Author’s Notes: A special thanks goes out to skyrose, my ever-talented beta reader.
Warnings: mild profanity
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 12, Part B
When Heather first heard the crackling of the gravel, she thought it was her imagination, but as she peered around the open hood of Charlotte and the outline of a Humvee came into view, her initial impression was replaced by dread. Were they there for her? Had they tracked her down to arrest her for what happened in New Bern? If Major Beck was investigating as he was purported to be doing, would she be in the proverbial line of fire? Would they use her as an example? Deftly, she tightened the distributor cap and took a deep breath, willing herself to calm.
Heather prepared to alert Jake and Gail that they had visitors, but before she had the chance to make her way back to the house, mother and son were on the porch. As Jake walked, he turned slightly, and Heather noticed that his gun was tucked into the back of his jeans.
The vehicle stopped next to Charlotte, and Heather watched as Major Beck and two soldiers who looked vaguely familiar emerged from the Humvee and began to walk toward Jake, Gail, and her.
“So this is the Green Ranch I’ve heard about,” Major Beck began conversationally. His attempt at small talk fell flat as his appraising eyes fell upon the taller man. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a rancher, Jake.”
“It was my grandfather’s,” Jake replied evenly, “and there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Beck looked unconvinced, which only made Jake’s mood turn more sour.
“What brings you out here?” Gail asked stepping forward next to Jake trying to offer a soothing presence.
“Good morning, Mrs. Green. It’s not my intention to intrude. I was hoping that I might have a word with Jake.” Beck looked to Jake. “Perhaps you can show me your ranch. It would give us the chance to speak privately.”
Jake’s scowl was unmistakable as he surveyed the other man. “Let’s walk.”
Beck nodded. The two soldiers—Heather read their name tags: Parker and Dominguez—began to follow Jake and Beck. The major lifted his hand, motioning them to stop. “Stay here and assist Ms. Lisinski with whatever mechanical needs she may have with her truck.”
Heather frowned. What made Major Beck think that she would accept the help of two men whose expertise was unknown to her? Besides, didn’t he already know that she was fairly handy with all things mechanical? It made no sense to her, unless the major wanted to speak with Jake alone without clueing the men with him to that fact.
Beck wanted to speak with Jake, she repeated mentally, relief washing over her. The major wasn’t there for her. “And Ms. Lisinski, later today at your convenience, please stop by my office so we can finish our conversation.”
Heather’s mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. She managed a nod, trying to maintain her composure while all the while feeling as though her knees were quaking.
“Your conversation with the major?” Gail queried as she watched Beck and her son walking in the distance.
“About what happened in New Bern,” Heather replied quietly.
“Heather, what did happen there?” Gail’s eyes were wide, hoping that Heather would share some of her experiences, for Eric would not speak of them. She longed to know more, to understand what her younger son had endured. New Bern had cost their family immeasurably. When she saw Eric at the medical center, his face bloody and swollen, the haunted look giving way to a hardened one, Gail needed to know.
The people of New Bern had cost her Johnston. No, not the people, she reminded herself. Their leadership, their despot. But by the grace of God go we….
“A lot. The worst of humanity—and some of the best.” Heather knew her answers were vague, but she found it impossible to say more. Not now. Not like this. She turned away and looked at the two soldiers, one who looked to be a private and the other a second lieutenant, both of whom were beginning to inspect the aged truck.
“Thanks, gentlemen, but I can handle the maintenance,” Heather said crisply, addressing their two guests.
“Major Beck instructed us to assist you, Ma’am,” countered Dominguez as he awkwardly picked up a wrench Heather had lying on the truck.
“No offense, Private, but do you even know what that tool is called?”
The private opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and shut his mouth again. Lieutenant Parker looked on, a bemused expression crossing his features, one that surprised Heather considering the importance of protocol. Heather knew all too well the value placed upon rules, regulation, and propriety; her time at Camp Hayward had been an opener, indeed.
Heather squared her shoulders, trying to look taller, authoritative. “I’ve got this one covered already.”
“How’d you know I was here?”
“You and Ms. Lisinski went through a checkpoint yesterday afternoon, listed this as your destination, but never returned. It was reasonable to assume that you would be here and...,” his dark eyes moved between Jake who walked three feet from him and Heather in the distance, who was addressing one of his soldiers with her hands on her hips, “…not in New Bern.” He wondered if he’d be hearing about that conversation from Ms. Lisinski later. Edward Beck was a man of detail, and one detail he’d not forgotten was Heather Lisinski’s expertise with all things in motion.
“You keep telling me that justice will be served, and if it is, I have no reason to go to New Bern.” Though Jake tried to keep his voice even, he couldn’t hide the edge that crept into it. “So whatever it is couldn’t wait until I returned?”
“Have you considered my offer? It’d be much easier if you’d work with me than against me,” Beck replied returning his full attention to Jake. “I want to see this town back on its feet. We can help each other to that end.”
“Why me? There are plenty of people out there who’d be happy to kiss your ass. Yet you keep coming to me.”
“You’re hardened. You’ve been tested. When push comes to shove, you can do what needs to be done.”
“Nah. You’re keeping me close because you think I’m trouble.”
“That, too,” Beck conceded.
“And what exactly do you think I’ll need to do as sheriff of Jericho that requires such qualities? Jericho’s a small town.”
“Yes, a small town that went to war with its neighbor. Jericho might be small, but it’s not ordinary. Add into the mix the possibility of terrorist activity in the area. You’ve served this town, but you’ve also seen what it is to fight. Not just in the skirmish between Jericho and New Bern.”
Jake stopped on his tracks. “How much do you know?”
“Enough. So what’s it going to be?”
Jake took a deep breath. Of course Beck had access to everything there was to know about his past in Afghanistan and Iraq, his involvement with Ravenwood, the interest the FBI had shown in him. Only a less thorough man would’ve overlooked the obvious; Major Beck was nothing if not thorough. “When do I start?”
“Immediately,” Beck replied removing a sheriff’s badge from the pocket of his military-issue jacket.
“How’d you know…?”
“That you’d take the job? I told you. I’m good at what I do, Jake.” Beck straightened his cap. “Come to town hall when you’re finished. I’ll issue you a sidearm and holster.”
Jake instinctively felt for the gun he’d tucked into the waist of his pants.
“Last thing you need is to shoot yourself in the ass.”
‘I feel like I already have,’ Jake thought to himself as Beck strode away and toward his men who now stood by the fencerow.
Heather closed the hood of her truck. “That should do it.” She shot a meaningful look at the two soldiers. Gail found herself suppressing a smile at the triumphant glance the young woman gave the men. Gail had never particularly liked being told that she wasn’t capable of doing something, either.
“Aren’t you Dorothy?” Dominguez asked, realization crossing his features. “Yeah? Lt. Hamilton’s girl?”
“Dorothy?” Gail questioned, though it was the reference to Heather as ‘Lt. Hamilton’s girl’ that peaked her interest even more.
“As in The Wizard of Oz,” Heather replied, her victorious look vanishing.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Ma’am, I can see why Hamilton’s taken with you. Any woman who knows her way around a vehicle the way you do, that’s pretty special.”
Heather chewed on her bottom lip. She liked Jacob Hamilton. A lot. Like being the operative word. Hamilton was incredibly easy to talk to, kind, easy on the eyes, and charming. Yet she did not feel for him what she did for Jake Green. It would have been much easier for her if she did. There were no complications with Hamilton, no reasons they shouldn’t see each other, and he was the type of man that usually appealed to Heather. Generally, she preferred clean-cut, affable, and steady to brooding, edgy, mysterious, act first-ask questions later types of men.
Heather had never had the bad boy complex that so many of her girlfriends in college did. Not until that moment on the school bus when Jake trudged through his own injuries, keeping a little girl alive and calming the nerves of a bus full of frightened children, and Heather found herself curious about him; and the more she learned, the more she liked. Any man who could wire explosives, bribe horses, and listen to John Denver was ridiculously exceptional, indeed.
She had no illusions that he was perfect. In fact, he was deliciously imperfect, but there was just something about him that made her ache to be near him. Even a few minutes ago when he was just passing her rags to work on Charlotte, she found herself mesmerized.
Yet in the light of the day, Heather couldn’t help but wonder what good that was going to do her. She and Jake had a great time the night before, but he’d maintained his distance. They were close, but not close enough. It was what she expected, and yet it made her want to be near him all the more. Jake wasn’t the man that Emily described to her. If he had been, the least Jake would’ve done was kiss Heather. And the way she felt about him, she would’ve been more than willing to do that—and maybe more.
In the distance, she could see Jake. Though she couldn’t make out the expression on his face, from the way he held his body, Heather thought he looked tense. She wished she could take that away for him.
And she had no right.
Her friendship with Emily was in shambles. Her family was long gone. Nothing in Jericho was as she remembered it, and this soldier, Dominguez, looked at her as though she had her life put together so perfectly.
The teasing, light-hearted tone in which she spoke belied her words. “I’m not anybody’s anything.”
She began to walk quickly and Gail followed. “Wait up, Heather,” Gail instructed.
Heather slowed her gait, but her instinct was to retreat, to go somewhere and collect herself. Why was she all over the place? She felt like the only thing holding her together was her skin.
“You’re wrong, you know,” Gail began. “You’re selling yourself short. You are important to my boys and me. You’re important to our town.”
Heather shook her head. “I think I’m still just tired. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m not grateful to you because I am. Truly I am.”
“It’s tough when your life changes without warning. All the plans you made for yourself just disappear.” Gail linked her arm with the younger woman’s as the two of them walked, partly to comfort Heather but partly to comfort herself. Each passing day was minutely easier than the previous but the throbbing she felt was still so palpable and yet her situation so surreal. “On the day of the attacks, Johnston was planning on withdrawing from the mayoral race. Eric was going to run in his place. And after the election, Johnston and I were planning a trip to Paris. I couldn’t wait to stroll down the Champs Elyse, indulge in a sinful amount of cheese and wine, and have Johnston all to myself. I had a whole list of museums I wanted to drag him to, and he would’ve gone with me without complaint, though you can bet his favorite vacation would have consisted of fishing on the Tacoma.”
Heather felt gratified that Gail shared the details of her life. She truly wasn’t alone. “I wish you would’ve been able to take your trip.”
“Me, too,” Gail replied to Heather’s earnest comment, “but there’s that old saying that life is what happens when you make plans. People expect certain things to happen, and when they don’t, there can be disappointment. Sometimes the greatest gifts come without expectation.”
Heather nodded. Gail was right. When she thought back to her life only a little over a month ago, she never would have expected to be walking on the Green Ranch again tasting freedom. She certainly never would have imagined the wonderful night she shared with Jake. Okay, scratch that. She might have imagined it, but she never would have thought it possible. But one wonderful night compared to years that Jake and Emily had spent together? Who was she kidding?
“Did I ever tell you how I met Johnston?”
Heather paused for a moment, wondering if Gail’s question was rhetorical. The two had not spent an immense amount of time together, though she’d heard bits and pieces about the Green family from Jake, Emily, and, in years past, E.J. “No, you didn’t.”
“We met at my cousin Tammi’s wedding. I was her maid of honor, and I still remember walking down that aisle as though it was yesterday. I mean it. Everything—from the lopsided toupee our Uncle Charlie was wearing to the music that was playing—seems so crisp in my mind. Yet all of that pales in comparison to the moment I first saw him. Johnston. He had come with Tammi’s brother, my cousin Mark. They were on leave from the Army. I just—“ Gail remembered the lines of Johnston’s dress uniform, the way the sunlight shone through the church windows and gave what she could only describe as an aura around him, and the way his expressive eyes fell upon her. “I just knew, and it scared me senseless. Later, he asked me to dance, and when he held my hand, that was that. I never wanted him to let go.”
“That’s lovely.”
Gail chuckled lightly. “I thought so at the time until the next day when he confessed that he had a girl back home, a girl he’d dated since they were just kids. Everyone expected that they’d get married. Johnston’s parents were counting on it. Her parents were counting on it. They were first loves.”
“What did you do when you found out?”
“I was so angry with him, on her behalf, on my behalf, and I really gave him a piece of my mind. He told me later that was when he knew it was love. He broke things off with this other woman, wrote me letter after letter, and won my heart. I didn’t see him again until two days before we got married.”
“That sounds like something straight from a storybook.”
“Looking back, it feels like something from a storybook, though at the time, I had a lot of doubts.”
“Really?”
“Oh, you bet. My life was changing so quickly, and I worried about so many things. Was I doing the right thing to marry him so quickly after meeting him for the first time? What about this other young woman? Were my actions hurting her terribly? What about my schooling? I was only halfway through my nursing program. I was a good Irish Catholic girl, and he was a Protestant with no intention of converting. And my future mother-in-law…” Gail exhaled loudly. “…I was a hussy to her. She called me Abigail to my face and Jezebel behind my back. See, I had a lot of reasons to run the other way, a lot of reasons to think that it could never work between us, but I had one very good reason to see it through. We connected. Doesn’t mean we always agreed because Lord knows we fought , especially in those early years, but we connected. Our senses of humor, our views of the world, our dreams—we connected.”
“I think I know what you’re getting at.”
“Good. I want to see Jake happy. Heather, first loves aren’t always lifelong loves. Jake knows this, though it’s taken him a long time to get to the point where he’s willing to act on that.”
Heather’s heart pounded. Was Gail implying what Heather thought she was?
“C’mon,” Gail said gently steering Heather on a return path to the truck. “I don’t know about you, but I’m curious what Major Beck had to say to Jake.”
Lieutenant Jacob Hamilton was securing the bags in the Humvee that Ted Lewis had given him to deliver to Heather when he heard the tell-tale beep of his short-wave radio and the ensuing static. “Lt. Hamilton, this is Lt. John Garner from Project Home Sequester.”
Hamilton’s brow furrowed. What would John Garner want with him? Hamilton had nothing to do with the oversight of Phil Constantino’s house arrest.
“Acknowledged,” Hamilton replied pressing the talk button on the handset.
“Is this a secure channel?”
“Affirmative.”
“Lt. Buchs has not reported for duty, which was to begin at 0700 hours.”
Hamilton looked at his watch, its digital display reading 9:00 a.m. A sick feeling filtered through him. Barrett Buchs was many things—a lothario, obnoxious at times, and overly confident in his abilities—but one thing he was not was unreliable. How many times in Iraq had Buchs had his back? More than that, Hamilton had seen Buchs work over two sisters at once late at night, and still show for duty early the next day crisp, fresh, and none the worse for wear.
“And you received no word?” Hamilton queried.
“None. I know the two of you are buddies. Thought I’d check with you to see if he’s crashing from an all-nighter.”
“I’ll institute a search. If you don’t hear from me in fifteen minutes, alert the C.O. Hamilton out.”
Hamilton’s eyes fixed on the barracks in the distance and hoped to God that Barrett Buchs was just sleeping something off a Smoky Mountain-sized bender—and that his ass wouldn’t be on the line for not alerting the commanding officer immediately.
“That uniform almost looks like it was made for you.”
“That’s the idea. Hell, I almost look respectable,” the man said as he smoothed the uniform. His fingers fell upon the name badge: LT. BUCHS. “Too bad I didn’t pick a guy whose last name was easier to pronounce. How you suppose you say it? With a /ch/ sound or a /k/ sound?”
Green eyes met eyes so like her own. “How am I supposed to know?”
An unabashed grin crossed his stubbly features. “Dad always said you were the smart one in the family.”
“What does it matter?” Her tone was impatient, as it frequently became when her brother offered commentary on their father. It was almost easier not to think of Bart Travers and the senselessness of his death, yet her only living family member plagued her with memories of their father, just as surely as her longing for vindication for him plagued her mind.
She took a precious cigarette from the packet Buches(?) or Books(?) had in his pocket when he encountered her brother. “You’ll only be wearing it long enough to ensnare that bitch. So what did you do with what’s-his-name?”
“You don’t want to know.” He reached for his can of shaving foam, slathered it on his face, and reached for his razor. Since the bombs, he hadn’t taken much care to be presentable, but he’d watched enough of the soldiers to know that appearance regulations still held. Didn’t matter what the military called itself.
The young woman nervously pressed the cigarette between her lips, lit it, and inhaled deeply. It had been too long. Far too long. She used to smoke because she liked the buzz the nicotine gave her, plus it helped her keep her svelte figure. Obviously, keeping her weight under control wasn’t a problem with all the shortages they had endured.
Unused to the action that in times past seemed second nature, she began to cough, the motion causing her long, red curls to bounce. “This better work,” she managed to get out before breaking into another fit of coughs.
“It will. She won’t know what hit her, just like what’s-his-name didn’t know.”
to be continued in chapter 13...