Different Circumstances: Part 5B of ?
by Marzee Doats
Author's Note & Acknowledgment: Last time I was obsessed with gasoline supplies on Jericho. Now I'm obsessed with how they're going to get shoes when the ones they have run out, but I at least didn't put that in this section! Jake quotes a line from the song "Modern Woman" from the Billy Joel album The Bridge. These are the dangers of writing with your iPod on shuffle.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs
"It looks like we're going camping," Heather observed, shining her flashlight over the water tower's small observation deck. When she'd arrived at the Green Ranch, Jake had told her that he'd already taken up most of what they'd need for their evening, but she certainly hadn't envisioned all this. He had obviously gone to a lot of work. There were two folding camp chairs, sleeping bags, a pile of blankets, three lanterns, a boom box-style radio, and a small telescope, already set up. Heather looked back over her shoulder, smiling. "You thought of everything," she complimented. "Were you a Boy Scout?"
"Never was a Boy Scout," Jake laughed in return. He lowered his backpack to the deck, and then helped Heather take hers off. "But Gramps and my Dad were both Army Rangers, so certain things have been drilled in."
"Ah, the grown up version of the Boy Scouts," she teased, turning to press herself against Jake, kissing him softly. "Well, thank you," Heather murmured, holding his gaze with her own. "This is amazing."
"You're welcome," he answered, offering her a pleased grin. Jake carried their packs to the built-in bench, propping hers against the side of the tower and then opening his own. He pulled out two thermoses and set them on the bench. "Red's coffee, blue's hot chocolate," he explained unnecessarily. He'd refused her offer of help as he'd prepared the drinks to bring with them, but she'd stayed in the kitchen with him while he'd worked. "Though think about it before you have any," Jake advised. "The one thing we don't have is a toilet. For that we have to walk back to the house, or at least to the hospital barn."
"Thanks for the reminder," she chuckled. "I don't think I'm climbing back up here tonight if I have to climb down to go to the bathroom."
Heather was a city girl, born and raised, and while she was enjoying the experience of living in Jericho and was even coming to love it in Kansas, it still had never occurred to her that the walk from the ranch house to the water tower would be pitch dark except for the flashlight Jake had handed her as they'd walked out the door. When they'd reached the water tower she'd looked up into the darkness and had suffered a moment of panic. There had been no disguising it from Jake, and while he'd teased Heather gently, saying he couldn't believe that she was afraid of the dark, he'd also made it clear that if she wanted to turn around and go back, that was fine with him. "But, I'll be right behind you climbing up," he'd promised, "I won't let anything happen."
That had been all she needed. Heather, standing there in the dark, watching him by the dim beam of her flashlight, realized that she trusted Jake Green to keep her safe. So, she'd told him that the only things she was afraid of these days were tornadoes, and by the way, he was completely to blame for that. Jake had laughed, acknowledging his culpability without apologizing, and then he'd kissed her. Finally, Heather had walked to the ladder on the side of the water tower, and prepared herself for the climb. Jake had followed her up closely, ensuring her safety.
"And, I have dessert," Heather said, joining Jake at the bench and opening her own backpack. She pulled out the sealed plastic bag of cookies that his grandfather had presented her with following dinner, and set it on the bench. Next, she pulled out a folded and laminated chart of the solar system and constellations which Jake had already spied earlier when they had packed up for the evening. "What can I say?" she grinned sheepishly. I'm a teacher and a wannabe mad scientist."
Jake leaned over, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Are you saying you studied for our date?" he breathed against her skin, barely whispering.
"Maybe," she admitted, giggling. Heather moved her head, deliberately bringing her mouth into full contact with Jake's. The star chart dropped, momentarily forgotten, from her grasp as he pulled her into his embrace while she cupped the back of Jake's head with both hands. "Maybe I did," she repeated, opening her mouth slightly to him.
"So, Miss Mad Scientist," Jake said when they finally pulled away from one another, "I'm guessing you're about dying to get to that telescope."
Heather grinned. "Well, you know," she shrugged.
"Go ahead," Jake told her. "I think my ego can take it. For a little while, anyway."
"We can share," Heather offered, tugging on his hand.
Jake shook his head. "Gimme a minute," he requested, pointing her toward the telescope.
Heather retrieved her astronomical chart from the deck and flashlight from the bench. Throwing Jake one more delighted smile, she took the three steps to the telescope, and began to examine it. Jake watched her as she looked up at the night sky, and then unfolded her chart, examining it by the light of her flashlight, before looking up at the sky again. He could tell that Heather was already absorbed in what she was doing, and probably would be for awhile.
Chuckling soundlessly, Jake grabbed two of the lanterns he'd brought up earlier in the day, and lit them, setting them so that they burned low, giving off just enough light to allow them to move around safely. Silently, he placed one on the deck next to the telescope for Heather, earning him another slightly distracted smile, and then carried the other one back to the bench where he turned on the radio. He tuned it to a station they had already managed to agree on earlier in the week, as their tastes in music overlapped somewhat though nowhere near completely. Jake adjusted the volume so they could hear without being distracted by it, and sat back to watch Heather in her element.
"Do you want a turn?" she asked a few minutes later, looking up to catch him staring at her. "I've got Mars," Heather added, grinning. "That's an easy one to find. Tried to look at the moon, but it started to give me a headache."
Standing, Jake nodded. "Yeah, it's a powerful telescope for its size." He moved to Heather's side, and she stepped out of the way, encouraging him to look through the eyepiece. "Not bad," he murmured, taking in the sight of their neighboring planet. "That's as good of a view as I've ever seen," he told her.
"I'm gonna try to find Alpha Centauri," Heather decided, flashing a quick smile at Jake. "When you're through."
He laughed, enjoying her enthusiasm. "Have at it," he encouraged, stepping sideways. "Find your star." She slid past him, grinning at Jake when he caught her hand in his own, and then kissed her knuckles before letting her continue.
Heather went back to work, consulting her chart, and then adjusting the telescope. Jake pulled one of the camp chairs closer and sat down. After a few minutes, she had found her star, and she invited Jake to take a look. That's how it went for the next half hour. Heather soon gave up on stars, returning to their own solar system, trying to find each of the planets, and when she had something in view she'd make Jake take his turn. Jake took each opportunity to touch or kiss her, and Heather soon found her interest in the heavens to be waning as he waged his campaign of distraction.
Finally, still smiling, she folded her chart up and returned it to her backpack. Then, she moved to Jake's chair, where she settled herself sideways in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Giving up?" Jake asked a moment later, exhaling deeply, his forehead pressed against hers.
"Just for now," Heather answered, shaking her head. "I can get lost in the details, so now I figure, take a step back, look up," she suggested, doing just that. "Take everything in."
He nodded his agreement, and taking advantage of the fact that her neck was elongated as she watched the sky, pressed his lips against a spot just below her earlobe, eliciting a giggly groan from Heather. "Beautiful," Jake murmured, finally looking up at the expanse of night sky and twinkling stars above them.
They remained that way for a minute or so, both watching the sky above them, content to be together. Eventually, Heather glanced at Jake, inquiring softly, "Whatcha thinking?"
"'Maybe she's an intellectual,'" he teased in return, quoting a song he'd heard earlier in the week at Heather's. "'What if she figures out you're not very smart?'"
"What if she's figured out that 'not very smart' is just an act?" she whispered against his mouth. "What if she knows you're smart in a lotta ways she's not," Heather sighed, resting her head on Jake's shoulder. "Plus," she laughed, "I don't think you get to quote Billy Joel at me after you made fun of me."
"I wasn't making fun of you," Jake countered. "I was making fun of all the CDs in your collection that are of albums significantly older than you."
"Uh-uh," Heather argued, shaking her head, her breath tickling the hairs on Jake's neck. "I checked that one. It came out when I was seven."
"Oh, well, in that case," Jake joked, "I take back everything I said." He waited a few seconds, and then, nuzzling her ear, told Heather, "You know, the best way to do this, to see the whole sky and contemplate your place in the universe, is to throw the sleeping bags down on the deck for padding, lay down, and look up." What he didn't tell her was that, as much as he literally craved having her near and enjoyed holding her in his arms, he was pretty sure that if she stayed in his lap much longer it was going to lead to a continuation of the awkward conversation they'd had on Saturday night. Jake had done a lot of planning for this evening, but he hadn't planned on that.
"Okay," Heather agreed, shifting so she could stand up. "Though," she continued, looking over her shoulder at him, and smiling, "As far as my place in the universe goes, on top of a water tower in west Kansas with Jake Green, that's about perfect."
Jake, already on his feet, couldn't help but smile in return, and he played with her hair for just a moment before giving into the urge to kiss her. "On a water tower in Kansas with Heather Lisinski is perfect," he assured her, his voice so soft and low that it sent tingles up her spine.
It wasn't freezing but the evening was cool, and though they'd dressed warmly and were still both zipped up in their jackets, they decided that they wanted their coffee. Heather went to work on preparing their snack, while Jake moved the chairs out of the way and unrolled the two sleeping bags, laying them out in the center of the deck. He placed a folded blanket on each as a pillow, and left the rest within easy reach. Heather, smiling, handed him a plastic mug of coffee and a couple of peanut butter cookies, and then sat down, Indian-style, on one of the sleeping bags.
Chuckling, Jake seated himself next to her, his legs sticking out in front of him. "I'm not even trying that," he told her.
"Yeah, well, most people don't have to sit this way past the fourth grade," she acknowledged, taking a bite of her own cookie. "I, however, have honed and maintained my skills through years and years of volunteer work and summer camp," Heather joked.
"Impressive," Jake said, winking.
They finished their dessert, and Jake took Heather's mug from her, placing both on the deck and out of their way. He laid back on one of the sleeping bags, his head pillowed on the blanket he'd set out. It didn't surprise him when Heather ignored her blanket, and instead settled against him, her head on his chest. Jake wrapped one arm around her, his hand on her waist.
"Okay, there's the Big Dipper," Heather murmured next to Jake's ear, "And, this has gotta be the first time in my life I can actually see all of Ursa Major. I finally get how they can say that's a bear."
"It helps to have it dark, no ambient light," Jake answered. "Okay," he continued, pointing, "Look up, above Big Bear, there's Little Bear, or the Little Dipper, whichever you prefer."
"Got it," Heather acknowledged. "Still looks like a spoon, not a bear."
"I've never been able to see half of what you're supposed to see in constellations," Jake agreed, laughing. "The Dragon's supposed to be there somewhere, but I can't see it. Could be the wrong time of year."
They fell quiet for a moment, both studying the sky, looking for constellations. "I think that's Pegasus," Heather suggested about a minute later, shifting against Jake and raising her head. She looked down at him, her smile uncertain. "Right?" she asked. "Kind of a side view, no head, just legs, and a box for wings?"
She pointed out the box to Jake, and he confirmed her find. "That's it. I always forget that one's sideways."
They continued along like that for awhile, each finding a few more constellations. This was the part Jake remembered best from his childhood, and he had no trouble keeping up with Heather. Eventually, they ran out of constellations that they knew, and Heather, who could have retrieved her astronomy chart, decided that it wasn't worth the effort. Yawning, she pressed herself a little closer to Jake. "This is fun. Thanks," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he answered, stroking her side lightly with his hand. Heather shivered against him. "Are you cold?" he asked.
"Maybe a little," she admitted.
Jake forced her to sit up then. He retrieved two of the blankets he'd set off to the side, shaking one out, and then wrapping it around her shoulders. The other he dropped over his own legs. "Better?" he inquired. Heather smiled, nodding yes, and Jake again couldn't resist the urge to kiss her.
He didn't know how it all happened, not really, but before he could think about - after all, he was hardly interested in thinking - Jake found himself on top of Heather, both their jackets unzipped, his tossed away completely, her shirt hiked up, exposing her stomach. He kissed her thoroughly, exploring her mouth, drinking Heather in. His hands roamed up her sides, beneath her shirt, tantalized by the warm, soft skin he found there, so different from his own work-roughened hands. Heather moaned into his mouth, and Jake realized suddenly, finally, and most reluctantly, that things were getting out of hand.
Breathing hard, Jake pulled away, sitting back on his heels. "I'm sorry," he muttered hoarsely, studying Heather closely in the dim light thrown off by the lantern that sat a few feet away.
"It's okay," she told him, the slightest hint of hysteria coloring her giggle. Heather propped herself up on her elbows, facing Jake, her eyes wide. "I'm - I'm not cold now," she assured him even as a tremor ran through her body. She pulled her shirt back down into place.
Jake inched away, falling into a seat onto the other sleeping bag. "I'm not trying - I don't mean to push you," he told Heather, exhaling deeply.
"Trust me, I'm not feeling pushed," Heather replied, shaking her head and fighting a smile. "It takes two to tango, right?" she offered, chuckling softly. "But, thank you for ..." She shrugged, not bothering to finish her sentence.
"Sure," he nodded. "Yeah." They watched one another for a long moment, both needing to sort out their thoughts. Finally, Jake started, "So, speaking of places in the universe -"
"Were we?" Heather interrupted, laughing. "Sounds vaguely familiar."
""Right," Jake acknowledged, coughing. "Anyway, you did say you'd tell me how you ended up in Jericho," he reminded. "On our next date."
Heather's expression turned somewhat self-conscious, and she groaned quietly, closing her eyes. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that," she admitted, sighing.
"You don't have to tell me."
"No, it's only fair, really," she argued. "You told me. It's just kinda embarrassing," Heather said, looking away.
"Are you married, dying, or wanted by the FBI?" Jake countered. "That's our criteria, right?" he teased lightly. "If it's not one of those, how bad could it be? Besides," he reminded, "Whatever the reason, I'm all for it. You're here."
Heather giggled, charmed by his declaration. The truth was, she was charmed by almost everything Jake Green said or did, including putting the breaks on their passion when she couldn't. She took a deep breath, and faced him across the few feet that now separated him. "The reason I moved to Jericho - the reason I left home, when it was always my plan to stay there," Heather explained, "Is that I received a completely unexpected, absolutely unwanted marriage proposal."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs
"Where the hell did you go?" a glowering Stanley Richmond demanded, confronting Jake as he climbed out of Stanley's truck. "I went into the alley, turned around, and you were gone."
Jake shook his head, his expression grim. "Everything was under control here, you didn't need my help," he argued. "I was trying to do something to save April's and Eric's house," Jake grumbled, frowning. "Sorry I took off with your truck."
"Who cares about the truck?" Stanley replied, exasperated. "I've been looking for you for the last twenty minutes. It's Heather."
"What about Heather?" Jake asked. "I just drove by the school. Everything's fine, there. No fires. The kids were at recess."
"Not her kids," Stanley answered. "Look," he said, pointing to a knot of children being led down the sidewalk by Mrs. McVeigh, the elementary school principal.
Jake recognized the kids from Heather's class. "What the hell?" he demanded, his throat tightening with a sudden sense of panic. If Heather's class was with the principal, then something must have happened. "What's going on?" Jake questioned, his voice rough.
"Heather was here, with her class, when the fire started," Stanley explained quickly. He reached through the open window of the truck, and pulled the keys from the ignition. Stanley Richmond was a generous enough guy, always willing to help out, but he figured he didn't need his truck disappearing on him again today. He turned to face his best friend, not really wanting to deliver this particular piece of news. "One of her students was in the library." He hesitated a second, then added, "Heather went in to get her."
"What? Where?"
Stanley pointed at the emergency vehicles circled like wagons in the street in front of the library. "Through there. April's with her."
Jake took off in a dead run, dodging fire fighters and volunteers working to salvage what was left of the library's holdings. Stanley followed behind, jogging, losing sight of his friend as the other man went around a fire truck. When he caught up, Jake was with Heather and April, demanding to know what was happening.
"Calm down, Jake," April ordered, glaring up at her brother-in-law. Heather was perched on the bumper of a fire department vehicle, and April was kneeling next to her examining her cast. "Everything's under control," she assured him. "And, you," April decided, addressing Heather, "Somehow managed to keep your cast from getting wet. So at least I don't have to put a new one on."
"Good," Heather agreed, croaking. She started to cough, holding her hand to chest, obviously trying to catch her breath. April stood up, and then handed her an oxygen mask, which she accepted without complaint.
Jake cupped Heather's head, running his hand through her wet hair. "Babe, God," he swore, stooping next to her. He kissed her on the forehead, and then looked at April. "Everything's really okay? What about -"
"I don't recommend smoke inhalation to anyone," April shrugged, "Least of all pregnant women, but Eric got them out quickly, and the sprinklers came on, so I don't think either of them got too much. It could've been a lot worse."
"Jake got the pump station working," Stanley told April and Heather. "For the sprinklers and the hydrants."
April nodded. "Good going. It helped get them out. Heather's okay, Jake," she declared, glancing his way. "She'll have a sore throat for a coupla days, so you know she's gonna be crabby," April smiled, throwing Heather a knowing look. Both Jake and April were well aware that Heather was about the worst patient possible, and nothing bothered her more than a sore throat or cold.
"There are blood tests I should be running, just to be safe, but we only have two part-time lab techs, neither of whom has shown up for work in four days," April complained. "And, half the tests can't even be performed in Jericho. We send 'em out to bigger, better equipped labs." She held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness, her lips pressed tightly together in frustration. "For now, we watch her and hope for the best." She looked back down at Heather. "So, you can let Jake take care of you at home, or I can admit you to the clinic."
"Home," Heather insisted, holding the oxygen mask away from her mouth. She offered Jake a reassuring smile, then reached for his hand, squeezing it. "I'm fine, I promise. I don't want to go to the clinic," she told them, her voice husky, "And, I'm not crabby," she finished, frowning at April.
"So, what am I watching for?" Jake asked, still stroking Heather's head absently.
"Shortness of breath, other breathing changes," April listed, gently forcing Heather to resume use of the oxygen mask. "Skin color changes, dark red or blue would mean her blood isn't pumping enough oxygen. Gray or black saliva, so make her spit for you every once in awhile," she suggested with a wry smile. "I'm not that concerned about the amount of smoke she inhaled. Any is too much, but I just don't think she got all that much, thankfully. The problem is, who knows what chemicals were in the walls and carpet," April said, looking back over her shoulder at the burned out library. "It's those toxins I'm worried about."
The implications of April's words hit them all about the same time. Heather gasped, closing her eyes, and then coughed as she got too much oxygen in one gulp. Jake's expression turned stony, his jaw clenched, and though he exhaled deeply, he didn't yet give voice to what he was thinking. Only Stanley, frowning, spoke, summing up all of their opinions. "Well, crap."
Heather felt Jake shudder through the hand he still had on her head. She looked up at him, recognizing the apprehension in his expression. "Guess I kinda broke our deal, huh?" she asked, her words barely intelligible through the oxygen mask.
"What - why - what were you thinking?" he demanded, not yelling, though the question still seemed to explode out of him. He dropped his hand from the back of her head, clenching it into a fist that he ground against his thigh. "Of all the stupid -"
"I was doing my job, Jake," Heather interrupted quietly. This time, she pulled the oxygen mask away and handed it back to April. "I think I'm good for now," she told her sister-in-law, croaking slightly, but she didn't dissolve into a coughing fit, and so April accepted the mask with a silent nod, stooping to turn off the tank.
Heather turned her attention back to Jake, who stood tensely, hands on his hips, facing her, glaring. She knew her husband, knew that his anxiety almost always manifested itself as anger. As a rule, Jake Green did not admit to being afraid about anything; and as a rule, Heather Green didn't let on when she knew he was.
"I was doing my job," she repeated, more forcefully this time. "My student was missing, and one of the other kids said she'd gone into the library. She's eight years old and I am responsible for her." Heather paused, taking a breath and coughing once. "I'm sure there were better ways to handle the situation, but I did what I did and it's done." She bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to fight the sudden tightness in her sinuses and the tears that were threatening to flood her eyes. "So, am I really gonna get a lecture from Jake - my real middle name is 'Dangerous' - Green?" she demanded finally.
Jake exhaled deeply, his expression softening somewhat. "Well, at least I can honestly say I've never run into a burning building," he told her, frowning.
"And, I can honestly say it's highly unlikely I'll ever do so again," Heather returned.
"God, babe," he whispered then. Jake reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, hauling Heather to her feet. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, tucking her head underneath his chin. "You shouldn't - stop - just don't scare the hell outta me like that, okay?" he requested, murmuring the words against the top of her head so that only she could hear.
"It's okay, Jake," Heather soothed, kissing him on neck, tasting the salt on his skin. "I'm okay, I promise. I'm okay."
Behind them, April and Stanley exchanged a look, silently agreeing that it would be a good idea to beat a hasty retreat. "Uh, I think I'm gonna go," Stanley announced, clearing his throat. Jake and Heather separated, though his arm was still wrapped around her, holding her against his side. They turned to face Stanley. "I'm glad you're okay, Heather," Stanley sighed. He stepped toward her, and earning a rather pro forma glare from Jake, pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "Take care of that niece or nephew of mine," he ordered.
"What he said," April agreed, watching Stanley for a moment as he headed to his truck. "And, I need to go, too, so plenty of fluids. Water, herbal tea - mint or fruit's probably best - take a Tylenol if you need to, doctor's orders. And, if you can find 'em, cough drops, they'll help," she instructed Heather. "As for you, Jake," she added, chuckling, "Good luck."
She started to walk away, stopping when Jake laid his hand on her arm. "April, wait," he commanded. "I - your house."
April's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he could tell that she was working to keep it together as she looked back at him. "I just - I can't think about that right now, Jake," she told him after an obvious pause to collect herself. "Right now, I've still got patients. I need to get back to the clinic, take care of Ashley and Emily -"
"April, I went to your house," he interrupted. "That's where I was, that's why I was gone." Jake shrugged, and letting go of Heather, took a step toward his sister-in-law. "I didn't see how one more person here was gonna make that much difference, but I figured maybe I could do something there," he told her.
What Jake didn't tell her was that he'd gone because of her, and in direct opposition to Eric's choice to not fight the fires in the east woods. April had backed her husband's decision, though Jake was sure that she really hadn't wanted to; she had only been giving into the inevitability of the situation. He'd recognized the sense of loss in her expression, and had wanted to do what he could to prevent it. As for his brother, all he'd been able to see at that moment was Eric flirting with and holding hands with Mary Bailey. When Jake had decided to go to the house, it had been for April's sake.
"It was already on fire when I got there," he told her quickly, dashing some of the hope in her expression. "But, I did get the fire out. With help."
"We were expecting it to be burned to the ground, so anything's better than that," April offered, shrugging. "What's - what's the damage?" she asked finally, biting her lip.
Jake closed his eyes, delaying if only for a moment having to deliver the bad news. "It's not livable," he admitted, reaching for her hand. "The living room and dining room are gutted, and the kitchen's seen better days, but the rest of the first floor's okay," Jake explained as April gripped his hand tightly. "Upstairs, the front bedroom is gone, but the rest looked okay."
April nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes suspiciously bright and her lip trembling. "Well," she breathed, her voice squeaking softly, "At least it was just Eric's new home gym, so no great loss there, right?" she tried to joke.
"I was wondering what the hell was in there when I went up to look at the damage," Jake muttered. Heather moved silently to April's other side, wrapping her arm around her. She met Jake's glance with a watery smile and an almost imperceptible nod, prompting him to continue. "Structurally, it's all repairable, really," he offered, not knowing what else to say.
"Jake," April laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. "I can't send blood to the lab in Goodland for analysis," she reminded. "So, I'm not holding my breath for an insurance adjustor to show up, or a contractor to be available."
He nodded. "I know. I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling distinctly helpless. "There's plenty that can be salvaged," Jake said, shrugging. "And, you know Mom and Dad - well Mom, anyway - will be glad to have you. Or, you're welcome at the ranch."
"Absolutely," Heather agreed.
That was enough to garner a real smile from April. "You and Eric living in the same house?" she asked. "That really would be the end of the world."
"We've done it before," Jake reminded, "And, who knows what'll happen from here on out."
"Thank you, Jake," April sighed, hugging him. "You're a good brother." She kissed him on the cheek, and then took a step back, turning to hug Heather as well. "Take this one home," she ordered, clearing her throat. "Make her take a nap." April took a deep breath then, and they watched as her neutral, professional mask fell back into place. "I'll see you both later."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs
Grandpa Green had just settled down in his favorite chair with a good book, a cup of real coffee, and a slice of warm Dutch apple pie, when he heard the tell-tale sound of crunching gravel on the driveway outside, heralding the arrival of visitors. He was an eminent figure in Jericho, and he had plenty of friends, but most were too old to drive at night anymore, and all had more sense than to drop by for a visit without calling first. That left Grandpa Green with one or two good guesses as to who his visitor or visitors were, and really just one when he thought about it some more, seeing how it was Friday night, and his grandson and namesake, Eric and his wife were technically still newlyweds, and not likely to bother with checking up on him if April had managed to wrangle the night off. Therefore, he knew who he'd see even before he looked out the front window.
His son, Johnston, and daughter-in-law, Gail, were coming up the path, Gail carrying a two gallon jug of grape juice. Sighing, Grandpa walked back across the entry to the door of his study, and with one last longing look at his snack, pulled the door closed. It would all reheat later he knew, and since neither coffee nor large slices of pie from the Richmond farm stand were, strictly speaking, on his prescribed diet, Grandpa figured this was one of those times when what Gail didn't know, well, it wouldn't hurt him.
He opened the door on Johnston's third knock. "My, this is a surprise," he greeted. "Come in."
"Hello, Dad," Gail said, giving him a quick hug before moving beyond him into the house.
Johnston shook his father's hand. "Dad," he sighed.
"We thought we'd come by and see how you and Jake are doing tonight," Gail began, leading the way to the kitchen. "And, we wanted to bring you your grape juice."
"Well, I hope you got it at Gracie's," Grandpa replied. Grape juice was on his prescribed diet, thanks to an article Gail had found in magazine at the dentist's office awhile back. He'd developed a slight tremor these last few years, a symptom of nothing more than the fact that he was getting old, Grandpa knew, and which amazingly the tests that his doctors had run, confirmed. But Gail had read that red wine or grape juice would help, and so now he drank so much grape juice it should have been coming out his ears.
"It's on sale there this week," he continued, while Gail set the jug of juice on the counter. "Jake and I bought a bottle on Tuesday when we did the shopping, and then April brought me another on Wednesday - she got hers at Gracie's, too."
Gail blushed, reminding Grandpa very much of the pretty nursing student his son had proudly introduced to him some thirty-five years before. "Well, now at least you have plenty," she decided with a shrug, chuckling to herself. "Is Jake around?"
Johnston had seated himself at the corner of the long farm table, and Grandpa shooed Gail after him. "He's out," he answered. "Shall I put on the kettle for some tea?"
"That'd be nice," Gail acknowledged. "But, I can do it, Dad."
"So can I," Grandpa returned with an off-handed wave. "Though, if you'd like, there's some banana bread in the bread box, from April. She brought it along with the grape juice," he explained, eliciting a rather strangled snort from Johnston. "As for Jake," Grandpa added, starting to fill the tea kettle at the tap, "He's out for the evening."
"But, his car's here," Gail protested, pulling plates and mugs out of the cupboard.
Grandpa nodded. "It is," he agreed. "Doesn't change the fact that Jake's not," he pointed out, setting the kettle on the stove to heat.
"Did he take the truck then?" Gail persisted, handing dishes off to Johnston.
"Nah," Grandpa denied, placing the teapot on the counter next to the stove. He retrieved a tea bag from the canister against the wall and put it in the teapot, everything ready except the heating water. "He left on foot, 'bout a half hour ago," Grandpa told Gail, deciding to throw her a bone, as he walked slowly to the table. "With Heather. Her car's here, too," he explained, seating himself.
"Heather?" Gail repeated. Her tone was interested, but her expression betrayed nothing. "Miss Lisinski?"
"Miss Heather Lisinski, yes," Grandpa confirmed. "They're on a date," he added, studying his daughter-in-law as she carefully arranged slices of banana bread on a plate. He could tell that she had a million questions, and that she didn't know which to ask first. And some of them, he knew, she was simply afraid to ask. Gail and Jake had always been close, but these last four months, living with Jake had more often than not been like living with a bear with a sore head. Grandpa had learned to ignore him, taking the worst of his attitude as a badly expressed request for some time and space. But Gail, not used to being excluded from her son's life, not even during the awful year of Jonah Prowse, was hurting.
Surprisingly, it was Johnston, and not Gail, who asked the next question. Not surprisingly, his question was about logistics. "Where'n the world were they headed on foot?" he demanded.
"Your mother's water tower," Grandpa answered with a grin. "Jake may have found himself the one girl in Jericho interested in spendin' Friday night staring up at the stars."
"So, do you think it's serious? With Heather?" Gail questioned. She moved around Johnston, taking the chair next to him, frowning softly as she met her father-in-law's steady gaze.
"I think he's smitten," Grandpa confirmed, chuckling. "Of course, she's smitten, too, so that works out well," he sighed, reaching across the table to lay his wrinkled hand over Gail's. "She's good for him. He's thinkin' about someone besides himself again, somethin' besides how much he hates Jonah Prowse, or how guilty he feels about Chris. D' you know, he spent a good two hours today haulin' equipment and what not out to the water tower, and then up? I'm tellin' you, that boy's decided to pitch woo."
Johnston coughed, obviously trying not to laugh. "'Pitch woo', Dad? Jake?"
"Well, I realize that's not what they're callin' it these days, but that's what he's doing," Grandpa insisted. "Jake's with Heather any of the time she's not teaching or sleepin'. Disappears around four every afternoon, comes home 'bout midnight. And, he's finally in a good mood again."
The kettle started to whistle, and Johnston climbed to his feet, waving his father off. "I'll get it, Dad."
"Thank you, Son," Grandpa acknowledged. He turned his attention to Gail, who still looked somewhat bothered. "What is it?" he prompted gently.
Gail shook her head as if to clear it, and then attempted a smile. "It's just I haven't talked to Jake all week. He hasn't come by." She groaned softly, looking down at the table. "I know he's had a rough time of it lately, but - I don't know."
"He's not shutting you out, Gail," he told her. She started to protest, and Grandpa held up his hand to stop her. "I know he was before, but that was different. He was hurting, he needed to lick his wounds, and he loves you too much to want you to see that."
"And now?" she asked, her voice husky.
"And now he's enjoying himself," Grandpa chuckled, smiling. "He's got tunnel vision, and Heather's the only one in that tunnel right now."
Johnston carried the teapot to the table and poured for each of them. Gail thanked him and sat back in her chair, her hands wrapped around her mug to warm them. "You've at least met her for more than five minutes," she complained. "But, I guess all we can do is wait until Jake's ready to let us meet her for real."
"Well, he's bringing her to dinner on Sunday," Grandpa informed them, "So you won't be waiting that long."
Gail literally perked up at this news, offering them a genuine smile. "To dinner? You're sure?"
"I heard them talking about it when she came in tonight," he explained. "Of course, for some reason it took 'em nearly five minutes to come from the front door into the kitchen," he chuckled.
"We ran into 'em on Saturday night, same thing," Johnston said, resuming his seat at the table. "She looked like she'd been kissed, and his hair was a mess," he chuckled. "Jake couldn't get rid of us fast enough."
"Johnston Green," Gail complained half-heartedly. She smacked him lightly on the arm, and then reached for a slice of banana bread. "They were just holding hands, and they looked happy."
"They might have just been holding hands when we saw 'em, but they'd been doing more than that beforehand, and you know it."
Grandpa laughed. "I caught 'em canoodling in the pantry on Wednesday," he reported. "I was sure it was all Jake's idea, but Heather couldn't look at either of us without blushing the rest of the evening, so now I'm not so sure."
"Do you know how they met?" Gail asked, sighing. "When they met?"
"Last Friday," he answered. "Heather was coming out to meet with me 'bout a local history project for school, only she had her tire blow out on the way. Jake was comin' home from Denver, and he stopped to help."
"Last Friday?" Gail repeated, her mouth hanging open. "A week ago - a week ago, tonight? They're moving kind of fast, don't you think?"
Grandpa Green chuckled, studying his son and daughter-in-law for a long moment. "You know what I think?" he asked finally, taking another sip of his tea. "I think that Johnston went all through high school with a nice girl in Susannah Lawson."
"Dad -" Johnston started to object, but Grandpa cut him off.
"I think we're all aware of the situation, Johnston," he told his son. "And, seeing as how I had a nice conversation with Susannah at the library not two weeks ago when she was bringin' her granddaughter - Lucy's little girl - to story hour, I think it's safe to assume she's over what happened."
"And, she and I somehow managed to co-chair the high school athletic boosters committee for three years without Susannah once threatening to scratch my eyes out," Gail reminded with a soft smile. Under the table, she reached for Johnston's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She knew that all these years later, he still felt a small twinge of guilt regarding what had happened with Susannah.
Johnston heaved a sigh, addressing his father. "You were saying, Dad?"
"I was saying that Susannah Lawson was a lovely girl," Grandpa repeated, "And, when you went in the Army, and came home on leave after basic training, your mother at least, and me too, honestly, expected that you were gonna propose," he reminded. "But what'd he do instead?" he asked rhetorically, looking at Gail. "He came down with appendicitis, and got himself sent to the hospital in Rogue River, that's what he did. So, a week later, when we're packin' him up, ready to head home, this cute little student nurse who'd been lookin' after him shows up - on her day off, mind you - to say good-bye, and when she walks outta the room, this one here tells me he's in love with her." Grandpa grinned at Gail. "What was her name again?" he teased, snapping his fingers and screwing up his face, as he pretended to search his memory. "Abigail Somethin'," he muttered. "Abigail O'Brien, I do believe."
"Oh, really?" Gail fixed Johnston with a stare. "You didn't tell me that you were in love with me at the end of that week."
He shrugged. "Well, you wouldn't tell me your name for the first three days," Johnston argued. "Nurse O'Brien, that's all you'd give me. 'Nurse O'Brien, how are you today?' I'd ask, and you'd say, 'That's not important, Private Green. I just need to check your stitches,'" he recalled, a slight smirk quirking his smile. "And when I said, 'Nurse O'Brien, why won't you tell me your name?' you'd say, 'That's neither here nor there, Private Green. Now, take your medicine.'" Johnston tugged on her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it. "After what you put me through, I figured I'd wait a bit before I'd tell you how I'd fallen for you, Nurse O'Brien."
"I wouldn't tell you my name, Private Green, because your mother had already made it very clear to me that you had a girlfriend - practically a fiancée," Gail reminded, chuckling. She freed her hand from his and crossed her arms, forcing a severe expression. "I wasn't going anywhere near that."
"That's because she saw how I looked at you," Johnston argued. "I was half in love by the time they wheeled me out of the recovery room. I just remember coming to and seeing all that red hair, that starched white uniform. I wasn't sure that I hadn't died in surgery and woken up in heaven," he told her, winking.
Gail laughed at that, closing her eyes for a moment. "You know, the first thing you ever said to me, coming out of the anesthesia, was 'Holy hell, you're gorgeous.'" She leaned over, and gave him a peck of a kiss. "And that was the only reason I told you my name after a mere three days."
"Thank God for anesthesia," Johnston muttered. He looked then at his father. "So, is the point of all this that Jake's in love with Miss Lisinski?"
"Wouldn't know," Grandpa shrugged. "He hasn't told me, one way or the other. Course, I'd hope he's inherited some of his mother's good sense, and would know to tell Heather first," he joked, grinning at Gail. "All I'm tryin' to say is, maybe they're movin' fast, but they wouldn't be the first. And, maybe sometimes," he concluded, finishing his mug of tea, "You meet the right person, and all you need is a week."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wednesday, October 4, two weeks after the bombs
Jake Green turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He reached for a towel, finding it on the bar without looking, and then, after a cursory attempt to dry himself, secured it around his waist. Moving through the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom, he spotted Heather, also freshly showered and now dressed in her favorite pajamas, sitting on the end of their bed, struggling as she tried to put a new bandage on her right hand using just her left. "Need some help?"
She looked up at him, her expression a picture of frustration, but shook her head 'no'. "I've got it, thanks."
"Okay," he muttered in return, crossing the room to his dresser. He found clothes and pulled them on, then took a quick pass at his wet hair with the towel. Turning back around, he watched Heather, still grappling with the bandage, fairly certain that over the preceding minute she'd only made things worse.
"Will you just let me help you?" he demanded, tossing the towel over his shoulder, before striding across the room and dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hand.
She started to yank her hand back, but he caught it, stopping her. "It's just a bandage," she argued, a frown working its way onto her face. "I can handle it," Heather insisted.
"You can handle a lot," Jake agreed. "The only problem here is that nobody has much luck bandaging their own dominant hand." They stared at one another for a long, silent moment, and then he started to chuckle. Shaking his head, Jake let go of her hand, and sat back. "Do you realize we're basically repeating the first argument we ever had? Babe," he sighed, "You let me change your tire when you didn't know me from Adam, and for all you knew, I was a serial killer. So, will you just let me help you now? After all," he cajoled softly, "It's part of the deal."
"The deal?" she asked, starting to relax. "Which of our many deals does this fall under?"
"The big one, of course," Jake told her, smiling gently. He sat forward, reaching for her hand again. This time she didn't resist him. "Sickness and health clause."
A smile crept onto Heather's lips. "Oh, right," she laughed softly. "That one."
Jake stood up, moving to sit next to her on the end of the bed. "Let me help you, please, and tomorrow you can be twice as cussedly independent, okay?" She nodded, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. "Heather, I know I haven't been living up to my part of the deal, I haven't been here -"
"You're here now, and I'm just being crabby," she admitted, making a face. "Damn April for being right," Heather grumbled, trying not to laugh. "Having you here now, and for the foreseeable future," she stressed, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him, "Makes up for a lot. Let's just call it even, okay?" she sighed.
"Okay," he agreed, cupping her cheek with his hand, before kissing her softly. "Okay," Jake repeated, finding her injured hand, and then beginning to unravel the mangled bandage she'd applied. "So, how'd you do this?" he asked, examining her injured hand. With everything else going on at the library, Jake hadn't even noticed that her hand was bandaged until they were home, and this was his first opportunity to see the extent of her injury. He was relieved to see that the burn was superficial, and while he had no doubt it hurt, there was no reason to think it wouldn't heal soon and without complication.
"Grabbed a doorknob without checking the door for heat first," Heather admitted, shaking her head. "Completely stupid, I know. You should feel free to tell me I'm an idiot for that one."
Jake reached for the tube of antibiotic cream that was sitting on top of the first aid kit Heather was using. "You're not an idiot," he told her.
"I've already put that on," she told him, as he squirted a small line of cream onto her hand.
"A little more isn't going to hurt," he insisted, rubbing it into her skin. "Better safe than sorry." Using the bandage that she'd started with, Jake gently wrapped her hand up, and secured it. Then, kissing the inside of her wrist, released her hand. "There you go," he pronounced.
"Thanks," she murmured, leaning against him.
"Welcome," he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the side of her head. "How's your throat?"
"Sore. More sore. Sorer?" She shook her head. "None of those sound right," Heather yawned. "Throwing up didn't help."
He chuckled sympathetically, kissing the top of her head. "Yeah, I believe that," he acknowledged. They'd been about halfway home when she'd demanded that he stop the car so that she could throw up. Jake had managed to pull over just before she launched herself out the door. Her cast still made everything awkward, and when he had come around the front of the Trailblazer he'd found her standing, bent at the waist, gagging and spitting. Nothing had come up but stomach bile, and when she'd finally stopped, Heather had confessed that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast more than six hours before. Her eyes watering, she'd accepted the napkins -liberated from the glove compartment - that he'd offered her, and wiped her face, admitting that allowing her stomach to get empty wasn't her smartest move ever. Jake had bitten his tongue, realizing it wasn't going to win him any points to tell her that even he knew that pregnant women were supposed to eat regularly.
"You gonna lay down?" he suggested.
"Yeah," she agreed.
Jake stood and offered her his hand, helping her stand. She walked around the side of the bed, sitting and then laying down on top of the bedspread. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, packing up the first aid kit.
"Oh, yeah," Heather yawned. She raised herself up on her elbows, and pointed across the room to a cotton throw that was draped over the back of a chair. "Can I have that?"
"Sure," Jake agreed, grabbing the blanket. He crossed the room, and was about to cover her with it when he sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing her tank top up a few inches, cupping the slight bump of her stomach. Jake looked up, his eyes wide.
"You gonna freak out on me, hon?" she teased gently, smiling.
"No," he denied, allowing a stunned chuckle. "I - I just hadn't really noticed," Jake admitted, stroking his thumb over her belly, exploring the new, lush roundness he found there. "Wow."
Heather grinned, her own excitement, mixed with just a little apprehension, obvious. "The first evidence of Baby Green," she murmured, sitting up so she could lay her hand over Jake's. "It just sort of happened. Poof!" she told him, giggling. "One day, same as always, and then all of a sudden, this. Thank God April told me I was pregnant," she joked, "Or it'd be me freakin' out right about now."
"I'm guessing you woulda figured it out eventually," Jake offered, laughing. He looked down at their hands, splayed over the soft swell that would be their child. "You can't tell when you're in real clothes, or sitting, or standing," he told her, "But just now...." Jake didn't bother to complete his thought, instead offering her a crooked smile.
"It'll get bigger soon enough," she assured him. "I'll get bigger soon enough." Heather started to cough then, dissolving into a hacking fit that she couldn't seem to recover from. She rolled onto her side, and then onto her stomach, half hanging off the bed, continuing to cough, clearly unable to catch her breath. Jake rubbed her back, not knowing what else to do, feeling helpless. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only around a minute, her coughing subsided, and Heather, spent, flopped back on the bed.
Concerned, Jake stroked the side of her face. "Okay?" he asked cautiously.
She nodded, blinking back the tears in her eyes, taking deep, gulping breaths. Jake reached for the bottle of water sitting on the nightstand, and took off the cap, holding it out to her. Heather accepted it gratefully, sipping slowly. "Okay," she mumbled, testing to see if she could talk without starting to cough again. Heather handed the water bottle back to Jake. "Thanks," she whispered huskily, her smile tremulous. "Ouch."
Jake recapped the bottle and returned it to the nightstand. "You know," he sighed, clutching her hand in his, "After today, and last week at the salt mine, I'm starting to get a neanderthalic impulse to just lock you in the house to keep you safe." He frowned, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Jake," Heather murmured. She took a deep breath, her internal struggle over how to continue playing out on her face. "I knew pretty quickly that I was in over my head," she admitted finally, shaking her head. Before, she'd merely looked tired, but her coughing fit had sapped what little energy she'd had left, and now Heather looked and sounded absolutely exhausted. "I should have waited for the fire department, but I didn't know how soon they'd come. And, once I was inside, I couldn't turn around. I knew Ashley was in there, and besides, flaming debris was falling down behind me." She yawned, groaning softly. "When I found her, she was so scared. She was under a table in the children's playroom, and I couldn't get her to come out for anything. God, I've never been so glad to see Eric in my life."
"Eric?" Jake questioned, his expression puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"April told you, Jake," Heather reminded, coughing once. Frustration flashed in her eyes, and she waited a few seconds to make sure she wasn't about to have another attack before continuing. "Eric came into the library after me. He helped rescue Ashley and me."
Jake could vaguely recall April mentioning Eric in connection with Heather and the fire, but he had been focused on Heather and his worries about her and the baby she carried, and hadn't bothered to find out what Eric had to do with anything. "He rescued you?"
Heather nodded. "I couldn't get Ashley to come out from under the table, and then Eric just appeared. I was so glad to see him. I called him 'the angry fireman'," she confessed, flashing a guilty grin. "Told Ashley we had to do everything he said, and she finally came out. He worked really hard to protect us, Jake," Heather sighed, "And then, when we could get out of the building, he carried her out, thank God. I wouldn't have been able to."
Her words started to sink in, and Jake couldn't help but feel a profound relief that his brother had been able to protect Heather when he couldn't. He and Eric had their differences, and were always likely to butt heads, especially given their competitive natures, but now, for the moment, Jake felt only gratitude for his brother. "Guess I can't be pissed off at him anymore, least for right now," he decided, exhaling deeply.
"Why are you mad at Eric?"
"Same old, same old," Jake answered. "Not important." He leaned over, kissing her softly. "Don't worry about it," he instructed. Jake reached down and picked up the throw blanket from where he had dropped on the floor earlier, and then laid it over Heather. "Time for you to rest," he told her.
He started to get up, but Heather stopped him, tugging on his hand. "Stay," she requested, smiling at him. "Please. You should rest, too. Besides," she admitted shyly, "I want your company."
Jake knew that there were many other things he should be doing, but suddenly none of them seemed important; in fact, he couldn't remember any of them. "Okay," he agreed. Heather rolled on her side, shifting enough so he could crawl over her, and then spoon behind her. He draped his arm over her, settling his hand over the slight swell of their baby. Nuzzling the back of her neck, Jake pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "I love you, Heather," he whispered.
Heather reached back with her free hand, patting Jake clumsily on the hip. "Love you, too," she yawned.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday, October 19, five years before the bombs
They stared at one another for a long moment, her declaration hanging awkwardly between them in the cool night air. Finally, Jake spoke. "I think I need a little more than that," he told her, chuckling humorlessly, "For the sake of my sanity."
Heather nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "I - It's just that that's the hard part to say, so I just kinda said it. Otherwise, it'd be an hour from now, and I probably still wouldn't have. It's - I don't know - it's like pulling off a band-aid," she sighed. "Just sorta have to do it."
"Okay," he acknowledged, not quite smiling. It occurred to Jake that the confusion, the strange pang of jealousy, he was feeling at this moment was probably a lot like what Heather had felt the week before when he'd handed her his badge and had basically said, 'Trust me. It'll all make sense in the end.' He realized, as much as he wanted her to take it back, tell him she was just kidding, he owed her the same trust and understanding she'd offered him that night. "Okay, is there a beginning you could start at?" he prompted.
"Yeah, good idea," she said. "There's definitely context here, and it's important." Heather bit her lip, watching him carefully. "Plus, it's kind of a long story."
"Well then, how 'bout we break out the hot chocolate, and you tell me?" Heather nodded her agreement, and Jake started to climb to his feet, waving her off when she tried to get up as well. "I got it," he assured her, retrieving and donning his discarded jacket. He took two steps toward the bench, and grabbed the thermos and bag of cookies, handing both down to her before finding their abandoned mugs. He held both mugs out, and Heather poured for them. Finally, Jake seated himself next to her. "Okay?" he asked, reaching for a cookie.
She smiled, taking a sip of her cocoa. "Okay," she agreed, leaning against him for just a moment. Jake couldn't help but feel reassured. "Two and a half years ago," she started, giggling softly at his startled expression. "I told you it was a long story. Anyway," Heather continued, her tone turning serious, "My Mom ended up in the hospital with a kidney infection. They never did figure out where it came from, and they had real trouble treating it. I was in the middle of finals week, and I just remember that I'd take a test, and then as soon as I left the classroom, I'd call whoever was at the hospital with her, really just to make sure she hadn't died. It was that bad."
"She was in the hospital nearly three weeks," Heather explained, "And when she left, her kidneys were shot, and all the doctors were just relieved that she was still alive. So were we. She immediately had to start going to dialysis, and she needed a kidney transplant." Heather looked sideways as Jake, frowning. "My Mom had five kids, and none of us were a match. She had three sisters, and none of them were a match. Everyone in the family, blood relative or not, volunteered to be tested, and no one was a match. So, she went on the transplant wait list."
"Had?" Jake asked gently. He set his cup aside, and then reached for Heather's hand, lacing their fingers together, and kissing the back of her hand.
"Yeah," Heather acknowledged, impressed that Jake had picked up on that. "She died in May," she told him, her voice tight.
"From what you've said about your family, I hadn't realized," he admitted. "I'm sorry," Jake murmured, squeezing her fingers.
"Thanks," she sighed, attempting a weak smile. "Sometimes, I don't remember she's dead. I'll call home to talk to her, and it's only when my Dad picks up - he still doesn't sound like himself - that I remember. I called on Sunday," Heather confessed. "I wanted to tell her about our date the night before - not everything," she said quickly, and even by the low light of the lantern burning behind them, Jake could see Heather starting to blush. "But, even though she didn't know I was gonna leave home, and she certainly didn't know I was gonna move to Kansas, I just know she'd worry about me, so I wanted to tell her about you."
Jake let go of her hand, and tilted her chin so that he could press a chaste kiss to her mouth. "Do you think your Mom would've thought I was good enough for her only daughter?" he asked, his tone clearly implying that he doubted it.
Heather shrugged. "I think she would've. My Dad's another story, though," she laughed softly. "He figured out that I'd called to talk to Mom, 'cause it wasn't the first time I've done that. So, I ended up telling him about you," Heather admitted. "He told me to tell him what I was gonna tell Mom. But, he did seem a little skeptical that you could be as great as I said." She didn't tell him that she'd been so effusive in her description of Jake that her Dad had teasingly asked her who she was, and what had she done with his normally level-headed daughter. However, he'd also said to trust her instincts, and every instinct that Heather had was pointing her to Jake Green.
"Your Dad's probably right," Jake told her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm not perfect, Heather. Not by a long shot."
"I didn't say you were," she argued. "I'm not either, as will become obvious when I tell you the rest of this story," Heather sighed.
"Okay then," Jake smiled, "Continue. And, quit stalling," he ordered, kissing her again.
"See?" she chuckled. "I am stalling," Heather agreed. "Not perfect at all." Jake didn't say anything, just stared at her pointedly. Finally, taking a deep breath, Heather began again. "My Mom had to go to dialysis three times a week," she explained, "And she had doctor's appointments all the time. Someone had to drive her, and she was always tired, so she couldn't do any of the things she usually did around the house. It was too much for my Dad to handle on his own, or even with my baby brother Mikey pitching in. So, I moved home."
"It was tough," Heather admitted. "I was commuting farther to school, I was working as a tutor in a program for at-risk youth, I was driving my Mom somewhere practically everyday. And then, my brothers - the older ones, not Mikey - started harping that I was turning into a nun." She offered Jake a crooked smile. "That's their code word for dried up old prune. My brothers were all scarred by the Catholic education system."
"Guess so," Jake laughed softly. Heather leaned her head against his shoulder and groaned in, Jake assumed, remembered frustration. He snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. "Don't take this the wrong way," he instructed, kissing her ear, "But you are absolutely not nun material."
"Thank you," she giggled. "But you better be careful, sayin' that to a good Catholic girl," Heather advised, grinning at him. Jake couldn't help himself, and he kissed her again. "And, you never want to say that to a good Catholic girl's dad."
"Well, I promise I'm not that stupid," Jake teased. "But, you're stalling again," he prompted a few seconds later.
"I am," Heather agreed, chuckling. "My brothers started their 'Get Heather a Date' campaign," she continued. "And it's not like I was ever a big dater or anything," she added, her expression embarrassed, "But the three of them decided I needed a social life, and that they were gonna get it for me. They picked out Mark Metzger - he'd gone to high school with John - and then John and his fiancée, Kerry, and Mark and I went out on a double date."
Heather sighed. "I liked Mark," she said. "He's a nice person, and we had fun when we went out, but that was never more than about once or twice a week, and usually with other people. It was - it was casual." She looked up at Jake, hoping that he understood what she was trying to say. "We went out for over a year," Heather explained, watching Jake. "But it was different. It wasn't anything like it is with you," she told him softly.
"He proposed to you."
"Two weeks to the day after my mother died," Heather muttered, shaking her head. "Nine days after her funeral. His mother sent him over with a casserole for us, and I guess he decided to combine errands."
"Heather, he's a prick," Jake declared flatly, shaking his head. "Only a prick would propose two weeks after your mother died."
She started to laugh, burying her face in the fabric of his jacket. "Oh, God, Jake, that's exactly what I thought. Well, I thought 'jerk'," she giggled, "But I like yours better. Who does that?" Heather demanded, pulling back slightly. "I mean, I was still in my pajamas! I hadn't had a shower yet. And, not that I wanted or expected him to propose, but why would he do that there? Then?"
"I'm guessin' because he's an idiot as well as a prick," Jake snorted. "I don't know why you're embarrassed about this. He should be embarrassed, though I know he wasn't."
"No," Heather confirmed, sighing, "Mark was mad. He told me that I'd led him on. He figured that since we'd gone out for so long...." She shrugged; it wasn't really necessary to complete that statement. "But, he kinda had a point," Heather argued, biting her lip. "I did go out with him for a long time, and - I don't know - I did like him," she insisted, "At least until we broke up so spectacularly. But honestly, a big part of it - of going out with Mark - was just the going out, getting away from everything at home, having something to look forward to on the weekend."
Heather had looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap, refusing to look at Jake for the entire second half of her explanation. He reached out laying his hand over both of hers. "Heather -"
"Maybe I did lead him on, use him. I never felt - I feel more for you after a week, than I felt for him after a year," Heather confessed in a rush of breath. She looked at Jake again, meeting his steady gaze with nervous, wide eyes. 'A lot more,' she thought but didn't say, already feeling she'd said too much. "And, I promise, that's not me in any way, shape, or form fishing for a marriage proposal," she joked uneasily. Heather looked down at her lap once more, realizing that, if she hadn't said too much before, she certainly had now. "Oh, God," she muttered.
She heard Jake exhale sharply, and then he placed his thumb under her chin, gently forcing her head up, making her look at him. He smiled at her sweetly, compassion, if not complete understanding, reflected in his eyes. "So, you're saying, if I proposed to you tonight, you'd just turn me down flat, huh?" he teased gently.
Heather blushed, but she didn't look away. "Uh, yeah, I think I'd have to," she told him, squinting. In truth, her heart had fluttered just a bit at Jake's words. It was a good thing, she thought, that he was only kidding. "Though, I have to say," she joked, clearing her throat, "You picked a great place to not propose."
"I'll hafta keep that in mind," Jake murmured, bringing his mouth down on top of hers. Heather responded eagerly, leaning into Jake and wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands going into his hair. They were soon both up on their knees, their arms around one another, pressed together. "Heather," Jake groaned, burying his face against her shoulder.
"Jake," she whispered in return, stroking the back of his neck, from his hairline to the collar of his jacket, with the fingers of one hand.
He raised his head, and then rested his forehead against hers. "Mark Metzger is a prick, and he was lucky you were ever willing to give him the time of day," he told her. They separated slowly, and then Heather turned, fitting herself into Jake's arms, one leg thrown over his. "So, this is why you moved to Jericho?"
"Partly," Heather confirmed, looking at him sideways. "The neighborhood I grew up in - the parish I grew up in - is just a small town, really. Smaller than Jericho. And, Mark's mother knew he was going to propose," she told Jake. "It didn't take long for those rumors to make their way around. Mark proposed on Thursday morning, and when I went to Saturday night mass with my Dad, I was already getting looks. The next Monday, I ran into Mark's cousin at the drug store. She made it very clear what she thought about me," Heather chuckled grimly.
"I figured it would all blow over, and it kinda did. It wasn't the biggest topic of gossip around after about a week," she explained. "But it was still uncomfortable. I'd applied for a position in the local school district where I'd done my student teaching all year, and I got the job, only I realized I wasn't excited about it," Heather admitted, finding Jake's hand in the darkness. "After my Mom died, and then the blow up with Mark, home didn't feel like home anymore."
Jake nodded, though he knew she couldn't see. He kissed the top of her head, muttering, "Yeah." He'd struggled with that particular feeling all his adult life, though now, sitting here on his grandmother's water tower, Heather in his arms, it was hard to remember why.
"My Dad got Mikey to help him on the internet," Heather continued. "The two of them presented me with literally a hundred pages of applications for teaching jobs in other places. At first, I wasn't interested. Mikey was goin' off to college in three months, and I didn't want my Dad to be alone, but he convinced me eventually." She laughed then, shaking her head against Jake's chest. "Heck, he sat me down at the kitchen table, and made me fill 'em out. And, when I realized that I was filling out an application for Jericho Kansas, not Jericho Vermont, and I was ready to tear it up and move on, he wouldn't let me. 'Nothin' wrong with tryin' it out,' he said."
"Huh," Jake breathed. He tightened his hold on Heather, leering at her softly when she turned her head to meet his gaze. "I think I like your Dad already. He sounds like a smart man."
Heather grinned at Jake. "Yeah," she agreed. "Jericho Kansas, who knew?" she teased, her smile widening as his mouth descended upon hers.
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