Author's Note: A special thanks goes out to my beta, Skyrose.
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.
Warning: Strong language in the latter part of the chapter
Chapter 13, Part B
Telling his mother that he’d been named sheriff wasn’t without its amusement, Jake thought several hours later as he walked through town hall. She’d been quick to remind him that spending time in the office should be much more comfortable than in the holding cell, where he’d already spent some time as a teenager. At the time, getting arrested for disorderly conduct had been an immense embarrassment to his parents. Now it made for a humorous anecdote for his mother to tell at the most inopportune times, like when Heather was around. To her credit, Heather didn’t look ruffled or disappointed. Instead she commented that everyone had things from their past they wished they could change, and mumbled something about a really bad perm.
‘Screw this town, 92’ indeed. He had heard more than one long-time town hall employee comment on his in-cell carving.
Jake had fastened his badge to the belt on his jeans but had refused the standard uniform worn by Jimmy and Bill. Already he’d responded to a complaint about a bull on the loose in The Pines, which took him precipitously close to Emily’s house when he and Jimmy had to tranquilize the animal. Another person had reported spotting Jonah Prowse near the churchyard, which to Jake, seemed unlikely. Jonah had kept himself distanced from Jericho for the last month, ever since cutting and running with the supplies they needed to try to ward off New Bern. Jake knew that the time would come when he’d have to deal with Jonah, but he hoped it came later rather than sooner. But in a churchyard? Not exactly Jonah’s style.
When he got back to town hall, it was just in time to see Heather emerging from Major Beck’s office, a grim look on her face, a look that she tried to cover when she spotted him. He immediately made his way to her side.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked.
“Fine, Jake.” But her voice sounded listless and her eyes lacked their usual luster. “I think Major Beck will be ready to move on Constantino now.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “What did you say to him?”
“What I had to,” she replied ambiguously. “Listen, I need to go get my head screwed on straight and…”
He reached down and took her hand, which was cold to the touch. He rubbed it between his larger ones. “Will you tell me about it later?” He searched her eyes, beseeching her to open up to him.
A part of Heather wanted to tell him everything. But was it right to burden him with that? Didn’t Jake already have enough worries? Didn’t he carry the weight of his life and the lives of so many others? To add to that just felt wrong. “I—“
“Dorothy, do you have a moment?” Lieutenant Hamilton had come upon them so quickly, and Jake had been so focused on Heather, he’d not seen the officer approach. Catching the grimace on Jake’s face, Hamilton added, “Sorry to intrude, but this is important.”
Heather looked from Jake to Hamilton. “Um, yeah. Yeah.” When she returned her gaze to Jake, she could see the exasperation on his face and silently apologized before voicing, “I’ll see you later, Jake.”
Jake looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was being summoned to Major Beck’s office.
As Heather and Hamilton strode down the hall, Hamilton couldn’t help but notice how Heather was not her usual self with a ready smile. When he finished telling her what he learned in New Bern, he knew she’d be even less apt to smile.
“Did you see Ted?”
“I did. Actually, he sent a few things for you.” He pointed to a door labeled ‘storage closet.’ “They’re in here.”
“I’m not going in a dark closet with you.”
“Why? Don’t trust yourself?” he shot back with ease and charm.
She shook her head. This was going to be difficult, and she’d had enough difficulty for one day, so she deflected. She would handle this tomorrow. “So how did Ted seem?”
Hamilton looked disappointed that she wasn’t willing to engage in some mild flirtation with him, but nevertheless, snapped back to business. “Nervous,” Hamilton replied.
“He’s always been a little jumpy,” Heather confessed.
Hamilton turned the knob of the storage room, reached down, and retrieved the bag that Ted had given him. “Things in New Bern aren’t like things here. There’s a curfew in place, for instance.”
“For all the good that’s doing,” Heather replied with a sigh, thinking on the trickle of people from her hometown to Jericho looking for trouble and revenge wrapped in a shiny package. “I want you to tell me everything that went on with Ted. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Bossy,” Hamilton teased passing her the bag, which surprisingly, held little interest to her, he noted.
“I’m serious, Hamilton. Ted is my oldest friend, and I need to know that he’s okay!”
“What’s goin’ on? You don’t seem yourself.” Briefly, Emily’s warning to him crossed his mind, but he brushed it aside.
“I just need to know. Please.”
Hamilton laid before Heather everything that happened, from Ted’s anxiety at the Army lieutenant showing up at the door to his trailer, to Ted’s disbelief and joy that Heather was alive, to the way that Ted devoured Heather’s letter, to his visit after curfew to the encampment. “He put himself at risk to break curfew, Heather.”
“Why would he do that?” The Ted Lewis she knew was not what she would consider a stickler for rules, but he had a healthy sense of fear that balanced any rebellious streak he possessed.
“He came,” Hamilton began, holding her gaze with his own, “because he thinks your life is in danger.”
Heather’s heart began to pound; so much so, she could hear the blood swooshing in her ears. Her hands felt incredibly clammy.
Hamilton, seeing Heather’s reaction, tried to make his words as gentle as possible while not sugarcoating the direness of her situation. “Word’s gotten out that you’re alive. That man from New Bern who came here yesterday—Jack Yeargan—spread the word. Ted thinks Phil Constantino will be comin’ for you.”
And just as quickly as dread and fear had washed over Heather, an immense feeling of relief came upon her. “It’s going to be okay,” she said with certainty. “The snake’s head has been cut off.”
“What do you mean?” Hamilton asked.
“Major Beck told me that Constantino is being remanded into the custody of the Cheyenne government. He will be standing trial for his role in the war between New Bern and Jericho—and for the other acts he committed.”
“That’s great news!” Hamilton beamed. “I needed it.”
“Something wrong?”
“A buddy of mine’s gone missin’.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “What?”
A hint of bitterness permeated Hamilton’s normally amiable tone. “My c.o. thinks he’s AWOL like so many others.”
“But you don’t.”
“Nah. Barrett Buchs, he’s a lot of things and he’s done a lot of things, but a deserter? No.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Good question. Any suggestions that won’t result in my gettin’ court-martialed?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask. Military protocol is not something I entirely understand. The basics, maybe, but not the nitty gritty. Especially the A.S. military.”
“Heather, we’re just like we always were. Situation’s different, but same military with the same goals we always had. Keepin’ this country safe.”
Heather pursed her lips. “Which country, Hamilton?” She clutched the bag she carried more tightly in her hand. “Thank you for contacting Ted for me. I appreciate it more than I can say. I hope you find your friend.”
Beck’s dark brows rose when he saw Jake Green enter his office. “Still no uniform?”
“I’m pacing myself,” Jake replied pulling his jacket open to reveal his sheriff’s badge secured to his belt.
Beck contemplated asking the other man how his first day as sheriff had been, but opted against it. Jake Green was not a man who would or could be won over by small talk. Regardless, what he had to tell Jake would do far more to soothe ruffled feathers than anything else. “I thought you’d like to know that Phil Constantino is being remanded into the custody of the federal court system.”
Jake’s gaze remained steely, though his mouth suddenly felt dry. His thoughts turned to the day of his father’s death, how Beck forced him to sit across from the man who killed his father, how he arbitrarily declared the conflict between Jericho and New Bern to be over. It hadn’t been over—not by a long shot—but now Beck was telling him that the man responsible for his father’s death would finally be facing the consequences of his actions. Jake knew he should have felt elated, but the numbness that he felt instead gnawed at him. “Federal court system? What does that mean anymore?”
“It means he’s going to Cheyenne. He’ll stand trial there for his crimes. Contrary to what some people believe, we do still have standards in our country and there is such a thing as right and wrong.”
“When?”
“His security detail is readying him for transport as we speak.”
Jake looked through the newly installed bullet-proof office windows toward Heather, who stood conversing with Lt. Hamilton. Her lips were tightened, her posture tense. Whatever had happened in Heather’s conversation with Beck had quite obviously affected her. “What did Heather say to you?” He looked back to Beck, searching for clues on the man’s face.
Like always, Beck’s mask held. “Ms. Lisinski corroborated your brother’s account of what happened in New Bern and provided additional information that I found useful. I’m not at liberty to say more than that.”
Jake rubbed his chin and returned his gaze to the place where he had seen Heather just a moment before, wanting to gage her temperament, but now she was gone. Lt. Hamilton was still there, looking dejected, Jake thought.
“What are the charges?”
“Unlawful imprisonment, murder, slave trafficking, to name a few. He’s not going to see the light of day again, Jake. Punishment will be severe and swift.”
The first two charges did not surprise Jake, but the latter did. There was still so much about New Bern that Eric had not told him. And Heather, she would barely speak of it. Jake was starting to gather a fuller picture as to why. “But he’ll get a trial?”
“Yes.”
Jake cleared his throat. That was more consideration than his father had received. Relief mingled with regret. Relief that Constantino would be dealt with, regret that he would not be delivering the justice himself.
With a quick nod of his head, Jake left Beck’s office, eager to find Eric, who was likely in or near the mayor’s office, and share the news.
Jake paced in his office several hours later; being sheriff was not quite like he had expected. He had already completed the necessary paperwork on the rampaging bull. He had taken the opportunity to familiarize himself with the personnel records of the newer sheriff’s deputies, two men who came with Roger Hammond to Jericho. He had met with Jimmy, Bill, Hank Doogan, and Ned Daley. Doogan and Daley were reserved but polite when Jake was introduced as the new sheriff; Bill Kohler snorted, at first believing the announcement of Jake’s new position to be a practical joke. Jake likely would have had the same reaction six months ago.
But how things had changed. Not that he had any doubts about that fact, but if he had had them, they were all but erased as he left to confer with the mayor.
As Jake met with Gray in his father’s old office after finding Eric and telling him the news of Constantino, Jake was taken aback by just how unfamiliar it looked with Gray’s touch on the furniture and décor so different from Jake’s vivid memories of time spent there as a child.
During his budget meeting with Gray, Jake discovered that the budget was essentially frozen until the new Cheyenne currency became more widespread. Truth be told, Jake had not thought about money one way or another in months. Other things—like food, salt, fuel, and cigarettes—had become far more valuable. It was a reminder of the precarious nature of the legal tender—that it had value only so long as one placed value on it. For instance, the trust fund left to him by his grandfather and overseen by his father was virtually worthless until or unless an exchange rate was developed and accepted by the Allied States. To hear Gray talk, though, they were on their way to getting back to normal thanks to Cheyenne.
The notion of the Allied States assuming federal authorities—such as minting currency—unnerved Jake, but he had to play the role of sheriff, and the town’s top law enforcement officer was not typically the one to incite rebellion.
Gray had a small television set muted, though still powered on. When a new story began running, Gray reached for the remote control he kept on his desk, tried to work it, and then remembered that they had commandeered the batteries for some other task. He had to walk to the television to turn up its volume.
“…as President Tomarchio continues his whistle-stop tour across the western states. Throngs of crowds turned out in Boise, Idaho.”
The image on the TV shifted from the pert blonde newscaster to an arena setting. The camera panned the crowd of thousands before zooming in on former senator, John Tomarchio, now President of the Allied States, waving at the cheering mass. In the backdrop of the screen, an A.S. flag was prominently featured, its vertical stripes still making Jake want to cringe. Footage jumped ahead to the closing remarks of Tomarchio’s speech, interspersing the looks of awe on the faces of the listeners with the young President. “I believe in the fortitude of the American people to overcome any obstacle, climb any mountain that obstructs our progress. We have been dealt a blow, unlike any ever witnessed in the history of man. Yet here we are, standing tall, standing firm.
“Many years ago, when the world was more innocent, Welsh poet Dylan Thomas watched his father dying. That’s something that I daresay too many of us have had to face in recent months.” Tomarchio’s expression took a solemn turn. “He famously implored, ‘Do not go gentle into that good night/ Rage, rage against the dying of the light’. Just as he implored, I beseech you now. Keep raging against the dying of the light! We cannot fight for what has already passed, but we can shape tomorrow. We can shine the light on these dark times! And we will. America lives on!” The sound of the crowd grew deafening as Tomarchio spoke over the audience. “God bless you all, and God bless the Allied States of America!”
The image returned to that of the newscaster. “President Tomarchio will next be heading to Pendleton, Oregon, before making his way to Sacramento. Sacramento was briefly, as you might recall, a federal capital. Organizers of the events expect record crowds of supporters for the extremely popular young President being touted as the savior of our nation.
“In other news, the deadly Hudson River virus continues to be…”
“Kool Aid drinkers,” Jake muttered to himself as Gray turned off the TV, silencing the reporter.
“We’ve all got to believe in something, Jake. You know where I stand.” Gray cleared his throat remembering their argument from the day before. “I’m willing to go with it so long as things keep getting better. Speaking of drinking the Kool Aid, I hear that you and Emily are getting hitched.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Where in the hell did you hear that?”
“So I take it congratulations aren’t in order?”
The last thing Jake intended to do was discuss his love life with Gray Anderson. “Anything else we need to cover?”
“We’ve covered budget and hierarchy. That should just about do it.”
Jake nodded and began heading for the door of the office.
“Oh, there is one other thing: the matter of the uniform or lack thereof.”
Jake stopped on his tracks before turning to face the other man, who looked more smug than usual.
“There is a dress code for sheriff’s department employees. Extends to the hair, as well.” Jake frowned as Gray retrieved a file folder from his desk and pulled a piece of paper from it. “Before you get irate with me, you should know this is a carryover from the previous mayor’s administration. Look it over, and let’s get in compliance. After all, you set the example for your deputies.”
A string of colorful profanities and comments about baldness, all directed toward Gray, came to Jake, but his mind filtered his mouth. Instead he snatched the paper from Gray’s hand and stuffed it in his back pocket without even glancing at its contents.
Dealing with Gray Anderson on a daily basis was the least of Jake’s concerns as he left the man’s office. He had brought up a topic that Jake had been avoiding tackling: namely, Emily Sullivan.
As Heather replaced the panel on the hot water heater in the basement of the Green home, she mentally crossed her fingers and hoped that the repair work she had done would take care of the problem. Now she would need to let water fill the tank and, hopefully, begin to warm.
Truth be told, she felt just as drained as the water heater. Reliving what had happened in New Bern had not been easy, and she would likely be called to Cheyenne to testify at Constantino’s trial. That thought alone was enough to make her squeamish.
She briefly flirted with the idea of lying on the couch and hibernating for the next few minutes, but there was too much that needed to be done. She thought to what she and Gail had talked about a few days earlier—about having an honest to goodness vegetable garden in the back yard, but there were preparations that needed to be made.
Heading upstairs and into the garage, Heather spotted a hoe and shovel hanging on the wall. Grabbing them, she headed to the backyard. Once she got started digging off the layer of overgrown sod in the area Gail had marked with twine, she was certain she would be a muddy mess, but for some reason, it seemed oddly appropriate to her.
As she worked, her mind was racing. She thought of the last few days, of Jake and how perhaps she still had a chance with him, of her friendship with Emily and how complicated it had become, of the warmth she felt toward Gail, of wanting to see some friends she had not seen since her return, of Hamilton and how abrupt she had been with him. Heather thought of Major Beck, his enigmatic demeanor, of being relieved that she had convinced him of the truth and that he was willing to listen. Heather dwelled on Bart Travers, his blood on her conscience, and wondered about his family and if they were still suffering from her actions.
Time passed, and before she knew it, she was done with about half of the area when her aching hands—she knew she should’ve searched for work gloves—and the waning daylight clued her in that it was time to quit this particular task for the day.
“I know you don’t wanna see me right now, but…”
Heather turned upon hearing the familiar twang, tinged by an unfamiliar tone. Lieutenant Jacob Hamilton’s expression looked so stricken, she immediately dropped her flat-nosed shovel and jogged to where he stood at the edge of the Green yard, asking as she made her way to him, “What is it? What happened?” Her thoughts turned to Jake, fear seizing her. Had Hamilton come to tell her that something had happened to him? No. If he had, he would have appeared regretful, sure, but not like this. Whatever it was, it was personal. His family? But how would he have received word?
“This afternoon, some men on foot patrol found my friend.”
“That should be good news, right?” Her voice sounded hopeful.
“He’s dead.” Hamilton’s jaw clenched, and Heather could see no trace of the easy-going man she’d come to know and appreciate. His hazel eyes were hardened as he uttered, “Some sick bastards set him on fire. Dog tags ID’d him.”
Heather gasped. “Hamilton, I am so sorry!” Beyond that, words escaped her as she reached out to the man before her and embraced him. His arms encircled her as he held her close. Heather could feel the sadness emanating from him, though he neither wept nor moaned. She could feel it in his posture as they held each other, the rigidity of his body in the way his shoulders were squared and the straightness of his back. Pulling away, she sought his eyes, seeing the turmoil there replacing his normal calm.
“Thanks, Dorothy. I know you mean that.” Absently, he pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead and stuck to it. “Good part of the time, Buchs was a jackass, but he was my friend and he had my back. Just wish I woulda had his.”
Heather wiped the dirt from her hands on her jeans before taking his hands and squeezing them reassuringly. “We can’t always stop bad things from happening. You’re a good man, Jacob Hamilton, and any man that you considered a friend must have been worthwhile. I’ll say a prayer for him and for you, too.”
“You’re a believer?” he asked, his voice softening.
“Yeah, I am.”
“That makes me feel better.” The earnest tone in which he spoke drew Heather in, and as he inched closer, she didn’t retreat. “Bein’ with you makes me feel better,” he murmured. And then his lips were on hers, light, caressing, but fleeting. Perhaps she should have seen it coming, but she was still surprised.
If someone had asked her five minutes earlier, Heather would have told him that Hamilton was not the man she wanted to kiss. Even now, her mind raced with recrimination. What are you doing?!?!Yet she did not have the chance to pull away, for Hamilton kept the kiss short and decidedly sweet.
When Hamilton pulled back, Heather could see the rigid look on his features had diminished, replaced by the more familiar agreeable expression he typically wore. He sighed slightly before saying, “Feel like lately all I’ve been doin’ is sayin’ goodbye to you.”
“Goodbye?” Heather repeated.
Hamilton’s expression hardened again as he explained, “C.O.’s ordered a few of us back to New Bern. I’ll be gone a few days. Maybe less. Didn’t want to leave without sayin’ somethin’.”
Heather swallowed hard. “New Bern?”
Hamilton nodded somberly. “Barrett was found on the outskirts.”
Heather’s brows furrowed, an uneasy feeling overtaking her. “I thought with the curfew and the monitoring and the…why? How?”
“That’s what we’re gonna find out, Dorothy. We do know that there’s a resistance group. We’ll definitely be lookin’ to see if they had anything to do with his murder.”
Heather’s mind was spinning. A resistance group? What were they resisting? Had that much changed in the last month? And why would a resistance group single out a military officer who wasn’t high-ranking? As usual, she felt like she had more questions than answers.
As Heather opened her mouth to begin her barrage of questions, Hamilton glanced at his watch, unaware of her state of bafflement—over the kiss and over the information he had offhandedly divulged. “We’re headin’ out in under an hour. I can’t stay.”
“You’ll let me know what you find out, though. Right?”
“Anything I’m allowed to tell you, I will. Stay out of trouble, Dorothy.” And with that, Lt. Jacob Hamilton was on his way.
Heather watched him walk away as the sun disappeared over the horizon. She treaded to where she had left the yard tools, grabbed them, and headed toward the service entrance of the garage, slipping off her shoes before entering.
It was within a few minutes that Heather found herself testing the functionality of the hot water heater as she settled into a balmy shower, washing away the sweat and grime from her afternoon of work. She had yet to go through the bag of clothes Ted sent her through Hamilton. Everything, with perhaps the exception of the clothes she wore to the Black Jack Fairgrounds, had been acquired while in New Bern. Logically, she knew they were just clothes, just things; nevertheless, she had some trepidation about using them.
If only it was as easy to wash away the memories of New Bern as it was to wash away the toil from a hard day’s work.
Jake was going to want answers. She’d been putting him off for days, and he had been patient, which she was quite certain was not his modus operandi. Perhaps it was time. But then there was that part of her that could not bear to see disappointment or worse, pity, fill his features once he heard everything. It was bad enough that Eric thought she was fragile, bad enough for Major Beck, a man she barely knew, to know the extent of what happened in New Bern. But for Jake? For everyone else?
New Bern.
It had once been home. Now she could not escape it, no matter how hard she tried.
What did Hamilton mean by the resistance in New Bern? What was happening there? With Constantino gone, would it change? Or would they finally be able to put the past behind them and move forward?
And then there was Hamilton himself. Heather’s heart went out to him; it was clear the loss of his friend had truly shaken him to his core. When he had kissed her, it was nice—sweet, gentle, much like the man himself. He had reached out to her for human comfort, yet Heather was racked with guilt. She suspected that the kiss meant far more to him than it ever could for her, considering that the more time she spent with Jake, the more connected she felt to him, the more she longed to be with him.
Maybe she should have told Hamilton that, but the timing of it would have been awful. What could she say, “Sorry your best friend just died. By the way, I only like you as a friend”? It was like her father used to always tell her: you don’t kick a man when he’s down. Rule # 18.
After shutting off the water and squeezing the excess moisture from her hair, Heather wrapped herself in a towel and opened the door to dart across the hall into her bedroom. As she did, she saw Jake coming up the stairs.
Heather stuck her head out the bedroom door, noticing that his expression looked weary. She wondered if his first day as sheriff had been trying. “Hey! I want to show you something!”
His face transformed as an impish grin spread across his features. “Show me something?”
“Ha ha. Very funny!” Heather scolded lightly before closing the door to her bedroom and quickly pulling on some of the clothes Gail had secured for her before returning to the hallway. “Do you just wait for me to come out of the shower, Jake Green?”
“Been blessed with good timing is all,” he replied crossing his arms. He paused for a moment, her words sinking in. “Shower? As in…?”
“Yep. I got the hot water heater working.” She took his hand, pulled him into the bathroom, and pointed at the cloudy mirrors. “Look! Bona fide steam!”
“You did it!”
“Mmm. Call it a small victory in the quest for creature comforts.”
“Mom’ll be thrilled.”
Heather leaned against the counter, looking up at Jake. “So how was your first day, Sheriff Green? Everything that you’d hoped it would be?”
“And more,” Jake replied wryly. “Got up close and personal with a bull. Found of that Jimmy Taylor is a fairly spry runner when the occasion calls for it.” That brought a smile to her face. “Talked budgets with Gray and was reminded of why I never wanted to work in an office.” He paused, looking at her significantly. “And I met with Beck. He said you corroborated Eric’s story of what happened in New Bern and gave him more reasons to put Constantino on trial.”
Heather shifted nervously.
He reached out and touched her arm. “Look, I’m not gonna pressure you to tell me about it if you aren’t ready. When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen. I just want to say thank you. Whatever happened in there with Beck, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
“We will talk about it sometime, Jake. I promise. Just not now. Please know that I am okay. About what happened in New Bern, I—I wasn’t raped, and I wasn’t treated as roughly as Eric was.”
Jake was still trying to process the information Heather gave him. Relief washed over him that she had not been violated and that she had not been beaten to the extent that Eric was. Nevertheless, he could not entirely brush aside the haunted expressions that sometimes crossed her features when she didn’t realize she was being observed or the strange comments she and Eric had made to each other. “I’m glad. The thought of—the thought of them hurting you—I never shoulda left you there.”
“This again?” she tried to keep her tone light. “I am fine. Really, Jake. Really.” She took a deep breath. “I’m really glad that Constantino is going to see justice. I know it must’ve been hard on you and Eric both not to charge into New Bern and just take him out.”
“The thought occurred to us,” he admitted.
“What stopped you?”
“Beck. The Army. We knew the town would suffer for it if we did. Tighter restrictions would be imposed. More shoot first, ask questions later.”
“Do you know what’s happening in New Bern?”
“Just rumors. Still in shoot first-ask questions later mode where New Bern’s concerned.”
Heather nodded her understanding. “Hamilton told me a few minutes ago that there’s a resistance movement in New Bern.”
Jake scowled, not entirely sure which part of the information had him reeling more—the fact that Hamilton was still in the picture or the fact that things were getting dicey in New Bern. “What did he say?” Jake’s words were clipped.
Heather’s expression softened as she remembered the news Hamilton delivered. “A buddy of his was found murdered on the outskirts of New Bern.” She cleared her throat, trying to be precise and clinical, but found it difficult to speak of the event dispassionately. “Hamilton and some others have been ordered there to investigate. He mentioned the possibility of the New Bern Resistance being involved.”
“What the hell’s goin’ on over there?” Jake muttered. “This friend of Hamilton’s, why would he be important to a Resistance?”
Heather shook her head. “I don’t know. As far as I know, he was a lieutenant, just like Hamilton. ”
That flew in the face of everything Jake knew about Resistance groups—and he’d had plenty of personal experience with insurgents in his time overseas. Typically attacks were surprise—yes—and brutal. Yet with limited resources and manpower, strikes had to be of strategic value. In thinking of New Bern, it made no sense for the Resistance to target a man who had no strategic importance. The folks in New Bern were nothing if not thorough—also something he knew from personal experience.
A myriad of possibilities entered his mind. Maybe the killing was random; maybe it wasn’t. Either way, was the murder being used as an excuse to filter out those who resented and opposed the Army’s presence in New Bern? Jake sure as hell could rattle off a number of people in Jericho who would love to see the Army leave—and his name would be at the top of that list. As much as a part of him wanted to see some of the folks in New Bern get whatever harsh treatment could be mustered their way, the reality was that what goes around, comes around. What was to prevent the Army from instituting searches in Jericho, arbitrarily deciding who was for them and who was against them? Punishing free speech? Imposing curfews and limitations on meetings?
Did Hawkins know what was happening in New Bern? Damned if Jake knew. He didn’t even know how to get in touch with the man. That was something else they would have to work on—their communication. If Jake was expected to be his eyes and ears in town hall and with the military, they had to figure out a few things.
“So Hamilton told you about this at town hall? He didn’t look upset.” Jake didn’t like Hamilton. There was something too smooth about him, too ‘aww shucks.’ In his experience, if a person seemed too good to be true, he usually was.
Heather shook her head. “No, he stopped by here a little while ago when I was in the back yard. He told me then.”
“If Hamilton says anything else…”
“You know I’ll tell you,” Heather assured him.
Jake nodded slightly. “I’m gonna go start a fire. Think it might get cool tonight.”
“I hope it’ll be warm soon. It’s about time for planting. Stanley will—“ Heather paused, thinking of her friend whom she had still not seen since her return—“Actually, I guess he already is hard at work doing preparations.”
“That’s right. You’ve not seen him since you’ve been back. Hell, for that matter, none of us has seen him in a few days.” Jake frowned, worry etching his features. He had a difficult time wanting to go back to the Richmond Ranch, particularly into the farmhouse, when every time he did, he could vividly feel the ghosts of the past there with him, could even see the body of his father lying on the kitchen table. “I should probably check on him.”
Heather could see the change in Jake’s expression, could tell that he felt the weight of the world on him, some which he shared with her and others, but other things weighed on him, too, things that he would not share. “Stanley’s fine. I’ve not seen him, but I did run into Bonnie earlier today. Before I met with the major. She told me that Stanley proposed to Mimi. Guess you already knew about that.” Heather paused for a moment, reflecting on the fact that there was so much she had missed, that she was in a constantly playing catch up. “Oh, and a Jennings and Rall rep has been out to the farm to talk about an arrangement for back taxes.”
“So much for weeding it down to only one thing in life being certain after the attacks,” Jake muttered morosely.
“You okay?” Heather asked, concern filling her features once again.
“Long day,” Jake replied before starting to head down the stairs, “and it’s only gonna get longer. After I get this fire going, I have something I need to take care of.”
Heather called after him. “It can’t wait until after supper? I think I saw some Ramen noodles in the cupboard…”
Jake stopped his descent. More than anything, he wanted to stay put for the evening, sit in front of the fire with Heather, and laugh until his sides ached, but he couldn’t. Not while being in limbo with Emily. His mother was right. He couldn’t spend time with Heather and be in a relationship with Emily. “I’ve got to see Emily. That can’t wait any longer.”
“Oh.” Jake could see the disappointment cross her features before she covered. “Well, um, I think I may turn in early tonight, so if I don’t see you before I head to bed, good night.” Heather turned and headed into her room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Jake fought the urge to go back up the stairs and…and what? Kiss her? Tell her he was going to Emily’s house to break up? He was afraid that if he went back, he would find reasons to stay home with her. There would be time for that—if she would allow it—but for now, he had a task ahead of him, one that had been a long time in coming.
When Jake found himself on Emily’s doorstep thirty minutes later, he was not sure whether to feel angry or relieved when she finally opened the door. Gray’s comment to him had refreshed in his mind Emily’s duplicity—suggesting to Heather and evidently others that she and Jake were getting married. It was just so damn typical.
“We need to talk.” Jake shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He saw her eyeball the gun holster and sheriff’s badge, but she made no comment about them. Rather, she seemed doggedly focused on the conversation to come, and from the looks of it, she was just as angry as he was.
“We sure do.” Her tone was barely even as she stepped aside to allow Jake entrance into her house.
Jake glanced around the impeccably decorated living room as he walked inside. It bore little resemblance to the modest house on Fascination Street that he’d once shared with Emily. Then again, he supposed that the two of them bore little resemblance to the people they’d been back then.
He knew what he needed to do; some part of him had known from the moment he’d sought her comfort on the porch of Stanley’s farm house. The past was gone. There was no reliving it, no bringing it back. To try was as futile as beating a rock expecting water to spring forth.
Truth be told, he didn’t want to relive it.
Emily glanced toward the kitchen, picturing the table she’d set so perfectly for him. “If you’re here to apologize for missing dinner last night—“
“I’m not.” His words sliced through her attempted scolding. A part of Jake thought that perhaps he should’ve been less abrupt with his response, but after finding out that Emily made Heather believe that the two of them were getting married, he had little patience or inclination for delivering apologetic platitudes. In his mind’s eye, he could see the hurt in Heather’s eyes and hear the resignation in her voice.
“Be gentle with Emily,” his mother had warned him. In watching Emily now, Jake remembered the girl she had been. A damn good catcher in baseball. His best friend. His first lover.
Jake shook his head, looking down momentarily before finding the resolve to look her square in the eyes. How many times in his five years away had he dreamed of having Emily again, of having another chance with her, a chance to set things right? How many times had he ached to pick up the phone and call her only to set it down again knowing she didn’t want to hear his voice? Worse yet, feeling as though he was the one who had taken every shred of happiness away from her. He had told himself that he’d moved on, but he hadn’t, not when so much of himself had to been tied to her.
She was the one who got away, as he’d told Freddie. He’d idealized her, and all those issues they had before he left, those issues that were never resolved, issues that were only compounded by Chris’s death, appeared frequently with the subtlety of an elephant in the room.
Emily felt her face grow warm. Jake’s simple words alternately stunned and stung her. Her voice lowered as she crossed her arms, hugging her lean body. Her eyes caught his, and she understood why he had finally shown. “Don’t. Don’t do this. Not now.”
It was time to let go, for both of their sakes. “Em.”
Hearing Jake use his nickname for her only made Emily feel more anguished. His voice no longer held the softness when he said it. His voice was brusque and final. So final. The lump that formed in her throat was a tangible reaction to what she knew was coming, but still, she fought against it. “Don’t,” she repeated lifting her hands in an ineffectual attempt to conduct the conversation.
“I have to.” He took a deep breath. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d broken up, but it would be the last. “It’s time for us to move on. It’s not working between us, and it’s never going to.”
Just like that? Just like that?!?!
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
Denial. Jake was familiar with this, as well. When Emily was told something she didn’t want to hear, she denied it. It was that way when he told her he was going away to Embry Riddle. It was that way when he told her he’d taken a job with her father to stay near Jericho and support her so she could finish her degree. It was that way now, so many years later.
“We aren’t happy together.” The calm with which Jake spoke scared Emily more than if she’d antagonized him into a screaming match as she had been wont to do in the past. His words were calculated, measured, not off the cuff. Emily knew he truly believed what he was saying.
Panic rose within her. Her indignation over the missed dinner evaporated, replaced with desperation. “Don’t you see? We never had the chance to be happy, but it doesn’t have to be like this! We can have what we once did. All we have to do is try! We’re the same as we always were, Jake. Just older.” She reached out and clasped his arms, in part to emphasize her sincerity and partly to steady herself. “You and me against the world. Remember?”
Tears clouded Emily’s eyes, and the room spun around her like a kaleidoscope of images. She remembered another time when tears had filled her eyes, a time when he’d been there to take away her tears, not cause them.
They were little more than kids as he approached her where she sat alone in the bleachers at the ball field. The crowd had left long ago, leaving behind the scent of stale popcorn to mix with the aroma of freshly-cut grass. They also left behind a thirteen year old girl who had a way of lifting her chin in defiance even as the comments of those around her tore her down.
Emily saw Jake approaching and turned her body, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. They’d been going steady for two whole weeks and had been best friends for a lot longer, but she still wasn’t ready for him to see her cry.
Jake settled next to her and patted her back awkwardly. “Don’t let ‘em get to you, Em.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted pulling her ball cap tighter to her head, using the bib to obscure her eyes somewhat. “I’m used to it, you know? ‘Jonah Prowse is a louse’ and all that. It’s…it’s just not easy having everyone know what he did. I just wish they’d forget about it.”
“If they don’t leave you alone, I’ll make ‘em forget,” Jake replied gruffly balling his right hand into a fist and pounding it against the palm of his left hand.
“You gonna beat up everyone in the eighth grade, Jake?” The smallest hint of amusement played in her voice, despite the heaviness in her heart.
“I’ll take on the whole world if I have to. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Em.”
“And you could do it. And I’d be right there with you. You and me against the world. Of course,” she added with a frown,” if you get into another fight, it’s totally gonna piss off your dad.”
“I can handle him. ‘Sides, he’s too busy telling everyone else how to run their lives to care what I do.”
Emily rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. She knew that Jake didn’t get along with his dad all the time, but she would’ve given anything to have a dad like Johnston Green. “At least your dad’s not in prison,” Emily replied glumly.
“Your dad doesn’t make you who you are, just like mine doesn’t make me who I am.”
“But I’m just ‘that Prowse girl’ to everyone around here.” Emily thought she would’ve done anything to escape her father’s notoriety. Maybe if she lived somewhere else, no one would ever have to know… “ You ever think about leaving this place?”
“All the time. Sometimes when Gramps takes me up in his crop duster, I wish we’d just keep going instead of circling around and landing.”
“I wanna go with you, Jake,” Emily said suddenly.
“In Gramps’s crop duster?” Jake frowned. The plane was a small two-seater, and he wasn’t allowed to fly by himself yet.
“Away from here. When you go, I wanna go with you. You and me against the world. Right?”
Jake cleared his throat and extricated himself from Emily’s grasp, bringing her to the present. “No, we’re not the same, and we’re not kids anymore. You want something I can’t give you, Emily.”
“All I want is you.”
“No, you don’t. You want to keep reliving the past, and I don’t.”
“Jake—“
Jake’s calm began to edge away replaced by exasperation. “No, I don’t want to go back there! I don’t want to remember that punk, that kid who had no character and was constantly looking for trouble and who was damn good at finding it.”
Emily leaned against the wall, sinking down until she hit the floor. “Why did you even do it? Why did you come back here, turn my life upside down, and make me love you all over again, if you were only going to run out on me again? I don’t deserve this, Jake!”
Jake exhaled loudly. He felt like he was sinking in quicksand. The more he struggled against Emily, the faster he would sink. No, he needed to get this over and get out.
“What have I ever done to you except love you?” She spoke with such animation that her golden waves fell across her cheeks, stuck there by the tears that had finally spilled. With ferocity, she brushed the hair from her face with her slender fingers.
“Is that really what you think?” Anger flashed in his eyes. “How can you say you love me when you don’t trust me? I can see in your expression, in your words that you’re just waiting for me to screw up. And for what? So you can punish me over and over again? Dammit, Emily, we bring out the worst in each other, and I’m not going to spend my whole life walking on eggshells!”
Emily lifted her chin, only one small outward sign of her changing demeanor. “Do you even know what today is?”
Jake racked his brain. Up until Heather returned, the days had run together, one day much like the one before. What the hell was she getting at anyway?
When Jake didn’t immediately reply, Emily filled in the blanks for him. “April 13.”
And then the date hit Jake like a ton of bricks, and he could see the blotchiness in Emily’s cheeks that he’d mistaken for mere anger. He took a deep breath trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Chris’s birthday.”
She stood, pushing aside her moment of weakness, gathering strength as she pressed a familiar issue. “He would’ve been twenty-eight today, and we should’ve been together celebrating. Not—not this. That is why I have difficulty trusting.”
Jake swallowed hard, memories flooding his mind of the day that changed everything for them. He remembered her blistering words, the way she literally tore their little house apart as she threw things at him. Emily had needed some way to channel her grief and anger, and he had been the most convenient target. Logically, he knew this. He could even accept it on some level now that he’d had some distance from the situation. Yet every time he thought he had a handle on that part of his past, she dragged him back there with her. It was his fault, she’d told him over and over. He may as well have pointed the gun at Chris’s head and pulled the trigger himself.
No. Not this time. “We’re not going to do this again.”
Anger blazed in her eyes. “I deserve to be heard out. You owe me!”
“I owe you?” Jake’s tone echoed the incredulity he felt as pieces of a puzzle began to fall into place. She’d said what he’d felt for so long—that he owed her something, that he needed to make up for what had gone wrong in the past. Yet hearing her now, seeing the tumult in her eyes and the hardness of her features, Jake finally recognized the absurdity of her statement.
“I needed you here with me last night, Jake! We needed it, for us, but you stood me up! You told me you’d be here and instead you were with Heather at the ranch doing God knows what! I should be used to it, right? You told me you’d take care of Chris, and you didn’t. He’s not here to celebrate his birthday because he’s dead! You said you’d always be here for me, and you walked away.” Her laundry list of his misdeeds was punctuated by her finger jabbing him in the chest.
And so it came back to this. They were back to the beginning of the end.
He brushed her hand away. “Done yet?”
“What? You have something more important you have to do?”
Jake balled his fists. Sometimes at night, when he tried to fall asleep, he would see faces, the faces of people he had encountered in his life, people he couldn’t save. The little girl in Iraq. Freddie. Randy Payton. Chris Prowse. His father.
“Enough! Don’t you think I wish Chris was here, too? Don’t you?”
She said nothing, merely glared.
“You’re not the only person who lost him, Emily!”
“He was my little brother!”
Jake’s voice boomed. “Who was grown up and made a choice! You’re so keen on people paying for mistakes, right? That mistake’s already been bought and paid for. How about placing the blame where it belongs?”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me!”
“And I can’t believe that after all this time you’re still trying to hold me hostage with guilt! Worse yet, I’ve been a damn fool for falling for it!”
Emily clenched his arm before pushing against it roughly. “Hold you hostage? What’s that supposed to mean? No one has ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do, Jake Green.”
“I’ve been eaten up with guilt over what happened to Chris for nearly six years now. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought through my last conversation with him, wondering if I’d said something different, done something different, that I could’ve changed his mind?”
“How sad for you,” her voice caustic.
“Is this what you want for yourself? Always living in the past? Choking on your misery?” He began for the door, but Emily hurriedly intercepted him, planting herself against the door.
“So how was it, Jake?” she challenged.
“Move out of the way.” He didn’t want to have to move her himself, but he would if necessary. He needed to get away from her—and fast. This part of himself that he’d tried to bury, this dark part of himself, was threatening to rear its ugly head.
But Emily stayed put, her feet virtually planted on the floor. “I know why you weren’t here last night. And it explains a hell of a lot today, why you’ve suddenly decided that we aren’t ‘good’ for each other.” She smiled bitterly. “Didn’t take the two of you long, did it? You wonder why I have a hard time trusting you?” Her smiled faded. “Maybe I’d find you more trustworthy if you weren’t fucking my best friend behind my back.”
“That is bullshit! Heather has too much respect for you and for herself to be in that situation! And I would never do that to you, either. I’m not that type of man, but you never noticed. This isn’t about Heather. This is about you. This is about me.”
“It is about Heather. How long until the sheen wears off, Jake? What then? Are you going to toss her aside, too? You are pathetic.”
“You want to talk pathetic? Making Heather believe that you and I were going to get married? And for what? Because you felt threatened? First and foremost, Heather is my friend and yours. What you tried to do to her—“
“What I tried to do to her?” The lump was forming in her throat again, and fresh tears filled her eyes. “I care about Heather, enough to want her away from you. You destroy everything you touch, and I am living proof of that. And still, here I am, standing before you, despite the fact that you turned your back on my brother, despite the fact that you turned your back on me. I am standing before you wanting to reach out, wanting to know what I can do.”
“Emily.” Her name came out as a sigh. “Move on. There’s nothing left here. I should’ve told you that as soon as I realized.”
“But there’s something with Heather?” Emily swallowed hard. “She’ll never be able to do for you what I can do for you, Jake. You know how good it can be between us.”
“This isn’t about Heather,” he repeated. “I don’t like who I am when I’m with you.”
“No, of course not. But you see the bright, innocent, hopeful looks she gives you. She doesn’t know you. Not like I do. When she does, do you really think she’s going to keep looking at you like that?”
“There is something broken in you, Emily. Has been for as long as I’ve known you.”
Emily was momentarily stunned into silence, their conversation so reminiscent of the ones she had heard between her parents growing up. She loved her mother. Even now, she wished her mother had fought to live, but at times Emily hated her mother.
This was one of those times. For as much as people reviled Jonah Prowse and said that Emily was her father’s daughter, Emily was also her mother’s daughter. Jonah Prowse had been her mother’s undoing, and Emily was in jeopardy of letting Jake Green be her undoing.
A dangerous glint filled Emily’s eyes as she forced herself to straighten her posture and lift her chin in defiance. “Right.” Sarcasm tinged her voice. “And you had nothing to do with that.” Emily inched away from the door and ran her hands down her abdomen, pulling at the hem of her shirt. “You know what, Jake? I can do this on my own. I don’t need you.” Her hand went to the doorknob, and she pulled the door ajar.
Jake opened his mouth to speak, decided against it, and made his way outside. The door slammed behind him, and as he walked down the driveway, he was fairly certain he could discern the sound of glass shattering.
to be continued in chapter 14...