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.
Chapter 14
Blood dripped off her hands, warm, slick. It fell in droplets on the beige, speckled tiles, splattering. The scent of copper filled her nostrils, as the taste of bile filled her mouth. She wiped her hands on her jeans, but still the blood fell, its crimson now cascading in a steady stream. What had been splatters was now a deepening pool. Blood washed over her feet, rising to her ankles. Overwhelmed with a sudden desperation, she tried to move toward the door, only to find her feet refusing the command her brain screamed, unable to move through what was beginning to be a flood of the warm liquid. In glancing frantically around the room, she saw that her hands were not the only source of the scarlet fluid. Blood seeped through the walls, streaking down the ivy-laden wallpaper.
Waist high now, immobile, she tried to shout, to beg, to pray. The words would not form.
And then she saw his body float toward her in the ever deepening flood, the khaki of his uniform imperceptible in the torrent of red. His eyes were fixed upward, empty. And as he came closer, her impulse to flee strengthened, only to be countered by a stronger force which held her in place.
She couldn’t close her eyes to look away, nor could she turn her head.
But he could.
With the suddenness of a striking snake, his head turned, his once blank stare filled with hate. “You did this to me.”
And then she was pulled under. The liquid filled her lungs, edging out the last of her breath.
Everything was black.
With a gasp, Heather jerked away, sitting upright in bed. Her hand fumbled for the nightstand she knew to be next to her, seeking the lamp. Finding the switch, light filled the decidedly cheerful yellow—not red—room. Still, her heart felt as though it would come from her chest. And though the specters that clung to the edges of her consciousness faded significantly, she could not shake the horror, the guilt, even knowing that she would do it all over again if she had to.
This had to end. The last few weeks, waking in terror, were taking a toll on her. The previous night had been the exception. She had slept deeply at the ranch with Jake in a nearby chair.
But, she reminded herself, Jake’s not available to chase away the nightmares. He had left hours earlier to see Emily, and as far as Heather knew, he was not back. At least, she hadn’t heard him make his way up the stairs, and it had to be late. Even if he was back, she didn’t want to depend on him—or anyone else—to make things right for her. Besides, if he started asking questions again…
She ran her hands through her hair before settling back on the pillow, the lamp still on. She closed her eyes, hoping to find the ever elusive good night’s sleep, but when she tried, she kept replaying the dream in her head. Finally, she threw aside the comforter and pulled on the old sweatpants she had worn the night before at the ranch to accompany the too large t-shirt of Jake’s that Gail had given her to sleep in. Trudging down the stairs barefooted, she headed toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
As she did, she spotted the light on in the living room and saw Jake sitting on the sofa with a photo album open across his lap, his eyes closed. She hesitated for a moment, watching him sleep, wondering what he dreamt. Finally, she walked to where he slept and gently put her hand on his shoulder to awaken him.
“Jake,” she said softly.
And suddenly his hand was clenched around her wrist, a surprisingly quick and strong reaction to her attempt to rouse him. His eyes flew open, still bleary, but focused enough to realize that she was no threat to him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured releasing her wrist. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. I—I didn’t mean to startle you. I just—I just thought that you’d rather sleep upstairs. In your bed, that is, rather than on the couch.”
Jake rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Not sure. Late.”
Jake’s eyes finally were able to center fully on her, clad in his t-shirt and too big sweat pants, her hair slightly rumpled, her feet bare. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was thirsty. I came down to get a drink of water.” She glanced down noticing the album in his lap. “Hmmm, so you’re a sentimental guy after all?”
Her teasing tone brought a hint of a smile to his lips. “Nah. My mom had these sitting out. Guess I was just feeling nostalgic tonight. Not sentimental.”
Heather looked down and saw pictures from what must have been a family vacation. She easily recognized Johnston and Gail, along with Jake and Eric, in front of Mount Rushmore. The red and white baseball shirt Jake wore, along with the cut off jeans looked unkempt compared to Eric with his tucked in polo-style shirt and khaki shorts. Even then they had a style all their own. “Sometimes it’s nice to look back.”
“Sometimes,” Jake replied cryptically, his levity gone, “but it’s better to look forward.” That had been one of the hardest lessons Jake had learned over the last six plus months. People are shaped by their pasts, yes, but that shape is not predetermined.
“I can’t argue with you there.” Her thoughts returned to her dream, its images still so fresh in her mind. And why wouldn’t they be? The room in the dream, the blood on her hands, both had been real. What purpose did it serve to continually rehash that night? If she had not done what she did, Eric would be dead. If she had to do it all over again, she would have done the same thing, nightmares notwithstanding.
So looking forward sounded wonderful.
Delightful.
Preferable.
Easy said than done.
Logically, she knew she was not a cold-blooded killer. Emotionally, she was all over the place. Even if Bart Travers wasn’t a good man, he was still a human being. He had a family, kids who loved him.
‘Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.’ “Okay. Well, I’m gonna get that glass of water and head back upstairs,” she said as lightly as she could muster.
Jake furrowed his brows as he watched a cavalcade of expressions cross her face finally settling on one of neutrality. She was masking something, he could tell, for Heather was many things, but neutral was not one of them. He reached out and captured her hand, tenderly compared to his automatic reaction upon waking. “Heather, wait.”
She sucked in a breath when she felt the gentle tug he gave her, urging her to sit next to him without actually saying the words. Was he about to tell her that he and Emily had talked through what happened? That they realized it was all a silly misunderstanding? Was she going to get the ‘You’re a good friend but only a friend’ spiel? She could do without that. She didn’t need a speech from him to know that what she felt for him was impossible and that he had likely realized that, too, upon seeing Emily. “What is it?”
Jake sought her eyes, made difficult by the fact that she kept averting them. Her brows were creased slightly, the mask of a moment ago slipping, and she lightly chewed her bottom lip. To him, she looked almost pained by sitting there with him, and he wondered whether he should broach the subject. Yet he couldn’t stand for Heather to think that his time away that evening had been a happy reunion with Emily. Not when all he wanted to do was pull her close, keep her there. He had been cagey in the past where she was concerned, keeping her out when he should have let her in; he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. “When I went to Emily’s house tonight, it wasn’t a date. We broke up.”
“Oh, um, wow.” She felt at a loss for words. She knew that Jake had been furious with Emily the day before, but she never imagined that the two would break up. Granted, she never saw a reunion between them as an inevitability as, say, Emily did, but with their shared history, of how they were always drawn to one another, Jake’s words seemed surreal. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” she finally managed. That was what one was supposed to say. Right? Instead, it felt foreign as it rolled off her lips.
“You are?” He shot her an incredulous look, mingled with something else she couldn’t quite identify.
“Okay. That sounded lame,” she admitted shaking her head. What did she feel? She wasn’t entirely sorry, for this breakup meant Jake was no longer attached, and maybe what seemed like such a beautiful dream at the ranch could be a reality for them both. Yet pleased that they had broken up wasn’t quite the right description, either. After all, these were her friends above all else. It didn’t make her feel good if either of them was in pain. “Look, I want you to be happy. I want Emily to be happy.”
“We weren’t happy,” Jake replied adamantly. “I could bore you with the details—and maybe someday I will—but I was never going to make Emily happy. She wants something I can’t give her.”
“Marriage.” Emily’s announcement that Jake was the man she was going to marry came back to her, as did the hurt that Heather felt when her friend revealed the “engagement.” Heather tried to push those thoughts away. How she felt about what happened wasn’t important right now.
Jake scowled, remembering his conversation with Emily, the fact that it was Chris’s birthday, the fact that despite all that had happened between them, she had not let go of the idea that he was responsible for her brother’s death. “She wants to redo the past.”
Heather shifted on the sofa, turning her body so that she could better face him, pulling her left leg under herself. “You okay?” She squeezed his hand lightly.
Jake considered her question for a moment. Five and a half years ago when he tore out of town after Chris’s death, after Emily’s abject rejection of him, he felt like he had lost everything he knew and everyone he loved. He drifted, searching for a way to dull the loss, getting into situations along the way that were beyond reckless, situations that any sane man would have avoided. They had nearly caught up with him before his return to Jericho.
Now he was disappointed, sure. After all, he had spent years idealizing something that didn’t exist, hoping for what had once been comfortable to still fit. But he was also surprised. Surprised that he didn’t feel any sense of desperation as he did when he and Emily parted in the past, surprised that above all else, he felt relief.
“I’m fine. Think I’ve known all along it wasn’t going to work. Just didn’t want to face it.”
Silence hung in the air between them for a moment.
Heather leaned her head against the sofa and finally spoke. “How did she seem to you?”
Jake drew in a breath, filled with awe. Despite the obvious disintegration of Heather’s friendship with Emily, Heather was still concerned for her. The worry was evident from the tone of her voice to the widening of her blue eyes. This only reinforced, in his mind, what he had told Heather the day before. She was a far better friend than Emily deserved.
How did she seem? Hurt, angry, bitter, irrational. All those words came to mind. It was as though he had stirred a hornet’s nest, and though much of her ire was directed at him, Jake was worried that Heather would get in Emily’s crossfire, be stung by her venom. “I think you’ll want to steer clear of her for a few days.”
“Why?”
“She’ll need time to calm down.” He noted the confusion that infiltrated her features. He explained further, “She thinks that we’re sleeping together.”
Heather pulled her hand away from him and sat up straight. “What?”
“Because we stayed at the ranch together last night, because you’re staying here, because she’s insecure. Take your pick.” His tone had grown harsh, and he caught himself, softening it before continuing, “I told her she was wrong, but she didn’t want to hear it.”
“But you would never…! I would never…!” Heather crossed her arms, hugging herself. She wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, sad, or just incredibly guilty. “Jake, I’m sorry. My being here—it’s made things difficult for you.”
“You’re wrong. Your being here has made things easier. Much easier. And brighter. You have no idea…,” his voice trailed off. He looked down at the photo album, still on his lap, and moved it to the coffee table. Then, turning his body, he rested his right arm on the back of the sofa, leaning slightly toward her as he spoke. “What was going on with Emily and me—it’s been this struggle for years. Like a tug of war or a game where no one ever wins. It’s not anything you’ve done, Heather. Emily needs someone to blame for what’s wrong in her life. If it wasn’t you or me, it could have been anyone else.”
“But it’s not anyone else, and here I am, still with you, the very thing that she feared. Emily sensed I was untrustworthy where you’re concerned, and she acted on it. I wasn’t going to…to…act on anything, but I can’t help but feel like a hypocrite because I wanted to, Jake. Last night, I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted to be close to you. I never wanted to leave the ranch. I don’t blame her for being upset with us.”
Jake could barely believe his ears. Was Heather defending Emily, on the one hand, while acknowledging that there was something between them on the other? “I care about you. As more than a friend,” he added gruffly. “And I’m not going to apologize for that!” He took a deep breath, calming himself. This was not how he planned to tell Heather he had feelings for her, but it was time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “I want a chance, Heather. I want to know everything about you, to spend time with you. Maybe I don’t have the right to ask that of you, maybe you think it’s too soon, but I’m asking anyway. Will you let us see where this connection takes us?”
Heather’s face felt warm, and her heart pounded in her chest. ‘Oh wow. This is what you’ve wanted. Are you going to shy away, play it safe because that’s what you’ve always done, or are you going to live life like you mean it?’ The time for playing it safe was over. If nothing else taught her that, then the experiences of the last six months certainly drove home that point. Life was both precious and precarious.
“Yesterday, when we were at the ranch, I realized just how much I want that same chance.” Her breath caught within her as she felt his hand stroke her hair. A wry smile filled her features. “Mary told me to stop being a martyr.”
“And she’s right. Remind me to thank her next time I see her.” The joviality that filled his voice made Heather’s stomach do somersaults. “To think that a week ago, we thought you were never coming back.”
Heather groaned slightly. “A week ago, I had my doubts. Our Army friends weren’t very receptive to my wish to come back here at first.”
A week ago, Jake had been in a dark place. He went through the motions of living, but he didn’t feel alive. Now, all of that had changed. Heather Lisinski was a major contributing factor to that change. “I’m not sentimental. Damn well wish I was, so I could put into words what your being here means to me.”
His hand relaxed at the nape of her neck, and Heather found herself drawing closer to him until she rested the palm of her hand against his chest. Through the thin material of his t-shirt, Heather could feel his heart beating, so steady, so strong. Her own heartbeat felt so erratic, or were those the butterflies? She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that this man, this incredible man, had her heart, no convincing necessary.
“Jake…” Hearing her say his name, so much like she did when they first met on the school bus on the day of the attacks, stirred him. “…you’re doing just fine with your words.”
He edged closer to her, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m much better at expressing myself with action.”
“Maybe we should…”
The sound of the front door closing startled them from their closeness. Gail Green walked in, pulling off the jacket she wore as she did. “I thought April was supposed to be a warm month.” She looked to her son and Heather who sat on the couch, Jake with a look of exasperation on his face and Heather with a soft blush on her cheeks. Gail had no doubt in her mind that he had interrupted something. “You two are up late.”
“I came downstairs to get a glass of water.” Heather’s face grew hotter, realizing that she still hadn’t made it to the kitchen, a fact that wouldn’t be lost on Jake’s mom if she glanced around and saw that there was nary a used drinking glass in sight.
“And I haven’t made it to bed yet. Wanted to make sure you got home before I did.”
“And so the child becomes the parent,” Gail remarked.
“How were things at the med center tonight?”
“Moderately busy. Looks like there’s a stomach virus going around.”
“Maybe you should go take a nice, hot shower. Wash off the germs.”
A smile crossed Gail’s features as she did a double-take. “Did you say ‘hot’ shower? You fixed the hot water heater?”
“Not me,” Jake corrected pointing at Heather with his thumb. “She did.”
“Oh, Heather, thank you so much! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me!”
“I’m just glad I could help,” Heather replied simply. “Hopefully before too long, it’ll be easier to get replacement parts or, for that matter, replacements when needed.”
“I’m not holding my breath,” Gail replied, her voice tinged with wryness. “You know, we can’t even call medical supply companies that we know are still in business. Can’t get a phone line out of this town. Everything has to go through Jennings & Rall. We give them the requisition form, and they supply what we need—or what they deem we need. I don’t like relying on them.”
Jake and Heather locked eyes for a moment, a look passing between them that was not lost on Gail. “What?”
“It’s nothing,” Jake replied. “Just government bureaucracy for you. The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
Gail sighed. “I guess I should just be glad that things have gotten better, that we are actually getting food and medical supplies into town, that repairs are being made.”
“True,” Heather agreed. “It could be a lot worse.” She paused for a moment. “Of course, that’s what people always say in movies right before it gets worse. Whoops.”
“Good thing this is real life then,” Gail commented. “Jake, could you help me carry my bag upstairs? I’m just dead on my feet.”
“Sure.” As the two walked up the stairs, Jake bristled mildly, “Real subtle, Mom.”
When they were in the upstairs hallway, Gail stopped walking and turned to her son. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Heather, but Emily came in to the med center tonight.”
“She did? What was wrong?”
“Well, she refused to talk to me about what happened, but from the looks of it, she cut her hand pretty badly. Kenchy stitched her up, spent quite awhile with her, talking about something. I heard your name mentioned, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.”
Jake clenched his jaw. He had heard the breaking glass when he left her house, but he had been so eager to remove himself from the situation, he had not checked on her. “Her hand?”
Gail understood what Jake was getting at. “Not her wrist,” Gail affirmed. “Not like her mother.”
Jake ran his hand across his forehead absently. “Checking on her would probably make things worse.”
“Probably, if what I think happened has. You two break up?”
“Yeah.”
“Give her time. She has wounded emotions and wounded pride, especially if you and Heather…”
“You think I shouldn’t rush into starting something with Heather.”
“It’s not my call. You two need to do what’s right for you, not what’s right for Emily or me or anyone else. That’s your call. And Heather’s.”
“I didn’t break up with Emily for Heather.”
“But…”
“But there’s something there, and I plan to see it through.”
Gail squeezed Jake’s arm. “Heather’s a good girl, and I really like her, Honey.”
“I’ve never known anyone like her.”
Gail smiled. “She is special, but then again, I think you’re pretty special, too.” She kissed Jake on the cheek. “Now I’m going to try that hot water.”
Jake turned on his heels and jaunted back downstairs. When he headed into the living room, he saw Heather stretched across the sofa, eyes closed, fast asleep. He thought about rousing her to at least get her upstairs to her room, but thought better of it when he saw the look of contentment on her sleeping face. He pulled an afghan from a nearby chest and spread it over her sleeping form. She stirred slightly, but he kissed her forehead lightly and whispered, “Sshhh. Go back to sleep.”
He grabbed a photo album, settling in his father’s oversized chair, stretching his legs on the ottoman. Yet before long, his lids, too, became heavy. As sleep overtook him, a thought repeated in his mind. I’ve never known anyone like her.
“Military’s crawling all over the place.” Nathan Travers released his hold on the slatted blinds and turned back to his companion. “You sure about this?”
The red haired woman looked at her brother. With his hair cropped short, his cheeks cleanly shaven, and the pilfered uniform he wore, he could have fooled her if she didn’t know better. “You should blend right in.”
“And if someone stops me? What then? I can’t work my way through every damn soldier. Just got lucky with the one. He didn’t see it coming. These guys—they’re on alert. Maybe Constantino….”
“No,” she hissed. “We agreed he wouldn’t be involved in this! The fact that—“ she lowered her voice trying to steady her emotions. “The fact that he insisted Dad’s death be kept quiet showed me one thing, Nate. We’re in this together. Just you and me. Not Phil Constantino. Heather Lisinski got away with murder, and everyone thinks our dad tucked tail and ran. Do you have any idea how that eats at me? Any idea at all?”
Nathan sat on the sofa and cradled his head in his hands. “Yeah, Nora, I do.”
The young woman knelt in front of her brother. The last thing she needed was for him to fall apart, but this was getting to be their pattern. He’d have doubts, and she’d pull him through. She’d have doubts, and he’d pull her through. But they were close. So close. All Nate had to do was follow through with his part of the plan; she would do her part. Then they would finally have what they had worked toward for the last month. After that…ideally, they’d resume their lives as normal, but she did have to allow for the possibility that it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Killing an Army lieutenant was no frivolous matter. Growing up the children of a police officer, they knew that the police took care of their own—or at least, they used to. Nora suspected the military wouldn’t be any different.
“About Constantino--he’s not a factor anymore. I heard he’s being taken to Cheyenne.”
“So it really is you and me.” The man looked at his younger sister and could see the determination in her expression.
“Yeah. And no matter what, we do this.” Nora stood and walked to the dining room table, pulling a powder blue polo shirt from a paper bag.
“What’s that?”
With a raised brow, she replied, “My ticket into Jericho.”
to be continued in Chapter 15...