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A special thanks goes out to Skyrose, my wonderful Beta reader.
Chapter 11, Part B: The Age Old Question
Heather’s face hurt from smiling and she was fairly certain she was going to be bowl-legged, but she wouldn’t have traded that afternoon spent on the horses for anything in the world. Though the sun was starting to be obscured by the clouds that were rolling in, casting shadows on the landscape around them, Heather was able to estimate it to be nearly five o’clock. Yet it had seemed like only minutes had passed rather than hours. They would have to leave soon, as soon as they groomed the horses, tended to them otherwise, and removed the heating elements from the hot water heater. The latter should, Heather thought, be fairly simple, as they’d already let the water drain from the unit.
And then it would be back to reality.
But what was reality? What was she going to do? She couldn’t live with the Greens forever, but her options were limited. Currently, she had no job to speak of. School wasn’t in session, but even if it were, Heather doubted that she would be welcomed back with open arms. Tensions still ran high between Jericho and New Bern—as evidenced by the assassination attempt earlier in the day—and Heather was concerned that people would look at her with suspicions.
And then there was Emily.
Some part of Heather understood why Emily acted as she did. Emily had once described growing up as trying to survive a dog-eat-dog world. Emily was, at heart, a good person. Of that, Heather was convinced. Nevertheless, Heather did have to acknowledge that part of Emily’s more recent foray into respectability, particularly since her engagement to Roger, was based upon the fact that she could afford to be nice. Yet when the chips were down, Emily reverted to what she knew—and what her father, either through words or deed, had taught her worked when it came to matters of the heart. For as much as Emily talked of hating her father, Heather couldn’t help but notice that they both had the same gritty determination. But regardless of what influence Jonah Prowse may have had on Emily, Heather couldn’t overlook the fact that at some point, Emily made her own choices. And one of those choices involved making misleading statements to try to direct Heather away from Jake.
Heather wasn’t sure what would happen with Emily. She didn’t even know what to say to her friend anymore. When she stopped and thought about it, hurt and anger coursed through her, but other than that, she had some other less clear cut feelings. Heather loved Emily, but she didn’t like her very much at the moment. At the same time, she felt bad for Emily and the fact that her actions reeked of desperation. So, no, that situation was far less than clear cut.
What Heather did know beyond a doubt was that she was absolutely crazy about Jake. She’d been fighting her feelings for him since she’d left for New Bern, all the while trying to talk herself out of feeling anything for him. Returning to Jericho had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but at the end of the day, she was left with this thought: there may have been innumerable uncertainties in her life, but her life seemed much brighter with him in it.
Heather found herself looking over at him. He was ridiculously handsome, to be sure, but there was something else that drew her to him. ‘Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ That was what Emily Bronte wrote so many years before, secreting away lines of prose and the dreams for her life that she let pass before her eyes. Heather didn’t want to let him pass before her eyes with so many things unsaid. But did she have the right to want more than friendship with him?
Jake sensed her gaze upon him and rewarded her with a lopsided smile. When he looked at her like that, she dared to hope that he felt the same way for her as she felt for him. She had some inkling that he did; otherwise, why would Emily have been so threatened? But knowing there was an attraction and acting on it were two different beasts. And with everything so up in the air with Emily…
Heather frowned. Twenty years. They’d been together off and on for two decades. They were two kids who’d grown up together, loved one another, fought like cats and dogs, and still kept coming back for more. Jake had turned to Emily as a source of comfort and strength after the death of his father. Surely that spoke to the trust Jake was willing to put in her. But then why, after all that time, didn’t they have their acts together? Jake had made it exceedingly clear that he and Emily were not getting married. So if they weren’t moving toward that, why were they together exactly? Was it habit? Gravitation toward shared misery? Sex?
Heather gripped Apollo’s reins more tightly.
Jake noticed Heather’s grip on the reins, reminded of how she’d gripped Charlotte’s steering wheel earlier in the day. The wall was coming up again; he could perceive it as though it was a tangible barrier. He could see it in her posture, in the set of her jaw, in the expression of her eyes.
That afternoon had been one of best of his life, not for its complications, but for its simplicity. They were just two people who enjoyed one another’s company. They’d done nothing out of the ordinary—just exercised the horses. But Jake had found himself reveling in the easy laughter, the gentle teasing, and the goodness that was Heather Lisinski. Jake hated to see it slip away from him, but the closer they came to the barn, the closer they were to returning to the demands and problems that awaited them in Jericho.
Problems were nothing new. They’d existed before the bombs, and they’d existed since. Only the variety and severity differed. Jake remembered the time the Tacoma River flooded in the spring of 1988, the hours upon hours spent sandbagging, and how the county had been declared a disaster area. When the Kansas Emergency Management auditors came, Johnston had quickly become aggravated with the bureaucrats who gave flowery promises and lacked common sense. His dad had muttered under his breath, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help.' Damn well wish Reagan wasn’t right 90 of the time.”
At least back then, they hadn’t needed to worry about the motives behind the help that arrived, just the execution of that help. Now, when Jake thought of Beck and his assertion, “The nightmare is over. Order will be restored,” Jake couldn’t help but feel apprehensive.
The thought of relying upon the Cheyenne government for their needs troubled Jake, but that was what Jake observed more and more. If what Hawkins believed was true—and too many things seemed to be pointing in that direction—the Cheyenne government was responsible for the attacks that wiped out twenty-three cities and killed millions of people. Indirectly, the attacks had a hand in the deaths of many more, including his father.
His father.
Jake swallowed hard thinking of him. He was a bear of a man, and he would know what to do; he always did. Jake couldn’t say that in times past he’d always appreciated his father’s certainty, his rigid stance on issues, but the man had some things going for him that few did. He was decisive, quick to assimilate information, and he had integrity.
Jake wasn’t foolhardy enough to think that every decision came easily to his father; in fact, he knew they hadn’t, but Jake would’ve given anything to have his father here. It worried Jake when he thought how willing Gray Anderson was to let the military have the run of the town. He wasn’t sure if it was fatigue or stupidity that prompted Gray’s lack of discretion. Nevertheless, Jake could almost hear what his father would tell his successor. ‘There’s no such thing as a hero on a white horse. Jericho’s got to learn to be self-reliant, Gray. To sit back hoping that Cheyenne is here to help, that it’s somehow them who will make things right, is to go on feeding a crocodile. You can hope that he’ll eat you last, but you’re guaranteed that sooner or later, he will eat you.’
No, Johnston Green had not believed in big government and had been, in general, hesitant to put his trust in government programs or subsidies, something that many would have found ironic as he was involved in politics for the better part of his life in one capacity of another, first as the son of Mayor E.J. Green and then as mayor himself for a quarter-century. His father would’ve found a way to keep them from being beholden to Cheyenne, but now that the genie was out of the bottle, what was there for them to do?
Jake didn’t have any immediate answers, but he planned to get them. Tomorrow, he would go to Beck and accept the position of sheriff. He would ingratiate himself with the Army if that meant he could keep tabs on what they were doing. The time would come when Hawkins would call again, need something again. Jake only hoped he was in a position to keep himself and those he cared about safe.
Those he cared about…
Jake’s thoughts returned to Heather. He wanted her to be safe, for her to be okay, but there were so many things that suggested she was otherwise. Her comment about the lack of bloodshed earlier in the day and the look that passed between her and Eric had Jake troubled. His brother knew something that he didn’t, and Jake wanted to know what it was. If he did, perhaps he could help Heather get beyond what happened in New Bern.
Whatever was happening between them now was so new, and Jake couldn’t help but be almost overwhelmed by the intense feelings she elicited. It was akin to being hit by a brick wall, only it was infinitely more pleasurable to be near Heather. Some part of him felt like he was being granted a second chance, and he had no intention of squandering it, not like he had before.
Jake still remembered the way his father had reamed him out for letting Heather go to New Bern. It had been nothing in comparison to the way he’d reamed himself out ever since. When he thought she’d died…
Did he have the right to feel that way about her? He’d asked himself that question more than once since her return. As maddening as Eric had been earlier, Jake had to admit to himself that his brother was right. He couldn’t have it both ways. He couldn’t expect to spend time with Heather and maintain a relationship with Emily, not feeling the way he did.
And then there was Emily. The night before, she had compared their relationship with a hamster wheel, always moving but going nowhere. Jake had to concede that she was on to something. He didn’t regret having been in a relationship with her in the past, but he wondered if their most recent incursion into chartered territory was out of habit and the need for familiarity. Why, in the ten plus years that they were old enough and had opportunity to get married hadn’t they? What held them back?
Emily made it clear what she needed from their relationship, but Jake wasn’t ready to make the leap she wanted. If Heather hadn’t come back, would he have been willing to go in that direction with Em? Almost as soon as the notion entered his mind, he knew the answer to it. No. The same issues that drove them apart time and time again still existed, no matter how much they tried to sweep them under the rug.
But there were new issues. Jake still couldn’t fathom what in the hell Emily was thinking by trying to—what?—scare off Heather? Heather was his friend, first and foremost. She had next to nothing left of her existence before New Bern. For Emily to try to hurt her, to try to unsettle her more when she’d already lost so much, infuriated Jake.
So, yes, when they headed back to Jericho, they were headed back to trouble. But for now—for now Jake Green would revel in simplicity. “Penny for your thoughts,” he offered, noting the look of intense concentration on her features.
They had the barn in sight, and Heather had enjoyed herself so much, she didn’t want to delve into her less-than-pleasant thoughts with him. Maybe someday it would be a discussion they would have, but for now she was content to take pleasure in the day. Heather’s expression softened into a smile. “This afternoon has been so much fun. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed so much.”
“You? Didn’t think it was possible, but I’ve laughed so much my face hurts,” he replied.
Her heart did a little somersault.
Once they got the horses groomed and settled in the barn, they headed back for the house. The atmosphere was changing. Literally. They could see it in the way the wind picked up and the speed at which the thickening clouds rolled. The sun was now obscured, and a chill replaced the warmth they’d felt earlier in the afternoon.
“Looks like rain,” Jake commented.
“Who needs The Weather Channel when I’ve got Jake Green with me?” she teased him.
“That obvious?” he grinned back.
“So what are our chances?” Heather asked.
Jake looked up at the sky. “Fifty percent chance of rain.”
“How do you figure that?”
“It’s either gonna happen, or it’s not.”
“I don’t think weather forecasts work that way,” Heather protested as she climbed the steps of the ranch house’s front porch.
Within a few minutes, Heather had removed the heating elements from the hot water heater and had closed up the control panel. A small part of her felt glum about removing the piece from E.J.’s house. So long as everything was in place, it gave the semblance that it was a home rather than an empty house. But now with the way things were happening, she suspected that there would be more of this. How long before the place was completely taken apart?
She sighed slightly at the thought.
When she walked back into the living room, she saw Jake standing at the fireplace mantle looking at the photographs. He appeared to be lost in thought.
“I love seeing the photographs,” Heather commented. “Here and at your mom’s home.”
“It’s your home, too, now,” he commented. “Don’t think my mom is going to let you go easily.”
She shook her head. “I don’t plan on overstaying my welcome.”
Couldn’t Heather see that she was just what the doctor ordered for his mom? To have someone else in the house to ease the lonely hours would be exactly what she needed. Other than his father’s time in Vietnam, his parents had spent precious little time apart. It was a readjustment for his mom, an adjustment that Jake was convinced would come more easily with Heather around. And then there was the small matter that he didn’t particularly want her to leave, either. “It’s been hard on her since Dad.” His voice trailed off.
“Not just on her,” Heather said softly.
Jake Green wasn’t a man who particularly enjoyed talking about his feelings. His philosophy was when you felt something, you had two choices: either act on it or bury it. But neither felt appropriate now. If Jake were to act on his feelings where his father was concerned, he would’ve already been to New Bern and taken out Constantino. At the same time, he couldn’t bury his grief either, though he had certainly tried with Emily.
So for the first time in longer than he could remember, Jake actually found himself wanting to share his feelings. He had the sense that if anyone could understand the myriad of emotions he had, it would be Heather.
“It’s strange, but I think a lot about him and imagine the way it used to be. When I get home, I halfway expect him to be sitting in his chair trying to hide some type of snack food before he realizes it’s me, not Mom, and I’m not the diet police.” His dark eyes held onto something in the distance, something intangible but seemingly present. “She was afraid he’d die of a heart attack.”
“They were together a long time.”
“Nearly forty years. She always wanted to take care of him, and he acted like he never wanted to be fussed over, but we all knew he loved the attention from her. Always did.”
“That’s a long time,” Heather said softly seeking out Jake’s gaze.
A wry smile curled on his lips. “They had a secret to their success.”
Heather glanced at the mantle, seeing an old photo of Johnston and Gail from what looked to be a Christmas celebration from the mid-1970s. On Gail’s face was a look of surprise, on Johnston’s, a look of mischief. Heather wondered what had happened while the picture was being made to elicit the expressions. “Love?”
“That—and my mom was always right. I still remember my dad pulling aside Eric the night of Eric’s bachelor party.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “Eric? Eric had a bachelor party?”
Jake chuckled. “Very much in keeping with his personality, I assure you. We went to New Bern, played 18 holes of golf, came back here, and drank ourselves into oblivion at—ironically—Bailey’s. I think Eric was pretty wasted after about two and a half shots.”
Heather nodded slightly. That did sound like Eric, so she doubted Jake was censoring the events of the party for her benefit. “So what did your dad say to him?” Heather asked.
“He said, ‘Son, there’s something you need to know about marriage. It’ll be one of the toughest things you ever do, but the best piece of advice I ever received came from my father. The two most powerful words in the English language, the two words that can move mountains, are ‘yes’ and ‘dear.’” Jake’s eye gravitated toward the poplar beams on the ceiling. “Sometimes I think I hear his voice in my head, offering advice and unsolicited opinions.” He looked back down at Heather. “Does that make me crazy?”
“No. It makes you human.” She wished she could take away the pain of losing his father. Nothing could ease that for him, nothing but time. Reaching out, she placed a hand over his heart. “Hey,” she began soothingly, “he’s still here, Jake. Not in the way we would want, but he’s here. The lessons he taught you and Eric, the good men you are, the leadership he gave to this town. That is still here.”
Jake placed his hand over Heathers and their fingers intertwined. He found himself marveling. How did she do it? How did she always seem to know exactly what he needed?
Jake took a deep breath as they pulled apart. “Have the parts?”
Heather looked down at the elements. “Yeah. A cure for cold showers. Guess we should get going.”
Watching Heather walk out the front door, Jake wasn’t convinced that fixing the hot water heater would be the end of his cold showers, but who was he to argue? He fished the house key from his jeans pocket and followed Heather, closing and locking the door behind them. As they stepped off the covered porch, they were met with large drops of rain, the first heralds of what looked to be a substantial storm coming.
“Looks like you were right,” Heather commented.
And then the skies opened up. A torrent of water came forth, eliciting a little squeal from Heather, which in turn made Jake chuckle as the two picked up their pace and ran to Charlotte. Both got in, Heather in the driver’s seat, Jake in the passenger’s seat.
Heather reached into her pocket, pulled out the truck key, and placed it in the ignition. The truck’s engine began to turn over, but then seemed to sputter out. Heather winced and leaned her head back against the seat. “You’re not going to be happy with me.”
“Pop the hood, and we’ll take a look at it,” Jake replied as he reached for the door handle.
Heather shook her head. “I already know what’s wrong with it. Distributor cap is cracked. Water’s getting in; it’s not going to start.”
Jake heaved a sigh, uncertain whether it was from relief that they’d be staying put longer or frustration that the truck wouldn’t start.
Heather shifted in her seat and looked at her would-be passenger. “Sorry. I’d been meaning to replace it. I even had the part, but I went to New Bern. The cap was in my apartment, and I now have no apartment.” She turned back around to look out the windshield. “Guess I don’t have a cap, either,” she added sardonically.
“It’s fine, Heather. When the rain stops, we’ll get a rag to wipe out the moisture.”
“So great weather oracle, how long do you think that will be?”
Jake wiped the hair plastered to his forehead away from his face. “Long enough that I think we should go back inside and get dried off.”
Heather nodded. Truth be told, she was starting to feel quite cold sitting in the truck, soaked to the bone. “Good idea.”
With urgency that would’ve made the Wicked Witch of the West proud, the two exited the truck and made their way back to the house. As Jake unlocked the door, Heather cinched the waist line of her shirt and squeezed it, a futile attempt at wringing out the excess water. Already, puddles were forming in the low-lying areas in the field. Heather imagined the Tacoma River, which had looked so serene and clear earlier, was now a rushing, muddy mess.
The house, though a respite from the rain, was getting increasingly darker inside. Nevertheless, Heather couldn’t miss how Jake’s simple gray t-shirt clung to his body. Seeing him there, hair dripping, soaking wet, reminded her of the time she saw him after he’d just emerged from a shower at the medical center. She appreciated his body, hard, lean muscled. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so cold anymore.
“I think I might’ve left a few things here,” he stated. “I’ll try to find something for you to put on.” Jake watched as Heather still tugged at the shirt she wore, obviously feeling uncomfortable. She may as well have been in a wet t-shirt contest for the amount of coverage her shirt was giving her in its current incarnation. Jake certainly didn’t mind the view, but it would make it easier to…well, it would just make everything easier if he could get her off his mind.
“Thanks,” she replied.
Jake began down the hall to his old bedroom and motioned for Heather to follow. Once inside, Heather could see that the room was fairly small. It housed a twin sized bed, a small desk, and a chest of drawers. Model airplanes were suspended from the ceiling.
He shook his head apologetically. “Not much has changed in here. That’s what I’m counting on.”
Pulling open a drawer, he saw a strip of pictures on top of some folded clothes, pictures taken in a photo booth. Before Heather could make out the subjects in the pictures, he hastily pushed them aside and retrieved a sweat shirt imprinted with Embry Riddle across the front and a pair of sweat plants. “They’ll be big on you,” he brought the clothes to his nose, “and smell a little musty, but at least they’ll be dry.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Heather said as he handed them to her. He pulled a t-shirt and old jeans out for himself.
“You can change in here. I’ll see to getting a fire started. Make it warmer in here, and maybe we can start getting our clothes dry.”
When Jake left the room and closed the door after him, Heather peeled the wet garments from her body—her long-sleeved t-shirt, her soaked jeans, even her undergarments. She put on the sweatpants, pulling the drawstrings tighter. Still, the pants were loose. But as the old saying went, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She brought the sweatshirt over her head and down her body, pushing up the sleeves once she had it on. Even if the clothes smelled as though they’d been in the drawer for years—which they had—Heather couldn’t help but revel in the thought of wearing Jake’s clothes. It was somehow very intimate.
This room was a glimpse into Jake’s past. Some of the things within were juvenile in nature, like the models, but as Heather glanced at the bookshelf, she noticed some rather complex textbooks and flight manuals. And then there was the strip of pictures that he had pushed aside and left in the drawer. An intense curiosity came upon her. Gently, she pulled open the drawer.
Her eyes widened. Jake and Emily. How young they looked. How happy. The top picture of the trio of pictures featured the two smiling prettily at the camera. His arm was draped around her shoulders, and they looked so content. The second picture was the requisite goofy-faces picture that most people felt compelled to do in the photo booths. Emily’s cheeks were sunken in and her lips protruding as though she was a fish. Jake, on the other hand, had rolled his eyes back in his head so that only his eye whites shone. The last picture featured the two engaged in a kiss.
Guilt, mingled with sadness, washed upon her just as thoroughly as the rain water had. The two people in the pictures looked so incredibly carefree. Their whole lives were ahead of them, full of possibility, full of promise. But what followed was a mountain of heartache, an on-off relationship that left neither of them feeling whole. Wishing she hadn’t invaded Jake’s privacy, she closed the drawer.
Heather collected her wet clothes and left the room, determined that the next time she was privy to snippets of information about Jake, it would be because he offered them, not because she was snooping. As she went out into the living room, Jake was coming into the house carrying pieces of what looked like broken furniture.
“Firewood supply is nonexistent,” he explained, “but luckily Gramps wasn’t one to throw things out.” Jake dropped the wood pieces on the floor and sat on the hearth. He reached up into the fireplace and opened the chimney flue. When he brought his hand back down, it was black with soot. He wiped it on his wet blue jean leg.
“Know where any matches are?” Heather asked.
“Try the kitchen. Drawer to the left of the sink.”
When Heather came back with the matches, Jake was already positioning the wood in the fireplace, along with what looked like torn pages from a Sears catalog. “Perfect timing,” he said when she passed him the book of matches. Within a few seconds, the catalog pages were burning, and he was watching to see if the wood would catch fire.
“I think there are some hangers in the closet of my old room,” Jake offered as he allowed himself a glimpse of Heather who stood in his too-large sweat shirt and sweat pants holding her wet clothes.
She nervously bit her lip. “I can just wait until we get home to let these dry,” she replied. “But I’ll be happy to get some hangers for you for when you change,” she added.
Jake tore more pages from the catalog and tucked them under the wood in the fireplace. “You afraid I’ll see your underwear?” The corners of his mouth began to turn up.
Heather’s face grew warm. “I’m not… afraid,” she began to rationalize. “I just…wow! Check out those pants,” Heather said pointing at the catalog he held in his hand. “He is really styling in that plaid.”
Jake glanced down. “He looks ridiculous. And you are changing the subject. C’mon, I’m going to see your underwear sometime.” Her mouth fell agape. “Because we live in the same house,” he added. “I do help with laundry from time to time.”
“Gail made you and Eric learn?”
Jake nodded, “The hard way. Pink was my color for awhile.”
“I am being silly, aren’t I? It’s just underwear, and it would be good for it to dry…” Her lashes lowered slightly and a mischievous smile curled upon her lips. “When you hang your clothes to dry, I guess we’ll be answering an age old question tonight.”
“And what’s that?” Jake asked.
“Boxers or briefs?”
Jake’s right eyebrow shot up. Heather certainly was full of surprises. Just when he thought he was on the verge of having her figured out, she said or did something that completely floored him. She gives as good as she gets, he realized.
He recovered quickly. “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.” A quick smile filled his features, letting Heather know he was teasing her back.
She found herself chuckling in response. “As tempting as it sounds…”
Jake laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m quitting while I’m ahead!”
Her hands went to her hips, in the process flinging her wet clothes again herself. She quickly pulled them away. “Who says you’re ahead? It looks like we were playing a game of chicken, and I didn’t blink.”
“You’re mixing up your games.”
Heather’s bottom lip extended into what Jake thought was seriously close to a pout. “You got me there,” she admitted. Casting her gaze on the fire, she added, “Looks like you have your fire.”
Jake nodded. “I’m gonna change. I’ll bring back some hangers, and then we can scavenge the pantry.”
“What I wouldn’t give for some nice, fluffy marshmallows,” she said softly, mostly to herself as Jake left the room. Fleetingly, she thought back to her little apartment and how she loved to roast marshmallows in the fireplace using an old coat hanger she had managed to semi-straighten. She’d tried to keep busy all day, hoping to avoid her thoughts, but they were boomeranging back on her.
Everything that tangibly showed who she was burned in that apartment. The structure wasn’t particularly important to her other than the fact that it provided shelter, but it sheltered her entire past. She couldn’t go back to the parish house in New Bern to feel close to her parents; going back would be like painting a bull’s-eye on her chest and calling out with aid of a megaphone, “Here I am, come get me.” The photographs, the other mementoes, every little object that tied her to Matthew and Rose Lisinski, every relic that proved that they had existed and that they mattered to her, were gone, save for one small picture of her father.
She needed to be doing something—anything—to get her mind off her circumstances. But what was she to do with her time? How did she pick up and carry on when literally her whole world had come down around her?
‘One step at a time,’ she answered herself. ‘Take everything as it comes, just like you told Jake. Concentrate on what you can do rather than what you can’t.’
She’d told Jake that his father was still with him through him and his brother, through the good that he’d done for Jericho. Did she carry on her parents’ legacy as Jake and Eric carried on Johnston Green’s? Heather only hoped that if her parents were still alive, they wouldn’t have been disappointed in her, in the choices she made in New Bern and in the choices she made now.
She pulled the ponytail holder from her hair and ran her fingers through her strands, a futile attempt to brush it sans an actual brush. Water dripped from it, droplets running down her back, drawing a shiver from her.
Craving heat, she drew closer to the fire. The blaze appeared to be dancing, the flames flickering and causing a warm glow to fill the increasingly dark room. Heather could hear the sound of the rain on the roof and, she thought, the rumble of thunder in the distance. This place wasn’t home, but it felt good being there. She looked back to the recliner and could remember Jake’s grandfather sitting there, his packet of chewing tobacco on the end table, along with a tin can for the tobacco juice he spat out. Back then, E.J. had told her, “I know it’s bad for me, but at my age, what do I care? A man’s got to go sometime, may as well go doing what he loves.”
Jake was inextricably tied to this place, almost as much so as E.J. Green. Maybe someday when things settled down, when they were back on their feet again, he would make the ranch house his home.
If he didn’t get himself killed first.
Heather couldn’t even begin to imagine living as Jake did. He put himself on the line for Jericho more times than she could count. She couldn’t decide if he was foolhardy or heroic. Perhaps it was a combination of both. Heather sighed, remembering once again what she’d told him before she left for New Bern. Who was she kidding? Jake Green was an adrenaline junky. He needed, he craved, danger. She was not hazardous to him.
Jake, wearing holey jeans and a dry t-shirt, came back into the room carrying hangers and socks. “Thought you might want these, too,” he explained giving her a pair of socks to wear.
“That’s very sweet of you,” Heather replied, slipping on the socks. They, too, were big, but they provided warmth for her feet. She arranged her clothing on the hangers he brought, while he did the same with his. When she was done and had hung the hangers on the mantle, she felt more comfortable. She’d managed to mostly obscure the view of her undergarments. From the corner of her eye, she could see what Jake was hanging, and she had her answer to the age old question she’d teased him about earlier.
To be continued in Chapter 11, Part C...