Author’s Notes: A special thanks goes out to skyrose, my ever-talented Beta reader.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Twelve, Part A: “Complications”
Some time later, Jake lay in the recliner, sleep eluding him. He’d been going nonstop for nearly twenty hours, but while his body was tired, his mind was racing. He opened his eyes, looked over at the sofa, and could see Heather lying on her side, her eyes still open and focused on the fire.
“You’re still awake,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
“Can’t sleep. Feel like my mind is racing a mile a minute.”
“You’ve had a lot going on,” Heather said quietly.
“You, too.” Jake’s eyes ran to the ceiling, watching the shadows being cast on the wood beams.
“I don’t know about that. I’ve spent two of the last four weeks blissfully ignorant,” Heather said with a sigh, remembering vaguely the activity around her when she would drift back into consciousness. They’d said she had the flu—had been hit hard by it—but Heather continued to have doubts about whether it was the flu that felled her. After all, she always thought that her immune system was incredibly resilient. How else could she constantly be surrounded by runny-nosed, coughing students and not catch everything that came her way? “The other two I spent trying to get back here.”
“But before that…” Jake began. He watched her sink back onto the pillow, pull it closer, and purse her lips. He let his question drop.
She lightly cleared her throat. “What do you think is going to happen, Jake? I mean, is this it? Are we stuck with a government we didn’t choose for ourselves?”
He’d been asking himself the same question, and invariably he came to the same conclusion. “I don’t know.”
Heather squeezed her pillow nervously. “I was never much of a conspiracy theorist. Old Oliver had it all figured out, but me—I always thought there had to be a logical explanation for everything.”
“What are you thinking?”
A silence hung in the air before Heather answered his question. “That I’m turning into a conspiracy theorist. Things are too convenient.”
“What do you mean?”
“Earlier today when Emily and I ran into each other, she told me about the history textbooks that Jennings & Rall sent over to the school intending for her to use. Not only did they have the information about the October 1 attacks but also a new spin on the decades leading up to the attacks. The thing is it takes years to develop new textbooks.”
Jake’s brow furrowed. “Years, you say?”
“Years.” She paused as her eyes flitted to the ceiling. “I can’t imagine that new textbooks would be the first priority of any government following a national catastrophe like what we had—unless it’s a new government seeking to indoctrinate the population. And what better way to do that than with the children?” The thought made her queasy, but it fit with what she knew and with what the government had done thus far, including the never ending cycle of propaganda pieces they broadcast and passed off as news.
“Have you talked about this with anyone?” he asked.
“Other than Emily and you? No.” Heather swallowed hard.
“Don’t, not even Lieutenant Hamilton.” He weighed his words carefully, wading through the information he held but dared not reveal. “I’m with you. Something’s not right, and you don’t want the wrong people to catch wind of your suspicions.”
“But Hamilton could shed some light on this for us,” Heather challenged.
Jake frowned. He didn’t like the thought of her relying too much on Lieutenant Hamilton for a number of reasons, the least of which being that he could tell the lieutenant had more than a passing interest in Heather. “Maybe, but do you really want to place your trust in someone who has sworn allegiance to the very group you distrust?”
“I think he’s a good man, Jake.”
Jake rubbed his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted to hear was a list of the lieutenant’s finer points. “Try to divorce yourself from the emotions. If this were someone else in your situation, would you recommend sharing these suspicions with a man who is a representative of the Cheyenne government?”
“But he’s not Tomarchio’s mouthpiece.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s not here to protect Jericho’s interests. He’s here to protect his own.” Jake watched as Heather pulled the blanket more tightly around herself. “You cold? I could stoke the fire.”
“No, I’m fine. I just…” her voice trailed off briefly as she collected her thoughts. What Jake said made sense if she were to be rational. Yet she couldn’t shake the sense that Hamilton could prove to be a valuable friend. His easy-going manner was not an act for her benefit; she was convinced it was genuine. Then again, she’d been certain that Emily, as her ‘best’ friend, had her interests at heart. That definitely hadn’t turned out to be the case. “So what do we do? Go along to get along? We can’t even get word out of Jericho, and the information that comes to us is so closely monitored.”
“We’re being kept isolated,” Jake acknowledged.
“Jake, if it’s happening to us here, it must be happening everywhere.”
“Keep us scattered, distract us, make us dependent on Cheyenne for our basic needs, feed us propaganda, and eventually, we’ll accept what we’re told, accept a new way of life.”
“You have thought about this.”
“You could say that.”
“’Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free.’”
“Ronald Reagan,” Jake commented, the eeriness of the former President’s words sinking in.
“Good catch,” she replied with raised brows. “How’d you know?”
“My dad was a fan. When we cleaned his study after…” Jake cleared his throat, “…after his death, Eric and I found a Reagan biography on his desk. That was one of the highlighted passages.”
“My dad used to keep a calendar of quotations on his desk. I’d,” she cringed inwardly, “memorize the quotes each day.”
“You needed a hobby.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged. “You can say that again. Though I’m your go-to girl for those emergencies when you really need a good quote. ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen…’”
“I’ll remember that,” he chuckled.
Her tone turned solemn. “Things are never going to be the same, are they?”
Jake didn’t reply. What was there for him to say?
Heather shut her eyes, though sleep did not come. When she stopped long enough to think about what had happened to them—rather than just concentrating on survival—she felt despondent. The events that were set in motion that day changed not just the course of a nation but the lives of millions upon millions of people. She was one of the lucky ones, she knew, but what about those who died in the blasts? Perhaps they were luckier than those who did see it coming, those who were affected by radiation and died slowly and painfully. Then there were those for whom the blasts would not have been a death sentence, save for the fact that they were dependent on medications, like insulin, that were either no longer available or had gone bad due to lack of refrigeration. Heather thought of people like Mrs. Voigt, her neighbor in her apartment building on Oak Street, who fell and shattered her leg. Before the bombs, her recovery would have been painful, but she would have recovered. Instead, her leg had to be amputated, and Mrs. Voigt, amid her depression, amid the pain, overdosed on old medications she had stashed in the apartment and died. The bombs claimed more victims than the actual blasts or radiation would suggest. Victims like Mr. Bitner, who froze in a winter without any way to heat his home, and Jake and Eric’s dad, who lost his life in a battle with New Bern, a battle that would never have taken place if not for the bombs.
She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes tightly, willing the tears that formed there to vanish. Heather had never liked crying, particularly in front of others, but it was difficult to keep her emotions in check considering the emotional rollercoaster on which she’d been a traveler.
It was then that she felt Jake’s nearness. Her eyes fluttered open, her lashes heavy with tears, and she blurrily saw him leaning over the couch and felt him placing an extra blanket over her.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“You okay?” he asked kneeling next to the couch.
“Fine. Just thinking.”
“It’s going to get better, Heather.” The words came quickly, though with just as much immediacy, guilt washed over him. How could he make such assertions knowing what he did? He was either being a fool or a liar, and neither possibility was particularly appealing.
She managed the smallest of smiles and closed her eyes again, this time finding sleep within a few moments.
Jake felt like he had just closed his eyes when it was daylight again. In actuality, a decent amount of time had passed, but he’d been running on empty for so long, his body hadn’t yet adjusted. He would’ve slept longer if not for the sound of a key clumsily turning the doorknob of the front door. He felt for his gun and was dismayed to remember that it was not by his side but was, instead, on the mantle of the fireplace. As the fog on his brain began to clear, it occurred to him that a robber or ne’er do well would not bother to use a key to the front door, so the possibilities of the identity of the visitor were narrowed in his mind to two people.
The sound of the rattling of the doorknob awakened Heather, as well, who sat up on the couch, her eyes still bleary and her hair mussed.
“Oh good, you two are awake,” Gail Green announced as she walked into the living room surveying a tired Jake and Heather. She wasn’t surprised to see that they were in the living room, having slept separately. It was like she told Emily: Jake wasn’t the type of man to cheat. If only the woman Jake had chosen for himself could see that about him. “And still in one piece from the looks of you.”
Heather pushed her blanket down in an effort to swing her legs off the couch and was met with cool air, a contrast to the warmth she felt nestled in her makeshift bed. “Sorry, Mrs. Green.” The older woman tilted her head, a look of warning filling her features. “Gail,” Heather amended with a sleepy smile. “Charlotte was acting up.” She stifled a yawn. “Storms and cracked distributor caps do not make a good combination.” Their reason for staying at the ranch house was perfectly chaste, but Heather felt her cheeks color nonetheless, suddenly feeling the way a randy teenager who’d been caught in a clench must feel. Would Jake’s mom disapprove of their having stayed at the ranch house together?
“We thought it would be better to stay here and ride out the storm. Hope you weren’t too worried,” Jake finished.
“Not too worried,” Gail replied, “but you know moms. No matter how old their children are…” her voice trailed off before adding, “I had to check on you, just to make sure.” True enough, she’d had occasion over the last six months to watch both of her boys ride off into what she feared would be their deaths. Things had calmed somewhat, but the world was different, harsher. The safety she used to feel with Johnston, gone.
“I should go see if I can get Charlotte running.” Heather turned to Jake. “Have any spare rags?”
Jake nodded. “I think Gramps kept some in the laundry room unless those got tossed out or used in the med center.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re still there,” Gail supplied. Though it had been several years since E.J.’s death, Johnston had taken pains to keep the ranch house unchanged. It was one small concession that Gail could allow her husband, though she worried from time to time that Johnston’s lack of interest in cleaning out the house was a sign that he wasn’t moving forward. Who was she to argue with that now, though? If Jake or Eric insisted that she begin throwing away mementos of her husband, she would put down her foot immediately.
Jake nodded and started down the hall, while Gail noted the color in Heather’s cheeks and the way Heather’s eyes followed Jake as he left the room. Perhaps Emily did have a reason to worry, after all. The bond between Jake and Heather was so palpable Gail would have been blind not to notice. And one thing Gail Green prided herself upon was understanding people. “Did you sleep okay?” she asked conversationally. “The storm was loud at times.”
“Everything was fine.” More than fine. Heather felt so connected to him, through the laughter and memories they shared, and through the new memories they made. “Jake was good company.”
Gail walked to the fireplace mantle and spotted Jake’s gun lying next to framed photos, as well as the assortment of clothes hanging from the hooks on which they used to hang Christmas stockings. “I like to think so, but I’m not exactly impartial.” From the flush on Heather’s cheeks, Gail suspected that Heather wasn’t exactly impartial either. She smiled warmly at the young woman as she circled the room, in keeping with her habit of never being still for too long.
Heather sensed Gail’s appraisal of her and added, “Both of your sons are good men.” She walked to the fireplace, stretching along the way, and picked up her shoes. They were still slightly damp, but Heather was ready to brave them.
“Thank you. I—“ Gail smiled at Jake as he entered the room with a handful of rags. “Your ears must’ve been burning. We were just talking about you.”
“Should I be worried?” Jake’s eyes shifted from his mother to Heather, a look of amusement on the older woman’s features to accompany the look of unease on the younger woman’s countenance.
“No,” Heather replied as she pulled on the shoes, which despite some lingering dampness were quite warm from their proximity to the fire. “It’s all good.”
Jake bridged the distance between himself and Heather, and pressed the clean rags into her hands. Gail watched the way her son’s hand lingered over the young woman’s, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.
“Need help?” he asked.
“No,” she replied with a smile. Her tone changed, as though she was making a grand confession. “This won’t be the first time I’ve had to perform surgery on Charlotte.”
“And it likely won’t be the last,” Jake added, a teasing smile crossing his features.
“Every vehicle requires regular maintenance for optimal performance.” The words were reminiscent of an owner’s manual, but the mirth in her voice was unmistakable.
“Some more than others.”
Heather felt compelled to defend Charlotte’s honor. Sure, the old truck had her quirks, but that was just her personality. “As the owner of a classic car yourself, you must be all too familiar with that.”
Oh no, she didn’t. She did not just lump Charlotte in with his Roadrunner! “Hey, my Roadrunner sat in a parking garage for five years, and all it took to get it going again was a pair of jumper cables and a good Samaritan.” Jake’s teasing tone gave way to a slight frown as he remembered the last time he’d seen the Roadrunner-- when he’d gone to New Bern to rescue his brother and, he was hoping, bring Heather home with them. It was the same trip when he’d watched the more aggressive questioning of his brother, when they two of them had been placed in front of a rabid New Bern mob, and when Eric had told him that Heather had been executed.
“Fair enough, and all it’s going to take to get Charlotte running again is some TLC and…” her eyes flitted down to the rags Jake got for her, “…these rags.”
“We’ll have to find you a new distributor cap.”
“Mmmm. Let’s hope it doesn’t take as many twists and turns as my hot water heater adventure.”
The twists and turns were what had enabled them to spend time together, and that, Jake couldn’t regret. What he wouldn’t give to have another day with her away from everything going on around them! “Let’s hope it does.”
Gail cleared her throat. She’d been watching the conversation between the two as though it were a tennis match; they’d obviously forgotten she was there with them. The banter between them had Gail alternately delighted and concerned. It was good to see in the man before her remnants of the boy she once knew, the boy who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young man whose laughter used to warm her heart. Heather brought out the best in Jake; Gail had no doubts about that. But where would they go from there? Was her son playing both sides against the middle? Gail could barely stomach the thought before she pushed aside the thought. No, he wouldn’t do that, but it was obvious he would have to resolve the situation one way or another, and no matter what happened, someone would be hurt. “Jake, I’ll help you fold these blankets. Then we’ll go check on the horses.” Mom-code for ‘We need to talk.’
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Told you I do chores,” he said with a smile before backing away from Heather. He motioned his head in the direction of the clothes hanging along the fireplace mantle.
Heather’s cheeks colored slightly, remembering what Jake had told her the night before—that eventually he would see her underwear—though he did add the caveat that it was because he helped his mother with chores.
Heather looked from Jake to Gail. Recognizing that Gail wanted to speak with her son, Heather took her cue. “I’ll catch up with you two in a few minutes.”
By the time Heather made her way out the door, Gail had already picked up a blanket and begun folding it. Jake lagged behind, which drew Gail’s attention. He was standing by the window, the curtain drawn back, looking out into the sunny day. Correction. He was looking out at Heather who was making her way to Charlotte.
“I don’t think she’s going to leave without you,” Gail said wryly.
That tone. Jake fought irritation realizing that his mother had caught him watching Heather. Yes, she knew him all too well.
Jake left the window and walked to the recliner, retrieved his blanket, and began folding it. “You working at the clinic today?”
“I have a later shift,” Gail replied. “Kenchy and Jessica had both wanted their schedules rearranged.” She paused meaningfully. “To accommodate Emily, I believe.” Her steely eyes fell upon her son, an unspoken question hanging between them.
Back to reality. The perfect time Jake enjoyed the night before seemed disproportionately longer ago with each passing minute. “Emily and I had plans last night,” Jake muttered. “I didn’t get there, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Gail echoed. “Emily came by the house last night.”
Jake said nothing.
“Aren’t you wondering how she seemed?”
He scowled. “Mad as hell, I’m guessing.”
Gail fluffed a pillow. “No, she was lost.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you—I get the impression that you didn’t want to be found by me today. You and Heather barely even knew I was here.” Jake opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have because once he did, it would make what he needed to do real. Yet his mother pressed on. “What’s going on with you, Jake? Emily’s a mess and you’re, well, you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”
Jake sucked in a breath. “How bad was it when she came over?”
Gail frowned remembering her own lost patience with the young woman. So many feelings warred within her where Emily Sullivan was concerned. She saw good qualities in the young woman—her bravery, her intelligence, which Gail felt many people underestimated—but she also saw qualities that gave Gail pause. That glint of danger was so reminiscent of Jonah Prowse. More than anything, though, the hold Emily had over Jake, an unhealthy hold by her estimation, based on history and guilt, unnerved Gail. She’d tried to stay out of their conflicts over the years, but it was difficult to be passive when Gail saw Emily’s insecurities and selfishness cause Jake so much grief. “Bad. She’s worried about losing you.”
“Yeah, well…”
“In an unhealthy way, Jake,” Gail interrupted. “There’s always been that draw between the two of you. Like moths to a flame, your dad used to say.” She didn’t have to say what happened when the moths came too close to the heat; Jake knew firsthand. “I told her that you and Heather were out here.”
Jake swore under his breath.
“I wasn’t going to lie, Jake.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” Gail piled folded blankets into Jake’s arms, and he headed down the hallway to the linen closet, calling back to his mother, “I’m surprised she didn’t drive out here to give me a piece of her mind.”
“I think she wanted to, but she was worried what she would find.” Gail noted the scowl on his face as he returned from his foray down the hall. “Jake, if you’re going to be with Emily, you can’t spend time with Heather. You do know that, don’t you?” Jake shifted uncomfortably. “It’s only going to make the situation with Emily more difficult.” Gail paused. “And I think you’ll make things harder for yourself, too. The more time you spend with Heather, the more difficult it’ll be to let her go.”
“I’m not going to let Heather go. Not again.” The words tumbled out before Jake could stop them.
“You two have talked about this?” Gail asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
“No, not until I settle things with Em.” Jake would let the cards fall where they may. No guts, no glory. He wasn’t going to be one of those guys who lined up the next girlfriend before he’d broken up with the old one.
“Be gentle with Emily, Jake.”
“Don’t know that I can be,” he replied. As he filled in his mother on what Emily told Heather about their upcoming marriage, Gail felt the blood drain from her face. Could Emily really be that petty? Gail hadn’t thought it possible, but then again, if she felt backed into a corner, Emily wasn’t the type of woman to play dead. She would come out swinging with whatever means, whatever ammunition, necessary. Gail had seen it before, only this time, her efforts backfired. In trying to keep Jake and Heather apart, Emily managed to bring them closer.
“What does Heather think of all this?” Gail asked.
“She’s hurt. She doesn’t want to believe the worst about Emily, but I’ve known Emily too long. I know how she works.”
“Then why do you keep going back?” Her voice was amazingly patient and did not betray the frustration she felt over watching Jake make the same mistake over and over again.
Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. Keep hoping things will be different. Haven’t figured out how to live with or without her.” And hadn’t that always been their story? They fought. They made up. They yelled, they fought more, they made up again. In a sense, it excited them both, kept them on edge. The lows were low, but the highs were high. He’d always accepted it as the way he and Emily were together, that they weren’t going to be like his parents. At least they weren’t going to be like her parents, either. Emily wasn’t particularly easy to live with, but then again, neither was he. He never saw the possibility of a relationship being anything other than a constant tug of war or battle of wills.
Not until he met Heather.
Heather Lisinski complicated the hell out of his life.
Yet if there were no Heather, would he be willing to take that step with Emily that she wanted? Would they finally be getting married? They’d had their chances, without a doubt. And still there was always something to slow their forward momentum. There was always something that held him back. A lack of commitment? Jake had made more than his share of mistakes, but the idea of being married didn’t make him want to run for the hills. But the idea of being married to Emily…
So no, he had to acknowledge that this wasn’t about Heather. Not entirely. She certainly made no demands of him. Was it the novelty of learning about someone new? No. While he was enjoying getting to know her, he’d met many women over the years, none of whom captured him in the same way Heather did.
So, yes, she complicated the hell out of his life, but somehow it all seemed worth it.
Despite their problems, despite all that had happened between them, Emily loved him. Knowing the mistakes he made, she loved him anyway. Would anyone else be able to handle his past and love him? Would Heather?
Jake couldn’t answer that yet. He felt like if anyone had the capacity to overlook his shortcomings it would be her, but what if her goodness, one quality which drew him to her, would not allow her to look at him with anything but contempt once she knew everything there was to know about him?
Jake pushed aside those thoughts. Not only were they counterproductive, they were also moot.
“The cycle needs to end, one way or another, Jake. You deserve to be happy.” Jake averted his gaze, and Gail reached out to touch his face, directing his chin to force him look her in the eyes. “Stop badgering yourself for the things you can’t change.”
Reconciling with Emily hadn’t felt right since the beginning. He thought that being with her again would be like coming home. Instead, everything about their time together felt forced and unnatural. They weren’t in sync physically or emotionally.
“Look, I already know what I have to do.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I know it’s not going to be easy.”
“Nothing ever is.”
Gail turned from Jake before he could see the relief on her face. “Ready to go check on the horses?”
to be continued in Chapter 12, Part B...