the community pool was ten dollars an hour – more than two and a half times minimum wage – and that the Parks and Recreation Department was always looking for lifeguards, he'd agreed to attend the classes with his brother.

So, Jake (who had been driving on the ranch since he was eleven) had taken and passed the road test for his license the Monday after he'd turned sixteen; reported for his first shift at The Pizza Garden the following Friday night; and had helped open the community pool for the season the second weekend in May.  As soon as he'd started lifeguarding, Emily Sullivan had tried to convince him to give up The Pizza Garden, pouting about never being able to spend time with him.  But Jake had stubbornly refused on the grounds that lifeguarding was seasonal, and that he liked working for Mags.  Anything seven-year-old Mindy Henry might have had to do with his decision, he'd kept to himself. 

"Yeah, I remember April saying August was hoping I'd perform CPR on her," Jake groaned.  "That's how I met them, actually.  The first time I met them," he clarified.  "April and I both saw her go under, so I blew my whistle and jumped in.  Got 'er outta the pool and on the deck, and April started pounding her on the back," he explained.  "But as soon as April said that she'd start CPR, August coughed and was all better," he chuckled.  "It happened quick enough, and she was okay, so I didn't have to close the pool for the day.  Lucky, because it was a hot day, they were new to town, and that would not have made August very popular at the Elementary." 

Heather laughed.  "Wasn't she like nine?  And she was trying to get you to kiss her by performing CPR on her?  I was so grossed out by the idea of kissing when I was nine," she declared.  "And if anyone had had to perform CPR on me, I would have probably died of embarrassment."

"She's actually born in August, right? 'Cause only one of them was born when you'd expect," he remembered.  "And I told you – no dying from embarrassment."

"Yep," she confirmed.  "August and Autumn were both born in August, and April was born in May.  The third, and her mom said she was two weeks late, so she was actually supposed to be born in April.  Karen said that was why they picked her name."

"Well, this was right after Fourth of July, so August was still eight.  And you are nothing like her," Jake declared.  "Not to me anyway.  No comparison." 

"Thanks, I appreciate that.  Even though I like August."

"You're welcome.  And, when exactly did kissing become not gross to you?" he demanded, his tone curious.

"I dunno," she giggled, "Older than nine, younger than now?  I'm not completely sure kissing wasn't still a little bit gross for me up until I met you."

"That's because you were kissing the M and M boy.  Which is gross to think about," Jake opined, punctuating his statement by making a gagging noise.

"'M and M boy'?" Heather snickered, "That's very mild coming from you, hon."  He made a non-committal noise – not entirely sure she hadn't teed that up for him on purpose – but otherwise didn't respond.    "And, you know," she continued, "I try to never think about who you were kissing before you met me, so I suggest you do the same.  Besides, we both have much better things to ruminate on when it comes to kissing than who we each might have occasionally kissed before." 

"I'm still enjoyin' your slideshow, babe," he told her, chuckling.  "That count as ruminating?"

"Definitely!" she declared brightly. "And me, too.  I watch it every night, at least once."

"Yeah, me too."

"So, we're agreed," she announced a moment later. "It's a good thing I didn't know you when you were seventeen, for multiple reasons.  And it is also good that we didn't know each other when I was seventeen—"

"For legal reasons, if nothing else.  You dad would not have stood for me hanging around with you then," Jake snorted.  "Or your brothers.  If I'd met one of them first—"

"If you'd been friends with my brothers first, no way you would've wanted to go out with Andy or Tommy or John's little sister.  Things worked out like they should've," Heather decided.  "We were not meant to meet when we were teenagers – especially since we weren't really teenagers at the same time.  Not the same kinda teenager anyway."

"Yeah, you were a girl and I was a boy.  Not the same kind at all." 

"Not exactly what I meant, Jake," she sighed.  "More like, what does a thirteen-year-old have in common with an eighteen-year-old?"

"That too," he agreed.  "Though you know, fifteen or twenty years from now when we're in the thick of things with our own teenagers, odds are at least one of 'em will be a boy," Jake predicted.  "We'll probably end up embarrassed sometime.  Sometimes," he amended, chuckling dryly.  "Because it's pretty much guaranteed to be more than once."

"I know," she acknowledged.  "And it doesn't matter how good of parents we are – we try to be – you are exactly right.  At some point our children are going to embarrass us.  Carla Sharpe was 'absolutely mortified'.  Her words.  Every time I ended up back in the same room with her, she apologized and told me she was 'absolutely mortified'."  Heather paused a moment, then added, "It's not – it's not a reason to not have kids, Jake."

"I wasn't sayin' that it was, Heather," he assured quickly, emphasizing, "I'm not sayin' that.  I'm not – I'm not gonna say anything you're afraid to hear, okay?" 

He paused, weighing how much to tell her now – how much of his note, his love letter according to his mother – to preempt.  He didn't want her to worry, to doubt him or his commitment.  But he also wanted to stick to his plan, despite the fact that he wasn't big on planning.  Except when it came to her.  For Heather, he'd always been willing to make the effort.  And, he wanted her to get his note and to be excited and happy on her birthday.  It wasn't a present – that wasn't how presents were supposed to work, or at least it wasn't how presents worked for them.   But still he'd timed the note to coincide with her birthday, and the hope that he could pull off a Skype call from his secure location.  He wanted the chance to see her while her joy over his decision – his declaration – was still fresh.  He wanted her to be able to see him too, so she could judge for herself the truth in his note.  Jake, obstinately, didn't want to give any of that up.

"I'm just – I think I'm just trying to apologize ahead of time," he continued finally.  "So, sorry on behalf of our future punk teenager.  Or teenagers.  For whatever the hell they do to embarrass you."

"You don't hafta apologize, especially not for that," Heather insisted, exhaling softly. "But thank you all the same.  And I – I trust you to – to not hurt me, okay?  Not when it's important.  Not on purpose."

"Never on purpose, babe," he swore.  "But I can be an idiot, so there's that."

"We've both had our moments, hon," she reminded.  "Luckily, we mostly take turns in having them, right?"

"Right," he agreed, chuckling along with her.  "Still, we should probably come up with a signal," he joked, "For when we're sittin' in the principal's office at the High School and you're feeling overwhelming regret for having kids with me.  Somethin' that lets you know I'm sorry and I love you."

"I'm not gonna regret us having kids, Jake." 

"Hey, I won't either, babe.  Promise."

"Good," Heather declared, allowing a relieved sigh.  "And if you really think we need a signal, how 'bout when we're walking back to the car afterward, you stop me, and you kiss me, and then you say 'I love you'.  But you don't hafta apologize.  I don't want you to ever be sorry for having kids with me.  And that includes apologizing to me for whatever the heck they get up to." 

"You're the only person I want to have kids with, Heather, okay?" Jake insisted.  "And, that's a nice, straightforward signal.  Should work.  Plus, it'll embarrass the hell outta our kid." 

"Added benefit," she giggled.  "And then, on the drive home we can calmly discuss just how grounded our kid is—"

"In front of our kid," he added helpfully.  "Good idea."

"Exactly," she confirmed.  "Because, yeah, called to the principal's office, that's pretty much my nightmare scenario."

"Called to the sheriff's station's worse," he countered.  "Trust me on that."

Heather groaned.  "No, you're right.  That definitely feels worse.  For sure."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, "So, that'd be my plan—"

"You're planning for this?" she interrupted, clearly amused.

"Probably the wrong word," he conceded, chuckling softly.  "How 'bout my approach?" he suggested.  "But if we accept that a few trips to the principal's office are probably inevitable, and work on avoiding trips to the sheriff's station, then hopefully things will work out."  He paused for a moment, exhaling softly through his teeth so that his next words came out in a hiss.  "Not that a coupl'a days cooling your heels in a holding cell is always a bad thing.  Worked on me."

"I know, hon," Heather acknowledged, her tone full of understanding.  And, she did know.  While they still discovered regularly the smaller stories from their pasts that they hadn't found the right opportunity or moment to share, Jake had covered the broad strokes of his personal history including all the lowlights of his teenage years before they were married.  She'd handled those revelations – including his and Emily's pregnancy scare – better than she had initially taken learning the full extent of the Green family money.  So, while he'd never gotten around to thanking his father for leaving him in jail for the weekend, his wife was well aware of how formative the experience had been for him.

"And I think we should definitely take your approach," she continued.  "And the good news is, it'll be a while before we're dealing with teenagers.  Our kids will be babies to start," she reminded, "And with babies all you really worry about at first is—"

"'Keeping them alive'?" he filled in for her, quoting what she'd said in their conversation a week prior.

"Pretty much, yeah.  Make sure they're eating, gaining weight.  Figure out why they're crying, and make it all better.  Don't drop them on their heads.  All part of keeping them alive."

"Then throw a party to celebrate, right?" Jake suggested.  "We should definitely do that."

"Definitely throwin' a party," Heather confirmed, a smile clearly evident in her tone.

"Guess what?" he asked rhetorically.  "I think I can handle that.  'Cause it's basically the same thing with foals.  The eating and gaining weight part, at least.  Even figuring out the cryin', sorta.  And if there's one thing I've learned from bein' around your family," he continued, allowing a dry chuckle, "It's just don't drop babies, period.  On their heads, bottoms, whatever.  Don't play at it – don't pretend you're gonna, like Tommy—"

"He really is dumb sometimes," she sighed.

"Yeah," Jake snorted.  "But that's what I've learned.  Just don't drop babies.  Really freaks out their mothers."

"You've never dropped a baby, Jake," she reminded.  "I have – not on their heads.  But I've done it," Heather groaned.  "And, you're right, their mothers tend to freak.  Not mine, but that's probably because Mikey was her fifth kid.  Still wasn't happy though."

"Okay, you never told me about this," he chided.  "I need some details."

She groaned again, but acceded to his request after a short pause.  "First time, I was trying to lift Mikey onto the couch – he was like two – and I dunno, he just sorta boomeranged off and bellyflopped on the floor," she explained.  "And then with Rebekah – she was ten months – I dropped her on the lawn, getting her out of the playpen.  But that was Andy's fault," she declared, defending herself.  "Deb asked me to reapply her sunscreen, but she was slippery because Andy'd really glopped it on her when he'd done it the time before.

"That's funny," Jake laughed.

"Not really," Heather grumbled.  "Because you're right, moms don't like it when that happens."

"Babe, Mike's goin' to medical school, Rebekah's always honor roll.  No permanent damage done," he declared, "So, it's funny."  

Neither of them said anything else for a long moment, but finally Jake named the uneasy truth that always hung between them these days.  "I'm gonna hafta go soon.  I don't wanna.  But I still need to." 

"I know, Jake.  It's okay." 

"But not quite yet, 'cause I owe you some sweet talk, right?"

"I thought you'd already started.  You said 'baby' twice," she informed him.  "Just slipped 'em into the conversation like it was nothin'.  I thought that was pretty sweet."

"And here I was beginin' to think you hadn't even noticed," he teased.  "I'll try to keep that in my vocabulary, but no promises."  They were both quiet again for a bit, and then he declared, "I love you, Heather." 

"I love you too, Jake," she returned immediately.  "With everything in me." 

"I love you more – more than my own life."  April had told him to tell her that, as soon as he could, but he didn't explain that part.  He hadn't said it because of April.  He'd said it because it was true.  "But that's because you are my life.  Only the good parts though.  The best parts."

"That's some pretty good sweet talk, Jake.  Jakey," she corrected herself a second later, giggling softly.  He moaned softly in protest, and she laughed harder.  "Sorry, hon," she managed to get out a beat later.  "And I love you that much too.  In fact, I'm gonna love you that much for the rest of my life.  Like my fortune cookie said, 'love can last a lifetime if you want it to' and I definitely want it to."

"Definitely for the rest of our lives, babe.  But," he continued, "If I remember the wording of the specific requirement in question correctly, you're not actually allowed to call me 'Jakey' while I am providing sweet talk, only when you ask for it.  And – and really, why is that part of the requirement anyway?"

"It's just something Stanley said once.  He called you my 'Jakey' and I liked it," she told him.  "But you're right about the requirement – how I wrote it," Heather confessed, "So I'm sorry I went out of bounds."

"I remember that," Jake admitted.  "You were at your uncle's funeral and what he actually said was: 'Your girl's been traumatized and needs some sweet talk from her Jakey'."

"Right on all counts," she confirmed.  "That's exactly what I was thinkin' of when I wrote that requirement.  And I am most definitely your girl.  For the rest of our lives."

"I guess it's okay if you call me 'Jakey'," he conceded, affecting a gruff tone.  "Just not in front of other people, okay?  And never, never in front of Mindy." 

"Oh, good Lord, no," she laughed.  "She loves to call you 'Jakey', if she heard me say it – even just once – she'd never let it go."

"Exactly.  I don't want her thinkin' I might like it."

"So maybe you do like it when I call you that," Heather teased before adding, "Ja-akey."

"Not really," he snorted.  "But if anyone's gonna call me that, I guess you're the one."

"Thanks, hon," she murmured.  Though in the next instance, she demanded, "Wait!  Did Emily Sullivan call you Jakey?  Ever?"

Jake groaned.  "I kinda wish she had.  Then you'd never want to say it again.  But no.  She never called me that." 

"Well, what did she call you?" Heather questioned, obviously working to keep her tone neutral.

"You mean besides 'jerk' or 'asshole'?" he grumbled.  "She pretty much just stuck to 'Jake'."

"Are – are you serious?" she demanded, before answering her own question.  "Well, of course you are.  What a – what a bitch." 

"Yeah, she sure can be," he sighed.  "Though, to be fair, I was sixteen, seventeen, so some of the time I actually was a jerk or an asshole." 

"Even so, the people who love you aren't supposed to say things like that to you," Heather declared.

"The people I love don't say things like that to me," Jake told her.  "And even when I say them about myself, they argue with me about it."

"You're not a jerk, Jake.  Or an asshole," she said, proving his point.

"Sometimes I am, babe," he contradicted, "But I try not to be to you."

"You're not," she repeated.  "And you know, I like 'Jakey' because it's – it's cute, and kinda sweet – both things I know you hate for me to say—"

"I don't hate 'em, not when you're the one saying 'em."

"Well, that's progress," Heather chuckled softly.  "I – it's just – I associate 'Jakey' with you comforting me, and cheering me up after something embarrassing, that's all.  Like you did today.  Like you always have for me."

"But this is one of those things that's just between us, right?" he asked finally, after a long pause.  "Like grilled PB and J?"

"Absolutely," she agreed immediately.  "Just between us.  Exactly like grilled PB and J.  Because I like that you're my Jakey.  And that's just for us.  Or maybe just for me."

"I like that you like that I'm your Jakey.  Though – really – you could just like that I'm your number one Jake. I'd be great with that," he chuckled, his voice a warm rumble in her ear across the more than seven thousand miles that separated them.

"Well, you're that too," Heather informed him.  "I'm greedy, I want both."

"If that's how you do greedy, babe," Jake sighed, "I'm sorry to say, you're doin' it wrong." 

"I don't know about that.  Pretty sure I'm being greedy now, hon," she admitted.  "Because I'm willing to talk about literally anything to keep you on the line.  Even though I know you have stuff you need to do." 

"And the bedtime of a third grader," he groaned.  "But I don't wanna get off the phone either.  We're like two minutes from the 'no you hang up' argument."

"That's really more of a spirited discussion than an argument," she countered with a halfhearted giggle.  "But yeah, I don't want to hang up.  Then I hafta do stuff, like get ready and go to dinner tonight," she complained.  "Worse, I hafta stop talking to you."

"You don't want to go to dinner tonight?" he asked before reminding, "It's your birthday dinner.  It's lasagna."

"I know.  I'm just feeling antisocial today.  And if I didn't know your mom was gonna spend two- or three-hours making lasagna because I asked for it, I'd call in sick or something."

"So, you didn't hear it from me," Jake told her, "But there's a surprise planned for you tonight.  Pretty sure you're gonna like it."

"If you actually quit and snuck home to surprise me, hon, you're doing it wrong," Heather returned, forcing a laugh it was clear she didn't really feel.  "Don't surprise me at Sunday dinner, just show up at home, and I'll call in sick to everything."

"Not that big of a surprise, babe.  Sorry."

"I figured," she murmured.  "And it's getting late for you.  You need to go, Jake."

"Yeah, I do," he grumbled.  "But two more things – two and a half – okay?"

This time her giggle was much more genuine.  "Okay.  But how – I really can't wait to hear how you're gonna tell me half a thing."

"I have three things to tell you, but two are related so I'm pretty sure you'd bust me for not actually telling you three things, if I told you I was gonna tell you three things," he contended.  "How 'bout I have two areas of discussion, and you can decide how many things there are?"

"Oh, I like this game!"

"Thought you would," Jake chuckled.  "Okay, so I'm not gonna have time to respond to all my email tonight, and I pretty much owe everyone at your dinner party tonight email, so let 'em know I'm running behind, okay?"

"It's not a party," she argued, "But I will let them know."

"Thanks.  I'm gonna reply to my dad, even though he's already done for the weekend—"

"I'm pretty sure they're still here," she interjected.  "I can't see cars from here, but I haven't heard anyone leaving."

"You're were supposed to sleep in," he reminded.

"I did.  Got up just before seven to let Baron out, but trust me, I went back to bed.  Pillow over my head to block out the light and everything.  Only got up like a half hour before you called.  Just enough time to make coffee and a toaster waffle," Heather catalogued.  "And see, I'm basically babbling now to keep the conversation going.  Anyway, I'll hear when their vehicles go by."

"Well, I'm glad you slept in.  Sort of."

"I slept in, Jake," she assured, prompting, "You're gonna email your dad back."

"Yeah.  Just because he asked for my opinion, you know?  And I'm gonna forward you an email he sent me the other day," Jake told her.  "It's a weird little story about Gramps and me when I was a kid.  Gramps, Eric and me," he clarified.  "My whole family, really.  I think you'll get a kick out of it.  That, or you're gonna be like 'what kinda crazy family did I end up a part of?'"

"I dunno, pound for pound, my family gives your family a run for its money when it comes to crazy, hon," she laughed softly.  "Probably I'll just get a kick out of it.  Besides I always love hearing about when you were a kid, and your dad's stories are usually pretty good."

"Your family only seems a little more crazy because there are so many more of 'em," he argued.  "But if you read the email and start to question your decision to marry me, remember, it was 'for better or worse'."

"I love being a member of both our families.  And – for the record – you have now told me about three things loosely related to your email.  So, if we weight them each at two-thirds of 'a thing', you have told me two things."

"So now I'm gonna tell you one more thing, okay?  And it's separate thing," he snorted, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.  "That's what I get for telling you to keep score.  Anyway, I have a question – maybe a request."

"Well, a question requires an answer, right?  So, if a question is half a thing, and the answer is the other half of the same thing, then you were right all along," she declared.  "Two and a half things.  So, whaddya need, Jake?"

"I need – I want – a date," he replied.  "With you.  So can we have breakfast together on Tuesday?"

"Sure," Heather answered, laughing.  "How're we gonna do that, hon?  Unless you've been lying this whole call and you really have quit your job?"

"Sorry, but I'm not lying to you?" Jake returned.  "This is gonna be by Skype, babe.  Meet me in the kitchen with your coffee and your laptop, okay?  Six AM, Kansas time."  Jake allowed a heavy sigh.  "Sorry 'bout the time, too."

"Time's fine for me, Jake," she dismissed, "Maybe I wake up ten minutes early, just to be safe.  But what about you?  That's two in the afternoon for you, before you're usually off."

"I worked overtime this weekend," he reminded.  "I can't be there for your birthday – and I hate that – so I'm gonna be available here for your birthday."

"Okay then," she acknowledged.  "And, I must admit, I'm very excited for our Skype breakfast date," she proclaimed.  "I'll probably be ready to go at five forty-five.  Really can't wait, Jake."

"Good," he said, sounding relieved.  "And, I'm off at one thirty, my reservation on the booth is for one thirty, and I'll call you – Skype you – as soon as I get there.  We can keep having breakfast until you need to leave."

"Well, it's Field Day and my birthday, so I won't be doing my usual of being there a half hour early.  Maybe I won't even leave here until seven oh five – or seven ten."

"Wild woman," Jake teased.  "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

"Hey!" Heather protested, "I can be wild.  I just – I choose my moments," she declared somewhat primly.

"And I love the moments you choose, babe."  He heaved a long sigh before admitting, "I probably should go."

"Yeah, I know," she murmured.  "I love you, Jake.  And I miss you, and I can't wait to see you!"

"I love you, too," he replied, "And I miss you, and I can't wait to see you, either."  He exhaled in frustration but didn't say anything else.

Finally, Heather asked, "You need me to hang up this time, hon?"

"I just don't wanna," he admitted.

"That's okay," she soothed.  "So, I'm gonna say 'goodbye', and then you're gonna say 'goodbye', and then I'm gonna hang up, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.  "I probably won't have time to talk tomorrow night, but I'll email you—"

"Hey, we're having breakfast together on Tuesday.  I'll be fine with just email tomorrow.  I love you," she added a beat later.  "Good night, Jake."

"Love you, too.  Bye, babe."

 

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

 

 

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From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:31 (UTC-5)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: FW: Ganymede

Attachments:

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Hey Babe -

 

This is the email I told you about.

I told Dad that when we have kids he's not allowed to tell them these kind of stories.  He said if he's still allowed (after yesterday) to tell his grandkids stories he'll make sure they are appropriate for children. My dad really cares what you think of him.  You know that right?

Dad says we were 5 and a half when this happened.  A couple of weeks before we started Kindergarten.  Means you were at least born.  (More important of a fact to me than going Kindergarten.) 

I don't know why he thinks the Greeks are any better for naming horses after but I'm not going to tell him to go brush up on his Greek mythology.  He did say he was glad you're naming our foals now.

And remember if you start thinking you married into the loony bin it's "for better or worse".     

 

Love you

Jake

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[FORWARDED MESSAGE FOLLOWS]

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From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Fri Jun 02 16:11 (UTC+3)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

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Jake,

I had to look up Tiberius to see how he was related to Caligula and Nero, couldn't remember.  I'd forgotten just how odd all those Roman Empire family relationships could be.  Makes our squabbles look like squabbles.

. . .

 

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 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:34 (UTC+3)

To: Johnston Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

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Hi Dad

I talked to Heather and she doesn't blame you for what happened.  I blame myself even though she doesn't blame me either.  I shouldn't have told you to breed Ganymede.  That was too much to ask.  I think we need another stud on the ranch but it could have waited until next season.

Heather asked if you should breed Callisto and I said no.  We have 15 or 20 other mares that can still be bred over the next 4 to 6 weeks.  That's more than you could get to just working weekends.  You did better than I expected to breed 5 mares including using Ganymede twice yesterday.

Go along with whatever Doc Hansen says.  He's actually there and he knows what he's doing.  I know you know that.  You and Gramps probably told me that when I was a 17yo punk.  I'm glad the Sharpes are going to keep Tom busy at the stables.  If I were in charge of him he'd be mucking out stalls for eternity.

I forwarded your email to Heather just so you know.  Don't worry you're still allowed to babysit when we have kids.

 

Jake

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 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 21:06 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: I wanted to change it but ... no ideas

Attachments:

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Mrs. Green –

I told you I'm not a cowboy for the technical reason that I don't have cows.  But I'll be your Cowboy Jake forever.  And I'm not committing that other nickname that is seriously just between us to an email that could end up being read aloud in federal court.  Also when this thing goes to trial you're not allowed to attend this time Babe.  Just because if you do they might adopt a legal strategy of asking me about our email exchange.  Particularly since I'm giving them the idea. 

I'm greedy.  I only want you blushing for me.  And you let me know when I've gone too far ok?

Scarecrow and Mrs. King was one of Mom's favorite shows.  So I have seen it.  Every episode.  My parents have only ever had 1 tv (at a time) remember.  Now you have me convinced that my parents probably think that's what my job is like.  Just so you know it's not.  You aren't old enough to have seen that show first run so I assume there were reruns on TV Land or something.

I usually look at my other account first.  Only because this is a new thing for us – flirting on this account. (And I don't flirt with every woman I meet.  Just you.)  I told you I read your email first.  Then I worry about all the crap everyone else sends me.  That's the reason why I now have an Auntie Gretchen.  She didn't think I was answering her as quickly as she wanted.  But she figured me out and realized why I was checking my other account first.  She's my work mom after all.  And I hope they do ask me to explain what I mean by that under oath someday.  She's going to hate the answer.

Your Mike goes to med school story was perfect.  I'm sorry I had to ask you to do that.

I forgot to ask about your dad's response to your promotion news when we talked earlier.  I bet he's as proud of you as I am.  I heard from Mike and I know how proud of you he is.  But tell me about everything your dad said.  And he is so going to brag on you at church.  To widows and orphans and anyone who will listen.

I started answering this email before 9, so don't bust me too bad Babe for sending it just after.

Have a good birthday dinner.  Enjoy your lasagna and the cake and your surprise.  Can't wait to read all about it tomorrow.

I love love love you.

 

Jake

aka Heather Green's Cowboy Jake

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From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 21:20 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments:

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Ange

Been a busy weekend and I figured you deserved to have it for yourself, Steve and Christopher.  Also I've been working my ass off to make up for Tuesday.  I got to talk to Heather for 45 minutes tonight which is why I'm emailing you so late.  Totally worth it though.

I think you're right – we're friends.  So as your friend and as a guy married to an admitted geek I think I can tell you that you are married to a nerd.  Steve is only the 2nd person (Heather is the 1st) to send me an email that says "pun intended".  That's a nerd move.  He also really liked "pound sand".  But the real clue is that he wanted to tell his sister to "take a long walk off a short pier".  That sounds like something my Grandpa would say.  So you and I can be the non-nerds in each of our marriages and friends too ok?

Steve wants to talk the horse breeding business with me when this assignment is over.  Sounds good.  Give me a month or so at home alone with Heather and then you guys are invited to Kansas to spend a weekend or a week if you can swing it on a horse ranch.  We can all go riding and you can meet my mother and the rest of the family.

Still trying to figure out exactly how to manage Tuesday.  Everyone keeps telling me to Skype with Heather because it's all she wants for her birthday.  I'm hoping to swing a second Skype session with her from my secure location.  So we can do our call before that – say 0300 Baghdad / 1800 Denver?

And now so you don't have to bug me about getting sleep I'm going to bed.

Oh just in case.  Double check the names of Joseph Lind's sons for the website the triplets are putting up.  Heather named every one of her brothers on the phone tonight.  So Andrew, Thomas and John.  Michael is the one who is going to be a doctor.

 

Jake

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 From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 19:57 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments:

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Jake,

I'll keep you posted on what I decide to do as far as breeding for the rest of this month.  That seems to be of interest to you.

I doubt you will appreciate this, but I am also going to offer you a piece of unsolicited advice: you might want to put a little of the energy and thought you put into your job and the ranch into your wife and marriage.  I unintentionally overheard some of Heather's discussion with your mother and April this evening, and she is clearly missing you.  I wouldn't want to see you ruin through neglect the most important relationship of your life. 

And selfishly, I like Heather.  I think she is good for you, and that you are good for her.  I would also one day enjoy having grandkids to tell stories to.

 

Dad

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From: Gail Green

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:18 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Heather's Birthday Dinner

Attachments:

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 Jake, honey –

It was so nice to chat with you this morning.  I just had to say that.  I hope it's not too annoying to you that I said it.  And, yes, I am picturing you as a 10-year-old, embarrassed beyond belief because I tried to kiss you goodbye when I dropped you off at Little League. 

You might not believe me now, but there will come a day, Jake, when your child is suddenly embarrassed to hold your hand around other people, or even at all.  That day is actually one of the worst days of your life.

I think Heather's birthday dinner was a success, in particular the conference call with the Lisinskis.  

Heather, April and I had a nice chat before dinner.  I will admit, we were working hard to keep her out of the dining room so she wouldn't discover the conference phone too early.  But I figured if I asked about her day, and just kept asking questions, we could distract her.  She said that she'd had a peanut butter sandwich after you 2 talked for almost an hour.  I think the peanut butter was in your honor, though maybe Heather was always as much of a peanut butter fiend as you.  I should have thought to ask Joe.  Maybe I will email him with that question.

She told us all about your discussion of the ranching business.  I would have thought that you had other more important topics to discuss, but it is quite sweet how interested she is in the business.  A few of the things she said I'm pretty sure I've never heard either, so it was educational for me.  She specifically said that she likes how you explain things to her and then how the 2 of you discuss those things.

Then she mentioned your stance on teenagers, or at least teenage boys, and how you apologized to her for your future teenagers' behavior.  She said something about "how in 20 years or so when we have teenagers" and then about how she didn't want you to feel like you needed to apologize.  Honestly, I couldn't completely follow her logic.  Sometimes I think Heather thinks so fast I can't keep up with her. 

I panicked a little.  Not just because your love letter was sitting in my purse (my purse was upstairs in our bedroom – she wasn't likely to get anywhere near it) but because April was there, and I know she and Eric are dealing with some disappointment because so far April hasn't been able to conceive.  Heather seemed to be thinking the same thing, and she was trying to get us off that topic but she continued talking about how you shouldn't have to apologize.  So, I just switched the discussion to the story of how you got your name.  I also talked about how we decided on Eric's name. 

You should know that Heather told us she's missing you, and she got a little weepy.  She also got annoyed with herself over it.  I told her she was allowed to miss you, and that it's better that she misses you than that she resigns herself to you being gone.  That seems worse, at least to me.  She also said that you offered to quit your job and get on a plane last week.  I know she turned you down, and I hope you realize that's a sign of how much she loves you.  If she'd accepted the offer, I would be worried.  Since she didn't, I'm not.

Now Jake, why you felt the need to share that Roman Orgy story with Heather, I will never know.  But at least she seemed amused by it.  I however re-lived just how appalled I was at the time it originally happened.  I loved EJ dearly, but that was not his finest moment. 

We had a lovely hour on the conference call with the Lisinskis.  I felt bad that Bonnie was excluded, but Stanley signed a lot of what was being said to her, and she fully participated in the conversation while we were having dinner and birthday cake.  The Lisinskis all seem to be doing well.  Michael sounds very busy as an EMT, and he's also excited about starting medical school in just 2 months.  We got an update on little Megan.  I must admit I had to remind myself to remain calm.  Kerry sounds like such a great mother, and I have no doubt that Heather will be too. 

Okay, I think I am probably getting myself in forbidden territory, so I will sign off for now. 

 

Love Mom

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From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:51 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Sunday Dinner

Attachments:

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Hi Jake,

Dinner was better than I was expecting and not just because of my surprise.  That was a really great surprise, by the way.  I almost typed that the only way it would have been better is if you had called in too, but that's not exactly true.  I got to talk to you for 45 minutes with no one else listening in (that I'm aware of anyway).  I love our families but they do not need to be THAT involved in our life.  As you say, some things are just for us.

I love how our families get along, even though that 2 location/22 person conference call was kind of crazy.  But it was the good kind of crazy, lots of laughter and jokes and good feelings.  April and my dad both said it was your idea to do the call, so thank you for that.  Now all I want for my birthday is my family conference call (that I already got) and my birthday breakfast Skype with my husband (and favorite person in this and any universe) plus hopefully another call or 2 from that same husband.  If that makes me greedy then I guess I'm greedy.

Your email address was a much bigger topic than I would have ever expected it could be especially at a family dinner supposedly in my honor (I'm totally teasing, Hon).  Eric seems a little obsessed with both your email address and job title.  He actually asked me if I knew you were an Agent.  (How could I possibly not know that?)  So, I got to tell him you are actually a Senior Agent, which I then found out is not something you ever bothered to share with your parents.  Your mom is now really wondering why your talents are being wasted driving a truck. (And to be clear she was wondering that before.)  I decided against asking her if she thought you should be doing more Lee Stetson type stuff at work, but that was super hard for me (and it's all your fault, it would never have occurred to me if you hadn't said that's what your parents think your job is in your email).  Also, Lee Stetson totally goes with Cowboy Jake. 

I didn't know that April also uses your DEA email to communicate with you, but she seems to have adopted the same rules I use to figure out which account to email you at.  She said "things that might involve Jake’s real job need to go to the DEA account".  I agreed and then added that I send anything financial to your DEA account.  I probably did a really bad job explaining it, but I told them that your undercover identity has its own financial accounts, so it would be weird if someone were monitoring that email if I emailed you about our finances.  As an example, I finally just told them that I sent everything about the vice principal appointment to your DEA account, at which point your parents and Eric all said that they had emailed you about the promotion at your personal account and Stanley and Bonnie asked "what promotion?"

So that was interesting.  I hope it isn't causing you problems that they all emailed you at your personal account.  I guess as long as they didn't mention the total lack of additional compensation it's fine.  We discussed the promotion on your regular phone after all.  Stanley and Bonnie were very congratulatory, and Stanley had the exact same response as you – he actually asked me if Mrs. McVeigh wanted me to be vice principal so I'd have to fire Mrs. Walker!  Do you guys have a pact about this?  Like "we will not rest until she is forced to retire"?  I really should be appalled by the idea (she is a colleague), but I must admit I'm giggling.  Understand that I have in mind a very specific picture/photo of you 2 from when you were 12 or 13 as I consider how this particular pact came about.  (It's one of the photos in your mom's mini-portrait gallery on the wall between yours and Eric's old bedrooms.  April and I call it "The Wall o' Boys" or sometimes "The Wall o' Gail's Boys".)

Also, I wasn't surprised that Stanley doesn't have your DEA email address, but why doesn't he have your personal email address?  He's your best friend, you guys are allowed to communicate without going through me.  You call each other on the phone, you hang out.  Why don't you email?  I gave it to him and to Bonnie.  So, I figure you will at least get email from her.  (Boy friendships are so weird.)  But at least I now know that there's no way he could have emailed you about yesterday.

OK, I need to back up to the beginning.  Your mom told me to make sure I was there by 5 pm (obviously I now understand that it was for the conference call) but I actually got to your parents' at about 4:20. I took Baron with me, and I came in through the kitchen even though I always immediately shoo him out of the kitchen.  I don't mind having him in the kitchen at the ranch, but I always worry that your mom is going to be bothered, and I have no idea why.  She's literally never said anything.  Anyway, I was going to take him right into the dining room and then to the living room, but April stole the leash from me and said she'd do it.  It was weird, but I figured out later it was because Eric and your dad were setting up the conference phone in the dining room.  I love our family.  They really were dedicated to making the surprise a surprise for me.  It was so incredibly sweet. 

So, I ended up hanging out with your mom and April in the kitchen for a long time.  They were not going to let me leave the room, and they wouldn't let me do anything either, kept reminding me that this dinner was to celebrate my birthday.  They asked what I'd done today and I basically said "Ate a toaster waffle for breakfast and a peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  Took a shower.  Talked to Jake." 

They wanted to know all about our conversation.  Of course, I didn't tell them everything, or even most of it.  But I said that we'd talked about "the incident" and then you had told me about your reasoning for developing Ganymede as a stud and not breeding Callisto until next year.  Also, I somehow ended up telling them about you apologizing for teenagers you really have no influence with (particularly Tom Sharpe) and then moving on to apologize for our future teenagers' behavior.  But I really didn't want to dwell on that too much especially around April. 

She told me yesterday that she'd bitten the bullet and asked Maureen Clement which fertility specialist she'd recommend. (In case you don't know this, Dr. Clement is the only obstetrician/gynecologist in Jericho.  I mostly just go see April as my doctor, but she makes me go see Dr. Clement if it's for my pap smear :-P )  April of course wants to go to somebody at KUMC, but she also wants to make sure they see the best specialist possible so she figured she'd ask Dr. Clement's opinion. 

I know I can talk to April about these things, but until you and I have our chance to talk and make some decisions why should I torture her with our potential future plans, right?  Especially when her plan with Eric has not worked out.  He seems like he's in denial about the fact that she hasn't been able to get pregnant.  Maybe I am being silly, but I just don't want to discuss us having kids with April when we haven't actually made any decisions about timing ourselves.

The odd thing is that your mom totally changed the subject then and told us the story of how you were named Jake (and technically how Eric was named Eric – apparently he was almost named Walter after your maternal grandfather, and that was your dad's idea too.) 

I mean, I was going on about how you don't need to apologize for what our so far nonexistent kids might do 20 years from now, how I don't want you apologizing for that – it's not something where we should assess blame EVER, and I must have been really overanalyzing because they were both giving me that "you're cute when you're splitting hairs on an atomic/subatomic level, Heather" look that I only get from your side of the family.  Of course, my side has had way more years to get used to me, and you've always understood me even when I go off on these tangents (that or you're good at faking it). 

Anyway, your mom suddenly launched into the story.  She did say that you told her I'd like to hear it from her, and April was interested too.  I can't really do it justice in an email, and you've heard it before, I know (but maybe there will be something new in here for you).  Your mom said they debated your name for months, and that she always wanted to name you after your dad, which your dad resisted for a long time.  He was arguing for Walter, but your mom kept pointing out that your cousin Jerry's first name is actually Walter (I did not know that).  Finally, your mom declared that as "she who has to give birth" she got to pick your name.  Your dad could veto but it was her choice.  I guess your dad wasn't quite willing to veto her choice, but he did want you to have a separate identity and not just be called "Junior".  He really felt strongly about that, she said, so I guess that was his hang up all along.  She also said that they'd agreed to call you Jacob but that the week before you were born, he was reading a novel with a character named Jake that he liked (both the character and the book) and so the night before you were born, he said how about Jake instead of Jacob (aww!) and that you (or Eric – hard to say) "kicked in approval". Your mom even said that was when she knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were a boy, you just turned out to be 2 boys.  So it was all decided, and they still thought they had 2 weeks or so until you would be born, but your mom woke him up 4 hours later and told him it was time to go.  :-)  (I asked her the name of the novel and she didn't know.  Then I forgot to ask your dad.) 

Of course, then they had to have the name debate all over again because there were 2 of you.  Walter was discussed again, and your mom almost went with it.  At the last minute she counter-proposed naming Eric after Gramps, and having already gotten her to agree to call you Jacob and then Jake, your dad relented.  I guess your Grandpa Walt also approved, so it was pretty easy to agree on Eric, given that Gramps always went by EJ.  Your mom did say that your dad suggested O'Brien as a first name for Eric but that literally hearing it said out loud (by him), he changed his mind.  I reminded your mom about Mrs. Owensby and Johnston Jr.  and she was extra thankful that she hadn't agreed to the name "O'Brien Jacob Green" given her "drug addled state".  (Also dodged the initials OJ thankfully.)  April then vowed that there will be no Glendenning Green and I also vowed that there will be no Lisinski Green.  Mother's maiden name only works as a first name in very specific cases! 

The really sad part (at least to me) is that your mom told us that if they had had a daughter, they had always known that her name would be Susan, after your dad's sister.  I am not sorry that you're Jake or that Eric is Eric, but I am sorry that your parents didn't get to have a "little Susie".  (And I know Gramps and surely your Grandma Betsy would have loved that.) 

OK, so I'm putting this here strategically so it's not the first thing I tell you about and it's not the last thing I tell you about either.  I don't want you feeling bad about this.  This is just me being honest about how I am feeling, OK?  You said that it freaks you out if I won't tell you how I'm feeling, so I'm telling you.  But you don't need to do anything to fix this.

I got a little misty at that moment.  Part of it was thinking about Gramps and how much he loved his little Susie.  He would have loved having a granddaughter named Susie too.  So, I was thinking about him and how disappointed he and your grandmother must have been when your parents couldn't have more kids.  (Of course, I'm sure your parents were disappointed too.)  And part of it is that I miss you.  I'm supposed to miss you.  If we start not missing each other, that's when we will have a problem.  Your mom even said that to me.  So, I had a moment when I got a little teary, and it's not a big deal.  If April or your mom tell you about it, don't be upset. 

I told them that I miss you.  I even told them that you offered to quit and that you were completely serious about it.  I am 1000% sure if I had said "yes" you would have quit and gotten on the next plane.  So just because I admitted to them that there's a small selfish part of me that I try to keep locked down that was really urging me to tell you yes, you should quit, that doesn't mean that's how the rest of me feels.  100% of me misses you pretty much all the time you're gone.  100% of me loves you all the time.  And 99.5% of me knows that the guy I married has this job that he's good at and enjoys doing, and I'm not going to interfere with that.  So, if you hear about it from either of them, do not feel bad, and don't quit your job, OK?  I'd rather love you all the time, miss you all the time you're gone, but also get to look forward to the time we do get together.  And enjoy the heck out of the time we get, when we get it – that's important too.  :-)  What I don't want is to be married to someone who resents me for being too needy or clingy.

So that happened.  And I really wanted to get us all past it, so I mentioned the Roman Orgy bedtime story to your mom.  Oh my goodness, I have never seen her react like that.  She was pissed!  She couldn't believe that your dad had emailed you about it, and then given permission to share that email with me.  She really didn't understand why I think it is hilarious (and not scandalous/embarrassing).  Finally, I had to tell her that I don't even agree with you about Greek mythology being inappropriate for kids. 

I probably shouldn't admit this – Greek mythology is not specifically on the approved curriculum at the Elementary (but it is also not forbidden) – but I love teaching all the mythologies/epic tales.  And Greek mythology is the best (closely followed by Norse).  8/9-year-old boys love Greek mythology.  You've got the minotaur in the labyrinth, and the Trojan Horse full of Greeks.  You've got Odysseus lashing himself to the mast of his ship so he can hear the Sirens' song without drowning himself – so swashbuckling!  You've got Icarus and his wings.  What's not to love?  And then you get to Dionysus being born out of Zeus's thigh, and little boys (and about half of little girls) are totally into it.  It's both gross and cool.  Kids don't notice all the sex/incest/rape/ violence.  And I do heavily edit, which is exactly what Gramps did.  He wasn't trying to tell you a story that was inappropriate, he was trying to be entertaining.  And I agree Nero and Caligula should be edited/mostly skipped, but I trust us and our family to figure out how to do that.  Now, you might be thinking "who the heck did I marry?", but I definitely put this story in the "for better" column, Jake, promise.  

Besides, you do realize that even when I name foals after celestial objects, half of them still end up named after figures in Greek (or Roman) mythology, right?  Your horse is named Agamemnon.  I know you know the origin of the name!  Your dad is totally allowed to tell our kids stories from Greek mythology.

That was about when Stanley and Bonnie arrived, and I was finally allowed into the dining room.  Not only was it set up with the conference phone (which was so confusing at first) but they'd strung up a "Happy Birthday" sign, and put up balloons, basically all the things your mom does for a birthday dinner.  It's the same sort of thing my mom would have done too, which just makes it that much more meaningful to me.  So even though I keep saying it wasn't a party, maybe it was a birthday party.  I guess we were supposed to call at 5:30, but since we were all ready to go at 5:15, April tried phoning – everyone was gathered at John and Kerry's for dinner this week – and they were all ready to go, so we got started early. 

We talked for over an hour.  Everyone got to tell their news, the kids first, and it was just a lot of fun.  Joey talked for 3 minutes (until John said enough) about his Matchbox/Hot Wheels cars.  Apparently, they all have names and are assigned specific spots in his room, and he was so serious about all of it.  It was adorable.  And Gabby told us about her swim lessons (she went last week and is also going this week).  Deb added that at the end of each lesson the kids are allowed (if they want) to climb up to the high dive and jump off into the 20 feet deep pool, and Gabby always does and then kind of dog paddles to the side and is so happy and proud of herself.  I think I would be a little scared to let my 3-and-a-half-year-old do that, and I said so, and then Andy said something about how the 3rd kid is the expendable one.  (And yes, he got in major trouble for that.  You don't drop babies, and you don't joke about babies accidentally drowning themselves.)

We heard from all the kids (and yes, Rebekah made honor roll once again, so you're right) plus Kerry gave an update on Megan – including telling me that I was required to give you all the details on our goddaughter (as if I wouldn't).  So, she is "sitting up like a champ" and seems to be trying to crawl, though when Kerry said that, John said that she misfires – like she can't coordinate her arms and legs yet.  She'll try to move forward with just her legs and then kind of face plants.  They also said that she is just so happy. Kerry said that last night at dinner she was squealing and then laughing at her own squealing and so they were all laughing (even Joey) every time she laughed.  She said it went on for nearly a half hour.  (She squealed for us and all of us laughed so I know it's true.)  Kerry swears she knows her name now, but everyone else pooh-poohed that.  Well, I believe her, and so did my dad and your parents.  (Your dad even called Megan a "little sweetheart".  I guess my dad sent him some pictures.) But everyone else was skeptical that our goddaughter is so developmentally advanced. (What's wrong with them??) 

After that we got into the adults.  Most interesting was that Mandy is apparently going back to school (this floors me, Mandy has never been the studious type) to get a master's in social work.  But ever since Hannah's been going to preschool (Kindergarten in the fall), Mandy has been volunteering with Catholic Charities in their family services programs (I knew that, but didn't realize it had been 2 years) and she feels like she's found her calling.  They have offered her a part time paid position and she can do that and get her master's at the same time, plus she'll get credit toward her degree for most/all of her work hours, particularly when she's leading training or working with clients.  (I honestly didn't know she'd moved into that kind of role.)  Tommy was kind of quiet about it, so I'm going to email him next to yell at him.  He needs to take a page from your book and put his supportive husband hat on.  Mandy also was so serious in her congratulations to me about the vice principal appointment, plus she was generally complimentary to me both professionally and personally.  I finally asked her if I was dying and were they all now going to say nice things about me before breaking that news to me.  April rolled her eyes and told me I'm not dying, so that's good.

Still, the "everyone say nice things about Heather" part of the evening kept going, and lasted a little too long for my taste, but that's OK.  Just before we ended the call (I wanted to eat) Mikey announced that you have been sending him inappropriate emails.  Eric wanted to know which account you email him from and was annoyed to hear that it was your DEA account.  (I guess he feels like he is the last to know about it? Also, I didn't know that you email Mikey from your DEA account.) 

I was skeptical about this accusation, so I asked what was so inappropriate about your emails and he wouldn't tell me.  I assume that I should chalk this up to one of those "guy things" that I wouldn't understand?  And Mikey's just being a pill, right?  I mean, I don't really think you're actually emailing my brother about inappropriate topics/things.  It was just a weird accusation (and admittedly, he sounded sort of like he was joking), especially as part of my birthday conference call.

The lasagna was delish, the strawberry lemonade cake was really good especially because the strawberries in the middle were perfectly in season.  Your mom made a point of saying that you told her to get it because I liked it, so thank you.  It was really the best family dinner birthday I could have had without you there.  (Don't feel guilty about something that is just a fact, Jake.  I really did have a much better time than I ever thought I would.) 

Dad is very proud about my appointment as vice principal, and he even told me that he can't wait to tell his co-workers/co-volunteers on the Gardens and Grounds team at church about it.  I didn't know he was on the Gardens and Grounds team now.  He says he joined a few months ago.  The head of the team needed help fixing the lawnmower, and then Dad tuned up the weedwhacker for them, and then they asked if he'd like to join officially.  Turns out they are all around his age, and there is one married couple, another widower, and three widows.  So, while I still stand by my claim that my father doesn't specifically chat up widows at church, you are also right in that he's at least going to brag to some of them.  Can we just both be right on this one?  For my birthday? ;-) 

I'm greedy for time together with you, too, which is how I choose to interpret that statement about me blushing only for you.  (I realize there are other ways to interpret that, but we're not getting into that here.)  Looking forward to seeing you, and if I blush, then I blush.  And if me blushing is your goal, I suggest you start planning what you're going to say to me at breakfast, mister!

 

I love you x infinity,

Heather

---

 

---

 From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:17 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Not Work (mostly)

Attachments:

---

Jake,

I can do a call at 1800 on Tuesday.  You might get to say hi to Christopher because we're on our own for another week.  I'll make sure we're home and if I am forced to feed my kid a corn dog and an ice cream sandwich for dinner, he'll be happy about that.

I really am available to you when you need me, but still I appreciated getting to have a family weekend.  Steve's on his way back to DC, probably landing about now, but it was good to have the time.  I know you want that same sort of time with Heather so sorry about my bragging, and I'm very glad to hear that you 2 got the chance for a long-ish talk.

I actually saw your email in time to tell Steve that we had been invited to visit the Green Ranch so he could get a lesson on the horse business.  He was excited – even about your offer to take us riding.  I wasn't expecting that.  It's funny how you can love someone so much and then randomly learn some new aspect of their personality.  I knew he liked to fish, but I didn't know that he had boyhood dreams of being a cowboy.

You're right, he is a nerd – hell, he's a CPA.  But he's also an FBI agent, certified to carry a weapon in the field and he actually has better marksmanship scores than me.  And yes, he likes his puns and his old-fashioned phrases.  It's the weirdest combination and I love it all.  Including the fishing (only thing he has in common with my dad) and the desire to take up horseback riding at 43.     

I'm glad we're friends, Jake. 

I'm awarding the prize to Triplet #3.  You'll find out exactly what that prize is later.  I didn't have Heather's brothers' names because you told me not to contact her, but I will have Triplet #1 (really good at web design) update the site first thing.  I'm also going to have them work on blending the best parts of all their proposals together so we're ready to back you up whenever you start to rachet things up.  We'll have a 2nd draft proposal to you right after Heather's birthday.  Do you need me to do anything to support this plan?  Are you bringing in the rest of your family on the plot to resurrect your grandfather, or just Heather?  I'm not recommending that (seems risky either way), but I can't intercept any of your email without your permission (and even if I could, I wouldn't) and that seems like the thing that could be our biggest headache.  Let me know what I can do to help you. 

Talk to you soon,

Ange

---

 

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 5.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

First a confession.  Although Ben Gunnison is not a real person, I actually feel really bad about what I did to him.  It wasn't really his fault that he suggested a pre-nuptial agreement / pre-marital contract.  It really was mean of me.  Just know that neither Jake nor Heather were very rational in that moment (frankly, neither was Gramps) and so Ben got to endure a little yelling.  His hourly bill rate is quite high, though, so don't feel too bad for him.  (Besides, he is a fictional character, completely from my imagination.)

If you're dying to know exactly what Jake's note / love letter to Heather says, all I can say is that I can't show it to you until Heather gets to see it herself.  But you will get to see it, so please remain patient. :-)  It's coming!

If you are interested in knowing more about horse breeding, I wrote about it (perhaps in a little too much detail) at the end of Long Distance Relationship, Part 3.  Please look there for the information I thought was important enough to share

Ever since Jake's conversation/verbal sparring match with Hawkins while they were trying to put out fire at April's and Eric's house in Federal Response and they both claimed to be "pool guys" I have had in the back of my mind that Jake was a lifeguard at the public pool in Jericho.  I even snuck in an exchange between Hawkins and Jake where Jake says he did his time as a lifeguard at the community center and taught Dale to swim into Different Circumstances, Part 6B.  (I also knew that Eric was a lifeguard at the country club at the same time Jake was lifeguarding at the community pool, I just never managed to work it into the story before now.)  I know none of these details is canon, but – hello! – I'm writing an alternate universe, so there are a lot of non-canon details in this story. 

Jake's reference to Heather kissing 'the M and M boy' is another (non-canon) reference to Heather's former boyfriend, Mark Metzger, who is mentioned in Different Circumstances, Part 5B and encountered (while they are in Buffalo) in Different Circumstances, Part 14G.

Heather and Jake are mostly remembering where 'Jakey' came from correctly.  Stanley is the one who nicknames Jake that in Different Circumstances, Part 11D.  Of course, the nickname really originates with Mindy Henry (non-canon), who refers to Jake as 'Jakey' in Different Circumstances, Parts 4B, 8B, and 12C.  So pretty much every time Mindy has appeared on page in the Different Circumstances saga, and presumably many times before, given her long friendship with Jake and her affinity for the nickname.  If you don't recall, Mindy was the 7 year old who hung around while Jake was washing dishes at The Pizza Garden back in the day.

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

 

 

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

 

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 5

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 350 pages and 7 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.  This is partially an epistolary/letter-writing story (just email rather than snail mail), and there are timestamps on all emails.  Just remember that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so if you are looking at the timestamps and something seems out of order, it probably isn't, as our favorite couple is definitely living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.

 

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

 

---

 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Mon Jun 05 19:09 (UTC+3)

To: Johnston Green (personal)

Subject: Returning the favor

Attachments:

---

 

Here's my unsolicited piece of advice for you.

 

If you eavesdrop on part of a conversation don't assume you know the full story.

 

---

 

---

 

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Mon Jun 05 19:18 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: Your Birthday

Attachments:

---

 

Hey Babe –

The only problem with us talking for 45 minutes last night is that I didn't find an email from you this evening when I logged on.  You've warned me before that if you tell me everything on the phone then I end up with a boring email but I'm still missing hearing from you. I know you probably just went right to bed (hopefully with a detour for a bubble bath) after you got home from your Birthday Dinner Party.  Hope you had a great time.

So tomorrow – I'll Skype you as soon as I can from 5:45 am on.  This is for breakfast so meet me in the kitchen.  Also I fully expect to get to see Mrs. Green wearing her shorts and her official school polo shirt.  So set things up so I can see all of you ok?

Love you

 

Jake

---

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Mon Jun 05 19:43 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: Sunday Dinner

Attachments:

---

 

Mrs. Green

 

Thanks for the long update on your Birthday Dinner.  Sounds like you had a good time.  I wish I could have been there. 

You can mostly ignore the email from the other Jake Green.  I'm just trying to keep the email traffic looking normal for that account.  Mom sent me an email there that I need to answer from this account to be safe.  That's how Eric found out about this account – I was trying to keep him from talking about the vice principal appointment and the lack of raise on my other account. 

I really hate that I have to ask you to send me these stupid emails to prop up my cover story.  Thank you for playing along. 

The conference call wasn't actually my idea.  I told April (from this account) that if I'd been smart I would have talked your dad into flying out to be with you for your Birthday.  I just didn't think of it in time.  That gave April the idea to arrange the conference call.  And Kerry was the one who called everyone in Buffalo because birthdays are very important to her.  Nice of April and your Dad to give me the credit but it was them plus Kerry and Deb.  They convinced Mike to take a whole 24 hours off from work too.

I can claim credit for suggesting the cake so I'm glad you liked it. 

I know how to email Stanley but he doesn't check his that often and I'm not sure what I'd email him about.  After I'm back for a month or so we'll go get a beer and watch a baseball game or something while you spend some time with April.  Stanley and I will be fine.  We always are.  There's no pact re: Mrs. Walker but no way we imagined when we were 12 that she'd still be alive now let alone still teaching 6th grade.

I generally like your tangents Mrs. Green, the more subatomic the better.  Though they do tend to make me want to kiss you (and other stuff).

I knew most of the story about how Eric and I got named but I didn't know that I almost had a brother O'Brien.  You're right Mrs. Owensby would have loved that.  The novel was probably by Louis L'Amour or some other Western novelist.  Cowboy Jake rides again.

I like my mom's rule for naming kids.  You ("she who has to give birth") can pick their names and I will have a veto.  I know we already agreed on Abigail Renate and definitely no Johnston Jacob III, but we're going to have more than one kid right?  And I will veto naming our son Abigail.  So would my mom I bet.

Ok we can tell our kids stories from Greek mythology.  You're going to have to go first so I can see how exactly to edit the stories so they are kid appropriate.  But you probably already have 4 different picture books of Greek myths for babies right?

Glad to hear that everyone in Buffalo is good.  I hope you gave Tommy hell.  If Mandy wants to make a career of helping people he needs to find that supportive husband hat.  Loved the update on Megan – of course she's advanced.  We can both be right about your Dad and not just because it's your Birthday.

As for Mike I sent him a congratulatory email.  He wrote back to yell at me for abandoning you and told me about you wanting him to come visit you.  He also suggested that we should have a kid so you'd stop mothering/big sistering him.  I told him he was crazy if he thought that would be enough to distract you from looking after your favorite baby brother.  I told him I'd buy him a plane ticket to come meet his new niece or nephew when the time came.  I may have mentioned bonus points.  He may have taken this to mean I was bragging about something I'm not allowed to brag about to him.  That's his "inappropriate email".  And it is a guy thing. 

I guess Dad heard part of your conversation with Mom and April.  Don't worry about it but he's like Mike – thinks I've abandoned you.  Dad actually said I was ruining through neglect the most important relationship I have.

Remember if you start to feel abandoned or neglected let me know and I will quit and be on that next plane.  I am a million times more interested in being married to you than I am in this job.

 

>> What I don't want is to be married to someone who resents me

>> for being too needy or clingy.

 

I don't worry about you being needy or clingy. I worry that you'll get fed up and decide you don't need me at all.  You cling to me any time you want. 

I'll see you soon.  18 hours til our Skype date.  I can't wait.

Love love love you

 

Cowboy Jake

---

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Mon Jun 05 19:57 (UTC+3)

To: Gail Green

Subject: Heather's birthday

Attachments:

---

Mom

Heather says the existence of my work email was a big topic of debate at her birthday dinner.  You're all smart people so it's weird that you didn't realize I have work email.  I have a whole work computer network that I use too.

I'm emailing you from my work account mostly to let you know that I try to keep "Lisinski" out of my personal account right now.  Not your fault that you sent me an email that mentioned them but if you need to tell me something about the Lisinskis it's better to use this email.  Right now my other email is tied to a guy named Jake Green who married someone named Heather Lind. 

But at this email address I'm me and I'm definitely married to Heather Lisinski Green. 

Thanks for everything you did to make her birthday dinner special, and to pull off the surprise.  She really loved it all.

You don't have to email Joe about peanut butter.  Heather liked it before she met me but I have convinced her it's the food of the gods – her words.  So we're 2 peanut butter fiends who will probably have peanut butter fiend kids. 

Heather really is going to be the best Mom.  It'll be a challenge to keep up with her but I'll sure try.  Sometimes it's a challenge to keep up with her in a conversation but she seems to think I do all right.  Remember that time Eric said that Heather was dating me because she likes a challenge?  I think that runs both ways with us.  We both like the challenge and the conversation.  And some other things.

 

Love Jake

---

 

---

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Mon Jun 05 20:32 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: Not Work (mostly)

Attachments: redirect_email.txt

---

 Ange

 

I'd probably eat a corn dog and an ice cream sandwich for dinner and call it good too.  I'm not going to bust you for how you feed your kid.  Though for you and my mother I'd try to work in a vegetable.  Good? 

We look forward to hosting the Wallers on the Green Ranch.  So we better work on getting this investigation closed and some arrests made right?

I told Gretchen that there was no way she or Mellie could fake emails or calls from Heather.  But I am willing to have you try and fake some emails from the rest of my family.  I email with them but it's not like it is with Heather. 

I've attached a list of email addresses that I'm authorizing you to redirect from my personal account (I'll be getting a new one once this op is over) to both of our DEA accounts.  I should still be reading the email that comes from my family and you can use the parts that make sense when you start constructing those "Gramps took a turn for the worse" emails.

This week my mom and my brother both sent me emails that I'm just going to have to hope fall through any Ravenwood filters.  I've thrown all my in laws' email addresses on the list too.  They don't send me email that often but half their email addresses contain the wrong (and real) last name – Lisinski instead of Lind.  Heather's dad and 3 (Andy, John and Mike) of her 4 brothers (Tommy couldn't make it because of work) came from Buffalo to KS for my grandfather's funeral so if I get email from the Lisinskis you can assume that the Linds would send me the same and mention something about him.  They mostly referred to him as EJ.    

I think that's it.  We can talk about anything else that comes up on Tuesday/Wednesday.

 

Jake

---

 

---

 From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Mon Jun 05 12:46 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Shiny Object Op / GTolliver Guarantee

Attachments: JakeGreenStatus_060530.msg

---

 Jake,

 

Please think about changing subject lines when you email me.  I'm going to assume that since we're friends, you're not going to sue the DEA or me (personally) for intercepting your email even though the subject of the email granting me permission to do so is literally "Not Work". (Taking off my bureaucrat hat now.)

Attached is the email from Gretchen guaranteeing that I have final decision about your field status and I don't have to justify any of my decisions ahead of time.  My Spidey Sense is now Mom Spidey Sense, but I promise not to have too itchy of a trigger finger.  Just itchy enough to keep you from dying/almost dying.

I'm intercepting email from all designated addresses now so keep that in mind.  For now, I will just pass all email through (without reading) to your personal account. When you reply those emails will come back to me first so in the future I can scrub any mentions of Gramps out.  That's adorable by the way.  I called my grandfather Grampy, so that's probably why I like it.  For some reason my dad wants Christopher to call him Pops.  Things to think about as you get ready to have a kid. 

Let me know when you let Heather know about Gramps's decline.  Would it be helpful if one of your parents was the first person to email you and let you know?  Instead of Heather?  We could also have Gretchen call you and be your mom if you think that would work better.

 

Ange

---

 

---

 From: Gail Green

Sent: Mon Jun 05 13:22 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Heather's birthday

Attachments:

---

Jake Honey,

 

I feel a little silly typing that to you at your work email, especially now that I know you're a Senior Agent.  Sorry for mentioning the Lisinskis in my earlier email.  I don't quite understand it all but I assume you are trying to keep Heather safe and/or allow her some privacy, and I heartily approve of that.

Congratulations on being promoted to Senior Agent, though I got the impression that it's not a new thing?

You know that we were and are happy to do anything that helps Heather celebrate her birthday.  We love Heather and just want her to be happy.  We want you both to be happy together.  So of course, we're going to do whatever we can to celebrate her.  You are welcome.  And thank you for your thank you, as silly as that is to say.  I'm glad that we pulled off the surprise and that she loved it.  She's going to love tomorrow's surprises even more.

Just so you know, you shouldn't give peanut butter to small children.  It's a choke food, and if you give it to them too early, they might develop a peanut allergy.  You can give them peanut butter when they're a little older (eating solid food) if you add water to creamy peanut butter to thin it out, but chunky or thick peanut butter and peanuts themselves are very dangerous.  I didn't know all this when you were a little boy (and you survived), but it's covered in the course I sometimes teach on New Baby Basics.  Still, I think you're right, your children will probably be peanut butter fiends. 

I'm not going to comment on the rest.  Just know that it makes me happy.  Now I better get going.  I have some errands to run.  You know the 2 most important.  Then I will head out to the ranch.

 

Love,

 

Mom

 

---

 

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

 

Monday June 5, 3:51 pm (Jericho KS)

 

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

"Hi sweetheart," Gail Green called out in greeting to her daughter-in-law as soon as Heather opened her car door.  Climbing out of the driver's seat, Heather waved, and then ducked back into the Trailblazer to retrieve her purse, backpack, lunch bag and travel mug.  "So, how has your last day as a twenty-six-year-old been so far?" Gail asked, moving from her own open car door to stand next to Heather's.

"It's been fine," Heather answered, juggling her belongings.  "We did our final, final, absolute last academic activity of the year today.  The all caps 'LAST SPELLING TEST OF THE YEAR'," she laughed.  "Now it's just Field Day, and the end of year awards ceremony, and then the last day of school.  We've still got three chapters to read in our last book – The Borrowers – and we'll just play games if we still have time to fill."

"But how has your day been, Heather?" Gail wanted to know.

Her daughter-in-law sighed.  "Really, I'm just trying to get through today and to tomorrow," she admitted, her lips twisting as if they couldn't decide between a smile and a frown.  "Jake and I have a breakfast date on Skype first thing.  I'm pretty much just waiting for that to roll around."  She checked her watch, shaking her head at herself.  "That's in fourteen hours."

"Well, I can understand that," Gail consoled, squeezing the younger woman's arm.

"But hey, I have leftover lasagna and birthday cake to eat," Heather declared, though to Gail her cheerful tone sounded forced.  "Thank you for that.  And I need to fill out all my awards certificates for Wednesday.   So, I'll do that and check my email."  Gail nodded.  They both knew whose email she was going to be looking for.  "Maybe go to bed early for once."

"That sounds like a good plan."

Ten minutes earlier, about to turn off of Spruce Street onto Route Nine, Heather had pulled up behind Gail and honked to get her attention.  They had waved at each other, and then Heather had followed her mother-in-law out to the ranch.  Gail had parked on the narrowest part of the circular driveway, preventing Heather from passing her.  "I'm okay, right?" she asked, frowning softly and pointing toward the garage.  "You weren't going to pull into the garage, I hope."

"I almost never park in the garage." This time, her quiet chuckle was definitely genuine.  "Maybe if it's snowing, and I don't want to have to clear my car before I leave in the morning.  And even that seems wimpy," she continued.  "Growing up the garage was for working on cars, not for parking them.  And being from Buffalo, I know how to clear snow off a car."

"I'm sure," Gail acknowledged warmly. 

"I've got both trucks in the garage anyway," Heather offered.  "There's room for my car, but it starts to feel a little crowded," she shrugged. 

The garage had space for four vehicles, plus a workshop and a generous storage area, but Gail suppressed a smile, opting instead to nod in agreement.  "I just wanted to be sure I wasn't putting you out."

"Never," Heather declared, closing the Trailblazer's door and walking with Gail up to her car. 

"Because I could pull around, if you need me to," her mother-in-law offered, opening the door to the back seat and extracting a small, white bakery box.

"Completely unnecessary," Heather returned before inquiring, "And, what is that?"

"Your birthday cake," Gail answered.

Heather's expression was puzzled.  "You already gave me a birthday cake," she reminded.  Gail had insisted on sending leftover cake as well as lasagna home with her the night before, and Heather had insisted on dividing both in half, so Gail and Johnston could have some too.  "It was delicious, and I've got at least three pieces left."

"Well, that cake was from Johnston and me, and this one is from Jake," she explained, grabbing her purse off the front seat of her Le Sabre. 

"But he knew you were getting me a cake," Heather argued as they started up the short flagstone walk that ran between the driveway and the front porch.  "He even told you what flavor to get.  Why would he think I'd need another one?"

"That is the million-dollar question," her mother-in-law returned, chuckling.  "But he was very insistent.  Besides, he placed his order first, then told me it had to be picked up and delivered this afternoon.  Couldn't wait until tomorrow.  And I couldn't combine it with my order either.  You had to have a whole cake all for yourself," she listed off.  "He has a very specific plan, and I've been ordered to not interfere."

"Hmm," Heather acknowledged, fighting a smile.  "Sounds like he's up to something, especially if there's a 'plan', but I can't even imagine what it is," she laughed.

"I agree with you," his mother nodded, "And I don't know anything beyond the one or two bits he's recruited me to assist with.  And I wasn't even supposed to tell you that much," she confessed, making an exasperated noise.

"Your secret is safe with me," Heather promised as they mounted the first of the three porch steps together. "Particularly the part about there being another bit of the plan."

"Well, really," Gail groused gently.  "You weren't supposed to hear that part, Heather," she complained, chuckling.  She watched as the younger woman fitted her key into the front door's deadbolt lock.  "And you know, he just wants to make sure you have the best birthday possible.  Since he's not here to celebrate with you.  'Fun surprises', he said."

"I know," she replied, stepping into the foyer and, after depositing her things on the hall table just inside the door, disarming the security alarm.  "I know that," she repeated, frowning.  "So, thank you for helping with his plan," she declared, trying to force a smile though it didn't have staying power. 

Heather's eyes suddenly flooded with tears and she looked down and away, unable to face her mother-in-law.  "I – he's – he keeps apologizing for everything.  He tells me he's sorry for missing my birthday, and he's sorry for what happened on Saturday, and he's sorry that this assignment is taking so long," she grumbled, shaking her head.  "He pre-apologizes for our kids that we haven't even decided when to have yet.  He – he spends half his time apologizing, like he's responsible for – for everything that happens.  I could – I could burn down the house," she proclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, "And he'd probably apologize for that.  And I – I just hate it."

Gail nodded.  "I know, sweetheart," she acknowledged, turning to carefully place the bakery box on the hall table next to Heather's lunch bag.  "I got that impression – that's what you were saying last evening," she reminded, reaching for Heather's hand and squeezing it.  This, she realized, was what her daughter-in-law had really been trying to tell her the day before, and she hadn't fully understood – maybe she still didn't – until this moment.

Heather, though, didn't seem to have heard her.  "He spends the other half of his time making sure that – that I'm not – I'm not about to – to leave him," she confessed, her voice tightening as if it choked her to even say those words.  "Which I'm not," she vowed.  "I would never, ever do that."

"Of course not," Gail murmured, still holding her daughter-in-law's hand tightly in her own.

"And – and then he spends the other half of his time making sure I know how much he loves me.  That part I don't mind," she admitted a beat later, swiping her arm across her eyes.  "And I know that doesn't make sense mathematically," she concluded, emitting a shaky giggle.  "But …."

"Actually, it does," Gail argued, once she could catch her daughter-in-law's eye.  "It makes sense mathematically.  To me, anyway.  When he apologizes.  When he worries that he's – that he's alienating you," she decided.  "He's also telling you that he loves you.  One hundred percent of the time, that's what he wants you to know – to hear.  It underlies everything.  Or overlies everything.  I don't know which way makes sense," she sighed.  "But still, it makes sense to me."

"That makes sense to me, too," Heather sniffled quietly a moment later.  "Underlie, I think.  Like a base.  And it is – it's good to know it – that he loves me – but better to hear it, right?" she declared, clearing her throat.  "He said that you told him that."

"I did," his mother verified.  "The night before your wedding."

Chewing her lip for a moment, Heather nodded, assimilating that bit of information.  "I do like hearing it," she declared.  "And – and he didn't quit his job, at least.  I mean, he can quit his job.  But I don't want him quitting because he thinks it's what I want.  That he has to because I can't handle things.  I can handle things," she insisted.  "And if he wants to quit it should be because he'd like that better."  She paused a moment, frowning to herself.    "So, if this is his big plan for my birthday….  I mean, it's just a cake, right?"

"Chocolate Kahlua," Gail confirmed, forcing herself to not respond to anything else Heather had said, and – most importantly – to not even suggest to Heather that the cake was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg when it came to Jake's plan for her birthday.  She was under orders to "be calm" after all. 

"Jake wanted to make sure you had one all for yourself, since it's your favorite.  I was going to get you the same one for last night, and he said that was okay, but he also suggested the strawberry lemonade cake, so I took the hint.  And he insisted that I had to get it here this afternoon," she reiterated, shaking her head and smiling.  "Not tomorrow.  Today.  And I have absolutely no idea why."

"This is what he was snippy about last week?" Heather guessed, the smallest of grins once again gracing her lips. 

"'Just stick to the plan, Mom.'  That's what he wrote in his email.  The gist anyway," his mother recalled.  "But I think he's tired, and under a bit of a strain.  And he did apologize for his attitude," Gail assured.  "It's okay, not the first time I've dealt with an out-of-sorts Jake."

Heather frowned, her expression clouding over instantly.  "He's really is tired.  Whenever we talk, he just sounds so tired.  And stressed.  Both of his jobs are so hard," she cataloged.  "And – and – I don't know."   She paused for a moment before confessing, "We've talked four, five times in the last week, and he just sounds exhausted.  But when we're talking, I'm so happy that I can't make myself get off the phone.  Well, the last time I did," she corrected.  "Because he needed to go, and right then he couldn't make himself hang up."

"Jake wants to talk to you as much as you want to talk to him," his mother reminded.

"I know.  It's just … he doesn't need to worry about me," she decided.  "And we only talked so much because he is worried about me," Heather admitted.  "Well, I called him one of the times, just because I wanted to hear his voice.  But then I made him worried.  That was so stupid of me," Heather complained, wiping at her eye.  "Because he really shouldn't worry about me.  I don't want him to worry about me.  He needs to concentrate on what he's doing. He – he needs to figure that mess out and come home."

"'Figure that mess out'?" Gail repeated, her forehead wrinkling.

"That's what Jake says.  He calls his investigation 'that mess'," she explained.  "And that's what he needs to concentrate on.  The investigation and not on worrying about how I'm doing.  I'm – I'm getting along.  And I'll be fine until he can come home."

"Sweetheart—"

"Uhhh," Heather groaned, hiding her face behind her hands for a moment.  "I'm sorry," she sighed a moment later, glancing at her mother-in-law, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and guilt.  "I'm sorry for going 'bleh' on you with all that," she apologized, gesturing with her arms as if she'd handed her mother-in-law all her burdens.  "And you don't need to worry about me either.  I shouldn't have told you all that," she insisted.  "But I'm fine, I promise."

"Well, I worry about everyone I love," Gail countered, offering her daughter-in-law a smile.  "Which includes you.  It's in the mother's job description.  So don't ever think you need to apologize for how you're feeling, Heather.  Not to me.  Though," she continued a half-breath later, "Please avoid burning the house down.  This is a very nice house, and you and Jake have put a lot of work into it over the last few years.  I would really hate for anything to happen to it."

"Trust me, I'm really not planning to test my hypothesis," Heather returned, "'Cause I love this house, too.  Besides, we've always said it's where we want our kids to grow up," she continued, her voice hitching slightly in hesitation.  "As – as presumptuous as that is – or was, anyway."

"Hardly presumptuous," her mother-in-law chuckled, shaking her head at the thought.  "I knew exactly what EJ was up to from the moment he mentioned his plan.  And then he admitted it outright – and not just to Johnston and me, but to your dad too.  He wanted to be sure that once he was gone there'd still be Greens living on the Green Ranch."  Gail smiled.  "I don't know if you've noticed," she teased, "But there is a strong – if subtle – streak of sentimentality that I happen to believe is passed along on the 'Y' chromosome in this family."

Heather laughed softly. "I am aware.  Though, it's not always subtle," she argued.  "And, maybe it's not sex specific.   Maybe it's just in the Green genes, male or female.  Which is a hypothesis I won't mind getting the opportunity to test," she joked, a rosy blush infusing her cheeks.  "Hopefully.  At some point."

"I hope so too," Gail assured, biting her tongue to hold back everything else she wanted to say on the subject.  She surprised her daughter-in-law then by pulling her into a hug, repeating, "I hope so too."

"Okay," Heather nodded a long moment later, taking a step back.  "I think I'm gonna go see if I can find my puppy, then get a drink – maybe a snack – and then we can get to work?"

"Sounds good," Gail agreed.

Her daughter-in-law turned and headed toward the family room and – Gail assumed – the back deck, which wrapped around three sides of the house and was where Baron's outside bed, food and water were kept.  Gail retrieved the cake from the hall table and carried it into the kitchen, leaving it on the counter beside the refrigerator, before returning to the foyer to retrieve Heather's lunch bag and travel coffee mug.

Heather came into the kitchen about five minutes later, Baron hot on her heels, just as Gail finished washing up the containers from her lunch bag.  "I hope you don't mind," Gail said, placing a Tupperware bowl in the drying rack.

The younger woman laughed.  "I really don't mind doing dishes.  But I also really don't mind when other people do them for me," Heather replied.  "So, thank you for that."  She was carrying a small plastic pail, and she showed Gail the contents.  "Figured I'd feed the chickens and gather the eggs while I was outside.  If you need any, please take them," she instructed, moving to the refrigerator.  "I can only eat so much egg salad," she groaned, adding the five eggs to the dozen and a half that were already on the shelf in the fridge.

"Thank you, honey.  I will take you up on that," Gail promised, drying her hands with a dish towel.  "Johnston loves a fried egg sandwich for breakfast, though I know it's not exactly good for him," she grumbled.  "When you're gone in July," she asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her, "Are you going to need me to take care of the chickens too?"

"Oh no," Heather answered, shaking her head.  "That's way above and beyond.  I already drastically overpay Eddie to clean out the coop for me every month or so – it's one of the few things Jake has ever given me a hard time about," she admitted, her tone turning rueful. 

"He gives you a hard time about that?" his mother demanded, frowning softly. 

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that," Heather giggled, flashing Gail an amused grimace.  "It's more of an inside joke.  Jake's just always hated the chickens, and he couldn't quite believe it that Gramps left them to me along with a whole bank account to be used for their upkeep.  He calls it 'EJ's Evil Chicken Endowment'.  I'm pretty sure he was looking forward to getting rid of 'em, and then he couldn't."

"I see," Gail snorted, shaking her head.  "I really think EJ couldn't resist taking one last opportunity to tweak Jake," she offered.  "He loved him, but…."

"He also knew how to needle him.  And Jake needled him right back, especially about the chickens.  Because Gramps really was strangely devoted to them."

"Well, the chickens were always Betsy's domain," Gail told her.  "But when she died, EJ didn't want to get rid of them, so he went all in.  Which I suppose is exhibit 'A' – or rather 'C' – in the case for the Green sentimentality streak."

"Yeah," the younger woman agreed.  "Or exhibit 'B' – for Betsy."

"I think you're probably right about that."

"I like the chickens," Heather declared, "But I'm not really interested in cleaning out the coop, and Gramps knew that.  I'm a city girl," she reminded, "I'm happy to feed 'em and collect eggs, but Gramps left the money for the them, and I'm gonna take advantage of it for the yuckier aspects, anyway.  That's what Jake gives me a hard time about.  That I was so freaked out about the money until it suited my purposes.  And I pretty much deserve that."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I also think you can hold your own with Jake."

Heather shrugged.  "When he comes home, he can make fun of me about the chickens every day, and I won't care one bit.  As for July, I'm just gonna overpay Eddie some more.  You taking Baron for me is more than enough."

"I'll enjoy having a dog again for a bit," her mother-in-law assured.  "I don't know why we've gone so long without one.  Except that when Charley died the first year the boys were in college, we thought maybe we shouldn't be tied down by a pet."

"Well, don't forget Baron is partially yours – your grandpuppy, right?" Heather teased, calling the dog to her.  She petted him, scratching behind his ears.  "You're gonna stay with Grandma and Grandpa, aren't ya?  And, you're gonna have lots of fun," she informed the Labrador.  "And I sound crazy," she laughed, glancing at Gail.

"Not at all," the older woman contradicted.  "We are going to have lots of fun together."

"He really is Jake's dog," Heather sighed, "But I don't quite know what I'd do without him right now."

"Jake's dog, but your puppy," Gail suggested, smiling.

Exactly!" Heather declared, continuing, "Anyway, I'm gonna tell Eddie to take any eggs that he and Tony can use.  But I'm sure there'll be extras, so I'll have him leave them in the garage refrigerator so you can pick them up when you're out here.  April too," she decided, nodding to herself.  "I'll make sure to tell her that."

"That's very sweet of you," her mother-in-law acknowledged.  "So do you know yet where Jake's taking you this time?"

"Not yet.  It'll be somewhere by the ocean, of course.  And he did say we're staying in a condo with a full kitchen.  I've promised to make peanut butter cookies for him, and he's promised me pancakes, all three Saturdays.  Pretty sure I'll make him cookies multiple times."

"I think I could have guessed that," Gail laughed.  "That Jake would want a kitchen so he could have peanut butter cookies, I mean.  And that you'd want pancakes."

"Yeah, we are a little bit predictable in that arena, huh?"  Heather giggled.  "As for where we're going, I'm supposed to find out tomorrow, though it's not a birthday present," she emphasized.  "I just kept bugging him about it, and finally he said he'd tell me on my birthday.  Which is way better than our honeymoon," she reminded.  "I didn't find out where we were going until we were literally on the hotel shuttle to the airport.  He figured he had to tell me then because they might not let us on the plane if I didn't know where I was flying to."

His mother tutted gently in sympathy, but she smiled, too.  "That was a little extreme, but we all know that he likes to surprise you every so often."

"Yep," Heather grinned.  "Flowers and vacations and occasionally turning up unannounced when I'm totally not expecting him to," she listed.  "And it's always a good surprise – always makes my day or my week," she declared.    "If he showed up now, it'd make my year, but I know that's not gonna happen.  So, I will just be happy with a birthday cake I really don't need.  Speaking of, should I put this in here?" she asked, pointing first at the bakery box and then at the refrigerator.

"Yes," Gail agreed, "But I don't think it was something Jake thought you needed, just something he wanted you to have.  A nice to have.  Because he's thinking about you and loves you.  And take a look at it first.  It's a Chocolate Kahlua cake," she reminded.  "Jake ordered it with purple writing—"

"My favorite color," she murmured.

"But it really didn't show up well on the cake.  And I – well, I threw a bit of a fit," her mother-in-law confessed.  "Because I knew it was important to him.  So, I made them scrape the purple lettering off, then add some cream cheese frosting in the middle so they could redo the lettering in purple and you could actually see it.  Sharon McBee really didn't know what to do.  She's not used to the mayor's wife out-complaining her."

"That's funny."  If there was one person in Jericho, universally known to be high strung, it was Sharon McBee.  But she was a wonder with a whisk, and most people only ever had to deal with her in short bursts, so she tended to get away with being difficult.  Heather had untaped and opened the box while her mother-in-law had been talking, and pulling the lid back, she got her first look at the cake.  "It's really nice, thank you.  And actually, cream cheese frosting on top of Chocolate Kahlua cake?  That sounds even better – and it's already really good."

"Well, I wanted you to see it now, in case the frosting runs or bleeds in the fridge," Gail explained, starting to move toward her purse that she'd left hanging on a chair at the table.  "Let me just take a picture to send to Jake, and then you can put it away."

"He demanded proof?" the younger woman asked, her tone incredulous.

"No," Gail laughed, crossing the kitchen, camera in hand.  "But I figure it's better to be safe than sorry.  Now, let me get a picture of you with the cake," she suggested after she'd taken two close-ups of the cake in the box.

"If you insist," Heather agreed, picking up the box and tilting it as much as she dared so that both the cake and her own head would be visible in the photograph. 

"Thank you," Gail murmured, moving to return her camera to her purse.  "If I do need to send proof, that'll be the one." 

"I'm gonna make some coffee," her daughter-in-law decided after re-boxing the cake and putting it away in the refrigerator.  "Would you like some?  I mean, I know you're here to work—"

"I really don't have that much to do," Gail argued.  "Just the paperwork from yesterday, plus the last round from Saturday.  I already took care of everything else.  Well, I should make out a check for Stanley," she realized, "I don't want him to have to wait.  But my most important task for the day was to deliver that cake, actually," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.  Heather would know about her actual "most important task" soon enough.  "And, a cup of coffee would be lovely, especially if there's a chat to go along with it."

"Sure," Heather agreed readily, smiling as she moved to the 'coffee station' on the counter and began to put things together to make a pot of coffee.  "I just don't want to keep you if you need to get home."

"Monday night," Gail reminded, seating herself at the long farmhouse table.  "Johnston is at the town council meeting until who knows when.  My only plans for tonight are leftovers and maybe watching a little Jeopardy."

"In that case, do you want to have your leftovers here?" her daughter-in-law suggested, glancing back over her shoulder.  "I'm pretty sure you're planning the same leftovers as me, and you gave me more than enough for two.  I can make a salad," she offered.  "It would be nice to have company for dinner is all.  And I'm sure Baron would love a night off from me trying to engage him in conversation," she joked.

"I'd love to stay and have dinner with you."

"Great," Heather declared, returning to the task of setting up the coffee to brew.

"Sweetheart," Gail said a moment later, her tone turning quizzical.  "Didn't there used to be a doggy door there?" she asked, pointing at the side door that was visible through the open door into the mud/laundry room.  Baron took this as direction and wandered into the mudroom, where he lapped halfheartedly at his water bowl for a few seconds.

"There did," her daughter-in-law agreed, pressing the 'brew' button on the coffee machine before turning around.  "But that was literally the first thing to go when Jake had the security company come out and evaluate the house," she explained, shaking her head.  "The head guy took one look at it, said 'Aw hell no,' and sent one of the junior guys out to crawl back in through it.  He was the biggest of the three – like, Stanley's size – and he crawled right in.  Took like ten seconds, and he was in the house.  Jake had them install a new door later that day.  They were here until after ten that night.  And then, we picked that door from their catalog and they put it in a week or two later."

"And in two years I just never noticed?"       

"Uh, I guess so?" Heather replied, making a face.  With the coffee started, she moved toward the refrigerator, retrieving a container of dog treats from on top, and calling Baron to her.  She squatted down to give him two treats, a head rub and a quick kiss on his snout.  "Jake found them," she offered, standing.  "And Baron loves 'em.  They're peanut butter."

Gail laughed.  "He told me he'd turned you into a peanut butter fiend, but he didn't say that Baron was too." 

"I've always liked peanut butter," Heather contended, "But it's easier to live with Jake if you just go with the full-on peanut butter fiendishness.  And he goes along with my coffee fiendishness.  Though I'm not saying he isn't easy to live with," she added, holding up a hand to forestall an argument her mother-in-law had no intention of making.   "It's probably harder for Jake to live with me than it is for me to live with him."

"I don't think that's true at all," Gail disagreed.  "Sometimes, I think you're the only other person he wants around.  He just puts up with the rest of us because he has to."

"Or because you raised him right."

"He's being polite?" his mother chuckled, "Well, I guess I can accept that."

"I meant that he values family.  We talk about family a lot, and sure we spend a fair amount of time debating which side – the Greens or the Lisinskis – is wackier—" 

"We certainly have our moments," Gail agreed, still chuckling.

"Well, usually all I hafta do is remind Jake that Tommy is a Lisinski and he'll concede victory – or defeat, I'm really not sure," Heather laughed before allowing a soft sigh.  "But family is important to Jake.  I'm not the only one he wants to be around," she argued.  "More evidence of the subtle side of that Green sentimental streak."

"True.  But he still wants to spend his time with you most of all."  The softest of blushes brightened the younger woman's cheeks, prompting Gail to quickly add, "Which is just as it should be.  But still, I'm going to keep insisting on the Green family Sunday dinner."

"And we'll be there," her daughter-in-law promised, giggling self-consciously.  "As soon as he's back." 

"Thank you, honey," Gail sighed, deciding, "But I'll let you off the hook for the first week at least.  It's only right."  Her gaze drifted back to the replaced door and she shook her head.  "I can't believe it took me this long to notice," she complained.

"It was a bit of a sore subject, between Jake and Johnston," Heather reminded, frowning softly.  "I just left it alone.  I mean, a six foot, two-hundred-pound guy crawled into my house through a doggy door.  I wasn't gonna argue about giving up the convenience of having one after that.  They actually replaced all the exterior doors," she admitted, "Including the slider in the family room.  That's why it was so expensive."

"I wish he'd just explained that," Gail groaned.

Without commenting, Heather moved to the sink to wash her hands.

"You don't think Jake should have to explain himself," her mother-in-law inquired when Heather turned around. 

"You know what Jake says about the whole security thing?" Heather asked rhetorically.  "Mostly he says, 'you think they would just be happy that I love my wife and want her to be safe'.  I'm good with how he explains himself."

"Well, it's certainly hard to argue with that," Gail decided, feeling chastened.  "He emailed me earlier today," she continued a moment later.  "From his work email.  Mainly to tell me not to write to him about the Lisinskis on his personal account.  Which I assume is also a matter of security or privacy – maybe both?"

"Both, probably.  The fake version of me has the maiden name 'Lind'.  And, yes, there is a fake version of me," she grumbled.  "On paper anyway."  Gail watched as her daughter-in-law walked back to the 'coffee station' and retrieved two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee maker.  "Because Jake figures that there probably aren't too many Heather Lisinskis in the world.  And even if there are – or were – like, five of us, we probably didn't all marry Jake Greens," she shrugged.

"So that helps maintain your privacy."

"Security, too," Heather said, moving to retrieve a small carton of half-and-half from the refrigerator.  "Turns out there are analysts at the DEA who manufacture paper trails to go with undercover agents' cover stories.  So now there's a marriage license for a Heather Lind and a Jake Green filed in Wilson County, Kansas for a week after we actually got married." 

"Why Wilson County?" her mother-in-law inquired.

"Buffalo, Kansas is in Wilson County," Heather answered, crossing the room to place the half-and-half on the table.  "That was Jake's idea.  I pointed out that we didn't get married in Buffalo, and he just said that now the other version of us had."  This drew a chuckle from Gail, and Heather, fighting a smile, shook her head.  "But having a fake marriage license out there – a fake maiden name – all the other details that have been altered so he's the 'other Jake Green'," she shrugged.  "All of that means we can stay in touch without the targets of his investigation knowing who or where exactly I really am, so…."

"Well, Jake 'loves you and wants you to be safe'," his mother quoted back to her.

"Yes," Heather agreed, pressing her lips together tightly. 

Gail could tell that her daughter-in-law had more to say and so kept silent, waiting Heather out, even when the younger woman distracted herself by crossing the room to pour their cups of coffee. 

"I love him, too," she said, her voice cracking softly.  "And I want him to be safe," she added, placing a mug in front of her mother-in-law.  "That's what the cover story is about – the fake marriage license, the empty bank account, the financial troubles.  It all has to look plausible.  Because if anyone there were to get suspicious about me – google me and realize that Heather Lind never existed, but Heather Lisinski does – or did – and that she married Jake Green, senior agent with the DEA—"  She shook her head.  "Well, I'm not the one who's unsafe.  Jake is."

Heather seated herself, reaching for the carton of half-and-half.  She played with it for a moment, opening and then closing the mouth of the container, before finally reopening it and pouring a splash into her coffee.  She would not meet Gail's eye.  "He doesn't want me to know that, but I'm not stupid," she sighed, frowning.  "He's the one who's there.  He works for them.  He's trying to catch them doing whatever it is that they're not supposed to be doing.  And if they figure out that he's not who he said he is…."  She trailed off, unwilling to give voice to the darkest of her worries.

"Sweetheart," Gail began, though she really didn't know how to continue.  Her daughter-in-law flashed a tight smile before raising her mug to her lips and taking a sip of coffee.  "I didn't realize," she tried again.  "I – all he said in his email was that he tried to keep the Lisinskis out of his personal email, whatever that means."

"It means that he can't be sure they don't scan his email," Heather explained, exhaling wearily.  "Same with his cellphone.  But his work email is secure.  I don't know how that works actually, because that's not something he – we talk about much."

"I just thought he was – he was trying to protect you," her mother-in-law sighed.  "Not that that isn't important," she added quickly, "That's not what I'm saying.  Just that he didn't – he didn't explain that it was to protect – protect him, too."

"Jake wouldn't tell you that," his wife returned.  "He hasn't actually told me that – not directly, anyway.  That's not how undercover works, or maybe it's not how the DEA works," she shrugged.  "I try not to think about it too much, because I don't exactly like it."

"I don't think I like it either," Gail murmured. 

"That's our deal though," Heather explained, fiddling with her mug.  "If there's something he can't tell me, he just tells me that – he can't tell me.  He doesn't lie to me – that's the other half of our deal – but he can't always tell me what's actually going on, and I know that.  Which is the crazy thing about this assignment.  He's never been undercover as himself – with his real name, and enough details from his real life that it's okay for us to be in contact."

"That did strike me as unusual."

"He wasn't gonna take the assignment because it was supposed to be three, maybe four months – worst case scenario, they said – out of contact," Heather admitted.  "He said 'no way', so they came up with this."   

"But it's been four months already," Gail argued.

"Technically not until Wednesday, but yeah," her daughter-in-law confirmed, exhaling a frustrated breath.  "And really no end in sight, far as I can see.  I was hopeful about a week ago, but Jake just said there had only been 'slight movement' and it was too soon to tell.  Which means it's gonna be a while still." Heather predicted.  "And – and I know that going on our anniversary trip probably complicates things.   It's gonna make it take longer in the end, probably.  But I still want it," Heather confessed, frowning at herself.  "I need to spend some time with him.  Like actually with him – in the same place."  She chewed absently on her lip for a moment, then concluded with "I – I really need that."

"Well of course, sweetheart," her mother-in-law consoled.  "You both need that.  Especially if this is going to last another three or four months."

"Or five or six months," Heather groaned.  "End of the year, maybe.  That – that's the worst-case scenario I'm preparing myself for," she admitted.  "I told him I couldn't go so long without seeing him, even if it's just for a few days.  But that's not fair," she declared, her frown deepening.  "That's pressure he doesn't need from me.  So now I keep telling myself that as long as he's home by Thanksgiving, I'll be fine."

"Surely it won't take that long," Gail argued.  "You – we should still try to be optimistic—" 

"I keep thinking I'm being too optimistic," Heather interrupted.  "And, I really don't want to be disappointed.  So, then I end up thinking – bargaining – 'okay, God, can he just be home by Christmas?'"  She shook her head as if to clear it.  "If – I just don't want to be disappointed later.  And I will be if I let myself hope.  I think it's better to be ecstatic if he comes home early than – than whatever I'll be if he's still stuck there next year – until his birthday."

"Heather," her mother-in-law chided, her tone a perfect blend of stern and sympathetic.  "You can't let yourself think like that.  You're going to drive yourself crazy, and I don't want that for you.  Jake doesn't want that for you.  No one who loves you wants that for you, and there are a lot of people who love you."

The younger woman emitted a heavy sigh.  "I know.  And that's why – I really don't want you all having to have me committed to some inpatient facility."  She looked up from her coffee, finally meeting her mother-in-law's eye.  There was concern, and the slightest hint of alarm in the older woman's gaze, and Heather rushed to reassure her.  "I don't – I don't really mean that.  I don't mean that I'm losing it.  I just mean that I don't want to set myself up for disappointment."

Gail nodded.  "Well, that's understandable.  And you know that you don't have to carry this all on your own, sweetheart.  Anytime you need to vent or—"

"Go 'bleh'?" Heather suggested, a wry smile curving her lips.  "Which is what I seem to keep doing to you," she complained halfheartedly. 

"That is an expression I wasn't familiar with before today," Gail chuckled softly.  "But it's really quite descriptive, so I knew instantly what you meant.  And you're welcome to 'go bleh' to me whenever you need to," she informed her daughter-in-law.  "I know I'm not your mother, but you are still welcome to talk to me about anything you need to talk about.  I hope you know that, honey."

"I do," Heather nodded, her lips pressed together tightly.  "And I appreciate it very much," she continued shakily a moment later.  "I still miss my mom every day, but I've always been grateful that Jake is absolutely happy to share you with me."

"I still miss my mother every day, and she's been gone more than twenty years," Gail sighed.  "Like I said, I wouldn't presume that I could take your mother's place – I wouldn't want to – but I am still here for you, Heather, always."

"You know when we were first dating, Jake told me not to sign anything you asked me to because it might be adoption papers, and then we wouldn't be able to date."

His mother laughed at that.  "Jake would not have let that stand, I promise you.  You are the only person he ever brought home and asked me my opinion about.  That very first Sunday dinner that he brought you to," she explained, noting the younger woman's bemused expression. 

"Really?" Heather interjected, squeaking softly, her tone betraying her surprise.  "Though I guess the only other real candidate is Emily, and you already knew her," she continued, sighing as she answered her own question.

"Pretty much," Gail confirmed.  "I just remember that he pulled me aside and said – and I quote – 'so what do you think?'  But his eyes were on you the whole time. So, I knew that it didn't really matter what I thought," she confided, smiling.  "Though – just so you know – what I thought was that you were someone who clearly cared for my son, just as it was clear that he cared about you."

"Oh, I was half in love with Jake by then," his wife giggled.  "Or maybe completely in love.  I was very muddled.  It was a nice muddle, but still a muddle."

"Honey, Jake fell for you as hard as you fell for him.  Maybe you couldn't see it at the time, but that's because you were in the middle of it."

"Or the muddle of it," Heather supplied, snickering softly.  "And I know that now.  We have discussed how obvious or not obvious we both were in the last four and a half years."

"Well trust me, I never considered adoption papers," Gail assured, shaking her head at the thought.  "And I'll admit that pretty early on, I was hoping to welcome you to the family.  But I never thought adoption, always marriage."  Heather blushed softly at that, but she held her mother-in-law's gaze, a sweet smile blooming on her lips.  "Because – well, even then, I could tell that you were both good for one another." 

"We are good for each other," Heather agreed, still smiling.  "At least I think we are.  And I love him so much.  I just want him to be safe.  And to come home when he can," she sighed, before adding, "And maybe to stick around for a while when he does come home."

"That's exactly what I want, too," her mother-in-law declared, reaching across the table to lay her hand atop Heather's.  "For you, and for him.  For you both." 

Heather acknowledged the older woman's words with a nod and a quiet "Thanks."

"I'm not your mother, Heather," Gail repeated, "But you are the daughter of my heart.  You and April both are daughters of my heart," she amended quickly.  "And, I don't know that there was ever a mother of sons as lucky as I am," she declared, squeezing the younger woman's hand before withdrawing her own.  "When it comes to daughters."

Her eyes bright, Heather offered her mother-in-law a watery smile.  "Thank you," she repeated quietly.  "Still," she continued a beat later, allowing a rueful chuckle, "Maybe we should get to work before I manage to hit the 'bleh' trifecta today?"

"Of course," Gail agreed, "But any time you need someone to listen, I'm always happy to be here for you, sweetheart.  Truly."

 

* * * * *

 

"So, I don't want you to show me what to do," Gail cautioned as they settled themselves in the study. Gail had seated herself behind EJ Green's imposing desk, while Heather – after dragging over one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace – had placed herself across the desk from her mother-in law.  "I want to try and see if I can do it myself," Gail explained, "And then if I need help, well, you can be my 'phone a friend', okay?"

"Of course!" Heather declared brightly.  "I will absolutely be your 'phone a friend'.  I really like that actually.  In fact, I'm going to have to steal that for school."

"Because you run your classroom like a gameshow?" Gail asked, her attention divided as she clicked on the icon to launch the ranch management software.   She glanced at her daughter-in-law, teasing, "We'll have to start calling you Heather Philbin."

"Or maybe Regis Green," Heather countered, giggling.  "And not really like a gameshow," she shrugged, "But I like to make it fun, when I can.  Jake says that I'm diabolical, just in a good way.  Because sometimes I trick my class into meeting a stretch goal by appealing to their interests and making it fun," she explained, spotting her mother-in-law's questioning expression.  "He really does mean it as a compliment."

"I think, actually, that Jake would only use the word 'diabolical' as a positive," his mother suggested.  "In an admiring way, anyway.  Jake doesn’t always think about the world the same way as the rest of us."

"Oh yeah," Heather nodded.  "You're right about that.  And I definitely take it as a compliment.   Also, 'diabolical' is a really good word – so I snuck it onto the list for the 'LAST SPELLING TEST OF THE YEAR'."

"How did that go over?"

"The kids loved it.  Hands down it's the word that was used in the most sentences this last week," the younger woman replied, laughing softly.  "Turns out there are a lot of diabolical older siblings – and a few younger ones – in Jericho.  And one truly diabolical guinea pig."

"That must’ve been some fun reading."

"It really was," Heather agreed.  "And it can be hard sometimes to engage the kids, so I’m always glad for anything that sparks their interest.  I'm always looking for new ways to get them involved – get 'em to participate.  There's just so much to teach them," she smiled.  "I try lots of things, games included.  Bribery, even.  Sort of.  I'll pair something fun with something less fun.  And I'll do a class pizza party as a big reward once or twice a year.  Or I did, until The Pizza Garden got awful and went away."

"The eat your vegetables if you want dessert method," Gail offered, chuckling.  "A favorite of moms the world over – and teachers too, apparently."

"Definitely a favorite of teachers.  And sometimes I just tell my kids that they're gonna hafta figure it out themselves."

"Well, that's what you should tell me.  'Figure it out yourself, Gail'," she admonished herself with exaggerated sternness.  She clicked on a menu, but none of the options she expected were listed.  Frowning, Gail clicked on the next menu, and was relieved to see the function she was looking for on the list.  "Though, if I get myself in a real pickle," she informed her daughter-in-law, "Then you can help me out."

"Okay, but you hafta try to figure it out for yourself first," Heather ordered, wagging a finger at the older woman jokingly.  "And you have to spend ten minutes with the problem before you come to me," she added, her tone firm.  "That's what I always tell my kids.  It's enough time that they can usually figure it out, but not so much time that they end up frustrated and crying.  And, I really don't mean to treat you like you're one of my third graders," she laughed self-consciously. 

"That's okay, sweetheart.  You can treat me like one of your students, I don’t mind one bit," her mother-in-law replied.  "Though, actually, you might have to rescue me after seven or eight minutes if we’re going to avoid tears," she joked.

"Please!  You're doing great," Heather contradicted.

Gail closed the window that had popped up on her screen – it was definitely not the one she was looking for – and shook her head.  "I'm not so sure about that," she grumbled.  "But what I do know is that I would really love to see you in action sometime, honey," she announced, smiling at the younger woman.

"Doing what?" her daughter-in-law asked, her expression perplexed.

"Teaching, of course," Gail returned, chuckling gently.  "I'm sure I've told you that I was a room mother pretty much the entire time the boys were at the Elementary," she continued, earning a confirmatory nod from Heather.  "So, I've spent a fair amount of time in the classrooms there, but I never had to teach anything.  I was always just another pair of hands."

"A very welcome pair of hands, I'm sure," Heather interjected.  "I've had Melissa Landeros as one of my room moms this year and she's great.  Literally any prep work I need help with, she's happy to take on.  She won't even let me split it with her, just says 'hand it over, you've got better things to do'.  It's sooo nice," she sighed.  "But my first year, I had Karen Harper, even though she was also president of the PTA and didn't really have the time for it.  And none of the other parents wanted to volunteer because they might have had to work with her," she groaned, shaking her head.

"I remember.  You were quite overworked that year.  Still are sometimes, I think," her mother-in-law informed her, frowning in sympathy.

"Maybe," Heather shrugged.  "But it’s been good to have had something to focus on with Jake gone."

Gail nodded.  She had gotten the feeling more than once over the preceding few weeks that her daughter-in-law was dreading rather than anticipating the end of the school year.  "I can certainly understand that.  Jake said the same thing to me when—"  Gail caught herself in the nick of time, not wanting to mention – at least not yet – that she’d spoken to Jake on the phone the day before.  "He said the same thing to me in his last email," she corrected quickly.  "That working every day helps pass the time, and that maybe it’ll mean he can come home that much sooner."

"Yeah," Heather murmured, forcing a small and short-lived smile.

"Well, I'm glad to know that Melissa is upholding the honor of room mothers – and former room mothers – everywhere," Gail declared, correctly guessing that her daughter-in-law would be grateful for a shift of subject. 

"And I bet every teacher was glad the year the Green twins showed up in their classroom because that meant they got you too," Heather returned, clearing her throat.  "Even Mrs. Owensby."

"I'm not so sure about that," the older woman countered.  "Jake had a reputation as a bit of a challenge.  Mostly because the coursework was always a little too easy for him," she insisted, drawing a small but genuine smile from her daughter-in-law.  Heather knew that if there was one thing she could count on, it was that Gail Green would always come to the defense of her children.

"He was usually the first one to finish, so he always had a spare minute or three when he didn't have anything to do.  He could get himself into trouble pretty quickly in those minutes," she admitted, shaking her head.  "Some teachers tried to handle it by giving him more to do, but Jake always saw that as being unfairly punished."

"Yeah," the younger woman acknowledged.  "I kinda knew that about Jake.  The extra bright kids really are as much of a challenge – a good challenge, even though a lot of teachers don't see it that way.  But they are as much of a challenge as the kids who take longer to pick things up," she sighed.  "And I like the challenge of keeping the bright kids engaged, but not everyone agrees with me."  

"So how would you have handled having Jake Green in your classroom?" his mother inquired, smiling to herself as she finally found herself in the correct window to record a 'breeding event'.  "I'm just curious."

Heather allowed a slightly uneasy chuckle.  "Well, when Jake complains that he didn't have me as his third-grade teacher, I remind him that, outside of some very weird time travel scenario that I'm really not up for, I can be his third-grade teacher or his wife – but I can't be both!" 

Laughing, Gail asked, "And what does Jake have to say about that?"

"He usually says that what he really means is that how come his third-grade teacher – and his other teachers – couldn't have been more like me.  As a teacher, not as the person he’s married to," she clarified unnecessarily.

"That must make you feel good," Gail suggested.  "Especially since Jake's seen you in action in the classroom so he knows what he’s talking about."

"A few times," Heather agreed.  "But mostly it’s just because he has to hear so much about my job and what I’m doing with my kids," she explained.  "Plus, when he’s here, he sometimes 'gets' to help me grade homework, so he literally gets to see the improvement for himself.  But you’re right, it makes me feel really good – great actually – that he thinks I’m a good teacher.  Jake is …. He's the person who believes in me the most," she decided, hugging herself as if to hold that comforting truth in. 

"Always has, really since we first met.  So, if I were teaching third-grade Jake Green – when I was all of three years old – I would give him something he'd be interested in doing as a reward for finishing his regular work early," she decided, nodding to herself.  "Not just, 'here kid, do an extra worksheet'.  Instead, I'd have let him read a book on airplanes and then engaged him in a conversation about what he'd read.  Anytime a kid wants to tell me everything they know about a subject near and dear to their heart," she declared, "I'm gonna listen." 

"Now see, for that you really would’ve been Jake’s favorite teacher of all time," Gail informed her.  "And mine – as a mother anyway.  When you’re a mom, you can’t admit to your kids that you think some teachers are better at their jobs than others.  But that doesn’t mean you don’t think it," she confided.

"Sometimes I hafta remind Jake that the teacher he’s complaining about from when he was a kid is my current colleague," Heather groaned.  "So, I really can't bad mouth them."

"Especially now with your new position."

"Exactly!  I have to evaluate their compliance with curriculum standards, I can't be talking about how they really should’ve retired ten, fifteen years ago."

"Edna Walker?" Gail guessed.

Heather's expression turned immediately sheepish.  "Yeah," she confirmed reluctantly.

"So, it wasn’t Jake’s favorite teacher who first gave him a book on airplanes.  Actually, I don’t really think Jake ever had a favorite teacher," his mother murmured.

"He doesn't," Heather verified.  "Didn't?  Anyway, we have discussed this, and he kinda, sorta said Mr. Houghton, but he meant more as Coach Houghton from the baseball team than as Mr. Houghton, the history teacher." 

"I can see that."

"It's not like Jake doesn't value formal education – he does," Heather argued, the abrupt change of topic causing Gail to reflect on the difficulty of keeping up with her daughter-in-law in conversation for the second time in as many days.  "I couldn't be with someone – be in love with them or married to them – who didn't respect what I do professionally," she continued.  "And he totally respects what I do—"

"He's very proud of you, too," Gail interjected, adding, "And now with your appointment as vice principal, he has even more to be proud of."

"He really is.  And encouraging and supportive, too," Heather listed.  "But Jake, when he talks about the people who've taught him things, it's not really his teachers in school.  He takes a more expansive view of 'education' – one which I totally agree with.  We all need to read and write, and everyone needs more math and science than they think they do," she opined.  "But if you consider the whole world as your classroom," she proclaimed earnestly, "Well, that really is the mark of a well-rounded and educated person.  Jake and I agree on that."

"So, you're saying that Jake's favorite teacher is the world in general?"

"Not really," she murmured.  "I think – well, I think Jake's favorite teacher is – or was – Gramps.  Gramps and his dad," she amended.  "And, I mean Johnston, not Gramps's father, Ephraim," Heather laughed nervously, "Just in case that wasn't clear."

"Jake said that?"

"Not in those exact words," Heather admitted, sighing.  "But when we talk about the things he learned growing up – the things he talks about teaching our kids someday – well, most of those things are things he learned from Gramps or Johnston.  He talks about learning to ride and care for horses, and the hunting trips," she explained.  "Which he always says are more about the trip than the hunting.  'Spending time together in the woods' is what he usually says.  Plus, baseball.  He liked playing baseball – being part of a team – and how Johnston – and Gramps, too – taught him and coached him.  He has definite plans for coaching Little League when we have kids," she giggled.  "Not just playing catch in the backyard, but actually coaching whole teams of little kids.  He wants to be really involved with that."

"I think he'll be good at that – coaching," the older woman offered, her voice turning husky.  "And the rest.  I'm glad he wants to – to pass those things down to the next generation."

"Well, don't get too excited," Heather cautioned a moment later, finally meeting – and misreading – her mother-in-law's pleased gaze.  "We haven't decided anything about when we're gonna have kids.  We've just always talked about the kids we'll have someday, ever since we got engaged."

"I wasn't even thinking about that," Gail insisted truthfully, flashing an awkward smile.  "You all know where I 'stand on the subject'," she added, quoting her eldest son, "And with Eric and April's troubles, it seemed wise to turn down the temperature when it comes to pushing," she admitted.  "And, things will happen the way – and when – they're supposed to happen.  I'm just glad—"

"I told Jake that I want to have a baby," Heather said quietly, nibbling her lip for a second.  "Start planning to anyway.  Figure some things out," she said, letting out a deep breath.  "And he was very sweet, and told me I should stop taking the pill if that's what I wanted to do.  Which is what I actually said – that I wanted to go off the pill, but he knew what I meant," Heather shrugged, frowning.  "Only it turns out that's a very hard conversation to have long distance, you know?  So, I'm staying on the pill for now, and we're gonna talk about it on our anniversary trip.  And then we'll talk about it again in five or six months, 'cause I don't think he's really ready yet, so it's just better to wait, right?"    

It took Gail – rarely at a loss for words – a moment to conjure up anything resembling human speech with which to comfort her daughter-in-law.  "Sweetheart," she began.

"It's okay, really," Heather insisted, cutting the other woman off.  "So, we wait a year or two more.  That's fine.  Jake isn't gonna suddenly decide that we shouldn't ever have kids, and he's the only person I want to have kids with, so we can wait – I can wait – until he's really ready." 

"He will be, honey, I can promise you that," Gail assured her daughter-in-law, deciding that Jake would just have to forgive her if she was speaking out of turn.  "And I know – from the horse's mouth so to speak – that you are the only person he's ever even thought about having children with.  You said that Jake values family," she reminded, "Well, you are the one person Jake wants to build a family with."

Her lips pressed tightly together, Heather acknowledged this statement with a quick nod, allowing her eyes to fall closed.  "I did it again, didn't I?"" she moaned softly.  "I hit the trifecta and 'blehed' all over you again.  Can – can you just forget I said all that?" she requested, plowing ahead without waiting for her mother-in-law to respond.  "Can we talk about something else?  Literally," she groaned, "Anything else."

"Of course, sweetheart," Gail replied a beat later.  "So, I will just repeat, that I really would love to see you in action as a teacher.  If that would be all right with you, of course," she added, taking in her daughter-in-law's wide-eyed expression.  "But someday, if I could sit in the back and watch you teach.  Well, I'm sure I would be wildly impressed."

"I'm not so sure you'd be 'wildly impressed'," Heather contradicted, taking a deep, calming breath.  "Mildly impressed is more like it.  I teach third grade, not some meaty college course on some heavy subject.  But if you really want to, of course.  I'm – I think I'm pretty good at my job, and I'm honored by your interest," she confessed, blushing softly.  "If you really want to come observe my class one day this fall, I can arrange it.  Especially now that I've turned in the contract and I'm officially the vice principal in August."

"I probably couldn't follow a meaty college course these days anyway," her mother-in-law chuckled ruefully.  "It strained my brain to get my health educator certification.  And learning this," she declared, pointing at the computer screen, "Is also not my favorite."

"Do you need to phone me?"

"Not quite yet.  I'm going to keep trying, so as to impress the official teacher and vice principal in the family with my stick-to-it-ness," Gail joked.  "And come September, I'll start bugging you to arrange a day when I can come to class."

"That sounds like a plan," Heather declared brightly.

Gail returned her attention to her computer's screen, while Heather glanced around the study.  It was the room of the house (with the possible exception of the first-floor guest room) that she spent the least amount of time in.  The fact of the matter was, even though EJ Green had been gone for more than two years, in her heart of hearts, she still considered the study to be his domain.  Nowadays, Gail used it – Jake, too, when he was home and had ranch business to attend to – but Heather only ever stepped foot into the study if she was keeping one of them company.  Besides, she had her own "office" upstairs, off of the master bedroom.

 

* * * * *

 

The morning after they had returned home from their honeymoon, Jake and Heather had headed straight to the ranch to retrieve Baron and to – as they had mysteriously been ordered to do in the note Gail had left for them on Heather's (now their) kitchen table – 'go see your grandfather, he has something he needs to discuss with you both'.  The something that needed to be discussed had ended up being Gramps's proposal that Jake and Heather come to live at the ranch.  He hadn't bothered to move back upstairs after Heather's brothers and their families had returned home after the wedding, Gramps had informed them, and he wasn't planning to.  Then, he'd offered them the entire second floor for their use, rent-free.

"I'm being selfish," EJ had declared, "But I don't want this house to be empty.  Which is what it will be if you two aren't going to live here.  Your parents will try and put me in a home," he'd predicted, glaring benignly at Jake.  "Besides, this is the Green Ranch. There should be Greens living on it.  Your parents aren't ever going to live out here.  Neither are Eric and April.  But I thought – or I hoped – that you would be interested.  Both of you."

"Gramps—" Jake had started to object, possibly misinterpreting the signal his wife had sent him when she'd tightened the grip she'd had on his hand.

"That's my offer," EJ had interrupted.  "Now, I've got some work to do outside in the garden, and chickens to feed.  You two should discuss this.  And, you should go look around upstairs.  Downstairs, too," he'd suggested.  "If there are changes you want to make, you should make 'em.  I want you to make this your home.  All I ask is that you let me have my bedroom and the study down here."

"We don't have to do this, babe," Jake had assured once his grandfather had exited the kitchen.  "Not if you don't want to."

But Heather, beaming, had just shaken her head at him.  "Jake, close your eyes," she'd ordered.  Reluctantly he'd complied.  "Okay, it's ten years from now.  Or twenty.  It doesn't matter when, actually – it's just later, and we have kids.  Now, where do you see them growing up?"  She'd paused for a few seconds before adding, her tone laced with excitement, "It's here, right?"

Jake had led her upstairs then, taking her straight away to the master bedroom – Gramps's former room – which Heather had never before set foot in.  "He said we could make changes," he'd reminded, looking around the room.  It was a nice size, though the décor was dated, and stripped bare of all personal possessions and half the furniture, the space looked rather drab.

"I like this room," Heather had declared, squeezing her husband's hand.  "I'm already itching to paint it," she'd giggled.  "And, what is that, exactly?" she had demanded without taking a breath, pointing at the six-foot-wide opening in the far wall that led into a small alcove.

"My grandmother's sitting area," Jake had explained, letting her guide him into the space.  "She'd read in here, and work on projects and stuff.  Spent one winter building a telescope in here, actually.  And, you know, I think we should make it your office," he'd suggested, drawing her into a one-armed embrace so that her back was pressed against his chest.  "You're gonna need a place to do all that deep thinkin' about educational theory that you're gonna be doing," he'd reminded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  "A place where you can write really smart papers about how to run a modern elementary school."

"Okay, I like that idea," Heather had agreed, rotating under his arm so that she'd faced him.  She'd looped her own arms around his neck, pulling him to her for a kiss.  "But, I'm pretty sure the original intended use of this room was as a nursery."

"Not sure this qualifies as a room," Jake had returned, his tone skeptical.  "But," he'd continued, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear, "I can sorta see how that would work.  And we're gonna need one of those at some point, right?"

"A nursery?" she'd teased, "Yeah, we're gonna need one of those.  At least I really hope we're gonna need one."

"Hey, we're gonna need one," he'd argued.  "Three or four years down the road.  Because this is where we want our kids to grow up, right?"

"Definitely where we want our kids to grow up," Heather had sighed happily before brushing a chaste kiss across his mouth.  "And maybe more like four or five years," she'd corrected, "Just because you don't decide to have a baby and then instantly have one."

"Right," Jake had acknowledged, smirking at her knowingly.  "Might take a few tries."

"That it might," she'd agreed, smiling (and blushing) in return.  "Also, there's this little thing called pregnancy.  That takes some time, too."

"I've heard about that," he'd said, clearing his throat.  "But we're gonna do this?  You want to?  Live here, I mean."

Heather had nodded.  "Yeah, I do.  Because, you're a Green—"

"Hey, you're a Green now, too," he'd reminded, his smirk starting to turn down at the corners.

"I am definitely a Green," she'd reassured him.  "We're both Greens.  And, we're gonna live on the Green Ranch because this is where we want our kids to grow up.  Where we're gonna raise our family and grow old together.  Really old," she'd joked, "Since you're planning to live to be a hundred.  And, this room," she'd continued, stepping away from the shelter of his body but keeping ahold of his hand, "Will be my office – though we can totally share – so it'll be our office to start, and then when the time comes," she'd shrugged, grinning at him, "The nursery."

"Yeah, that's a really great plan, babe," Jake had declared, tugging her back to him so he could kiss her.

 

* * * * *

 

"It's been a while since I was in here," Heather confessed to her mother-in-law, smiling to herself.  "I think I still think of the study as belonging to Gramps."

"You don't want to intrude on his space?" Gail guessed, glancing at the younger woman seated across from her.  "EJ wouldn't mind," she reminded, "He adored you."

"And I adored him," her daughter-in-law grinned.  "My one grandfather died a few months before I was born and the other when I was four, so I don't really remember him.   Gramps was the only grandpa I really ever had."  Gail nodded.  "When I had to call Gunnison and Gunnison last week," Heather continued, "Everybody I talked to – well, not Ben Gunnison – but everybody else, they all told me how lucky I was to have him as my grandfather, and I just agreed.  Even if it wasn't strictly true."

"It was true enough for EJ," Gail argued. "He certainly considered you his granddaughter, I've no doubt about that."

"Back when I first came to live here, when I'd get home in the evenings, most days, he'd call me in here right when I came in the front door," she explained, looking back over her shoulder at that front door.  "We'd sit and just talk.  Jake was gone during the week, but home most weekends then," Heather reminded.  "We had great discussions.  And, he'd save up the Free Cell game numbers that gave him the most trouble, and have me give it a try.  He took Free Cell very seriously," she declared, affecting a grave tone.

"Now that is something I didn't know about him," her mother-in-law laughed.  "So, what did you two talk about – or rather, discuss?" she inquired, clearly curious.

"Current events sometimes.  And I'd tell him what was happening at school, and he'd tell me fifty or sixty years of history about the people involved – the families anyway.  The kids don't have fifty years of history to tell, obviously.  But Gramps knew everything about everyone," Heather recalled.

"Your grasp of Jericho gossip has always been impressive," Gail complimented, "But I'd assumed that was Harriet Crenshaw's influence.  I should have known that EJ also had something to contribute.  He knew everyone, and he probably knew everything about them, too."

"Yeah," her daughter-in-law agreed.  "And, some of what I know does come from Mrs. Crenshaw.  About once a week she'd tell me something and then give me specific orders to pass it along to Gramps, so you're right about that.  But what I loved about Gramps is that he wasn't really ever… judgmental," Heather decided after a slight pause.  "When he told me about people, it was mostly so I'd understand their past hardships and triumphs.  He really cared about the people around here."

"He did," Gail acknowledged.  "He was a good man.  I certainly miss him."

"Me too," Heather sighed.  "It's weird to realize that I only knew him for a little over two years."

"Well, for true bonds of the heart, I don't think time has a whole lot of meaning."

Heather nodded her agreement.  "I learned a lot about Green family history from those talks too.  That's how he got me involved in the cemetery project," she admitted.  "He was such a good storyteller and I was hooked."

"I'm sure he loved that time you had together as much as you did," Gail assured.

"I think so.  And then, after we'd talk for a half hour or an hour, when I really needed to go make dinner, or get to work on my grading or my reading for my master's program, he'd hand me something that Jake had faxed me," Heather giggled.  "It wasn't every day, but it was a lotta days.  And I always fell for it, 'C'mon in darlin', sit a spell,' and only at the end would he remember that Jake had sent me something."

Gail's expression telegraphed her surprise at this revelation.  "What was he sending you?  If you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't mind.  I mean, Jake didn't mind Gramps seeing what he sent, and he definitely knew Gramps would see it first," Heather informed her.  "And it was usually a drawing.  Mostly of airplanes, but sometimes other things even though Jake claims that he can only draw airplanes, robots and horses—"

"I didn't know he could draw horses," his mother interjected.

"Side view only," Heather clarified.  "Though really, he draws lots of things he says he can't.  But mostly he draws planes."

"So, he would just fax you his doodles?"

"There's usually a note, too," the younger woman admitted, blushing softly.  "A perfectly sweet, 'G' rated note, I swear.  I would not be telling my mother-in-law about some risqué note her son had faxed me, trust me.  Especially since he faxed it from a government or hotel fax machine, and sent it to a fax machine monitored by his grandfather. And not that Jake sends me risqué notes other ways," Heather added, her blush deepening.  "And – aaahh!" she groaned inarticulately. 

"Sweetheart," Gail chuckled, shaking her head when Heather peeked out from behind her hands.  "You do know that I wouldn't think less of either of you, if Jake were to send you a risqué note."

"That's good?" Heather squeaked, pulling another chuckle from her mother-in-law.

"You're married.  Risqué doesn't shock me.  I might even encourage it on occasion, if I didn't think that would embarrass you."

"It doesn't embarrass me," her daughter-in-law protested, though her frown and deepening blush belied that claim.  "It's just I prefer to keep some things private, between Jake and me."

"And I completely support that choice," Gail assured her.

"Okay," Heather nodded, exhaling a long breath through her teeth.  "Though – really – the notes he sends me mostly just say 'I love you and I miss you'," she explained, shrugging.  "Sometimes he'll say something like 'you're gonna knock 'em dead at the PTA, babe,' when he knows I have to go speak to the PTA about something.  Perfectly 'G' rated.  Well, except maybe not the 'knock 'em dead' part."

"I'm glad.  Especially that he tells you to 'knock 'em dead'.  Like I said earlier, he's very proud of you."

"Yeah," the younger woman sighed.

"You know, it was EJ who first gave Jake a book about airplanes," Gail volunteered a long moment later.  "It was gift to both boys, the Christmas before they turned eight – so second grade," she calculated.  "And Eric was interested, for about a half hour, but Jake – he was riveted.  He and EJ spent the whole rest of Christmas Eve, heads together, looking through that book.  And, it was such a grown-up book, too," she continued.  "Not in the—"

"Risqué?" Heather interjected, making a face, but also chuckling softly.

"Exactly.  Not in the risqué sense, just in the technical sense.  Lots of jargon.  Jake would actually sit down and study that book – really just look at the pictures – because the text was advanced for Johnston and me, and he was a little boy.   But sometimes for the photos that really intrigued him, he'd ask me to read the descriptions to him," Gail recalled.  "Midair refueling was one of those photos.   He was fascinated by the idea that that was something that could be done.  I must've read that page to him every night for a week.  Didn't understand half of what I was reading," she laughed, shaking her head.  "But I just loved seeing how enthusiastic he was for the subject."

"Jake taught himself to draw from that book," his mother continued, admitting, "I haven't thought about this in years.  He started out tracing the planes out of the book – the photographs – and he got very good at it.  So good that EJ eventually gave him a book specifically on how to draw aircraft, but that came later.  The cherry on the sundae, so to speak," she smiled.   "And, I don't think it was third grade, but definitely by fourth grade those drawings started showing up, freehand, in the margins of homework and quizzes that came home."

"I love that so much," Heather declared.  "Knowing the origin story of all the airplane drawings.  And he still has that book," she informed her mother-in-law.  "I mean, Jake doesn't really keep books, but he's held onto that one.  He's shown it to me.  It has the inscription from Gramps – well, 'Grandpa Green' – and everything." 

"And I love that," Gail echoed.  "I hope he still sends you little love notes including drawings," she announced, thinking of one airplane sketch and love letter in particular.  She supposed she would have quite the confession to make the next day, but Gail decided that she didn't care.

"Yes but no," her daughter-in-law sighed.  "Even after Gramps died, he still faxed me drawings with notes.  And then he'd hafta tell me to go check the fax machine, because I never remembered to," she giggled, rolling her eyes at herself.   "But on this assignment, he doesn't have access to a fax machine or a scanner," she explained, shrugging.  "He still emails me every day – or almost every day.  But you know that." 

"I do know that," Gail acknowledged softly, smiling.

"Those emails are … lovely.  Really, the highlight of my day," Heather grinned.  "And in our supposedly private email exchanges we do sometimes get a little more than 'G' rated.  And that's all I'm gonna say on that!" she pronounced with mock severity.

"Fair enough," her mother-in-law returned.  "I wasn't fishing for details.  I – what you said makes me very happy, that's all."

"So, you're doing okay with that?" the younger woman asked a minute later, gesturing at the computer monitor.

"Oh, yes, thank you, sweetheart," Gail answered distractedly.  "I'm almost afraid to say it, but I think I may be finally getting this."

"Knock on wood then," Heather suggested, leaning forward to wrap her knuckles on the desk's edge.

"Good idea," Gail laughed, following suit.

"So, is it all right if I run upstairs for a minute?  Or two – well, three – tops?  I just wanna get my laptop."

"To check your email?" Gail couldn't help but tease before flashing the younger woman an indulgent smile and then waving her out of the room.  "Of course, sweetheart.  Please!  Go get it."

True to her word, Heather was back in two and a half minutes, laptop in hand.  She was also carrying a very long network cable that was looped over her shoulder.  "That is some cable," Gail observed as her daughter-in-law deposited her laptop on her wing chair.

"Seriously," the younger woman sighed.  "I didn't even know they made them this long, but Jake got it for me so I could be semi-portable with my computer again.  Is it all right if I plug in down there?" she asked, gesturing at the router under the desk.

"Of course," Gail answered, backing her rolling chair out of the way.

Heather quickly plugged the cable in, and then tossed it over the desk toward her wing chair.  She moved back around the desk, picked up her laptop and connected the cable, before seating herself.  The two women worked in companionable silence for a few minutes before Heather asked, "You know how tomorrow is Field Day?"

"I do.  Johnston and I will be there at seven thirty, ready to pitch in wherever we're needed."

"He doesn't need to come out here for the last mare?" Heather asked, sounding surprised.  "I thought that was Doc Hansen's recommendation?"

"They finished everything up yesterday.  We may have to offer a free return to the Sharpes, but they agreed to take the risk just to get done for now yesterday," Gail explained.  She clicked the 'save' button then, committing the final 'breeding event' to the database.  "And Johnston – on Jake's advice – has decided to skip next weekend, but work the next.  Though, we're keeping the Sharpes' mares on ranch just in case."

"Nobody said anything last night, so I figured there was more work to be done," her daughter-in-law admitted.  "Which makes no sense, it could have just as easily meant the opposite."

"Well, I laid down the law with all of them on Saturday," Gail disclosed, chuckling uneasily.  "There was to be no discussion of horse breeding at your birthday party under pain of death.  For Johnston and Eric at least," she amended.  "For Stanley, I left it at denial of birthday cake.  Though, honestly, that's about as far as I really would have gone for any of them."

"I'm pretty sure that withholding dessert would've worked on all of them, too," Heather giggled.

"True."

"And, that was super sweet of you, so thank you," Heather declared.  "Also, completely unnecessary.  I was embarrassed, sure, but I'm okay now.  I mean, I was okay after I went to Mass, and then I was really okay after Jake and I talked," she insisted, a smile lighting up her face.  "He said – he said something I really needed to hear, I just didn't know I needed to hear it, at least until he said it.  It was pretty perfect," she continued, staring past her mother-in-law.  "And also completely 'G' rated," Heather claimed, meeting Gail's gaze.  "I swear."

"That's rather disappointing," her mother-in-law returned.  "You two can be risqué if you so desire.  Without telling me anything about it," she reminded.  "But also, the more you insist that something was 'G' rated, the more I'm reminded of Jake always swearing up and down that his homework was done.  And how he was always the most adamant that his homework was finished, when it was in fact the most not done," she concluded pointedly.

Reddening, Heather allowed a self-conscious giggle.  "So, there may have been a moment or two that went 'PG'," she conceded.  "Or higher."

"Nothing wrong with that," Gail assured.  "Also, nothing that we need to discuss.  So, you were saying something about Field Day," she prompted, catching her daughter-in-law's eye.

"Well, it's something about Jake," Heather cautioned.  "Also, me and Field Day."

"Is that a problem?  He – and you – are both in my top five favorite topics of discussion.  I'm that kind of mother," Gail chuckled, flashing the younger woman a smile as she clicked into the financial module of the ranch management software.   "In case you hadn't noticed," she joked.

"I had picked up on that, yes," Heather allowed, her giggle giving way to a gentle sigh.  "And that's exactly the kind of mother I want to be, too.  Someday."

"You will be, sweetheart," Gail assured, silently adding, 'Sooner than you think.'  "I know these things," she continued, repeating, "It's the kind of mother I am.  So," she said a beat later, "What is the something about Jake and you and Field Day?"

"He has an alternative title for Field Day.  He calls it 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'.  Which is true.  It's the one day of the school year that I wear shorts."

Gail laughed at that.  "He calls you 'Mrs. Green'?  When he's flirting with you?"

"Yeah," Heather confirmed, laughing along with her mother-in-law.  "We are sometimes oddly formal when we flirt.  And – I dunno – he really seems to enjoy that I hafta be 'Mrs. Green' at work – and if we run into kids and their parents when we're out and about.  What he doesn't like, though, is that I always introduce him as 'Mr. Green'," she confided.  "To the kids, anyway.  He knows half the parents, and they usually just call him 'Jake' – while they keep calling me 'Mrs. Green'," she groaned, shaking her head.

"He's proud of you," her mother-in-law repeated. "And also, possibly enjoying the ongoing astonishment of a few of your colleagues over the fact that Jake Green married a teacher – and such a great one at that."

"Definitely enjoying the ongoing astonishment," Heather giggled.  "Which is fine because I really like it when he calls me 'Mrs. Green'.  And that I am Mrs. Green.  Is that silly?"

"Not silly at all.  I like it too.  That I'm Mrs. Green – the other one," Gail teased, smiling at her daughter-in-law. "And that Johnston still occasionally addresses me as such.  Because it is nice – after almost forty years of marriage – that it still occurs to him to flirt with me every now and again like when we were newlyweds," she chuckled.  "Of course, these days I'm also a little suspicious," she grumbled a beat later, "That he's buttering me up for some reason."

"Well, I'm pretty sure that I'm the actual other Mrs. Green," Heather argued.  "You're the one that comes to everyone's mind, and then they are so surprised to see me."

"Not if you're under fifteen, sixteen, years old," the older woman countered, "And not if you're a parent of someone under fifteen or sixteen.  Then you, sweetheart, are definitely the main Mrs. Green in this town."

"Maybe," Heather shrugged, a smidge of color rising on her cheeks.  "And, sometimes I think that's what Jake's up to, too.  Buttering me up," she clarified, shooting her mother-in-law a wry grin.   "But I'm glad he still flirts with me, even if we've only been married not quite, but almost, four years.  So, I hope this is one of those 'like father, like son' things, and he's still calling me 'Mrs. Green' in thirty-six years.  Even if it is to butter me up."

"Johnston and Jake, they're more alike than either of them would ever admit," Gail lamented, garnering an emphatic nod from the younger woman.  "But at least that means there's a very, very, very good chance Jake will be calling you 'Mrs. Green' and flirting with you and buttering you up for rest of your life."

"Well, that is my plan!" her daughter-in-law declared cheerfully. 

"So, we were talking about 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'," Gail reminded, chuckling.

"Right.  And this is what your son had to say about that in his last email to me," Heather announced.  "And I quote: 'I fully expect to get to see Mrs. Green wearing her shorts and her official school polo shirt.  So set things up so I can see all of you, okay?  Love you.  Jake'," she finished.  "The part right before this was all about the plan for our breakfast Skype date tomorrow."

"I think both of you are really looking forward to your date," Gail observed.  "Also, my educated guess is that Jake rather enjoys the 'wearing shorts' part of 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'.  Mostly because it gives him a chance to admire your legs."

"Yeah, probably," the younger woman grumbled, rolling her eyes, though that quickly gave way to a grin.  "But it's only fair.  I demanded that I get to at least see him for my birthday, so he should get to see me too.  And I promised him that I'd get you or April to take my picture tomorrow so he could have a sort of souvenir," Heather explained.  "So, even though I will set it up so he can see all of me tomorrow for our date – at least for a minute – I'm still gonna send him that picture."

"I'll make sure to take your picture then, and send it to him along with the cake picture, okay?" Gail offered.  "And if you get April to take your picture, too, maybe he can have two or three souvenirs from 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'."

"He'd really like that," her daughter-in-law murmured, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"I've no doubt."

"This – it's the first time ever – since we met – that he isn't gonna be here for Field Day," Heather said a moment later, frowning.  "And I know that's a silly thing to worry about – be bothered about – but it's kinda worse than having him gone for my birthday.  I've psyched myself up for that.  But…."  She trailed off, glancing away for a moment to swipe one hand across her eyes.  "They stuck me with the softball tournament my first year because they could," she chuckled ruefully, "And because I was engaged to Jake.  Scott Rennie wanted out of running it, and he even said in front of every other teacher at a staff meeting that I was the logical choice as the future Mrs. Jake Green." 

"That's not very fair to you, though it's probably the best fit for Jake," his mother consoled.  "But we both know he'd volunteer wherever you were assigned, even for the – the hopscotch tournament."

"I kinda wish we had one of those," Heather chuckled, a smile playing at her lips but not quite taking.  "I could run that competently.  Though, you're right – I don't exactly know what Jake would do if we were stationed there.  It's just – I'm really not qualified to run softball without him," she groaned.  "But two months ago, when we started planning, I wasn't thinking, and I just let 'em assign it to me like always." 

"You weren't thinking he'd still be gone," Gail reminded.  "And why ever would you?"

Heather nodded.  "Yeah."

"But you have parent volunteers to help you?"

"Oh yeah.  Three dads – Derek Hyde, Shep Cale, and Chuck Landeros.  I'm pretty sure his wife made him."

"Well, a certain amount of dad volunteering is done because a mom somewhere 'made him'," Gail chuckled, "Particularly the room moms."

"That's definitely the story behind Chuck Landeros.  But I think Derek Hyde legit wants to spend the time at softball with his daughter," Heather argued.  "Last year was her first year, and on the first grade/eighth grade team, the required first grade batters never get runs – they hardly ever get hits, and they get to use the tee.  Amy got a run – a homerun, actually, due to an error in center field.  But she smacked that ball off the tee, shocked everyone on the other team.  Derek was soooo proud.  Even Jake said he had a hard time not shouting 'run, run, run!' to encourage her along, but he was umpiring that game, so he had to stay impartial."

"Derek and Jake were on the baseball team together in high school," Gail reminded, earning herself a confirmatory nod from her daughter-in-law.  "And it sounds like you're getting comfortable with running the softball tournament.  That was a pretty good play-by-play."

"I can do the write up for The Record, sure.  That's easy.  But this year I'm gonna need to umpire, and I've never had to do that," Heather grumbled. 

"Jake always stepped in and rescued you from that, I take it," Gail surmised, her tone sympathetic.

"Yeah," her daughter-in-law admitted, shrugging.  "I knew what baseball was, and the basics – nine innings, three strikes and you're out – and I played softball in school when they made us, but that was pretty much it.  Then I met Jake and figured out that baseball was his sport.  The day after our first date, I actually called Tommy up and made him tell me everything he knew about baseball because he has to know about all the sports for his job."

"I remember when we were in Denver for the Jonah Prowse trial, and Jake took us all to the Rockies game over the weekend, how shocked he was when you told him that it was your first major league game," Gail laughed. 

"That was funny.  Because it's not like he didn't figure out pretty quickly that I knew nothing," Heather snorted.  "You make one comment about the designated hitter rule that you actually can't back up in follow-on discussion…."

"I'm sure Jake was flattered that you attempted to study up just so you could talk with him."

"Yeah, I think so.  No matter how poor the execution.  Jake knew I knew nothing about baseball by our third date.  Tommy didn't realize I'd asked him about baseball to make sure I could talk to Jake until I was home for Christmas two and a half months later," the younger woman giggled.   "And Jake also figured out pretty quickly that making fun of my lack of baseball knowledge was a good way to get me to kiss him, just to shut him up," she confessed, a rosy blush staining her cheeks.  

"You do realize you're incentivizing him to tease you," Gail accused mildly.

"Well, yeah," Heather returned, grinning.  "But at least we both enjoy that part."

"I should've known," her mother-in-law chuckled, rolling her eyes.  "You two are quite the pair."

"And now, when we watch baseball together, he still explains what's happening, but now, every once in a while, I'm able to say something smart," Heather declared.  "And also some other stuff."

"So, it's not only your students that you'll listen to expound on a subject near and dear to their hearts," her mother-in-law realized, smiling.  "EJ with town and family history.  Jake with baseball—"

"—and airplanes!" 

"How could I forget the airplanes," Gail laughed.  "You even let Eric tell you all about his weekend golf games, most Sunday night dinners."

Heather shrugged.  "April's pretty fed up with the golf.  So, if I talk golf with Eric, maybe they don't start out every week irritated with one another."

"We can only hope," her mother-in-law muttered.  Their gazes locked for a moment, both of them nodding in grim agreement.

"You know – or really, there's almost no way that you could know – but Jake actually rewrote the softball tournament rules for me, as an extra little birthday present," Heather confided.  "I shouldn't call it little though.  It was so sweet, and such a complete surprise.  Honestly the best present he gave me that year – though he still claims it doesn't qualify as a present.    But he didn't think that the rules we had were exactly safe," she continued.  "And while he couldn't find a way around the crazy team structure – not when we have to have a tournament that includes six- to fourteen-year-olds – what he came up with is definitely much better.  He said that he knew how much I'd hate it if a kid were injured on my watch," she sighed, "So he wanted to make sure that didn't happen." 

"I don't think that Jake would like it if a child was hurt when it was in his power to prevent it, either," his mother offered.

"He really wouldn't," Heather agreed.  "Actually, I think – I think it would be worse for him than it would be for me.  I'd feel awful, of course.  But Jake…."  She trailed off momentarily, a grimace settling on her features.  "Jake always holds himself responsible for so much more than he rightfully should.  Everything – everything from Chris Sullivan dying in that robbery to me getting embarrassed on Saturday—"

"He comes by it honestly at least," Gail interjected quietly, frowning.  "He learned that from Johnston.  And EJ."

This statement didn't seem to register for Heather, and she continued without acknowledging her mother-in-law.  "Things there's no way he could prevent.  So, if a child were hurt – one of our future kids, one of my students, the child of a complete stranger, it wouldn't matter," she insisted.  "He'd carry that… that guilt with him forever.  No matter how much he'd tried to prevent it.  Or how much what happened was ultimately out of his control."  She met the older woman's eye then, shrugging helplessly.  "It's the curse of being Jake Green.  That ridiculous standard he's always trying to live up to."

Gail nodded.  "It's tough.  They don't always listen when you try to talk sense into them."  She paused a moment, clearing her throat softly.  "Sometimes I think all you can do is love him.  Be the one person who always believes in him."

"Well, those are things I can do," Heather promised, allowing a shaky chuckle.  "Things I already do.  And you know, Jake wrote those tournament rules for me, and then he insisted that I put my name on them, and keep his name out of it.  Which is ridiculous!  So, you're right, sometimes there is no talking sense to them."

"Why would it matter one way or the other?" Gail laughed, her expression turning quizzical.  "You two have the same name – same last name, I mean.  And no one was going to mind Jake having rewritten the rules."

"That's what I said!  But we didn't have the same name then.  This was right before we got married," she explained, shaking her head.  "I told him that it would probably be reassuring for a lot of people to know that he wrote the rules," Heather reasoned.  "Way more than letting them think I came up with them all by myself.  I also told him that by the time I would actually be sharing the new rules with anyone else, I was gonna be 'Mrs. Green' and not 'Miss Lisinski'.  And I reminded him that most people would probably realize I'd had help, and exactly who that help was.  Besides, the difference between 'H Green' and 'J Green' is literally the slip of a finger.  One space on the keyboard.  None of my arguments worked though.  He wouldn't budge."

"You should make it 'written by H and J Green'," his mother suggested.  "It's not like he could do anything about it, especially right now."

"Oh, I like that," Heather grinned.  "And really, what is he gonna say?  I'm gonna make that change right now," she decided, clicking on the 'Documents' folder on her laptop.  "Though it should really be 'by J and H Green'.  All I did was a little light editing."

"Johnston can umpire," Gail announced suddenly.  "It's not like he hasn't done it before – for Little League, not Field Day – but still.  He was the boys' first coach, and he never says it, but in high school he double lettered – football and baseball."

"I did not know that," the younger woman squeaked.

"Johnston can umpire," Gail repeated.  "It's been a few years, but he can handle it.  And then you don't have to."

"Are you sure?  I don't wanna pull him away from whatever he was planning to do—"

"He was planning to go where he was needed," her mother-in-law dismissed with the wave of a hand.  "You need him, so the softball tournament is where he's needed.  And, he'll be thrilled to get to spend the day with you."

"That would be great, but do you really think he's gonna want to?" Heather persisted.

"I am.  I'll let him know tonight that he's going to get to spend the day with his daughter.  And if that doesn't do it – and it will – I can always withhold dessert for the rest of the week.  And make him that fried egg sandwich in the morning.  I'm a former room mother," Gail reminded, "I know how to get a dad to volunteer if it comes down to it.  Which it won't."

"Okay…" her daughter-in-law responded hesitantly.  "I guess – or I mean, thank you.  So, I'll email him the official rules document?"

"By H and J Green?" Gail inquired, smiling.  "Yes, please.  And send it to me too.  I'll have it printed out for him when he gets home tonight.  I heard tell of a speed bump kerfuffle in The Pines, so odds are this council meeting runs long."

"Well, I made it by J and H Green," Heather reminded.  "But there," she added, dropping the document onto an email message and then clicking the 'send' button.  "Sent to you both."

"Thank you, honey."

"And a kerfuffle in The Pines over a speedbump?" Heather snickered, "That sounds riveting."

"Doesn't it just?" her mother-in-law snorted in return.  "And, the good news is, I'm almost done here.  Just need to print and sign this check for Stanley, and then we can have dinner."

"Well, in that case," Heather declared, scrambling to her feet, her laptop balanced on her forearm.  "Here you go."  She presented the older woman with a sticker of a cartoonish gold star beaming and proclaiming 'Awesome Job!'.  "I grabbed this while I was upstairs.  Thought you'd earned it.  Didn't need me here at all."

Gail accepted the sticker, peeling it off its backing and pressing it to her blouse over her heart.  "Thank you, sweetheart.  I'll wear it as a badge of honor," she chuckled, smiling.  "But, Heather," she admonished gently, catching her daughter-in-law's hand in hers and squeezing it.   "You are most definitely needed here.  This family needs you.  We'd be incomplete without you – and don't you forget it."

"You sound just like Jake," Heather charged, grinning.

"Is that so?" Gail intoned before declaring, "Well then, you know I'm right."

 

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

 

---

 From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Mon Jun 05 20:07 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Your Birthday

Attachments:

---

 

Hi Jake,

 

I'm sorry I didn't email you last night.  All I did was go to dinner and eat too many carbs (hello, lasagna, garlic bread and cake) so when I got home, I just decided to go to bed.  School night after all. Unfortunately, I didn't think to take a bubble bath last night, but now I have grand plans for later this evening. :-)  

I was going to drag out the calligraphy pens to fill out my end of year award certificates tonight (the assembly is day after tomorrow) but now I think my kids will have to make do with my regular handwriting in a good ink pen (like every other teacher does).  That I can do before school on Wednesday.     

I had a really nice time at my dinner party (and maybe it was actually a party).  Your mom and April did such a nice job with the food.  So did your dad and Eric, who were on decoration detail.  We had a great time.  I also got to talk to Bonnie for 20 minutes which was fun.  Now that she isn't at the Elementary, I don't get to spend as much time with her as I used to.

Your mom sent both lasagna and cake home with me, even though she knew she was picking up a second cake for me today as a present from you. I'm really glad I insisted on splitting the leftovers with her last night. (She wanted me to take them all.)  I love you, Jake, and thank you for the cake (my absolute favorite!) but I really don't need THIS much birthday cake.  It was super sweet of you and I just want to kiss you even though I'm starting to wonder if you have some secret plot to make me fat.

I am thwarting that secret plot however because I invited your mom to stay for dinner tonight and we split the lasagna and most of the strawberry lemonade cake.  If I thought Baron would eat the last piece of cake, I'd totally give it to him since it isn't chocolate (and I can't share the Kahlua cake with him when I bust into it later because it is). Maybe I will give it to him anyway – he'd eat the whipped cream, if nothing else.

Also, I made a salad to go along with our dinner.  Your mom told me that she's been after you to eat more vegetables so now I'm telling you that she was proud of me for putting together a whole salad with 4 veggies in addition to the lettuce, all without her having to nag me about anything.  Yes, I'm bragging to you about your mom being proud of me for an eating habit. :-)

I had a nice time with your mom this afternoon, and turns out she didn't need any help at all.  She is now a ranch management software expert, including the lineage software.  I even gave her a gold star.  (You think I'm kidding but I'm not.)  Of course, we also talked about you, and she told me the story about you and that book on airplanes that Gramps gave you the Christmas before you turned 8 and how it launched your career of drawing me pictures.  You know I love stories of little boy Jake, and this one (like all the rest) made me all gooey inside.

I also realized something today when I was talking to your mom.  Last week (Tuesday, I went and looked back through my email to see what I'd said and when) I told you that I'm not saying we should have a baby because I think having one sometime later would make me less lonely now.  I said I needed something to look forward to (besides/in addition to you coming home) which is totally true.  But I think it's also that if we made that decision it would be decided, and that actually would help me be less lonely now.  I feel like everything is up in the air and if I had that to hold onto then I would be a little less lonely, less unsettled. 

I don't think I am explaining myself well, but I really thought they were 2 separate things last week.  Now I'm not so sure. I didn't mean to deceive you, Jake, and I really didn't do it on purpose – I was kind of deceiving myself.  But what I absolutely don't want is for you to feel like you have to say yes because you're worried about me.  I'm fine Jake, I'm not going anywhere, and I'm willing to wait a year or 2 if that's what you need.  I trust you.  (Heck, I'll wait 3 years if I have to, but let's still check in and see where we're at every 6 months, ok?)  

Ok, I'm off to take a bubble bath and then I'm going to go to bed early, maybe read.  Or maybe haul out the calligraphy pens and do those certificates.  But I will see you in less than 10 hours and I really can't wait.  I'll be in my shorts and in my polo shirt and we can just look at each other and talk.

I love you so much Jake it is not even funny (another really dumb phrase, but I do love you sooooo much),

 

Heather 

---

 

---

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Mon Jun 05 20:43 (UTC+3)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: RE: Sunday Dinner

Attachments:

---

 Hi Jake,

 

You should mostly ignore the email I just sent to the other Jake Green.  Especially the part where I was an inarticulate mess.  I blehed on you, I'm sorry.  I blehed on your mom today too.  We really did have a nice time hanging out but I still blehed on her. (More than once.)

She noticed that we don't have a doggy door anymore and asked me about that.  So that was fun.  She told me that you emailed her from this account to tell her to not say "Lisinski" so I gave her the broad strokes of my participation in your cover story.  I hope that's OK.  I don't think she's going to try and track down our fake marriage license, but now she could if she really wanted to.

For the record, I don't mind sending you the emails you need on the other account.  I don't even mind making up the occasional anecdote that never happened.  I always liked creative writing.  I assign creative writing all the time, it's good for me to get a dose of my own medicine every now and again, so to speak.  For example, just now I came up with that carb coma story off the top of my head when I really stayed up to email you pages about my birthday dinner, just not to that email.  I want to do whatever you need me to do so that you stay safe.  BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

I like your mom's rule for naming kids, too.  I vote that we add that rule to the pre-nup – can I get a 2nd? (Assuming you second the motion, the motion carries and I will get that added probably as soon as school is officially out.)  I would not name our son Abigail (or Sue – ha!) and we are definitely having more than 1 kid if I get my way.  You have agreed to having 2 to 3 kids.  It's in the pre-nup, mister.

So that's the part of my other email that you can take with a grain of salt.  When you read that part, don't worry about me.  I just wanted you to know that I realized being lonely and looking forward to when you come home are basically the same thing.  And, trying to solve that by having a baby isn't fair.  But I still want us to talk about it.

I don't know if I own any kid appropriate books on Greek Mythology.  I have an Irish Legends for Children book I got when I went with the Burkes to Ireland the summer between high school and college.  And if I ever saw a book called "Bullfinch's for Babies" I would totally buy it, just based on the title and probably without even doing a test read of the material.  Though I suppose I should make sure it was about mythology and not birds.  (Is there a bullfinch bird?)  But yes, we can work together to make sure what we tell our kids from Greek (or any) mythology is age appropriate, and I will go first. :-)

So, I have some thoughts on Mikey's supposedly inappropriate email: 

 

(1) I can definitely say you were not inappropriate. 

(2) I award you a million bonus points for realizing that the best present you could give me when we have a baby is to make sure my perpetually poor, starving college/medical student little brother can come visit us and meet his niece or nephew in a timely fashion.  That's not a problem exactly, so maybe it's a "situation"?  A situation you can throw money at (and I won't freak out).  I'm just going to love you even more than I already do for thinking of it, promise. 

(3) Obviously the bonus points you were talking about were for that amazing gift you're planning.  And I've already given you a million.  How about I make it 10 million?  Especially for the planning!

(4) I can only think of one thing that you shouldn't be bragging to Mikey about and I know you wouldn't do that.  "Some things are just between us" is your rule originally.  It's just a really good rule that I am happy to adopt.

(5) So, in conclusion you were not inappropriate and my brother is a pill.  And I LOVE YOU!!!!

 

BTW, your mom asked me while we were eating dinner if I or my dad would think it was inappropriate (it's the word of the week) if she and your dad sent Mikey $500 as a "Congratulations on getting into Yale" present.  (In case you're reading your email out of order, I invited her to eat dinner – the leftovers she sent home with me last night – with me tonight.  But I did make a salad.)

Your parents also sent him $500 as a college graduation gift last year (without running it by me – I only know because Mikey told me that) so I wasn't quite sure why she was asking this time.  She said that she and your dad always send graduation gifts to pretty much everyone they know (maybe not $500?) and that they are just really proud of Mikey and he's a member of their extended family.  I told her that Dad and I would not mind one bit and thanked her for her generosity and for thinking of him.  (Especially when he's being a pill!)  Also, I think maybe I got a dose of my own medicine.  I know I confuse your mom sometimes because I don't always tell her/people in general why I think 2 things are related.  She obviously thought there was a difference between "congratulations on graduating college!" and "congratulations on your admission to medical school!" that I wasn't seeing.  (Obviously those are different things, I just don't see why she felt she had to ask me about the 2nd and not the 1st.  She didn't need to ask at all.)  Anyway, this leads me to....

 

>> I generally like your tangents Mrs. Green, the more subatomic the better. 

>> Though they do tend to make me want to kiss you (and other stuff).

 

I'm VERY glad to hear it!  I will happily keep going off on my tangents, especially if you're going to kiss me (and other stuff) for it.  It's funny though, because I told your mom (not really sure why) that when you start to make fun of me for my baseball naivete, I will kiss you to shut you up, and she said I was "incentivizing" you to tease me.  Uh, yeah.

 

>> I guess Dad heard part of your conversation with Mom and

>> April.  Don't worry about it but he's like Mike – thinks I've

>> abandoned you.  Dad actually said I was ruining through

>> neglect the most important relationship I have.

 

Well, Mikey is wrong, and I am going to tell him that.  You have not abandoned me and I know that.  I'm also going to tell him that you were not being inappropriate in your email and that your bonus point balance with me is somewhere like 20 or 30 million.  His bonus point balance with me is like 1,999 and dropping.  Of course, you are allowed to redeem your points for an entirely different set of prizes/rewards than Mikey (or anyone else) gets!

I'm sorry that your dad overheard me in my weak moment and got the wrong impression.  I'm not sorry that you and he both think I am your most important relationship.  I know that you are my most important relationship.  Just don't be too mad at your dad for worrying about us, even though there's nothing to worry about.  Even you worry sometimes that I can't handle our current separation, and he doesn't know me anywhere near as well as you do.

Besides, right now your dad is kind of my hero.  I was totally whining to your mom about Field Day tomorrow because I got my list of volunteers and realized I'm probably going to have to umpire.  The dads who volunteered this year are Shep Cale and Derek Hyde, both of whom have kids on the 2nd/7th grade team, and then Chuck Landeros, whose kids are in my class.  So, I can't have any of them umpire for any game where 2nd/7th plays 3rd/6th. (By rights, I shouldn't be umpiring when the 3rd grade plays, but I sure can't have parent volunteers with a conflict umpiring.)  Anyway, I was preparing myself to have to umpire tomorrow and whining about it but then your mom said your dad could do it.  I'm not entirely sure he's going to want to, but she says he will, and if he doesn't (but she insists he will) then she'll make it happen.  And I should feel guilty about getting her to possibly twist his arm so he does it, but I really don't.  So maybe cut him some slack for me?

 

>> Remember if you start to feel abandoned or neglected let me

>> know and I will quit and be on that next plane.  I am a

>> million times more interested in being married to you than I

>> am in this job.

 

See?  This is why you have 20 or 30 or heck 50 million bonus points with me, Hon.  <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

 

 

>>>> What I don't want is to be married to someone who resents

>>>> me for being too needy or clingy.

 

>> I don't worry about you being needy or clingy. I worry that

>> you'll get fed up and decide you don't need me at all.  You

>> cling to me any time you want. 

 

I tried to write something smart and dispassionate and stiff upper lip in reply, but yeah, I'm not really feeling that tonight.  So just know that when I see you (in person) next I probably will cling to you, maybe a lot.  And kiss you plus other stuff.  And most definitely I'm never going to not need you, Jake.

 

 

>> I'll see you soon.  18 hours til our Skype date.  I can't wait.

 

9 hours now, and I also can't wait!  So, I'll go take a bubble bath, maybe fill out some award certificates (or not), and go to bed, so then it'll go from 6 or 7 hours until we see each other to us actually seeing each other in a blink. :-)

 

I love you!

 

Heather

---

 

 

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

 

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 6.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

When Jake asks Gail if she remembers how Eric said that Heather was dating him because she likes a challenge, he was recalling the conversation at a Green Family Sunday dinner as documented in Different Circumstances, Part 9D.  It was actually Heather who said she has a hard time saying no to a challenge, to which Eric said there was finally a satisfactory answer for why she was dating Jake.

The Borrowers is the first book in a fantasy series of the same name written by Mary Norton in 1952.

Jeopardy! is a long running TV gameshow created by Merv Griffin in 1964.  At the time of this story, the show was in syndication and hosted by Alex Trebek. It was shown in the evening between the nightly news and general network programming in most of the United States.

The terms of EJ Green's will, such as his leaving his chickens in Heather's care, are more fully discussed In Different Circumstances, Part 14G.

Sharon McBee and McBee's Bakery & Café were first introduced in Different Circumstances, Part 11E.  McBee's Bakery provided food for the 'school play work day' and Gail and Mrs. McVeigh ended up commiserating about just how high maintenance she is.  McBee's also came up again in Different Circumstances, Part 15D when Jake reminisced about his father's go-to breakfast (doughnuts and chocolate milk) when he was in charge of getting the boys to school or they were headed out of town on a Saturday morning.  Jake intends to carry on the tradition with his own children.

The town of Buffalo KS is in fact located in Wilson County, in the southeast corner of the state.  In 2000, the population was 284, but that declined to 232 by 2010.  This story takes place in mid-2006, and Heather and Jake got married in 2002 (July 13 to be exact).  In the episode The Day Before, Eric tries to convince Johnston to allow him to enter a USA Today contest to find the top five towns in America with populations under 5,000.  I've always assumed that Jericho the town (proper) has a population just under 5,000 and with the surrounding farms and such probably serves somewhat over 5,000 people (schools, medical center, shopping, etc.) on a regular basis.  So, Buffalo KS is a very small place, with less than 0.1% of the population of Heather's (Different Circumstances) hometown of Buffalo NY (292K in 2000, 261K in 2010) and is still significantly smaller than Jericho, having somewhere between 5% and 7% of the population of our favorite (fictional) Kansas town.

In Different Circumstances, Part 6D, Jake describes his mother to Heather as a person who should have had a ton of kids, and therefore an adopter of strays.  He warns Heather that she may find herself adopted, and that while they probably could still date, to still not sign anything Gail asked her to.  So, Heather is remembering things slightly differently than they actually happened, but close enough for memory.  Also, if you want to go re-read Different Circumstances, Part 6D, that is the one with the date at Bass Lake.  It's always been quite popular.

The first Green family Sunday dinner that Jake brought Heather to is described in Different Circumstances, Parts 5C and 5D.  In Part 5D, Jake does ask Gail what she thinks of Heather, but Gail is mis-remembering the actual facts of what happened – while remembering how that first meal with Heather went generally.  Heather was actually out of the room when Jake asked his question, but his eyes were most definitely on her all evening.

'Phone a friend' is an option from the gameshow Who Wants to Be a Millionaire which was originally hosted in the United States by Regis Philbin.  It first aired in the US in August 1999, and was hosted by Philbin into 2002.  This story is set in June 2006, so a little late to still be referencing Regis Philbin, but I decided to go with it anyway.

Heather tells Gail that Jake says "Spending time together in the woods," was one point of his hunting trips with his father (and grandfather).  In the episode Heart of Winter, Johnston tells Gail, "My kid could sit in a deer stand for hours. We wouldn't say a word to each other, just be in the woods together. I was always afraid Jake would forget about all that you know. That he'd grow up only remembering the bad times. That he wouldn't remember that we'd been close, that we were buddies once."  To which Gail replies, "He remembers. Deep down. It's why you mean so much to him."  So, I respectfully submit that this conversation with Heather could be a reason why Gail was so sure of her statement.

In the Different Circumstances universe, Gail has found a new, later years' career as a health educator.  Given her nursing background, April thought of her when the medical center was in need of a substitute instructor for a Lamaze class.  She later obtained a certification to teach all manner of health classes.  This is covered in detail in Different Circumstances, Part 15B.

Jake first draws an airplane in Different Circumstances, Part 6B.  I write in that part of the story that EJ gave him a whole book devoted to drawing aircraft, but don't say when that happened.  (I also wrote that Gail gave him a book of Peanuts comics and the first airplane he drew was Snoopy's Sopwith Camel.)  I maintain that EJ could have given Jake both books at different times.  And we know from canon (Red Flag) that Jake's grandfather made sure he knew his planes.  So likely, Jake – who has held onto very few books in his life – held onto those two that EJ gave him.

Jake continues to draw planes in later installments of Different Circumstances, and it is in Different Circumstances, Part 12B that Jake tells Heather he can draw horses (side view only) and robots in addition to airplanes.  (And in Different Circumstances, Part 12C that Jake draws an airplane and a "family portrait" of Heather, their baby, and himself in stick figure form.)

Jake's dislike for Heather having her students call him "Mr. Green" is one of the Different Circumstances AU facts that was mentioned all the way back in Different Circumstances, Part 1.

Jake's love of and proficiency at baseball is nominally canon.  He tells Gracie Leigh in the Pilot episode of Jericho that he had been playing minor league baseball during his five years away from Jericho.  Jake hasn't been away from Jericho for five years in the Different Circumstances universe, but I figured that he must have been a good enough baseball player in his youth to make this lie plausible – or to have it occur to him to tell it in the first place.

Jake references the agreement that "she who gives birth" has naming rights (while he who is the dad gets a veto) during the discussion he and Heather have after he returns from Black Jack in Different Circumstances, Part 12F.

Heather's note that she would not name their son Abigail or Sue in reply to Jake saying he would veto naming their son Abigail is a reference to the Shel Silverstein poem A Boy Named Sue which Johnny Cash then popularized as a song, recorded in 1969.  That is a decade before Heather was born, but I think she probably knows both the Shel Silverstein poem and the Johnny Cash recording.

Bullfinch's Mythology is a collection of Greek myths written in English for a general American audience.  It was published in 1867 and was the definitive collection of Greek myths for over a century.  It's a bit dated, and there are other, widely accepted translations now, but the name Bullfinch is still so heavily tied to Greek Mythology and it is alliterative with the word "baby", so it sounded like something Heather would think of.

 

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

 

 

 

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

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 6

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 400 pages and now 9 or 10 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

This is also a slightly shorter (for me, recently) chapter, but I am trying to post on a monthly basis and while I've been busy writing I find that I need to break my latest/longest chapter ever (I checked!) into two.  So instead of 60-some pages to read, this time you're getting around 30 pages to read. But you're also guaranteed some reading in March, too. 😊

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas (and Buffalo NY is an hour ahead of Jericho) so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 5:41 am (Jericho KS) / Tuesday June 6, 1:41 pm (Baghdad Iraq)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

Heather yawned, catching herself thinking about being nine years old and looking forward to going to a week of Girl Scout sleepaway camp.  The night before she'd been scheduled to depart, she hadn't slept well, waking numerous times, and so she had been primed for a mini-meltdown when her mother had come into her room to wake her, and had asked if she knew what day it was.  Heather had burst into tears.  Somehow, she had convinced herself that she had managed to sleep entirely through Saturday and had missed the bus that would take her away on her grand adventure.  It had taken her mother nearly ten minutes to convince her that she was, in fact, up and ready to go with time to spare.  Heather had made it to camp that year – and for a number of years following – but now that same giddy feeling, that same nagging worry that she would miss out, had returned with a vengeance as she awaited her first opportunity in over a month to actually lay eyes on her husband, even if it was only by video chat.

She hadn't slept well the night before – much like when she'd been a little girl – too excited with the anticipation of the day ahead and – most importantly – her Skype date with Jake.  She'd stayed up later than she'd planned, too, taking a bubble bath but also completing her award certificates, calligraphy and all.   So, it had been nearly eleven when her head had finally hit the pillow.  She'd gone right to sleep, only to awaken ninety minutes later and then at approximately twenty-minute intervals thereafter.  Heather, yawning again, realized she'd probably pay for that today – and Field Day was truly the worst day to not have her complete wits about her – but she also found it hard to care that she would be sleepwalking through her day.

Suddenly, three things happened simultaneously: the toaster finished and popped up her toasted bread; the coffee maker beeped its completion; and her laptop – strategically positioned on the near end of the farmhouse table – rang with the tone that signaled an incoming Skype call.  All thoughts of preparing her coffee – she'd staked out the machine, eager for that first sip of caffeinated bliss – flew out of Heather's head and she dropped her mug on the counter, where it made a sharp, loud sound, but luckily didn't break.  She sprinted across the kitchen calling out, "Don't hang up, don't hang up, don't hang up," as the call continued to ring through.

Heather, her hand shaking, banged hard on the trackpad, furiously working to get her mouse pointer to the answer button.  '"Don't hang up, Jake.  Please don't hang up," she begged as her laptop connected.  "I'm here!  Don't hang up!"

"Babe!" Jake called in return, his face materializing on her screen, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hang up.  I was just gonna let it ring, long as I needed to."

She dropped into the chair at the end of the table, exhaling deeply in relief.  "Hey, you," she greeted, smiling widely.  "It's so good to see you!"

"It's great to see you," Jake countered, his grin as big as hers.  "Happy Birthday, Heather," he continued, sighing softly as he drank in the sight of his wife.  "You look great!" he declared.  "Gorgeous!  And, you've got the fancy hair goin' on.  I love it."

Flipping the end of her French braid over her shoulder, Heather rolled her eyes.  "Liar," she accused cheerfully.  "You hate it when I wear my hair like this.  You hate it if I just pull it back in a ponytail or use a barrette or a clip," she catalogued.  "You only like my hair when you can play with it."

"I don't always play with your hair," he protested.

"Uh huh.  Sure," she grinned in return.

"Can't play with it now," her husband reminded.  "But it still looks nice.  I can at least like how you look from here, right?"

"Absolutely!  You are always allowed to like how I look from anywhere you are.  Plus, you can tell me that you like how I look – that is always allowed, too."

"I love how you look, babe.  Always and forever."

"Right back atcha, hon," Heather declared.  "And I promise to wear my hair so you can play with it as much as you want, as soon as we're in the same place, 'kay?"

"Thanks," Jake sighed.  "And you know, I like your hair 'cause it's attached to you.  Plus, it's soft and always smells nice."

"Well, that's good," she giggled.  "That you like my hair because it's attached to me.  I appreciate that."

"I actually like – love – everything that is attached to you," he told her.  "Because I love you and everything about you.  From the hair on the top of your head to—"

"Well, I'm gonna stop you right there, mister," his wife interrupted.  "Because there are certain things that we only discuss in person, and I'm pretty sure that's where you're heading with this."

"You think I was gonna launch into a soliloquy about my favorite parts of your body?" Jake teased.  "That's—"

"It wouldn't be the first time," she shot back.

"True," he acknowledged, trying – somewhat unsuccessfully – to stifle a yawn.  "Not sure we have enough time.  I've got a lotta favorite parts," he reminded, winking at her.  "So, I figured I'd keep it vague and 'G' rated, and finish off with 'to the soles of your feet'.  I love all of you, babe."

"Nice save there, hon," Heather smiled, chuckling.  She let out a deep sigh. "You look tired, Jake," she added, frowning sympathetically.  "I mean, not enough that I'm gonna tell you to go to bed, because I'm still planning to stare at you for the next hour. But still…" she trailed off.

"Hey, I'm okay.  I mean, I'm tired, but I'm not that tired.  And I wanna look at you, too," he assured, throwing her a lopsided grin that didn't completely reach his eyes.  "It's the heat mostly," he claimed.  "Takes a lot outta you.  This doesn't help," he continued, fingering the collar of his black polo shirt.  'Ravenwood Logistics' was embroidered in red under the Ravenwood company logo on the righthand side.  "But – you know – corporate branding standards must be maintained, even in the parts of the world that are probably too hot for actual human habitation."

"That's ridiculous, they should at least let you wear a white shirt.  I mean, even the Victorians figured out they should wear light colored clothing in hot climates.  And now we have decades of science to back that up."

"Well, logic is no match for corporate policy, right?" Jake griped.  "But," he continued, clearing his throat, "Why are we talkin' about my polo shirt when I'd much rather be talkin' 'bout yours and how it's 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'.  C'mon, lemme see."

"It's my birthday, Jake."

"It is.  Happy Birthday, Heather."

"And all I wanted for my birthday was to get to look at you for an hour or so," she reminded him.

"That's true," he agreed, adding helpfully, "Though you really should ask for more than that, babe."

Heather snorted.  "I really should.  But that begs the obvious question," she complained even as she started to push her chair back from the table.  "Why'm I the one who has to model for you?  It's my birthday after all."

"Hey, I'll model for you," he pledged, chuckling and leering at her as best he could manage over their video chat.  "But you hafta go first, 'cause I look forward to this day all year long."

"Yeah, me too," she grumbled, moving her chair to the side and then backing up from the laptop's built-in camera.  "Since today's – you know – my birthday.  In fact, me doing this might technically be against the Birthday Rules," she informed him, even as she struck a pose.  "So can you see me?"

"I can see you, Mrs. Green," Jake called out.  "And those are still the longest shorts I have ever seen in my life.  Still, I hafta say, I really love 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'.  Seriously, this should be a national holiday."

"These are Bermuda length shorts, hon.  That's a perfectly normal length for shorts."

"For my grandmother, sure.  And I'm pretty sure I saw her in shorter shorts than those," he argued.  "Like, a lot."

She shook her head at him, trying not to laugh.  "Should I be concerned that you paid such close attention to the length of your grandmother's shorts?" Heather challenged, "Because that seems weird.  And really?  How often could your grandmother have possibly worn shorts around you?"

"More than you'd think," Jake returned.  "I think Gramps liked it when she wore shorts, so she did.  Just around the ranch.  She wouldn't have been caught dead in town – or anywhere else – in shorts, but at the ranch, sure.  I think he liked checkin' out her legs."

"That's what you mom said about you last night," she sighed.  "Not about your grandmother," she clarified quickly, giggling, "Because that really would be weird.  But she said that you like 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day' because you like admiring my legs."

"She's not wrong," he acknowledged, grinning.  "Since you insist on being a productive member of society, hell yeah, I like checkin' you out on the one day a year you wear shorts to work.  Why do you think I usually go with you?  Just not this year," he grumbled softly.

"I've been known to wear skirts shorter than this to school, Jake.  You don't come to work with me on those days."

"Okay, see, even you think those shorts are on the long side," he contended.  "And – also – major oversight on my part.  I think you need to pre-schedule short skirt days, give me some warning."

She was laughing and shaking her head at him now.  "I usually wear really thick tights with those particular skirts, just to be safe.  But sure, I'll keep you posted," she promised, rolling her eyes.  "And, I wear this specific pair of shorts," she said, reseating herself, "Because I never know when I'm gonna need to squat down or climb under or on top of something at Field Day, and I don't particularly want to be providing a show to who knows who.  I like to know on a very deep level the person I'm providing such a show for," she insisted, her gaze boring into him across the thousands of miles that separated them.  "Okay, mister?"

"Hey!  As a – or the – the person," he corrected, "Who knows you on that deep level—"

"The person who knows me on the deepest level," Heather interjected.  "Just to – to … level set," she groaned, throwing her hands up in the air.

"And – just to level set – you are also the person who knows me on that deepest level, babe.  So, I'm definitely okay with you saving your shows for me, Mrs. Green.  And the super long shorts make total sense."

"Good.  And even though you've already seen me in my shorts on this very special day for you – today's show, so to speak – your mom's still gonna take my picture and send it to you, so you can have a little souvenir.  Okay?"

He offered her his sweetest smile, breathing, "Thanks babe.  So," Jake continued a beat later, climbing to his feet.  Now all she could see was his torso, though he was still talking.  "I guess it's my turn to model for you.  Especially since it's your birthday and all," he reasoned, starting to unbutton his jeans.

"Jake Green, don't you dare!" his wife screeched, though she also seemed to be having an attack of the giggles.  "Stop!" she demanded.

He squatted down then, bringing his head back into camera range.  "What's the matter, babe?" he inquired, smirking, though his tone was one of righteous innocence.

"My not being naked on the internet rule applies to you, too," she informed him.

"Well, I wasn't planning to be naked on the internet, so we're okay."

"You were starting to take off your pants," she huffed.

"I was taking off my pants—"

"Jake!"

"Just my pants, Heather," he assured, laughing softly.  "You need to get your mind outta the gutter, babe, 'cause trust me, I'm not goin' commando while I'm here.  Especially in here," he emphasized, pointing down at the table.  "I have my suspicions about what other people do in these rooms, and….  No thank you."

"Gross, Jake," she complained, making a face.  "So, I assume you have a perfectly innocent reason for why you were taking off your pants then?"

"You showed me your legs, so I was gonna show you mine," he explained, slipping back into his seat.  "I mean, it's your birthday, and I usually wear shorts on 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day', too."  His gaze narrowed with suspicion.  "You're tellin' me that you never checked out my legs too, given the chance?" 

Heather bit her lip, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.  "Well, I'm usually checking something about you out," she allowed, teasing, "Could be your legs, could be somethin' else – I'm not tellin'." 

"You've got a bit of a mean streak, Mrs. Green," her husband accused, not for the first time.  "But it is your birthday," he reminded, "So am I takin' off my pants or not?"

"You are not," she ordered.  "Just wait 'til we're in the same place, okay?  And alone.  Because then – but not 'til then – those pants are gonna need to come off, mister!"

Jake grinned – though it was really more of a leer – at that.  "You just say the word, babe."

"Thanks," she sighed.  "But, so we're clear, you can take your clothes off for a shower, and to, you know, change them," she told him, exhaling and nodding to herself.  "Basic personal hygiene is still allowed and encouraged, is what I'm sayin'."

"That's good," he acknowledged.  "Because I happen live with three other guys in a very small space, and you know, personal hygiene is probably the thing that keeps us from murdering one another in our sleep."

"Then you should definitely take off your pants to shower," Heather declared, smiling at him fondly.  "And until that really awesome future day when we're finally in the same place again, I'm happy – ecstatic, really – just to look at your face.  I love your face, Jake."

"And the rest of me, I hope."

"Definitely the rest of you."

"I love your face, too, Heather.  And your fancy hair – today at least," he grinned, winking at her.

"Ah, see.  The truth comes out!" his wife declared, smiling in return.

"I love all of you, babe.  And I love 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'."

"I love all of you, too," she repeated.  "But maybe we should call it 'Mr. and Mrs. Green Both Wear Shorts to School Day'," Heather suggested.  "To be completely fair.  And accurate."

"Nah," Jake contradicted, shrugging.  "Maybe 'Vice Principal Green and That Guy She Married Wear Shorts to School Day', if you're goin' for accuracy."

"You know, not-actually-the-vice-principal-yet Mrs. Green really loves 'That Guy She Married'.  He's one pretty amazing guy."

"I don't know 'bout that, babe," he replied.  "But I do know that 'That Guy She Married' really loves her, too.  Would even if she never got to be vice principal.  Though if that happened, he'd wonder what kinda idiots we have runnin' the school board."

"I'm pretty sure 'That Guy' has always wondered that," Heather argued, shaking her head at him.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Jake chuckled.  He drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds, then asked, "Hey, where's your breakfast?  This is a breakfast date, remember?"

"Oh!  Well, everything went off just exactly when you called, so I had to choose.  And, you won, Jake. I abandoned my coffee and my toast so I could answer my computer and see you.  'Cause I really wanted to see you, hon," she flirted.

"Toast?"

"Not just regular old toast," she assured him quickly.  "I was gonna do peanut butter on one side, Nutella on the other and smoosh 'em together," she explained, pantomiming pressing two pieces of bread together.  "And have, like, a Reese's sandwich.  And I toasted the bread so it would make the peanut butter and Nutella all melty, gooey delish, too.  Totally birthday-worthy toast.  But," she sighed, looking back over her shoulder at the counter, "I'm guessing my toast is cooled off now."

"But my mom was supposed to bring you a chocolate Kahlua cake yesterday," he protested.  "She promised."

"Jake, she did," Heather replied, turning back to face the camera.  "She even took a picture of me and the cake together, in case you demanded proof of delivery later.  Which you better not," she informed him, glaring at him for two seconds before that gave way to an indulgent smile.  "Your mom is amazing, and you don't get to be snippy with her on or about my birthday.  Got it, mister?"

"Got it," he echoed, throwing her a mock salute.  "But babe, the cake was for breakfast.  You're supposed to eat the cake for breakfast."

"Okay…." Heather said, hesitating for an instant.  "But why?" she demanded, her nose wrinkling (Jake thought) adorably.

"Because when we were talking about what Kerry's family does for birthdays, you said you could go for having cake and ice cream for breakfast on your birthday," he reminded.  "I thought you of all people would've figured that out."

For a long moment she didn't respond, didn't react at all.  Finally, her lower lip trembling slightly, she gasped, "Ja-ake!  I – I can't believe—"  Her eyes were bright with tears, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand.  "I just – I love you so much," she murmured.

"I wasn't tryin' to make you cry," he complained.  "I was trying to make you happy.  And you sure better love me for something more than just getting you a cake."

"I am happy," she insisted.  "And, I do love you for getting me the cake," she continued, wiping at her eyes again.  "But I really love you because you listen to me.  You remembered what I said when I didn't even remember I'd said that.  I mean, I remember that I said it now, but that was such a throwaway comment ….  You always hear me.  And I love you for that.  So much."

"Anyone who doesn't listen to you is an idiot.  And, I love you, too," he echoed, clearing his throat.  "And I – I just wanted to – to do somethin' for your birthday that you'd like.  We should be headed out of town on Thursday night, even if it's just to Estes Park for a coupl'a nights—"

"I love Estes Park for my birthday," Heather reminded him.  He'd taken her to the cute little mountain town right outside Rocky Mountain National Park for her birthday weekend right before they had gotten married, and she had insisted that they go back every year since.  She'd had to admit that Estes Park was much more her speed than Jackson Hole or Vail or Park City – places they had gone to celebrate Jake's birthday over the years.  Heather rather enjoyed being "wined and dined" by her husband on occasion, but as she'd told him more than once, if she was going to step into a boutique, she'd rather not have a panic attack every time she looked at a price tag.  "But what I love most is going there with you, Jake.  That's the thing that makes it special.  So don't knock it."

"Fine, no knockin' Estes Park," he agreed.  "But still.  I should be taking you out to dinner tonight.  I – I – there's a million things I should be doing for your birthday," he continued, deciding against mentioning the couple of things he'd managed to pull off that she didn't know about yet.  "And about all I can do this year is order a cake for you and then be a jerk to my mom about making sure she got it out to you in time.  So that's what I did."

"The cake is more than enough, Jake.  Well, the cake plus us having breakfast together.  This is definitely in the top ten sweetest things you've ever done for me, and you've done a lot of really sweet things for me."

He groaned softly at that, though it was mostly for show, and they both knew it. 

"And, just so you know, I want this for every birthday from here on out, Jake.  You, me and a chocolate Kahlua cake for breakfast.  That's pretty perfect."

"Go get your cake, babe.  And your coffee," Jake ordered softly.  "So we can have breakfast together," he added, holding up a vending machine coffee cup and a packaged pair of cupcakes.

"I get McBee's Kahlua cake and you get Hostess cupcakes?  That doesn't seem fair."

"It's not even Hostess's, just some off-brand," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.  "And the coffee sucks." 

"Well, you can totally have some of my cake in future years, okay?" she promised.  "Heck, I'll cut you a piece of this cake and put it in the freezer like we did with our wedding cake.  You can have it when you get home."

"Nope," he dismissed immediately.  "You're not allowed to save me a piece, babe.  That's gonna be the rule for the Green family's birthday-cake-for-breakfast tradition from here on out.  We're not gonna be polite about it, we're not gonna cut it in slices or use plates.  Birthday girl or boy gets the first bite or two, and then everybody else gets a fork and we all dig in.  That's the rule."

"Look at you, makin' rules," Heather teased.  "I love it, hon."

"'Kay then.  You better add a section to the 'Birthday Rules' for cake-for-breakfast."

"I will do that, promise," she said, smiling at him.

"Go get your cake."

"Okay."  Heather stood up, shoving her chair out of the way.  She took two steps back and then held her arms open, calling out, "Here's your bonus chance to check out my shorts, hon!"

"Thanks, babe!" he yelled back.

Heather quickly poured her coffee, then moved to the refrigerator to add half-and-half to her mug as well as get the cake.  She left the cake on the counter – she didn't trust herself to carry both back to the table without dropping something on the floor – but grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer, taking it along with her coffee to the table.  "One more trip," she informed her husband.  "You can check your email if you want.  I did manage to send you something last night."

"I'll read my email later, when you're at Field Day," he replied.  "Right now, I'm just gonna look at you.  Where's Baron?"

"Outside, sorry," she frowned.  "I should've told him he'd get to see his dad if he came back in."

"It's okay, babe," Jake chuckled, watching as she momentarily disappeared from view before reappearing a few seconds later, carrying a small, white bakery box.  "This is our date – he doesn't need to be horning in on it, like always.  I miss him," he admitted as she seated herself, "But I miss you way more.  You're the one I want to look at for as long as I can."

"Well, I'm glad I rate above the dog," she joked, opening the bakery box.

"You rate above everybody, Heather," he reminded, exhaling softly.  "You are the most important.  Always."

"Thanks," she murmured.  She began fiddling with the laptop then, tilting the screen so the camera was pointed down, depriving Jake of his view of her face.  "Okay, so can you see this?" she asked, moving the open cake box toward the camera.  "Your mom apparently out McBee-ed Mrs. McBee.  She said she threw a fit and got her to add a layer of cream cheese frosting so the purple writing would show up.  I was like, 'how come we never thought of this before?'  Cream cheese frosting makes everything taste better."

"I can see it," Jake confirmed.  "You definitely got what I paid for with a bonus."

"Yeah," his wife smiled.  "Thanks, hon.  And oooh!  Dessert bagels – you know, cinnamon raisin, chocolate chip, French toast.  Then add cream cheese frosting instead of just regular old cream cheese.  That's like a thousand times better, right?"

"Sounds good to me," he agreed, opening his cupcake package.  "Dig in, babe," he ordered, "Table manners do not apply to birthday-cake-for-breakfast.  Make sure you write down that part of the rule," he added, extracting a cupcake from its plastic nest.

"I will make sure that's in there," Heather promised, holding her fork above the cake.  "I'm just not sure where to start," she confessed, giggling.  "Take a piece off the side, or stab it in the middle…."

"Doesn't matter.  Whatever you want to do, just go for it," her husband encouraged, taking a bite of his own, rather pitiful, cupcake.  "And you do know that if you decide to open a dessert bagel restaurant then you're gonna hafta make it a gourmet grilled cheese and dessert bagel restaurant."

Heather took a deep breath and then plunged her fork into the edge of the cake.  She lifted her fork up, using her free hand to keep the large chunk of cake and frosting from sliding off the tines.  "I'm gonna look like a pig," she moaned.  Glancing at the screen she told her husband, "You should close your eyes for this part."

"No way, babe.  If we're not gettin' naked on the internet, then I at least get to enjoy watching this part," he teased, taking another bite of his cupcake.  "It'll make this taste better."

Rolling her eyes at him, she maneuvered her forkful into her mouth, trying to hide at least some of her chewing from his view.   A moment later she swallowed hard, finally giving into a laugh.  "Three things," she announced as she cut another chunk of cake off with her fork.  "First, this is really, really good.  This is so my standing order for the Green family birthday-cake-for-breakfast tradition we're starting.  McBee's chocolate Kahlua cake with cream cheese frosting.  I'm puttin' that in the rules," she told him, pointing her loaded up fork at the camera to emphasize the point. 

"Sounds good.  And I'm gonna have to think about mine," Jake decided.

"Well, you've got time," his wife reminded, eating her next bite.  "You can even do peanut butter pie twice – birthday breakfast, birthday dinner – if you want."

"You sure 'bout that?" he questioned, arguing, "I mean, the rule is about having cake.  For breakfast.  Cake, not pie."

"Yeah, well, peanut butter pie is already grandfathered in as an acceptable substitute for birthday cake," Heather asserted.  "That makes it okay.  But remember, you liked that peanut butter frosting I made for the cupcakes last Fourth of July.  I could do that with a chocolate fudge cake – a layer cake, so there'd be frosting in the middle.  That would be pretty good."

"That sounds great, but let me think about it," he dismissed.  "Besides, today's s'posed to be about you and your birthday.  Happy Birthday, babe.  Since I haven't said that in at least five minutes."

"More like ten, I'm pretty sure, mister," she mock scolded him.  "Fallin' down on the job, lemme tell you."

"I'll do better.  So, what's the second thing?" 

"Right.  The second thing," she nodded, licking the back of her fork.  "Well – and I think I may have mentioned this to you before – but I love the job I have, Jake—"

"I am aware."

"—so, I'm never gonna quit it to go run a restaurant," Heather finished, shrugging.  "Sorry."

Jake held his hands up in an 'I surrender' pose.  "I'm not the one who thinks you should run a restaurant.  That's Eric, and he doesn't know what the hell he's talkin' about," he declared.  "The last thing you should be doin' is wasting your talents on running a restaurant."

"My talents don't really lend themselves to running a restaurant," she reminded, scraping together a forkful – he noted – of chocolate and cream cheese frosting sans cake.  "I can't really cook."

"You can make fifty kinds of grilled cheese, and you thought up dessert bagels literally on the spot," he countered.  "You could definitely run a restaurant.  Hell, you could run the world, babe."  He finished the last bite of his cupcake, realizing, "But then you wouldn't have time for me, so scratch that.  You don't get to run the world after all.  Sorry."

"Well, if I ran the world, you wouldn't have to have a job, so then at least you'd have plenty of time to hang out with me.  We could make it work," she promised, grinning.

"You're gonna repeal the 'gainfully employed' requirement, babe?" he joked. 

"Maybe," she said, absently breaking off another morsel of cake with her fork.  "For sure, you wouldn't hafta be in Iraq."  She paused then, frowning and abandoning her fork to reach for her mug, which she wrapped both hands around.  "I'm sorry, Jake.  I – I didn't mean it like that.  Really."

"It's okay, babe.  I …."  The last thing Jake wanted today – or any day – was to get into an argument over this.  He just wanted to look at his wife and spend some time together, the only way they could manage at the moment.  "I didn't take it like that," he assured her.  "Right now, I hafta be here.  But I'm not stayin' one more minute that I absolutely need to."

"I know."

"And you're right," he continued, allowing a frustrated chuckle.  "Because if you're running the world, I'm pretty sure that means I get to be the trophy husband, at your beck and call.  So, I wouldn't be here, I'd be there," he reasoned, gesturing into the camera at her.  "Becking and calling."

"I'm pretty sure I would be doing the beckoning and calling," Heather contradicted, reaching again for her fork.  She pointed it at him – where he was on her screen, he realized – and, giggling, informed him, "Whereas you would be answering my beckons and calls.  And distracting me.  I assume, trophy husband," she pronounced, affecting a superior tone, "That you are still at my distracting service."

"Always happy to provide you with distraction, Heather," he replied before adding suggestively, "And other stuff."

"You have always excelled at distraction and other stuff," she flirted in return.  She took another bite of cake, letting out a small groan.  "I think I better stop eating this or no way I'm gonna make it to Field Day."

"Please," he dismissed, "You've had four bites.  Hardly made a dent in that cake."

"This is a lot of cake for one person, for breakfast," she argued, pointing down at the bakery box with her fork.  "But I'll definitely do better next year when you're here to help me."

"And I'll definitely be there," Jake pledged.  "Ready to eat cake for breakfast and perform all my other trophy husband duties."  He paused for a beat, then said, "Happy Birthday, Heather.  See, I'm tryin' to not fall down on the job here."

"Thanks, hon," she smiled.  "And, sorry to derail your trophy husband career plans, but I don't think I'm gonna apply to run the world.  That's definitely too much work." 

"That's okay.  You're gonna be running the education system in our corner of the world," he predicted.  "You get to make sure the next couple of generations of kids can read, write, and—"

"'Rithmetic?" she guessed, laughing.

"I was gonna say: employ the scientific method, plus have critical thinking skills.  If you whip all their brains into shape, then you're basically making sure they can run things right without all the pressure of doing it yourself.  That's better than getting stuck running the whole world."

"It is.  Slightly fewer headaches, too," she chuckled.  "And thanks, hon.  You get, like, a million bonus points for calling me a good teacher, which is how I choose to interpret that."

"That's how I meant it.  Heather, you're pretty much the greatest teacher ever."

"I don't know about that," she sighed, "But I'm glad you think so."  Without thinking, she reached for her fork and speared up another bit of cake.  "Ten million bonus points to Jake Green."

"I thought you were full, babe," he reminded, smirking at her.

"I found a little room," she shrugged, grinning in return.  "What about you, aren't you going to eat your other cupcake?"

He made a show out of popping the second cupcake out of the plastic, then took a bite.  "So – for the record – even though I hafta stay gainfully employed, I can be your trophy husband, too.  If that's cool with you."

"That doesn't seem fair unless I'm okay being your trophy wife."

"It's fair. You don't think 'trophy wife' is a compliment—"

"Because it's not," Heather grumbled, rolling her eyes. 

"Exactly what I'm sayin'.  You're nobody's trophy wife, but I'm fine with being Heather Green's trophy husband.  That's a compromise that works for everyone."

"Well, I'm not a trophy wife, Jake," she declared.  "But – if you want – I will allow you, just in your head and just between us, to think of me as your trophy wife."  She paused a moment, her lips pursed, offering, "There's a subtle difference there that probably only makes sense to me."

"Think I get it, babe.  And, that’s pretty much how I already think," he confessed, joking, "In my head, where I think.  Because you, Mrs. Green, are a catch.  Definitely my trophy wife.  Hope that doesn't get me in trouble."

"Why would it?  I told you that you could think that.  Besides, you're right, I am a catch."

"And so modest," he teased.

"Yup, that too," she agreed, grinning at him over the rim of her coffee mug.  "So, you thinking of me as your trophy wife is like me a calling you by that nickname that is seriously just between us.  That's totally fair, right?"

"Totally fair.  Okay, so what was the third thing?  You said you had three things to tell me."

"You're keeping score?" she laughed, alluding to their conversation two days before.

"I figured what the hell," he shrugged.

"Well, I haven't actually told you the second thing yet, hon," she informed him, allowing an exasperated chuckle.  "You got us off on that crazy tangent about what if I were queen of the world, and I didn't even get a kiss out of it.  Or other stuff."

"I do owe you like a million kisses plus other stuff," he conceded.  "So now it's a million and one, but I promise I'm good for 'em."

Heather smiled at that.  "I know you are, hon.  And I owe you about a million, too.  We both have kissing obligations."

"Lookin' forward to it, babe.  So, okay, what's the second thing?  Oh, and Happy Birthday, babe," Jake sighed.

"Thank you!  And, just so you know, that is a good interval for 'Happy Birthdays' during this particular conversation."

"Good to know."

"Thanks," she repeated, her gaze full of affection.  "And the second thing is: love my job, not gonna open a restaurant, now stepping very carefully over the sidetrack that leads us to the discussion where I'm the queen of the world and you're my trophy husband—"

"If we're gonna make you queen, we might as well go for the whole universe."

"That's a tangent we will have to pursue later, mister.  Not now."

"Got it, sorry."

"So, what I was trying to say is that the next time your mom decides we're having breakfast for Sunday night dinner, we'll bring dessert bagels as our contribution," Heather suggested.  "Just to mix things up a little."

"Sounds good, babe," Jake nodded.  "But make sure you save that for after I'm home, 'kay?" 

"Will do.  Luckily, she mostly does breakfast for dinner in the winter, anyway," she reminded.  "And always for Shrove Tuesday, just on the Sunday before."

"Doesn't that make it Shrove Sunday?" he joked.  "Only problem I see is that you're gonna hafta sacrifice a pancake or two if you're gonna have room for dessert bagels.  And to get those kinda bagels we're gonna hafta go to Fielding."

"I can forego one pancake in favor of a dessert bagel," Heather conceded, picking off a bit of cake and frosting with her fingers.  "But actually, the Cyberjolt Café – that's the new coffee place and internet café in town – has pretty good bagels, including French toast and chocolate chip."

"Je—There's an internet café now?" he demanded, catching himself in the nick of time.  He really didn't know if Ravenwood would be recording this Skype session – he hoped to God not – but it was still good practice to never mention Jericho on an unsecured transmission.  "Are you sure the town's hip enough for that?"

"Who knows?  Maybe internet cafés are passe now, Jake.  That's actually what I like about where we live, you know.  This town is just my speed," she added, doing a better job than him of maintaining operational security.  "I'm a geek, so being 'hip' isn't really my thing."

"Not really my thing either.  Geeky's more my thing," he claimed, "You're my thing."

"You're my thing, too, hon," she assured him, licking her fingers clean and then gifting him with a wide smile.

"So, wow, we have an internet café and a local source of bagels," Jake summarized.  "That's crazy."

"Yeah.  Having made the mistake of asking about bagels at McBee's that one time," Heather recalled, "I think that's actually the crazier part."

"Babe, I'm not sure the McBees have ever left Kansas," he told her.  "I've left Kansas, but I still didn't have a bagel until I was ten and Mom took Eric and me to visit my uncle Dennis in California."

"I just thought bagels are round with a hole like a doughnut.  It didn't seem impossible," she reasoned, shrugging.

"Just be happy that the Cyberjolt came to town and brought bagels."

"Okay," she sighed, "And honestly, the Cyberjolt has the best coffee in town.  Best source of coffee since I've lived here, anyway."

"You are my go-to consult on the quality of coffee everywhere, so I'm guessin' it's the best coffee the town's ever seen," he reasoned.  "But this coffee," he said, toasting the camera with his paper cup, "Still sucks."

"Isn't it too hot for coffee?  What's the temperature there today, Jake?"

He shrugged.  "I don't know, babe.  Over a hundred, hundred and ten, maybe?  But don't worry about me, I had the easiest route available this morning, my A/C worked, the A/C works in here.  It's all good.  Your birthday was kinda a gift for me.  So Happy Birthday Heather.  And, thanks."

"Right on time," she observed, grinning.  "And, I'm glad you got a bit of a break for my birthday.  Knowing that is a gift to me, too.  Also, if the coffee sucks, and it's that hot out, you really don't hafta drink it."

"Heather Green is telling me to not bother with coffee?  Who are you and what'd you do with my wife?" Jake teased.

"The rule is you can't go wastin' good coffee," she clarified.  "Bad coffee, sucky coffee and decaf coffee need not apply."

"Right.  That's a good rule.  So, have we finished thing two?  Ready for thing three?"

"I think thing two ate thing three.  We can skip the third thing.  It's not important," she insisted. 

"C'mon, Heather," Jake cajoled, "You said three things, so what's the third thing?"

"I'm telling you, it's not a big deal."

"Anything you start sayin' is not important and not a big deal, that basically means that it is," he informed her.  "I know this because I'm the person who knows you on the deepest level.  So, what is it?  What were we even talking about back when you started up the three things game?"

"You wouldn't avert your eyes when I was making a pig of myself.  But that's okay, this cake is worth being piggish for," she declared, stabbing together another large bite.  "Thank you, Jake, for my cake.  And I did not mean to rhyme that," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.  "Anyway, it's a very sweet gesture, not to mention delish, and thank you and I love you," she finished, finally raising her fork to her mouth.

"You're welcome, and I love you, too.  You gonna be okay for Field Day?"

She nodded.  "I think so.  And if not, it'll be worth it.  Besides, I don't actually want to think about Field Day yet – I may have to umpire."

"God, babe, I'm sorry," he frowned.  "I – I just figured you'd get enough volunteers."

"I did.  It's just there's a combination of teams that none of them can umpire for," she explained, exhaling in frustration.  "But your dad may still save me.  Your mom was gonna ask him last night if he'd umpire, which would get me out of it.  The Green men are totally my heroes," she smiled.

"He'll do it," Jake predicted, "For you, he'll do it.  But I'm still sorry.  I'm the one who's supposed to be your hero umpire at the softball tournament."

"You're my hero all the time, hon.  And my all-time hero," Heather joked.  "Just this Field Day – fingers crossed – your dad is also gonna be my hero.  So, thanks for having the foresight to have him as your father."

"Pretty sure that was not me," Jake grumbled, a grimace settling on his lips.  "Sorry.  He and I are … I dunno … right now.  But hey, now that he's helping you out for the tournament, I won't think he's a complete jackass, okay?"

For a moment, she looked like she had a paragraph or two to say in response, but she surprised him by settling for a wan smile.  "I'll take it."

"So, your third thing – you were gonna yell at me about my 'naked on the internet' crack," he guessed.  "I'm right, right?  So, c'mon, lemme have it."

"I wasn't gonna yell at you," she claimed, before taking a long sip of her coffee.

"Babe, I was being a jerk, you should yell at me when I'm bein' a jerk."

"You weren't a jerk, and I was being a prude," she argued.  "So sorry that sometimes I'm a prude—"

"Heather, you're not a prude," Jake contradicted, interrupting her.  "You've got standards … or boundaries.  You've got boundaries," he decided, running a nervous hand through his hair.  "And you put up with me pushing on your boundaries, probably more than you should."

"You do like to push the envelope, that's for sure," she sighed.  "Which is good.  Sometimes, I need a little push."

"And sometimes I just won't let something die and I keep talking about being hmm – hmm on the hmm – hmm," he reminded. 

She shook her head at him, fighting a smile.  "Well, at least you redacted this time.  I mean, what on earth could you possibly be talking about?"

"Anybody's guess," Jake nodded.  "Maybe 'food poisoned on the airplane', or 'robbed on the train'."

"Neither of those is good, hon."

"How 'bout 'proposed to on the water tower'?  'Married on the hottest day of the year'?"

"I definitely like those better," Heather told him. 

"And I love you exactly how you are.  Which is not a prude," he insisted.  "I just wish I was home, 'cause, you know, any day you make me get up at five AM, I'll admit it, I kinda hope for some being hmm – hmm, no internet involved."

"Jake," she groaned.

"Hey, I said hope – not expect."

On his screen, she squared her shoulders, her gaze narrowing slightly, though there was laughter in her eyes.  "Okay, three things—"

"So, we're back to this game," he said, affecting a put-upon sigh.

"We so are," she proclaimed.

"What are these three things then?" Jake inquired, grinning at her.

"Thing A—"

"Way to mix it up, babe," he complimented.

"I try.  Thing A is, I'm pretty sure you got up at three AM today, so I'm going to have slightly less sympathy when you have to get up at five or six AM in the future," Heather informed him.  "I will still be sympathetic," she clarified, picking off another bit of cake with her fork, "Just not quite as sympathetic as I used to be."

"I can live with that," he decided, adding a beat later, "Long as 'sympathetic' still means you're gonna kiss me senseless."

"Hmmm," Heather murmured, sucking on the tines of her fork, while she pretended to ponder what she was going to say next.  "Well… I guess… I mean… something like that," she told him, clearly enjoying her chance to torture him just a little bit.

Jake couldn't quite suppress his grin at her antics, but he still decided to continue to play on her compassion and love for him.  The fact that she knew exactly what he was up to actually made it more fun. "You do know that the only reason I manage to get up at three AM here, is 'cause I remind myself that it's seven PM back at home," he explained, allowing an exaggerated sigh.

"That makes it better, huh?  Easier?"

"Thinkin' about you and what you're doing always makes things better," he shrugged.  "And, when I'm getting up at three AM, I know that you're probably writing me an email to tell me all about your day.  Gives me something to look forward to for later, babe.  So, yeah, I can get up at three in the morning here since it's seven in the evening in at home."

"That's very sweet, hon," she said, smiling at him fondly.

He smiled in return, continuing, "Though, middle of my shift, seven to noon's hard.  I know you're asleep, and I just want to be asleep too, wrapped around you."  Just because it was over the top, he thought, didn't mean it wasn't true.

"You're making it very hard to enjoy telling you about thing B," she accused gently, frowning.  "And on my birthday to boot."

"Laid it on a little thick, huh?"

"Just a bit," she confirmed, holding up one hand to show about a half inch of space between her thumb and index finger.  "But that's okay.  That's what I want too."

"Still meant it," he assured.  "And, Happy Birthday, babe.  Just tell me thing B like you were always planning to, 'kay?"

"Well, now there's a thing A dot two.  Second bullet under thing A, anyway."

Jake laughed at that.  "How'd that happen, babe?"

Heather grinned at him, taking another bite of cake – though again, he noted that it was mostly frosting.  "Have you met me, hon?"

"I've met you," he confirmed, "And I like you.  A lot."

"So, you just like me, huh?"

"Hmmm.  Actually, on second thought, I'm pretty sure I love you."

"Pretty sure?" she pressed, her smile widening.  "And do you love me or do you love me a lot?"

"Definitely a lot."  His smile was as big as hers.  Bigger, really.  "I love you more than … anything."

"Good," she acknowledged.  "Because last week you said that when you got home you were gonna walk me out every morning at six-fifteen, six-thirty, so I'm not a dork who loses her keys getting into the car." 

"I did say that," he agreed.

"That's going to require that you get up at six."

"To walk you out?  Babe, all I need is five minutes to pull on jeans and have a half cup of coffee," Jake claimed.

"Seven," his wife countered.  "You need shoes, and I need a kiss."

"Shoes are optional, and kissing's on your time, not mine."

"You need shoes, Jake," Heather repeated.  "If you don't wear shoes, I am pretty much guaranteed to step on your foot.  And the shoes I wear to school, some of 'em could permanently disable you."

"If you're planning to permanently disable me, babe, I respectfully request that you choose a different method," he returned, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes at that.  "Well, if kissing's on my time, I'm gonna hafta be out the door at six fifteen sharp.  Just in case my actual departure is somehow delayed."

"I'll set my alarm for six-oh-eight, okay?"

"That works."

"So, what's thing B, babe?" he asked.

"Thing B is that I never make you do anything," Heather insisted.  "I simply explain to you the benefits of you choosing to hang out with me.  Admittedly in direct opposition to your natural sleep habits.  And of course," she smiled, "One of those benefits is that you get to hang out with me." 

"Very chicken or egg," Jake observed.  "And the benefit I prefer to think about is that I can hope for being hmm – hmm with you at some point," he grinned.  "Which – when you think about it – is still hanging out with you."

She was shaking her head at him again, the color rising in her cheeks, but also trying not to laugh.  "True.  And, I did tell you that if you wanted me to blush, you better plan what you were gonna say to me," his wife groaned.  "So, I did it to myself."

"I didn't plan to say any of this, babe.  You know I'm not that good of a planner," he reminded, leaning in closer to the laptop and its' camera.  "Honestly, my only plan for this breakfast date of ours was to say 'Happy Birthday, Heather' and 'I love you'.  After that, I was happy to just spend an hour staring at you like a dumbass, watching you eat cake."

"Thank you, and I love you, too," she returned, before scolding, "And don't call yourself a dumbass –you're not, and also, I would never have married one of those, got it?"

"Yeah, babe."

"And no way you would've just stared at me for an hour," Heather continued.  "You and me, we always find something to talk about.  Case in point."

"Sometimes we make out."

"Yeah, and we still talk – some – while we're making out."

"Can't make out right now," he grumbled.  "Guess we're just gonna hafta play the three things game."

"Which brings us to thing C," she decided.  "Because, as you are aware, on Field Day we hafta be at school by seven thirty," she reminded.  "Wearing shoes and shorts and shirts.  So, the being hmm – hmm usually comes later in the day, that's all."

"Usually, not always."

"Jake!"

"I just mean we both need to take a shower," he suggested, shrugging.  "To wake up, personal hygiene, that sort of thing."

"Right," she sighed.  "Jake—"

"I'm stopping okay," he declared, preempting whatever she was going to say.  "If only because when I do finally get home, I don't wanna be in the doghouse with Baron."

"You're not gonna be in the doghouse, Jake."

"Well, it'd be punishing yourself, too."

"Exactly.  Very self-defeating.  So, Baron's kicked out, but you're not." 

"I'm glad I rate above the dog," he sighed, quoting his wife back to herself.

"Always, hon," Heather smiled.

"Okay, time for you to check your email," Jake declared.  "Because even though you claim that all you need is a Skype call and a cake for your birthday, I did get you another present.  So, you should check your email," he cajoled, "So you can see what it is.  I'm sure the suspense is killing you."

"I'm more than fine with a Skype call and cake for breakfast for my birthday.  I'm great with it, actually.  I don't need another present."

"I already got you the other present," he argued, requesting, "Babe, just check your email, okay?  And, Happy Birthday."

"I can check my email later," she countered.  "Don't think it's worth giving up my chance to look at you for two or three minutes.  Not like the email goes away, right?"

"How 'bout I check mine at the same time," he bargained.  "And, now that school's gonna be out, you're gonna be off, we'll be able to Skype once a week, maybe."

Heather groaned, closing her eyes for a moment.  "I'll check my email, but don't check yours," she told him.  "What I sent you last night, I don't wanna waste time talking about it on this call.  I was stupid—"

"Hey!" Jake interrupted, "You don't get to call my wife 'stupid', especially on her birthday, 'kay?"

'I think that's my line, but okay," she sighed.  "I won't call myself stupid.  Just – just don't read my email until later, okay?  I get one more call today, right, so we can talk about it then."

"Twenty minutes ago, you wanted me to check my email."

"I hadn't had my coffee yet.  I wasn't thinking.  Just – just wait to read it, okay?" she requested.

"I'll wait to read my email," he agreed.  "And I'm gonna call you once the softball tournament is over.  Start at two, and you answer when you can answer, okay?"

"Okay, but you'll keep calling, right?  Every five minutes?"

"Every five minutes," he confirmed.

"And when you read my email….  I was just thinkin' something through, so don't freak out."

"Little freaked out that you need to tell me to not freak out," he grumbled.

"Don't freak out," she ordered.  "And I'm opening my email now, but you should feel free to stare at me like a good trophy husband."

Jake chuckled at that, watching as she set aside her coffee mug so she could use the laptop's keyboard.  "On it, babe."

"Oh good!" Heather exclaimed twenty seconds later.  "Your dad's on board as my fourth umpire.  I looked at his email first," she admitted, her expression turning the slightest bit guilty.  "Sorry."

"'S'okay," he acknowledged.  "Told you he would." 

"That's a relief," she murmured before letting out a long breath.  "And, okay, what did Jake get me for my birthday?"

"You do know that I'm sitting right here," he complained.  "Staring at you."

"Yes, but I can't see you right now," she reminded, her gaze unknowingly meeting his for a split second.  "So, this is interesting…." 

Heather trailed off.  Besides Johnston's email, which had come in at three minutes after midnight, there were a number of advertising emails in her inbox, and two from Jake.  The one from his personal account had arrived, apparently, just as he'd called her as its timestamp was thirteen-forty-two, Baghdad time.  The second email was from his DEA account and had come in at a minute after six AM Central time with a subject line of "BABE – READ THIS ONE".  She double-clicked that email to open it.

 

* * * * * *

 

---

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Tue Jun 06 14:01 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: BABE - READ THIS ONE

Attachments:

---

 

Happy Birthday Heather.  I love you!

If you followed directions you didn't bother opening the email from the other Jake Green.  That email lets you know that I got you a Coffee of the Week Club subscription for a year.  I actually did get you that.  Enjoy it Babe.  The first pound of coffee should arrive today.  Happy Birthday.

Now for the part that the other Jake Green can't do even though he would if he could.  That Jake Green loves his wife just as much as I love mine.  He's just made a few more crappy choices in his life than me.  But we made the exact same best choices in life.  That's you in case you're wondering.

As long as you don't hate it I'm thinking we go to Hawaii for our trip.  Not as exciting as the French Riviera or the Amalfi Coast.  I need to travel back to the US under the other Jake Green's passport to maintain cover and just to be safe it's better I don't travel out of the country on my actual passport.  Hawaii is about as exotic as I can manage this time.  Sorry Babe.

I know you like their pizza (for some reason) and you'd get to check another state off your list.  But if you have some grudge against the Aloha State that I don't know about then maybe we could go to San Diego?  Stay a couple of days at the Del if I can't find a condo for the entire time.

So on our Skype date you can't tell me "yay Hawaii" or "San Diego here we come" or "Try again Jake".  Well you could probably think of a way to tell me that. 

Anyway if you're good with Hawaii tell me "Coffee for a whole year?  It's too much but I'll take it.  I love you Jake."

If you want San Diego tell me "You do know I go through more than a pound of coffee a week right?  And that's just for me.  What are you planning to drink Hon?  I love you Jake."

And if it's try again Jake tell me "This is the craziest present you've ever given me and that includes this cake.  I love you Jake."

And yes the "I love you Jakes" are required no matter your choice.  They just are.  Mostly because I love you and I miss you and I need to hear it. 

That's the main point of this email.  I promised to tell you where we're going so I'm making good on that.  Also remember that this is not a birthday present it's an anniversary present.  You are required to let me spend money on you for our anniversary.  It's in the pre-nup.

We can talk more later today.  I'll call you after school from my personal cell so you can tell me all about Field Day.  2pm?  2:15, 2:30?  You can tell me on Skype what time works best for you.  I asked this same question in the other email about the coffee club.

The coffee club isn't your only present but we can't talk about your other present on an unsecure connection.  It should arrive about 4pm or 4:30 at the house so you need to be available to answer the door ok?  You'll recognize the delivery person don't worry.  I'm going to call you again around 4:45 from my personal cell but go ahead and get rid of me pretty quick.  Tell me you need to take a shower before dinner with Mom and April. Maybe give me a minute to complain that I don't get to join you.  I'll call you again on a secure line right after.  Within 10 minutes. 

I hate that I have to do things this way.  I promise it will never be like this again after this assignment is done.

So last thing.  I'm 75% - 95% sure I can do one last call about 8pm KS time from my secure location.  If I can't get there I'll still call you.  I don't have to report for work tomorrow until 6:30am Baghdad so we'll have time to talk.  Just ask me where I'm calling from and if I don't tell you "a good place to talk" you'll know I couldn't get there.  But I should be able to make it.  I need to check in with Denver anyway so I'll be doing that while you're at dinner. 

I love you Babe.  I love you and I miss you and Happy Birthday.

 

Jake

---

 

* * * * * *

 

"I did not know that there was such a thing as the Coffee of the Week Club," Heather murmured.  "Wow, Jake."

He nodded before recalling that she couldn't see him.  "Me either.  It's actually the Coffee of the Month Club, but if you dig into their website, you can find the hardcore option, so that's what I did.  Keep reading, babe," he ordered quietly.

She read for a few more seconds, and then chuckling softly said, "Coffee for a whole year?  Seriously, that's too much, hon."

"But you'll take it, right?  I'm pretty sure the subscription is nonrefundable, and it's gotta be good coffee."

"Better than what you're drinking."

"I'm not gonna drink it.  My wife says that's okay.  Not completely sure I believe her though.  She's a coffee fiend."

"It's okay.  And this coffee's gonna be way better than even the Cyberjolt Café," she declared confidently.  "I know it.  This present – it's too much, but I will absolutely take it, hon," she decided.  "I'd take it even if it was refundable, and even though it's too much.  Because it's from you.  I love you, Jake.  Thank you."

"You're welcome, and I love you, too," he returned.  He offered her a nod and a pleased smile.  'Hawaii it is.'  "You're sure a pound of coffee a week is enough though?" he asked, just to make sure that was her answer.  "I mean, I wouldn't want you to run out or anything."

"I don't drink a pound's worth of ground coffee all by myself in a week, Jake," Heather protested, shaking her head ever so slightly.  'No, not San Diego.  Not this time.'  "I'm a fiend, but not quite that much of a fiend."

"Debatable," he teased.  "But that's okay, I love you, coffee fiend."

"There will be enough for me to share with you when you get home, okay?" she declared, adding, "Well, as long as you never have more than two cups in a day.  And, I love you, too."

"I'll play by your rules, Mrs. Green," he grinned.  "Two cups at home, hit the Cyberjolt later in the day if I need to, right?"

"That's pretty much what I'll be doing, too," she smiled in return.  "I love it when we're so in synch."

"Me too, babe."

"So, when I was talking to your mom yesterday about Field Day, I told her about how you rewrote the softball tournament rules for me," Heather informed him, changing the subject suddenly.  "And I told her that was the sweetest birthday present you ever gave me.  Well, this is a close—"

"Babe, that wasn't a birthday present."

"You always say that," she complained.  "But it sure felt like a present, and you sent me the file on my birthday."

"It was a present, just not a birthday present," Jake grumbled.  "Your birthday was two days later.  I maybe hurried to get the rules done so I could give 'em to you on your birthday," he conceded.  "But I would've done it even if your birthday had been six months away.  It needed to be done, and it was somethin' I could do for you."

"Oh my God," Heather swore, groaning softly.  "I finally get it."

"Whaddya mean you 'finally get it'?" he frowned.

"I always thought it was funny how you kept saying it wasn't a present," she shrugged, smiling at him.  "Because it was such a great present – the sweetest present ever, honestly."

"It was a present," he repeated, "Just not a birthday present."

"And the sweetest not-a-birthday-present-but-still-a-present present ever."

"You say so," Jake sighed.  Her cell phone rang then – he recognized the ringtone she'd assigned to all her family in Buffalo – and she picked it up, flipping it open and declining the call in one quick movement.  "Who was it, babe?"

"My dad," she answered, "But it's okay, Jake, I'll call him later."

"You could've taken it," he told her.  "I'd've been fine, sittin' here watchin' you while you talked to him.  He wants to tell you 'Happy Birthday'.  Everyone's gonna call you today, 'cause they all wanna tell you 'Happy Birthday', babe.  He loves you, they all love you."

"I'll call him back on my way to school, promise.  And I'll talk to everyone else at some point," Heather assured.  "Just not at two o'clock when I get to talk to you," she continued, her voice taking on a sultry quality.  She smiled sweetly into the camera, asking, "And do you know why?"

"Because you'll be talking to me," he returned, being deliberately obtuse.

"Well, yeah," she acknowledged, shaking her head at him.  "But. Much. More. Importantly.  Because I love you, Jake," she sighed.  "And I miss you.  And, I thought maybe you needed to hear that."

"Always need to hear that, Heather," he confirmed, smiling at her gently.  Sure, he'd basically demanded she say it in his email, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate her willingness to go along with it.  "Good to know, better to hear."

"I mentioned that to your mom yesterday, and she told me that she told you that the night before our wedding.  You forgot to tell me that part," she chided lightly. 

"I didn't know that the when of giving the advice was that important," he defended himself with a shrug.  "I thought it was the advice that was important."

"That's true," she conceded.  "Sooo, what else did she tell you about getting married?  That night specifically."

"Never go to bed angry," Jake returned immediately.

"Same advice everyone else gives," Heather chuckled softly.  "'Never go to bed angry' is, like, the equivalent of how they say in a job interview if they ask what your greatest flaw is, you should say you're a workaholic."

"I'd never hire anyone who'd say that in a job interview," he grumbled, "Not that I ever interview anyone for a job."

"Me either!" she declared.   "I mean, I think that's a bad answer.  I do hafta interview people sometimes.  And, when someone says that when I'm on an interview panel at school, it's always a thumbs down from me."

Jake laughed at that.  "Babe, you're the biggest workaholic I know.  You and my dad.  Half my job as your trophy husband is to make you not be a workaholic.  So, you know, I try."

"Well, why do you think I married you?" she giggled in return.  "You are very good at being distracting, and that includes distracting me from my workaholic tendencies."

"That's why you married me?  And here I thought it was for my … shall we say prowess?"

This made Heather giggle harder, a blush blooming on her cheeks.  "I married you for both those things, and a coupl'a others," she informed him.  "But we're not talking about that right now.  So," she demanded, taking a deep breath, "What else did your mom say the night before we got married?"

"I dunno," he shrugged.  "Good to know, better to hear; don't go to bed angry; uh …."  He paused a second.  "Oh, I know – she said that most arguments are about small stuff, so if something was more important to you, I should 'resist the urge to indulge in the Green penchant for stubbornness'," he quoted, joking, "Whatever that means."

"Oh, I know what that means, and you do too," she said, her tone rueful.  "Though, that's probably advice better aimed at me, to be honest.  I'm more stubborn than you."

"Sometimes," he agreed, "But not always.  It just proves you were always destined to be a Green."

"I like to think so," she smiled.  "But your mom's advice is usually – or always – pretty good.  So, I'm gonna take it.  Try to figure out which of us thinks something's more important, and go from there."

"Hope we can do it, babe."

"So, what else did she tell you?" Heather pressed. 

"Uh, vive la différence," Jake returned.  "Embrace the difference, something like that, right?  That's how Mom translated it."

"Your French accent is, uh, not good, hon," she informed him.  "And, yeah, something like that.  'Long live difference' is the exact translation."

"My French accent is non-existent, and my Spanish accent just gets me mocked," he sighed.  His Spanish accent was actually not that bad, at least when he was in certain circles in South America, but Freddie Ruiz had found it hilarious the one time he'd popped off Spanish about something one of their roommates had done, so now he kept his Spanish language thoughts to himself.  "But she basically meant that … it's good we're not exactly the same, I guess?"

"I certainly think so," she smiled.

"She said it 'cause we'd made hot fudge sundaes – a hot fudge sundae, because we were splitting it – and I told her that when you have a sundae, you put gummy bears on it," he explained, making a face.  "Not that I really care – it's your weird tastebuds, not mine.  But that's what she said to that: 'long live difference'.  Which pretty much means love you for the weird stuff too, right?"

"I also love you for your weird stuff, hon," she reminded.  "And your mom's a smart lady.  But you had hot fudge sundaes after we had regular pizza and dessert pizza at the rehearsal dinner?" Heather demanded, sounding equal parts amused and annoyed. 

"Hey, there was a salad bar too," Jake offered.  "I had a vegetable."

"Yeah, the kind you find in a pizza parlor," she griped. "I was seriously considering becoming bulimic for a day just so I'd still fit my wedding dress, and you had a hot fudge sundae," she muttered, giving him a credible version of his mother's practically patented 'look'.  Still, she stopped glaring at him long enough to stab together another bite of cake.

"Well, Mom complained the whole time that she wasn't gonna fit in her dress," he shrugged, "But I assume she did, because she was wearing a pretty fancy dress and she looked good.  And you looked great.  Gorgeous.  Hope you didn't actually make yourself throw up."

"I wore Spanx," she confessed.  "And the only thing I ate until the reception was one hard-boiled egg.  I was starving," she groaned.  "And I still only got like five bites of food.  But you know, vive la difference."

"You had cake, too," he argued.  "That was the other thing Mom talked about.  There was a whole section on wedding day advice: 'don't lock your knees or you'll pass out' and 'I'll disown you if you even think about shoving cake in Heather's face'.  She didn't say 'young man' but it was implied.  And that wasn't something I was ever gonna do," he insisted, holding both hands up as if to show he was unarmed.  "I always thought that was a jerk move."

"It is a jerk move," Heather confirmed, "So it will come as no surprise to you that of all my brothers, only Tommy—"

"Of course," Jake grunted.

"Mandy got him back," she assured.  "And I ate all my cake.  At our wedding reception. And then, like, half of yours."

"I had my suspicions," he admitted.  "One minute I had cake, and then I didn't."

"Stanley and Eric dragged you off for some reason, and it was just sitting there.  So, I had a bite," she confessed.  "And then another one, and then two more." 

"Well, what's mine is yours, right?" Jake declared, throwing her a lopsided grin.  "Officially for, like, three whole hours by then.  But if I'd known you hadn't eaten anything, I would've straight up given you the cake.  Hell, I would've made you a peanut butter sandwich while you were takin' your shower."

She was smiling at him again, the smile that always made him feel ten feet tall.   "Thanks, hon," she sighed.  "And you know how you sent me that list a few days ago?  The things you remember from our wedding?  That was a very good list, by the way.  But, oh my God, our three AM picnic," she moaned softly.  "That was the best."

"That was great," he agreed, smiling in return.  They both fell silent for a long moment before he, reluctantly broke it, saying "It's almost seven, babe."

"I know," she frowned, claiming, "But I've got a few minutes." 

"You don't have things you need to do before you go?  Brush your teeth?  It's Field Day – you hafta be there by seven-thirty, or the world ends or somethin'."

"Nothing quite so drastic, I promise."

 "I love you," Jake said then.  "And I miss you.  And Happy Birthday, Heather."

"Trying to get rid of me?" his wife chuckled though her heart clearly wasn't in it.

"Well – technically – you're the one who insists that we have jobs," he reminded.  "Plus, you keep telling me how much you love yours."

"Fine," she huffed softly.

"Look, I'm gonna go right now and see if I can get a reservation for one of these rooms since you'll have a wide-open schedule next week, okay?"

"Okay."

"And, I'm gonna start callin' you at two o'clock sharp, and we can talk for as long as you want. That's only—"  He broke off, realizing that it was longer than either of them really wanted to wait.

"It's seven hours, Jake," she frowned.  "Too long.  And then, this afternoon, I'm gonna need to go get ready for dinner with your mom and April," she reminded, once again playing along with his cover story.  "So, we can't just keep talking as long as we want."

"Then I'll call you again even later," he promised.  "Whenever I can getcha."

"Okay.  But – just between you and me – you, Mr. Green, can pretty much get me whenever you want," she flirted halfheartedly.  "Just so you know."

"Well, Mrs. Green, that's always," he returned, "No 'pretty much' about it.  Just always."

"I love you, Jake."

"I love you, too.  And Happy Birthday."

"Thanks."

"You better go," he prompted, twenty seconds later.  "But, uh, tell everyone 'hi' from me, okay?  When you talk to 'em today.  Even my dad.  And don't forget to call your dad back, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded, sucking in a deep breath through her teeth.  "Tell everyone 'hi', including both our dads.  I love you, Jake.  So, so much."

"Love you more," he returned, their gazes locking over the nearly eight thousand miles that separated them.

"I'm not sure that's possible, hon, but okay," she sighed, flashing him a watery smile.

"Today it is, Heather.  Just because you deserve it.  You deserve everything, just gonna hafta settle for me loving you more – the most – for today at least, okay?"

"Just for today."  On her computer screen, her husband offered her one more smile – his sweetest grin, the one she absolutely loved – before tapping his trackpad, ending their connection.

 

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

 

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 7.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

Cake and ice cream for breakfast is a birthday tradition of a work colleague's family.  I've thought it was the neatest tradition for twenty years and enjoy seeing the pictures posted to social media every year.  It seemed like just the sort of tradition that Jake and Heather might choose to adopt for themselves.

Estes Park Colorado is a popular summer resort and the location of the headquarters for Rocky Mountain National Park.  The town offers plenty of outdoor recreational activities as well as a shopping and restaurant district.  Plus, you can always go into the national park for even more outdoor activities!

Hostess CupCake is an American brand of snack cake produced and distributed by Hostess Brands.  It is purported to be the first commercially produced cupcake.  The most common version is a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing and vanilla crème filling, with seven distinctive white squiggles across the top.

Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent).  Shrove Tuesday is related to Mardi Gras which is French for Fat Tuesday, referring to the practice of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the Lenten season beginning on Ash Wednesday.  Many Christian congregations observe the day through eating pancakes and specifically through holding pancake breakfasts.  So, the Greens in the Different Circumstances universe have observed Shrove Tuesday by eating pancakes at Sunday dinner for at least as long as Gail has had something to do with planning Sunday dinner.  Heather, too, comes from a family that observes Shrove Tuesday, so she heartily approves of this practice.

A bagel is a bread roll originating in the Jewish communities of Poland.  Jake is approximately ten months older than me, and I didn't encounter a bagel until I was about 10 years old.  My first bagel came, frozen, from the grocery store (Lender's Bagels) in 1984 or 1985.  So, I am giving Jake my basic experience, though he may have encountered his first bagel at a motel breakfast.  I first had a bagel because my mother's best friend had grown up in Los Angeles, and she spotted frozen bagels in the grocery store and insisted we had to try them.

The Del is a nickname for the Hotel Del Coronado (https://hoteldel.com/) on Coronado Island, just across the San Diego Bay from San Diego CA.  It is a rare surviving example of an American architectural genre – the wooden Victorian beach resort.  It is both a California and National Historic Landmark.  I have never been able to stay at The Del (I stayed across the street at a hotel on the old Spreckels mansion property), but I have dined there, as well as sipped cocoa while I watched ice skaters on the holiday rink they put up right on the beach.  It's a very beautiful and fancy hotel (April will refer to it as fancy-schmancy later in this story) with a storied history (that I think would appeal to both Jake and Heather) and is considered to be a world-renowned resort.  

Vive la difference is literally translated "long live difference", and it has been an internet meme about the difference between men and women for quite some time.  I don't think Gail Green was predicting that internet meme by quoting it to Jake in 2002.  Rather, I think she had probably seen the classic film, Adam's Rib, starring Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn as a pair of married attorneys who go up against each other in court in a case involving a woman who shot her husband.  They have a discussion about the differences between men and women and Tracy's character translates vive la difference as meaning "hurrah for that little difference". 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 7 

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 350 pages and now 8 or 9 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas (and Buffalo NY is an hour ahead of Jericho) so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 11:19 am (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

"All right if I join you?" Heather inquired of the other three Greens in attendance at Jericho Elementary's annual Field Day.  They were in the lunch break, and while she had attempted to take charge of her class for the boxed lunch picnic, her room mothers had been unwilling to hear of it. 

 

"Everything is under control," Darla Peterman (mother of Emma P) had assured Heather two minutes earlier.  "We are perfectly capable of looking after twenty-five kids for a half hour," she'd added, gesturing at Melissa Landeros, her co-room mom for the year.

"Exactly," Melissa had confirmed, nodding vigorously.  "Plus, a little birdie told me that today's your birthday," she'd informed Heather, cocking her head toward Mrs. McVeigh, who was keeping a watchful eye on a knot of seventh and eighth grade boys as they selected their boxed lunches.  "So, think of this as a birthday present.  Happy Birthday!" 

"We've been with them all morning," Darla had added.  Field Day was one of the biggest days of the year on the school calendar, and the core group of twenty or so room parents (for the first time ever there had been a room father this year, prompting the PTA to change the official title from room mothers to parents) had taken charge of shepherding the students to and from their events while the teachers had overseen those events with the help of even more parent volunteers.  "And we've done pretty good, haven't had to haul even one of them over to see Doctor Green at the first-aid station, not even for a band-aid."

"Knock on wood right now," Heather had ordered, laughing and looking around for something that would qualify, before finally reaching into her tote bag to produce a spiral notebook that she quickly rapped her knuckles on.  "Honestly, your kids are safe with me, but we do go through the band-aids in the third grade."

"We know," Melissa had smiled, clarifying, "That they're safe.  Our kids love your class.  But you should join your in-laws for lunch," she'd suggested, pointing to where Gail and Johnston stood off to the side, apparently unable to decide where to sit.  "Unless – unless you don't want to?" she'd squeaked, frowning at the possibility.  "I just figured you liked them.  I always liked them.  And, you at least like Doctor Green, right?" she'd asked, pointing at April who'd walked up to join the elder Greens, exchanging a quick hug with Gail.

"I do like them," Heather had chuckled, "All of them.  They're great.  I'm just—"

"Go!" Darla and Melissa had ordered, with Melissa suggesting, "But you can sit twenty feet away if you want, keep an eye on us."

"Well, thank you," Heather had sighed, finally acquiescing to their kind offer.  "This is very nice of you."

"We want to make sure you miss us next year," Darla had teased.  "Now, please, go Mrs. Green."

 

"I've been kicked out of the third grade, at least for today," Heather told her in-laws.  "Or for lunch to be completely accurate.  Though I've also been told I don't have to go very far.  But my room moms insist that they can handle things without me."

"We were hoping you'd join us, honey," Gail smiled, "Or invite us to join you."

"And it is your birthday," April reminded, squeezing between her parents-in-law to offer Heather a hug.  "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Heather laughed.  "And of course, I wanted to join you guys for lunch."

Gail handed the picnic blanket she'd had tucked under her arm to her husband.  "Would you set up for us?  Close to the third grade," she instructed.  "And, I assume you want ham?" she asked, handing him her purse.

"Ham would be nice, but I'll take roast beef in a pinch," Johnston answered, holding out his arm, inviting, "April?  Heather?"

Laughing, Heather threaded her tote bag onto his arm.  "Protect that with your life," she ordered, affecting an overly serious tone.  "Contained therein is the only record of this year's softball tournament's standings in existence."

"Mine's nowhere near as important as all that," April joked, handing her father-in-law her backpack.  "Just my favorite stethoscope, wallet and keys."

"Your Melissa Landeros is formerly Melissa Healy," Gail informed Heather as the three Green women got into line behind four sixth grade girls to pick up their boxed lunches.  "Marilyn Thom's niece," she said, naming her next-door neighbor.  "I recognized her right away."

"Really?" Heather returned, her tone laced with interest.  "So, Jake would know who she is, right?  If not by name, then if I told him she was Mrs. Thom's niece, right?  I asked him last week if he knew who she was and all he could say was 'maybe'."

"He should know who she is.  Melissa spent a lot of time with the Thoms growing up," Gail explained, grabbing a boxed lunch that had an 'H' scrawled in red marker on top.  "Melissa was her parents' – Marilyn's eldest brother and his wife's – change of life baby.  She's at least fifteen years younger than her siblings, but she's just a year younger than Lisa, and not even eighteen months older than Wendy.  Marilyn had the energy for Melissa, but I'm not sure her parents always did.  The kids all played together fairly often when they were little," she concluded, stacking a boxed lunch labelled with a blue 'RB' on top of her other box.  "As much as you would expect two little boys who claimed all girls have cooties to play with the three little girls next door, anyway.  But Jake should know who Missy Healy is."

"Well, I will ask him if he does," Heather decided, grabbing a turkey boxed lunch (marked with a black 'T') off the table.  She handed it to April, confiding, "He's calling me at two.  And again, at four forty-five."  She picked up another turkey box for herself, then led her mother- and sister-in-law down the line of tables to the drink station.  "He's even gonna try for another call after I get home from dinner, so, uh, don't be offended if I'm headed home right by seven thirty."

"I'd actually already been clued in on that," April said, tucking two bottles of water under one arm while Heather followed suit.  "So, I made us a reservation at Roma Italia for six, but they promised they'd seat us as early as five thirty if we're all there.  You'll definitely be home by eight, okay?"

"Thanks.  So, obviously you're in on Jake's plan for my birthday, too, huh?" Heather asked as the three of them started back toward Johnston and their picnic spot.

"Heather tricked me into telling her that Jake had a plan," Gail confessed then, sighing.  "And that there might be more to it than just delivery of one birthday cake."

"What I know is that Gail told me about the cake, and I arranged a dinner reservation," April listed, "And anything else – if there is anything else – you don't get to know about yet."

"'Fun surprises' Heather," her mother-in-law reminded.  "That's what he wants to give you for your birthday.  And you need to let him do that," she requested.  "Though I really think you want to let him do that for you."

Heather nodded, exhaling, "Yeah, I do."

Johnston stood as soon as he spotted the three women heading his way.  "Thank you, sweetie," he told his wife as she handed him his boxed lunch.  "And, thank you, darlin'," he smiled, accepting a bottle of water from April.

The four Greens seated themselves on the blanket, though before she could even open her box, Heather had to jump up to stop a pair of boys who were "sword fighting" with plastic knives. She confiscated the knives and then sent them back toward the fifth-grade teacher, Miss Duncan, who shook her head and threw her hands up in the air.  "What I don't get is where they even got these," Heather groaned, retaking her seat on the blanket.  "I mean, did they seriously put knives in the lunches this year?"

"I don't think I got one," April answered, rummaging through her box.

"I sure didn't get one," Johnston frowned, squirting the contents of his mustard packet on top of his ham and the rubbing the top half of his roll on the line of mustard. 

"Well, I can give you one of these if you really want a knife," Heather offered doubtfully. 

"Nah, I'll make due," her father-in-law returned, winking at her.

"If there's one thing I know about boys that age," Gail chuckled, "It's that they can turn anything into a weapon, and they're always looking for things to turn into weapons.  That's how they got 'em," she concluded.  "They were on the lookout."

"Yeah, that's pretty much boys in a nutshell," Heather grinned. 

"Now, what I want to know is how your breakfast date went," Gail declared, clarifying with her next breath, "Not the details, but did you two have a nice time?"

"We had a great time," Heather smiled, her whole face lighting up.  "And we've actually managed, like, three long conversations in the last week, but this was the best one.  We got to talk for a long time, and I got to see him finally."  She emitted a deep sigh, telling them, "He looked tired.  He says it’s the heat, and it probably is.  But it's also the work and the hours."

Gail frowned at that.  "Well, I don't like hearing that," she sighed.  "But I know he was looking forward to your breakfast date, so don't feel bad about getting the chance to talk to and to see him," she advised, extracting her roast beef sandwich from her box.  "If I know my son, he just said he'd sleep later."

"Pretty much," Heather agreed, flashing them all a wan smile.

"But I hope you remembered to ask him about the cake," Gail said.  "I'm curious to know the story behind that."

"I didn't actually," Heather chuckled, taking a sip from her bottle of water.  "I forgot to, but then he ended up telling me on his own.  It was for breakfast," she explained.

"The cake was for breakfast?" her mother-in-law repeated, her eyebrows arched in question.

Heather shook her head.  "I know.  It's crazy, and actually very sweet, and he was a little annoyed at first that I didn't realize—"

"He was annoyed?" his mother asked, sounding a little annoyed herself.

"What he said was that he thought I was the one person who would have realized what the cake was for," Heather explained.  "I'd told Jake that Kerry's family has always celebrated half birthdays, and that they also always have birthday-cake-for-breakfast on their birthdays.  I told him that was an idea I could get behind," she giggled.  "And I was joking, really.  But he took it to heart, and ordered the cake for me as soon as he could.  So then, he seemed a little annoyed that I didn't know what he was up to."

"Ah yes, that is a phenomenon I'm familiar with," Gail returned dryly, shooting her husband a mock dirty look.  "We are expected to just always know."

"Well, he can be annoyed with me this time because he's the only person who would ever go to that much effort to get me a birthday cake for breakfast based on one offhand comment," Heather decided.  "And so, I ate way too much cake-for-breakfast, and we've agreed to adopt the tradition as our own from here on out," she grinned, "Including the cream cheese frosting on the Kahlua cake.  For me at least."

"Good Lord, that actually does sound like you two," April snickered.  "And I'm just surprised it's taken you this long to decide you should eat cake-for-breakfast."

"Well, I know that I sometimes have the eating habits of a fifteen-year-old boy," Heather allowed, laughing self-consciously.  "But I come by it honestly, at least.  I was raised amongst a bunch of teenage boys."

"You were just a rose among thorns, darlin'," Johnston teased.  "Though we have the reverse today, since I get to be the thorn amongst the roses."

"Thank you!" Heather replied, offering her father-in-law a pleased grin.  "And, for your information," she continued, glancing at April, " I only told Jake about the Burkes' tradition because of Megan's half birthday.  I'd completely forgotten about it, even though one time in high school when Maeve's birthday was on a Saturday, I was invited to spend the night on Friday, so I actually got to have a piece of cake-for-breakfast.  Anyway," she said, finally taking a breath.  "Jake wanted to know if celebrating half birthdays was a real thing.  So now, we're gonna have cake-for-breakfast on birthdays, and maybe we'll celebrate half birthdays too, who knows?"

"I think that's a very sweet tradition to start for your future family," Gail declared, smiling at the younger woman.  "Literally and figuratively."

"And Megan's a real little sweetheart," Johnston opined then, extracting the bag of potato chips that had come with his lunch from the box.

"I'll trade ya, Dad," April offered, pulling a bag of Fritos from her box.  "I know how much you like these."  He grinned his approval and they exchanged their bags.

"I'm going to need to trade, too," Gail declared a few seconds later, making a face and showing them all her bag of Cheetos.

"Eating habits of a fifteen-year-old boy," Heather reminded, pointing at herself and then showing her mother-in-law her own bag of sour cream and onion flavored potato chips.  "And thank you," she added, smiling at Johnston.  "Our niece and goddaughter is adorable, if I do say so myself."

"Now, those I'll eat," Gail confirmed.  "And you and Jake were very smart to accept John and Kerry's request that you be Megan's godparents," she teased.

"We were so honored!  But really it does appear to have been a very shrewd move on our parts," Heather joked.  "She's such a cutie."

 "So, did Jake finally tell you where you're going for your anniversary trip?" Gail inquired as she and Heather swapped chip bags.  "It turns out I actually do want very specific details on very specific subjects," she chuckled, exchanging grins with her daughter-in-law.  "But did he tell you, or is he saving that for later in the day?" 

"He told me, just very covertly," Heather laughed.  "We were on an unsecure connection, so what he actually told me to do was read my email.  He'd sent me one email from his DEA account, one from his regular account," she explained.  "But the one from his DEA account said 'READ THIS ONE' in all caps, and gave me three things I could say to him to let him know which option I picked.  Very secret squirrel stuff.  I picked the first one," she continued, tearing open her mustard packet and squirting it on top of the turkey layer of her turkey sandwich.  "It's where he wants to go, and that's fine by me.  I just wanna see him, spend some time together.  And if we get to do that in paradise, so much the better."  She held up the mayonnaise packet she'd found on the bottom of her box, offering, "Anyone want this?"

"I'll take it.  And I'll even trade you since it's your birthday," April proposed, holding up her own mustard packet.  "I know all about your phobia of shelf-stable dairy products – and things you think are dairy products even if they aren't."

"I just don't trust 'em," the younger woman confirmed, complaining, "So icky!  And mayonnaise is basically a dairy product.  It's got eggs, and that's close enough for my phobia.  They put eggs in the dairy case."

"Right.  And every year at Field Day, Jake always trades you his mustard for your mayo packet," April recalled knowingly.  "Even though he always gets ham, and ham with mayonnaise is disgusting.  Now that's true love."

"I, for one, like mayo with my ham," Johnston threw in.  "So, don't go knockin' it, if you don't mind.  And I think Jake likes it too."

"He does," Gail and Heather said in near unison.  "But," Heather continued, "It's still true love."

"It most definitely is," Gail agreed, shooting her daughter-in-law an encouraging smile. 

"Jake even told me this morning that he loves me for the weird stuff, too," she laughed.  "Which I assume includes my phobia of mayo packets and those 'Cheez'n'Crackerz' packs they sometimes give you on planes these days."

"Please, he's never even noticed that you don't eat 'Cheez'n'Crackerz'.  You just ask for something peanut butter based instead and that makes perfect sense to Jake," April returned.

Heather's only response was to shrug and take a bite of her sandwich.

"But where's paradise?" Gail asked.  "You didn't say."

"And what were the other options?" April added.  "I'm not kidding.  I'd like a real vacation this summer, and if there's one thing Jake's great at, it's vacations."

"We're going to Hawaii," Heather answered, grinning.  "That's paradise.  Like, literally."

"I met Johnston in Hawaii, when he had leave halfway through his third tour in Vietnam," Gail told her daughters-in-law, tearing a hole in and extracting an apple slice from the sealed bag that had come in her boxed lunch.  "First time I was ever on an airplane," she laughed, exchanging an affectionate glance with her husband.  "I've always liked to think of that week as our real honeymoon."

"We were still newlyweds when we were in Hawaii," Johnston argued, "I kinda like to think of that as our honeymoon, too, Mrs. Green.  Second half."

"Newlyweds, indeed," his wife confirmed, sighing.  "We'd been married for a year and a half, but we'd only spent five or six weeks of our marriage together at that point," she explained to her daughters-in-law.  "And our first honeymoon was three nights at the Rogue River Holiday Inn.  Not that that wasn't lovely," she assured Johnston, squeezing his arm.  "But no bride wants to send her new husband back to the army after two and a half days."

"Of course not!" Heather exclaimed.

Frowning, April finished smearing her second mayonnaise packet on her turkey sandwich.  "I would've hated that," she murmured, "And I'm the woman who came home from five days in Ensenada and then had so much work to make up she didn't really see her new husband for two weeks."  She looked at her mother- and sister-in-law, her expression turning sheepish.  "And I know that two weeks is nothing in comparison to – to six months?" she guessed.

"Well, it's only been four months, and we'll be together a month from now, so that's only five," Heather declared.  "And I'd totally take three nights at the Rogue River Holiday Inn," she admitted, smiling at Johnston and Gail, "But I'm glad we get sixteen days in Hawaii, mostly because it's sixteen days and not just three.  I don't think I could've survived only seeing Jake for a week every three months the first year and a half we were married," she sighed.  "I really miss him."

"We know, sweetheart," her mother-in-law consoled.  "And you know we're always here for you, whatever you need."

"I know.  And thank you," Heather said, smiling at Gail.  "And thank you," she repeated, glancing at Johnston.  "Because today I really needed an umpire, and that definitely makes you, my hero de jour."

"Happy to do it, Heather," her father-in-law replied, offering her a gentle grin.  "It's been a while since I umpired, but it was fun.  And I was impressed by how well those tournament rules work."

"Jake wrote 'em," she told him, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"I saw that," he acknowledged.  "He did a good job."

"That's what I thought," Heather agreed, "But ninety-nine percent of what I know about baseball, I learned from Jake, so I'm thinking if you tell him that it'd mean more.  More than me telling him for the hundredth time.  Just a guess."

Johnston froze for just a moment before offering her a sharp nod.  "I'll—"  He cleared his throat before continuing.  "I'll take that under advisement."

"So, how's the softball tournament going?"  Gail inquired.  "I was hoping to wander over and check out the two of you in action, but I had an assignment to organize the prize ribbons and then Sandy asked me to take over the relay races so Mrs. Goodhart could take a kindergartner who was having an asthma attack to see April."

"Wasn't actually an asthma attack," April corrected, "But still better not to risk it.  Poor kiddo has asthma, but this was just extreme excitement – not even a panic attack – she was just super excited about Field Day.  It was … very cute.  Ridiculously adorable," she sighed, forcing a smile.

"Well, I'm glad you were there to look after her," Heather told her sister-in-law.  "And, the tournament is going well," she continued, glancing at Gail.  "The third/sixth grade team is in the lead, but only by one point.  Jake's scoring system actually means we sometimes have a difference in the scores.  Not always, though."

"I've umpired one game so far," Johnston threw in, "Third/sixth versus second/seventh.  Bit of a blowout.  Four to one."

"Actually, the most exciting game of the day so far," Heather interjected.

"And depending on how the semis go – if second/seventh wins their game, I'll be umpiring the final game, otherwise it'll be Derek Hyde," Johnston explained.

"And I've got the paperwork and The Record article under control," Heather concluded, "So it's all good.  But if you can make the final, you might get to see Johnston in action.  Or not.  We'll see."

"I will try to be there," Gail promised.

"So, what were the other options?" April questioned, popping the last bite of an apple slice in her mouth.  "For your fancy-schmancy vacation.  I told you – I need vacation ideas."

"San Diego and 'try again, Jake'," Heather replied, shrugging.  "Which I was never gonna say.  It's not like he really has time to go planning vacations, so whatever he picked was gonna be fine by me.  And we both love San Diego," she continued, playing with a Cheeto before absently popping it in her mouth.   "But we can pretty much always go there.  You and Eric should try San Diego," she'd advised her sister-in-law.  "Stay at The Del, it's nice."

"I remember the pictures from your last trip," April reminded, grinning.  "That is a definite possibility.  It's like extra fancy-schmancy," she decided.  "But boy, Jake must be feeling pretty guilty about being gone for so long and everything.  And you turned down two weeks at The Del for Hawaii?"

"We're staying in a condo in Hawaii, and if we'd gone to San Diego for two weeks, we would've stayed in one there, too," Heather protested, scowling at her sister-in-law for a moment.  "It's not like we just go around wasting money," she insisted.  "But for a weekend – for a treat – The Del is a lotta fun.  And Jake isn't feeling guilty," she declared, pointing a Cheeto at April to emphasize the point.  "He's got nothin' to be guilty for."

"Sorry," April apologized, "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Heather said, exhaling a long breath.  "Look, I picked Hawaii because – as Jake pointed out – I like their pizza, and it'll be another state for my list.  Plus – and Jake didn't think of this – they grow coffee in Hawaii.  Of course, I picked Hawaii."

"Hard to believe you've waited twenty-seven years to go," Gail teased.  "But I've no doubt you two will have a lovely time."

"Yeah, I can't wait," Heather smiled in return.  "What'd you guys do in Hawaii?  Anything fun?" she inquired.  "Not that I'm asking for details of a—"

"Risqué nature?" Gail supplied, laughing softly.  "We do have an agreement after all, sweetheart."

Blushing, Heather made a face.  "Exactly," she groaned, "We don't need to talk about things of a – a private nature."

"Well, darlin', I'm not sure I have full understanding of your agreement with Gail," Johnston drawled, "But as I remember it, there's just somethin' about Hawaii that might inspire a risqué thought or two."

Shaking her head at her husband, Gail came to Heather's rescue.  "We visited Pearl Harbor, of course.  Went to a luau – that was an eye-opening experience for a barely twenty-one-year-old girl from Rogue River, Kansas, let me tell you.  But mostly, we just took walks on the beach and talked.  It was paradise – and a lovely place to reconnect."

"I think it'll be perfect for us," Heather decided.  "Also, I'm pretty sure there is no way I'm gonna be able to eat this," she announced, holding up the plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookie that had come in her boxed lunch.  "I'm still on a bit of a sugar high from having cake-for-breakfast," she admitted, chuckling along with her three companions.  "Johnston?" she offered, holding the cookie out to him.  "You did come to my umpiring rescue."

"Thank you, darlin'," he said, accepting the cookie.  "And you know, if there's ever anything you need from me – that goes for both of you," he added, catching April's eye.  "Well, all you have to do is ask."

Both his daughters-in-law smiled at that, declaring together, "Thank you!"

A few seconds later, Chuck Landeros approached the four Greens, clearing his throat to get their attention.  "Uh, Mrs. Green…."  He trailed off, settling for pointing toward where his wife and the other third grade room mother, Darla Peterman were consoling two crying girls, neither of whom were their respective daughters.

"Right behind you," Heather promised before glancing back at her family.  "Duty calls."

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 1:38 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

The little girl threw her arms around Heather's waist, declaring in a sing-songy voice, "I love you Mrs. Green!"

Heather laughed joyfully, cupping the child's head for a moment and assuring her, "I love you too, Madison.  Now," she continued a few seconds later, "You better get going." 

She pointed to Melissa Landeros, who was waiting about twenty feet away with her husband, her son, and seven other of Heather's students who hadn't yet been picked up by their parents.  Heather had tried to take responsibility for delivering them to the cafeteria – the After School Club aides had been asked to start ninety minutes early today – but Melissa had refused to hear of it. 

"It's still your birthday," she'd reminded.  "All day long, and even into the evening.  I can handle walking seven kids over for you, save you ten minutes of your life."

"Well, I am expecting Jake to call me any moment now," Heather had allowed.  "My Jake, I mean."

Melissa had laughed at that.  "Well, my Jake seems to have a little bit of a crush on you, so the clarification is actually helpful," she'd joked.  "Oh, ew!  I just heard myself, and I was not accusing you of anything, I swear."

"Didn't think you were," Heather had assured the other woman.  "Little boy crushes are kind of, uh, an occupational hazard of mine."

"I'm sure.  Besides, at least now I know my kid has great taste.  And, he's been way easier to get outta bed and to school all year, which is a nice change," Melissa had smiled.  "So, thank you for that.  His sister is a little annoyed that she has to share her favorite teacher with her brother, but she'll survive."   

"I have four brothers, so I can say I would've been annoyed too," Heather had chuckled.  "Luckily the teachers we had in common were all nuns, and I'm pretty sure they none of them ever had a crush on a nun."  She'd paused for a moment before declaring, "You know, I've really enjoyed having both your kids in my class this year, and am very grateful that you came along with them as a room mom.  So, thank you."

"You're welcome.  And thank you for saying that.  And Happy Birthday!"

Already three steps away, Madison called back over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Green.  You're my favoritest teacher ever!"

"Thanks, sweetheart," Heather called after the little girl as she skipped toward her parents, ending up between them, holding both their hands.  She let herself indulge in a moment of "thinking ahead" then, imagining herself and Jake walking with their child – their daughter – between them, clutching their hands and chattering away.  So involved in her flight of fancy – and trying to decide whether to set her scene a decade or a dozen years in the future – Heather missed hearing what her mother-in-law was saying to her and had to ask Gail to repeat herself.  "Sorry.  I was thinking about something else.  What did you say?"

Gail, her eyes bright with some private thought of her own, offered her daughter-in-law a gentle smile.  "I just said that I think we have proof that you are definitely not the 'other Mrs. Green', Mrs. Green," she declared, pointing after the Landeros family.  "Certainly not in that little girl's eyes.  Particularly because I'm positive she has no idea who I am!"

"The 'other Mrs. Green'?" April questioned from five feet away.  She was working to pack up the first-aid station with the assistance of her father-in-law.  "Who's the 'other Mrs. Green'?"

"I am!" Heather and Gail declared in unison, exchanging identical amused grins. 

"Heather and I were talking yesterday, and for some reason, she thinks of herself as the 'other Mrs. Green'," Gail explained. 

"I just said that most people hear 'Mrs. Green' and they think of Gail.  She's the original, so I'm the other one," Heather reasoned. 

"To be honest, I still think of Betsy as the original Mrs. Green," Gail admitted, "And myself as a bit of an upstart."

"If you're an upstart, what does that make me?  Mrs. Green in the larval form?"

April shook her head, rolling her eyes at her sister-in-law.  "Only you could go from upstart to larval in exactly one step," she complained.  "Though, the butterflies were a great way to kick off things this morning."

Heather and her students had raised over a hundred caterpillars that had only started emerging from their cocoons over the weekend.  Field Day always began with a small "opening ceremony" modeled after the Olympics, and the co-class presidents of the third grade – Jacob W and Samantha T – had released the butterflies at the exact moment Mayor Johnston Green had declared, "And now, let Field Day begin!"

"I'm glad it worked out, because I was really sweating it when I checked the science lab yesterday morning and we only had twelve or fifteen butterflies," Heather told the other three Greens, recounting, "But it was almost fifty by the time I took my class to the lab after lunch, and we got to watch a good dozen emerge from their cocoons while we were there.  And basically, everyone was a butterfly by this morning.  I should have trusted the science," she sighed. "The American Painted Lady butterfly only has a lifespan of two to four weeks, so timing their emergence from the cocoon for Field Day was a little tricky.  But I wanted to do one more life cycle lesson with them, and I figured we'd hit Field Day, awards day, or the last day of school.  Still, I'm really glad we hit Field Day."

"Well, you make it look effortless, sweetheart," Gail insisted.  "And you are a very good – an excellent – teacher."

"I'm glad you hit Field Day, too, 'cause it was a nice change of pace for me," Johnston threw in.  "Now I've got an inklin' of what it must feel like to be one of the gods.  I say 'Let Field Day begin!' and a beautiful cloud of butterflies goes up.  Makes me look like I've got some power 'round here.  And," he continued, hefting the medical center's field kit onto its rolling cart, "As the only living person who has known all five of the most recent Mrs. Greens – I'm including you in that list, Dr. Green—"

"Thank you, Dad," April interjected, grinning at her father-in-law. 

"But having known the five most recent claimants to the title," he repeated, "I can say you three are all a credit to it.  Nary an upstart amongst you."

"Johnston Green, you flirt," his wife accused, giving into a smile a few seconds later.  "Heather," she announced, turning to face the younger woman, "We're just going to have to agree to both be main Mrs. Greens, with no one the 'other', okay?" 

Her daughter-in-law nodded.  "Okay, we can do that." 

"Good," Gail acknowledged.  "But I still say, you are the only Mrs. Green as far as the children of this town are concerned." 

"I can verify that," April announced, "Because last week you earned me some much-needed credibility points with one of my patients," she informed Heather.  "Thirteen-year-old girl.  She asked me if I was related to Mrs. Green, her favorite teacher ever.  So, when I told her you were my sister-in-law and best friend ever, she decided that maybe I wasn't being mean and maybe she could talk to me.  And she's not my first pediatric – or adult – patient to sing your praises.  Not by a long shot."

"If she's thirteen, she was probably my student when I was still Miss Lisinski," Heather argued.

"And you've stayed interested in her and encouraged her ever since you magically became Mrs. Green," April countered. 

"So much magic involved in that transformation," Heather joked.  "Like a butterfly emerging from her cocoon."

"See?  Exactly what I'm saying.  Because you're like the opposite of the little old lady in the shoe: you're not old, and you know exactly what to do with all of your hundred plus kids."

"Also, don't live in a shoe," Heather reminded.

"Just take the compliment, darlin'," Johnston advised, a grin twitching at his lips.

"Thank you," April declared, exasperated.  She looked down at her watch, groaning softly.  "I need to get.  I have an appointment at two-fifteen that I can't miss."

"You never schedule appointments on Field Day," Heather frowned. 

"I usually don't," her sister-in-law agreed.  "If I don't schedule patient appointments on Field Day, then there are never major injuries at Field Day and I get a light afternoon.  It's worked so far."

"Thankfully!" Heather agreed, sighing.  "And everyone, knock on wood as soon as you see some," she instructed, earning nods and smiles from the other three Greens.  "So, is it a personal appointment?  Something for—"

"Nope," her sister-in-law denied immediately.  "Just one time-sensitive appointment for a busy person.  I booked it as a favor."  The slightly desperate look the April threw to her mother-in-law went unnoticed by Heather – but not by Johnston.

"We will help you get all of this to your car then," Gail offered, pointing at the pile of equipment, including two folding tables and a canopy, that April and Johnston had amassed when they had broken down the first-aid station.

"Best in-laws ever," April grinned, "Thank you."  All four of them immediately reached for various pieces of equipment, and April tapped Heather on the arm.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping take things to your car," the younger woman answered.  "Same as everyone else."

"My offer didn't include you, honey," Gail scolded.  "In fact, you were very much excluded."

"Why?" Heather wanted to know.

"It's your birthday," April proclaimed as if that settled things – and as if she thought the younger woman had forgotten.

"So?  I can still help," Heather countered stubbornly.

"Jake's calling you at two, right?" April reminded.  "That's in less than twenty minutes—"

"Taking this stuff to the parking lot isn't gonna take twenty minutes," Heather argued, even as she let her father-in-law relieve her of the travel-case he had stowed the portable canopy in less than ten minutes before.

"It shouldn't," April agreed, "But you also need to go to your classroom, and the office—"

"I think I can skip checking my box in the office for one day," Heather countered obstinately.  "School's out in two days and it's not gonna matter if I pick up my mail in the morning instead of this afternoon.  It's my birthday after all."

"Well, really, sweetheart, I would encourage you to rethink that," Gail counseled.

While her mother-in-law had opted for subtlety, April decided to be blunt.  "Heather, it's your birthday.  You really think there isn't something waiting for you in the office?  From your husband?  Who always—"

"Gets me flowers," Heather realized.  She glanced at Gail.  "Is this the other thing you helped him with?" she asked, before turning her gaze toward April.  "Or you, since you're in on Jake's plan too?"

"You really think Jake needs anyone's assistance getting you flowers?" April returned.  "I figure he gets a volume discount or has a revolving line of credit at the florist's," she joked.  "Both, probably."

"You're just jealous," Heather accused, a small grin blooming on her lips. 

"Of course, I am," April chuckled, rolling her eyes.  "Of all the genes they could've both gotten a copy of, why couldn't it have been the flower giving gene?"

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," Gail laughed.  "Though, that does seem like a Green family characteristic—"

"Really?" Johnston interrupted, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.  "Seems very O'Brien t' me."

"Maybe it's a recessive gene that would only express itself if they got it from both of you," Heather suggested. 

"Sweetie, I think we're bein' held equally responsible for this flaw in Eric's character," Johnston informed his wife.  "Which seems fair."

"Better than blaming one of us," Gail reasoned, "And letting the other completely off the hook."

"I'm not blaming anyone," April assured.  "I'm just lamenting one very minor-in-the-scheme-of-things disappointment, that's all.  But you know," she continued, "Jake sent me flowers for my birthday this year – probably out of pity, since he knows his brother – so no way he forgot you, on yours, Heather.  He's probably had your flowers ordered since your last birthday.  Mine was a lovely mixed bouquet, so for you… I'm guessing two, maybe three, dozen red roses."

"No way, Jake sent me three dozen roses," Heather denied.  "That's a little ostentatious, even for him.  Besides, he knows that there's no way I could successfully get that big a vase, that many roses, home without destroying them."

"And how does he know that?" April asked, clearly amused.

Heather rolled her eyes.  "Mostly because he was an ear witness to my losing my keys getting into my car the other morning.  Apparently, I like to regularly remind him that he married a dork."

"You're not a dork, honey," Gail contradicted immediately.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I am!" Heather giggled, shaking her head.

"You kinda are," April agreed cheerfully.  "But that's okay, because I'm pretty sure Jake just said that made him love you even more," she guessed, reminding, "I hang out with you guys a lot.  I know how these things tend to go."

"Well, yeah, pretty much," Heather conceded, her expression turning sheepish.  "Okay," she announced a beat later, "I will completely bail on you all and stick you with getting all this to the car."  She gestured at the not insubstantial pile of equipment with both hands.  "So that I can selfishly go back to my classroom, plus go to the office to see what flowers—"

"Roses.  Red.  Three dozen," April predicted.  "I'm placing my bet."

"It's probably red roses, but it's not gonna be three dozen," Heather repeated, exhaling with a huff.  "So, I'll make sure to go to the office, and also be available when Jake calls at two."

"That's all we're asking, sweetheart," Gail smiled, stepping toward her daughter-in-law and pulling her into a hug.  "Now, Happy Birthday!  And we will see you in a few hours at the restaurant.  As close to five thirty as we can all manage."

"Okay," Heather acknowledged, smiling in return.  "Thank you."

"What she said," April grinned, cocking her head toward her mother-in-law as they switched places.  She hugged Heather as well.  "Happy Birthday!  We'll see you tonight.  And, if I'm right about your roses, you hafta go riding with me on Friday, too.  In the morning, 'cause I'm always booked up with appointments on Friday afternoon."

"And if I'm right?"

"Then you hafta go riding with me on Friday morning," April informed her.  "It'll make Jake happy."

"I see what you did there," Heather grumbled.  "And if I can still walk Friday morning, I'll go riding with you, 'kay?"

"That works."

Johnston cleared his throat then, drawing the three women's attention.  He held his arms open.  "Well, since I'm not invited to dinner tonight – and I'm not askin' t' be, either," he assured, "I'm gonna hafta give you your final Happy Birthday hug right now, darlin'."

"Absolutely!" Heather agreed, stepping into his embrace.  Johnston pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then she surprised him – surprised herself, too – by standing on tiptoe and leaning close to his ear to whisper, "Jake and I are fine.  We're great.  You don't hafta worry about us."

She pulled away and their gazes locked.  "I'm – I'm glad to hear it, Heather," he told her.    "Very glad, darlin'.  Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," she sighed, offering him a shy grin.  "And thank you again for umpiring.  Really saved my bacon," she teased. 

"Happy to do it.  Had fun.  Almost wish I could've taken a second turn," he claimed.  "Though, I s'pose your team's win might be a little suspicious if your father-in-law had called the game.  Congratulations on that, by the way."

"I've taught all those kids," she reminded, "So yeah, I'm pretty proud."  Heather turned around, facing her mother- and sister-in-law.  "Okay, I'm going now.  Abandoning you to all this work."

"We can handle it," April insisted, "Say 'hi' to Jake for us."

Gail pointed Heather toward the school building, jokingly ordering, "Get a move on young lady."

"I'm going, I'm going," she repeated.  "Love you guys."

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 2:11 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

Heather’s head was swimming.  She'd just thumbed decline on her phone for the third time, hanging up on her husband for the third time, when – really – all she wanted to do was talk to him.  Talk to him, and tell him about all that had happened in the half hour since she'd taken leave of his parents and April.  Since the day they had met, Jake had been her sounding board, always willing to listen without judgment.  She needed that right now.  And, as she'd told him the week before, she just needed to hear his voice. 

 

She'd made it into the school building itself – though not her classroom – before her cell phone had rung with the ringtone that indicated the call was from someone in her family in Buffalo.  Pulling the phone out of her tote bag, she'd recognized the number as that of her brother, Michael.  He had been, it turned out, on a ten-minute break during his sixteen-hour EMT shift.  So, he'd sung the Birthday Song – badly – and then she'd taken him to task for accusing her husband of sending him inappropriate email.  But Michael had quickly turned the tables on her, putting her on the defense, when he'd asked when she was planning on having a kid, and hopefully satisfying the frustrated maternal instinct she tended to misdirect at him.

"That's not a conversation I'm gonna have with you on my birthday, Mikey," she'd muttered, opening her classroom's door with her key.  "Or ever, really," she'd added, dropping her tote bag on the nearest student desk.  "With you or anyone else who isn't my husband."

"Fine by me, sis," he'd returned easily.  "Just as long as you guys talk about it.  I mean," Michael had continued, "You guys have been married for four years.  You got your masters two years ago.  People are starting to worry."

She'd groaned at that, throwing herself into her desk chair.  "Well, people don't need to worry about that – about us.  He didn't abandon me, okay?  Jake and I are fine.  We're great," Heather had insisted, repeating the words she'd said to her father-in-law not ten minutes earlier.  "And we're gonna have kids when we have kids.  And that's not people's business, it's not your business – it's our business.  Got it, Mikey?"

"Got it," he'd muttered.  "And I'm happy to stay out of your business, it's just …." He'd trailed off, exhaling nervously.  "I know you want a kid.  You probably want a bunch of kids.  Like Jake can have his own baseball team—"

"I don't – we don't – want a baseball team's worth of kids," she'd contradicted, exasperated.  "That's nine kids, Mikey.  Nobody wants that."

"Tell me you guys have talked about it," Michael had requested then.  "Or at least that you're gonna.  Or – better – that you're already secretly tryin' to get pregnant.  I mean, that would make sense, since Jake's telling me he's gonna send me a plane ticket so I can come meet your kid and all."

"Well, I'm not secretly trying to get pregnant while my husband is on another continent," she'd moaned.  "For obvious reasons." 

"Right," her brother had grunted.

"But hey," she'd continued, her tone brightening, "We're going to Hawaii for our anniversary, and you'll be happy to know that this very subject is on the agenda—"

"Heth!"

"—for discussion."  She'd made an annoyed noise.  "It's on the agenda for discussion, Mikey.  Discussion.  We're – we've talked about it some already, okay?  And we're gonna talk about it some more.  In Hawaii.  Happy?" 

"Thrilled," he'd returned. 

"Why are we even talking about this?" Heather had demanded, annoyed.

"Because you're my sister and I love you," Michael had sighed.  "And, you know, I think you'll be a pretty great mom.  And Jake probably won't suck as—"

"Jake isn't gonna suck!" she'd protested.  "He's gonna be a great dad."

"Cool," Michael had acknowledged.  "You would know.  And I still say, you have your own kid – kids – to worry about, like a reasonable number of kids—"

"Two or three kids."

"Seems totally reasonable," he'd agreed.  "But have your own two or three kids, and maybe you can ease up on me a little?"

"I'll try," she'd promised.  "But," Heather had giggled, "You know I was supposed to stop calling you 'Mikey' like five, six years ago, and we both know how well that went." 

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda used to you calling me 'Mikey'," he'd admitted.  "And I'm not – I'm not sayin' butt out of my life completely.  It's just I am a grown up, got into medical school and everything.  So, you don't need to tell me when to go to bed, okay?"

"Okay, that sounds fair, Mike."

"So, that's the first and last time I'm gonna hear you say that for the next three, four years," he'd joked.

"Probably," she'd agreed.  There had been a perfunctory knock at the door, followed by Principal McVeigh stepping into the classroom a few seconds later.  "Mikey – I mean Mike – my boss is here, so I need to go." 

Mrs. McVeigh had frowned at that, shaking her head 'no', but on the other end of the phone call Michael had allowed a sigh, telling his sister, "That's okay.  My break's been over for about two minutes anyway.  Gotta go save some lives."

"Go save some lives, Mikey," she'd ordered, chuckling.  "I love you."

"Love you, too," he'd replied, "Happy Birthday, Heth."

"I didn't mean you needed to end your call," Mrs. McVeigh had protested when Heather had flipped her cell phone shut. 

"It's okay," Heather had dismissed, "That was my brother Mikey – well, Mike – and his break was over anyway.  He's an EMT."

"The one who was in your wedding, and the one who's going to medical school," the principal had realized. "That gives some context to 'go save some lives' at least," she'd chuckled.  "Calling to wish you 'Happy Birthday', I'm sure."  Heather had nodded her confirmation, prompting Mrs. McVeigh to continue.  "And since it's your birthday, I really don't want to keep you.  I'm sure – well, I know – you have plans for this evening.  Gail was helping me with the ribbon sorting and she mentioned that they're taking you out to dinner—"

"That's not for four hours," Heather had insisted, deciding against telling the other woman that Jake would be calling her in less than ten minutes. 

"Well, as I said, I don't want to keep you, but we have a bit of a time sensitive personnel matter." 

"A personnel matter…" Heather had repeated, an uneasy note sounding in her voice.

 "Yes," the older woman had confirmed.  "Heather, personnel matters are a part of a vice principal's job.  They're a part of a principal's job too.  And they're not my favorite part – or anyone's, I'm sure.  But they are a part of the job, and they do come up."

"Really was my least favorite topic in my least favorite class," Heather had sighed.  "Which I am sure instills you with great confidence in—"

"It's everyone's least favorite topic and class," Mrs. McVeigh has interrupted.  "At least anyone who truly belongs in this job.  Which you do.  And I have great confidence in you.  As does the subject of our personnel matter, actually."

"Okay," Heather had nodded, "And thank you.  So, what do I need to know, and what do I need to do?"

"What you need to know is that Edna Walker is planning to announce her retirement tomorrow, and what you need to do is convince her not to," Mrs. McVeigh had declared.  "I've already tried, and she says that she'll stay another year, but only if you agree."

"Mrs. McVeigh…."

"Sandy, Heather," she'd reminded.  "That's the first thing I need you to do.  Be a little less deferential to your colleagues.  You should always respect them, of course.  But you need to accept that you're the one who's in charge.  They need to respect you – and your authority – too."

She'd gone on to tell Heather that she was an outstanding educator who was always innovating.  That her students, their parents, and the other teachers and staff members all liked and valued her.  Heather was, the principal had emphasized, a good mentor to the newer teachers – or really, any teacher who asked for her advice or assistance.  But Mrs. McVeigh had cautioned, she needed to get comfortable with her new role as a supervisor – sometimes she was just going to have to tell others what she needed them to do, even if they didn't ask, and even if they resisted her direction.  This, it turned out, was why Mrs. McVeigh had decided that Heather would oversee assessing her colleagues' compliance with curriculum standards in the next school year.  She wanted Heather to have the experience of delivering a tough message or two while she was still there to back her up.

There had been more.  "I tried to catch you yesterday afternoon," Mrs. McVeigh had said, "But you had already left—"

"I'm sorry," Heather had apologized, reddening with embarrassment.  "I almost never leave that early, but it's the last week of school, and I was meeting Gail to help her with something," she'd explained.

"I'm not reprimanding you for leaving before four in the afternoon," Mrs. McVeigh had assured then.  "Ever.  If you need to leave before four the first week of school, or the twentieth, or really whenever, I trust you to not abuse the privilege.  We all have lives, and things we need to do.  You work hard, and I know that.  I'm honestly just trying to make myself feel a little better about dropping all this on you on your birthday, I promise."

"That's okay," Heather had replied.  "I mean, this is part of my job now, right?"  Her cell phone, forgotten in her hand, had trilled, playing a tinny version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame.  "Sorry," she'd frowned, flipping the device open so she could decline the call.

"That was Jake, I assume," Mrs. McVeigh had said, protesting, "You didn't need to do that, Heather."

"It's okay," the younger woman had countered.  "We already talked this morning.  We had a breakfast date, actually.  On Skype.  And, he'll call me back.  He knew I might not be able to answer right away.  He'll call back," she'd repeated, trying to unobtrusively mute her phone, though the principal hadn't been fooled.

"Well, that I believe.  Jake is nothing but persistent when it comes to you," she'd smiled. 

Heather had blushed softly at that, but otherwise hadn't acknowledged her boss's statement.  "So, I assume that you wanted to tell me about Mrs. – I mean, Edna – yesterday."

"I did.  That, and the fact that the Fielding Consolidated school board was holding a vote to close their middle school last night.  Declining enrollment.  It passed three to two," Mrs. McVeigh had reported.  "They're sending their seventh and eighth graders to their high school, keeping their sixth graders in their elementary schools."  They both knew that there were four elementary schools in the Fielding CSD, three within the town limits and one more rural school, sited halfway between Fielding and the unincorporated hamlet of Rosedale.  "The other option was to close one of those, so this was probably the more palatable choice."

"That's – wow."

"Wow indeed," Mrs. McVeigh had echoed. 

But it was, she'd explained, also an opportunity for the Jericho Independent School District to shore up their own enrollment numbers.  Fielding Middle School absorbed students from a number of smaller towns which still had independent primary schools.  Those students often lived closer to Jericho than to Fielding, and while they had always been eligible to enroll at Jericho Elementary – and then Jericho High – this hadn't always been an attractive option to some, or even most, families.  Some parents, though, would likely balk at sending their seventh and eighth graders to high school, or at least this was Superintendent Moore's assumption.  He was taking that argument to the JISD school board meeting that evening, along with the proposal to begin offering school bus routes between Cedar Run, Sandy Mush, and four other nearby towns and Jericho Elementary.  And of course, families that opted for Jericho Elementary for their children's middle school years, would probably choose Jericho High to complete their secondary education. 

"That would be good for us, right?" Heather had suggested.  "I mean our enrollment also hasn't exactly been growing.  I actually thought you were getting ready to tell me about layoffs when you called me in last week," she'd admitted, chuckling nervously.  "I was worried enough that I called Jake—" 

Heather's cell phone, now sitting on the corner of her desk, vibrated.  She silenced it quickly, prompting her boss to guess, "Speaking of?"

"Probably," the younger woman had admitted.  "But it could also be one of my brothers, someone from my family, anyway."

"Well, I'm sorry we have to do this today, but let's try to get it done, and you on your way, okay?"  Heather had nodded in agreement.  "And just so you know, I would hate it if I had to lay anyone off," Mrs. McVeigh had sighed, exhaling deeply.  "It really is the worst part of the job.  But I promise you, I would do a heckuva lot to avoid laying you off.  Heather, you are the best candidate to replace me when I retire," she'd declared.  "And that's not so far away.  If it came down to it, I would ask some of the retirement eligible teachers to consider doing so, rather than letting you go."

"That's what Jake said you'd do.  When he was trying to convince me not to worry."

"He's no dummy," the principal had smiled.  "I knew that Edna was contemplating retirement, and then she told me yesterday morning that this was the year.  I would love to wish her well and then take her out to dinner to celebrate.  Even though the whole reason she's waited so long to announce is to avoid anything resembling a retirement party," she'd chuckled ruefully.  "But if things go as planned, we may need to hire two or three additional teachers, I wouldn't want that to be four."

"I can understand that," Heather had acknowledged a beat later.

"We'd have to spend the entire summer interviewing, and we'd be lucky to find four good candidates before school started.  I interviewed – well, Edna, Donna and I interviewed – seventeen or eighteen candidates, including you obviously, for your position," Mrs. McVeigh had reminded.  "We interviewed ten or twelve candidates when we hired Amber.  And for Gina, it was, what?  At least fifteen."

Heather, who had participated in both those interview panels, had nodded her agreement.  "That sounds right."

"Maybe we get away with thirty or thirty-five interviews for three positions.  We might even be able to peel a teacher or two off of Fielding Middle, but I have my doubts," Mrs. McVeigh had confessed.  "Any teacher willing to teach in the middle grades isn't gonna be afraid of going up to high school."

"And if they're willing to go down to elementary school, there are four in Fielding CSD, so they're probably not going to come here," Heather had reasoned.

"That's my thinking," the principal had confirmed.  "And who knows how things will turn out?  I just think next year might get even more bumpy without Edna.  Amber's still finding her way, and I think we need a strong teacher in sixth grade that Amber can turn to if she needs to.  I know she comes to you sometimes, but that could change once your vice principal.  It likely needs to change, given everything that will be on your plate."

"That makes sense.  And suddenly, this is just so daunting.  Of course, it was always a little daunting."

"One of the things I'm counting on is that you're hard to scare.  And, I know that you and Edna clashed when you first got here—"

"We did," Heather had said, frowning.  "But I know she's a good teacher.  And I've learned a lot from her over the last few years," she'd conceded.  "She knows her stuff and nothing ever phases her."

"Very true," Mrs. McVeigh had confirmed, "And, between you, me and the lamppost, I found her a little intimidating when I first got here.  I'm not saying that's how you—"

"Oh, I was totally intimidated," Heather had interjected.  "And then I vehemently disagreed with how she was handling Bonnie, and we just got off on the wrong foot."  She'd worried her lip for a few seconds before asking, "She really wants me to agree that she should stay?  I mean, I'm happy to tell her that.  And I'd mean it.  Everything you said makes sense, and she's a good teacher.  But I – I'm just surprised that my opinion matters to her."

"She wants to retire," the older woman had sighed, "But this school – this community – is important to her, too.  She's given it forty years of her life.  And, yes, your opinion most definitely matters."

"Okay," Heather had nodded.  "So where are we going?  Her classroom?"

"She's waiting for us in the office," Mrs. McVeigh had explained.  "So, grab your things.  We'll get this matter settled, and then you can talk to Jake and go to your birthday dinner."

"Thanks," the younger woman had breathed.  "I – I feel like I should be attending the school board meeting—"

"No," the principal had denied immediately.  "I can represent for both of us, at least for tonight.  What you should do is go celebrate your birthday.  So, let's get to the office, we can get things squared away with Edna, plus you can pick up your delivery and be on your way."

"Roses?"

"Yes," Mrs. McVeigh had smiled.  "And that's all you'll get from me.  You deserve to walk in and experience the full effect.  But I will say that Harriet has been enjoying them all day."

Heather had gathered her things, which today consisted only of her purse and her tote bag, plus a coffee travel mug that she'd locked closed before dropping into the tote bag.  The two women were out in the hallway – Heather had just locked her classroom's door – when her phone had vibrated again, indicating another call.  Her head swimming, she unclipped it from her purse's strap and thumbed the decline button for the third time, sending a silent 'I'm sorry, Jake' heavenward. 

"I'm sorry that this all had to happen today," Mrs. McVeigh apologized as they started down the hallway toward the main office.  "And sorry you had to hang up on Jake again."

"It's okay.  We were hoping to talk at two, but we both knew that might not be possible," Heather returned.  "Though, Jake's looking forward to me having free time this summer so we can talk more often, and that's maybe not gonna work out if we're going to be doing interviews."

"The job reqs have to be posted for thirty days' minimum," the principal reminded.  "We may have applications before then, but we probably won't be doing interviews until the last week of June at the earliest."

Frowning, Heather had pulled the older woman to a stop.  "I'm – I'm gonna be out of town July sixth through the twenty-third.  We're going to Hawaii for our anniversary."

"Well, we'll find a way to make that work," Mrs. McVeigh promised. 

"Plus, I was thinking of going to Buffalo after that.  Mikey – Mike – leaves for medical school the first weekend in August, so I was gonna go spend some time with him and my dad, maybe help move him to New Haven," Heather told her boss.  "Plus, Jake thinks I'll be able to teach our goddaughter to call him 'Uncle Cowboy Jake' while I'm there," she laughed halfheartedly.  "She's only six months old, so that's basically impossible, but I didn't have the heart to explain that to him."

"Do you have any pictures of Jake in a cowboy hat, or with a horse?" the principal asked.

"Not in a cowboy hat.  He thinks he looks like a dork in a cowboy hat.  I've only seen him wear one once – to make our nieces and nephew happy – and I was not allowed to take pictures while he was wearing it," Heather giggled.  "But plenty of pictures with him and horses, though he doesn't like me taking those either."

"So, he really is 'Uncle Cowboy Jake'," Mrs. McVeigh smiled. 

"Yeah, he's a really good uncle," the younger woman agreed, also smiling.

"And does he look like a dork?" Mrs. McVeigh inquired. "In a cowboy hat?"

"No, of course not.  But I'm also probably not the most reliable arbiter of that," Heather reminded, giggling.  "I always think he looks pretty great," she said as the resumed their walk to the office. 

"And I'm sure he'd say the same thing about you," the Mrs. McVeigh teased.  "You two are reliably adorable.  My advice: take a couple of pictures of Jake with you – at least one of which is with a horse – and show them to her, like flashcards, and just say expressively, 'this is your Uncle Cowboy Jake'," she suggested.  "It'll never work, but you'll have fun."

"I actually would enjoy that.  That and getting to babysit, which I bet my brother and sister-in-law would be happy to take advantage of."

"No doubt," the older woman confirmed.  "Would you be able to be back in town by the Tuesday after you deliver Mike to med school?"

Heather nodded vigorously.  "I will make that happen," she promised.  "Thank you!"

"…. takes me back twenty years.  They were always the most detailed on the math tests and quizzes," Mrs. Walker chuckled, just as Heather and Mrs. McVeigh entered the office.

"That's exactly how I felt when Harriet had me take a look at that drawing, Edna," Mrs. McVeigh laughed.  "Though, I usually saw them on history tests."  She glanced at Heather.  "Back then, we had our sixth, seventh, and eighth grades changing classes in blocks during the afternoon.  So, I had three years of discussion with Jake about why Mrs. Simpson was not his preferred instructor for history."

"So, I should be grateful that Mrs. Simpson retired before I got here," Heather guessed.

"Probably," Mrs. Walker answered, offering Heather a tentative smile.  "She thought he was a good student.  So, did I.  A challenge to have in class three years in a row for math.  I tried to send him over to the high school for algebra in the eighth grade, just to get him in a class that was a match for his abilities, but it was a no-go," she explained, shaking her head.  "But I became very familiar with those airplanes."

"That's not important now," Mrs. Crenshaw, the school secretary, insisted, her voice brimming with excitement.  She was standing behind the counter that bisected the school's main office.  "Not when you're here for your delivery, Heather," she announced, gesturing at the large and tasteful arrangement of roses that sat, prominently displayed in the center of the counter.  Mrs. Walker, on the opposite side of the counter with Heather and Mrs. McVeigh, took a step back to allow the younger woman a better view of her flowers.

"Wow," Heather exhaled softly.  "I kinda expected this – flowers – but I didn't expect… that."

"Three dozen roses," Mrs. Crenshaw supplied.  "Eighteen red, nine yellow, nine white.  Heather, Jake's sent you some beautiful bouquets over the years, but this… this is the loveliest."

"Yeah, it really is," Heather murmured.  Now on top of a swimming head, she had a pounding heart. 

Jake tended to stick to sending her red roses – "we both know what those mean," he always teased her – so she had to wonder at this.  Was he trying to send a message?  Or was he simply mixing things up – sending a larger than normal bouquet because he was feeling guilty about missing her birthday? 

He could be sending a message, she knew.  When she'd graduated from her master's program, he'd given her two dozen red roses (and a weekend in San Diego), telling her that when he'd googled 'rose color for graduation' the answer had come back two ways: red for congratulations and respect, or a recommendation to go with school colors.  The University of Kansas colors were crimson and blue, and Jake had said that he was pretty sure she considered blue roses to be unnatural and would not have been impressed.  Red roses, he'd complained in jest, meant pretty much everything.  "So, congratulations, babe," he'd said, finally handing her the bouquet.  "You're amazing.  That's what the first dozen's for.  Second dozen's because I love you.  Completely."

She didn't think he'd send her different colored roses without checking the meaning, but what meaning was he trying to communicate by this?  Yellow roses meant joy, delight, and friendship, she recalled from her quiz bowl days.  That made them a good flower to give to someone on their birthday, and it was her birthday.  Maybe that was why he'd sent them?  But the hopeful part of her brain – of her heart – whispered: the promise of new beginnings.  Could – could he possibly be saying … that?

"I know all the rose colors are supposed to mean different things," Mrs. Crenshaw exclaimed, startling Heather out of her inner discourse.  "But I only know what red means.  Still, they sure are beautiful."

"Yellow means friendship," Heather said, her voice sounding stronger and much more at ease than she was actually feeling in that moment.  Which was true – she and Jake were great friends, but also so much more.  But friendship, that she was willing to share with this particular audience.  "Also, joy," she added.  "And 'Happy Birthday', basically.  Or sort of.  It's a good color for a birthday, I mean.  Plus, red and yellow together mean happiness and excitement," she recalled.

And that was good enough, she decided.  That was great.  If she let herself think it was anything more than that, then she was projecting her own desires onto Jake, which wasn't fair, she reminded herself.  If Jake had picked these colors because he wanted to wish her a 'Happy Birthday' and to tell her he loved her, that was fine by her.  If he'd chosen this combination of colors to express his happiness in their marriage, even better.  She would take it.  That's all it had to be.  He loved her, as much as she loved him.

"So, what do red and yellow and white all together mean?" Mrs. Crenshaw inquired.

"Oh, uh, nothing.  Nothing that I've ever read anyway," Heather admitted.  "Red and white together mean unity.  That's why they show up so much for engagements and weddings.  For everything else, it's just a combination of the meanings of the individual colors."

"Well, togetherness – unity – happiness, and excitement is not the worst coded message to get from your husband," Mrs. Walker declared. 

"Don't forget love," Mrs. Crenshaw interjected. 

"Togetherness, happiness, excitement, and love.  That totally works for me," Heather decided, smiling. 

"That would work for any of us, I'm sure," Mrs. McVeigh offered.  "And I promised Heather that we'd make this quick because it's her birthday," she continued, "And she's already hung up on Jake three times—" hastily amending her statement to, "Well, now four," as they all watched Heather flip open her phone and decline a call.  "So, shall we adjourn to my office?"

"In order to keep this short, I'm willing to have the discussion here," Mrs. Walker announced.  "That also saves Harriet the trouble of having to get a report out of one of us later," she reasoned, throwing the secretary a knowing smile.  "Is that all right with you, Heather?"

"Of course, Mrs. – Edna," the younger woman returned, clearly startled.

"I'm fairly certain that is the first time you've addressed me by my given name," Mrs. Walker observed, catching – and holding – Heather's gaze.  "It's about time.  You are going to be our fearless vice principal."

"Definitely the first time," Heather confirmed.  "And I don't know about fearless, but I will try to do my best."  This time she caught herself before she could begin to say 'Mrs.', and so it was a beat before she said, "Edna, I know we got off on the wrong foot five years—"

"And that was my fault," Mrs. Walker interrupted.  "We wanted some new blood – new ideas – around here, but we weren't completely prepared for what that meant.  You didn't know how things had always been done," she teased – Edna Walker was teasing her! Heather could hardly believe it – "And we didn't always welcome your perspective.  Or I didn't."

"And for my part, I was in a bit of a rough patch," Mrs. Walker continued.  "There are just times in your life when nothing seems to go right.  I won't patronize you by saying you wouldn't understand.  I suspect you might.  But I was in such a patch," she repeated.  "That year was the first time I was ready to announce my retirement, and Sandy wouldn't let me do it then, either," she said, glaring benignly at the principal.  "I have to admit, I didn't do right by Bonnie Richmond, and that has always been to my great shame."

"I should have been a little less…."  Heather paused a moment, pursing her lips as she considered her word choice.  She really didn't want to say 'disgusted'.

"Passionate?" Mrs. Crenshaw supplied helpfully just as Heather settled on – and announced – "Incensed."

"Certainly passionate," Mrs. Walker confirmed, nodding at the secretary.  "And you had every right to be incensed," she added, meeting Heather's gaze.  "And then some.  But in the end, it worked out for the best, I think.  You have no idea how glad I was that you offered to have Bonnie come help in your class," she confessed, "And not just because it relieved some of my guilt.  I will always feel bad about how things went.  But she bloomed under your direction and care, and gained so much confidence as your 'teaching assistant'," she sighed, offering Heather a small smile.  "I'm still embarrassed about how I handled things, and I will always be grateful that you found such a perfect solution."

"Well, thank you for that," Heather returned, allowing an uneasy chuckle.  "I wasn't being completely selfless though. I mean, I thought it might be good for Bonnie, but it was good for me and for my class, too.  Classes," she reminded.  "I was a little sad for myself when she graduated to the High School and I had to handle spelling lessons all by myself."

"And, it just occurred to me that that means next year's class will be my last class that will arrive in the sixth grade all knowing how to finger spell," Mrs. Walker said, shaking her head.  "Which honestly, is both good and bad.  You've armed a certain cohort of children with a very useful skill.  Also, with the ability to secretly communicate whenever their teacher's back is turned."  She wagged a finger and Heather, mock-scolding, "Mrs. Green—"

"Heather, please!" the younger woman reminded.  "And I'm sorry for that?"

"Are you sure about that?" Mrs. Walker laughed.

"I am.  I obviously didn't fully think through how my having Bonnie teach the third grade to finger spell as part of them learning how to spell in general might impact their future teachers," Heather admitted.  "I should have considered that." 

"Honestly, it's more good than bad," Mrs. McVeigh insisted.  "Since they have to learn to spell in order to use their secret communication skill."

"Agreed," Mrs. Walker returned, shrugging.

Heather took a deep breath and, facing the older teacher, asked, "Edna, would you be willing to postpone your retirement for now?  I think we really need you on our staff next year.  You're a great teacher, and we're going to need your wealth of experience and guidance.  I'm gonna need your experience and guidance."

"Yes," Mrs. Walker agreed immediately.  "I may only stay for a year, but I will stay.  And…"  She paused a moment.  "I hope you know, Heather, that I wanted your agreement, not so you would ask me to stay – though I appreciate that – but just so you would know that we won't be working at cross-purposes.  I wanted to know, and I wanted you to know, that we'll be working together for the good of the students."

"Definitely," Heather returned enthusiastically.  "That's exactly what I want, too.  So, thank you," she finished, smiling at the older woman and holding out her hand.

Mrs. Walker nodded, accepting and shaking Heather's hand.  "Well then, it looks like you can cancel that dinner, Sandy," she said, glancing at the principal.  "But the next time I decide to retire—"

"We will wish you well and not try to change your mind, I swear," Mrs. McVeigh promised.

"Third time will definitely be the charm," Heather added.  "I am a big believer in things like that."  The cell phone in her hand vibrated again, and she once again flipped it open and declined the call.  "I think—"

"Heather, don't take this the wrong way," Mrs. McVeigh ordered.  "But you're dismissed for the day, got it?"

"Got it," the younger woman replied.

"Happy Birthday!  And I'll catch you up on everything from the board meeting tonight tomorrow after school if you're available."

"I will be there.  Or here.  I'll come here," Heather assured.  "Right after the last bell."

She turned toward the counter to retrieve her bouquet just as Mrs. Crenshaw turned it so she could see the white envelope taped to the vase.  "It comes with a letter," the secretary announced.  "A love letter no doubt."

A rosy blush immediately suffused Heather's cheeks.  "I can only hope I'm so lucky," she claimed, reaching for the envelope and peeling it off the vase.  She recognized the drawing of a Cessna that was taped to the envelope, along with a cutout of her own name, written in her husband's bold script.  "Now I get why you were all talking about Jake's airplane drawings," she giggled, absently tracing her finger over the words lettered on the banner the plane was towing: Happy Birthday, Babe!

"After he went to the high school, I missed those drawings," Mrs. Walker admitted.  The three older women all watched as Heather clipped her phone to her purse strap and then unsealed the envelope.  "He was drawing me a different plane each time and labelling it.  It was quite the education."

"It really was," Mrs. McVeigh agreed, laughing.

Heather, smiling and with half an ear on the conversation, extracted the single page from the envelope.  She took a half step back and began to read.

 

Heather –

What's taking us so long?   You want a kid.  I want a kid.  Specifically I want OUR kid.  That's a decision right?  Yes we should talk about it.  But 10 years from now I bet we'll still be talking about it.  Because we like talking to each other.  And we'll have kids that we'll probably need to talk about.

We should also do something about it. 

 

 

Emitting a startled squeak, Heather quickly thrusted the letter back into its envelope and then shoved the envelope into her tote bag.  There was more to read, but she knew she couldn't read it here in the school office.  She liked and respected each of these women, but this – this was private.  Wide-eyed, she announced, "I need to go," before stepping around Mrs. McVeigh, headed for the exit.

"Heather!" the three other women exclaimed in unison, Mrs. Walker adding helpfully, "Your flowers, dear."

"Oh. Right," she muttered, turning back around and stalking to the counter.  She reached for the vase just as Mrs. Crenshaw lifted a cardboard box onto the countertop.

"They were delivered in this, and Kenny Edwards left it for you," the secretary explained, helping Heather place the vase snugly in the padded box.  "Apparently, Jake specifically requested it."

"Well, that's because he knows me," Heather murmured.

"So, it was definitely a love letter," Mrs. Crenshaw guessed, beaming at the younger woman.

"I think so – I hope so," Heather sighed.  She lifted the vase in its carrier – the box had built-in handles – and offered the other woman an excited grin.  "Thanks, Mrs. C."

"Of course," Mrs. Crenshaw replied.  "Happy Birthday, Heather."

The three older women remained silent until Heather had hurried out of the office.

"So, what do you think it said?" Mrs. Walker inquired of the other two women.

"Whatever it said, I think it made her very happy," Mrs. McVeigh suggested.

Mrs. Crenshaw nodded.  "That's for sure."

 

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

 

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 8.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

The Thoms' are Gail and Johnston's next-door neighbors in the Different Circumstances universe.  Marilyn Thom is a good friend of Gail's, and she makes a famous chocolate chip Bundt cake that is delicious enough that Jake contemplates offering to mow her lawn in repayment after he snags the last two pieces for Heather and himself in Different Circumstances Part 3B.  Peter Thom is a close enough friend that he was selected to be one of Johnston's advocates during Jericho's mayoral election as described in Different Circumstances Part 11C.  Wendy Thom (Marilyn and Peter's daughter) was Eric's date to the junior prom as discussed by the Greens at the very first Green Family Sunday Dinner that Jake brought Heather to (Different Circumstances Part 5D). 

Roma Italia (literally Rome Italy) is Jericho's one and only Italian restaurant (in the Different Circumstances universe anyway), and is one of the two best restaurants in Jericho (the other is The Jericho Grille).  Roma Italia is where Stanley took Heather on there one and only date (see Different Circumstances Part 3A) and is where Jake suggested he and Heather go on their first date after The Jericho Grille had suffered a kitchen fire.  Heather turned him down, and they went to The Pizza Garden instead (see Different Circumstances Parts 4A and 4B).

Secret Squirrel is a cartoon character created by Hanna-Barbera in the 1960's.  The phrase "Secret Squirrel Stuff" is used by people working in US intelligence agencies to jokingly refer highly classified materials, usually to give a non-answer to a question.  This is how Heather is using the phrase.  Although Jake isn't necessarily dealing with highly classified material, I maintain that he's adjacent enough to have picked up the phrase for himself, and clearly he's passed it on to Heather sometime in the five years of their relationship.

Heather's phobia of dairy products that don't require refrigeration is actually canon, though she tells Emily in episode #8, Rogue River, that she no longer has this phobia, thanks to processed cheese products.  I actually somewhat share Heather's phobia – or something like it.  Hence, the Heather of Different Circumstances is highly suspicious of mayonnaise packets as documented here and in Different Circumstances Part 8B.

The Del Coronado a.k.a. "The Del" is a nickname for the Hotel Del Coronado (https://hoteldel.com/) on Coronado Island, just across the San Diego Bay from San Diego CA.  It is a rare surviving example of an American architectural genre – the wooden Victorian beach resort.  It is both a California and National Historic Landmark.  It's a very beautiful and fancy hotel with a storied history (that I think would appeal to both Jake and Heather) and is considered to be a world-renowned resort. 

There are a number of constants in the Different Circumstances universe:  Heather is a coffee addict; Jake is a peanut butter fiend; EJ Green is the vice and virtue squad; and, Jake brings or send Heather flowers.  He brought them to her on their first date (Different Circumstances Part 4A), he sent them to her (red roses! underlined three times) the first time he had to go to Denver for work (Different Circumstances Part 6A), then brought them to her when he came home from Denver early, right before Thanksgiving (Different Circumstances Part 10A).  When Heather came home from Buffalo after they had said their "I love yous" for the first time, Jake met her at the airport with a bouquet of red roses (Different Circumstances Part 11E).  And Jake brought Heather red and white roses to congratulate her on her Jericho directorial debut of A Christmas Carol (Different Circumstances Part 12D).  That was the first time we learned that Heather knows all the rose color meanings, and that Eric does not give April flowers ever.   He is later harassed into doing so, and he managed to do it at least once, when he surprised her with her dream house (Different Circumstances Part 12F).

 

The conflict between Heather and Mrs. Walker over Bonnie Richmond was first described in Different Circumstances, Part 3A.  This is also where we learn of both Stanley's and Jake's antipathy for her (though it turns out that Mrs. Walker likes them just fine).  Really, Stanley and Jake just thought she was old when she was their teacher, and they think she's way old in the present of Different Circumstances (circa 2006 – 2007).

 

 

 

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

 

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 8

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 450 pages and 10 or 11 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

And thank you to one of my self-identified continuing readers, C.S., for giving me a phrase that Heather and Jake have now adopted as their own. 😊

Also, you may notice that this posting is going up on June 6, 2023, exactly 17 years after this conversation took place.  I must admit, when I realized I could, I decided I had to time this post to happen on Heather's birthday (the one I made up for her a very long time ago).  So Happy Birthday, Heather Green!  Trust me when I say she's happy to share this "not a birthday present" present with you all.

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 2:25 pm (Jericho KS) / Tuesday June 6, 10:25 pm (Baghdad Iraq)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

Heather had just pulled open the front passenger door of her car when her cell phone – once again clipped to her purse strap – vibrated again.  Quickly, she pulled the release bar under the car seat, sliding the seat as far back as it would go so there was room to place the vase containing her roses in its padded box on the floorboard between the glovebox and the seat.

"Jake!" she declared breathlessly, flipping the phone open.  "Don't hang up, and I love you!"

On the other end of their connection, he chuckled softly, and Heather found herself leaning against the Trailblazer's doorframe to keep herself upright. She, honestly, wanted nothing more than to melt into her phone and bathe herself in the sound of his voice.

"I love you too," her husband assured her.  "Happy Birthday, Babe.  And why are you always accusing me of wanting to hang up on you?" he wanted to know.  "When actually, you are the only person I've never wanted to hang up on?"

"Ugh.  I'm so sorry," Heather apologized.  "I hated that I had to hang up on you," she grumbled, "Five times.  Ridiculous!"

"Yeah, so what's goin' on?  Field Day such a disaster that we've had to permanently cancel it, or somethin'?  After what?  Seventy-five years?" Jake guessed.

"No," she giggled softly, "Field Day was fine and will live to see another year.  Or day, I guess.  Third/sixth won the softball tournament, so that was cool.  And my class's butterflies were a big hit.  Besides," she continued, sighing deeply, "I'm pretty sure Field Day is at least an eighty-year tradition.  Gramps had Field Day back when there was just the one consolidated six room school for all twelve grades.  They probably even had Field Day when there was just a one room schoolhouse."

"Prob'ly," he agreed.  "But no softball tournament, I bet.  Not enough kids, right?  I mean when it was a one room school."

Heather laughed.  "Seems reasonable to me.  You are my personal baseball-slash-softball expert, Hon."

"Technically, I'm your personal 'whatever the hell you want me to be', Babe," he reminded. 

"Thank you, I love you, too."

"And good that Field Day isn't cancelled.  'Cause, I'm planning to be there next year," Jake declared.  "And every Field Day for the next thirty years—"

"Wearing your 'supportive husband' hat?" Heather suggested, and he knew, just from the timbre of her voice, that she was smiling.

"Yeah," Jake confirmed.  "But if it's supposed to be an actual hat, I'd probably get one made that said: 'That Guy Principal Green Married' instead of just 'Supportive Husband'.  Or I could get one that says: 'Trophy Husband'," he proposed.  "Or – combine the two – get one that says: 'Trophy Husband: Property of Principal Green'."

"Well, I'd dare you, but you'd probably run out and get that hat made," she chuckled.  "Which would be both awesome and mortifying.  But I meant your metaphorical 'supportive husband' hat.  And I'm not the principal, Jake."

"Not yet, Babe," he countered.  "And I can get two made up.  One that says 'Vice Principal', one that says 'Principal'.  Then I'm prepared."

"Okay….  Or maybe instead, I'll make you a pair of boxer shorts that says: 'Trophy Husband'.  Well, not make – not sew," she corrected, "But take a pair you already have and make the iron-on transfer that I can – well – iron on."  Heather paused a second, looking over her shoulder to make sure she remained alone in the teachers' section of the parking lot.  Satisfied that she wasn't about to embarrass herself in front of a colleague, she lowered her voice (just in case) and completed throatily, "Across the butt.  And then you hafta wear 'em for me."

Jake allowed a low, husky chuckle that sent a delicious tingle up her spine.  "Deal, Babe," he murmured.  "That's definitely a deal.  Fact, you make 'em so they say: 'Trophy Husband: Property of Heather Green' and I'll wear 'em for you every damn day for the rest of our lives," he vowed.  "I'll not wear 'em for you, too."

"And I'll definitely take that deal, Mister," she told him before giving into a slightly uncontrolled giggle. 

"Good," Jake murmured, smiling to himself.  "And now, I've gotta request for you, Babe."

"On my birthday, huh?" she questioned rhetorically.  "Okay, go ahead."

"Just – it seems fair – if you're pickin' out my underwear—"

"You want to pick out mine, huh?" she interjected.  Heather looked quickly back toward the school building.  There was still no one around.  "Well, exactly what are we talkin' about?"

"It's those panties from our honeymoon," he told her.

"Our honeymoon was three weeks long, Jake.  And thanks to my bridal showers, I ended up with a lot of 'honeymoon panties'," she admitted, whispering the last two words.  She cleared her throat.  "You're gonna hafta be more specific."

"More specific, right," Jake agreed, nodding to himself.  He knew he was grinning like an idiot.  He was probably pushing his luck, too, but God, he loved her, and he loved it when she was willing to engage like this.  "So, they're ones that – what – what's the word for it?  Like pretty much see-through – or almost see-through – but in a classy way."

"Sheer?" Heather guessed, giggling.  "And I do try to keep my underwear classy.  Class is better than crass, I always say," she joked.

"Babe, you couldn't be crass if you tried.  You're always classy," he assured her.  "Whatever you're wearing."  'Or not wearing,' he added silently.  "And sheer is the right word.  They're definitely sheer."

"Well, you're still gonna hafta be more specific, hon.  Because I can think of four or five pairs that qualify as sheer," she decided, expelling a long breath.

"Okay, so there's a little bit of writing on one side – glittery writing."

"More specific," she insisted, "But that does narrow it down to three pairs."  Heather inhaled audibly.  "So, what does the writing say, Jake?  We need to figure this out before I blush myself to death over here."

"Hey, you're not allowed to blush yourself to death, Babe," Jake reminded, frowning to himself.  Once again, he'd gone too far.  "And I don't wanna turn this into another hmm – hmm on the hmm – hmm thing.  I'm sorry.  Let's – let's just drop it."

"Jake, we're not talking about being hmm – hmm on the hmm – hmm.  We're talking about very specific articles of clothing on the phone," Heather argued.  "I'm probably always gonna blush about some things," she admitted, sighing softly.  "Doesn't mean I'm not enjoying this particular conversation.  I love talking to you.  And now, I really need to know exactly which pair of panties I should be wearing when you finally come home."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she confirmed.  "And it's not like somebody's gonna hear us, right?"  Luckily, Jake didn't even have time to panic that she might mention his communications being monitored because she continued, saying, "I mean unless my cell's somehow been picked up by a – a baby monitor or – or—" 

Heather stopped abruptly.  She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks over her choice of words, and the truth was, she wanted nothing more than to ask him about his letter.  He'd written that they should have a kid – a baby, her heart corrected – and it was such a stunning proclamation coming from him – one that she truly had not expected – that she'd almost been able to convince herself that she'd imagined it.  But now it was once again front and center in her mind and in her heart and hanging in the too large distance between them.  All she wanted to do was to read the rest of his letter and then talk to him about it, but she had no idea how to even broach the subject. 

She took a deep breath, and then exhaled it, not sure how to voice all that she was feeling in the moment.  "I don't know," she muttered.  'I don't know what to think, what to say, how to say it.'  "Maybe – maybe a radio somewhere could pick up my call.   Maybe Jimmy Taylor's radio could pick it up.  Because – let's face it – if any radio is going to pick it up, it would be his."  Heather recognized that she was babbling now, but she just couldn't seem to stop herself.  "That would totally be my luck.  Though at least he probably wouldn't record it and take it to the school board," she decided.  "And you don't have a bunch of guys listening in on our conversation, right?"

"Babe, you know I don't," he grumbled. 

He'd thought for a moment that she was going to finally mention the note he'd sent her but that was probably wishful thinking, he realized.  If she'd seen the note, no way she could have mentioned "baby monitor" without saying something, he argued to himself.  And knowing Heather, she'd gotten caught up talking to another teacher – Amber Duncan came to mind; she had been floundering all school year, and Heather had taken her under her wing. She probably hadn't even made it to the school's office yet, he decided. 

"And not just because I only have one friend in this whole damn country," Jake exhaled in exasperation.  "But in the interest of full disclosure, Freddie did see some of the kissing pictures you sent me.  It just sorta happened, I'm sorry," he apologized, making a frustrated noise.  "I think they put me in too good a mood, and he noticed."   

"Jake, it's okay.  I'm glad they made you not grumpy for a bit," she teased.  "Besides, the fact that each of those pictures even exists means that at least one person saw us kissing," she reminded, "And for the wedding kiss pictures it was like three hundred people.  Kissing – kissing is not hmm – hmm, and it's not my…."  She paused a second to lower her voice.  "Not my panties either," she murmured.

"Right.  And I wouldn't do that to you, you know that," he repeated.  "This conversation is just between us.  I'm all alone.  And hey—"

"Hold on a sec, Jake," she interrupted.  Heather had looked up, over the hood of the Trailblazer, to see Edna Walker paused a few feet away, throwing her a quizzical look.

"Hi!" he heard her say to someone else.  "He called again, before I could actually get in the car, and I didn't want to hang up on him one more time, and I still should have just gotten in the car, huh?"

Mrs. Walker laughed at that.  "I'm glad you two were finally able to connect.  Happy Birthday, Heather.  And tell Jake 'Hello'.  I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Edna, I will," Heather returned, "I'll see you tomorrow.  Have a nice evening."

"You need to get in the car, Babe?" Jake prompted.  "You're in the parking lot?"   He frowned to himself, now wondering whether she'd skipped going to the office entirely and didn't realize he'd sent her roses – and a rather consequential note.

"Yeah," she chuckled, but he could hear the strain – nerves or stress, he identified – underneath her laugh.  "I was not going to hang up on you one more time, so I answered right where I was, right next to my car," she informed him, finally closing the passenger door.

"Babe, get in," her husband ordered gently.  "And there's no way I just heard you calling Mrs. Walker 'Edna', right?" he inquired, a few seconds later, feigning astonishment – feigning interest.  He was interested of course, but what he really wanted to know was if she'd picked up her flowers.  And what she thought of what he had written.  Still, he asked, "How'd that happen, Babe?"

"Yeah, I did," she groan-laughed.  "So, that's something I do now.  Mrs. McVeigh – Sandy – told me I needed to, and when I called Mrs. Walker 'Edna', she said it was about time," Heather explained, walking around the vehicle to the driver's door.  "Edna said that, I mean.  And Edna says 'hi'.  To you."  She sighed loudly, pulling the door open.  "The last hour has been very strange," she admitted, leaning into the car to put her purse and tote bag on the passenger's seat while also being careful of her roses.  "Just some crazy politics – well, school politics – including a personnel matter, and I'm sorry I couldn't answer the phone, but it's my job now.  Or at least it will be.  So yeah, now I call Mrs. Walker 'Edna'."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jake suggested, hoping that she wouldn't, at least not right now. 

"No," his wife grumbled.  "I mean there's a lot going on, and I do want to tell you, but not on the phone and not on my birthday," she complained, finally climbing into her car.  "I'm not gonna waste my bonus calls on talking about work.  Probably not tonight – actually, definitely not tonight – but tomorrow, I'm gonna send you one heck of an email, tell you all about what's going on.  But it's just work," she repeated, "Totally not important."

"Okay," he replied, sounding a little doubtful.  "But you did – you went to the office, right?"

"Yes," she responded, somehow drawing that one word out for three syllables.  "Thank you for my roses, Jake.  They're amazing and ridiculous – in a good way, kinda like our bathtub – and I love them.  I love you."

"You're welcome, and I love you too," he assured her.  "And Happy Birthday!  But, uh," he continued, suddenly feeling nervous.  This was, after all, the moment of truth.  "Did you get the note—"

"You mean the love letter in the envelope with the airplane drawing?  The best airplane drawing you've given me in a long time?" Heather teased gently.  "Yeah, I got that.  But I haven't read it yet—"

"Whaddya mean you didn't read it yet?" her husband demanded.  "And how do you know it's a love letter if you didn't read it?"

"Well, I read the first two paragraphs, so I know it's a love letter, but I just—"  Heather groaned.  "Look, I opened it in the office and there were a lot of people there.  Well, not really," she amended quickly, "But still.  I didn't want to read it in front of other people, Jake."

"Okay," he acknowledged.  "You wanna read it now?"

"Yes, absolutely," she declared, reaching for her tote bag.  She extracted the letter, stopping for a second to admire the drawing once more before she pulled Jake's note from its envelope.  She paused then, unwilling to unfold the page before she asked an important question – the important question.  "Do you mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it.  I don't say things to you that I don't mean," he reminded quietly.  "And I don't write 'em either."

"Good.  I'm glad that you mean it," she murmured, feeling her eyes suddenly flood with tears.  But they were definitely happy – ecstatic – tears.  "I'm really, really glad you mean it," she repeated emphatically, and he could hear the warring emotions – a perfect match to his own, suddenly turbulent feelings – in her voice.  "I wanted to talk to you and read the rest of this love letter, but you got us off onto a tangent and—"

"I got us off onto a tangent?" Jake snorted, although he recognized what she was doing, trying to inject a little levity into the conversation.  Once more he damned the distance between them.  They should have been having this conversation in person, so they could see each other, so he could hold her hand, so he could hold her. He wanted to be able to kiss his wife and to offer to get right to work on the decision they were on the cusp of making.  And while he was still hoping he'd be able to pull off one more surprise Skype session later, he also had to acknowledge to himself that he hated not being able to look her in the eye at this very moment.

"I just wanted to make sure Field Day was still a thing," he argued, forcing an equanimity into his tone that he truly didn't feel.  "You're the one who started talking about staking your claim literally on my ass, Babe," he joked.

"You added the property clause, not me," she groused in return.  "And it is my birthday, so I say we are equally responsible for the tangent."

"Fine by me."

"I'm gonna read the whole thing now, okay?"

"'Kay," he agreed.  "And then we're gonna talk about it, right?"

"Apparently we're gonna talk about it for the next ten years—"

"Rest of our lives is more like it, Babe," Jake interjected. 

There was a serious note in his tone, one that Heather was familiar with, but that still always made her sit up and take notice.  And there was another note – a more emotional note, she decided – that she'd only heard a few times before: as they had made up after their first fight and he had assured her that he loved her and wanted her in his life; when he'd asked her to marry him on top of the water tower, telling her how she had "woken him up"; when they had first seen each other after her car accident and he'd held her so carefully – so gently – pressing kisses to her hairline and crooning words of comfort; as they had exchanged their wedding vows, holding hands, both of them beaming, but also both on the verge of happy tears; and in the hours they had spent together the first night after his grandfather had died, clinging to one another while memory after memory had poured out of him.

"Of course, Jake," she acknowledged finally.  "This is kind of a lifelong decision."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice cracking softly. 

"I was glad that you wrote that we like talking to each other.  Because it's really true."

"Read your letter, Heather.  Then, we'll talk for as long as you can."

"Okay," she murmured.  "Reading now."

 

Heather –

What's taking us so long?   You want a kid.  I want a kid.  Specifically I want OUR kid.  That's a decision right?  Yes we should talk about it.  But 10 years from now I bet we'll still be talking about it.  Because we like talking to each other.  And we'll have kids that we'll probably need to talk about. 

We should also do something about it. 

We had good reasons to wait.  But those are gone or not important anymore.  What is important is that you're going to be an awesome Mom and I'm going to be an ok Dad.  Maybe a good Dad because you'll help me figure out how.  So I'm in.  For the fun stuff, the gross stuff, the boring stuff.  All of it. 

You've been patient waiting for me to say something – to be ready for this.  So I'm saying/writing it.  We should have a kid. 

Don't take another pill ok?  Throw them out.  (Or dispose of them responsibly since you're you.)

Then when we see each other we can see what happens.  Deal?

I love love love you.

Jake

PS: This isn't actually a birthday present but I thought it paired well with roses (those are a present).  And add this page to the pre-nup ok?  That's how you can know I'm serious, Babe.  Because I am.

 

"Wow Jake," Heather exhaled quietly.  She was stunned.  And thrilled.  And apprehensive.  And nervous.  Exhilarated.  Dazed.  Elated.  "I have so many thoughts, so much to say, and I don't even know where to start," she claimed.  "Well, that's not true.  I love, love, love, love you too.  I definitely want to say that."

"I only wrote you three 'loves', not four," he reminded. 

"This is one time we're definitely not keeping score, Jake," she declared.  "Because no matter how many 'loves' I say, I really mean infinity."

"Me too," he murmured.

"So, you remember that you only wrote three 'loves' or—"

"Well, it helps that I've got your letter—"

"—love letter—"

"Okay, love letter," he corrected with a chuckle, "Sittin' right here in front of me.  While you were reading," he admitted, "I was reading too.  Re-reading."

"I want it, Jake," she returned immediately.  "To go in the pre-nup.  That is a great idea."  He laughed at that. To his wife's ear, it was a pure sound – full of hope and joy and love – and she couldn't help but join in.  "I know that's silly—"

"It's not silly.  I know you, Mrs. Green," he informed her, his voice somehow simultaneously smug and full of affection.  "And I knew you'd want the original.  I even went and bought a manila envelope—"

"No, don't mail it to me, okay?" Heather requested.  "Just bring it home with you when you come.  I don't want it to get lost between Iraq and Kansas.  Just use the envelope for safekeeping until then."

"You got it."

"Thanks!  And you've got my airplane drawing too, right?" she demanded with her next breath.

"Have 'em both," he confirmed, "And they're both goin' in the envelope.  I'll bring 'em to you whenever I manage to solve the seven-thousand-mile problem, Babe.  Promise."

"I really hate the seven-thousand-mile problem," she grumbled.

"Yeah, me too.  But I am gonna solve it," he vowed.  "Somehow.  So, what's the first thing we hafta talk about now that we're gonna have a kid?  I mean, besides the seven-thousand-mile problem."

"I don't know," Heather laughed, "I honestly wasn't expecting this.  So, I'm not sure what part to talk about – what part I want to talk about.  All of it of course, all at the same time, which is ridiculous and impossible.  But wow…."  She trailed off, deciding finally, "I need a minute, I guess."

"Okay."

Despite her request for time, Heather plowed on.  "I – I told your mom yesterday that I didn't think you were ready for this," she continued.  "To have a baby.  So, I just – maybe I need to – to adjust, I guess."

"Well, I am, Heather," he assured her.  "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay," she muttered, suddenly feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her.  She'd had such a nice, warm, loving feeling from the moment she'd first opened his letter and read those initial words.  'I want OUR kid,' he'd written and then 'We should do something about it.'   It had been wonderful – like a dream, and then he'd said that he meant it – that he was ready to have a child – and her heart had soared even farther into the heavens.  But now – maybe – that wasn't strictly true.  Maybe he really wasn't ready for 'all of it'.  Maybe he was only "as ready as he'd ever be".

Heather took a deep breath, and then let it out, forcing herself not to overreact.  "So, what does that mean?" she demanded, not quite able to prevent her voice from turning squeaky.  She exhaled in frustration.  "Jake, 'ready as you'll ever be' doesn't exactly equal actually—"

"It means I'm ready," her husband declared, cutting her off.  "It means I – we – don't need to wait six or twelve months and check in about it later.  This isn't hard," he complained.  "I'm ready, Heather," and suddenly she was sure that he was clenching his teeth.  "And more time isn't gonna mean I'm more ready.  I'm. As. Ready. As. I'm. Ever. Gonna. Be."  He inhaled forcefully, trying – and failing – to calm the tension in his tone.  "Okay?"

"Okay," she sniffled a long moment later.  "I'm sorry, I just…" but whatever she'd been thinking of saying was swallowed up in a pensive sigh.

She was chewing on her lip now, Jake guessed.  Her go-to move when she was nervous or worried about something.  This was supposed to be a momentous occasion in their life together, one he was sure she'd anticipated for years, only now – against all reason – she'd clammed up, unwilling – afraid – to tell him what she was feeling.  He hated it.  "Babe, you're gonna bite through your lip," he predicted, "Or your tongue.  And then eating spaghetti for dinner will not be fun."

"I was planning to get the linguine carbonara, but yeah," she acknowledged wearily, "Not fun.  And how did you know—"

"I know you, Babe," he reminded.  "And I could hear you biting your lip," he claimed.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.  "Jake…" she began a beat later, "It's okay – I'm okay waiting."

"No, you're not," he returned immediately.  "And even if you are – which you're not – what if I'm not okay with it?  We're already gonna hafta wait some because – seven-thousand-miles – but as soon as we solve that, we should have a kid.  All the reasons to wait, they're gone now," he said, paraphrasing his note.  "I mean it, Heather.  I meant what I wrote.  We should have a kid.  Our kid.  I want us to have our kid."

"Baby, Jake," she corrected.

"Fine.  Baby."  He paused for a moment before asking, "You really wanna quibble over my choice of words?"

"You're really gonna try and distract me by using the word 'quibble'?" she retorted. 

"I was tryin' to distract you by saying 'baby'," Jake countered.  "But if 'quibble' did the trick, okay."

Heather closed her eyes and took another long breath.  "They both did the trick," she admitted grudgingly.  He was being sweet, and he sounded sincere.  "'Baby' maybe a smidge more," she sighed.  She wanted to believe him – with every fiber of her being, she wanted to believe him.  "But – but what's one reason why you want to have a – a child?  One reason that has nothing to do with me?"

"I can't – I don't have one for you, Babe," he answered truthfully.  "Because – for me – having kids has everything to do with you.  I like kids – you know that – but I never really thought about it – them – having them – before you.  It was never a dealbreaker—"

"It's not a dealbreaker for me either," Heather protested, and a sharp bark of laughter escaped her husband.

"Yeah, it is," Jake argued, "And I'm glad it is.  God, Babe!  You should have kids.  If anyone, ever, was meant to have kids, it's you, Heather," he declared.  "So yeah, I want kids because I want you to have kids.  And I don't even wanna think – I refuse to think – about you having kids with anyone else.  You only get to have kids with me.  Sorry."  He laughed again.  Softly.  Nervously.  "I never thought about having a kid – just randomly having a kid.  But your kid – our kid?  I want that."

"Jake," she sighed.

"Is that a 'Jake, I love you' Jake?" he asked a long moment later.  "Or a 'Jake, stop being so possessive' Jake?  Or a 'Jake, you're so far off base it's not even funny' Jake?  Or some other 'Jake' that I can't think of?" 

Heather was also slow to respond.  "It's like ninety-five percent 'Jake, I love you' – which I do – and five percent …."

"Possessive jerk," he filled in for her.

"No," she denied quickly.  "I mean, yes, it's a little possessive, but I agree with you, and… I like that you said it, I guess.  I only want to have kids with you too, Jake.  I just …."

"You just what?" he inquired gently.  "C'mon, Babe.  What's the five percent?"

"Baseball.  Or hunting.  Teaching your kids to ride," she listed.  "I'd feel better if – I just want to know that there's one thing you're looking forward to about having kids that isn't because I want to have kids.  Just one thing."

"That's what this was all about?" he snorted.  "That's what you need me to say?  Okay.  I'm gonna coach the Little League.  I wanna teach our kids to ride horseback.  And maybe I'll take 'em hunting, or maybe we'll just go camping so you'll come with us."  He expelled a noisy breath.  "Is that what you want to hear?  What you need to hear?  Or is that still the wrong answer?" he complained.  "That I want to spend my time with our kids – and with you?  At the same time?  That for me, that's all one thing?"

"Actually, that's a really great answer," his wife assured him.

"Good," Jake mumbled.  They were both quiet but finally he started again.  "You – you know the chessboard?  That's something I see us doing with our kids."

Heather caught herself suddenly grinning ear to ear, her heart beating a little faster.  "Tell me more about that, Hon," she demanded, clearly pleased.  She did this – "thinking ahead" she called it – and Jake would too, on occasion, if only to indulge her, to make her happy.  But this was the first time he had ever mentioned chess.  "I wanna hear all about that."

"It's just something we could do," he told her, suddenly sounding a little uncomfortable.

"We totally could do that.  So, what're we gonna do exactly?"

"I dunno.  I mean, you can't teach chess to babies, but Gramps started teaching us to play when we were seven, maybe?" he guessed.  "Could've been eight."

"Oh, you were seven and you know it," Heather teased, giggling at him.  "There really aren't enough hours in a year to fit in everything you try to convince me that you did when you were eight.  And – news flash," she announced, "I'm gonna love our kids when they're babies, and when they're two and when they're seven and when they're seventeen.  Not just when they're eight.  Their whole lives.  The rest of my life.  Just like I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life.  So, you don't hafta always be eight," she concluded, "In every story you tell me about yourself when you were a kid."

"Okay," he chuckled, "And I love you too.  For the rest of my life."

"Besides, you actually come off as more precocious if you learned to play chess when you were seven," she joked, "Because I didn't learn to play until I was ten."

"Well, for you I'll be precocious, okay?"

"Thanks.  And you know, Jake, I don't want random kids either.  I – I always thought I'd have kids, but you're the only person I've ever actually imagined having kids with."

"Sure about that, Babe?" he asked.  "Because I remember you once saying something about how ugly your hypothetical and imaginary kids with the 'M and M' boy would've been."

"I didn't say they'd be ugly," his wife grumbled, "Just not nearly as beautiful – or as smart – as our babies.  Beautiful, brilliant, genius babies," she proclaimed enthusiastically.  "But I also never thought about Mark and me having kids.  Or getting married.  And I thought about doing both with you, after about two days of knowing you."

"Two days, huh?"

"Who'm I kidding?  It was more like two hours.  But Jake…."

"Yeah, Babe?"

 "This isn't my biological clock ticking.  My wanting to have a baby now," she clarified unnecessarily.  "I'm not afraid that I'm – that we're – gonna run out of time to have kids."

"I didn't think it was, Heather," he returned.  As he'd told his mother, sometimes it was a challenge to keep up with Heather in a conversation – she did tend to shift subjects without warning – but he was usually up to the task.  "But, so, what is it?  Not that you hafta justify why you wanna have a kid to me," he continued a beat later.  "You – we – can just wanna have a kid."

"Well, can I still tell you what it is?"

"Babe, you can tell me anything you want," he reminded.  "Always."

Heather smiled at that, swiping a hand across her suddenly damp eyes.  "I know, Hon.  And it's – it's my heart," she sighed.  "And it's ticking.  I mean, obviously it's ticking – or beating—"

"Your heart better be ticking," her husband told her.  "For the next seventy years.  That's our deal."

"Hey, I'm planning to keep my part of the deal," she insisted.  "Don't worry 'bout that.  But I love you, Jake.  So much.  And I know that when we have a child – when we—"  She paused a second, giggling, "Make a baby—"

"'Make a baby', huh?" he chuckled along with his wife.  "That what we're callin' it now?"

"That's what I'm callin' it now.  Least until we actually make a baby," she teased.  "And maybe I'll still call it that until we make two of 'em.  Because that might be the only way I can get you to say 'baby' every once in a while."

"Pretty sure I've said 'baby' at least twice in this conversation.  Now it's three times," he argued. 

"Five times, actually."

"I thought we weren't keepin' score on this," Jake reminded.    

"We're not," she confirmed.  "Because you can't keep score about love.  Or you shouldn't.  Things yes, love no.  That's what I was trying to say.  It's not a biological clock thing," she repeated.  "I can have babies for ten more years at least, and you can have 'em forever, probably.  This is about love," his wife declared.  "I love you, and I love our children who don't even exist yet."  She paused, inhaling deeply.  "But I want them to, Jake, so much.  As soon as we can make—"

"A baby?"

"I was gonna say: make that happen," she laughed.  "But yeah.  Make a baby."

"Well, that's what we're gonna do, Heather," he said, laughing quietly along with her.  "Make a baby, soon as we can."

"See?  I was right," his wife announced.  "Now you're up to seven.  Suddenly you can say 'baby'.  Just needed to give you some incentive.  And a code word, apparently.  Well, phrase."

"You're not s'posed to use your teacher jedi mind tricks on me, Babe," he scolded mildly.  "We have a rule about that."

"True."

"And FYI, everyone knows what 'make a baby' means.  Not really a code word," Jake opined.  "Still I'm pretty sure if – for example – it was our turn to do dishes at Sunday night dinner, and I told Mom that we could do that, or we could just go home and make a baby…. She'd probably tell us to go make the baby."

"No way," Heather countered, giggling.  "Your mom's smarter – savvier – than that.  She'd just pat you on the cheek, tell you that you're a smart guy and that she's confident that you can find the time to do both," she predicted.  "Besides, I don't think you're factoring in my blush … factor."

"Right," her husband grumbled.  "And then Mom'd drag you off to look at my baby pictures and leave me to do the dishes all by myself, I bet."

"Poor Jakey."

He groaned at that.  "I don't want to embarrass you, Heather.  So, I'll try to avoid telling Mom when exactly we're tryin' to make a baby, okay?"

"Thanks."

"But, uh, she does know that – in general – we're gonna be trying," he continued.  "Or will be.  She, uh – I had to fax the note—"

"—love letter," Heather interjected.

"Mom called it that too," Jake laughed.  "A love letter, I mean," he clarified.  "But I had to fax it to somebody, and I figured it was better to send it to her than directly to the florists."

"Sending it to your mom was definitely the right choice as far as I'm concerned.  And thanks for telling me.  But God, Jake," she moaned softly a moment later, "I was goin' on and on about how you weren't really ready to have a baby yet, and she'd already seen this?"  She looked down at the letter in her lap, complaining, "She must think I don't know you at all."

"She doesn't think that.  You know that, Babe.  My mom loves you," he reminded.  "And she knows you know me.  On the deepest level."

"I do know you on the deepest level, Mister, and don't you forget it," his wife teased, her voice momentarily shedding its anxious undertone.  "But I didn't know you were gonna decide that you were ready to do this." 

"'Cause you thought I wasn't," he declared, "Which is okay, Heather.  I told Mom that you thought I wasn't – that you were afraid I wasn't.  She told me I should've written 'baby', and I told her I wanted you to believe me, so I stuck with 'kid'," he admitted, allowing an exasperated chuckle.

"I believe you, Jake," she assured him.  "I'm still a little surprised, but in the best way ever, and I believe you," she repeated.  "Honestly, I just can't wait to get started."

"Yeah, me too," he sighed.  "So don't forget and take a pill tonight, okay?"

"I won't," Heather confirmed, giggling softly.  "And trust me, if you were home right now, we would not be going out to dinner for my birthday."

"Still gotta eat, Babe."

"We haven't starved yet," she countered.  "I'm sure we could figure something out.  And it is Birthday Rules."

"Yup," Jake agreed.  "Whatever you want to do that doesn't get us dead, hospitalized or arrested.  Though, we have a kid, you might hafta spend a night in the hospital."

"The birth center is not the hospital, and anyway, having a baby is the exception to the rule," she decided.

"What came first, birthdays or the Birthday Rules?" he joked in return.

"Exactly."

"Also, pretty sure I am contractually obligated to agree with everything you say on your birthday." 

"You are," she confirmed, giggling quietly. 

"Good news is I agree with that rule – or I guess – that exception," her husband informed her before clearing his throat.  "But if I were home, I promise you, we would've talked this through before now.  We would've just talked about it," he insisted.  "Right after you realized you only had one pill left.  And you would've never had to get the refill.  So, tonight we could go out to dinner and then try to make a baby."

"Yeah, that would be nice.  But – hey – at least this way I got it in writing," she teased.  "And we get to add it to the pre-nup, so there's that."

"There's that," he echoed.  "But I'm – I'm sorry I let you down, Babe," Jake apologized, frowning to himself.  He hated disappointing her, and he knew he had, even if she was making jokes about it now.  "And you can hold me to it."

"What?" she responded, confusion coloring her tone.  "Jake – no, that's not what I meant," she protested a beat later.  "I don't need to hold you to anything.  I know – I know you're gonna hold yourself to it," she declared confidently.  Heather glanced down at the page in her lap.  "Yeah, I'm glad this is in writing, but not because I think I'm gonna need to wave it in your face and remind you that you've agreed to have a child.  I'm glad it's in writing because I love seeing this – these words – in your handwriting, written to me.  'We should have a kid'," she quoted.  "'I love, love, love you'.  This love letter is just so, so special to me.  That's the major silver lining in this whole—"

"Mess," her husband offered.

"I was gonna say 'situation', but 'mess' works too, I guess," she laughed.  "And you know how your mom says it's good to know that you're loved, but better to hear it?" she asked rhetorically.  "Well, turns out, it's also nice on occasion to get a love letter from your husband saying he loves you and is ready to have a child.   Or – you know – make a baby with you."

"Okay," he murmured, grinning to himself.  "Makes me kinda wish I'd put that in your love letter.  That we're gonna make a baby."

"And then sent it to your mom?" Heather giggled.  "I mean, I'm glad that you sent this love letter through her, and I don't mind that she knows that we're…."

"Ready to 'start our family'," Jake supplied, his voice taking on a husky quality.  He was quoting her back to herself, and while he hoped she recognized that, he also needed to be sure.  "Not as a consolation prize," he emphasized, "But because that's what we wanna do.  What we both want."

"Yeah," she acknowledged, sounding – somehow – both confident and shy at the same time.  "Our kid."

"Exactly.  We're gonna have our kid," he assured.  "So, that means I better get to work on makin' enough money so I can get outta here and come home."  He clenched his teeth for a moment.  It was too good an opportunity to not insert his cover story into the conversation, but still he hoped that he was being paranoid – he hoped that Ravenwood wasn't listening. "So, then we can make a baby."

"That's a good plan, Hon," Heather sighed. 

'Thank you, Babe,' her husband offered silently, before giving voice to the part he could say.  "Mrs. Green approved?" he teased gently.  "I always like to get her seal of approval."

"One hundred percent 'Mrs. Green approved'," she agreed.  "Though I can't believe that your mom knew about this yesterday – she did know about this yesterday, right?"

"I faxed it to her on Sunday morning – Sunday morning in Kansas – before she went to church."

"So, she's known about this letter for three days?" she inquired, groaning softly.  "But – but she's been so calm about everything."

"Well, more like two and a half – two and a quarter, really.  But I told her that she couldn't be excited until you got the note," Jake explained, amending in unison with his wife, "Love letter."  They both chuckled.  "I told her that she needed to act normal," he continued, "Be calm until you got the note.  I – I just wanted you to have some fun surprises for your birthday, Babe.  Since I'm not there.  And, you know, Happy Birthday."

"Thank you.  But this is a lot more than a 'fun surprise', Jake," she informed him.  "This is a great surprise.  The best surprise ever.  But it's more than that, really.  This is – this is everything."

"Yeah, it is," he acknowledged softly, a serious note ringing in his tone once more.  "It's our life."

"Exactly," his wife agreed.  "So," she started a beat later, the slightest hint of hesitation in her voice.  "When did you write this, Hon?  I'm just curious.  Like, really curious.  Because a week ago, you really seemed to think this was an 'in-person' conversation."

"There's still lots to talk about, Heather," he reminded, adding with a suggestive chuckle, "And it's still always gonna be an in-person activity." 

"Right," she giggled in return.  "Very much so.  But really," she persisted, "When did you – when did you change your mind, Jake?  When did you write me this love letter?"

"Well, first draft was Tuesday—"

"So, there were drafts," Heather interjected, sounding very pleased with this information.  "How many drafts were there?"

"All right if I tell it my way, Babe?" Jake requested, "Even if it is your birthday."

"Yes.  Sorry.  Tell me the way you want to tell me."

"First draft was Tuesday," he repeated, "Or Wednesday.  Kinda both, actually."  He paused for a second, exhaling nervously.  "But then Thursday happened, and I wrote something else, just in case.  You said you didn't want this decision – me agreeing – to be a consolation prize," he reminded.  "But that wasn't why I said we would just go and have a kid.  I knew there was no way Mrs. McVeigh was ever gonna lay you off.  I think – well, I know – I was tryin' to work my way up to sendin' this note," he admitted.

"Love letter," she corrected softly.  "And I can totally see that now."

"Fine.  Love letter," he grumbled, but they both knew it was for show.  "But since my trial balloon went over like a lead balloon, and since I was waiting for you to call me back and tell me what was going on, I wrote a second, 'not a consolation prize' draft."

Heather looked down again at the letter in her lap.  "So, this is the second draft, or…" she prompted.

"Third and final draft," Jake answered.  "And really it's the first draft, moved around some, with like one thing from the second draft.  And you don't get to have the drafts," he informed her, anticipating her next request.  "Mostly because I already threw them away.  Sorry."

"It's okay, I'm just really glad that I get to have this."

"Good.  And I mean what I said – what I wrote – Heather.  We should have a kid.  And when I say 'kid', I mean 'baby' just so we're clear."

"That works," she sighed.  "As long as I'm allowed to translate 'kid' to 'baby' in my head."

"You can do that," Jake agreed.  "And I don't know when I changed my mind," he confessed with his next breath.  "I just – the more I thought about it, the only reason I could see to not have a kid is that we hadn't had a kid.  I don't know if that makes sense."

"It does, I think," Heather murmured.  "It's a big step – a big change.  That's why I wanted us to talk about it," she pretended to grumble. 

"Well, we're gonna talk about it," he griped in return, feigning annoyance.  "Every time we talk 'til I can come home, I bet.  I mean, we like talking to each other, right?"

"Right!" she declared.  "And this might just be my new favorite topic of conversation."

"This is definitely your new favorite topic of discussion," Jake laughed, "I know that for sure.  And – you know – I almost told you when we talked on Sunday," he admitted.  "You'd had a really bad day, and then you said you were afraid to talk about us having kids too much because I might say something you were afraid to hear.  I hated that.  That you didn't—"

"I trust you Jake," she interjected.  "Trust me," she chuckled, "I trust you, especially on this."

"I hope so, Babe," he returned.  "And I really did almost tell you," he repeated.  "But I'd already sent this to Mom, and like I said, I wanted to give you one more fun surprise on your birthday.  Even though this is not a present."

"Fun surprise, great surprise, best surprise ever," she practically sang in response.  "And way bigger – more important – than a present," she confirmed, continuing, "Not that I'm against presents.  Just so we're clear.  I mean, I like getting flowers sometimes.  Or every time you get them for me.  But still.  This is way better." 

"Not gonna stop gettin' you flowers, Babe," he promised.  "Even if we are gonna turn into the married with kids kinda people." 

"Good."  Heather expelled a long breath – a contented and satisfied sound that Jake let wash over him. 

She believed him – finally – he realized.  When he said he was ready, she believed him, and she trusted that he was.  Jake allowed a sigh of relief.    "I love you, Babe."

"I love you too," she assured him brightly.

"And Happy Birthday, Heather."

"Thanks," she murmured.  "So, Jake," she continued a few seconds later.  "Finish telling me about how you're gonna teach our kids to play chess.  I might've gotten us off on a tangent this time—"

"We got off on a tangent, huh?" he teased, "Well, I probably share some of the blame."

"Tell me about how you're gonna teach our kids to play chess, Hon," she requested again.

"Not me – we.  We're gonna teach our kids to play chess," he corrected immediately.  "Using Gram's chessboard."

 

* * *

The chessboard was in actuality an antique table with the gameboard inlaid on top.  EJ had built the table for his wife for their fifth anniversary, he'd once explained to Heather, beaming at her when she'd correctly guessed that it was his way of observing the "wood anniversary".  The table stood in a small nook at the end of the hallway that sat between the family room and the kitchen in the ranch house, and there was almost always a game in progress.  Betsy and EJ had played a running succession of games for years – both before and after their marriage – followed by EJ and Johnston once he was old enough, then EJ and Betsy had resumed their game when Johnston had departed for the Army. 

EJ had introduced his grandsons to chess one weekend when they were staying at the ranch, and that series of games had continued into their high school years. Eric had dropped out of the game around fourteen or fifteen in favor of a weekly round of golf with his grandfather, but EJ and Jake had stuck with chess until Jake had left for college.  The game had ceased for a bit – EJ hadn't been able to coax Betsy back to the chessboard during the last few years of her life – but had restarted the day that Jake had moved in at the ranch.

Then, when they had first started dating, Jake had recruited Heather as his partner against his grandfather.  "We're white, he's black," he'd told her, "So, you switch the horse statue – don't ask – to face the other side when you've made your move.  That's how we know whose turn it is.  And there's a pad of paper in the drawer where we write down who wins.  'Kay?"

"'Kay," she'd agreed, grinning at him as she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and backed him into the corner so she could kiss him.

And this team configuration – EJ versus Heather and Jake – had continued when the newlyweds had moved into the ranch house following their honeymoon. 

The game had stopped again for a while near the end of EJ's life, but Jake had started it back up the evening before he'd gone back to work at the end of his bereavement leave.  Heather recalled how, after they'd come home from a day in Rogue River, he'd steered her into and through the family room, directing her to the chess table.  "We should finish the game," he'd suggested, seating himself in his grandfather's chair.  "It's gotta be what?  Five, six moves?" he'd asked rhetorically before moving EJ's knight for him, putting Heather's – and his – queen in danger.  "Check," he'd announced, turning the horse figurine around and looking at her expectantly.

Silently, Heather had moved her queen out of danger from the knight – and directly into danger of EJ's – now Jake's – bishop. 

"Still check," he'd grumbled before complaining, "Babe, you can't just give 'im the game.  Gramps'd hate that."

She'd shaken her head.  "Just this once," she'd argued, turning the horse around to face her husband.  "Since it's his last game."

Frowning, Jake had waited a full minute before making his play.  Finally, he'd moved the bishop, picking up her queen and laying it on its side across the board.  "Checkmate."

Heather had retrieved the notebook – a composition book that hailed (she'd guessed) from the early nineties, give the discoloration of the pages – and a pen from the drawer, handing both to Jake.  He'd accepted it, but hadn't made any move to enter the win, instead watching her as she'd begun to reset the board.

"We're gonna keep playing," he'd said, though it had been hard to tell if he was asking a question or making a statement.  Heather had nodded.  "I'll take black, and you'll play white."

* * *

 

"Ah, so more of your Green family togetherness plan," she decided.  "Like going camping instead of hunting.  I really love this idea." 

"We're already playing, Babe," he reasoned. "So, we'll just bring them into our game when they're old enough.  That's what Gram and Gramps did.  Even when Eric and I knew how to play, we still consulted with Gram sometimes.  She knew how to beat Gramps.  Course, the two of them, they played a really long time – a lot longer than Gramps and I played."

"I know.  He told me that they used to play chess by letter when he was in the Army," Heather chuckled.  "In Europe.  Fighting a war.  By letter." 

"Worse, Gram had to draw the whole board out for him, every letter that she sent him."

She nodded, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see her.  "I can't even imagine that," she said after a beat.  "Waiting for two, three, four weeks for my letter to get to you and then for you to write me back with your next move," she sighed.  "Well, except that this time, I actually have been waiting three weeks for you to tell me your next move, Hon."

"I've been busy," Jake defended himself, "And it hasn't been three weeks."

"Two and a half then."

"Well, take a picture of the board and send it to me," he instructed.  "I'll let you know my move, okay?  And be glad that we have email and digital cameras, so you don't hafta draw it for me."

"Trust me, I'm grateful for that.  Even if we can't talk every day, at least we have email," she declared brightly.  "And I'll take a picture as soon as I get home," she promised, not bothering to remind him that she'd sent him a photo of the board more than two weeks before.  "Though that doesn't seem fair," she continued, observing, "You and Eric and your grandmother versus Gramps.  Three against one."  He could hear the frown in her voice.

"Gramps just pretended that Gram wasn't helping us," Jake told her.  "And we don't hafta do it exactly like them.  That's why we need to have a boy and a girl," he decided.  "It'll make figuring out the teams easier."

"Well, I like that idea," his wife said, holding her hand over her suddenly pounding – in a truly wonderful way – heart.  "Not at the same time, hopefully.  And not that we have any control over that.  You more than me—"

"Pretty sure I don't actually control that, Babe," he interjected, grinning to himself at the delight he could hear in her voice.  "You know that biology and genetics control that.  And you take what you get, right?  But I – I'd like to have one of each," he murmured, his tone deepening.  "A boy and a girl.  But yeah.  One at a time is good," he added a moment later, chuckling self-consciously.

He'd never told her that, and Heather couldn't keep from saying so.  "You have never said that before, Jake.  I just always figured you wanted boys.  And I can handle boys, no sweat," she laughed.  "But I hope we have a daughter too."

"We've talked about it," he argued.  "We said if we had a girl, we'd name her 'Abby'," he reminded.

"Not quite the same as saying you want to have a girl," she reasoned.  "A daughter.  But it's good, Jake.  Great.  I'm just really glad that you do." 

"Well, I do," he confirmed.  "I'm serious about that too.  You can add it to the pre-nup."

"How 'bout you add it right now to my love letter as a 'P.P.S.'?" she suggested.  "Please?  And then when you come home, we'll both add it to the pre-nup."

"Fine," Jake agreed, affecting a put-upon tone, even while digging through his backpack's front pocket for a pen.  "I'll add that for you Mrs. Green, if it'll make you happy."

"It'll make me soooo happy!" his wife declared.  "You make me happy, Hon."

"You make me happy too.  Adding it right now."

"So," Heather began about thirty seconds later.  "For the Recluse Greens' perpetual, never-ending, totally awesome team chess tournament, what are we gonna do for teams?  Boys versus girls, or daddy/daughter versus mother/brother?" she joked.  "Enquiring minds, want to know."

"Both," her husband decided distractedly.  He looked down at what he'd appended to his note – love letter, he corrected – shaking his head.

 

PPS: I hope we have a girl and a boy.  And if that means we have to have 3 or 4 kids that's ok too. 

 

"We'll just do both," he repeated, glancing over the entire page, his eye catching on:

 

So I'm saying/writing it.  We should have a kid.

 

"Flip a coin to start, pick how we're doin' teams," he continued while hastily adding to the line:

 

So I'm saying/writing it.  We should have a kid.  (Make a baby)

 

"Then the next year, we switch.  One way in even years, the other way in odd years.  That should work, right?"

Heather laughed.  "I love that even more.  But we'll hafta make sure we finish up any in-progress game on New Years' Eve," she decreed.  "So then, on the first, we go out to the water tower first thing, then home for pancakes for breakfast, and then we switch teams for the year."

"Sounds good.  And I've got the 'P.P.S.' added to your love letter."

"What's it say?"

"What I said before, basically.  For the rest, you're just gonna hafta wait, Heather," he advised her.  "You get to see it when I get to kiss you ag—"

"Don't you mean when we finally can try and make a baby?"

It was his turn to laugh.  "Yeah, that too.  Pretty sure I'm gonna want to kiss you and try and make a baby with you."

"Well, I'm definitely gonna want to do all that and more, Mister.  But I guess I can wait until then to read my 'P.P.S.'  Though 'for the rest' has me intrigued."

"And I like it when you're intrigued," her husband assured her.

"Right," Heather returned, though she sounded distracted.  "Sorry, Jake," she apologized a few seconds later.  "Someone is calling me, and I keep getting the ring-through beep – whatever you call it—"

"You wanna hang up?"

"No!" she declared vehemently.  "I wanna talk to you."

"Okay, but – you talked to your dad, right?"

"Yes.  I talked to Dad," she confirmed.  "Well, I talked to John and Kerry first.  They called me, like, right as I was leaving the house, because John needed to get to work, and they wanted to sing to me.  But – so you know – I called Dad back on the way to school, and then Tommy called me right before the end of the lunch break, and Mikey called me when he was on a break, so I'll call Andy later and apologize for ignoring him, okay?"

"Sounds good," Jake acknowledged.  "I just try to keep them from all hating me for stealing you away from them, that's all."

"Well, Mister, what if I wanted to be stolen?" Heather inquired.  "But only by you, Jake."

"Love you too.  And you know, make sure you talk to your brother sometime today, so the next time he sees me, he doesn't deck me, okay?"

"Promise I'll talk to him," she reassured her husband, "And Andy's not gonna deck you.  But just in case, I'll stand in front of you the whole time, next time we see them." 

Maybe she'd be pregnant, the next time she and Jake were with her family in Buffalo, Heather decided, allowing herself to "think ahead".  Her mother had always insisted on getting a photograph of her brothers or cousins standing behind their pregnant wives, both their hands resting on the mother-to-be's pregnant belly.  It was a moment that Heather had always anticipated, even as a teenager when, succumbing to peer pressure, she'd rolled her eyes along with her cousin Jessica, who had always called it "so sappy".  Andy and Tommy had claimed it was sappy too, but they had indulged Renate Lisinski, and they had never seemed too put out over having to pose with their wives in the backyard or the living room of the Lisinski home, depending on the weather and time of year. 

And even after their mother had passed away, when Kerry was pregnant, first with Joey, then with Megan, John had insisted that they still had to take "Mom's favorite picture".  So, yes, Heather could easily imagine herself, pregnant and beaming, standing in front of Jake with his arms wrapped around her, his hands splayed protectively over their baby nestled within her.  She knew, too, that – inevitably – at least one of those photographs would include them exchanging a kiss, and that that photo would definitely end up in their collection of "kissing pictures".  Heather couldn't wait. 

"Because if I'm standing in front of you, Hon, there's really nothing he can do to you.  He wouldn't dare!" she declared, teasing, "So, I'll protect you."

'Maybe in front of the Christmas tree', she mused to herself.  They alternated holidays between Jericho and Buffalo, and this year they were supposed to spend Thanksgiving with the Greens, and Christmas with the Lisinskis.  Maybe if everything went exactly as she hoped – and she couldn't help but hope – and she got pregnant in Hawaii, then she'd be five or six months along by Christmastime.  That, Heather knew, would make a perfect "Mom's favorite picture".

"Thanks, Babe," Jake chuckled.  "Defendin' my honor.  But still.  Talk to your brother."

"I will," she sighed.  "It was good to talk to them.  They all say 'hi' to you, by the way.  And Mikey wanted to know if I was secretly trying to get pregnant—"

"He wants you to lay off of him, Heather," Jake reminded gently.  "He thinks us having a kid will distract you."

"It's actually your job to distract me, Hon," she returned flirtatiously, "Not our kid's.  And I told him that I was not secretly trying to get pregnant, mostly because of the seven-thousand-mile problem, but that it was a definite topic for discussion in—"  She cut herself off, inhaling sharply.  She could think about Hawaii – dream about Hawaii – but she couldn't talk about it with Jake, not until and unless he was in a "good place to talk".   "Well, it's a topic of discussion for when you come home."

"Hey, it's a good topic of discussion whenever you want to talk about it, Babe.  We don't hafta wait until I get home," her husband told her.  "Whenever and whatever you wanna talk about.  But – you know – maybe don't tell Mike when to go to bed anymore," he advised, "Just stick to tellin' me when to go to bed, 'cause I'll actually listen to you."

"Well, you will if you know what's good for you, anyway," she joked.

"Good for me, good for you.  That's the same thing, right?"

"Right!" Heather exclaimed, giggling.  "And it's very important to be well-rested," she added primly.

"Very important to be well-somethin' anyway," he returned.

"It was good to talk to them all, and I'll make sure I talk to Andy and Deb, I promise," she said.  "But anyway, my dad told me the story of the night I was born, like always."

In Iraq, Jake nodded.   He'd listened in on Joe and Heather's birthday call more than once, and he enjoyed how his father-in-law always drew the tale out, recounting the joy he'd felt at the realization that he finally had a daughter after three sons.  "I love your brothers, Sweetheart," Joe told Heather every year, "But I was – Mom and I both – we were thrilled to have a little girl – to have you – at last."

"I'm gonna hafta pay attention," he murmured.

"Pay attention?"

"When our kids are born.  I'm gonna need to pay attention so I can tell 'em about it later," he clarified.  "On birthdays, we'll have cake for breakfast, and then tell them all about when they were born, like your dad does."

"Now that I'm gonna hold you to, Jake," his wife declared.  "Though, I don't actually know if my dad tells my brothers about when they were born, or if it's just me," she admitted, allowing a somewhat strained chuckle.  "But I hope he tells them too."

"You really think your dad only tells you about the night you were born just because you're the only girl?" he laughed.  "If he's only telling you, it's because they made fun of him for telling them, so he stopped.  But you love it," he reasoned, "So he still calls you every birthday morning."

"They probably did make fun of him, those jerks," Heather grumbled.  "Is it weird that I'm an adult who likes that my dad still tells me about the night I was born?"

"Nah," he denied, "It's cute.  Just one more thing on the infinite list of things I love about you."

"Awwwww! Jake," she sighed, sounding quite pleased.  "That is so sweet!" she continued, giggling at the huffing noise he made. 

"Well, it is your birthday, so I guess I can be sweet."

"Actually, I believe I can require sweetness per the Birthday Rules," Heather countered. 

"True."

"And just so we're clear, you are now required to tell our kids about the night – or day – they were born," she informed him.  "But if they turn into jerks who make fun of you, you can stop."

"I don't think your brothers are jerks for not wanting to hear about when they were born," Jake said.  "They're just – just guys."

"You listen to your dad every year when he tells you what he was doing when he was the age you're turning.  I know it's not exactly the same, but I like it because I also get to hear about you when you were two, three, four, five," she reminded.  "And you're a guy and you're not a jerk about it."

"Well, I might be in ten years when he's telling stories about when I was a teenager.  I don't need Dad givin' our kids any ideas."

Heather laughed at that.  "Well, I'll be the jerk on that one, and say something like 'little pitchers have big ears' very significantly."

"I don't know that one, Babe," he admitted.  "I think I get it, but what's it mean?"

"Gramps never said that?  Or your grandmother?  That seems like something your grandmother would've said to Gramps from everything I've heard," she offered.  "But my mom used to say it sometimes.  It's just an old-fashioned saying, like a code phrase that adults use to remind each other that sometimes when you think things go over little kids' heads, they really don't," she explained.  "So be careful when you're talking in front of them, 'cause they're gonna totally get it.  Every word."

"See? That actually is code," Jake declared.  "Unlike 'make a baby'.  But I'm pretty sure my dad will know what you mean."

"Your mom too," she agreed, chuckling.  "She might beat me to saying it."

"Yeah.  She's still kinda annoyed over the Roman orgy story, and now I'm startin' to think you're gonna be the person who teaches our kids about Nero and Caligula."

"Probably," she confirmed.  "But now you know if I ever say 'little pitchers have big ears' to you—"

"That I should immediately shut the hell up," he promised.

"Maybe just change the subject," she advised.

"So, how old were you when you figured that one out, Babe?"

"What do you mean?" Heather returned, sounding genuinely perplexed.

"I mean, how old were you when you were sitting at the kitchen table, listening to your parents, maybe your mom and one of your aunts talk 'bout something, and your mom said 'little pitchers hear everything'—"

"'Little pitchers have big ears'," she corrected.

"Right.  So how old were you when she said that, and you just knew what it meant?"

"I didn't exactly know what it meant besides 'I don't want you to hear this, Heather'," she admitted.  "Pretty sure I thought I was the only 'little pitcher' in the world," she giggled.  "But I was eight, probably.  Really."

"Hey!" her husband protested, "I believe you when you tell me you were eight.  Unlike some people I know.  So," he continued after a short pause, "What scandalous thing was your mom trying to keep you from knowing about?"

"It wasn't one thing, so it wasn't really scandalous," she hedged.  "But I do remember the first time when my mother basically told me to keep moving, nothing to see or hear here, and instead of obeying, I just went around the corner, hid and listened.  She was talking to Mrs. Vogel from next door and – oh!  I almost forgot.  You do know Melissa Landeros because she used to be Missy Healy."

"Wow," he responded a beat later. "Wow.  Chuck Landeros really married up."

"Jake, you always say that about every guy, no matter who they married," Heather complained cheerfully.

"'Cause every guy who gets married, marries up," he argued.  "It's like a law of the universe."

"And you always say that too.  But if that's true, and you married up when you married me—"  

"Babe—"

"—that means," she continued, speaking over him, "That would mean, I married down when I married you, and I don't feel that way.  So, don't insult me, Mister," she warned jokingly, "Especially on my birthday."

"Well, Happy Birthday, Babe.  And maybe think of it like an optical illusion," he suggested.  "From my perspective, I definitely married up, but from yours, we're on even ground.  Or the same height.  Somethin' like that."

"I'm not sure that's better," his wife said, making an exasperated noise.

"I love you," Jake told her.  "That make it better?"

"Of course.  That always makes everything better," she declared happily.  "And I love you too."

"And Chuck Landeros still really married up," he insisted.

"Well, they seem happy to me," Heather murmured, thinking about Melissa and Chuck walking off with their daughter chattering between them.  "I like them."

"Missy Healy," her husband mused in return.

"Your mom said you used to play together," she informed him.  "You and Eric with Melissa and the Thom girls."

"Yeah, that's true," he acknowledged.  "And technically, for a little while there, I might have had a crush on her.  Before I officially liked girls." 

"Oh, really?" Heather exclaimed, joking, "Because, you know, she did name her kid after you—"

"She didn't name her kid after me," Jake scoffed.  "It was a dumb kid, one-way, two-week crush that she knew nothing about."

"Uh huh."

"She prob'ly didn't even think about me when she picked the name.  Or if she did, she was like 'oh wait' for about half a minute and then she decided it didn't matter.  Because she sure didn't know that I was gonna fall for and marry her kids' future third grade teacher," he reminded.  "Future vice principal and principal, too."

"Jake, I think it's cute that you once had a crush on Missy Healy Landeros," she told him.  "Okay?"

"Okay."

"And to bring this all full-circle, Melissa told me today that her Jake has a little crush on me—"

"Well, that figures," her husband teased.

"—which she thinks confirms that her kid has good taste," she concluded.

"It means he has great taste, Babe.  So," he began about ten seconds later, "This Jake kid sent you a love letter yet?"

"Nope," she chuckled softly.  "And there's only two more days of school, so I'm guessin' that's not gonna happen.  Besides, I just got the ultimate love letter from the only Jake – only person – I wanna be gettin' love letters from, so…."

"The 'ultimate' huh?"

"Definitely the ultimate," she sighed.  "And you should absolutely write me another love letter if you are moved to do so, Hon.  But it's gonna be hard to top this one."

"How 'bout after this job, I come home and we're just in the same place all the time," he countered.  "Most of the time, anyway.  And then we can just talk about this stuff."

"I like that plan," Heather confirmed, and Jake knew she was smiling – so was he.  "But – you know – maybe you can still draw me airplanes and then leave them places for me to find.  Like on my desk or under my pillow—"

"You check under your pillow regularly?" he teased.  "What, lookin' for money from the tooth fairy?  Hate to break it to you, but we're gonna be the tooth fairy, coughin' up cash, from here on out."

"We are gonna be the tooth fairy," she declared, a pleased note ringing in her tone.  "And we're gonna be the kinda tooth fairy that gets me angry calls from other parents."

"People actually call other people to talk about the tooth fairy and get mad about it?" Jake questioned.  "That can't be a real thing."

"Oh, it's a real thing," his wife informed him, sighing heavily.  "Tooth fairy payment rates are a big deal, especially between moms.  Kids talk, and then they go home and tell their parents what the tooth fairy at Susie or Johnny's house pays, and there's just a lot of controversy."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope.  This was actually walk-on, new business at the PTA two PTA meetings ago—"

"You send me a read out on the PTA meeting every time, and I would have remembered the tooth fairy being an issue," he argued.  "Are you sure you're not making this up?"

"I couldn't make this up, trust me," she defended herself, explaining, "That was the meeting I said had stuff too crazy to even get into.  Someone actually stood up and demanded the PTA vote on an approved school wide tooth fairy rate schedule to 'ensure fairness' and 'end this out-of-control tooth fairy inflationary spiral'."

"I thought that 'crazy' was code for 'too boring to bother typing'," he muttered.

"Not even."  She was giggling now, and he could easily imagine the eye roll she would have indulged in had they been together.  Heather loved being a teacher, and she did an amazing job of maintaining a professional demeanor at work, but she also let that slip when she was with him.  And, sometimes, when she got wound up about something, it was the most entertaining thing in the world to listen to her vent about the foibles of the people she dealt with at the Elementary. 

"Jake it got so heated.  I honestly would not have been surprised if there'd been a fist fight," she snickered.  "It was that crazy.  That wild.  And sitting there, listening to it all – listening to those grown adults whine about how upset they were about what the tooth fairy on Elm Avenue is paying versus the one on Cherry Street, I just thought: 'if this is what people want to complain about, then they can complain about me.  The Green Ranch tooth fairy is gonna be legend'." 

"There are different tooth fairies for where you live?  By street?"

"Apparently.  But we don't really live on a street," she reminded. 

"We live on a road," he countered.  "Just not a public road."

"Exactly.  So, we get to set the going rate for Green Ranch Road and for the Green Ranch."

"So, our tooth fairy is the Green Ranch tooth fairy.  Got it."

"And the Green Ranch tooth fairy is gonna be legend," Heather repeated.  "I mean, I'll still probably talk to April, see what the Granville Avenue tooth fairy is gonna be paying," she decided.  "But I'm warning you now, Hon.  I absolutely plan to be on the high end when it comes to tooth fairies."

"So, we're gonna overpay our kids for what's basically dead bones they don't need any more falling outta their heads?" he snorted.  "Okay, Babe."

"Yes, except teeth aren't actually bones," she told him.

"Since when?" he returned, his tone dubious.

"Since always?  They're – they're just teeth.  But they don't grow with your body, so they're not bones.  They don't have bone marrow.  If they did – if they were bones, they'd grow," she explained, "And you wouldn't hafta lose 'em in the first place."

"Wait – what – okay," Jake mumbled, sounding perturbed by this information.  "That makes sense, sorta," he added, though his voice still carried a hint of doubt.  "But how – how did I not know that?  How did my dad not know that?  He told me teeth are bones."

"Jake, a lotta people think that.  Besides you had Mrs. Owensby for third grade and not me." 

"Right," he agreed.  "But I'd rather be married to you, Mrs. Green.  Even if that means you hafta put up with my deficient education at the hands of Mrs. Owensby."

"Well, since I love being married to you, Jake," Heather said, her voice full of affection, "I will happily put up with this minor hole in your education.  And lots of people don't know this.  Teeth are like bones," she emphasized.  "Just not technically bones.  They form and that's it.  They're done."

"Okay then," he acknowledged, chuckling.  "And I guess if we hafta, we can give our kids a buck a tooth.  But if anybody decides to get mad at me about that, I'm just givin' 'em the school's number.  They can take it up with you or the PTA.  You and the PTA."

"Hon, nobody is gonna get mad about a dollar per tooth," she laughed.  "That's a pretty average rate in this town.  I meant, like, five dollars a tooth.  And ten for the first one.  That'll get me angry phone calls."

"I'm gonna be makin' some of those angry phone calls, Babe," he joked.  "That's way too much.  That's like a hundred fifty bucks per kid," he protested, "For teeth that were gonna fall outta their heads anyway.  You know how much we got for teeth?" he asked rhetorically.  "A quarter!"

"That's what Andy, Tommy, and John got too," she returned, clearly trying to stifle a giggle.  "And they were so incensed that Mikey and I got fifty cents, because of inflation."

"Would've incensed me too," her husband grumbled.

"I've gotta admit Jake, I did not see the tooth fairy as being a thing you were gonna have a strong opinion on," Heather informed him.  "I mean, I didn't actually ever think about it, but if I had, I would have figured it'd be one of those things that I'd say I'd take care of, and you'd just say 'Thanks, Babe'."

"Hey!  We're not gonna be like that," he protested, reminding with his next breath, "I told you, I'm in for all of it.  Even the crazy, overpaying our kids for somethin'-that-was-gonna-happen-to-them-anyway stuff."

"Well, good," she murmured.  "I'm glad that's how you feel.  But the tooth fairy is – it's silly, and not very important—"

"It's important to you, Heather," he interrupted.  "So now it's important to me, too."

"I just think it's important to give our kids – well, any kid, all kids – a sense of – of joy and wonder," she declared.  "The world knocks that out of you at some point, but that's not our job.  Our job is the opposite – to keep that from happening as long as possible."

"Doesn't happen to everybody," Jake countered.  "Never happened to you."

"I actually do know that the tooth fairy and Santa and the Easter Bunny are not real, Hon," she teased, "All appearances to the contrary." 

"I meant that you have joy and wonder, Babe," her husband informed her.  "And you share that with everyone you meet.  You make me have it."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize," he admonished.  "It's not my natural state, but I've adapted, I guess.  And, you know, I generally hope our kids take after you, but I really hope they get that from you.  And the Green Ranch tooth fairy."

"Awww, Jake!  Thank you," she murmured happily.  "But I'm still gonna hope our kids are like you, too.  You're adventurous and caring and sweet.  I hope our kids get that from you.  And I'm glad you're in for all the stuff – fun, gross, boring, and crazy—"

"Joy and wonder, too, Heather."

"Right.  And in the spirt of all the fun, gross, boring, crazy, joyful, and wondrous stuff," his wife listed, "I can come down to two dollars per tooth.  Which I like better actually," she admitted.  "I'll just order a bunch of two-dollar bills at the bank when the time comes.  That'll make it extra special."

"Then our kids'll never spend the money," he predicted with a groan. 

"Well, we will encourage them to spend it," she decided.  "Just not on candy.  So," Heather continued, "We should probably adopt my mom's rule that, if a baby tooth falls out with a visible cavity, then that's a defective tooth and the tooth fairy is very disappointed and only leaves half the money."

"So, which of your brothers caused that rule to happen?" Jake asked, chuckling knowingly.

"All of 'em," she returned, giggling.  "But Tommy—"

"Of course," he grumbled.

"—had, like, four defective teeth in a row.  Which – and this happened when I was like two, so I don't actually remember it, but I've heard the stories.  But anyway, my parents couldn't understand it, because – after the second cavity – Dad was standin' over him every night making sure he brushed his teeth.  Only it turned out he had a stash of grape and watermelon Hubba Bubba under his mattress, and that he was falling asleep every night chewing gum."

"That he'd bought with his tooth fairy money?" Jake suggested rhetorically.  "That sounds exactly like your brother," he muttered. 

It sounded exactly like Joe Lisinski to stand over his dental hygiene challenged son to make sure he was taking care of business, too.  It wasn't the fun part of fatherhood, Jake decided, that was for sure.  More like the boring part, and Jake knew himself well enough to recognize that it would never occur to him on his own to take up monitoring how their kid was brushing his teeth.  Jake wasn't even sure he knew how you were supposed to brush your teeth, not really.  After all, he still got lectures from his dental hygienist every time he went in for a cleaning. 

Still, in the next instance, he heard himself offer, "I can probably do that.  Make sure our kids brush their teeth if we need to do that.  But you're gonna hafta tell me, Babe.  That I need to do that, okay?"

"Okay," his wife agreed, her voice hitching softly.  "Jake," she sighed.

He cleared his throat then, inquiring, "So, how did your parents leave half a quarter?"

"Don't you mean, how'd the tooth fairy leave half a quarter?" Heather joked.  "No idea.  Pretty sure Tommy was losing his baby teeth before I was born, Hon.  They probably left him a dime and a nickel.  Dime and three pennies?"

"Well by the fourth defective tooth in a row, I hope it was just a dime," he groused.

"That's probably it," she agreed.  "But for Mikey and me, we just got a quarter instead of a half-dollar coin.  And boy," she joked, "I do not know how you all survived on so little per tooth."

"It was rough, lemme tell you," her husband assured her.  "So, exactly how many times did you get your payout reduced for a defective tooth, Mrs. Green?"

"Just once," she laughed. 

"That's because you're a quick learner.  Unlike Tommy.  So, Babe," he continued a beat later, "I've got a friendly amendment for you."

"Let's hear it," she requested.

"How 'bout any kid who loses both their front teeth at the same time, we can round that up to five bucks."

"Aww!" she giggled.  "I like that.  And by both, we mean both on the top or both on the bottom, right?"

"I guess?" Jake returned, thinking suddenly of the photograph of a grinning, six-and-a-half-year-old Heather with both her top front teeth missing that lived on the fireplace mantle at her parents' house.  "I mean kids don't usually lose one tooth on top and one tooth on bottom, right?  That's not cute – that'd just make 'em look weird."

Heather snickered.  "That would look pretty goofy," she agreed.  "But we're still gonna love our kids even when they look goofy.  And I accept your friendly amendment," she announced happily, "Because that is exactly the spirit of generosity I'm looking for in the Green Ranch tooth fairy.  You are officially hired, Hon.  We'll get to be co-tooth fairies." 

"Didn't realize I was applying for a job.  So, I think I should let you know that I have a really bad habit of working way too much."

"You are working too much, Jake," she confirmed, the cheerful lilt disappearing immediately from her voice.  "I don't like it—"

"Heather—"

"—and I worry—"

"—it was a job interview joke—"

"—about you."

"—that's all," he completed.

He paused to allow her to say something, but all he got was a cautious, "Okay…" 

"This morning you said you wouldn't hire somebody who said their biggest flaw was that they worked too much," he reminded, complaining, "I – it was supposed to be funny, Babe."

“It is funny,” she insisted, though to Jake’s ear she sounded skeptical.  “Though actually it turns out I’m gonna be doing a lot of job interviews this summer." 

"Yeah?"

"Let's just say that me being appointed vice principal isn't the only change around here.  But I don't want to talk about that now," she declared distractedly.  "I'll email you about that."

"Okay," he acknowledged, "But really, it was a joke.  I – I accept the offer.  I'll be co-tooth fairies with you."

"But you know you really don't hafta, Jake," Heather sighed.  "It's silly—"

"Prob'ly," her husband interrupted her.  "But who cares?  We can be silly if we wanna be.  And I want to be the tooth fairy with you, Babe," he insisted, chuckling softly.  "Stop tryin' to talk me outta this.  And, yeah, it's silly and crazy.  But I want to do this crazy, fun, boring and gross thing with you," he said, making a strangled sound.  "I want us to have a couple of kids and…."  He paused a moment, taking a deep breath.  "I think I'm gonna figure out how to draw teeth."

"Okay.  But why?" she wanted to know.

"For the notes.  The tooth fairy leaves notes, right?" Jake offered.  "Least the Chestnut Street tooth fairy did."

"Maybe I got notes?" she supposed, "I don't really remember.  But I'd remember if there were teeth drawings."

"I'm not talking, like, science homework diagrams," he clarified.  "But cartoon teeth.  With word bubbles you can put funny sayings in.  That work for you?"

"That – that works great," she agreed, and he could hear the humor – the sweetness and light that he loved – begin to seep back into her tone.  "That sounds fun."

He found himself continuing.  "Bonus points for puns about molars and incisors, Babe," he chuckled, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard her laughing along with him.  "And then – then we put the drawing and the note and the money in their room in the middle of the night," he suggested. "Or maybe I do that part alone, 'cause you would definitely wake them up with all your giggling," he accused in jest.  "And then the next day, I play dumb and say 'whaddya mean the tooth fairy came last night, the tooth fairy isn't real'—"

"And I'll say 'I don't know about that, Hon.  There's paperwork, it looks pretty legit to me.  Tooth drawing, note, fairy dust'—"

"'Wad of cash'," he interjected, snickering.

"Two dollars is hardly a wad of cash, especially when it's one two-dollar bill," Heather countered happily.  "And I think this is an amazing plan," she pronounced, before claiming, "Except I don't know any teeth jokes."  She paused a moment.  "Well, maybe one."

"Yeah?  C'mon," Jake cajoled.  "Let's hear it, Babe."

""I think you may live to regret this," she warned, failing to suppress a giggle.  "But, uh, what's the best day to lose a tooth?"

"Oh, I can tell this is gonna be bad," Jake chuckled, before gamely adding, "I dunno.  What's the best day to lose a tooth?"

"Tooth's-day of course!" his wife declared, giving in, and laughing at her own bad joke.

Jake groaned.  "Okay.  Yeah.  So, that definitely belongs on a note from the Green Ranch tooth fairy."

"I think so," she agreed, making a soft, almost hiccuppy noise.  "And oooh!  Do you know what the tooth fairy's favorite animal is?" she demanded.

"No, Babe," he returned, "We don't need these yet.  Stop."

"The molar bear!" Heather informed him, earning herself another, louder, groan.  "Sorry Mister," she apologized breezily, though the was absolutely no hint of contrition in her voice.  "But you're the one who started the tooth fairy tangent and then pun challenged me.  I really thought you knew better."

"Totally self-inflicted wound for sure," he agreed. 

"Yeah, 'cause you're tired," she sighed.  "Did you at least get some sleep?"

"Babe, you know how I said I didn't mind if you told me to go to bed?  There was a whole, implied 'when we're in the same place, goin' to bed together' clause in there."

"I did pick up on that," she assured him.  Still, she persisted.  "So, did you get some sleep, Jake?"

"Five hours," he answered, giving in.  This was not worth getting sideways about with her.  Besides, as much as he didn't want her to worry about him, he also didn't know what he'd do if she ever stopped.  "At least four and a half.  And I'll catch another hour while you're at the restaurant, maybe."

"Okay," she acknowledged, tracing the words 'We should do something about it' with her index finger.  "I really hope you do because I love you, and I don't want you to be tired.  That's all."

"I love you, too, Babe," Jake murmured.  "And Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," Heather returned, glancing up from the letter in her lap to look across the teacher's parking lot toward the school building in time to see Mrs. McVeigh exit.  "Oh my God!  What time is it?"

She let go of the love letter, turning her wrist so she could see the face of her watch, though Jake beat her to it, announcing, "Three-thirty-seven.  What's wrong, Heather?"

"I just about had a heart attack because Mrs. McVeigh—"

"Sandy, Babe," he corrected quietly.

"Right.  Sandy.  She just came outta the school, and I thought it must be after four o'clock, and I need to get home.  There's that delivery coming—"  She stopped abruptly, letting out a little gasp.  "Oh God, Jake.  I'm – I'm sorry."

Jake could hear the strain in her voice, and he knew she was worried about what to say next.  And it was all his fault.  He'd said in his email that morning that she needed to be home for her surprise delivery – and that it wasn't something they should talk about on an unsecure connection.  'God, I'm so sorry, Babe,' he thought before quickly feeding her a line with enough of a hint that it would be plausible for his cover story.  "Your dad's sending you something for your birthday, huh?  And you didn't want me to know about that," he said flatly, modulating his tone so that it was just short of annoyed.  "Something expensive, I bet."

''I don't mean it,' he added silently.  Of course, she already knew that.  The expensive, had-to-be-signed-for, present was from him after all.  But he also wanted to make it as easy on her to play along as he could.  And while it was a handy go-to, he hadn't actually planned on her knowing that he'd turned her dad into the disapproving and disappointed father-in-law. 

"I – I don't know," she returned, her tone turning the slightest bit shrill.  "I just know it has to be signed for.  But that doesn't mean it's expensive," Heather argued quickly.  "I mean, it could just be something sentimental, something of my mom's.  That – that makes sense, right?"

She was feeling around the edges, trying to make sure that this was the way to go – or asking for something more to build on.  "You're right, Babe, that's probably it.  Something of your mom's," he agreed.  "And hey.  He's allowed to get you a birthday present.  He's your dad."  Jake sucked a quick breath in through his teeth, trying to decide whether or not to do it.  To say it.  'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!’  "I mean, as long as he's not sending you a divorce lawyer."

"Jake!" she rebuked, and Jake felt himself cringe.  "He's – he's not." 

She stopped, and he had no doubt that she was once again chewing her lip, trying to figure out what to do – to say.  He knew he had to help her out.  This wasn't her job, she wasn't cut out for this, and for at least the thousandth time since he'd begun this assignment, Jake was struck by the certain knowledge that he wasn't either.  Not anymore.  "I'm—"

"He knows if he did that," Heather began tentatively.  "Well, he knows that would be it for him and me."

'Thank you, Babe.  That was perfect.'  He knew how hard that had to have been for her to say.  Even knowing it was all pretend.  All a goddamn lie.  But she was also trying to protect him, the only way she knew how, and he loved her so much for going along with it – and hated himself for putting her in this position.  "You don't hafta say that, Heather.   Do that," he protested, repeating, "He's your dad."

"And you're my husband," she returned.  "Who I love very, very, very much.  I just – I wish you guys just—"

"Hey!  He and I – we – we can get along the three times a year we actually hafta see each other, okay?  I promise." 

It was another lie.  In actuality, Jake got along with his father-in-law rather well.  They didn't always have a lot in common, but they did have the most important thing in common: they both loved Heather and they both held her wellbeing and happiness as a common goal.  And it was easier for Jake to talk to Joe than it was for him to talk with his own father.  He shook his head to clear it.  He needed to get them out of this conversation – needed to get her out of it, and on her way.  So, he'd thrown out the lie, hoping it would do the trick.

"Three times a year, huh?" Heather repeated dully.  "Well, Megan's baptism is one.  So, you still owe me two more times."

And there was the opening he needed.  He could work with that.  "Well, you know, there's a little more incentive in makin' a baby with you than going to your dad's for Christmas, Babe," he teased.  "But I'm gonna come home.  Soon.  Somehow.  I—" 

"Little more incentive?" she interrupted, "How about way more incentive," she joked, giggling, though there was an anxious note – a hint of panic – that Jake took as further impetus to draw this conversation to a close.  "That's how I feel, anyway."

"That's how I feel, too, Babe," he assured her.  "But hey.  You need to get home, see what your dad sent you.  So, I'm gonna hang up, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.  "But you're still gonna call me later, right Jake?"

"Yeah, Babe," he assured her.  He'd call her, to throw himself on her mercy, if nothing else.  "I'm gonna call you again in a half hour."  And worse than involving her in this debacle, he was going to have to involve her in killing off his grandfather for a second time so they could see each other. "I love you.  Happy Birthday."  So they could finally spend some time together, just the two of them.   "Can't – can't wait to make a baby with you."  So they could conceive a child.  Their child.

"I love you," Heather declared in return.  "And I can't wait to make a baby with you, either!"  But still, she didn't say good-bye, didn't end the call.

"Want me to hang up?" he asked a long moment later.  "I'm gonna say 'bye, Babe', okay?" he continued, not giving her a chance to respond.  "I love you.  Bye, Babe."

"Bye, Hon."

"Bye, Babe."

 

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 9.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

Heather mentions that if any radio in Jericho was going to pick up her cell phone call with Jake (this story takes place much closer to the timeframe when people's phone calls did get picked up by baby monitors and the like) it would be Jimmy Taylor's radio.  As you may recall, Jimmy had a unique and up-close view of the growing romance between Heather and Jake, walking in on them when they were hanging out, talking and kissing (bordering on making out) in the town council meeting room in Different Circumstances, Part 4C.  Then in Different Circumstances, Part 6D, as Jake and Heather are leaving Bass Lake after their picnic date (also another make out session for our favorite pair) they discover that Deputy Taylor has left them a note (in lieu of a citation) wishing them a good evening and reminding them that the lake and its parking lots are closed after dusk.  Heather and Jake have a few other encounters with Jimmy (and his wife and kids) in the Different Circumstances universe.  Some are already written; some are yet to come.  But yes, if anyone's radio could pick up their (about as risqué as they are ever going to get on the phone) call, it would be Jimmy's.

When Heather says that Jake is always eight years old in the stories he tells her about himself as a child, she is alluding to a conversation they had over his "5 years ago" birthday weekend in Different Circumstances Part 15A.

When Jake mentions the 'M and M' boy and Heather's hypothetical children with the 'M and M' boy (Mark Metzger, her former boyfriend) he is talking about their encounter with Mark at their Buffalo engagement party as described in Different Circumstances, Part 14G.  Heather even tells Jake: "And you know what that means?  We're gonna have beautiful babies, that's what," she said, answering her own question.  "Ten – twenty – times prettier than my purely hypothetical and completely imaginary offspring with Mark."

In Different Circumstances: Long Distance Relationship Part 2, when Heather and Jake speculate as to why Mrs. McVeigh has asked her to come in early, Jake says that if Heather is laid off from her job, they'll "just go have a kid".  Heather objects to this, saying: "I don't want starting a family – starting our family – to be my consolation prize if I have a career setback."

Tooth fairy pay rates are a bit of a parenting controversy (though I hope my imagined version at Jericho Elementary is on the extreme side).  In my research (yes, I researched this) I did find that the average tooth fairy payments in Kansas are a bit on the low end, while the average payment for New York state is on the high end relative to other states in the U.S.  Since Heather is from western New York state in the Different Circumstances universe, I thought it was entirely plausible that she would be planning to "overpay" her children for their baby teeth.

Also, I realize it's rather ironic that Skeet Ulrich the actor has boy/girl twins (who were quite young 17 years ago when this conversation took place) while the character he played (not quite 17 years ago) would prefer to NOT have twins of any type.  But it was a "fact" about Jake and Heather that I committed to a long time ago.  He's good with having one kid, but doesn't really want more than one at a time, even though Jake and Eric (in the Different Circumstances Universe) are twins.

 

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 9

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 450 pages and 11 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas (and nine hours ahead of Denver), so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

 

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

---

From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Tue Jun 06 14:32 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Returning the favor

Attachments:

---

 Jake,

I'm sorry, Son.

I spoke/wrote out of turn.  I should not have accused you of neglecting your wife.  I know you love Heather.

We had a good time today at Field Day.  Heather's class raised a hundred caterpillars to butterflies and released them to kick things off.  It was quite the sight.  The softball tournament went well, and Heather's class won so that was a good ending to the events of the day.  She told us that she'd taught all those kids so that made her even prouder of them. 

When I hugged Heather goodbye this afternoon she saw fit to tell me that the two of you are great, and that I don't need to worry about you.  That's easier said than done.  I've always worried about you and your brother and that extends to Heather and April too.  So, I am going to worry about you, Jake, as long as you're not home. 

Still, I'm sorry for my previous email.  Dads worry about their kids, that's just the way it is. 

 

Dad

---

 

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

Tuesday June 6, 3:41 pm (Jericho KS) / Tuesday June 6, 4:41 pm (Buffalo NY)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

Heather had just exited the school parking lot, turning right onto Fifth Street, when her cell phone trilled out her Buffalo ringtone.  She breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately felt guilty about it.  But the truth was, the end of her conversation with Jake had rattled her.  She loved him, she knew he loved her, and she was excited to think about starting their family.  And she hadn't thought anything of it when he'd joked about her brother decking him; she didn't love it, but her brothers were still quite protective of her and that meant that even now, even though they all claimed to like each other, there was a certain amount of posturing that took place whenever she and Jake were with her older siblings.  Reluctantly, Heather had gotten used to that.  But this was different.  Jake had implied that her father would prefer them to be divorced.  It had to be part of his cover story.  But he'd also always told her that the trick to a good cover was to stick to the truth when you could.  So, was there a part of him that didn't like her father or her family?  Did he really think they resented his place in her life? 

The Trailblazer's Bluetooth picked up the call, the ringtone broadcasting through the car's speaker system and yanking Heather from her brooding.  She'd think about – deal with – all that later.  She thumbed the button on the steering wheel, answering the call.  "Hi Andy," she greeted brightly.  "Sorry for ignoring you earlier."

There was laughter – a woman's laugh – on the other end of the connection.  "Add an 'M', Heather.  It's Mandy, not Andy," her sister-in-law declared. 

"And me!" a younger voice – Heather identified it as belonging to her nine-years-old-next-month niece, Alison – declared indignantly.  This was followed by another "And me!" chirped by five-year-old Hannah.

"Well, hi there, 'me', 'me', and Mandy!" Heather giggled.

"Auntie Heather, we're not 'Mimi', we're Ali and Hannah," the older girl protested.

"So sorry for the confusion," their aunt apologized immediately, though her tone was teasing.  "Hi Ali-Cat, hi Hannah-Banana."

"Okay, girls," Mandy signaled her daughters, "On three.  One.  Two.  Three!"  Together, Heather's sister-in-law and nieces launched into a fast-paced rendition of the Birthday Song.

"Thank you!  You guys did that way better than your dad, and way-way-way better than Uncle Mikey." 

"Well, to be fair, that's not hard," Mandy joked.  "And we accept your apology, because it wasn't Andy, it was our call that you ignored earlier."

Heather groaned softly.  "I'm sorry I ignored you, but Jake and I—"

"Liar!" Mandy accused, chuckling quietly.  "I figured that out about fifteen seconds into trying to beep through.  I don't mind stomping everyone else in the family, but you should always ignore us if you get the chance to talk to him," she sympathized.  "At least for the duration.  Does he know when he's coming home yet?"

"No," Heather admitted frowning to herself.  She was trying – had been trying for the better part of two months – to not be selfish and to not burden Jake with just how much she was missing him.  And she refused to admit too much about how she was feeling to her father or brothers either.  But her sisters-in-law were a different story.  They were as protective of her as anyone, but they also were much more likely to subscribe to her line of thinking: Jake wasn't the bad guy in this story; it was simply the situation – the temporary situation – they found themselves in that was less than ideal.  "But we're going to Hawaii for our anniversary, so there's that."

"Lucky!" Mandy declared.

"Mom, we should tell Daddy we wanna go to Hawaii, too," Ali suggested.

"Yeah, we'll just join Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake for their anniversary," Mandy teased.

"Uhh—"

"Don't worry, Heather.  I wouldn't do that to you because I love you," her sister-in-law assured.  "And your brother wouldn't do that because he also loves you.  Plus, I won't let him.  And he's cheap."

"I love you guys too," Heather laughed.  "And we're all at least a little cheap in our own unique ways because we're all related to Dad."

"Aint that the truth," Mandy grumbled.  "It still amazes me that Tommy agreed to go back out to Jericho for Thanksgiving right after we'd just been there for your wedding.  We bought plane tickets twice in one year," she recalled.  "Of course, Hannah was a lap child, so it was only three tickets, but it was still twice.  I really can't believe that happened."

"It happened.  And that was so much fun, having you guys and Dad and Mikey come to Thanksgiving with us."

"It was fun.  And that's how you know Tommy loves you.  He won't always say it, but he loves it when he gets to hang out with you.  I hope you know that."

"You know Tommy was just sad he had to fly, not drive," Heather argued, ignoring the rest of her sister-in-law's claim.  "You know that Lisinskis like to road trip, Mandy," she reminded.  "It's part of us all being motorheads."

"And the Greens—"

"Also road trip," Heather insisted, "Just that there are also times we fly places.  Like to islands with beaches.  Because we really like islands with beaches."  

"Fine," Mandy chuckled.  "But I'm still gonna be a little jealous."  She paused for a beat, then asked, "So Heth, do you have five, ten minutes to talk?"

"I do.  I'm in the car, headed home."  Heather glanced toward the right, knowing that she was about to pass the sign marking the town line.  "Just exited the town limits, so I have five minutes, almost ten." she offered.  "And we can talk after I get there.  I just have to meet a delivery sometime in the next forty, forty-five minutes."

"Cool," her sister-in-law sighed.  "And that means, girls, you can go watch Nickelodeon, okay?  Tell Auntie Heather goodbye, please." 

The two little girls bid their aunt goodbye, Ali tacking on a "Happy Birthday!" that was then parroted by her younger sister.  Heather and Mandy listened as the two struggled to hang up the phone they were sharing, but finally there was a definite cessation of noise and they both knew the girls were no longer on the line.

"So, what are we gonna talk about that you don't want Ali and Hannah hearing?" Heather inquired.

"Nothing specific, really," Mandy countered.  "Well, unless you want to expound upon what it is you're doing when you're on those island beaches with Jake," she teased.  "I probably don't want my kids listening in on that."

"On the beach?" Heather retorted.  "Well, mostly we just lay around in a cabana or under an umbrella."  'Holding hands.  Maybe some kissing,' she added silently.  "And you know, talking and reading spy novels.  And maybe having a drink, something light to eat," she claimed.  "Maybe some other stuff."

"Other food or other stuff, Heth?" her sister-in-law giggled.  "C'mon, I'm an old, married lady with kids.  I like to live vicariously sometimes."

"Buy a romance novel then," Heather suggested, emitting an annoyed sound.  "Because that's all I'm sayin'."

"I bet you're both half-naked, huh?"

"We tend to wear less clothing at the beach than we do most other places," she answered.

"So, I'm taking that as a big, fat 'yes'," Mandy laughed.  "And I bet you help each other with your sunscreen, right?"

Heather allowed a put-upon groan before finally saying, "Jake hardly ever uses sunscreen."  This was somewhat true, though he usually asked her to return the favor after he'd applied sunscreen to her back, and she was always more than happy to oblige.  "I'm pretty sure he's never had a sunburn in his life."

"But you have," Mandy reminded. 

Heather knew they were both recalling the worst sunburn of her life, the summer she had turned fifteen, the first year she'd served as a day camp counselor.  Her duties had included chaperoning the end of session daylong field trip to the lake.  She'd been so concentrated on keeping track of her campers and keeping the sunscreen slathered on each of them, that she had completely forgotten to reapply her own.  The sun had reflected off the lake all day, and she'd been completely wiped out – and had looked it – by the time she'd made it home that evening.  Her mother had sent her straight to bed.  Still, the next morning, Heather had been feverish and nauseous and about as red as a boiled lobster. 

This had been a week before Heather's oldest brother, Andy's wedding, and Renate Lisinski had immediately begun to fret over whether Heather would recover in time to fulfill her obligations as a junior bridesmaid.  Luckily for Heather, Mandy – not yet engaged to Tommy – had heard about her plight and had insisted that they stop by the Lisinski house to check on Heather before they headed to the drive-in for the evening.  The week before she had read an article about the healing powers of tannins found in black tea, and she'd suggested they give it a try.  In the end, Mandy had spent over an hour applying tea bags to Heather's back to help remove the heat, pain, and sting. 

"Uh, yeah, we both know that," Heather grumbled.  "Sometimes I think I could get a sunburn from a lightbulb.  But, hey, that just means I can ask Jake to reapply the sunscreen on my back every hour on the hour, so there's that."

"And I'm sure it's such a chore for him," her sister-in-law teased.  "Probably hates that ten, fifteen minutes he has to take out of every hour to rub sunscreen on you.  All that touching.  Must be awful."

"Hafta say, I don't think he really minds," Heather returned, sounding rather smug. 

"Pretty sure you're right."

"But Mandy, if you still need some vicarious living, you're just gonna hafta buy that romance novel," Heather informed her.  "Or hey, don't live vicariously.  Convince Tommy that he needs to take you to a beach somewhere for your anniversary.  The tenth is a big deal."  Their wedding anniversary was three and a half months away, at the end of September.  "Then you can rub sunscreen on each other."

"I'll be back in school by then," Mandy reminded, sighing deeply.  "For the first time in a decade.  And it's what I want to do – I really wanna do this, Heather, I can't even explain it.  But I'm gonna need to concentrate on the school part of it all.  On just going to class and doing all the reading and writing papers.  It's gonna be a lotta work."

"It's gonna be.  But it's gonna be worth it, too," her sister-in-law encouraged.

"I hope so," Mandy murmured.  They were both silent for a long moment before finally she exhaled a frustrated breath, starting again.  "So, you know Heth… I did tell the girls to go watch Nickelodeon in case maybe I needed to say something – or maybe you needed to say something – and that something was something we didn't want getting back to Tommy."

"So, you need to complain about my brother to me?" Heather questioned rhetorically.  "Okay, go for it."

"I just don't know what's going on with him," Mandy moaned. "With us."

Heather made a sympathetic noise.  "Okay."

"It's like we've hit the 'marriage: finding that special someone you want to irritate for the rest of your life' phase of things.  And we can't stop irritating each other.  Like today," Mandy continued, "I called him at two-forty-five for our daily check-in like always."

"Right," Heather acknowledged.  Tommy had been promoted from producer to on-air host at the sports radio station where he worked the week before Alison had been born. As a result, aside from being present at his daughter's birth, he hadn't been able to take time off to spend with his wife and new baby.  But he'd started to phone Mandy every day at two-forty-five, fifteen minutes before his show started, to get the update on everything their baby girl had done in the three and a half hours since he'd left them. 

"I always thought that was so sweet," she told her sister-in-law.  "Way sweeter than I expected from any of my brothers, let alone Tommy."

"It was – it is sweet.  But now it's more of a habit than anything," Mandy admitted.  "All about logistics.  What am I supposed to do, what's he supposed to do.  Most of the time, he doesn't even say 'I love you'.  I try to.  But half the time he hangs up before I can get it out."

"You know that Tommy loves you, Mandy."

"Loves to tick me off, too," her sister-in-law retorted.  "Like today when we talked, I told him that he should come straight home after work, that I had already gotten the milk that he'd said he'd pick up, because it's your birthday and we needed to call you.  And he told me that he'd already called you and acted like it was no big deal," she complained.  "He actually said, 'Mand, she's my sister' like that meant he could just cut us all out.  So, I was irritated," she declared, "Especially for the girls.  So, we just called you without him."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Heather soothed.  "Mandy, I was glad to hear from Tommy – of course I was – he's my brother.  But you're my sister too, and Ali and Hannah are my nieces, and I love all of you.  Honestly, I was irritated that he called without you.  So, I'm really glad you called."

"Thanks," Mandy murmured.  "And I just – well, it's really important to me that the girls have you as a role model, is all.  Whatever else happens, I want them to know that they can do anything.  And you're the family example of 'can do anything'."

"I don't know about that, " the younger woman protested.  "You're the girls' first and best role model, not me."

"I'm one of their role models, sure," Mandy had agreed.  "But still, I'm always telling the girls when we can't figure something out, that we just need to think like Auntie Heather, and then we'll have the right answer."

"Hardly," Heather retorted.  "I mean, maybe if you're helping Ali with her math homework," she suggested, before joking, "But if you're trying to figure out a recipe and you start thinking like me, you're doomed."

"Well, if it is a math homework issue, we just call you, you know that," Mandy chuckled.  "I'm not torturing my brain with trying to figure out how to explain math to my third grader.  Or passing on my math phobia.  And if it's a cooking problem – no offense – I call my mom or Deb."

"No offense taken!" Heather declared.  "I'd call Deb too.  Or Gail," she added softly.  "My eating habits horrify her, but still.  She taught me how to make her meatloaf last week and we had a lot of fun."

"That's good.  And I highly recommend getting along with your mother-in-law."

"Me too," Heather echoed.  "But Mandy.  What's with 'whatever else happens'? You're kinda freaking me out."

"Well, I'm not saying that, Heather," her sister-in-law grumbled.  "And I'm not saying that I don't love Tommy.  I love him," she repeated.  "But sometimes he can be a real…."

"Irritation?"

"I was gonna say 'jerk'," Mandy confessed before emitting an aggravated groan.  "I'm sorry," she apologized with her next breath.  "I know this is completely not fair to you, especially on your birthday."

"It's okay," Heather comforted her sister-in-law.  "I mean, on Sunday, I was pretty irritated with Tommy myself.  On your behalf.  In fact, I sent him an email telling him to shape up and that he needs to stop being a jerk and find his supportive husband hat.  I think it's really great that you're gonna get your M.S.W., and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," Mandy repeated, exhaling a shaky breath. 

"I told Jake about it too," Heather added, slowing the vehicle so she could turn off Route Nine and onto the Green Ranch Road.  "And he also thinks it's great that you want to make a career out of helping people.   He said Tommy needs to get on board."

"You and Jake agreeing on something, like that's a surprise," Mandy teased.

"We don't agree on everything, you know.  We have lots of 'spirited discussions'," Heather offered, recalling the words she'd used a few nights ago when she had spoken to Jake.  "Trust me, if we agreed on everything, it would not be four months since we were last in the same place."

"Well, that sucks, for sure."

"It really does," Heather muttered.  "But he likes his job, and you know, it's not forever. Probably just another year or two," she confided without elaborating.  They had always said that when they had kids, he'd find something to do "closer to home", and now the terms of his grandfather's will were hanging over him as well, ticking down the five years Gramps had given Jake to make up his mind.

"Really?  So, if he quits his job, what's he gonna do instead?" Mandy wanted to know.

Heather had confided some details of EJ Green's bequest to his son and grandsons to her family, but not everything.  The Lisinskis knew that Gramps had left them the ranch house and a portion of the land, but aside from sharing her delight over having inherited the chickens, she'd been vague about the rest.  "He's got some options – the ranch, and he's still a pilot, so we'll see," she sighed. 

"So, are you two finally gonna have a baby?" Mandy asked, her voice lilting.  "You guys have been married an awful long time, you know.  It's about time – past time."

"You sound like Mikey," Heather protested.  "And we haven't been married that long."

"Four years!  You could've had three kids by now."

"Says the woman who left four years between her kids," Heather retorted.

"More like three and a half years."

"Well, three kids in four years is still crazy, Mandy," her sister-in law complained.  "Maybe three kids in seven or eight years," she suggested.  "Besides, we're doing this – approaching this," she corrected quickly, "The way we always planned.  I got my Master's, I just got the promotion to vice principal, and now we're gonna talk about it.  See what we're ready for." 

Heather frowned to herself.  She wasn't quite ready to talk about their choice to begin trying to have – to make – a baby with any of her family.  The decision was too new.  Too precious and too fledgling to subject to the rough and tumble scrutiny of the Lisinski clan.  Not yet.  She loved them all, but she wasn't ready to share this wonderful new thing with them, particularly her brothers, and she didn't think Mandy would be able to keep this piece of news to herself. 

"'I'm gonna tell you exactly what I told Mikey, like two hours ago," Heather offered.  "When to have kids is something I'm only going to discuss with my husband.  Nobody else gets a vote.  Just him and me.  But the good news is, it's topic number one for Hawaii.  For discussion in Hawaii."

"That's progress at least," Mandy decided.  "But you might want to do a little more than discuss it.  I'd had both my kids before I turned twenty-seven, Heth."

"So, that's official?" the younger woman inquired, more than happy to turn the tables on Mandy and steer the conversation away from her own plans and back to her sister-in-law's.  "You guys aren't gonna go for the third?  You're done?"

"Heather, we've been done since about two days into my twenty-three days of being nine months pregnant with full body hives," Mandy groaned.  "I can't – if I had to do that again, I'd be dead."

"No, I remember," Heather assured her.  Mandy had come down with a truly horrid case of "pregnancy rash" three weeks before Hannah had been born.  Heather herself had been in her last semester of college, including student teaching in an inner-city public school and helping her father care for her mother, who – although they hadn't known it at the time – had been in the last months of life, as her body had stopped tolerating the dialysis that had kept her alive for three years.  Still, Heather had found the time to spend a couple of afternoons with Mandy, trying to keep her from scratching herself raw, trying to keep her spirits up as she'd waited to reach the thirty-seven-week mark at which her doctor had been willing to induce her.  "I get – I get why you wouldn't want to go through that another time."

"As soon as they said it could happen again – well, I just can't," she repeated. "And, yeah, it took your brother a little while longer to come to grips with the fact that he's never gonna get his boy, at least not with me—"

"Mandy!" Heather scolded, "Tommy's not gonna go off – run off with—"

"Well, duh.  I know that," her sister-in-law interrupted.  "And he's certainly not gonna do it now.  He got snipped last year, so you know, that's that." 

"Okay.  Wow. That's news to me.  Good news, but still news."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself, okay?" Mandy requested.  "I know your dad doesn't know.  And I'd bet that Andy and John don't know.  I figured if he was gonna tell anyone, it would be you or Mikey.  But since he didn't, just don't tell him I told you, okay?"

"I won't ever let him know I know," Heather promised, "Though I am going to be secretly proud of him for doing it."

"He really didn't want to," Mandy snorted.  "He even threatened to go to confession and basically throw me under the bus to a priest, but I just told him if he was that concerned about following church teachings so strictly, we could just not have sex for ten or fifteen years since I'm really not open to bringing another child into the world."

"That gave him some perspective, I bet," Heather chuckled. 

"Yeah, pretty much," Mandy mumbled, before taking a deep breath.  "And that's the crazy thing," she said a moment later, exhaling.  "Ultimately he took not getting to have a son better than he's taking me going back to school.  I mean, he's had longer to get used to the idea, I guess.  But still."

"We're all a little stuck in our ways," Heather suggested. "This is maybe, Tommy being a little stuck in his ways," she reasoned.  "Like, you're gonna go meet all these new people…."

"I meet new people all the time through Catholic Charities," she reminded.  "And he was never bothered by that.  Not that he has any reason to be.  Each new family I help just reminds me how lucky I am.  I mean, Tommy may be literally incapable of putting the toilet seat down, but he isn't on drugs, and he's not lookin' at porn twenty-four/seven—"

"I hope he's not looking at porn at all," Heather protested.  "That – that—"

"He's not, Heth, I promise," Mandy interrupted.  "That's what I'm saying.  He's not the husband of the twenty-three-year-old with two kids I helped write her first ever resume last week.  Which is the only reason I even mentioned it.  I've been thinking about her ever since, and how lucky I am by comparison," she repeated.  "Because that's not Tommy.  Yes, he can be inconsiderate.  But he can also be really sweet.  And he's not abusive – not mean.  He's – he's like a saint, compared to all the things I hear about at work."

"Well, that's a relief.  And Saint Tommy of Buffalo?"  Heather joked as she brought the Trailblazer to a stop on the circular driveway in front of the ranch house.  "That really does not compute.  And you do realize that there are things you don't know about my brother.  Just little things," she assured a beat later, realizing belatedly how bad her first statement sounded.  "But still," she continued, putting the car into park, and leaving the engine on so they could continue their conversation over Bluetooth.  "There are things you don't know."

"Well, I know about the whole teaching you to swear for like three minutes straight when you were a kid thing, if that's what you mean," Mandy informed her sister-in-law. 

"Really?  How?"

"When we went to our pre-Cana classes, one of the nights, they just sent us off to talk to one another with a list of questions we could choose from to ask each other.  So, I asked Tommy 'what's the worst thing you've ever done?'  And he told me about that."

"Jeez, that seems like a great pre-marital exercise," Heather grumbled.  "I mean, what do they do if you ask a question, and you don't like the answer and end up calling off the wedding?" 

"Better to call it off before than after, right?" Mandy contended.  "I mean nobody in our class broke off their engagement, and there were, like, ten couples," she estimated.  "And as far as I know there's only been one divorce outta that group."

"Sounds like your class was successful at least," Heather offered absently.  "And you know before we got married, we agreed that I am never allowed to tell Jake Tommy's hundred-fifty-seven words.  That's how many words there were.  Not unique words, but you know, total words."

"So, do you still know all the words or just the count?  Because Tommy was really hoping you'd blocked it out."

"Burned into my brain, actually.  But it wasn't until I was in high school that I wrote it all out and counted.  Then I tore it up, flushed the pieces down the toilet, and went to confession," Heather admitted, groaning. 

"Well, I don't know why he thought you would've blocked it out," Mandy scoffed.  "He told me that whole reason he taught it to you was because you'd helped John memorize something he needed to recite for school, and you ended up doing it better than him when your mom made you both recite it for the whole family?"

"That's true.  I was way better than John," Heather agreed breezily.  "But I like doing that sort of thing."

"And Tommy knows he took advantage of that – of you," his wife sighed.  "He told me that he only tried it because he knew he could get you to do it.  That it would be easy for you to memorize, and he thought it would be funny.  But he always knew it was wrong. Like really wrong.  That's why it was the worst thing he'd ever done."

"I thought it was the same thing.  I should've figured out that it wasn't.  He wanted me to say it for his friends.  That should've clued me in."

"You were eight, right?  That's pretty young," Mandy argued.  "I don't think Ali would realize what was going on.  Not that that will ever happen with her, or Tommy Lisinski is absolutely dead," she threatened.

"Eight and one week.  Which means – actually – next week is the nineteenth anniversary of the incident," Heather realized.  "But I really thought it was just like memorizing The Beatitudes.  But it was nothing like that."

Mandy allowed an annoyed chuckle that quickly gave way to a groan.  "My husband," she mumbled.  "He did not tell me that part."

"I wonder why?" her sister-in-law snorted.  "I'm just glad that when I told Dad I had learned a new speech from Tommy, he didn't call Mom in to hear it, too," she laughed softly. 

"Yeah, you'd just told him Tommy had taught you something.  Of course, he was suspicious."

"Well anyway, Tommy knows I still know it.  After Ali was born – after she was starting to talk, really – he asked me if I remembered that," she explained, "And when I said yes, he told me to never teach them to her because you'd kill him."

"I would," her sister-in-law confirmed emphatically.  "And then that would be the worst thing I'd ever done, and I'd have to confess it.  Plus, I'd end up in jail and the girls would be orphans and that's just too much drama.  So, in the interest of family harmony, please don't tell Ali.  Or Hannah.  Or me, or – apparently – Jake."

"He's afraid he might not be able to kiss me after he heard me say all that."

"I really would've thought that Jake was made of sterner stuff than that," Mandy chuckled, "But okay." 

"He is," Heather declared, "But why risk it, right?"

"Right."

"And just because I know it, doesn't mean I like knowing it," Heather muttered.  "But I guess, blessed are the little sisters whose older brothers teach them all the curse words in the English language – plus a smattering of the French, German and Spanish ones – for they will be able to hold it over said big brothers' heads for the rest of their lives."

"And that's not blasphemous at all," Mandy complained.  "I am technically an employee of the diocese now, Heth.  Also, really glad that my kids didn't hear you say that."

"Sorry," Heather apologized.  "Okay," she announced a moment later, undoing her seatbelt and retrieving her cell phone from the cupholder.  "I'm home, so I'm switching over to just my cell, and it shouldn't drop the call, but if it does, call me right back, okay?"

"I should let you go," Mandy argued as her sister-in-law reached for her keys.  "I said it would just be ten minutes."

"I can't really do anything else until this delivery gets here," Heather countered, "I want to talk to you.  And maybe we can figure out how to get Tommy to see that this is important to you, and that he should support you, and then that would make you less irritated with Tommy."

"Well, he needs to be less annoyed with me," Mandy complained, "That would go a long way to making me not irritated with him."

"Exactly.  So how do we get him to not be annoyed?  And okay, he's not upset about the people you're gonna meet," Heather summarized, "So what is it about you going back to school that irritates or annoys him?"

"That's the problem.  I actually don't think it's the going back to school part that annoys him.  Sure, he's made some noise about how much it's gonna cost—"

"Lisiniskis are cheap sometimes," Heather reminded, holding the cell phone to her ear with her left hand while she turned the car off with her right.

"But not about education," Mandy returned.  "You'll all – we'll all – drive ten- or fifteen-year-old cars and never go on vacation so we can pay for school.  I mean, your mom worked in the office at Saint Mike's all those years, just to get the tuition discount for all of you.  That's not being cheap, that's being really smart." 

"So, do you guys get a tuition discount now, since you’re working for the diocese?"

"Yeah, but your brother was real quick to point out that the discount and what I’m making now still doesn't cover the costs of my master's program," Mandy told her sister-in-law, making a frustrated noise.

"Well, yeah, grad school is expensive, no matter how you do it," Heather agreed quickly.  

Her own master's program had been expensive enough that she'd considered putting it off for a year or two so she could save up, but Jake had argued against that, and then had refused to let her take out loans either.  It had bothered her initially to just go with Jake's plan that they pay for the program with her salary – it had covered her tuition with a little bit left over, though not quite enough for books, materials, and travel costs – and live off his.  But he'd kept reminding her that they were full-assed married, that they didn't even have a rent payment, and that it wasn't his money or her money, but their money because – had he mentioned? – they were full-assed married. 

"I was lucky enough that we were able to pay as I went," Heather confessed then, "That Jake basically supported me the entire time, so everything I made could go to my tuition."  She groaned softly.  "Please don't tell anybody that, especially Tom—"

"Heather," Mandy interrupted, laughing.  "You do realize that everyone knows that, right?  Not the details, but we assumed.  And – I promise you – the thing that would've made Tommy mad is if Jake hadn't supported you.  You guys are married, you're supposed to support each other, and that includes financially."

"Oh," Heather had muttered, feeling suddenly rather silly.  "Right.  Well," she continued a moment later, "Do you want me to remind Tommy about that?  That you're married and you should support each other?" she asked, "Because I will."

"No," Mandy answered.  "Because I really don't think it's about the money."

"You can always remind him that everything Mom made – as little as that was – went straight to tuition, too.  It was important to her, and she would totally approve of what you're doing," Heather declared.  "Dad, too, I'm sure."

"Oh yeah, your dad has been really supportive.  Everybody has.  Deb says she's my kid taxi for as long as I need," Mandy confided.  "'Cause I'm probably going to need some fill in help for that hour, hour and a half between the end of school and when I can pick the girls up."  She paused for a moment, heaving a long sigh.  "My dad really wasn't sure about me marrying Tommy," she murmured.  "But he knew how your parents were about education, so….  You know he and Mom invited your parents and Tommy over for dinner so he could say in front of everyone that as long as I finished college first, we had his blessing.   And your mom and dad were like 'of course' and so scandalized that my parents had thought they'd support anything else.  So, then I got really brave and told Dad – in front of your parents and Tommy – that he was on the Dean's List, which both shocked and impressed him," she laughed quietly.  "Especially since David and I," she said, naming her younger brother, "Never got anywhere near the Dean's list."

"You do know that Tommy was supposed to be the salutatorian when he graduated Saint Mike's," Heather informed her sister-in-law.  "Mom was so mad that he turned it down, but he didn't want to write a speech—"

"Maybe he didn't want to, but he could've," Mandy interjected.  "He was a Communications major, Heth.  And he talks on the radio for twenty hours a week.  He writes all his own copy, and half of Scott's, too.  He could totally write a speech for high school graduation," she concluded the defense of her husband.

"He totally could," Heather echoed.

"You're not supposed to get me to take his side, you know," Mandy huffed, allowing an annoyed chuckle.  "I'm irritated with him, remember?"

"I'm irritated with him, too," his sister claimed.  "I'm on your side.  But it'd be better if you guys were just not irritated with each other, right?  Though if you just want to complain, feel free."

Mandy was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment before she began slowly.  "I – I think, maybe, he's mad that I'm gonna hafta miss some of our breakfasts," she muttered.  "Which… I don't like it either.  But the only way this works with our schedule is I'm gonna have to take early classes.  And he really didn't start acting like this until I told him that part.  I think – I really think he's mad that this is gonna interrupt our breakfasts."

Heather nodded absently, forgetting for a moment that her sister-in-law couldn't see her.  With her brother's work schedule – he left for the radio station at eleven AM and didn't come home most nights until at least eight – Tommy, Mandy and the girls didn't get to eat dinner together during the week.  So, they had turned that on its head, making breakfast their family time together.  "It's only for a couple of years, right?" she offered, "And probably not every day." 

"Exactly.  Three years, and not every day," Mandy summarized.  "I'm doing the part time program so I still have time for everything else.  I hafta be there in the evening for the girls, so I hafta take morning classes so I still have time to work at the family services center in the afternoons.  It's not like I'm overjoyed that I'm gonna have less time to spend with him and the girls, but I really want to do this, and he knows that."

"He knows you want to do this, sure," Heather agreed.  "But does he know that you're just as disappointed that you're gonna lose that time together?"

"Yeah, of course," Mandy returned immediately.  "I mean, I think he does," she backpedaled a beat later.  "How could he not know that?"

"So, maybe just make sure he knows that," Heather advised.  "And then, maybe point out to Tommy that this is his chance for a little 'daddy/daughters' bonding time.  He already goes with you when you take 'em to school, right?"

"Right," Mandy confirmed.  "And he's pretty much the only dad regular at drop off.  It makes him, like, a rock star with the kids and the other moms," she giggled.  "Which he totally eats up.  Honestly, some of those women flirt with him a little too much.  Like Charlene Elkins.  She needs to back off," she grumbled.

"You'd think the fact that Tommy's related to me would be enough for her to back off," Heather declared, clearly annoyed at this news.  Charlene Elkins was cousins with Mark Metzger and she had made it abundantly clear that she did not like Heather.  "What a – well, I don't wanna resort to one of those hundred-fifty-seven words, so I'll stop there."

"You'd think that fact that Tommy's married to me would give her a clue, too. But don't worry.  I can glare and smile at the same time," Mandy assured her sister-in-law, her tone confident.  "I got it under control."

"Good.  And I really think that's how you need to pitch it to him.  It's a short-term trade off, you'll miss getting that time with him, too, but hey, at least he gets one-on-one – or I guess – one-on-two time with the girls on the mornings you have class," Heather offered.  "You already get that time with them when he's at work, so now he gets it too.  And it's not forever."

"I like that," Mandy murmured.  "I really like that.  Thank you, Heather."

"You're welcome," she replied.  "And tell Tommy he better see it our way, or I'll be mad at him, and then who knows what I'll do."  She fake-coughed, saying, "One-hundred-fifty-seven words," before fake-coughing again.

"Well, he'll take that threat seriously for sure," Mandy predicted, laughing.

"As he should!" Heather proclaimed.  "And Jake always says he's gonna hafta drive our kids to school because he's sure they're gonna take after him and want to sleep in 'til the last minute every morning and won't be ready to leave when I have to.  So, feel free to tell Tommy that," she offered.  "You know how he hates to be outdone by Jake."

"And vice versa," Mandy reminded.  "So, you two really are talkin' about having kids.  And he's not gonna be on the other side of the world either," she surmised, "Not if he's planning to drive 'em to school every day.  Good."

"I told you.  We're discussing it," Heather returned somewhat primly.  "And I know he means it – that he's gonna be home.  Jake always says: 'what's the point of having kids if you're not gonna be around for them?'"

"Good," her sister-in-law repeated.  "You know I love you, Heth.  We all love you, and we just want you to be happy."

"I am happy.  I love Jake, and we're happy.  Together.  Married."

"But you'd be happier if you'd been in the same place at some point in the last four months," Mandy said, earning herself a confirmatory sigh.  "Or for all of the last four months."

"I just – I hope he can come home sometime before the end of the year, that's all," Heather confided.

"That'd be nice.  Because you know, in this family – for right or wrong – we think that the best way to be happy is to find someone you love, marry them, live with them, have some kids, and then annoy and/or irritate them for the rest of your lives."

"Your spouse or your kids?" Heather joked in return. 

"Definitely your spouse," Mandy decided.  "Definitely my spouse anyway.  And your kids, at least when they're teenagers.  Mine are still sweet, so I don't try to irritate them.  Still probably embarrass them sometimes."

"I don't think Mom and Dad really irritated each other that much."

"No, you're right," Mandy agreed, "Though every once in a while, your mom would say 'Joseph' in that one tone of voice, and I swear, you could see your dad's ears perk up like a guard dog's or something." 

"Yeah," Heather acknowledged, smiling to herself.  She could picture it easily in her mind.  "But he always knew exactly what he needed to do then," she recalled.  To Heather, an avid observer of all that went on around her, it had always been clear to her that her parents had communicated on multiple levels, with a look or a touch as much as by the words they said to one another.  Certainly, they had known one another's strengths and weaknesses and had worked to fill in and bolster when the other had needed it.

Heather, too, had tried to conduct herself in marriage as much in her parents' mold as she could.  It helped that she and Jake had agreed early on in their relationship that they didn't "slam doors" in each other's faces; that they could tell each other to go away, but that time apart was just to cool off.  And it didn't take them long to cool off.  They were both slow to anger, at least with each other – and they both agreed, too, that hers was the shorter fuse – so when something did blow up between them it tended to take its time building up and then happened in a flash.  But it was always short-lived, if only because they both hated being at odds and they missed one another when they found themselves unable to communicate, even more than they did when they were physically apart.   

"And I don't think Jake and I irritate one another, not that much anyway," she argued.  "I mean, we don't always agree but…."  She trailed off, unsure of how to explain it in a way that her sister-in-law would understand.  "Well, I miss him too much, so I'm not gonna be annoyed with him when we're finally together."

"Just wait 'til he's dodging diaper duty in a year or two.  Then you'll be annoyed, trust me," Mandy predicted.  "You'd be surprised how easy it is to both love someone and hate their guts at the exact same time."

She loved Tommy and Mandy, but sometimes – a lot of the time – Heather couldn't help but think that they were too cavalier with one another.  She wasn't naïve enough to expect that Jake would never hurt her feelings or that she'd never hurt his – and certainly on occasion they had – but sometimes her brother and sister-in-law seemed to go out of their way to cause conflict.  Heather had never purposely hurt her husband, and she was sure he'd never intentionally hurt her.  She could not say the same about her brother and his wife.

Heather also didn't think Jake was likely to – as Mandy had put it – "dodge diaper duty".  He'd said he was in for "the gross stuff" – and diapers seemed to qualify – along with "the fun stuff" and "the boring stuff", and she trusted him on that.  She trusted him to be honest with her, and to know himself.  And she knew him too, and figured that of the three, "the boring stuff" would actually be the hardest part for him.  Gross he could usually handle. 

"Well, I'm not even mentioning that diapers exist until I'm pregnant," Heather vowed.  That, she suspected, was probably very close to how Mandy had approached the topic with Tommy.  "Which is probably not really fair," she realized, "But—"

"'Fair' has nothing to do with it," Mandy interjected.  "You've already put in about a million times more effort than him just getting through childbirth.  So, it's fair.  It's fair even if he changes every diaper, which I promise you, has never happened in the whole history of mankind."

"Tell me how you really feel, Mand," Heather teased, before allowing a long sigh.  "Like I said, we're talking about it.  Nothing is decided," she lied.

"Well, when you guys do finally decide to go for it, I claim the right to host your Buffalo baby shower," Mandy declared.  "Though I promise to recruit Deb to help me with food.  But I'll clean my house and invite everybody, find something for Tommy to do for the day.  Unless maybe you want a Jack and Jill baby shower?  Or a Jake and Jill shower, if you prefer," she giggled.  "I've never been to a co-ed shower, but it might be fun."

"I dunno, Mandy," Heather replied.  "I can't really picture my brothers – or my husband – at my baby shower, but …."  She was sure that Jake would accompany her to Buffalo so she could attend a baby shower there – and she was just as sure that he'd rather gnaw off his own arm than attend any baby shower, even one thrown in their child's honor.  "Maybe we should find something for all the guys to do together where no one can get hurt," she tried to joke, though really, it just made her think about the end of her last conversation with Jake, and she found herself frowning. 

"If we go co-ed, I'll definitely get Kerry to plan the games," Mandy decided, obviously not having heard a word her sister-in-law had said.

"How about we go traditional, and you still get Kerry to plan the games," Heather argued.  "That sort of thing is her forte.  And you know, slow your roll, okay?  There's no baby to throw a shower for yet.  So, don't jinx it."

"Fine," Mandy returned, her breath huffing slightly.  "We're not jinxing it.  But I still bet that sometime in the next six to eighteen months, I'm gonna be throwing you a shower."

"Okay," Heather sighed.  "Thanks, Mandy."

"And hey!  You went home," her sister-in-law remembered.  "You are still going to dinner with April and Gail, right?"  On their family conference call on Sunday, Joe had asked Heather about her plans for her actual birthday.  April had jumped in then, assuring the Buffalo contingent that all was under control, even alluding to a few surprises that Heather might be unaware of.  "You can't just sit home alone on your birthday, Heth.  It's not right."

"We live eight miles outside town, not eighty," Heather protested.  "It's a ten-minute drive.  I need to meet this delivery and then take a shower.  It was Field Day today, and I'm hot and sweaty, and dressed in shorts and a Jericho Jackalopes polo shirt," she cataloged.  "I'm not going out to dinner on my birthday like that."

"Okay, that's good," Mandy agreed, emitting a relieved sound.  "But, uh – and I know you all think of me as the ditz of the family—"

"Mandy, you're not a ditz," Heather contradicted.  "Don't say that about yourself.  It's not right."

"Well, sometimes I am," she grumbled in return.  "But that's okay, because that means I get to ask questions, and sometimes my questions are the things everyone else is wondering about.  And sometimes not."

"I ask questions too.  Nobody calls me a ditz.  Or at least," Heather frowned again, "I don't think they call me a ditz."

"Nobody calls you a ditz," Mandy told her.  "Sometimes a nerd, but it's said with admiration.  Me, they just call a ditz, no admiration."

"Well, you're not a ditz," Heather countered stubbornly.  "And I prefer the term 'geek'."

"Right.  Sorry about that," Mandy apologized, adding a half second later, "So, can I ask my question?"

"Of course.  Shoot."

"So, the jackalope – is it a real animal or something made up?" her sister-in-law inquired.  "I mean, I know we've talked about this before, but …."

"Oh," Heather responded.  She certainly hadn't expected that question, even from Mandy.  "Uh.  Totally made up."

"Okay.   Then why is a made-up animal the mascot of your school?  And why did you send my kids a jackalope postcard a couple of months ago?"

"Well, to answer your second question first, I sent all the kids jackalope postcards, even Joey and Megan.  I like to send the kids fun and funny postcards," Heather reminded.  She worked hard to maintain a relationship with her nieces and nephews, and while she didn't regret moving to Kansas or falling in love with and marrying Jake, she knew that the biggest tradeoff was the chance to be an involved aunt.  It wasn't exactly easy, but she managed to keep up with her father, brothers and sisters-in-law by phone and email, but with the kids it was a lot harder.  She didn't have that physical presence – weekly or more often – in their lives, so she did things like send them postcards and manila envelopes full of pictures (accompanied by little stories) of things happening at Jericho Elementary and on the ranch.  Heather had even sent her eldest niece, Rebekah, a digital camera for her tenth birthday the previous October, and now she occasionally got pictures of hockey practice and the goings-on at her elementary alma mater, All Saints Catholic School, in return.   

"Just before he left for Afghanistan, Jake needed to go to the truck stop to pick some things up, and I went along with him for dinner.  And they have a tacky little gift shop, including a postcard rack, and I grabbed some jackalope postcards for the kids," she explained.

"You guys go to truck stops?  And why do they have postcards of fake animals?" Mandy wanted to know.

"We don't go to a lot of truck stops, just the one that's near us, and a couple others between here and Lawrence when I was going to my master's classes.  It's quick and the food is good," Heather offered, claiming with her next breath, "Truck stops aren't just for truckers."  It was true that Jake had needed to go to the truck stop to buy a few things he needed to pose as a truck driver, but they had stopped in at the truck stop at least every couple of months to eat, ever since he'd first taken her there ahead of their picnic at Bass Lake.  In fact – in the name of tradition – they always went by the truck stop whenever they were coming or going from Bass Lake for any reason. 

"They're like the travel plazas on the Thruway," Heather continued.  "Places for a pit stop on a long drive.  Travelers and locals use truck stops just like the truckers do.  There're restrooms and a restaurant – honestly the best diner anywhere near here.  And also, our truck stop has a tacky little gift shop area.  But I think most of them do."

"So, they really are like the travel plazas on the Thruway," Mandy decided.

"Totally.  And what else are you gonna put in a tacky little gift shop?  Jackalope postcards."  There had also been a rack of bumper stickers, and she'd spotted one that said: 'If I'd Known Grandchildren Were This Much Fun, I Would Have Had Them First'.  On impulse, she'd purchased three of them, thinking it would be a fun way, sometime in the future, to inform Gail and Johnston that they were going to be grandparents – and her dad that he would be a grandfather again.   

 

* * *

 

She had only bothered to check out the gift shop section of the travel store because Jake had needed to try on boots, and he'd assured her that she didn't need to be there for that.  "Go take a look at the books," he'd suggested.  "I know how to buy boots by myself, okay?"

"We're trying to spend time together before you're gone, remember?" she'd reminded him.  "I will have no opinion on your boots because I really don't.  They're boots for work.  Work boots.  You know what you need.  I just wanna hang out with you." 

Heather hadn't bothered to tell him that she'd been checking out the truck stop's one spinning rack of paperback novels a few times a year for going on four years by then, and she was sure the selection hadn't changed.  The rack might have been restocked after the occasional purchase, but it was still mostly a collection of the same old western fiction and detective stories with a smattering of V.C. Andrews titles that had only served to remind Heather of how embarrassed she'd been during her first year in high school to have been sent to Sister Patricia's office when, digging through her bookbag heading into chapel, she'd produced her cousin Jessica's copy of My Sweet Audrina instead of her devotional.

"Babe—"

"Jake," she'd retorted. 

"We've been spending time together," he'd argued.  Which was true.  Jake had interviewed at Ravenwood corporate headquarters in Boulder on December fifteenth and then had driven straight home.  He'd received a phone call with a job offer the next day, accepting right away with – particularly for him – a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.  After apologizing to Tony for sticking him with the rest of the day's work, Jake had headed back up to the house to email Gretchen with the update and to wait for Heather to get home from school so he could break the news to her.  They had spent every day together – and gone to sleep next to one another every night – since.  It had been one of the longer continuous stretches of togetherness – more than six weeks – of their marriage up to that point. 

 

She’d even accompanied Jake to Denver for three days when he’d gone to clean out his studio apartment – his crash pad, he’d always called it – the first week of January.  It didn't make sense, he'd argued, to keep paying a thousand dollars in rent each month on a place that he'd spent – maybe – thirty nights at the previous year.  "And once I'm back from this assignment, who knows what I'll be doing," he'd reminded when he'd asked her if she'd wanted to come along. "For now, I'll just stay in a hotel if I hafta be in Denver." 

"You’re giving up the last vestiges of your bachelorhood," she’d teased him, surveying the space and beginning to make a mental shopping list of the cleaning supplies they had needed to purchase forthwith.  Heather had stayed with Jake at the apartment on the rare occasions when she'd joined him in Denver for a few days, and it had always given her a weird, stepping-back-in-time sort of feeling.  She hadn't been sorry to see it go.  "Sure you're ready for that?"

"Full-assed married, Babe," he'd retorted, grinning at her as he'd closed the apartment's door and then had backed her into it so he could kiss her rather thoroughly.  "Don't need any vestiges of bachelorhood," he'd sworn then, kissing the tip of her nose.  "Haven't been a bachelor in a long time, and married-hood is way better anyway."

 

"We're gonna keep spending time together, until I hafta leave," he'd promised.  "But seriously.  How is watching me try on shoes different from watching paint dry?"

"Probably not much," his wife had agreed.  "But if for some reason you had to watch paint dry, I'd be happy to watch it with you.  So, there's that."

Jake had looked around the small clothing section for the lone attendant who'd gone to retrieve boots for him to try on, and deciding that they were alone enough, had pulled her toward him, brushing her lips with his own.  "As soon as it's my job to watch paint dry, I'm definitely quitting," he muttered against her mouth.  He'd deepened their kiss for a moment, but then – spotting the attendant out of the corner of his eye – he'd reluctantly pulled away.  "You could pick me out somethin' to read on the plane," Jake had suggested, reminding, 'It's, like, thirty hours in the air and in airports to get there."

"Trust me, you don't want a book from that book rack," Heather had told him, frowning gently.  "And I've got a stack of books that you'd like but haven't read yet at home.  You can take 'em all if you want."  She'd stepped out of the way so that the attendant could deposit the four large boxes of boots she'd carried on the floor next to the single chair that demarcated the shoe section from the rest of the clothing department. 

"Well, I can at least pay for all of this if that'd help," she'd offered, pointing at the pile of jeans, T-shirts, and trucker's hats (one with an embroidered horse patch sewn on it, the other printed with the slogan 'Kansas, Flatter Than a Pancake') that Jake had already selected.  This clothing had been sitting on top of a tool kit in a hard, black plastic case that, along with the boots, had been Jake's main objective.  He'd already explained to her that while he wouldn't be responsible for maintaining his own rig on this assignment, only an idiot drove without his own tools, especially into potentially hostile territory.

"Nah, Babe, it's okay," Jake had waved her off as she'd reached for his hats.  "I need to pay for all this with a specific card."

"Right," she'd acknowledged, her tone a little more clipped than she'd intended.  "Sorry," she had apologized, emitting a soft sigh.  "Well then, I'm gonna go look at postcards to send to the nieces and nephews," she'd decided, warning, "But you hafta sign 'em too, okay?"

"You got it.  'Love Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake'," he'd promised.  "And I'll meet you at the restaurant in, like, fifteen minutes."

Heather had been at the restaurant's counter chatting with Annie Turner when Jake had sidled up beside her twelve minutes later.  "Hey, Babe," he'd greeted, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before glancing at the other woman.  "Hey, Annie.  How's it goin'?"

Although Annie had put some distance between herself and Dale and the Greens in recent years, she was usually polite enough to Jake and Heather whenever they showed up at the truck stop, if only because she knew that Jake would leave her a generous tip.  She'd returned his smile.  "Hi Jake," she'd declared, "I was just sayin', it's been a while since I've seen you two in here."

He'd shrugged.  "Well, Heather doesn't hafta go to Lawrence every other week anymore, so we're not gettin' back to town at nine-thirty on Saturday night, starving," he'd told her.  "And, this last year, what I've been workin' on, my schedule's been weird."

"And now you're clothes shopping at the truck stop," Annie had guessed pointing at the giant plastic bag he'd carried in one hand.  (He'd had a grip on the tool case with the other.)

"More work stuff," he'd said, keeping his tone light, almost bored.  "My next assignment's even weirder.  So, speaking of starving, I'm starving," Jake had continued not missing a beat and – more importantly – cutting off the question he could see forming in Annie's expression.  "You, Babe?" he'd asked, turning his head to catch his wife's eye.

"Also starving," Heather had confirmed cheerfully.  "I could eat a horse.  Except.  Ew!  I would never, ever actually eat a horse," she'd declared, grimacing.  "I like horses."

"I also draw the line at horse meat," Jake told her.  "Horses are for riding, not for eating."

Annie had made a face.  "That's definitely not on the menu," she'd informed them, reaching for a pair of menus in the rack at the end of the counter before pausing and shaking her head.  "What am I doing?  You probably don't need these, right?" 

Heather had glanced at her husband, taking the smirk he'd thrown her way as confirmation.  "No, I think we know what we want," she'd giggled.

"Right," Annie had chuckled.  "Well, follow me."  She'd led them to the back of the restaurant where there were generally fewer patrons and where the booths were bigger.  Quickly she pulled a couple of sets of silverware off a table a few feet away from the booth she'd pointed them to.  "You can leave your purchases here, or in the booth with you, whatever works."

Jake had shoved first the plastic bag, then the tool kit into the corner on one side of the booth.  "This works, Annie, thanks."  He'd stayed standing while Heather had seated herself and then had settled into the booth, next to his purchases, facing her.

"Sure.  So, two cheeseburgers with fries—"

"You can just bring a plate of fries, if that's easier," Heather had told her.

"Giant heap of fries, got it," Annie had confirmed, noting this on her order pad.  "And two chocolate shakes."

"And if you want Jake to love you forever, you might wanna sneak a giant spoonful of peanut butter into his shake," his wife had advised the other woman.

"Tryin' to get rid of me, Babe?" Jake had questioned, their gazes locking.  "Because I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to love you forever, and just be good friends with everybody else."

"Well, that's true," she'd smiled, reaching across the table to tangle their fingers together.

"But if you can do that thing with the peanut butter," he'd continued, looking up at their waitress, "That'd be great."

"It's not on the menu, but I can make it happen," Annie had promised.  "Same for you, Heather?"

"Oh yeah," she'd answered, though her eyes had been fixed on her husband.  "Food of the gods, for sure."

"I'll get this right in," Annie had said before heading toward the kitchen, leaving them alone with their nearest neighbors five booths away.

Heather had squeezed his fingers – to make sure she had his attention, he'd guessed – before chuckling, "Thank you for reminding her of my name."

"Yeah," he'd snorted, rolling his eyes.  "When she said 'I was just saying' instead of 'I just said to Heather'… I figured she'd forgotten again.  Sorry about that."

"Who cares?" his wife had asked rhetorically, shrugging off the slight.  "I just know it's important to your mom that we maintain good relations with Annie, for Dale's sake if nothing else.  So that's what I'm gonna do."

"Well, thanks for that," he'd murmured.  "And thanks for the peanut butter mix-in suggestion.  How the hell did I never think of that before?"

"You're goin' to Afghanistan, Jake," she'd grumbled, her tone and expression suddenly pensive.  "I figure the least I can do is make sure you get to eat all your favorite things before you go."

"You've known about this for six weeks, Heather," he'd reminded.  "Seven, really.  We talked about this—"

"I know.  But now it's a week away—"

"Ten days," he'd corrected quietly, trapping her hand between both of his when she'd tried to withdraw it.  He'd raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her wrist.  "We've still got ten days, Babe."

"Ow."

"Sorry," Jake had muttered, relinquishing her hand.  "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," she'd dismissed, shaking her hand as if to rid it of the discomfort he'd inadvertently caused her.  "It just – it hasn't really been real," she'd admitted, planting her hand flat on the table, flexing her fingers for a moment.  "Before now.  Before you had to buy specialty boots."

"They're not that special.  They're just – they're for safety.  I like havin' all my toes."  He'd reached across the table, offering his hand to her.  "Here.  You can twist my arm."

Heather had rolled her eyes at that, but still she'd accepted his hand, cradling it in hers.  "I don't wanna twist your arm, Jake.  And you should have all your toes.  I mean, I'd still love you if you didn't, but I'm all for safety and having all your digits." 

"Thanks, Babe," he'd murmured.

She'd taken a deep breath and then let it out.  "I don't know.  I don't know what it is, exactly," she'd said finally, "But I watch the news and…."    

"Well, maybe don't watch the news for a while," he'd suggested.

"Have you met me, Hon?" Heather had asked, chuckling uncomfortably.

"So, don't watch those parts of the news," Jake had amended.  "Afghanistan's not bad these days," he'd continued, trying to sound reassuring.  "And I'm gonna be on the corporate compound or drivin' my route – routes.  That's it.  Head down.  Doin' a job."

"Doing two jobs, you mean."

"Yeah," he'd agreed.  "But head down, doing my job.  That goes for me and the other Jake Green."

"'The other Jake Green'," she'd repeated, letting the words roll around in her mouth, trying them out. 

"This lets us stay in contact, Heather," he'd reminded.  "It's the only way I'd do it, and you—"

"I agreed," she had completed for him.  "I know.  And I can't go two months without talking to you.  I hafta at least know you're okay, Jake.  I'll go crazy otherwise."

"Me too, Babe."  They had faced one another, both silent.  Heather had started to worry her lower lip, which had been enough to prompt Jake to find his voice.  "I don't hafta go.  I can still pull the plug.  Just give me the word."

"I'm not asking you to do that," she'd complained.  "How much work have you done for this thing?  Have other people done?  Those guys I'd never seen before who dropped off that package this morning?" she'd argued, though the truth was she'd only ever had contact with a handful of Jake's coworkers and had actually met – in person – fewer than that.  "Where're they from?  Denver?  Wichita?"

"Denver," he'd confirmed.  "Gretchen sent 'em." 

"With a 'specific card' for you to use?" she'd asked.  He'd only floated going to the truck stop for dinner at three that afternoon, telling her that he had an errand to run and they might as well get something to eat out of it.

 

They had made a whirlwind trip to Buffalo the previous weekend – Heather taking a rare day off from teaching school – to be present as Megan's godparents at her baptism.  Kerry had invited all the Greens, and while April and Eric had sent a gift with their regrets, Gail and Johnston had decided to tag along.  Saturday had been both the baptism and Jake's birthday, and while her family and his parents had made a point of celebrating Jake along with Megan – including multiple rounds of singing the Birthday Song to him during the large, open house reception her brother and sister-in-law had thrown in honor of their daughter – Heather had known that it hadn't exactly been his preferred way to spend his birthday. 

"Today's your make-up birthday," she'd told him that morning, trying to convince him to sleep in with her.  He'd indulged her for an hour or so, but then had pulled himself out of bed, declaring that it was time for pancakes.  "No!  Don't go," she'd pouted playfully, surprising him when she'd followed him into their closet where he'd gone to find clothes.

"Go back to bed, Babe.  I'll bring you your pancakes," Jake had proposed, looking back over his shoulder at her as he'd zipped up his jeans. "Seriously.  I'm offering you breakfast in bed…" he'd tempted her.

"Uh uh," Heather had denied again.  She'd moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself into his back.  "I'm coming with you," she'd insisted, her lips skimming his shoulder blade while her fingers had played lightly over his stomach.  "But I'm just gonna watch you make me pancakes," she'd informed him, her voice full of flirtatious promise. 

He'd twisted around to face her, trapping her in a loose embrace.  Recognizing the desire that had lit his eyes, Heather had smiled in return before burrowing her face against his neck and shoulder.  She'd kissed the tender skin she'd found there, slowly working her way up to his earlobe, nipping at it, and pulling a groan from her husband.  "Babe…."

Too soon, she'd pulled away just enough that she could brush her mouth across his lips, breathing, "You still get to do all the work."  She'd taken a half-step back, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed against hers.  "Even if today's your make-up birthday."

A vehicle had arrived outside about forty minutes later, the noise of a car horn shattering the peaceful feeling that had enveloped the ranch on this sleepy, January Saturday morning.  Heather had been refreshing her coffee and had moved to look out the window over the kitchen sink, curious to see what had been going on.  An obviously government issue sedan had been parked on the driveway behind Jake's truck and two young men (younger than her, she'd thought), both dressed in suits, had been standing next to it, waiting expectantly.  "Jake," she'd prompted, looking over her shoulder at him, "I think you have visitors."

Standing at the stove, his back to her, Jake had nodded.  "Yeah.  I knew they'd be here sometime this morning," he'd admitted, flipping his third pancake onto a plate before turning off the flame beneath the griddle.  He'd crossed the kitchen, meeting her just as she'd reseated herself at the table.  "Here," he'd said, depositing the pancake on her plate and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  "You're gonna hafta eat this one for me."

"I've already had three."

"You love pancakes," he'd countered, just as one of his visitors had honked the horn for a second time.  "I've still got batter, I'll eat," he'd promised. "But you should eat that one while it's hot.  I'll be back.  Ten minutes, tops."

 

"Yeah, they brought the credit card," he'd confirmed, drumming his finger on the edge of the table twice before reaching across the booth for her hand.  "Plus, some other things," he'd continued, lacing their fingers together.  "Brought back your laptop.  All souped up." 

Heather had nodded.  She'd been waiting in the entry for him when he'd come back inside and had watched as he'd ducked into the study to deposit a large, padlocked document pouch and a laptop bag on the desk.  He'd closed the door behind him and had held out his hand to her, pulling her in for a kiss before suggesting that they go finish their breakfast. 

"It's your laptop now, Hon."

"Nah, still just a loan, I swear," he'd contradicted.  "Soon as this job is over, I'm givin' it back."

"Just make sure you come back when this job is over," she'd instructed him.  "That's the important part.  I can live without the laptop; I can't live without you."

"I will," he'd promised, "'Cause I can't live without you either."

She'd squeezed his hand before finally letting it go, prompting, "So, they brought you a credit card for the other Jake Green."

"Yeah," he'd confirmed. "So, uh, the other Jake and his wife, they've pretty much maxed out all their other credit cards, so he got this new one so he could get the things he needed for the job.  That's the story we're building anyway."  He waited a beat before adding, "And he's buyin' dinner tonight, too."

"Should you really do that?" Heather had frowned.

"It's fine, Babe.  It makes everything look real.  Right now," he'd reminded, gesturing at the restaurant around them with his free hand, "We're just as close to New Bern as we are to home, so it makes sense that he'd come here." 

"It does?  How?"  She'd let go of his hand then, holding up her own to gesture 'stop'.  She had closed her eyes.  "If you can't tell me, just tell me you can't tell me."

"You need to know this stuff, Heather.  For later when I'm there and we need to talk.  When we want to talk," he'd corrected himself immediately.  "Every day, when we talk – so we can talk – you need to know the basic outline of the story," he'd paused for a half-second.  "I just – I thought maybe we could have another day or two before we had to get into this."

She had nodded. "Okay.  Makes sense.  So, you know, let me know when you're ready to let me know what I need to know."

"Lotta 'knows' in that sentence, Babe," he'd observed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand.  Jake had raised himself slightly in his seat, glancing around the restaurant, reconfirming that none of the other diners were within hearing distance.  "So, you need to gimme some warning when Annie's headed back this way, okay?" he'd requested.

"Okay."

"He needs to look financially strapped," he'd begun slowly.  "Livin' right on the financial edge.  'Cause someone who's afraid of losing the ranch to foreclosure is someone who's desperate, and someone who's desperate is happy to do anything they can to earn money, whether or not it's strictly legal."

Jake had studied his wife as she'd absorbed this information.  It had been obvious to him that she'd been trying to determine which of her many questions to ask first.  He'd reached across the table for her hand again, holding it in his own and offering her an encouraging smile.

"That's not entrapment?"

"No," he'd snorted, wondering for about two seconds why he'd been surprised by this particular question.  "I'm – my job is to document what's already going on that shouldn't be goin' on."  She'd known that much about his job already – and more – even though they hardly ever talked about it, and never in detail.  "Look.  Entrapment is inducing someone to commit a crime so you can prosecute them for it.  I don't do that.  I'm just there and if someone gets me to help them do something illegal that they were already doing…" he'd shrugged.  "It's not entrapment."

"Okay," she'd said, shaking her head.  She'd understood the – the darker side of his job, she'd decided then, since their first date.  And she'd been at the Prowse trial, which had served to kill any remaining illusions she might have had.  But there were times that Heather still couldn't quite believe that this was what the man she'd married did in his professional life.  "Right."

"Heather," he'd frowned.  "There's – there's just a lotta bad stuff goin' on with this company," he'd told her, frustration and worry blending in his voice.  "We just need to be able to prove it, and this is how we do that.  It's – it's important, Babe.  I swear."

"I get it, Jake," she'd nodded.  "I just—"

"And you don't hafta worry about that part.  The—"

"Jake!" she'd protested, "I'm gonna worry!"

"I know, Babe," he'd soothed, "That's why we're gonna be in contact, okay?  And you don't need to worry about what I'm doing every minute," he'd insisted.  "Because we're gonna call, and email, and you're gonna know I'm okay.  I'm gonna know you're okay.  So then, all you need to know is the cover story."

"Right," she had agreed, exhaling forcefully.  "Okay.  Back to the cover story.  So, the other Jake Green lives in New Bern?  On a ranch?" she'd added, sounding very skeptical about that.  The town of New Bern was an unlucky strip of rust belt surrounded by much more productive farmland – the wheat and corn belts, and a bit of the cattle belt – on all sides. 

"Not exactly in New Bern," he'd returned.  "So outside of town, kinda southeast."  There wasn't a "Green Ranch" in that area, but there was a mid-sized farm – owned by a Florida LLC – that abutted a tract of land named "Green's Corner".  Arranging to use the farm as his supposed address had just been a matter of executing a rather odd lease agreement.  "But his wife is a teacher in New Bern."

"So, I get to still be a teacher.  That's good."

"I'm always married to a teacher," Jake had told her, "Even when I have a completely different name and background.  It makes it easier to remember things.  When the people I'm dealing with ask me about my wife, I can talk about what an amazing teacher she is, how lucky her kids are.  It just makes it easier," he'd repeated, "When I can stick close to the truth.  And that's a truth I like stickin' to."

That had at least drawn a smile from her.  "So, what's my name?  Who's the other Jake Green married to?"

"Heather.  You're Heather," he'd reminded.  "The whole reason I'm goin' in as Jake Green is so we can be in contact, and you can be you."

"Okay," she'd nodded.  "So, what's my last name?"

"Last I checked, it was Green," Jake had grumbled.

"So, the other Jake Green married Heather Lisinski, just like you did."

"Oh," he'd returned, finally understanding what she'd been getting at.  "Almost.  He married Heather Lind."

"'Lind', huh?" Heather had repeated, chuckling softly.  "That's what Annie thought my name was the first time we met.  'Miss Lind'," she'd reminded him.  "If you hadn't made sure to tell her my name this time, she'd've probably gone home tonight and told Dale that 'Jake and Linda' came into the truck stop tonight."

"Probably," he'd agreed, squeezing her hand.  "But he always calls you 'Mrs. Green' anyway."

"I know," she'd agreed, "But he at least knows what my name is."

"And you don't care what Annie Turner can remember, remember?" he'd joked, laughing quietly at the face she'd made.

"I, like, ninety-eight percent don't care," she had claimed, "But there's about two percent of me that's annoyed."

"Well, I'm a hundred percent – a thousand percent – annoyed by it," Jake had offered.  "You're the most memorable person I know, Babe."

"You're a little biased, Hon, but thank you.  And I love you, too."

"Love you, too," he'd echoed before declaring, "Love you more," and earning himself another smile.

"Not actually possible, but okay," she'd teased before squaring her shoulders and launching back into their discussion.  "So, I'm guessing that because of the other Jake Green's financial difficulties, he can't really be married to Heather Lisinski because then it'd be harder for credit reporting and all that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, pretty much," he'd acknowledged.  "They had to give me – give us both – completely different social security numbers.  There is one really shitty credit report out there for the other Jake and Heather Green.  You don't want to be connected with that."

"Probably not," she had agreed.

"And you know, it's…."  He'd paused, not really believing he'd been about to admit this part.  "There needs to be some sort of separation between our life – our real life – and my cover story.  We need uh, like an air gap.  Because I need – I need you to be … not so easy to find," he'd decided finally.  His words had hung between them heavily and he'd watched as his wife's grin had drooped, transforming into a frown.  "We need to be able to communicate.  I hafta be able to talk to you.  But I need you to be safe, too.  It's a balancing act, and 'Lind' is how we make that happen."

"Okay," she'd acknowledged, a hesitant hitch in her voice.  It hadn't been that she hadn't known that, but Jake didn't usually go out of his way to talk about these things.  It had hit Heather again how unusual – and dangerous – this whole situation was.

"So, you know, I picked 'Lind' because I remembered Annie saying it that time," he'd told her, hoping that would be enough to distract her from the fact that there was no air gap for him.  Sure, he had a different SSN, a different driver's license and passport, even – technically – a different name.  But he still had to physically show up.  "Mellie was helping me and she looked it up in some Census database.  Turns out, there's only like two hundred and fifty Lisinskis in the U.S.  Or maybe that's families?  But still, really small, and she freaked out about it.  Me too."

"It's households," Heather had corrected.  "And I'm directly related to at least ten of 'em.  Indirectly?  Probably all of them," she'd decided, her forehead creasing as she'd considered this new data.  "And maybe Mellie looked it up in a Census Bureau database, but it's also public information.  They publish a list of all the surnames in the country by frequency of occurrence," she'd explained.  "'Smith' – of course – occurs the most often, and 'Lisinski' is, like, the seventy-seven-thousandth most common name in the last census.  So, there really aren't that many of us." 

"And you just know all about this."

Heather had offered him a wry smile.  "I stumbled across it on the internet a while back," she'd shrugged, "And it was interesting to me.  One of my favorite government datasets."

"Babe," Jake had begun, laughing softly and leaning in over the table so he could safely brush a kiss across her knuckles.  "I love you and I adore you," he'd declared.  "But the fact that you apparently have multiple favorite government datasets has got to be the geekiest thing you've said to me in at least the last year."

She'd grinned in return, giggling.  "You adore me, huh?  I don't usually get you to admit that."

"Well, I do.  Even if you can't pick your favorite source of government data," he'd snickered.  "Or probably because you can't pick your favorite source of government data."

"Yeah, well, the USGS Geographic Names database is also really cool.  Makes it really hard to pick."

"Right," he'd acknowledged, still chuckling.  "I bet Mellie uses that one, too.  So," he'd continued, sitting back, "Where does 'Green' fall between 'Smith' and 'Lisinski'?"  He'd still been trying to distract her and had known that there was no way she hadn't looked that up specifically.

"Way closer to 'Smith'.  It's thirty-fourth," she'd answered immediately, confirming his assumption.  "Or thirty-seventh.  Something like that.  Definitely in the top forty most common surnames.  There's like four hundred thousand US households headed by someone with the last name of 'Green' per the two thousand census."

"Well, 'Lind' is also pretty high in rank.  Not that high, I don't think, but high enough that Mellie stopped hyperventilating.  So did I," he'd admitted.

"I will resist the urge to look up how many people have the last name 'Lind' in the United States when we get home," she'd promised.  "Okay?"

"And I'll try to remember to tell Mellie to email you the answer," he'd offered.

"Thanks," Heather had murmured.  "Well, I guess since I'm now 'Heather Lind Green' I'm no longer half Polish," she'd reasoned, frowning at the thought.  "Did you also make me an only child?"

"Hey!" he'd cajoled, jiggling her hand and arm, "You can still be half Polish, half German," he'd assured her.  He knew how important her family heritage was to his wife – how much time she'd invested in learning about where she'd come from – and then, more recently, where he'd come from – and there had been no way he'd have taken that away from her, even for a cover story that they'd be able to put behind them in a few months.  "Maybe, just for this story, it's your dad who's German.  Or maybe it's an Ellis Island name change, okay?"

"Okay," she'd nodded, deciding, "Ellis Island name change."

"And you're not an only child.  The only difference is your family's name," he'd assured her.  "You can still talk to me about your brothers.  And you hafta give me updates on Megan.  I know you're the one who's her sponsor and who has to cover all the Catholic stuff, but I made promises too.  And I liked what the priest—"

"Father Bouchard," Heather had supplied.

"Right.  I liked what Father Bouchard said about how we're the people who can support her, and who she can turn to when she feels like she can't talk to her own parents.  That we're supposed to give her 'safe haven'.  I think – everybody should have that somewhere."

"She can't talk yet, Jake," she'd reminded.  "And you're gonna be back before she learns to," she'd sighed.  "You better be, anyway.  But yeah, I liked that too.  That we can be another set of adults that she can turn to her whole life."

"Exactly.  So, you hafta give me updates on Megan, and on everybody else, okay?  Your family is your family," he'd insisted.  "They're just Linds instead of Lisinskis.  And that's just for this assignment."

"I can do that."  She had fallen silent for a few seconds but still had held his gaze with her own.  Finally, she'd asked, "So, is this just a different maiden name and a different social security number, or are there other 'different' things I need to know?"

"Well, you need to know that we got married in Buffalo—"

"Really?"

"The one in Kansas," he'd clarified.  "And the other us – the other Heather and Jake – their anniversary is a week later, so July twentieth.  That's just makes it…."  He'd trailed off, not quite sure how to explain it without putting some new thought in her head that he really hadn't wanted her contemplating.

"Makes it more 'air gapped'," she'd supplied for him, "In case someone does a public records search or something."  He had nodded.  "Did we at least meet the same?"

"Definitely.  I stopped to help the prettiest girl I'd ever seen change a tire and knew pretty much right away that my life would never be the same," he'd grinned.  "That's definitely part of the story."

"That's not exactly how it happened, but okay, we can go with that," Heather had laughed.  "Did you propose the same?"

"Yes and no," Jake had decided after a moment's hesitation.  "I still proposed on the water tower, on New Years' Day—"

"In the snow," she'd added helpfully.

"Right.  In the snow," he'd confirmed.  "But I think we can lose the first proposal where I was stupid and said, 'we should just get married'."

Heather hadn't liked that.  "Uh uh, no way."

"No way?  But that – that just made you sad.  Or mad.  Made you want to leave anyway," he'd muttered.  "You hated that.  Probably hated me right then."

"I never hated you," she had replied, shaking her head softly.  "I always love you.  And I even wanted to say 'yes'.  Just not when you say we should get married two minutes after Gramps yelled at you for 'taking me to bed'.  Especially since you hadn't."

"Well, I mean, technically," he'd shrugged, the tiniest of smirks quirking his lips.  "And then, twelve hours later, you took me to bed."

The lighting in the restaurant had never been great, but still he'd seen the rosy blush that had suffused her cheeks.  "More like thirteen hours," she'd insisted.

"I stand corrected," he'd teased, his smirk growing.  "Thirteen hours later."

"Exactly," his wife had confirmed, reaching for his hand, and lacing their fingers together.  "And you do realize, under pretty much any other circumstances, all you ever had to do was say 'we should get married' and I would have said yes," she'd sighed.  "I mean, I'm glad we got the water tower.  But I was always gonna say yes."

"Then it's good that the first time I managed to find the one time when you wouldn't," Jake had decided, rolling his eyes at himself.  "'Cause I'm glad we got the water tower, too, Babe.  Even if you did giggle the entire walk out there."

"Sorry," Heather had giggled in apology, pulling a soft groan from her husband.  "But both parts of our proposal are important," she'd continued, her tone becoming serious.  "To me anyway.  And they're both part of our story, no matter which Jake and Heather we are."

 "Okay.  Both parts stay in," he'd agreed.

"Thank you.  And tell you what," she'd added conspiratorially a few seconds later, "In about three, three and a half hours, we can take each other to bed.  How 'bout that?"

"You know I'm in," he'd agreed immediately, squeezing her fingers. 

"Jake," she'd said, her voice tightening, giving him just enough time to identify the possibility of a double entendre that he'd absolutely not intended.  But then, under her breath, she'd whispered, "Annie."

Their waitress had appeared at his elbow approximately ten seconds later, though her chatter had reached his ear earlier than that.  "Here are your shakes and your fries," she'd begun, expertly placing a stand next to their booth and depositing a large tray atop it in a single, fluid motion.  "Your burgers'll be out in a few.  Five minutes, tops," she'd assured, transferring first their milkshake glasses, then the metal cylinders with the excess for each of them, to the table.  Finally, she'd placed a platter of french fries in the middle of the table, asking, "You guys want anything besides ketchup for these?"

"Nah, just the ketchup," Jake had denied, grabbing the bottle from the caddy at the end of the table and squirting ketchup over the fries piled on one end of the plate. 

"Don't put that on all of them," Heather had ordered, selecting a fry from the other side of the pile, and then dipping it into her shake.  She'd popped the fry into her mouth, savoring her first taste of the milkshake and then chewing the fry.  "Oh my gosh, the peanut butter was an excellent call, if I do say so myself."

Jake had taken a slug of his own shake, agreeing, "Great call, Babe."

"All set?" Annie had inquired rhetorically, already having collapsed her tray stand.

"Almost," he'd answered, stopping her in her tracks.   "But if you've still got that whole pecan pie up front, can you box it up for us?  To go?"

The waitress had smiled, had told him to consider it done, and then had continued on her way.

"We don't need a pecan pie, too," Heather had argued.  "Especially given our plans for later," she'd reminded him, pitching her voice so low – and sultry – that he'd instinctively leaned in over the table to hear what she'd been saying.

"The pie is to take to Mom and Dad's tomorrow," he'd explained with a shrug.  He'd selected his own ketchup-free fry then, dipping it into his shake.  "Just padding the bill a little more, you know?"  She hadn't said anything, though her expression was eloquent all on its own.  "It's not a scam, Heather.  The other Jake Green's paycheck will cover the bill – all the bills.  We're gonna fill up your gas tank before we leave, too," he'd decided.

"Jake—" 

I'm gonna be doin' his work, Babe, so I think I can spend a little of his money.  And it all builds the cover story.  That make you feel better?"

It had taken a few seconds, but she had nodded, eating another shake-dowsed french fry.  "I guess when you put it that way…."  She'd trailed off, concentrating for a moment on selecting her next fry – a long one – before dunking it into her milkshake.  "But we can just get gas tomorrow."

"Wanna get home, huh?" Jake had teased, grinning at her knowingly.  "And we could get gas tomorrow," he'd continued, his timbre turning thoughtful.  "But I'm not usin' his card in Jericho, any place close to home.  Usin' it here is one thing.  Lots of people pass through here every day.  So…."

"Right," she'd muttered, her gaze concentrated on her lap.  "It's a lot to take in," she'd admitted, looking up to meet his eye.

"I know, Heather," he'd acknowledged, reaching for his own french fry which he'd then dipped into his own shake.  "Maybe we don't talk about this again until tomorrow or the next day."

"Sure," she'd agreed before asking, "Do I need to know my alternate ego's social security number?"

"If you wanna.  I have it," Jake had answered.  "But there's no reason—"

"What about an emergency?" Heather had countered.

"In an emergency, if you can't get me, you call Gretchen," he'd reminded her.  "Same as always.  You're not gonna hafta talk to anyone there.  And you sure as hell don't need to tell 'em your fake SSN.  This whole arrangement is just so we can talk while I'm gone.  I don't need you for that part."

"Okay," she'd returned, a slight edge to her tone.

"I didn't mean it like that," he'd assured her quickly.  "I need you, Heather, you know that.  But I also need to do my job.  And it helps me to do my job when I know you're separate.  I can't – can't have you involved.  Any more involved," he'd amended.

She'd closed her eyes, letting out a long breath before finally looking up and meeting his anxious gaze.  "You want me 'air gapped'."

"Yeah."  They had watched one another for a long ten seconds before he'd added, "I'm actually pretty good at my job, Babe."

"I know," Heather had nodded, exhaling softly.  "Or, so I've heard anyway," she'd grumbled, rolling her eyes.  "Hello, op sec, my old friend."

Jake had selected another "clean" french fry and had dipped it into his shake.  "Here," he'd said holding it out toward her.  "Peace offering."

She had offered him a wan smile, leaning in over the table to allow him to feed the fry to her.  "Accepted," she'd murmured after swallowing.

"Thank you," he'd replied, cupping her chin gently and running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.  "And I'm sorry I forgot to make bacon this morning," he'd continued, slowly withdrawing his hand.

"Hon, you weren't supposed to make pancakes," she'd argued.  "Today was supposed to be your make-up birthday, and we didn't do anything you wanted to do.  Even coming here ended up being for work."

"Wanted to spend the day with you, which is what I did," Jake had shrugged. 

"You watched me grade book reports," she'd returned doubtfully.

"And you read me that total take down of the whole Encyclopedia Brown franchise," he'd joked.  "That was pretty brutal.  Fair," he decided.  "But brutal.  When did eight-year-olds get so smart?"

"Kids know more than most adults realize," Heather had reminded him.  "And Samantha is definitely my best student this year." 

Jake had nodded.  "God, I hope so.  Otherwise, we're doomed." 

"We're not doomed," she'd countered, teasing, "The kids are all right, and they will lead us."

"Okay, Babe," he'd grinned in return.  "But I loved today.  And tomorrow, I'm making bacon to go with the pancakes.  And you hafta stay in bed this time.  Lemme bring 'em to you."

"What is the sudden obsession with bacon?" she had wanted to know.  "And," she'd continued, dunking yet another fry into her milkshake, "I was actually planning to go to the eight o'clock Mass.  Which means you can sleep in, and I'll go by McBee's for doughnuts and bring you breakfast in bed."

"I'm not obsessed," he had countered, "I've just been sittin' here watching you stick fry after fry in your milkshake and it reminded me that you actually like syrup on your bacon more that you like it on your pancakes."

"Everybody likes syrup on their bacon, and I don't like it more, I like it the same.  And you dip your fries into your shake, too."

"I've done it, like, three times, you've done it ten times at least," he'd accused, chuckling.

"Eight at most, and I'm switching to ketchup fries as soon as the burgers get here."

"Uh huh," he had returned, "Sure."  But her expression had clouded over, and Jake had rushed to apologize.  "Babe, I'm sorry.  I'm being a jerk."

"You're not being a jerk," Heather had contradicted, still frowning.  "I'm just…."  But the words – her thought – had drifted away, unspoken.

Jake had stuck another french fry into his shake and the had held it up.  "Peace offering, part two?" he'd offered.

But she'd shaken her head.  "That one's all yours.  You need to catch up," she'd claimed, even as she'd select her next fry from the plate and dipped it into her milkshake.

"Well, can I go to church with you tomorrow?" he'd requested.

"Peace offering two point five?" she'd guessed.  "You don't need to do that, Jake.  And you already went to church with me last weekend.  Twice."

"Not a peace offering, and that was a special occasion."

"It was," his wife had agreed, pasting on a smile that he'd known better than to accept at face value.  "But tomorrow isn't.  I'll be gone an hour and a half.  Little longer, if everyone else in town wants doughnuts tomorrow."

"I wanna spend time with you, Babe.  Makes it a special occasion in my book.  I won't fidget, okay?" he'd promised.  "And we can have breakfast at McBee's after.  Or, hey.  Saint Elizabeth's is like ten minutes from Cedar Run, so we could go there and have giant apple fritters with our breakfast.  Have 'em for breakfast, you pick."

"Jake."

"Heather."

"Okay, if you're sure," she had agreed, her tone tentative.  "But in the morning, if you don't wanna—"

"Babe, I'm goin' with you," he'd declared, interrupting her.  "I want to." 

"Okay," she'd repeated.

"So," he'd continued a half beat later, "You get the postcards?"

"I did," she'd answered, and this time her smile had been true.  "I checked everything out and decided to go with jackalope postcards.  They actually have three different jackalope—"

"You know if you send those, you're gonna hafta explain the jackalope all over again or the kids are gonna think it's real," Jake had predicted, watching as his wife had fished a small paper bag out of her purse.

"I've explained this.  Their parents know," Heather had argued, "And I keep telling you, kids are smarter than you think."

"Yeah, but even I thought the jackalope was real until I was seven, so…. "

"You believed in the legend of the jackalope two years longer than you believed in Santa Claus, huh?" she'd giggled, turning the bag upside down so the postcards had dropped into her hand. 

Well, what's more believable?" he'd asked rhetorically, "A jack rabbit with antlers or—"

The bumper stickers she'd purchased on a lark had slipped out of the bag, too, sliding an inch or so across the table toward Jake.  He'd stopped speaking and had picked one of them up, reading it quickly.  'If I'd Known Grandchildren Were This Much Fun, I Would Have Had Them First'.  He'd looked up and caught his wife's eye.  "Something we need to talk about, Babe?"

They had stared at one another before finally she'd answered, "Nope."

"So, you're not—"

"I'm not," she'd informed him, inhaling deeply.  "And I don't – we're not having this conversation.  Not now." 

"You sure?" he'd asked, countering her stiff tone with one that was gentle and warm.

"I am definitely sure I'm not pregnant, if that's what you mean," Heather had replied.  "And I'm just as sure about not having that particular conversation.  You're leaving town, Jake."  She'd shaken her head, swiping one hand across her suddenly suspiciously bright eyes.  "Leaving town," she'd muttered to herself, looking away.  "You're leaving the country," she'd corrected, her gaze flicking momentarily over him before she again found something interesting to stare at off to her right. "For months.  At least two – probably three, right?  Could even be longer.  So, yes, I am sure we don't need to talk about that."

"Are you telling me not to take this assignment?"

"No.  I'm telling you I'm not ready to talk about this," she had insisted.  "Kids.  Us having them."

"So, what's this then?" he'd inquired, turning the bumper sticker around so she could see.  "Why'd you buy it?"

"This is me, planning ahead," she had answered.  "That's all."  She had reached across the table, plucking the bumper sticker from his fingers before retrieving the two that had still been sitting on the table.  "I just thought that in a year or two or three, when maybe we'd have that kind of news, it'd be a fun way to tell my dad and your parents.  That's all," she'd insisted, returning the three bumper stickers to the bag. 

"Heather—"

"Please, Jake.  I can't.  Right now, I can't."

"Okay," he'd murmured around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.  He'd watched as she'd deposited the paper bag in her purse, and then had picked up the stack of postcards, before holding them out to him.  "But – you do know – there's no way in hell my dad's ever gonna put that on his truck," he'd told her accepting the postcards.  "Now Mom, she'll be all over it."

She'd resisted for a moment but eventually had cracked the tiniest of smiles.  "Yeah, well," she'd sighed, "I wasn't thinking we'd ask.  I thought that we'd go over there, put the bumper stickers on for them, then go into the house and tell them they needed to see something weird out in the driveway.  We'd all walk outside, and they would see," she'd shrugged.  "And know."

"Then Dad accuses me of vandalizing his truck, and Mom screams so loud that the Thoms come running," Jake had predicted.

"Maybe even the Carlisles will hear her," Heather had suggested, something close to a chuckle escaping her.

"Oh, they'll definitely hear her," he'd groaned.  "But I don't think they run anymore."  They were both silent for a beat before he'd murmured, "It's a great plan, Babe." 

"Thanks."

"Heather, you know when you're ready to talk—"

"I know.  And I'll let you know," she'd promised.  "But – just not yet, okay?"

He'd nodded, then had cleared his throat.  "So, there're seven postcards here," he'd informed her, fanning them out so he could quickly confirm his count.  "You do remember that half the kids can't read yet, right?"

"A half hour ago I was feeling a little more ambitious than I am now," Heather had admitted.  "We can just do three, one per household.  And I'm sure I can use the others at school for something.  We are the Jackalopes after all."

"So, we're gonna send a jackalope postcard to one eighty-third of all the Lisinski households in the country.  Got it."

"Now who's being a geek?" she'd accused lightly.

"One point two percent of the Lisinski households will get a jackalope postcard."

"Show off," she'd grumbled, fighting the smile that had teased at the corners of her mouth.

"Like you're not checkin' my math in your head," he'd joked.  "I do know you, Mrs. Green."

"I check everyone's math in my head," she'd shrugged.  "Your math just happens to always be right."

Jake had flashed a rather pleased grin at her, murmuring, "Thanks, Babe.  So," he'd continued, reaching over to pull a bunch of napkins out of the dispenser at the end of the booth.  "You gotta pen you can loan me?"

"I have at least five pens in my purse, Hon.  I think you know that," Heather had said, immediately producing three pens from her handbag.  "Blue or black?"

"Black.  And leave me the bottom righthand quadrant," he'd instructed.  Jake had picked up one of the postcards, propping it against his milkshake glass.  "I'm gonna figure out how to draw a jackalope holding a sign that says: 'Love Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake'."

A genuine smile had bloomed on Heather's face.  "That's perfect."

 

* * *

 

"As for the answer to your first question," Heather continued, "Johnston claims credit for the fact that we're the Jericho Elementary Jackalopes, but I dunno.  Sometimes, I can't always tell when he's teasing me."

"He teases you because he likes you, Heth," Mandy told her.  "Same reason his son teases you.  They seem to be a lot alike.  I mean I don't really know Johnston, but that's my impression."

"Well, I hope there's a slight difference in how my husband feels about me and how his father does," Heather returned giggling, "But they really are a lot alike."

"I wasn't saying that," her sister-in-law grumbled.  "Obviously.  Jake loves and adores you—"

"Well, I certainly hope so!"

"And Johnston, he likes you.  He's glad that you're a part of his family," Mandy decided.  "And he's not one of those people that… 'suffers fools gladly'.  That's the phrase, right?"

"That's it," Heather confirmed.  "And I think you're right, though he is the mayor.  He has to suffer at least some fools.  I imagine he bites his tongue a lot."

"Probably.  So how is he responsible for the school mascot being the Jackalopes?"

"Oh.  Well, when they built the high school, they had the students vote on a mascot – they went with 'The Raider', which is like a pirate.  Gramps said that he never liked that mascot because he suspected that the faction in town that proposed it was actually doing so in homage to Quantrill's Raiders.  They were this group of pro-Confederacy guerillas who sacked Lawrence Kansas during the Civil War," Heather explained.  "But they claimed that they were just proposing a pirate as mascot.  Which is what's painted on the back of the gym." 

"Anyway, since the high school got a mascot, the principal of the Elementary thought we – well, it – should have one too.  This was in the late fifties when Johnston was in sixth or seventh grade.  The principal suggested the 'Jericho Jackrabbits', which is cute and alliterative.  I would have gone for that," she admitted.  "But Johnston said that he got to talking to some of the other boys and convinced them to support his idea of the Jackalope instead.  So, they led a grassroots write-in campaign and it won."

"Elementary school mascot to the mayor's office," Mandy laughed, "That's quite the political trajectory."

"I'm pretty sure he was class president all through school, and all student body president, at least at the high school.  And he had some role in the student association at KU.  Not president, but something."

"And you think he was teasing you when he said that's how the Jackalope became the mascot?  It sounds reasonable to me," Mandy offered.

"Well, yeah, that all makes sense," Heather conceded.  "But I think they were teasing me when they told me how the 'legend of the jackalope' came about.  I looked it up later.  There was a guy in Wyoming who had taxidermy skills and made one – like, a mounted head – in the thirties as a joke, and then there is a guy in South Dakota who also makes them to sell.  But Gramps and Johnston – Jake too – all say that the jackalope was 'invented' on a cattle drive.  The cowboys sat around the campfire every night talkin' about this thing they all swore they'd seen at one time or another, building up the lore.  Gramps says the jackalopes favorite drink is whisky because the cowboys' favorite drink is whisky.  And Johnston says that the reason they supposedly can mimic human voices is because when the cowboys would go off to pee, before they came back, they would join in the singing from out in the dark but would deny it up and down when they rejoined the group, and just say 'must've been the jackalope'."

"So, cowboys on a cattle drive are basically a punchy hockey team on a long bus ride," Mandy surmised.

"Pretty much."

"And does Jake have anything to say about the jackalope?"

"Of course.  And that's what I mean, Jake and his dad don't always get along, but they always seem to when they're teasing me about something I don't know because I'm 'from back east' and a 'city girl'," Heather sighed.  "So, they can tease me all they want.  I just like seeing Jake – and Johnston, too – enjoying themselves together, even if it's a little bit at my expense."

"That's because you are a good and nice person," Mandy told her.  "But what does Jake say about the jackalope?"

"He says that they're considered so fierce – like lumberjacks wear stovepipes on their legs to protect them from the jackalope's bite – because cowboys really like to blame the jackalope for the things that have happened to them that would otherwise be embarrassing," Heather described.  "Like they'd say 'Lefty barely survived his meetin' with the jackalope' and then Lefty shows you his hand and he's missing his pinky finger from some cowboying mishap I don't want to know anything about.  And Jake also says that the jackalope was considered so virile because by the end of a cattle drive, the cowboys, uh, tended to only have one thing in mind – or on their minds – once they got back to civilization.  So, they endowed the jackalope with the romantic life they all wanted."

"Well, thank you for not putting that on the postcard you sent my kids," Mandy laughed. 

"Hey, Jake and I know how to aunt and uncle," Heather reminded her sister-in-law.  "Or uncle and aunt."

"You do.  And you're gonna be great at the whole parenting thing, too," Mandy predicted.  "Both of you."

"Thanks," Heather murmured.  "I think so."

"And I really don't think they were giving the jackalope a romantic life, Heth," her sister-in-law giggled, "Just a sex life."

Well, yeah," Heather snickered.  "But that's kinda the cowboy brand."

"Even for 'Cowboy Jake'?"

"Well, Jake would tell you he doesn't have cows," his wife hedged. 

"Uh uh," Mandy contradicted.   "He will always be 'Cowboy Jake' in this family no matter what logical arguments he comes up with."

"Yeah," Heather agreed.  "And he says that too.  That he's 'Uncle Cowboy Jake'.  Even if he doesn't have cows.  But I don't know….  For him – for us, those two lives are just really well blended, okay?  And – and let's leave it at that," she requested, chuckling uncomfortably.

"I'm glad to hear that," Mandy assured her.  "Even though it's basically what I always figured about you guys.  He's just – he's very into you.  And vice versa."

"Yeah," Heather sighed.

"But we'll leave it at that, and I'm gonna change the subject," Mandy announced.  "Back to your birthday.  How's it been?" she asked.  "You and Jake got to talk, so that's great.  Nice long talk?  Maybe a little bit of phone—"

"Mandy!" Heather objected, speaking over her sister-in-law, before breaking into a nervous giggle.  "We do not do that," she insisted.  "We just talk about – about things.  And exactly how was that changing the subject?"

"Hmph," the other woman returned, ignoring the accusation inherent in the question.  "Where exactly is the fun in 'just talking', Heather?"

"It is fun," she defended.  "We like talking to each other.  We've had two really nice, long talks today already.  Like, more than two hours.  And this morning, it was on Skype, so I got to see him, which was really great even though he looks really tired."

"But he still looks hot, right?"

"Well, yeah," Heather conceded, chuckling.  "He always looks hot."

"Good.  That's a relief," Mandy opined. 

"Little weird that my sister-in-law – you know, the person married to my brother – is worried about whether or not my husband is maintaining his hotness," Heather teased.  "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Hey!  I'm just looking out for you," Mandy claimed.  "What would be weird is if you were worrying about your brother maintaining his hotness." 

"That would definitely be weird," Heather agreed.  "I mean, I'm glad you and Deb and Kerry seem to think my brothers are worth reproducing with, but, uh, I really can't see it myself," she joked.

"That's a good thing," Mandy decided, "And while our reproducing days are behind us – maybe not Kerry and John – yours and Jake's are all ahead of you.  So, you know, it couldn't possibly hurt to step up your phone game, Heth.  Especially if he's gonna be gone another six months.  Sounds like major end of the cattle drive conditions to me.  For both of you."

"Oh my God!" Heather shrieked, punctuating her protest with a strangled "Mandy!"  She knew she was blushing – could feel the heat tingling in her face and the rest of her body – and she forced herself to take a calming breath before returning obstinately, "My phone game is fine."

"Just something to consider," her sister-in-law returned calmly.  "Like I said, I'm looking out for you."

"Jake and I, we flirt, we just don't get … graphic, okay?" 

"Okay, that's good," Mandy agreed.  "But I'm just saying that no marriage was ever harmed by a little phone foreplay.  Well, I mean," she amended quickly, "As long as the people on the phone are married to each other."

"Uh, yeah.  That's a very important caveat," Heather harrumphed in return.  She pressed the back of her free hand to first one cheek, then the other, exhaling a long breath.  "And if you must know, we were discussing earlier which pair of my panties are his favorite, so I can make sure I'm wearing them when we meet up in Hawaii.  A month from now," she emphasized.

"Ooh la la!" Mandy tittered.  "Not sure I actually needed to know that, but it was what I was talking about.  Good for you, Heth," she praised.  "Good for Jake, too."

"I actually don't know which ones are his favorite yet," she admitted, her breath whistling softly as she blew it out through pursed lips.  "We got off onto a tangent."  'We're going to make a baby,' she reminded herself, smiling at the thought.  'Just as soon as we can.'  "But we're gonna talk again tonight after dinner, so I'll make sure to get it out of him then.  In fact," she decided, digging through her tote bag on the passenger seat for her notebook, "I'm gonna write that down so I don't forget."

"You're making a list of conversation topics for a phone call with your husband on your birthday?" her sister-in-law asked, her tone incredulous.  "Oh, Heather," she scolded.

"Trust me, Jake will not be surprised.  And I have a few other things we need to not forget to talk about."

"Such as?" Mandy prompted.

"I don't know," Heather grumbled even as she wrote down 'rose color choices – meaning?' right below 'which panties?'.  "Okay.  So.  You probably don't know this, but Jake and I play chess, and he owes me a move.  So, I'm gonna ask him about that."  It was technically a lie – they had already discussed the chess move he owed her – so she didn't add it to her list, instead writing 'Great Dad – not just ok – AMAZING'. 

"Heather, for the love of all that is holy – for yourself, for Jake, for me – please write across the top of your list: 'flirt shamelessly'.  In all caps," Mandy instructed.  "It's your birthday and you should only be asking him about his chess moves if that's code for something else very specific."

'Everyone knows what "make a baby" is code for, Babe,' Heather allowed herself to recall her husband saying – teasing.  'So true, Hon,' she thought in return. 

"Not code for anything," she giggled softly, "Though Jake does claim that one day he'll figure out a set of rules for strip chess, so that's something to look forward to."

"Well, it gives me some hope for you two anyway," her sister-in-law sighed.  "Because I'm telling you, you guys need to get to some baby making."

"Mandy!" Heather chided then.  "We will get to that when we get to that, okay?  And I thought of something else," she informed the other woman after taking yet another calming breath.  "For my list, and that you need to know.  I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I'm gonna come to Buffalo after Hawaii."  She wrote 'Hawaii -> Buffalo -> Jericho' on her list of conversation topics.  "Jake tried to get me to go to Buffalo next week to spend some time with Mikey and the rest of you, and I just didn't do it.  So now, I think I'm gonna come after Hawaii."  She frowned to herself.  "I'm – I don't really want to be with Jake and then go straight home and have him not be there," she confessed.  "I think I need something in between that.  To look forward to."

Her sister-in-law squealed at this news.  "Oh my God, Heth!  Oh, this is so perfect.  And," she decided, pitching her voice sympathetically, "I think it's a really good idea not to torture yourself by going home alone without him.  And we would all love to see you, of course.  Oh!  I'm reserving a day with you right now.  You, me, and the girls.  We're gonna go to lunch, and we can go to your favorite museum—"

"Buffalo Museum of Science," Heather had interjected, not missing a beat.

"I knew you were gonna say that," Mandy giggled. 

"Well, we can always go to the Children's Museum, too," Heather offered.

"How 'bout we go to one or two museums in the morning and shopping in the afternoon," Mandy countered.  "Because that's fun too.  We're definitely spending the day together," she reiterated.  "Just the four of us girls."

"That sounds great," Heather assured her sister-in-law, "We're totally doing that.  And I have another idea, too."  She took a deep breath before continuing.  "Maybe you and Tommy can go away for the weekend – or for two or three days in the middle of the week, whichever you want – and I'll take the girls," she proposed.  "Voila!  You guys get a little bit of an early anniversary trip, and I get quality 'Auntie Heather' time with Ali and Hannah."

"Oh, Heather, if you really mean that…."

"I do.  I mean, I wanna come to hang out with Mikey and help get him to Yale.  But I was also really looking forward to being Auntie Heather for a bit.  And I was kinda thinking specifically about Megan—"

"Well, of course, you're her godmother," Mandy acknowledged.

"But I'm Auntie Heather for all the kids," she reminded, "And I want you and Tommy to get some time alone together.  Heck, maybe I'll make a blanket offer and just babysit all the kids at once," she declared rashly.

"That's seven kids, Heather.  By then, seven months to not quite eleven," Mandy cautioned.  "Maybe you better just offer to babysit one set of kids at a time."

"That's probably a better idea, huh?"

"Yeah.  But if you really do mean it, I'm gonna talk to Tommy tonight," Mandy declared.  "Plus, try and find someplace for us to go, preferably where there are no TVs.  Electricity, sure," she clarified, "I'm not a fanatic.  But if we're gonna go away for a little early anniversary trip, I'd really like it if we didn't immediately sit down to romantic episode of Sports Center."

"So, tell Tommy that," Heather instructed.  "Tell him that I'm babysitting because I want you guys to have a kid-free, sports-free second honeymoon."

"If I tell him 'second honeymoon' he'll listen at least," Mandy reasoned.  "I hope."

"Mandy—"

"It's okay, Heather.  You don't need to worry about this," her sister-in-law dismissed with a sigh.  "Tommy and I… we'll figure it out.  And we will totally take advantage of your babysitting offer to help us figure it out, okay?"

"Okay."

"So," Mandy said, seeming to perk up a bit.  "Is this a fun delivery you're waiting for, or just something you have to sign for, like a tractor part?"

"Why would I be getting a tractor part?" Heather questioned, giggling.  "I don't have a tractor."

"Yeah, but you live on a farm," Mandy argued, laughing herself.  "I've been to your house, and I sure thought you had a tractor.  Well, not you.  But the farm – the ranch.  I saw one – a couple.  And I dunno, those things are expensive, right?  So, their parts would be too," she reasoned.  "So, somebody'd hafta sign for 'em."

"Oh, very," Heather confirmed.  "But those tractors, and combines, and everything else, they don't belong to us – to the ranch.  They belong to the corporation that rents the land from the ranch," she clarified.  "Though, I think I lied.  The ranch does have the Bobcat, which is technically a tractor.  But it's little, nothing like what you're talking about.  And Jake and Tony just use that if they need to move hay or dirt around, clear snow, things like that."

"Well, I know what one of those is.  I've seen those," Mandy said.  "Like on construction sites and stuff."

"Yeah.  Exactly.  And even the Bobcat, they wouldn't ask me to accept a part for it," Heather informed her sister-in-law.  "Tony would do it, or Johnston might if for some reason Tony couldn't.  And if they needed me to do something in an emergency, of course I would, but what do I know about parts for the Bobcat?"

"The only thing that happens around here that we're involved in is the horse business," she continued without waiting for a response.  "Horse breeding to be exact.  And that is still very weird," she confessed, heaving a quiet sigh.  "Johnston and Eric – well, and Stanley," she amended quickly, "They were here this weekend to do horse breeding.  Only they were breaking in a new stud—"

"They really call it that?" Mandy giggled.  "Wow."

"I think so.  Maybe.  I mean it's called stud service for sure.  Like one stud and all the mares he can service in a day," Heather snorted.  "And it was so embarrassing.  For me – not the horse," she groaned.  "Because it was a new horse, and they had to make sure he knew what to do.  So maybe that's not breaking him in, because breaking a horse is what you do so you can ride him.  And Jake called him – the stud – 'unproven' and said he's basically unproven until there are 'foals on the ground'."

"So, like, you, Johnston, Eric and Stanley stood around and watched a horse lose its virginity?" Mandy asked, her tone one of complete disbelief.  "Seriously?  Wow."

"Basically," Heather confirmed, allowing a humorless chuckle.  "Except there were ten of us.  Well, nine of us," she corrected a beat later, after counting everyone up in her head.  "But yeah, I live on a horse ranch, and we don't have a big tractor, just a couple of studs and a ton of broodmares.  With a lotta the land rented out.  And on the rented land, they planted sorghum, like two weeks ago," she offered.  "Johnston handles all of those contracts, but I was curious and asked him what they were planting this year and he said sorghum."

"Okay, I've heard the word before, but what the heck is sorghum?" Mandy wanted to know.

"It's a grain.  Apparently, you can eat it, but it's mostly grown as cattle feed and sometimes turned into ethanol," Heather explained.  "Here at least.  But Johnston said the sorghum they are growing on the ranch this year is for silage.  That means cattle feed."

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Green, for the agricultural lesson," Mandy teased.  "I feel so smart.  And of course, you move to Kansas, like five years ago, and you just figure all this stuff out."

"I don't know about that.  Sometimes, I feel like I have none of it figured out," she admitted. 

"So, now you're just being ridiculous, Heth," Mandy chided.  "You might not be the expert you always expect yourself to be, but that doesn't mean that you know nothing.  You know plenty, and you like living in Kansas, right?"

"I know," her sister-in-law sighed softly.  "And I do.  I really love living here.  And not just because Jake's here either," she insisted, giggling at herself.

"Pretty sure Jake's got something to do with you loving Kansas," Mandy giggled in return.

"Well, yeah, he's got a lot to do with it," Heather conceded.  "I love him, and I want to be wherever he is.  Not when he's working an assignment of course.  But this is where he belongs, so it's where I belong too," she declared. 

Jake, she knew, didn't necessarily agree with her belief that he belonged in Kansas – or more specifically in Jericho and on the Green Ranch – but Heather had long understood this in her very core.  And while she was sure he could probably live anywhere; she also knew that Kansas and Jericho and the Green Ranch were practically encoded in his DNA.  Certainly, she'd learned to love the town and the ranch by experiencing them through his eyes, starting in that first hour they had known one another when he'd taken her see the view from the water tower, pointing out the landmarks that defined the ranch's borders and explaining about how EJ Green had built the stargazing deck as a present for his new bride, Betsy.

"This is just an amazing place to live," Heather said, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.  "And sure, if you'd asked me an hour before I met Jake if I'd still be living in Kansas a year from then, I would have probably told you that there was no way, but—"

"But then you did meet him, and you instantly changed your mind," Mandy decided.  "I mean, that whole thing about how the first night you'd met him, he followed you home and then didn't kiss you, but you really wanted him to?" she reminded her sister-in-law.  "I remember that.  Because it sounded nothing like you and at the same time exactly like you."

"What does that mean?" Heather demanded. "That it was nothing like me but exactly like me.  That doesn't even make sense."

"Just that you were never the 'fall in love one week, totally over it the next week' type.  I mean, I've seen more than one boy flirt with you – David included – and you were always so oblivious," Mandy explained.  "But when you finally fell, you fell hard." 

"David flirted with me?" Heather chuckled.  "When?"  She had known Mandy's younger brother for nearly fifteen years and while he – and she – had always been friendly, she really didn't think any of their occasional and highly superficial conversations could possibly be construed as flirtatious.

"Like I said, oblivious," Mandy groaned.  "And the summer you turned eighteen, every time we all got together, and that was a lot that summer, especially after Ali was born.  But I nipped that in the bud.  He's my brother and I love him, but he's really not good enough for you.  Besides, only one of us gets to marry into the Lisinski family or it's just weird."

"You're crazy," Heather informed her sister-in-law, still laughing.  "But yeah, I think – I know – I fell hard for Jake.  I fell forever for Jake," she confessed, making a contented sound.  "And it was pretty quick too.  Maybe not that first night when he followed me home, but the next day, probably.  Within twenty-seven to thirty hours," she calculated, "Of us meeting."

"So, he got around to kissing you twenty-seven hours after you met," Mandy teased.  "Got it."

"Actually, I kissed him, if you must know.  I kissed him first, I mean," Heather giggled.  "And then he figured he could kiss me, too.  Which, he totally could."

"Oh, really?" Mandy chuckled, sounding rather impressed by this tidbit of information.  "Well, good for you Heth.  And good for Jake," she repeated, "I'm sure."

"But I really do love it here.  The town and the ranch both.  It's so different from home.  Though now, it is home.  It's hard to explain," Heather claimed, even as she continued to expound on her feelings about her adopted home.  "I just know that this is where I belong and where I want my – our – children to grow up." 

"You know, I was kinda shocked when you moved to Kansas too, 'cause that didn't seem like you at first either.  But now it makes sense that you live there.  I still wish you were a little closer to home though.  Well.  To here, I mean," Mandy corrected.

"That is the only problem with Kansas.  It really needs to be a couple of states closer to New York.  Or one.  We need to shove Missouri down, outta the way or something," Heather joked.

"Exactly.  I mean why did they call it Kansas City when it's in Missouri?  I've always been suspicious of that."

"Super sketchy for sure," her sister-in-law confirmed.

"So, your delivery is a fun delivery then?" Mandy inquired a good ten seconds later.  "Since we've established that it's not a tractor part."

"It's a mystery, actually," Heather answered.  "Part of my birthday present from Jake.  Which he didn't need to do," she insisted.  "He already got me a birthday cake for breakfast.  Chocolate Kahlua."

"Birthday cake for breakfast, like the Burkes always do," Mandy surmised.  "And Kerry and John now.  Tommy's so jealous of that, but at least I let him make the craziest pancakes for birthday breakfasts.  Banana and chocolate chip with caramel sauce and canned whipped cream."

"Mandy, that's basically ice cream sundaes made with pancakes instead of ice cream," Heather laughed.  "What does Tommy have to be jealous of?" 

"I know!  Exactly."

"And before today, Jake always made me pancakes for my birthday too," Heather told her sister-in-law. 

 

She smiled to herself, recalling how surprised she'd been – how loved she'd felt – on her twenty-third birthday – five weeks before their wedding – when she'd woken up at five in the morning to find Jake in her kitchen making pancakes and bacon.  He'd allowed her to get her coffee and then had shooed her back to bed, promising to bring her breakfast to her in a few minutes.

"This is s'posed to be breakfast in bed, Babe," he'd told her, kissing her gently.  "So, you know, go get in bed."

"I could get very used to this," she'd teased, ignoring his order and standing on tiptoe so she could brush her mouth over his. 

"Well, get used to it," Jake had commanded with mock gruffness, his arm snaking around her waist.  He'd held her against him, and they had exchanged one, two, three more kisses before he'd finally put her away from him.  "In bed.  Now." 

"Fine.  I'm goin'," she'd decided, taking a step back, their gazes still locked.  She'd glanced at the stove a moment later, shaking her head at him and grinning.  "Don’t burn those pancakes," she'd instructed.  "Or the bacon.  And bring butter and syrup.  Plenty of syrup.  We need it for the bacon too."

"So bossy," he'd complained jokingly.  "I've got it covered, Babe, promise.  Happy Birthday, Heather.  Love you."

She'd taken a step sideways to retrieve her coffee mug from the counter, then had moved toward him one last time, placing her hand on his chest.  "I'm goin'," she'd repeated, echoing, "Love you too."

 

"And I love pancakes, of course.  I mean, who doesn't?  But we're gonna do birthday cake for breakfast for all birthdays from here on out because we're so not above stealing the Burkes' tradition and importing it to Kansas."

"Just don't tell your brother about that, please," Mandy requested.  "And what else did he get you?  Besides a trip to Hawaii?"

"Hawaii is for our anniversary, not for my birthday," Heather corrected.  "But he got me a coffee of the week club subscription for a year, and he sent me roses," she listed, "So he really didn't need to get me something else."

"Yeah, but he wanted to, Heth," Mandy argued, "So, you just need to go along with it."

"You sound like Gail," Heather chuckled softly.  "She keeps telling me that he wants me to have 'fun surprises' for my birthday and then really turns on the mom tone of voice to remind me that I want to let him give me 'fun surprises'.  Which is completely true."

"Don't knock the 'mom voice'," Mandy admonished.  "You will be glad you get to have a 'mom voice' one day, trust me.  Also, that you get to say, 'Because I'm your mom, that's why'."

"And now, in five or ten years, when I finally get to say that, I'll think of you, Mandy," Heather promised, chuckling softly before falling silent for a long moment.  "And I think my delivery will be here any moment now," she announced, spotting in the rearview mirror, the cloud of dust rising in the distance over what she knew was the first quarter mile of the Green Ranch Road.  "Whoever this delivery person is, they're really taking the road too fast," she frowned. 

"I should let you go," Mandy decided.  "Happy Birthday, Heather!  I'm so glad we got to talk.  And you hafta email me and tell me what the mystery delivery was."

"We don't hafta hang up yet," Heather contradicted.  "They're not here yet."

"But you're gonna need to sign for it, right?"

"I think so.  Jake just said it was being delivered, and I should be here.  He didn't even say it, just emailed it."  She paused, not really wanting to explain any of the intricacies of her husband's cover story or how she assumed this was going to turn out to be a rather extravagant gift.  "But it's not a delivery van," she informed her sister-in-law, as a car – an expensive looking, foreign-made sedan, not the sort of vehicle that usually made an appearance on the Green Ranch – topped the rise.  "It's just somebody's regular car."

"Do you recognize it?" Mandy questioned.

"Not the car," Heather replied, observing in the mirror as the Mercedes coasted to a stop about ten feet back from her SUV.  "Jake said I'd recognize the delivery person," she continued, popping open her door just as the other driver opened his.  "And I do," she added a few seconds later as both she and the driver exited their vehicles.

"Well, who is it?" Mandy demanded.

"The jeweler we went to for our wedding rings," Heather answered, keeping her voice pitched low as she closed the Trailblazer's door.  "And who resized my engagement ring."

"So, it's jewelry!  Nice!" Mandy acknowledged enthusiastically.  "Now I am gonna let you go, Heth.  But thanks for the talk – for everything, and Happy Birthday.  I love you."

"I didn't do anything," her sister-in-law protested, "Just listened.  And I love you too, Mandy.  Bye," she returned, thumbing the 'End' button on her phone.

 

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 10.

 

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and if you want to know (eventually) how it ends.

 

 

Author's Notes (if you're curious….):

When Heather refers to the Thruway to explain truck stops to Mandy, she is referring to the New York State Thruway, a system of controlled-access (or toll) highways covering around 570 miles of New York State.   There are nearly 30 travel plazas along the Thruway that Heather refers to in order to give Mandy an idea about what a truck stop is like.  Personally, I have been to both travel plazas along "The Thruway" and to more than one truck stop (west of the Mississippi) in my life and they have both similarities and differences.  But I figured it was a quick way for Heather to put her sister-in-law at ease about the fact that Heather and Jake go to the truck stop every once in a while.

 

V.C. Andrews was an American novelist, known for writing novels that combined gothic horror with family saga.  She died in 1986, a few years before Heather was caught with a copy of her book, My Sweet Audrina, as she headed into chapel (which was likely 1993).  My Sweet Audrina was published in 1982 and is her only stand-alone novel published during her lifetime.  I remember reading the book sometime in the late 80s or early 90s and having now read a summary of it I know that (as I suspected) I blocked a lot of it out.  It is very gothic, full of horror, and quite the family saga.  I remember seeing (early 2000s) V.C. Andrews books in the truck stop that was 2 miles from my previous home, so I assume teenage girls were still reading them when Heather was in high school.   Also, the name "V.C. Andrews" was deemed so lucrative of an asset that the IRS forced her family to include its value in her gross estate.  This has proven true as a ghostwriter has published five times as many novels under her name as she published herself. 

 

The US Census ranking of surnames is available here: https://www.census.gov/data/developers/data-sets/surnames.2010.html#list-tab-1456661748 for both the 2000 and 2010 censuses.  I've always been fascinated by these files and assume that Heather would be too. 

Jake and Heather both have imperfect recall regarding certain facts found in this data.  There were 231 Lisinski households in the United States in 2000 (and a rank of 77,222nd most common).  By the 2010 census the number of Lisinski households had dropped to 221 (with a rank of 84,748th).  Clearly this is not reflective of the Different Circumstances universe where at least the Buffalo Lisinskis keep forming new households.  Or maybe it is reflective of the Jericho universe where the bombs happened… although I don't believe that a 2010 census would have been taken given the … circumstances. (I do know the fate of all the Lisinskis so you will just have to stay tuned to find out.)

The surname Green was 37th in rank in the 2000 census (413,477 households) and 41st in rank in the 2010 census (430,182 households).  Of all our Jericho favorites, only Anderson (rank of 12th), Taylor (rank of 13th) and Clark (rank of 25th) occur more frequently than Green in the U.S. (also Williams [rank of 3rd] and Lewis [rank of 26th]) per the 2000 census.  In fact, Lisinski is such an outlier as far as being selected for a TV character's name, that the nearest least common surname from Jericho is Prowse with a rank of 34,459th and 622 households in the 2000 census.

Finally, the surname of Lind has a rank of 2,316th with 14,302 households (2000 census), which explains both Mellie's and Jake's relief.

 

The USGS Geographical Names Index is actually the Geographic Names Information System (GNIS) and can be found here: https://www.usgs.gov/tools/geographic-names-information-system-gnis

If you query for "Jericho" in this database (excluding variants) you will learn that there are 94 geographic locations that include "Jericho" in the name in the U.S.  About half of these are populated places and/or "civil" locations.  This includes 2 Towns of Jericho and 1 Village of Jericho.  There are many water features/locations such as Jericho Creek or Jericho Stream.  There are 2 Jericho Canyons, 2 Jericho Hills, 2 Jericho Hollows, and 4 Jericho Mountains.  My favorite "Jericho" place is Walls of Jericho (sounds vaguely familiar 😉), a cliff in Alabama.  Curiously, there are no geographic designations named Jericho in Kansas.  (That can't possibly be true!!  Or at least in my heart this is not so.)

 

As a non-Catholic, Jake cannot officially be a sponsor for a child being baptized into the Catholic faith. To be named as a sponsor or godparent a person is required to be at least 16 years of age, and a practicing Catholic.  If there is one sponsor, they may be of either sex, or 2 sponsors may be named but they must be one man and one woman.  Godparents must have received the Sacraments of Baptism, Eucharist, and Confirmation. If married, the godparent must be married in the Catholic Church or had their marriage blessed by the Catholic Church. Therefore Heather (in the DC universe) qualifies to be a godparent to her niece, Megan.  Jake, as a baptized non-Catholic, qualifies to be an "official witness".  Technically, since Jake is not religious (I'm going out on a limb and saying that's a fact of both the canon and DC universes), he probably doesn't completely qualify.  However, he was qualified Megan's parents' eyes, and DC Jake is proud to have been named a godparent in spirit, if not in complete accordance with Catholic law.  He certainly intends to fulfill his obligations as Megan's godfather.

 

When Heather says "Hello op sec, my old friend" she was making a sort of gallows humor joke in homage to the song The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel which was released in 1964.  Heather replaces the word "darkness" in the first line of the song (Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again ….) to express her feelings about operational security or "op sec", which is something that Jake sometimes has had to claim as a reason why he can't discuss his work.

 

Encyclopedia Brown is a series of 29 children's novels featuring the adventures of boy detective Leroy "Encyclopedia" Brown.  The books were written by Donald J. Sobol, with the first book published in 1969 and the last published in 2012, after Sobol's death.  The structure of an Encyclopedia Brown novel involves the boy detective solving (usually) 10 mysteries based on a logical or factual inconsistency that is revealed to the reader in the text.  (Therefore, the reader could solve the mystery ahead of Encyclopedia Brown.)  The series is a staple of elementary school libraries throughout the U.S., and I've no doubt that the Jericho Elementary School library boasted copies of all 24 Encyclopedia Brown books that had been written by the point at which Heather read to Jake her student's brutal but fair takedown of the franchise.

 

Cedar Run is mentioned a few times in Jericho canon, though we never get to visit.  Jake spotted the empty prison bus on Cedar Run Road and Gail goes to stay with some mysterious cousins in Cedar Run during Season 2.  In the Different Circumstances universe, Jake's cousin Kevin lives in Cedar Run with his wife Janine and 2 kids, Alex and Zoey.  Also, in the Different Circumstances universe, 2 of the amenities of the small, unincorporated hamlet of Cedar Run are its putt-putt golf course and the giant apple fritters ("as big as a man's head") that are a specialty of the local café.

 

Quantrill's Raiders were the most notorious of the pro-Confederate partisan guerillas (a.k.a., "bushwhackers") who fought in the American Civil War.  They were led by William Quantrill (hence the name) and were known for their skirmishes with anti-slavery "Jayhawkers" in the Kansas Territory.  (Jayhawker is synonymous with the people of Kansas or anybody born in Kansas.  Today, Jayhawk is a nickname for a native-born Kansan such as Stanley or Jake.)  In August 1863, Quantrill led an attack on Lawrence Kansas (a center of anti-slavery sentiment) that is known as the "Sacking of Lawrence".  The attack killed more than 180 citizens of Lawrence.  Gramps, as another Jayhawk, would not put up with anyone on the side of Quantrill's Raiders, so let's hope that the Jericho High Red Raider (the mascot in the DC universe anyway) really is just a pirate as depicted on the back of the gymnasium.

 

Many of the things Heather explained to Mandy about the "Legend of the Jackalope" are commonly known as part of the myth of the jackalope.  (For example, that the first jackalope trophy was in fact made by a Wyoming taxidermist in the 1930s as a joke.  Also, it is a common "fact" of the legend that jackalopes are aggressive, so lumberjacks wear stovepipes on their legs to protect themselves from the jackalope's attack.) 

The idea that the jackalope was invented on a cattle drive is quite possibly true, but I have the Green men tell Heather that story here based on my own experience.  When I was 8, I saw a jackalope postcard in a gift shop, and had to buy it.  A few days later, I showed it (along with other postcards I'd acquired on my family's summer vacation road trip) to my uncles (my dad's 2 brothers) and they both claimed that they were present on the hunting trip where the jackalope was "invented", telling me that each night of the trip, around the campfire, the jackalope had gotten bigger and meaner until it was much larger than the animal on my postcard.  I was 8, so I still had to ask the clarifying question: "So the jackalope isn't real?"  I truly couldn't tell from their tall tale.  And yes, I still have the jackalope postcard.

 

Sorghum is the fourth most common agricultural product grown or raised in the state of Kansas.  Sorghum is also known as broomcorn and is a genus of about 25 species of flowering plants in the grass family.  Sorghum is grown as cereal for human consumption, as animal feed and to make bristles for brooms.  Most sorghum produced in Kansas is (as Heather tells Mandy) used in ethanol production or for silage.

Writing about (speaking of) Kansas' agricultural products, the first is cattle and calves, followed by wheat and then corn.  The fifth most common agricultural product in Kansas is soybeans.  So, when Jake and Heather reflect that New Bern is an unfortunate bit of rust belt (remember New Bern's jealousy over all that good farmland around Jericho) surrounded by the corn, wheat and cattle belts, there is a reason for the selection of these 3 agricultural products.  The funny thing is, that if you do an internet search for the list of wheat belt states, Kansas is often not included.  But for the purposes of DC, it is. 

 

 

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 10

by Marzee Doats

 

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 400 pages and 11 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

 

Warnings:

There is some foul language in this part.  So fair warning about that.  I have tried to stay true to the character (the one who lives in print and not on network television) without being gratuitous. 

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

 

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

 

Tuesday June 6, 5:23 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

Heather spotted Gail as soon as she entered Roma Italia's small, somewhat overcrowded with furniture, lobby.  Of course, she wasn't hard to find; aside from the hostess – Elena "Nona" Rossi, who co- owned and managed the restaurant along with her husband – her mother-in-law was the only other person present. 

"There's our birthday girl," Gail announced, rising from her seat on the long bench across from the hostess station.  The two met in the middle of the lobby, Gail beaming at her daughter-in-law – whose smile was honestly a little bit wider than her own – and pulling her into a hug.   "So, Heather," she asked as she released her from their embrace a long moment later, "How has your first day as a twenty-seven-year-old been?"

Grinning, Heather laughed at that.  "Really, really amazing," she answered, "Which I wasn't quite expecting.  Or expecting at all, to be honest."

"I know, Sweetheart," her mother-in-law assured, catching her hand in her own and squeezing it.  "And it is amazing."

"I so didn't want to celebrate my birthday," the younger woman admitted.  "I mean, I knew I was gonna hafta a little bit, and you've all been so sweet about everything, but I just – I wanted to get through the day without crying," she confessed, swiping the back of her free hand across suddenly watery eyes.  "And clearly I spoke too soon," she groaned before blowing out a long, calming breath.

"But that's okay," Gail insisted, wrapping an arm around her daughter-in-law, and leading her over to the bench she'd vacated not even two minutes earlier.  "Because these are happy tears," she declared as they seated themselves.  "I hope."

Nona Rossi caught Gail's eye then, and after producing a call bell from a shelf inside the hostess's stand and placing it on top, motioned that she was heading into the kitchen.  Gail nodded her thanks.

"Yes, definitely happy tears," Heather confirmed, giving up on rooting through her purse when her mother-in-law handed her a travel tissue packet from her own handbag.  "I – I tried to get here early," she explained, pressing a tissue to the corner of one eye.  "So, we could talk.  And I could say thank you for delivery services rendered," she smiled.  "So, thank you."

"Sweetheart, you are very welcome," the older woman laughed.  "Besides I don't think it will surprise you to learn that I was absolutely delighted to be recruited for that particular 'delivery service'."

"Uh, no," her daughter-in-law verified, emitting a gentle laugh, and wiping her other eye with the tissue.

"And you're hardly late.  It's not even five thirty yet," Gail argued.

"But I meant to be here earlier," Heather insisted.  "It's just that I've had a lot of phone calls this afternoon.  And one delivery," she added, her hand moving to her necklace, fiddling with the pendant, moving it back and forth on its chain. 

 

* * *

 

Grant Dalton had introduced himself by name, adding, "I'm the 'Son' in Dalton and Son's Jewelers."

"I remembered that you were one of the Daltons, but I'm glad to know your name, Grant," Heather had returned, clipping her cell phone to the pocket of her shorts before holding her hand out to him so they could shake.

Smiling, Grant had pumped her arm enthusiastically.  "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here," he'd continued half a beat later, "And also since I happen to know it's your birthday, Happy Birthday, Mrs. Green—"

"Heather, please," she'd interrupted.  "And thank you.  Jake told me that I should be here when my present arrived, and that I would recognize the delivery person, which I assume is you.  And I definitely recognized you."

"Great," he had declared, his smile widening.  "I never expect people to remember me," he'd confessed with his next breath.  "Which is not important.  But, yes, I have your present from Jake."  He'd shown her a navy blue sueded box that had 'Dalton & Sons Jewelers, Fielding Kansas' embossed across the top in an elegant silver script.  With a deft hand, he'd removed the lid, showing her the velour jewelry case that had been nestled inside.  He had extracted the case and handed it to her.  "I'd open it for you – for sure I would do that if we were in the store.  But that seems like an odd gesture—" 

He'd shaken his head at himself, allowing a frustrated noise to escape.  "Anyway, I know that Jake wanted to give this to you in person, but he said he'd gotten held up on an overseas assignment.  Which, obviously, you know," he'd chuckled self-consciously. 

"Yeah," she'd agreed with a sigh, "I know."

"Well, he and I have been emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks now.  Couple months, really."

Nodding absently, she had opened the hinged box.  "Oh, my goodness."   

"Ever since I spotted that for sale online," Grant had completed. 

"This – this is amazing," Heather had breathed, fingering the pendant.  The stone was the same shape and size as the star sapphire in her engagement ring and the setting was both simple and elegant.  "Is this the infinity symbol?"

"Exactly right," he'd confirmed.  "It arrived in a very bad setting, to be honest.  Not well crafted in the first place, and rather dated.  Estate jewelry has moved online in the last few years, and I spotted this in the inventory of a shop in Oregon.  I sent the link to Jake and told him I was sure this was the best quality star sapphire I'd seen since your engagement ring—"

"It definitely matches," she'd decided, holding the jewelry box out next to her hand for him to see. 

"I was certain it was close, and I told Jake that.  But that is a definite match," the jeweler had agreed, flashing her a pleased smile.  "Jake told me to buy it for him – well, for you.  Then I recommended resetting it and sent him a couple of options.  He chose the 'infinity love knot'."

 

* * *

 

"I'm guessing that's your last present from Jake?" Gail inquired, pointing at her daughter-in-law's fingers resting absently on the necklace she was wearing.  "It's beautiful.  I heard about it, but never got to see the pictures."

"Well, I hope it's my last present from Jake," Heather chuckled, letting go of the pendant so that it lay against her skin just below her throat.  "I was half afraid I'd get here, and you'd hand me something else from him," she confessed.  "And it's definitely been a day of 'fun surprises', like you said.  But if there's one more thing …."  She shook her head.  "I don't want him doing these things because he's feeling guilty about being gone.  And not gone.  Just temporarily away."

"I don't think he is," his mother argued.  "He loves you and he misses you, that's the only reason you need to think about.  And as far as I'm aware, that is everything," she declared, gesturing at Heather's necklace.  "And it truly is beautiful."

"Here," Heather said, shifting slightly in her seat and holding the pendant out for inspection.  "Grant Dalton said the setting is called the 'infinity love knot', which I love, and then when I said that to Jake, he said that's what he'd been going for.  Because infinity.  Forever."

 

* * *

 

Jake had called her back for the first time right after Grant Dalton's departure, almost before she'd had a chance to get inside the house (bringing her bouquet and new necklace with her) and disarm the security system.  But he'd been calling from his unsecured cell and Heather had played along just as he'd requested in his email.  She'd made up a gift that her father had sent to her, but – following Jake's advice about cover stories – had preserved a nugget of truth.  "It's a sentimental present, Hon," she'd told him.  "The bracelet my grandparents gave my mom for her twenty-first birthday.  Though who knows why Dad waited until now to give it to me."

What she hadn't said – and which Jake knew – was that Renate Schulze had married Joseph Lisinski only a month after her twenty-first birthday, and she'd worn the bracelet as her "something new".  Joe had actually given the bracelet to Heather for her twenty-third birthday – albeit a month late – and declaring that she was "following tradition", Heather had worn the bracelet for their wedding, but as her "something old".

"He wanted you to have it," he'd offered, "Doesn't really matter when he got around to giving it to you, right?  And I'm sure your mom wanted you to have it."

"Yeah," she'd agreed.  "And Mom was probably too sick to really think about it when I turned twenty-one.  And she was gone before I turned twenty-two, so….  I'm just glad to have it now."

"Good."

"Jake, I need to go.  I need to take a shower and change clothes," she'd informed him, which was also just as he'd instructed in his email ('Go ahead and get rid of me pretty quick.  Tell me you need to take a shower before dinner with Mom and April.  Maybe give me a minute to complain that I don't get to join you.').  "I'm hot and sweaty and no way am I going to dinner with your mom and April wearing shorts and my school polo shirt."

"Now that's just mean, Babe," he'd accused, groaning softly.  "Teasin' me with a shower and 'hot and sweaty' all in one sentence."

"Technically, two sentences," she'd countered.  "But you know what?  If you were here, I'd bet you'd be hot and sweaty too," she'd predicted, practically purring.  "So then, I'd invite you to join me.  In the shower."

"I'm kinda permanently hot and sweaty here," he'd reminded her, his timbre dropping so that his voice had been a low rumble in her ear that had sent a delightful tingle up her spine.  "But if I were home, I'd be racing you to the shower.  And then I'd let you win, since it's your birthday and all."

"Oh, you're gonna let me win, huh?" she'd retorted, feigning annoyance.  "I don't think so, Mister."

"I'm taller than you, my legs are longer, and it takes me fewer steps to get anywhere.  Those are just facts, Babe."

"You are also too polite to ever beat me to the shower," she had informed him.  "Because your mom – well, and your dad – drilled 'ladies first' into you from birth.  And even if you decided to ignore that instinct – that training, whatever you want to call it – I also happen to know that sometimes you enjoy watching me walk in front of you."

"Those are also facts," he'd agreed, "Which is why – like I said – I'd let you win."

Heather had caught herself smiling at the grin she could hear in his voice.  "Oh, Jake," she'd chuckled, "Sometimes…."

"You just can't believe how much you love me, right?" he'd filled in for her.

"Exactly."

"Go take your shower," he'd ordered.  "And have fun at dinner with Mom and April, okay?  I'll call you again later tonight."

"Can't wait, Hon," she'd murmured.  "Though you know," she'd continued after a moment's hesitation, "If you were here now, I'd be having a lot more fun today.  In the shower.  And at dinner.  After dinner.  With you."  A short titter had escaped Heather, and she'd admitted with her next breath, "I talked to Mandy for, like, all the time between your last call and this one, and she told me I needed to up my phone game where you're concerned.  So, that was my attempt."

"Well, I love the attempt," Jake had declared.  "But your phone game's fine, Heather, promise.  Don't ever feel like you have to change things for me.  I love you.  Just the way you are."

"Not to quote a song or anything," she'd giggled.

"That was an accident," he'd insisted, chuckling.  "Still true, though.  Happy Birthday.  I love you.  Go take a shower so – you know – I can sit here for the next half hour, thinkin' 'bout how you're takin' a shower," he'd joked.

"Okay," she'd sighed.  "But just so you know, the whole time I'm in the shower, I'm gonna be thinkin' about you, too.  You know.  In the shower."

Jake had groaned again.  "Now that's really mean, Babe."

"Sorry," she'd laughed, though it had quickly given way to a sigh.  "But I wasn't trying to be mean, more like giving you something else to ponder.  'Cause I love you too.  So much."

"You better go.  Then I can get to pondering," he'd teased.  "Love you.  Bye."

"Love you.  Bye."

He had called again nine minutes later; she'd answered on the first ring.  "Please tell me that you haven't had time to take a shower, 'cause I have not had time to really ponder that yet.  And I want to."

"So, you're in a good place to talk?"

"I am."

"I haven't taken a shower yet, but I am poised to do so," she'd told him.  "I'm not technically hmm – hmm, but all I hafta do is turn it on and then five seconds and one – shall we say 'tug'? – later, I can be taking a shower.  Well, thirty.  But that's just to let the water warm up."

"I think I'm gettin' the picture, Babe," he had chuckled.  "And thank you for such a great picture to ponder later."

"You are most welcome," she'd told him, her voice full of affection.  "But you can stop sayin' 'ponder' now.  It's starting to get a little weird."

"Hey, you started it," he'd returned.  "But okay.  I'll just go back to thinking about you taking a shower.  No more pondering.  That work?"

"That works," she had sighed.  "Would work even better if you were here."

"Trust me, I wish to hell I was."

"Jake, uh…" she had begun after a short pause.  "You – you like my dad, right?  That – all of that earlier – that was part of the cover story, right?"

"Yeah, Babe.  I like your dad," he'd assured her immediately.  "I like him a lot.  Better than I like my dad, most of the time.  And yeah.  It's part of the cover story."

"You love your dad."

"Doesn't mean he isn't a jackass sometimes.  Most of the time," Jake had countered.  "But your dad isn't.  And I like him.  I liked him even when he wasn't so sure about me."

"I think my dad's just learned to pick his battles," she'd reminded.

"Well, yeah," he had agreed.  "Tommy." 

"Right," she'd giggled before heaving a relieved sigh.  "And my dad likes you, he just needed to meet you.  You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he'd confirmed.

"I'm glad it was just part of the cover story," she'd told him a beat later.  "It, uh… I was worried, I guess."

"I know, Babe," he had muttered, apologizing, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Not really," he'd grumbled.  "I just – I didn't want you to hafta be that involved in my cover, Heather.  It's my job, it's not your—"

"I want to be able to talk to you," she had interjected, an anxious note once again lacing her tone.  "I need to be able to talk to you.  So, that means I'll be as involved as I hafta be, okay?"  She'd paused for a half second, then had added quietly, "And I'm sorry that I messed up by mentioning the delivery."

Jake had been forceful in his reply.  "You didn't mess up.  I messed up," he'd insisted.  "And then how I tried to fix it – well, it works with aspects of my cover.  But that’s all part of the part that you don't need to be dealing with." 

"'Part of the part'?" Heather had quoted back at him, attempting to stifle a snicker.

"Yeah, 'part of the part'," he'd repeated, chuckling along with her.  "There's just – there're things we've had to add, just to kinda ratchet things up, get 'em moving.  There's a bunch of new analysts, who're assigned only to me – to my cover.  Straight outta college.  We call 'em 'The Triplets'.   They're the ones who need to deal with the 'part of the part' and worry about getting all the details right.  All the documents and records.  Babe….  You just need to talk to me and send me email," he'd decided.  "Tell me what's happening at home and at school and with Mom and Dad, April and Eric, everybody in Buffalo.  Especially Megan."

"Are you allowed to tell me all that?"

"Just did, Babe," he'd offered in return, the shrug evident in his tone.  "And what's Gretchen gonna do?  Fire me?" he'd scoffed.  "But I'm sorry that I made you worry, and I'm really sorry that you hafta be mixed up in all this."

"It's okay, Jake," she'd sighed, "I told you."

"Yeah, okay," he'd acknowledged before reiterating, "I like your dad, Babe.  Of course, I like your dad.  He's half the reason the most important person in the world exists."

"You're trying to distract me," she'd complained, though she hadn't sounded like she'd really minded.   "And I love you, too."

"Love you more.  And speaking of your delivery: you got it, right?"

"Yes," Heather had replied, her lilting tone transforming that one syllable into three.  "That's why – on the other call – I told you my dad had sent me the bracelet I already have.  That was a coded message I figured you'd get, Hon.  Because it's jewelry and it's sentimental."

"So, you like it?"

"I love it," she'd declared.  "And not just the star sapphire that matches my ring perfectly.  But the 'infinity love knot' too.  I love that even more."

"Well, that is what I was goin' for, you know.  Infinity.  Forever," he'd explained.  "That's the coded message I figured you'd get.  That I love you forever."

"Message received, loud and clear," she'd confirmed, giggling.  "And I love you forever, too.  Do kind of wish you were here to put it on for me." 

Heather had closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine how that would have gone.  To start, he would have smiled at her as he'd taken the jewelry case from her hand.  Extracting the necklace from its satin bed, he'd have stepped behind her, gathering her loose hair together so he could move it out of his way.  And there was no way Jake Green would ever pass up the chance to kiss the back of her neck, her shoulder, the juncture of both.  Then, pressing himself against her, he would reach around her, letting the pendant rest against her skin before fastening the necklace's clasp.  Finally, he would turn her around so he could survey his handiwork, perhaps adjusting the pendant to his satisfaction before enveloping her in his arms and bringing his mouth down onto hers.

"Me too, Babe," he'd murmured, interrupting her rather pleasant flight of fancy.  "Just bring it with you to Hawaii, and I'll put it on for you every night before we go to dinner, 'kay?"

"I will," she'd promised, still grinning to herself about her daydream.  "Even though that's a recipe for being late to dinner every night."

"We're gonna be on vacation.  Can't be late anywhere when we're on vacation," he'd reasoned, "Or it's not a vacation."

"Okay," she had caught herself nodding, "Actually, that is a very good point."

"Don't sound so surprised," he'd snorted.

"That's not—"  Heather had stopped, feeling flustered. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, Babe."

"And it's my birthday, you're not supposed to accuse me of being a know-it-all on my birthday," she'd admonished.

"Hey!  I didn't accuse you of anything," he'd defended himself.  "And you do know it all, so that wouldn't be an accusation, it would just be stating a fact."

Her "hmmm" had been noncommittal, but she'd perked up in the next instance when she'd informed him, "Well, I'm telling you now: since you're right, and it is a vacation, we don't hafta be anywhere at a specific time.  So, if we make dinner reservations and then blow 'em off, then I guess we just eat a lotta grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches.  I mean, grilled cheese or peanut butter," she'd corrected.  "Not peanut butter and cheese grilled together."

"I know."

"Good.  Now, the one exception is that I want you to take me to a luau.  And I bet those start at a specific time and that you hafta make reservations," she informed him.  "We hafta be on time for that, okay?"

"So, we officially have Hawaii requirements.  Got it."

"Yes, we do," she'd verified, giggling.  "And it only took me, like, ten hours."

"New record," he had teased.  "So, you do the research, pick out the luau that you wanna go to, and we'll go.  How's that?"

"Perfect, thank you," she'd murmured before adding, "And you hafta have fun too. Mister."

"I'm gonna have fun, Babe," he'd promised.  "I always have fun when I'm with you."

"I always have fun with you, too," she'd flirted back.  "And when we were talking about Hawaii at lunch, your mom said that going to a luau was a highlight when she was there with your dad."

"Pretty sure my parents never went to Hawaii," he'd returned, his tone skeptical.  "Dad doesn't like to leave town that much."

"It was before you were born, when your dad was in Vietnam," she'd explained.  "He had some leave and they met up there, kinda like we're gonna do.  They both said it was like a second honeymoon for them."

"Did not know that," he'd admitted.

"Your mom said it was an eye-opening experience for a twenty-one-year-old girl from Rogue River, Kansas," Heather had recounted.  "And she recommended taking walks on the beach and going to a luau.  And then your dad said that there's something about Hawaii that just inspires risqué thoughts," she'd giggled.

"My dad actually said 'risqué'?"

"He did.  And I survived him saying it, which is the really amazing thing."

"Man, somethin' must be goin' on with him," Jake had opined.  "First, he emails me about the whole Roman orgy story, and now he's talking to you about having 'risqué thoughts'?  Maybe we should be worried, 'cause isn't a loss of inhibition a sign of dementia or something?"

"Your dad doesn't have dementia, Hon," she'd chided.  "And I know you're mad at him, and you have every right to be, but—"

"I'm not as pissed off as I was, okay?  As long as he's not right."

"He's not, Jake," she had confirmed immediately.  "I miss you.  A lot.  But you are not neglecting me.  You are seriously not neglecting me," she'd repeated, listing, "Cake for breakfast, coffee for a year, the world's most ostentatious and amazing bouquet of roses, and a star sapphire necklace that literally says 'I love you forever'.  How the heck could I ever feel neglected?"

"Those're just things, Babe."

"Yeah, but things that you put a lot of thought into," she'd argued.  "And I appreciate that, so much.  So, thank you."

"Well, you're welcome and I'm glad you like everything.  Happy Birthday, Heather."

"Thanks," she'd answered.  "And… speaking of putting thought into something: I have an agenda for our last phone call tonight, and the second item on the agenda is to discuss rose color meaning.  Like the thought that prompted you to send me three dozen roses, and why exactly half of them are red, while the other half is half yellow, half white."

"Also known as quarters," he had reminded her.  "I'm kinda shocked, Mrs. Green.  I mean, multiplying fractions, that's right in your wheelhouse."

"True.  So, why exactly," she had pressed, "Did you send me a bouquet that is half red roses, a quarter yellow and a quarter white?"

You know all the meanings of rose colors, Babe." 

"There are multiple meanings, especially when you start mixing colors together," she had argued.  "I want to know what you meant."

"So, you said you've got an agenda, right?  And rose colors 're on it?  So, I'll tell you tonight when we get to that item," he'd promised.  "But now I gotta know, what else 've you got on this agenda of yours?" he'd demanded, teasing, "I assume you've got 'sweet talk' somewhere on there, right?"

"I do now," Heather had retorted, giggling.  "For sure.  And I also have 'flirt shamelessly' written down because Mandy told me to put that at the top of the list after I said I was writing an agenda in the first place.  She was so disappointed in me, but I told her it wouldn't surprise you."

"You're right," he'd agreed.  "Can't say that I'm surprised.  And I definitely think 'flirt shamelessly' needs to on there.  So do I get—"

"Ack!  Jake!" she'd yelped, interrupting him.  "I need to leave in, like, fifteen minutes," she'd decided.  "I really need to leave in five minutes—"

"Babe, April said your dinner reservation is for six.  You don't need to leave for an hour."

"Yeah, but they'll seat us at five-thirty if we're all there, so we're all gonna try and be there by then," Heather had explained.  "And I wanna get there early.  So – I kinda want to talk to your mom," she'd admitted.  "Before April gets there."

"Right," he'd acknowledged.  "Go take your shower," he'd ordered then.  "For at least ten minutes.  'Cause I'm gonna ponder you taking a shower for ten minutes, okay?"

"Maybe it's not so weird.  You saying 'ponder'."

"Maybe it's my new favorite word," Jake had joked.  "I love you."

"Love you, too.  Bye."

"Bye."

 

* * *

 

"He said he knew I'd get the coded message of this necklace," Heather continued as her mother-in-law peered closely at the pendant.  "That he loves me forever."

"I think you already knew that," Gail smiled, "But it's still good that you have this reminder to take with you whenever you want."

"Yeah," she agreed.  "I almost didn't put it on tonight.  But it is a nice reminder.  Along with my love letter."  Heather held her purse open, giving the older woman a glance of the envelope inside.  "I know it's silly that I want to carry it with me."

"It's not silly at all," Gail contradicted.  "Honestly, I would carry it with me too if this were thirty-five, forty years ago and Johnston had sent me that particular letter.  In fact, I had that very letter in my purse for about twenty-eight hours before I took it to the florists," she admitted, squeezing her daughter-in-law's arm.  "I wanted to be sure it was safe.  Because, Sweetheart, that is a love letter.  To you and to your future children.  Which is exactly what I told Jake," she declared.  "He thought it was funny.  Or silly, I guess."

"I called it a love letter, and he told me that you'd called it that, too," Heather sighed.  "He thought that was funny – that you and I both immediately called it a love letter.  And then by the end of our conversation, I'd gotten him calling it a love letter, but probably he was just trying to make me happy."

"I don't think that's it at all.  He means it, Honey," the older woman insisted.  "He's not just telling you what you want to hear."  Jake had said that that was what he was afraid of: that Heather would think he was agreeing to have a child because it was what she wanted, and not what he truly wanted for himself – for them as a couple; as a family.  But Gail had recognized the sincerity and the nervous excitement in her son's voice.   "He means it.  I'm certain of that.  And maybe coming around to saying 'love letter' is because he wants you to be happy, but he means it when he says he's ready to have a child.  Well, a 'kid'," she chuckled.  "He said he was afraid you wouldn't believe him if he'd said – written – 'baby'."

"He's probably right.  He's just always said 'kid'," Heather complained, allowing a small smile at the same time she shook her head.  "But there's a small chance that I may have found the one way there is to get Jake Green to say 'baby'," she admitted, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.  "Only time will tell." 

Gail – noting her daughter-in-law's suddenly uncomfortable expression – refrained from inquiring as to exactly how she'd convinced Jake to use the word 'baby', instead commenting, "Jake is much more comfortable with babies than I would have thought.  At the baptism, when we saw him with Megan, Johnston and I were both so surprised."

"I don't think he'd been around many babies before he met me," Heather offered.  "Dale and Bonnie, I guess—"

His mother had nodded in confirmation.

 "—but obviously no one ever made him hold a baby because the first time I made him do it – well, he told me he'd never had to hold one before.  And oh my gosh, he was pretty scared about it," she giggled.  She stopped herself and took a deep breath.  "Not that it's funny.  But it was a little funny."

"I would have probably thought that was funny myself," Gail offered.

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," she assured her mother-in-law.  "I was just holding Hannah, and then Mandy and Deb needed me for something, so I handed her off to him."

"It seems to have been good for him," Gail laughed.  "Clearly.  He seemed quite at home with Megan in his arms.  And it was such a wonderful thing to see."

 

* * *

 

She and Johnston had joined Heather and Jake in Buffalo on a whim.  Touched that Kerry had invited them – and had sent a handwritten note, explaining that she'd thought they might be interested in participating in this event that was not only important to the Lisinski family but also to their son – Gail still hadn't expected her husband to agree as readily as he had.  But Johnston had surprised her, telling her to book their plane tickets and making an offhand comment about how, maybe, one day they'd get to be the grandparents, but that for now, this was about the next, best thing.  Initially, Gail had worried that Eric would mind them abandoning him on his birthday, but he'd taken it in stride, and then he and April had decided to spend the weekend in Topeka with her parents, sisters, and nephew.   

It had been Johnston's first time in Buffalo, but as always, the Lisinski clan had been open and welcoming, accepting their presence without question.  And Johnston and Joe had been happy to renew their friendship, already well-established through email and a running internet dominoes match and nurtured through Joe's at least yearly visits to Kansas to see his daughter and son-in-law.  The weekend had been eye-opening for both Gail and Johnston.  Somehow at the baptism itself, Jake – rather than Heather – had ended up holding Megan while the priest had given his charge to them as her godparents.  Then, at the reception afterward, Jake and Heather had made their rounds, catching up with Heather's large, extended family, and all the while, little Megan had been tucked into the crook of Jake's arm.  Gail – and Johnston too – had observed all of this in silent amazement.

At one point a few hours into the open house, Joe Lisinski, catching John coming downstairs with his freshly diapered baby had insisted that he get his turn with his granddaughter.  Gail – who had been reading a book with Hannah and Gabby Lisinski – had listened in as Megan's two Grandpa Joes (Kerry's father was also named Joseph) had teased Johnston.

"You know, you really need to look into getting one of these for yourself, Johnston," Joe Lisinski had advised, pressing a kiss to the infant's forehead before transferring her into the other man's arms. 

"They're the best," Joe Burke had agreed, making a face at his granddaughter. 

"Well, hello there, Sweetheart," Johnston had crooned, jiggling the baby in his arms.  Getting her settled, he'd offered the other two men a slight smile.  "Lookin' forward to it," he'd told them.  "Not that my kids seem to be in much of a hurry in that department."

"I dunno," Joe Lisinski had returned, cocking his head toward the dining room where Heather and Jake were supervising a "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" tournament involving seven or eight kids.  "I think those two may just surprise us someday soon."

"And until then," Joe Burke had suggested, "This little girl seems to have more than enough smiles to share for three grandpas."

 

* * *

 

"I always find myself thinking about the future when Jake is holding a baby," Heather admitted, beaming at her mother-in-law.  "And obviously he survived holding a baby for the first time.  And now he's gotten pretty good at it," she giggled. 

"Not so much the future, Sweetheart.  Maybe right around the corner."

"I hope so," Heather sighed.  "But it also turns out that Mikey told him that if you're holding a baby or just generally amusing the kids, everyone figures you're already busy and they don't ask you to do other things," she explained.  "When Jake finally told me that, I realized just how long Mikey'd been getting out of stuff using that ploy.  I mean, he was only twelve and a half when Rebekah was born, so he's pretty much always been able to finagle out of setting the table if he wanted to."

"I've always found Michael to be helpful when I've asked," Gail defended.  She liked all of her daughter-in-law's family, of course, but Joe and Michael were the two she'd spent the most time with.  And having first become acquainted with Michael only about a year after his mother's death, she'd quickly recognized how he'd seemed to crave and soak up any motherly affection that came his way, hers included.  Certainly, Heather's younger brother occupied that same special place in her heart that held her sons, daughters-in-law, nieces, nephews, the Richmonds, Dale Turner, and many others.  "But I suppose I have seen him be given a pass because he was carrying someone piggyback in the moment."

"Exactly," her daughter-in-law declared, chuckling.  "Which is what Jake figured out for himself.  And he really is great with kids."  Gail couldn't help but smile at the wistful expression that had replaced Heather's blush.  "And with babies.  Even if he's sometimes allergic to the word.  He's going to be a great dad – an amazing dad.  And none of this 'okay dad' stuff," she grumbled.

"I told him the same thing," Gail said, smiling.  "Because he wants to be much more than an okay dad.  He wants to be a great dad.  Which I didn't always expect from Jake.  For Jake," she admitted, "And that makes me very happy."

"He's going to be," Heather insisted, smiling in return.  "I just know it."

"I agree," her mother-in-law said, reaching for and then squeezing her hand.  "And I suppose I should come clean and let you know that I read your love letter.  Jake said I could," she continued in a rush of breath, "He said it would be hard not to read it, and he wanted me to be sure that the whole transmission came through."

Heather nodded.  "That's okay.  I'm glad that you were the one who got it and not someone at the florists.  Not that they'd tell anyone, but still."  She took a deep breath and turned so she was facing Gail directly.  "One of the reasons I got here early was so I could talk to you about all of this," she confided.  "Before April got here.  I'm – I'm not gonna tell her right away, probably not before I go to Hawaii."

"I see," the older woman murmured in acknowledgment.  "Sweetheart, I don't—"

"She's going through a lot right now," Heather interrupted, "And it's all about not getting pregnant.  Besides, who knows if I'll get pregnant right away?  Maybe she'll still get pregnant first and it won't matter."

"I can understand that," Gail sighed.  "And even Jake said that he didn't think he should send that particular love letter through April.  Not that I minded being his accomplice in this instance," she repeated.  "But you do know that when you get pregnant, even if it's before April, she's going to be happy about it," she reminded her daughter-in-law.  "Happy for you and for Jake."

"I know," she acknowledged.  "But it's not like I'm planning to tell anyone else right now either.  Nothing has changed yet except that I'm not gonna take a birth control pill tonight," she declared, an obstinate note ringing in her tone.  "Or for the foreseeable future.  And I'm really not planning to tell anyone else," she repeated, the set of her mouth telegraphing that her mind was made up.  "I talked to Mandy for a really long time this afternoon, and I didn't tell her.  And I talked to Andy and Deb on the drive here, and I didn't tell them either." 

"Oh dear," Gail murmured, allowing a self-conscious chuckle.  "Well, I suppose I better just be up front and let you know that I told Johnston about the love letter.  Not the details of what Jake wrote," she assured her daughter-in-law immediately.  "But that you and Jake had been discussing having a child, and that Jake had sent me the letter so I could take it to the florists and have it delivered to you.  But I will be sure to swear him to secrecy as soon as I'm home tonight," she promised.

Heather's eyebrows shot up in question and amusement quirked her smile.  "Okay, but I can't actually imagine that he'd tell anyone.  And I know he wouldn't say anything to me."

"He won't," her mother-in-law confirmed.  "Johnston wouldn't want to risk embarrassing you.  He'll just be pleased as punch to find out someday soon that he's going to be a grandpa."

"Well, it might not be that soon," Heather reasoned, "I mean, I hope so, but….  I'm not really going to tell anyone else quite yet.    My dad next, probably, and I'll wait 'til I'm in Buffalo to tell him.  Which is another thing I need to talk to you about," she realized, her expression turning serious.  "I am, like, ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain I'm gonna go to Buffalo after Hawaii."  She paused, frowning to herself.  "I don't – I don't think I want to just come home after that, and I want to spend some time with Mikey, maybe help my dad take him to medical school.  I was going to go with them to move him into the dorm at Geneseo five years ago, but then I took the job here and instead he helped me move to Jericho.  Which – of course – I'm totally happy I did, but still."

"I'm very happy that you did as well," her mother-in-law smiled.  "And I think that is a great idea, Honey."

"And you're okay if I leave Baron with you for a month or five weeks?" Heather questioned, her tone doubtful.  "I don't want to put you out."

"An extra few weeks to practice being a grandmother to my grandpuppy?" Gail teased, "I'm happy to do it.  And I promise, I'm not going to be an overbearing grandmother or mother-in-law, but I am very excited about what's coming for all of us," she added, beaming at her daughter-in-law.  "Jake told me I wasn't allowed to be excited – that I had to act normal – until you got the letter.  I tried very hard to do as he asked, but now, I am just going to admit it: I am very excited.  So, I'll happily look after your puppy for you, for as long as you need."

"You're not overbearing," Heather denied, "You couldn't possibly be.  Not as a mother-in-law or a future grandmother.  And – at least for our kids – you're gonna be their only grandmother.  So, I officially request that you be prepared to be a doubly amazing grandma, okay?" she asked, giggling softly.

"I will happily take on that challenge," Gail smiled, chuckling along with the younger woman.

"Just maybe don't be excited in front of April," Heather cautioned, "At least not yet."  Her mother-in-law nodded, and she joined in, mirroring the gesture.  "And, honestly, I don't want to come home right after spending sixteen days with Jake, and be here without him, waiting to find out if I'm pregnant," she admitted, sighing.  "But if I go to Buffalo, I get to spend time with everybody – I get to be 'Auntie Heather' – and I think that'll be better, whichever way it goes."

"I think it's a great idea," Gail repeated.  "A nice distraction for you, especially the 'Auntie Heather' part.  Though you might not know you're pregnant quite that soon," she warned.  "I didn't know I was pregnant with the boys until I was more than two months along.  Of course, we had just moved to Jericho, and I was trying to figure out how I was going to set up housekeeping in a two-story, four-bedroom house, coming from our little three-room student apartment.  Sometimes, I think I got pregnant because I forgot to think about getting pregnant," she laughed.

Heather frowned at that.  "You'd been trying to get pregnant for a while?" she asked, "I just always thought you waited until you graduated KU and then got pregnant.  Like literally, you graduated and got pregnant."  She had heard her father-in-law's claim that Jake and Eric had been conceived over graduation weekend more than once.  He particularly seemed to enjoy dropping that tidbit into the conversation at those times when it was certain to cause the maximum amount of discomfort for both his sons.

"We weren't opposed to having a child while we were still at KU, that's all," Gail answered, mentally kicking herself for her slip of tongue. Unless and until it happened, there was no point in worrying about Heather and Jake having trouble starting their family, and the last thing she wanted right now was to send her daughter-in-law's thoughts – unnecessarily – down that unproductive path.  "Though in hindsight, I'm grateful that we weren't dealing with twins in that little apartment.  And no reason to believe it would have been twins if we'd had a baby earlier," she argued.  "Certainly, it – or they – wouldn't have been Jake and Eric.  So, it all worked out for the best."

"Definitely," her daughter-in-law confirmed.  "I don't like to think about the worlds where Jake doesn't exist.  But perhaps I'm a little biased," she joked.  "And Eric, too, of course."

"Well, I'm also a little biased," Gail declared, "And very much in favor of the world in which I got to be the mother of Jake and Eric.  And I was glad, too, that Johnston insisted that we buy the house we did.  I thought it was too large," she confided.  "It's bigger than the house I grew up in, and there were eight in my family.  But Johnston liked it," she continued, "Said we were going to fill it up with family," she sighed.  "Which we did.  And EJ insisted on gifting us the down payment, as a graduation present.  And, I think," she added a beat later, "As an added incentive to move to Jericho."

"That's probably where he got the idea for leaving us the ranch house, and paying off April and Eric's mortgage from," Heather realized.  "The precedent anyway."

"EJ has always been the most generous person I've ever known," Gail said, "With his family in particular.  And we'd been married more than six years by that point, so I thought I was used to how EJ was," she smiled.  "But I was still touched – astounded, really – that he would do that for us." 

"I can imagine," Heather murmured.  "That's how I felt when he invited us to live at the ranch."

"Well of course, because that's just how EJ was," Gail nodded.  "And I must admit, I was relieved that we were buying a house in town, and that Johnston was going to be teaching history, and not taking up farming," she confessed, emitting a wry chuckle.  "I wasn't sure I was cut out to be a farmer's wife.  I wasn't sure I was going to be a good mayor's wife either, but my overbearing mother-in-law was willing to coach me in that.  Probably so I wouldn't embarrass her."

"You are not overbearing," Heather repeated.  "I'm glad you're my mother-in-law, and just hope I don't embarrass you."

"Never, Sweetheart."

"And I know you must have thought I was being so melodramatic yesterday when I went on and on about how Jake wasn't ready to have a baby."  She groaned, closing her eyes.  "That is just so embarrassing."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise you," Gail told her.  "As for what I was thinking, well, I think that starting – having – a family is very important to you.  And your family with Jake – the decisions you two make about your family – are exactly that.  They are for you to figure out together.  Okay?"

"Okay," her daughter-in-law agreed.  "How overbearing of you."

"Well, I'm still going to insist on Sunday family dinner," Gail said.  "And I hope you will consider Johnston and me as your babysitters of first resort."

"Of course!"

"But other than that, you just let me – us – know when and where you need us."

"1-800-GRANDMA," Heather joked.

"Yes, I like that," her mother-in-law smiled.  "You know," she began a moment later, "When Jake was a little boy, about eight I think—"

A titter escaped Heather, halting Gail mid-sentence.  "Sorry," she apologized, "It's just this, like, inside joke between Jake and me."

"Yes?" her mother-in-law inquired, her expression a mixture of amusement and consternation.

"I always tell him he can't always be eight in every story he tells me about his childhood, that's all," Heather explained, shrugging.

"But I remember," Gail insisted, "And he was eight."

"And I believe you," the younger woman rushed to assure her.  "I believe him too.  Kinda.  I mean, I believe that he thinks he must have been eight.  But I also think he thinks I like eight-year-olds best of all.  Which is not true.  I like all kids," she argued.  "And I'm gonna love our kids.  I already do, and they don't exist."

That drew a smile from Gail.  "Me too," she murmured.  "And they will."

Nodding in agreement, Heather prompted, "So, Jake was eight."

"Eight and a half," his mother clarified.  "It was summertime – August – about a week after my birthday.  The boys' Little League team was in the championship game, and we were leaving the next day for the Grand Canyon.  That's how I know how old he was, by where we were heading for our summer vacation.  Anyway, Jake pitched the entire game, all six innings, and they won," she grinned. 

Heather grinned in return.  "Awww!  You must've been so proud."

"I certainly was.  And Johnston was maybe a smidge prouder than me," Gail chuckled.  "Johnston enjoys sports more than I do.  I went to games all those years so I could cheer for my boys, Stanley included.  If Dale were a sports kid, I'd still be over at the High School, cheering him on," she sighed.  "But Johnston, he paid attention to all of it – he understood in his bones Jake's accomplishment, and he was so proud of him.  Of Eric, too.  He got a run in that game, so we were proud of them both," she declared. 

"Anyway, we were in the car, headed home to Jericho – following EJ and Betsy – planning to all go for ice cream when we got back to town.  I had so much to do before we left in the morning, I figured I would be up all night, but I didn't care.  Johnston and Eric were chattering away, telling each other about every play in the game," she described, "And I looked back at the boys – at Jake – and he was just sitting there, trophy in his lap, looking mildly pleased about everything.  But honestly, he was barely smiling."

"So, I asked him if he was excited.  He'd just pitched a winning game!  Won the championship!" Gail recalled.  "He actually seemed confused by the question.  And I only wanted him to – to be proud of his accomplishment," she decided.  "Not even as much as we were, really.  But he deserved to be proud of himself.  And then he said to me, so quietly and seriously, 'I'm excited on the inside, Mom'."

"Oh my."

"I can still hear him saying that, twenty-five years – almost – later.  In his sweet little boy voice.  I never wanted my boys to stop growing up, but I was still sad when their voices changed," she admitted.  "And there was something about his voice when we talked on Sunday, about your love letter, that took me back to that moment.  He's excited on the inside.  And the outside.  He's just excited period." 

Heather's eyes were bright once more, but she made no move to wipe away the tears pooled there.  They were, as Gail had said, happy tears.  Smiling, she nodded.  "Me too."

"There's a bible verse," Gail started again.  "And I know that is quite the segue."

"That is a segue worthy of me," her daughter-in-law giggled.

"Truly," Gail returned, chuckling.  "But there's a bible verse that always struck my fancy.  And it's from the nativity story and I know the way I've taken it to heart, well, I've maybe taken some liberties with the theology, shall we say?  Anyway, here goes.  'But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart,'" she quoted. 

Heather's smile widened.  "I've always liked that one too," she confided, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing over her mother-in-law's use of the word 'ponder'.  There was no way she was explaining to the older woman how that had become a joke between Jake and herself.  "It's very lyrical."

"It is," Gail agreed.  "And I know that it's about Mary not fully understanding who or what Jesus was – and that's when he was still just a baby.  But it caught my ear when I was a teenager – long before I really thought about being a mother myself – and it struck me as a very good definition of motherhood.  The experience.  That raising children… sometimes all you can do is treasure your time with them – well, treasure them – and ponder it all in your heart." 

"I love that."

"So, one more segue," Gail confessed, "But then I think it all comes together."

"Okay," her daughter-in-law declared gamely.

"You probably do know what you were doing five years ago today," the older woman sighed, smiling when Heather confirmed her suspicion with a nod.  "But I can only make an educated guess.   It was a week – ten days – before Eric and April's wedding, of course, so Karen and I were on the phone fifteen, twenty times a day at that point.  It was also before we knew about what Jake was really doing with the whole Jonah Prowse debacle," she reminded, "So, I was worrying about him, pretty much constantly.  I was also trying to get ahold of him, and I finally did, the night before everything happened."

 

Gail paused, recalling how surreal that thirty-hour period had been.  She'd been phoning her son for days, only reaching his voicemail's system greeting time and again.  Finally, about nine o'clock on Sunday night, Jake had answered her call.  He'd been distracted, almost short with her, and that had stung her deeply.  Frustrated, she'd barked back at him, telling him that he'd better find a way to be at his brother's wedding or he'd never forgive himself.  "I put you down for the beef – prime rib, in fact – at the reception.  Even if you can't see that you need to be there, just come for the food."

"What's my plus one get?" he'd asked, annoyance coloring his tone. 

"Half your meal," she'd retorted, despising herself for the uncharitable thought she had had in that instance about the type of woman who would agree to be her son's "plus one" given his current circumstances.  "You haven't bothered to share your address with us, it's not like we could send you an invitation.  We certainly didn't include a 'plus one' for you in the planning."

"I'll try and be there, Ma," he'd muttered, a long, painful moment later.  "No promises."

"Goodbye, Jake," she'd returned, her throat tightening and choking off the words she had wanted to say – to remind him of: 'I love you'.

Twenty-nine hours later, in the Fillmore County Hospital ER, he'd fallen into her arms, croaking out, "Sorry, Ma, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jake," she'd crooned, holding his head to her breast, and kissing his hairline.  "You're safe, Jake.  I love you, Honey."

"Sor—sorry 'bout the other night," he'd mumbled, closing his eyes as she'd begun to comb her fingers through his hair.  "I'll be there.  Promise."

 

"But even once we knew that it was all just a – a set up," she decided, "I still didn't have hopes like this for Jake.  For Eric, yes.  He was about to get married, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to be a father, but I gave up on that dream for Jake.  At least for myself," Gail clarified.  "I made a bargain with God that if he'd just keep him safe, I didn't need anything else for Jake.  I was like you, Sweetheart, I just wanted him safe."

Biting her lip, Heather acknowledged this with a sharp nod, finally wiping her eyes as the tears spilled over. 

"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry," Gail tutted, digging into her purse again for the tissue packet.  She handed it to her daughter-in-law.  "I didn't mean to upset you.  I'm just so thankful that Jake – and you – get to have everything I was willing to bargain away if I could just have my son.  I thought that I could be content with the occasional phone call, knowing that at least he was okay.  I thought I could have lived with that.  I told myself I could live with that.  But I'm glad none of us have to."       

"I do want him to be safe, but I want all the rest, too," Heather declared softly.  "I want – I want Jake home most of the time, and I want to have babies who grow into eight-year-old Little Leaguers who win championships and trophies and then into teenagers, who'll probably mortify me at some point.  And I want Saturday morning pancakes and camping trips and date nights that you can babysit for."

"That last one is especially important," Gail joked, "At least to me."

"I knew you would appreciate that," the younger woman smiled. 

"I do.  And it's exactly what I want for you both," her mother-in-law assured her.  "For Eric and April, too."

"It's not selfish?" Heather asked, frowning softly.  "At least a lit—"

Behind them, the bell on the restaurant's door tinkled and they both looked over expecting to see April, instead spotting Gray Anderson, co-owner of S&A Mining, Jericho's largest employer and Johnston Green's opponent in the previous two mayoral elections.  He made eye contact with Gail, nodding in acknowledgment before Nona Rossi appeared to conduct him immediately into the dining room.

"Johnston thinks the closure of The Pizza Garden has put a real crimp in Gray's restaurant rotation," she confided in her daughter-in-law, chuckling.  "And it is hardly selfish to want to be a mother, Sweetheart.  Or for wanting to have your husband 'home most of the time'.  There is nothing selfish about having dreams and then working to make them a reality."

Heather nodded, offering Gail a small smile.  "Yeah, okay."

"If anyone was selfish, it was me, trying to bargain with God about Jake," Gail decided.  "Though, luckily, God didn't take me up on it."

"I don't think that was selfish," Heather argued.  "You were worried about him because you love him."

"Yes," her mother-in-law agreed.  "But that is where I think all my segueing comes together," she chuckled.  "I love him, and I've always wanted what was best for Jake – and for Eric – since, well, before I knew they existed."  The two women exchanged smiles, and Gail continued.  "But once Jake was working for Jonah Prowse, I was so afraid for him.  And that's where my bargaining came from, from worry and fear.  And that is selfish.  To give into that.  I know my son – my sons.  I should have questioned more.  I should have known that he hadn't turned his back on everything we'd taught him—"

"Jake's good at his job," his wife interjected.  "At least that's what he tells me," she grumbled.  "Sorry, that's another sort of joke we have.  Since I don't get to see him doing his job.  Ever.  But it was his job to fool you into believing he was that person.  So, if you were afraid for him because you believed it, then he was being good at his job," she reasoned.  Heather reached for the other woman's hand and squeezed it. "I know he hated it.  Having to lie to you, breaking your trust.  He told me about everything that had happened on our first date and how much he'd hated having to do that." 

"And yet you still went on a second date with him," Gail teased, though her smile flipped to a frown, betraying her mixed feelings.

"Yeah," Heather murmured.  "Well, I really liked him, so not much chance I was gonna turn him down.  And he trusted me with all of that.  It was pretty intense for a first date, but…." She trailed off for a moment before proclaiming, "Of course, I went out with him again."

"Well, I'm very glad you did.  And how about we agree that neither of us is selfish?" Gail proposed, tightening her grip on her daughter-in-law's fingers for a second before letting go.  Heather nodded.  "And I am so glad I was wrong.  Because there was a period of time there – a couple of months I'd say – that I was so relieved that he wasn't that – that person, that I forgot to hope for – well – hope for everything for him.  But I am so glad that you and Jake will get to build your family together.  And that I get to be the grandma."

"Me too!" her daughter-in-law giggled before clarifying, "That I'm gonna get to be a mom.  Not a grandma.  Not for a long time anyway.  And of course, I'm glad that you're gonna be my kids' grandma."

The restaurant's door opened again, the bell clanging this time, as April rushed in, calling out to them almost before she had both feet in the building, "Sorry I'm late."

Gail and Heather stood up, moving across the lobby to meet her in the middle.  "It's five-thirty-nine, you're in plenty of time," their mother-in-law decided, glancing at her watch.  "Besides, it looks like – so far – it's just us and Gray Anderson for dinner tonight."

"The Green women and Gray Anderson?  That sounds like a quirky title for a movie or a book," April joked as she pulled Gail in for a quick hug.  "And Happy Birthday, again," she continued, turning to embrace Heather.  "I see you got your big present," she teased, gesturing at the necklace her sister-in-law wore.

"I hope this is my big present.  And the last one," Heather groaned, her hand automatically moving to the pendant so she could trace the 'infinity love knot' with her index finger.

"It's absolutely gorgeous," April smiled.  "And it was the last thing I was involved in, so if there's more, I'll be just as surprised as you are.  But I did get to officially sign off on the fact that that is a beautiful necklace," she explained, "So Dalton and Sons could get paid."

"Thank you for that," Heather acknowledged.  "And I should tell you that you have won two-thirds to three-quarters of our bet.  He sent me three dozen roses, but only half of them were red."

"So, we're going riding on Thursday and Friday," April surmised.  "Good.  You're still joining us, right Mom?"

"For Thursday," Gail confirmed, laughing, "I'm going to need to wait and see about Friday."

Nona Rossi reappeared then, exclaiming, "Buon compleanno, Mrs. Green!  And you are all here, yes?" 

"Yes," Heather confirmed, adding, "And please, call me Heather."

Nona Rossi looked a little scandalized by this, reminding her, "But you are the teacher for my Matteo.  And next year for my Sophia," she said, naming two of her four grandchildren. 

"You're just going to have to accept it, Heather," Gail chided her daughter-in-law, chuckling.  "You are the main 'Mrs. Green' around here."

"I guess," the younger woman muttered, falling into step with April as Nona Rossi led the three of them into the dining room.

"So, what color were the other half of your roses?" April inquired, looping her arm through Heather's.

"Two colors," she answered.  "Overall, half red, a quarter yellow, and a quarter white."

"Intriguing.  What does that mean?" April wanted to know.

"TBD," Heather replied.  "Lots of potential meanings actually," she admitted, patting her sister-in-law on the shoulder as they arrived at their C-shaped booth.  She pulled away, sliding into the middle.   "But I've already warned Jake that we are discussing exactly what he meant during our last phone call tonight."

"Well, I expect a full report back," April informed her.  "Tomorrow.  Or better yet," she decided, glancing at their mother-in-law, "Tell us all about it on Thursday."

Heather nodded.  "I can do that."

"So," April continued, flipping open her menu, "What are we all having?"

 

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

 

Wednesday June 7, 1:37 am (Baghdad Iraq)/Tuesday June 6, 4:37 pm (Denver CO)

3 and a half months before the bombs

 

"You done?" Ange Waller inquired, peering closely at her laptop screen and the image of Jake Green displayed thereon.  He looked tired – exhausted, really – and he had just completed an obscenity-laden rant given in answer to the (in Ange's opinion) rather innocuous question of "How's it going?"

"No," he grumped before launching into part two, concluding some forty seconds later by barking the same curse (his favorite, she presumed) seven times in a row before shoving away from the table – away from his laptop's camera – and tipping his chair up on its back legs while crossing his arms over his chest.  "Now I'm done," he muttered.  "Maybe."

"Let me try a different question," Ange suggested.  "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Fucking hell, Ange, I fucked up and then I dragged Heather into it.  So now she's totally freaked out," he complained, letting the chair drop back onto its front legs with a loud thunk.  "But I fixed things with her.  I think.  I dunno," he mumbled, breaking eye contact, his gaze fixated on his lap.  "You know, when she was a kid, her brother Tommy taught her a hundred-fifty-seven-word curse?  So, now we have a deal that she can never tell it to me.  But goddamn, I'd like to know it right now."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'd guess you got pretty close on the word count," she informed him dryly.  "And I actually did know that," she added, "About Heather memorizing the curse to end all curses when she was a kid."

"How?" he demanded, his brow furrowing as he leaned back in close to the laptop.

"We're both only girls in large, Catholic families," she shrugged.  "Trust me, there's just something that pings in our heads when we meet someone else who grew up in that.  Pretty sure she told me that particular story, probably, thirty-six hours into our newfound phone friendship."

"'Newfound phone friendship'?" he quoted, smirking into the camera.  "That's Heather," he mumbled, "Loves alliteration."

"That was her," Ange agreed, "But I liked it, thought it was cute.  She was very worried about you getting home before your grandfather passed.  Which meant I was worried about you getting home before your grandfather passed.  And about going into labor before I knew you were headed home," she explained.  "Which luckily I didn't.  But anyway, 'newfound phone friendship' was a needed bit of levity.  As was comparing the worst things our brothers ever did."

"Christopher's birthday is February first?" Jake asked, "Or the second?"

"The first.  I refused to have a Groundhog's Day baby for many reasons," she returned, laughing softly.  "I told the labor and delivery nurse that, and she told us to start walking, so we did.  Up and down the hospital corridor for six hours.  He was born at nine twenty-one PM."

"And I made it home in time," he reminded her.  "With two and a half days to spare.  Gramps died on the first, coupl'a hours before Christopher was born.  He'd appreciate the symmetry in that.  The circularity, whatever."

"The circle of life?  Death and birth?"

"Yeah," he nodded, yawning.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened, Jake?" she prompted again.  "That freaked Heather out?  That's got you so angry with yourself?"

"I sent her three presents for her birthday, two that the other Jake Green could take credit for and one that he sure as hell can't afford.  And the one that he can't afford was bein' delivered to the house this afternoon.  I emailed her about it and said she should be home to get it," he explained in an achingly neutral monotone.  "I sent that email early this morning – early for her and you, I mean.  So then, I called her after school, after she got her second present – I sent her roses, but I always get her roses for her birthday – and we talked a long time.  I guess she lost track of time.  I did too.  So, she freaked out because she thought she was late to meet the delivery and she said that, but we were on my regular cell phone and—"

He broke off, heaving a frustrated sigh.  "Fuck," he muttered.  "I was able to cover for her.  I acted like she was hiding from me that her dad was sending her something and she played along.  I think it would make sense if they're monitoring my communications.  But still," he continued, his tone caustic, "Who knows?  Maybe I get to the yard in four hours, and someone puts a bag over my head and that's it."

"Do I need to pull you, Jake?" Ange demanded, her pulse racing.  They had been academy classmates, both trained for undercover work, but she had given up that career path when she'd gotten pregnant.  And she had never taken the type of long term, deep cover assignment that Jake had successfully managed more than a few times.  Still, there was a certain kind of gallows humor statement a covert agent would only make to another covert agent – to someone who knew what it was like to be in that situation – and everything he was saying could just be that.  Maybe he was blowing off steam.  The slip sounded innocuous enough to her, and he said he'd fixed it.  But it could also be more than that, and she had to figure out what exactly he was telling her – and if there was anything he wasn't telling her but should be. 

"You're in the safehouse – saferoom, anyway," she corrected, offering him a grim smile.  "You can just stay put.  It'll take me a few hours, but I can work with the Army to get you outta there before the end of tomorrow—"

"You don't need to pull me," he interrupted.  "It's under control.  Promise.  I've put a lot into this op.  I wanna see it through, Ange."

"I get that," she acknowledged.  "Just remember that my first responsibility is to get you home, so you can get to work on your very important project," she smiled.

"So, we might've finished discussing that, and moved onto the – I dunno—"

"Action phase?" she supplied, her grin growing.  "Good for you guys."

"Yeah.  More like pre-action at least, until….  But we're gonna see what happens in Hawaii," he allowed.  "That's where we're going for our anniversary."

"I'm officially jealous," Ange declared.  "Fishing in Montana has been postponed in favor of two weeks with Steve's sisters and their families in Rehoboth.  And somehow I said that with a straight face even though the first time I was east of the Mississippi I was twenty, and I sure as hell never knew Rehoboth was a real place until I had to."

"You sure it's a real place?" Jake returned, his expression turning quizzical.  "'Cause I'm not.  But you can't go by me," he conceded, "I'm just a kid from Kansas who didn't get to see the ocean 'til he was ten, so whadda I know?"

"Well, apparently you know that Rehoboth is a beach town."

"Must've read it somewhere," he deflected.  "And I hope you made her grovel, Ange."

"Not exactly," she sighed.  "But she called me and apologized and then issued a personal invitation.  Claimed it was meant to be when our vacation weeks and their weeks coincided.  Said that they all really wanted to finally get to know me.  And Christopher.  Which… they're his family, too, right?  So, we'll see."

"Just don't let her give you any shit," Jake advised, joking, "'Cause I'm pretty sure that's my job.  And if you hafta take it, you might as well get paid for it."

"Yeah, but they also pay me to shovel it right back atcha," she chuckled.  "Speaking of: sleep check?  Nutrition check?"

"Got five hours," he reported dutifully, "After eating the grossest vegetable medley ever assembled, okay?  Doubt it was nutritious, but it was the best I could do here."

"Okay," she declared, her tone shifting from chatty back to officious, "I not gonna pull you now.  But for me – actually, how 'bout we say 'for Heather'? – when you report in later today, keep your phone in your hand just in case, okay?"

On her screen, Jake nodded.  His unsecured phone was a regular cell phone with one modification; on the side, in the seam, there was a "panic button" he could trigger by pressing his thumbnail against it for five seconds should he ever need to summon the cavalry.  "Wilco, Waller," he said, throwing her a mock salute.  "And you know, I got my dental work ahead of this one.  Gretchen'd been after me for years."    

"I did know that.  It's in your file," she reminded him.  "The one that Gretchen turned over to me when she turned you over to me."

The previous December, ahead even of acing the job interview with Ravenwood, Gretchen had insisted that he finally get his molar implant.  It wasn't foolproof by any means, but it provided one more last-ditch option for retrieving him if things really went south with the operation.  "Just like Lo-Jack," she'd told him, as had the dentist who had performed the procedure, although that man had at least followed up with: "Not really, but it's a good analogy."

"Yeah, so, I did it," he muttered, "And now…."  He trailed off, looking away from the camera, shaking his head.  "They're pulling this damn thing out as soon as I'm home," he informed her. 

Ange saw his cheek bulge on the right side and guessed that he'd run his tongue over the offending addition to his mouth.  "That can be arranged," she assured him.

"This is my last operation," he told her, his gaze once again catching hers across the miles that separated them.  "Where I'm the one in the field at least.  I could maybe—"  He shook his head again.  "I can't – I won't do this to Heather again, and besides we're gonna try and have a kid.  You should be there for your kids," he insisted, frowning.  "You can't just tell a kid that you'll see 'em in three or four months, right?  Five months," he muttered.  "So, once I'm not here, I don't wan' it.  You guys don't get to keep tabs on me forever."

"Once you don't need it, I will personally make the arrangements to remove it, okay?" she promised.  "I mean, I won't personally remove it, but you know what I mean.  I'll make sure it gets scheduled.  And I hope the Wallers are still invited to visit the Green Ranch.  Which is not about keepin' tabs, I swear.  It's just about the fact that we're all friends."

"Yeah, you're still invited.  I haven't told Heather yet, but she'll be all over it.  You're her 'newfound phone friend' turned 'real-life and on the ranch friend'."

"And that was some halfway decent alliteration," she grinned. 

"Well, I've had some practice," he chuckled.

"You would've," she acknowledged.  "Okay, I have another update for you on how we get you outta there in a hurry if we need to.  So, I've spent the last week making nice with Chief Warrant Officer Cabrillo.  He's not technically under Browning's command, but Browning's a Colonel, so there's still some deference there because he knows what's good for him.  Now Cabrillo – he's the JAG legal administrator over military police operations – he already had his suspicions about Ravenwood before Browning read him in, basically as you were arriving in Baghdad back in March.  And he was more than a little pissed that we've been running this op without him.  But once I explained that we were happy to work together – had been wanting to work together, but Browning maybe doesn't want to believe this is really happening, so….  Well, now I'm his new best friend.  Because he wants Ravenwood and Jennings and Rall outta Iraq – outta the whole damn Army if he can manage it."

"He's the one who's gonna come running if you hit the panic button," Ange continued, "Him, specifically.  And, if he needs to extract you in front of Ravenwood – hell, if he needs to storm in and grab you up before they can maim or kill you – well, that's what he's gonna do.  Plus, arrest you for drug trafficking.  So now, he and I are both keeping tabs on you from afar.  Phone.  Molar – but only if necessary.  And I'm glad to have him on the team, 'cause he's just a whole lot closer if something hits the fan." 

She watched as he assimilated this information.  "I don't hate it," he allowed, exhaling a long breath.  "Kinda like it, actually.  Preserves a lot of the op, even if I'm blown."

"You wouldn't really be blown, right?" she offered.  "The Army takes a problem off of Ravenwood's hands and thanks them for their help in catching one low-level drug dealer.  Cabrillo's already practicing his speech for that.  Says he can 'blow smoke up the asses of a bunch of contractors with the best of 'em'," she laughed, shaking her head.  "I have almost as much fun talking to him and I do talking to you." 

"Oh, so now you're two-timing me, huh?" he joked.

"Yeah, but still, everything I do, it's all for you," she returned, rolling her eyes.  "Gretchen and I are even thinking we might go through the motions of charging Fake Jake—"

He groaned loudly at that, stopping her mid-sentence.  "Never say that again," he ordered gruffly.  "And – so you know – that's exactly why you're not allowed to talk to my wife until this is all over.  'Cause you don't get to accidentally say that to her."

"'Fake Jake'?" she guessed, laughing quietly.  "C'mon.  You can't seriously think that hasn't occurred to Heather at some point," she reasoned.

"Hey, it surprises the hell outta me too," he claimed.  "But she's never said it to me, and trust me, there's no way if she'd thought of it, that she wouldn't have said it.  And as soon as she does think of it – or someone tells her – well, I get to spend the rest of my life talking about 'Fake Jake' and 'Not Fake Jake'.  Trust me on this," he repeated.  "It rhymes.  She'd never not think that wasn't the funniest thing she'd ever heard."

"You do know her best," Ange shrugged.

"On the deepest level," he murmured, the tension in his expression easing as the corners of his mouth turned up with the smallest of grins.  "Okay," he declared, nodding to himself.  "Military police take custody of me and transfer me back to the States and somehow get enough interest from the US Attorney to bring federal drug trafficking charges against me?  For penny ante stuff?  That's not exactly plausible."

"It's plausible enough," she countered.  "As a contractor, they can't charge you – the other you – under the UCMJ, and there isn't a state court with jurisdiction.  They aren't gonna throw you into the not exactly functional Iraqi court system, right?  So that leaves federal court.  Trust me, Cabrillo would find a way to make it happen if you really were some low stakes drug dealer.  You come home, and in the meantime your alter ego—"

"Fake Jake," he muttered.  "You can just say it.  'Fake Jake'."

"Only if you're sure," she replied, earning herself a not entirely amused snort.  "Okay, so Fake Jake is charged, pleads down to eighteen, twenty months, so there's a paper trail.  Maybe you hafta make a court appearance or two just in case Ravenwood is curious enough to send one of their lawyers to federal court.  And it's not you, it's—"

"Fake Jake," he repeated.  "And okay.  Long as I don't hafta serve his sentence."

"As if," she retorted.  "Gretchen and I take better care of you than that.  But hopefully, Ravenwood and J and R will just be glad that the guy they never actually got around to recruiting into their conspiracy is gonna take the fall for them.  Maybe it makes them a little more cautious for a bit. Gives us all time to take a deep breath before we start working on getting someone else in there," she told him.  "And hey, maybe you can handle that guy.  The new operative."

"If I can do it from Kansas, sure."

"And if your arrest makes 'em cocky because they're carrying out this giant smuggling operation under the Army's nose—"

"Using Army personnel," he added.

"Right," she agreed.  "But they've got this big operation going on and the Army scoops you up for some two-bit drug peddling that was – as you said – so penny ante that Ravenwood never even noticed that you were doing it?" she scoffed.  "That'd make anyone a little cocky, and we both know that criminals are more primed for cockiness than the general public."   

"Okay, I think this works," he decided, nodding his head in agreement.  "And thanks, Ange, for making nice with Chief Cabrillo, lining all that up.  And for keeping me in the loop."

"You're welcome," she assured him.  "Besides, it's my job and we're friends, right?  I'm not gonna let Cabrillo storm in and arrest you without warning you.  Even if – and this is really funny and really weird in the 'it's a small, small world' category of federal service – because it turns out that Cabrillo and my oldest brother, Al, went through basic training together at Fort Sill twenty-three years ago.  Somehow, during our first videoconference, he recognized me as Al Beltran's little sister Angie who he met once – when I was ten – back in the day.  I'm guessing he's one of those 'super recognizers'.  I mean, he apologized for knowing who I was.  Which was nice, because – frankly – it was a little creepy."

"Good skill for someone in law enforcement to have," Jake suggested.

She shot him an appraising look, inquiring a few seconds later, "Any chance that's a skill you have?"

"Sometimes," he conceded.  "Not sure I'd always recognize someone I'd only seen once when they were a kid, though.  Maybe I'm just a really good recognizer."

"Well, it is a good skill for law enforcement," she repeated, assimilating this piece of information into her mental profile of Agent Jake Green.  It made sense, she decided, in a surprisingly unsurprising way. 

"And maybe explains why he's running military police for all of Iraq," she continued, forcing herself to turn her concentration back to their conversation.  "I called Al up the other night to get the scoop.  Didn't give him any details of course, but he figured that I must have an asset on the ground.  He's in SIGINT, so it’s still really funny to him how similar our jobs turned out to be," she chuckled before adding, "Claims that when I was seven, I said I wanted to grow up to be him and now I have.  Anyway, Al says that Cabrillo is a straight shooter and that I can trust him.  We can trust him."   

"Well – haven't met your brother, but still – that's good enough for me," he declared, nodding absently.  He closed his eyes for a second before inhaling deeply.  "And I'm sorry for earlier," he apologized, blinking, his gaze unfocused.  "My goin' off.  All the cursing."

"You needed to vent.  And listenin' to you vent is part of my job."

"Right, but I still shouldn't swear at you," he returned.  "Heather'd kill me—"

"First, I didn't think you were swearing at me," she interrupted him.  "I know you're just frustrated with the situation, and especially that you got Heather tangled up in it and that she was worried she'd done something wrong.  Right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then; you were venting," she told him.  "And second… are you callin' me your work wife, Jake?" she teased, observing the frown that he quickly suppressed by pasting on the tightest and slightest of smiles.  Jake Green, she remembered belatedly, for all his flirtatious friendliness, truly was a one-woman man.  Improbably, and so unobviously, he was a wife guy. 

"I don't think you're my work wife," he countered, "You're more like my work April."

"I'm not sure what that means," Ange laughed, "Especially since it’s June, but okay."

"April's my sister-in-law.  Married to my brother, and Heather's best friend," he explained.  "My friend too, though for April, Heather comes first.  She'd totally slit my throat in a heartbeat," he declared, his tone almost approving, "If she thought that was best for Heather."

"Well, let's just agree that slitting your throat is always a last resort," she suggested, "Because I'm putting a lot of time and energy into to keeping your throat un-slit."

"Thanks," Jake yawned.  "And the 'in Heather's best interest' is the part you hafta keep in mind."

"As long as you keep it in mind, I think we're both good.  And I actually did know who April is, just not in that context," she informed him.  "And I hope I can live up to being your 'work April'."

"Doin' pretty good so far," he assured her.

"Thanks," she returned, just as she heard the small conference room's electronic door lock disengage.  They had a few of these ultra-secure videoconference rooms for meetings such as this one, and the room's lock was pre-programmed to only allow those invited to the meeting to enter.  The light over the door flashed in warning, confirming that the person on the other side was authorized to attend.  "Someone's joining us," she told Jake.  "Informal debrief over, official one about to begin."

"Well, I guess then we should stop talking about how Gretchen is my work mom," he announced loudly.

The door opened in time with Jake's declaration, admitting Gretchen Tolliver to the space.  She appeared unfazed by his teasing, rolling her eyes for Ange's benefit.  "Put him up on the screen if you would," she directed.  "It's been so long since I've laid eyes on my darling boy, after all."

Ange stood up, leaning over her laptop to reach a cable in the center of the table.  She plugged it into the VGA port, and instantly one of the two screens at the front of the room flickered to life, providing them with a larger than life-sized view of Jake Green.  The other screen also turned on, as did the cameras in the ceiling, giving them a view of themselves inside the conference room.  Someone had – helpfully – taped a hand-lettered sign above this screen that said: "They See This!"

"Jake, you look awful," Gretchen informed him, frowning as she seated herself across the table from Ange. 

"Nice to see you, too, Ma," he snorted in return. 

"I've met your mother, Jake.  I take the comparison as a compliment."

"Well, you should."

"And you still look like hell," she complained.  "You need to let us take more off your plate."

"I'm trying," he insisted.  "All the stuff that Ange and the Triplets have come up with is great.  We're runnin' with it, and tomorrow, I'll start laying the groundwork to kill Gramps off again.  And a month from now I'll be on my way to Hawaii.  I'll rest up there, okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what you're planning to do in Hawaii," the older woman chuckled, shaking her head at him.  "So, I take it we're discussing how Ange is your work wife?"

"Actually, I'm his work April," Ange interjected.  "You know that Jake only has room in his heart for one wife."

"That is true," Gretchen agreed.  "And April's the sister-in-law, so that's still high praise."

"I am here, you know," he called out, waving a hand at the camera to get their attention.  "I mean I can hear you."

"We're not allowed to admire the fact that you have good relationships with your female relatives?" Gretchen inquired.

"Apparently not," Ange decided, observing his scowl.  "Okay, Jake," she continued, checking her watch, "My kid gets here in ab—"

"Christopher's joining us?" Jake interrupted, seeming to perk up at this news.  "He still gets his corndog, right?  I'm kinda invested in him getting that corndog for dinner.  And the ice cream sandwich."

"He gets to have the corndog and the ice cream sandwich, I promise," Ange returned.

"Neapolitan?"

"Of course," she laughed.  "If I'm gonna resort to feeding my kid junk food, it's gonna be good junk food."  Ange glanced at their boss, explaining, "Originally we were going to do this call at six, and I was going to be at home—"

"Jake, do you mind having Christopher Waller in attendance for this meeting?" Gretchen inquired, cutting the other woman off.  "Sorry, Ange," she added only to have her apology waved off.

"Ange said I'd get to say 'hi' to him tonight, so he needs t' be here, right?  Besides, I've drafted all the Wallers onto the team," he answered.  "Steve's been consulting on some of the – uh – the financial documents the Triplets have put together."

"Yes, I know," Gretchen returned, offering a slim smile.  "And we appreciate the intra-agency cooperation, just as long as it's not followed up by the poaching of my analysts."

"He knows what happens if he tries," Ange assured the older woman.  "And Jake distracted him by inviting us to visit so Steve can learn about the horse business and maybe play cowboy for the day."

"For a week.  And I'm gonna get you and Christopher up on horses, too," Jake told her.

"Thanks, I think," Ange chuckled.  "But he is going to be here any minute now, so if you have any more venting to do, now's the time.  Mostly because my husband will never let me live it down if Christopher is f-bombing his aunts next month," she explained, "But also because the Triplets will be joining us, and I don't want you scaring them off.  They're excited to meet you.  You're like a folk hero to them.  Like Robin Hood or Viggo Mortensen's character in Lord of the Rings."

"Aragorn," he supplied, deciding, "I'm done venting."

"See?  I knew you were a closet nerd."

"Wha'-e-'er," he yawned into his hand before shaking his head as if to clear it.  "Don' you need t' get your kid?" he grumbled. 

"Oh, Mellie's picking him up for me," Ange dismissed.

"She can do that?" Jake asked, rolling his eyes at the twin amused grins he received in response.  "What?" he complained, "I'm married to a teacher who's gonna be the vice principal, I've heard about … it's important – it's important to – ya know – have a pick-up policy."

Ange's grin widened.  "'The importance of a pick-up policy', huh?" she teased, emphasizing each 'P' sound.  "I'm sure you've heard all about it."

"Heather's been promoted?" Gretchen added, "That's great news.  Please pass along my congratulations.  She always has been a smart cookie."

"Thanks," he acknowledged, blinking rapidly.

"You know, Ange," Gretchen began, catching the other woman's eye.  "The first time Jake told me about Heather—"

"She blackmailed me," Jake interrupted, drawing both women's gazes back to the screen his image was displayed on.  "Gretchen," he clarified, making a loud huffing sound.  "Not – not Heather."

"You blackmailed him?" Ange repeated, throwing the older woman a skeptical look.

"T' – to get me t' tell her about Heather."

"He'd been threatened with arrest at the Wichita airport, and I'd vouched for him," Gretchen explained.  "In the course of vouching for him, I became aware of the fact that he had a girlfriend.  Since I'd been awoken at five-thirty in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving, it seemed entirely reasonable to ask him to tell me about the new woman in his life.  And it was hardly blackmail.  I called him at least forty-five minutes after he was released from custody.  He didn't actually have to tell me anything."

"Yeah, right," he snorted, momentarily allowing his eyes to close.  "She said she knows what t' do – how t' – 'cause she's a teacher."

"I did think that someone who can manage a classroom of eight-year-olds likely had a good chance of being able to handle Jake Green," she confirmed.  "And I think I've been proven right.  They were engaged not even two months later.  I'm certainly not surprised that she's been promoted to vice principal."

"It's kinda a promotion," he muttered, "Kinda not.  She's still gonna be a teacher, jus' for eighty percent.  Vice principal's twenty percent."

"Still sounds like a promotion to me," Ange offered.

"Yeah, no, it is," Jake agreed, forcing himself to sit up in his chair.  "Just the no money, helluva lot more work kind.  But it's what she wants to do," he shrugged, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Well, I'm sure Heather is up to the challenge," Gretchen said.

"Yeah," he repeated, stretching his arms above his head.  "And Mrs. McVeigh – she's the principal.  She was principal when I was a kid.  She's gonna retire in a coupl'a years, so…."

"So, then they'll probably pick Heather to be principal, right?" Ange deduced.  "That's what you guys are hoping for, right?"

Jake nodded.  "That's the idea.  She needs to be principal before our kids get there or I'm gonna hafta take 'em to my cousin's wife's Janine's school, and that's twenty miles away."

"Ranch email Janine?" Ange inquired.  She glanced across the table at Gretchen, explaining, "If I need to leave Jake a voicemail on his cell, I'm going to be Janine Jones, his other favorite cousin.  Besides, Mellie, I mean."

"Always better to preserve a grain of truth," Gretchen nodded.  "But you don't want to go with Janine Gr—"  She cut herself off.  "No, I suppose not."

"It's Janine O'Brien, but we don't need to complicate things," Ange shrugged.  "And the next closest elementary school is twenty miles away?  Seriously?"

"Small town," he mumbled, his head tilting to the side for a second.  "You'll see when you guys come," he promised, allowing another yawn.  "Janine's kids go to her school, an' she's okay about it.  But Heather doesn't wanna do that.  Conflict of interest.  So…."

"She's probably right about that," Ange offered.  "That's sounds really awkward.  And, like, something out of Little House on the Prairie.  Being your own kid's teacher."

Slumping in his chair, Jake nodded.  "Like I said, small town.  My brother's vice mayor 'cause my dad's mayor.  An' okay for our kids to go to school if she's the principal, but not their teacher.  Hafta call her 'Mrs. Green'," he chuckled to himself before falling quiet for a long ten seconds.  "I bet she makes me do all the teacher meetings too," he realized, unknowingly cutting Ange off.  "Yeah, that'll be me," he frowned, "Just in case someone she's the boss of needs to deliver bad news."

"Heather's afraid that another teacher isn't gonna tell her your kid is failing math if she's there?" Ange chuckled.  "She's gonna know about it eventually."

"Our kid'll never fail math," he contradicted, shaking his head.  "English, if he takes after me.  Art if he takes after Heather.  Math should be good."  Jake's forced his bleary gaze to focus on his laptop's screen, taking in the bemused and indulgent expressions of his two colleagues.  "What?" he grumbled, glaring into the camera.

"I'm simply enjoying this glimpse of your supportive husband side, Jake, that's all," Gretchen claimed.  "It's something we don't see a whole lot of in our line of work."

"Kinda hard to be a s'pportive husband from seven thousand miles away," he countered.

"Understood," she acknowledged with a sigh.  "But that's why we're holding this strategy session.  So that we can wrap up this phase of the operation and get you home and you can be supportive from no miles away."

Jake scrubbed his hand over his face.  "September, Gretchen," he reminded her, allowing his eyes to close for a few seconds.

"Agreed.  End of September," his boss returned. 

"Not wha' we agreed."

"I know.  And perhaps we can re-evaluate in August."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, trying – and failing – to stifle yet another yawn.

"Would it help if you had some caffeine, Jake?" Ange questioned, frowning in sympathy.  He'd seemed fine when they had first gotten on their call.  But he'd been fired up then, ready to – needing to – rant, angry at himself and the situation he'd put Heather in.  He'd been in the middle of an adrenaline rush, she realized, and now he was coming off it, his energy starting to flag.  It was clear to her that he was exhausted, much as he'd reported to her in the self-assessment that she'd made him take the week before.  "There's supposed to be a 'stocked fridge' there for you, though I never did check into what 'stocked' means."

"Yeah, there's usually soda in there," he admitted.  "I jus' stick to water here, 'cause … the heat," he explained, lifting himself out of his chair.

"It would be helpful if you were awake for this meeting," Gretchen reminded him kindly. 

"Gettin' a soda, okay?" he grumbled moving out of the camera's range.  "And hey, if you gonna look into it, get me some good peanut butter."  Jake re-seated himself, uncapping a bottle of Coke as he did.  "Not the stuff that Ravenwood brings in for food service," he clarified, taking a swig of soda.  "Good peanut butter."

Ange nodded, promising, "I'll see what I can do.  Or – rather – what Cabrillo can do."

"So, I hear that you'll be talking to Heather after this meeting," Gretchen said.  "I'm glad that you were able to arrange that."

"I'm gonna surprise her with another Skype call," he confirmed, adding, "From here."  He waved his hand around, indicating the room he was sitting in.  "So, if that's not okay, you should've tol' me last week.  I'd've gone home for her birthday."  He punctuated this by tilting his head back and gulping down a third of the bottle.

"I'm willing to risk Heather knowing what the interior of our Baghdad safehouse looks like," his boss informed him.  "I think our secret is safe with her.  And sorry, Jake," she apologized.  "But I'm not planning to fire you today or any day.  You are much too valuable of an asset.  Even if this is your last field assignment, I want you on the team."

He frowned at that, holding the bottle, forgotten, an inch from his mouth.  "I can't – I can't think – plan – that far ahead, Gretchen."

"I understand that," she assured him.  "Just know that when the time comes, we should figure out something that works for all of us, okay?"

"'Kay," he murmured, finally taking another drink of his soda.  "But right now, all I can think about is this meeting, talkin' to Heather, an' that I hafta go t' work in four, five hours."

"We don't have to have this meeting," Ange argued, shooting Gretchen a look that was apologetic but also insistent at the same time.  "Maybe you should just get some sleep—"

"I'm fine, I slept," he countered.  "An' Heather's out to dinner for two hours prob'ly and I don' wanna ….  Let's jus' … just keep going.  I've done it b'fore."

"Well, maybe we keep the meeting small," Ange suggested.  She had set up this strategy session at Gretchen's insistence, but the other woman had to be seeing what she was seeing in Jake: pure, unadulterated exhaustion.  "I can always excuse Jamie, Jessica, and Justin."

"Who?" Jake asked, finishing off his soda.

"I believe you know them as the Triplets," Gretchen supplied.  "And we can—"

"Nah," he denied flatly.  "Can't disappoint the kids, they think I'm Paul Bunyan or somethin'."

"They have been working on their summary of your ratcheted up financial difficulties all day," Ange admitted.  "Really looking forward to presenting it to you."

"And please try not to refer to them as 'kids' or 'triplets' once they join us," Gretchen requested. 

Jake nodded.  "Yeah, okay."  He pressed his hands into the table, pushing himself up and announcing, "I'm gonna get another Coke."

"Good thinking," Ange praised, spotting the tell-tale flash over the door.  "Someone's joining us," she announced, just as the door opened and her son, Christopher, followed closely by Melanie "Mellie" Carlton, entered the conference room.

The toddler, spotting his mother, chirped out an enthusiastic, "Hi Mommy!"

Ange pushed her chair back and moved around the front of the conference table, scooping up her child and pressing kisses to the side of his head and neck.  "Hi Baby," she murmured, smiling at him, before accepting his backpack from Mellie.  "Thanks for getting him."

"Hey, Christopher and I are buddies, you know that," Mellie shrugged.

Jake had re-seated himself and – for now – looked reasonably alert (much to Ange's relief).  He waved at the camera, grinning.  "Hi Christopher!  Your mom's gonna give you a corndog for dinner, 'kay?  And ice cream."

The little boy turned immediately shy, hiding his face against his mother's shoulder.  "It's okay, Christopher," Ange soothed, jiggling her son.  "That's my friend Jake," she continued, pointing at the screen.  "He even came to our house to see you, and he's the one who gave you Jay Jay," she told him.  Glancing at the screen (and the room's cameras) she added, "He absolutely loves that thing."

"Jay Jay!" Christopher exclaimed, suddenly all smiles.

"Heather picked it out, but she lets me share credit," Jake admitted.  "I'm glad you like Jay Jay, Buddy."

"Jay Jay is actually in his backpack right now," Mellie offered.  "And hi Jake, it's nice to see you too."

"Hey, Mellie," Jake greeted, once again waving at the camera.  "Wasn't ignoring you, cuz," he teased.  "Promise."

"Yeah, yeah," she returned, taking the chair next to Gretchen while Ange settled Christopher in the chair next to hers on the other side of the table.  "How's it goin' Jake?"

"Uh, okay," he mumbled, taking a sip of his soda.  "Two in the morning and still ninety degrees out prob'ly.  And – you know – it's my wife's birthday."

"I know.  That sucks.  Tell Heather 'Happy Birthday!' from me, okay?"

"And thank you for not giving your more fulsome answer to that question," Ange chuckled, letting her hand rest on her son's head for a moment as she helped him extract his Jay Jay Jet Plane toy from his backpack.

Christopher held the toy plane up for all to see, again calling out, "Jay Jay!" 

"You're welcome," Jake returned, drinking some more of his Coke.

"Speaking of Jay Jay," Gretchen said, "What's the ETA for Jamie, Jessica, and Justin?"

"We went by to check on 'em," Mellie responded immediately, saving Ange from having to.  "They said they'd be five minutes at most.  Just putting the finishing touches on their slide deck.  And that was at least three minutes ago," she decided, checking her watch.  "They're very excited, you know.  And they know we call them the Triplets.  They kinda like it."

"And here they are," Ange announced as the light above the door began to flash its warning.

"Best behavior, Jake," Gretchen warned, though her tone was joking.

"Yes Mom," he quipped, not missing a beat.

The three analysts seemed to come through the door as a single body, pausing just inside, staring wide-eyed at the screen at the front of the room.

It was left to Ange to make the introductions.  "Jake, this is Jamie Evans, Jessica Stuart, and Justin Webber.  Jamie, Jessica and Justin, meet Senior Special Agent Jake Green."

He offered them a wave before saluting them with his soda bottle.  "Hey.  Glad to have you on the team."

The three analysts – all sporting navy blue blazers and grey slacks – stood gaping at the screen, stunned silent in their admiration.  The one in the middle, after a long pause, managed to squeak out a "Hi!"

"You know you guys can sit down," Jake suggested nearly a half minute later.  He watched as Ange, Gretchen, and Mellie exchanged amused glances amongst themselves, forcing himself to take another long drink of his Coke in order to hide his own grin and chuckle.

"Please," Gretchen agreed, turning in her seat, and pointing the three analysts toward chairs.  "Let's get started."

 

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

 

To be continued (and concluded) in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 11.

 

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and if you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

 

The song that Heather accuses Jake of (accidentally) quoting is Just the Way You Are by Billy Joel.  It was first published in 1977 on his 5th album, The Stranger.

If you are interested in reacquainting yourself with the first time Jake held a baby, it is chronicled in Different Circumstances, Part 14B.  He really was rather terrified.

"Hungry, Hungry Hippos" is tabletop game for 2 to 4 players in which the player whose hippo "eats" the most marbles, wins.  The game was first sold in 1978 and was a favorite of my childhood.  Although Megan Lisinski's baptism was much later (January 2006) I am sure that the game was also a favorite of the Lisinski clan, and so John and Kerry would have had a version of it at that time.

Michael Lisinski obtained his undergraduate degree in Biology from SUNY Geneseo, which is just over an hour from Buffalo.  As Heather explains to the Greens in Different Circumstances, Part 5C, her father and Mikey helped her move to Jericho from Buffalo in early August 2001.  Mikey moved into a dorm at Geneseo later that month, after returning to Buffalo from Jericho.

"But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart," is Luke 2:51.  The version Gail is quoting is from the New American Standard Bible.

Heather and Jake's first date is chronicled in Different Circumstances Part 4. 

Rehoboth is Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  It’s a well-known beach town on the east coast, but kids who grew up in the west (such as Jake, Ange, and me) might not hear of it until they are in their early-to-mid-twenties.

Jake's cellphone panic button and mysteriously trackable molar are mostly from my imagination.  I did a little research and then tried to write about them vaguely enough so as to not disturb my readers with a whacko theory. Lo-Jack is a real thing; it is a stolen vehicle recovery system that utilizes GPS and cellular technology to locate a stolen or missing vehicle. 

Super recognizers are people with significantly better than average facial recognition ability.  Super recognizers are able to memorize and recall thousands of faces, often having seen them only once.  It is estimated that 1% to 2% of the population are super recognizers, and some super recognizers do a better job at facial recognition than computers as they can recognize faces over time, such as being able to pick out an adult in a crowd after seeing a picture from their childhood.  I am not a super recognizer, but like Jake claims for himself here, I am a pretty good recognizer, and I have freaked a few people out in the past by recognizing them.  Now, I mostly keep it to myself when I occasionally run into someone I went to elementary school with.

The DEA's videoconference room and Baghdad safehouse are also from my imagination and experience (just the conference room!) combined with a few things I have read in books or seen in TV and movies.

Robin Hood is a legendary heroic outlaw originally from English folklore, and then recorded in literature and film.  Per the legend, he was a highly skilled archer and swordsman.  He is famous for stealing from the rich in order to give to the poor.

Viggo Mortensen's character in The Lord of the Rings is in fact Aragorn (aka Strider) is a character in The Lord of the Rings novels and films.  Aragorn is a Ranger of the North, as well as the heir of Isildur, an ancient King of Arnor and Gondor.  Viggo Mortensen played Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings films directed by Peter Jackson and released between 2001 and 2003.  Heather and Jake were both looking forward to the release of the first film in the early parts of Different Circumstances (Heather tells April as much in Different Circumstances Part 7A.).  Due to a number of plot twists I threw their way (including Jake coming down with the flu in mid-December 2001 and Heather needing to go home for Christmas) I assume they weren't able to see the film until after they were engaged and had returned from Buffalo where they had travelled so that Jake could meet the Lisinskis. 

Paul Bunyan is a giant lumberjack and folk hero in American and Canadian folklore.  He is known for his superhuman labors and originated in the oral tradition of North American loggers. 

Gretchen's grilling of Jake regarding Heather takes place in Different Circumstances, Part 13B.

Ange's reference to Little House on the Prairie is somewhat is now officially a running joke in the Different Circumstances universe.  In Different Circumstances Part 7A, when Jake confronts Emily to tell her to leave Heather alone, Emily tells him that Heather is: "Like Little House on the Prairie wholesome.  And you, Jake – you're you."  Jake responds to this by saying: "You know what?  Wholesome's really workin' for me."  Then – later – in Different Circumstances Part 8A, when Jake showed up unexpectedly to accompany Heather to church, she told him: "Jake, seriously, you don't have to take me to church.  This isn't Little House on the Prairie."  

Jay Jay the Jet Plane is an American live-action and CGI-animated children's television series that aired on The Learning Channel and PBS Kids.  The series' 62 episodes were released between 1994 and 2005.  As with most children's shows, a line of toys was produced featuring the show's characters.  However, I'm not sure I believe Jake when he claims that giving little Christopher Waller a Jay Jay toy was all Heather's idea.  For some reason, I think he might have had a vote on that gift.