Different Circumstances: Part 6C of ? by Marzee Doats
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Thursday, October 26, five weeks after the bombs
Jake knew he should feel guilty for taking on the rather cushy job of passing out water to the volunteers harvesting Stanley's corn, but he couldn't quite manage it. For one thing, he was looking for Heather, wanting to see her, just for a moment, after everything that had happened today, and handing out water allowed him to look for her. For another thing, Jake's head still hurt from the blows Mitchell Cafferty had inflicted earlier in the day, and his hand ached from the beating he'd given Mitchell a few hours later. That was a good hurt at least, he thought, flexing his sore, bruised fingers, as he walked along the outer edge of the cornfield.
He spotted Emily Sullivan depositing a tub of corn onto the wagon bed where the harvest was being collected at this end of the field. Jake walked up behind her. "Water?" he offered, holding up the last few paper cups.
"Nah," Emily said, shaking her head. "I'm good." Together, they surveyed the evidence of everyone's hard work. "Kinda cool, huh?" She glanced sideways at Jake, flashing him a quick smile.
"Yeah," Jake agreed, nodding. He set the water pitcher and stack of cups down on the edge of the wagon. Jake couldn't help but wonder how many recipes his mother had that called for a main ingredient of corn or corn meal. He had no doubt that they would soon find out. "Especially if you like corn," he joked.
Emily chuckled, shaking her head at him. Grabbing an empty bin, she started to turn away, and then she bumped into him, obviously on purpose, catching her hip on his. Her move took Jake by surprise, and he staggered slightly, emitting a soft "Oof!" Emily walked off giggling.
Jake turned around to watch her go and spotted his wife standing at the end of a row of corn, her gaze darting between Emily and him. She didn't look mad, Jake thought, but she didn't look happy either. He took a deep breath and turned around to pour the last of the water into a cup. Jake ambled across the twenty-five feet separating them, coming to a stop directly in front of Heather. "Hey. Are you stalking me?" he asked, deadpan, reaching up to finger a green shoot just behind her head.
He wasn't usually a fan of puns, but Heather appreciated them, just as she appreciated all word games - crossword puzzles and the cryptogram - and Jake wasn't above playing to her amusement. She cracked the slightest of smiles, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. "Not me," she replied, fighting a chuckle. "Is Emily?"
"I don't know what Emily's doing," he answered honestly. "And, you're not jealous of Emily," Jake reminded, his hand dropping so that he could tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
Heather nodded. "Well, that's true," she agreed. "What happened here?" she questioned softly a moment later, reaching up to lay two fingers on his cheek, just below the cut that was starting to swell and scab over underneath his eye.
"Mitch Cafferty," he admitted, reaching up to capture her hand in his own. "But don't worry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her palm. "He looks worse."
"Jake -"
"Heather." He didn't know if she'd been planning to chastise him for fighting, or for being flippant about the whole situation, or both. Probably both, he decided, though at least she didn't seem interested in pressing the issue. "Here," Jake sighed, holding the cup of water out to her. "Drink up."
She accepted the paper cup, eyeing him speculatively. "You know, the last time you said that to me, I'm pretty sure I ended up pregnant," Heather teased, grinning at Jake over the edge of the cup as she took a sip of water. The corn had all been picked from the nearest rows, and they were essentially alone for the moment. Heather took a step forward, leaning into Jake, tilting her head up to invite his kiss. "Plying me with piña coladas so you could have your way with me," she accused, laughing against his mouth.
Jake wrapped both arms around Heather, trapping her against himself. "Having my way with you was a bonus," he murmured, his lips lazily exploring the corner of her mouth. "I just wanted a day where you didn't make me play tourist."
Heather pulled her head back. "You can't go to Hawaii without visiting Pearl Harbor," she argued. "That's un-American!"
"Pearl Harbor was fine," Jake returned, cupping the back of her head with one hand. He gently forced her mouth to his once again. "Didn't mind the Road to Hana," he continued. "But that pineapple plantation?" Jake complained, kissing the tip of her nose. "Boring."
"That tour was fascinating!" she contradicted, starting to laugh. Heather was well aware that Jake didn't care for most of the tours and other planned activities she came up with for them to do on vacation. When Jake got his way, they slept in, hung out on the beach - wherever in the world they were, whatever beach they were on - until dusk, then enjoyed a late, leisurely dinner before finally heading off to bed with the plan of doing it all again the next day. Heather, though, liked to do things, the more educational the better, and Jake, more often than not, humored her.
"It really wasn't," he informed her. "It was like having Stanley walk us around this field for two hours, talking about whatever the hell there is to say about corn."
Still chuckling, Heather shrugged her shoulders. Jake loosened the hold he had on her, and she took a half-step back, though she remained in the circle of his arms. "Well, I guess you can take the teacher out of the school, but you can't take the school out of the teacher," Heather announced, frowning, even as the words came out of her mouth. "And, that doesn't make any sense," she decided, finishing off the water he'd brought her.
"Nah, I get it," Jake said, grinning at her. "Life's just one big field trip to you, Mrs. Green."
"I dunno," she argued, snorting, "Could just be one big congressionally-mandated test." Heather paused, smiling at him. "Though if you'll be my buddy, I guess I'll stick with the field trip."
Jake laughed. With Heather he could be silly, and it was one of the many things he loved about her. There was no one else in the world he could have this conversation with; no one else in the world he would have wanted to have this conversation with. "I'll be your field trip buddy," he promised. "I'll be any kinda buddy you want," Jake added, leering at her affectionately. "You're stuck with me."
Slowly, he pulled her close again, her body pressed against the full length of his, tucking her head beneath his chin. His own words - 'You're stuck with me' - had jarred him. Jake wasn't ready to tell Heather what had happened today with Mitchell Cafferty, but it had hit him all over again, everything that could have gone wrong, and he found that he couldn't deny the impulse to hold onto her as tightly as he could, if just for a moment.
Heather snaked her arms around him, her hand working its way up his back until she reached his neck. She brushed her hand over the goose egg that was just hidden by his hairline, causing him to flinch, unseen by Heather. "Jake," she whispered, pressing her face against his shoulder. Heather's hand moved on, tangling in his hair, and Jake breathed a silent sigh of relief. A few seconds later, though, she returned to lump, rubbing her thumb over it gently. "What happened?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Shhh," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Just gimme a minute."
"Jake," she intoned softly.
"I got hit," he admitted. "No big deal," Jake assured, tightening his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, and then tucked her head back against his shoulder. "This is what I need."
Surprisingly, Heather didn't press the issue, and so they stood there silently, between the rows of corn, clinging to one another. They were both reluctant to pull away even when Jake's minute was up, and only did so because they heard someone approaching. A man Jake knew by sight if not by name walked by carrying a full tub of corn. He waved in acknowledgment, but didn't stop, depositing his bin on the wagon bed and then turning back in the opposite direction. Jake looked down then, taking note of the bin, two-thirds full, that Heather had been collecting corn in. "Did you pick all of that?"
"I did," she answered, smiling at him. "Not bad for a city girl, huh? And, this is my second bin, actually."
Jake frowned. "Are you sure you should even be doing this?" he asked. "I don't know that it's safe, and there's no way you should be carrying that," he insisted, pointing at the tub at their feet. "It's too heavy."
"I'm not an invalid, Jake," Heather reminded. "And, I'm supposed to be getting exercise."
"I don't think this is what April had in mind," he grumbled. "The dust, the chemicals, it can't be good for you."
Heather rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "We're here because Stanley didn't have any chemicals," she argued. "Look, I'm going slower than everybody else, including five year olds. And, I haven't been carrying the bin, just sort of shoving it down the row," she explained, giving the tub a push with her foot to demonstrate her method. "Plus, I was working with Jimmy when I did my first one, and he, very chivalrously, insisted on moving it for me the whole time." She turned back to face Jake, taking a step closer, and reached up, cupping his injured cheek. "I'm fine. Promise."
"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," he murmured, laying his hand over hers.
"And, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," she responded, turning her hand under his to lace their fingers together. Heather shook her head at him, fighting a smile as he squeezed her hand, raising it to his lips. "Fighting with Mitchell Cafferty, though? All I've ever heard is that he's a psychopath. What were you thinking?" she demanded, scowling softly.
"Shoulda seen that coming," Jake grumbled, dropping her hand.
"Well, yeah. You should've," she agreed, frowning at Jake as he took a half-step away from her. "Wonder why you didn't? Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the giant knot on the back of your head," she suggested sarcastically. "You don't want me doing a couple hours' field work," Heather added, gesturing at the corn around them before folding her arms protectively over her chest. "But I'm supposed to be okay with you risking - risking everything to settle a score -"
"I wasn't trying to settle a score," Jake contradicted. "This wasn't about anything but getting back the horses he stole -"
"And those horses are worth risking your life? Getting hit in the head?" she questioned, her eyes flooding with tears. "I know they're important, I know we need them. But, God, Jake," Heather whispered, wiping one eye, "You - anything could've happened. And, I'm not okay with that."
He watched Heather, not responding for a good twenty seconds. Jake knew she didn't fully understand what they were dealing with in Mitchell Cafferty. In truth, he didn't want her understanding that. If that left her mad at him, Jake would deal with it. "Heather, he's in jail," he reminded finally. "Locked up where he belongs." Jake blew out a frustrated breath. "You know, I didn't want this, and I didn't start this," he argued, thrusting his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Jake, not thinking, dropped his head forward, sending it spinning again. "But, I had no choice but to finish it, so that's what I did," he told her through clenched teeth. "And, I'm sorry that you're upset," Jake concluded with a sigh, raising his head, grimacing at the pain that shot through it. "But I won't apologize for doing what had to be done."
They faced one another, both frowning, locked in an anxiety-fueled staring contest. Heather gave in first. "I'm allowed to worry about you," she reminded. "I'm allowed to dislike some of the things you have to do."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Look, I don't want to fight with you about this," Jake continued, shrugging and offering her a grim smile. He took a step toward her, and dropped both hands on her shoulders, pulling her to him. Heather didn't unfold her arms immediately, and Jake sighed, pressing a tentative kiss to her forehead. "Can we agree to disagree?" he asked. "Still be buddies?" he added, teasing softly.
Heather wrapped her arms around his waist then, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops on his jeans. "That we can do."
"Good," he acknowledged, tilting her chin up so he could place a chaste kiss on her lips. "Now, can we get out of here?"
"There's still corn to be picked," Heather reminded, pointing at the bin she was working to fill. "We're trying to help Stanley."
"Stanley's got lots of help," Jake grumbled. "But, how 'bout we finish off your tub, and then we go?"
Kissing him quickly, Heather nodded her agreement. "Deal. And, you can be chivalrous, and move the tub for me," she teased. "You wouldn't want to be outdone by Jimmy, now would you?"
Jake groaned at that, but did as instructed and bent over, slowly, so as to not aggravate his headache, to heft the bin. He followed her up the field about a hundred yards to where a small crew was working. They started down an untouched row, Jake carrying the bin, and Heather picking the ears of corn. Soon, they had filled the tub and, in companionable silence, they walked back to wagon to deposit it.
"Let's get out of here," Jake suggested, reaching for her hand, and then leading her away from the cornfield and back toward the road. They had made it onto the gravel drive when Jake heard his mother calling his name.
"Jake! I've been looking for you," Gail Green declared as she walked up to the couple. "You need to check on Dale and Sean."
"Something happen?" Jake asked, frowning.
Gail shook her head. "No. But you should still check in on them. They need to know that someone is keeping track of them," she insisted.
"So now I'm a parole officer?" he groaned. His mother didn't respond verbally, relying instead on the power of 'The Look'. "Fine," Jake muttered. "I'll go check on my wards." He looked at Heather. "You gonna come with?"
"Nah," she shook her head, and then kissed him on the cheek. "You just find me when you're done."
"Okay," he agreed squeezing her hand once before letting it go. Jake looked at his mother again. "So where are they?"
Gail smiled approvingly. "I'll take you to them," she offered.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, October 22, five years before the bombs
Jake's phone cut out on him mid-sentence, just as he'd predicted it would do some ten minutes earlier. Heather couldn't help but chuckle to herself. They'd talked for over three hours and, just as it had reached nine o'clock, Jake had admitted that his battery was nearly spent, and he'd joked that there was a reasonable chance that his phone might melt, the unit was so overheated. Teasing him in return, she'd suggested that they get off the line before he burned himself, and they'd exchanged good-byes, only to have Jake move to a new subject, not really willing to end their conversation for the night.
Smiling to herself, Heather pressed the 'off' button on her phone, and then pushed the antenna back down. The first half hour or so of their conversation had been less than enjoyable as Jake had gently explained the history of his involvement with Emily Sullivan, and then assured Heather that his relationship with Emily was most definitely buried in the past. But after that, they had managed to cover a variety of topics, both working to keep the conversation relatively light, both learning more about one another, both having a great time despite the fact that they were separated by more than two hundred miles.
With a contented sigh, Heather forced herself up and off the couch. Carrying the phone with her, she padded toward the kitchen, planning to find something else to eat. She'd made herself a peanut butter sandwich just after eight, but now she wanted a little something more. The phone in her hand trilled just as she opened the refrigerator door. Grinning, Heather hit the 'on' button. "Hey, Jake," she answered, fighting a giggle. "You know, we actually did say good-bye a couple of times. You didn't have to call back."
"Hmm. I guess I know why your phone's been busy for the last three hours," the woman on the other end of the line joked. "This isn't Jake, by the way," she explained unnecessarily. "It's April."
Heather groaned softly, but ended up laughing at herself. "Hi, April," she murmured. "How are you?"
"I'm great!" she declared. "And you?"
"I'm good."
"Just good?" April asked. "I have a hard time believing you're 'just good' considering you are the hottest piece of gossip to come through the Jericho rumor mill in nearly a month," she teased. "I mean, did my adorable brother-in-law send you a dozen long-stem red roses this afternoon, or didn't he? And, did the accompanying card make you blush, or didn't it?" April demanded. "Enquiring minds want to know!"
Allowing a rather delighted giggle, Heather retrieved some leftover chicken salad from the refrigerator, and closed the door. "Jake did send me roses," she admitted, pulling a fork from the silverware drawer. "And, I have no doubt that I did blush at the card. It was handwritten, and, well, very nice," Heather sighed happily, tilting her head so she could hold the phone in place against her shoulder. She carried her snack back to the living room, dropping back onto the couch, the best vantage point for admiring her roses. "And, for good measure," she proclaimed, taking a quick bite of the chicken salad, "I am happy to confirm that I have, in fact, been talking to your adorable brother-in-law for pretty much the entire evening so far."
"Very good," April responded, her approval obvious. "And, really, that's all I needed," she joked, "Though, handwritten card? I'm a little impressed. You know, he'd have to have arranged everything before he left town, and there's only one florist in Jericho, and they're closed on Sundays."
"That's exactly what I thought," Heather chuckled. She let out a deep breath, and then asked, "So, are we really the hot gossip in town? Should I be embarrassed, or what?"
"Are you embarrassed?" April questioned in return.
"I'm really not," Heather admitted. "It's a little weird to think people are talking about us, but I'm not embarrassed."
"Good," April affirmed, pleased. "And you know, it's really just how Jericho is. Very small town," she conceded. "Dad - Johnston, not my actual Dad, 'cause if we talk once every six months, that's amazing," April clarified quickly, "Anyway, he says that the Jericho gossip mill is one well-oiled machine, and that it has a few vitally important cogs," she chuckled. "The elementary school secretary is one of those cogs. And, there's Gracie Leigh at the market, and Jim Bailey at the tavern, and Gail. I'm not really that well plugged in," April admitted with a sigh, "But she is. So, the upshot is, I hear everything, eventually. One of the many fringe benefits that comes with marrying into the Green family, just so you know."
"April!" Heather protested, "I've known Jake, like, two weeks! We're not getting married."
"Well, not yet, sure," she agreed, chuckling. "But Jake sent you roses. He brought you to a family dinner. I hate to break it to you, Heather," April continued, sounding anything but unhappy to be the messenger in this particular instance, "But those are all signs that he's serious." Heather didn't respond immediately, and April took pity on her, deciding it was time to change the subject, at least slightly. "So, you don't have to tell me, obviously, but what did you two find to talk about for three hours?"
"Little bit of everything," Heather allowed. "Sports, cars, movies. We both can't wait to see The Lord of the Rings, actually. And, books - you know, who writes a better spy thriller, Le Carre or Ludlum."
"Good lord, you two are meant for each other," April laughed.
"Yeah, well, we also had to talk about Emily Sullivan."
"Damn," April swore, her voice full of sympathy. "I'd heard that she was there, but I was hoping that part of the rumor wasn't true."
Heather's reply was strained. "No, she was there, unfortunately."
"Don't let her get to you, Heather," April instructed. "Please."
"Easier said than done," she grumbled, stabbing together the last forkful of chicken salad. "She actually came down to the Elementary to warn me off of Jake."
"Oh, brother," April chuckled. "I don't know if this will make you feel better, but pretty much any female in Jericho, within ten years of age of Jake, has been warned off by Emily," she explained, sarcasm creeping into her tone. "She warned me, more than once, in high school."
"Was she trying to be your friend, too?" Heather snorted, rolling her eyes though she knew April couldn't see.
"Is that what she's calling it these days?" April joked sourly. She continued, not waiting for a response. "Heather, Emily has always thought of Jake as her property, practically. She's trying to frighten you off," April admitted, turning serious. "But please don't let her."
"Jake said they were over a long time ago," Heather murmured, uncertainty ringing in her voice.
"They were. They are," she assured. "Look, until everything that happened last year," April sighed, cautiously alluding to Jake's undercover investigation into Jonah Prowse's activities, "For years, Jake was never in Jericho for more than a week at a time. He and Emily were still friendly, but they weren't together."
Heather didn't respond immediately, and April stayed quiet as well, letting her words sink in. "Okay," Heather acknowledged finally. "So, what was up that Emily felt the need to warn you off Jake?"
"Nothing that should have bothered her," April insisted. "Jake would check my math homework for me, even when he didn't do his own, though that wasn't too often. He had to keep his grades up to stay eligible for baseball," she explained. "I knew I wanted to go to medical school, even back then, and I'd never had problems with any of my classes, but I did not get trigonometry. Jake helped me out, and I helped him with his English homework. Jake didn't get existentialism and transcendentalism, that sort of thing. Actually, he never really got Mark Twain. It was a completely quid pro quo kinda thing," April declared, emitting a frustrated chuckle, "But Emily didn't like it."
"Emily teaches English," Heather reminded. "But, Jake went to you for help with his homework?"
"Exactly," April confirmed. "And, he didn't come to me because I was a better student than her, though, overall, I was. What we had was a practical arrangement. He didn't have to get into a whole big drama with her if I helped him out instead."
Heather started to giggle. "I told Jake that Emily's a bitch," she confessed.
"Good for you!" she laughed. "He needs the reminder sometimes, I think. Look," April continued, "Emily was Jake's first relationship." She hesitated a moment, then added, "His first love. But, I don't think they were good for each other, especially the longer they went together. I love Jake, as a brother and a friend," she declared. "And I have to say, my own opinion, Jake doesn't need to be with someone who'll encourage him to be even more reckless than he already is. He needs someone who loves him, and will rein him in when he needs it," she explained, sighing. "Now, Emily's only got one setting as far as I can tell, and that's 'Drama Queen'. Jake really doesn't need that," April insisted. "And, Heather, I wasn't kidding when I said that Jake was serious about you. I'd say he's yours for the taking. And, hey, I'm cheering you on. Plus, Gramps adores you. We all like you. You have the Green Family stamp of approval," she joked.
"Thanks," Heather murmured softly.
"You are absolutely welcome," April answered warmly. She paused for a few seconds, and then said, "I need to go. Eric just pulled up. Monday nights are town council meetings. Big debate on adding a stop sign somewhere tonight," she joked. "Look, I promised Gail I'd let her know whether the rumor was true or not, so I am gonna do that, but the rest is strictly between you and me, I promise."
"Thanks," Heather repeated, allowing a sigh. "And, you can even tell her that Jake and I killed his cell phone talking tonight, if you want."
"You really have no idea how excited she'll be to hear that," April warned, laughing. "Seriously, to Gail, that'll be Christmas come early."
That was enough to elicit a giggle from Heather. "Well, Merry Christmas to Mrs. Green," she declared. "And, good night, and thank you."
"Well, good night, and you're welcome," April responded. "And, remember, if Jake goes hunting with the rest of the guys this weekend, we should go to dinner Saturday night."
"It's a date," she agreed. "Thanks, April. Say 'hi' to Eric for me."
"Hello! And, Heather says 'hi', too," she heard April say.
"Hi, Heather!" Eric called out.
April returned her attention to her phone call. "Now, I'm really gonna go. Call Gail real quick, and then spend some quality time with my hubby."
"Have fun," Heather told her, feeling herself start to blush. "And, good night."
"Night, Heather," April returned, hanging up.
The phone rang again while Heather's finger was still on the 'off' button. Laughing, she shifted one button over, pressed it, and then answered.
"Heather?"
"Hey, Jake!" she greeted, giggling happily. "What a surprise."
"You know, your phone's been busy for the last twenty minutes," he said. "So, what, you've been talkin' to your other boyfriend?" Jake teased.
"Only got one boyfriend," Heather returned. "I've been talking to April," she continued, standing up and carrying her dishes into the kitchen. She left them in the sink, and then headed toward her bedroom. "Apparently, the entire town now knows who my boyfriend is, too."
"Ah, so my plan worked," Jake decided, chuckling.
"Guess it did," she agreed. "And, I do mean all over town. April explained your Dad's theory about the Jericho rumor mill," she yawned softly, settling herself on her bed. "I assume you're aware that Mrs. Crenshaw is a 'vital cog'?" she joked yawning again.
"Sounds vaguely familiar," he admitted, grinning. "Mrs. C., my Mom, Mags, Gracie Leigh, couple others."
"Jim Bailey," Heather offered, "At least according to April."
"Yup, him too," Jake acknowledged, listening as Heather tried to stifle yet another yawn. "You're tired. You need to go to bed," he told her softly.
"Probably. I miss you, Jake. Good night."
"Good night, Heather. I miss you, too. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Good night," she repeated softly, reaching over to turn off the lamp next to her bed.
Jake waited a few seconds, and then returned, "Good night."
Heather, the phone still against her ear, waited for Jake to hang up. She turned her alarm on, pushing the covers out of her way. He didn't end the call. Finally, giggling tiredly, she suggested, "How about we hang up on the count of three?"
"That might work," he decided.
"It will if we both hang up!" Heather laughed. "'Kay? Ready?"
Jake took a deep breath. "Yes. Go."
"One, two, three," she counted off, waiting two seconds before adding gently, "Good night, Jake."
"Night, Heather," he murmured, listening as she finally clicked off. In Denver, Jake sat in the only comfortable chair in his hotel room, grinning softly, and listened for another moment to the dial tone before finally hanging up.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, October 26, five weeks after the bombs
Heather watched Jake trail after his mother, his gait slow. To her eyes, he looked like he was tired and in pain. She frowned, recalling their argument. She was still a little mad at him, but honestly more worried than mad. Heather exhaled deeply. She hadn't been lying when she said that she didn't know what she'd do if anything happened to him. Squaring her shoulders, Heather took two steps after him, calling out "Jake!"
Both Jake and Gail stopped, and he turned, blinking away the exhaustion in his eyes as he faced her across the thirty feet that separated them. "Yeah, babe?"
She'd intended to tell him that she loved him, and would have if it had just been Jake and his Mom. But, there were other people around and Heather could feel herself chicken out. "I - I'll see you in a few minutes," she called out, smiling at him sheepishly.
Jake grinned tiredly. "I'll see you soon, too," he yelled back, turning to follow Gail.
Smiling to herself, Heather returned to the wagon stationed at the end of the field, grabbed an empty bin, and then walked along the edge of the cornfield, looking for a place to go to work. She found Jimmy Taylor again, this time accompanied by his son, Woody, who didn't look all that enthusiastic about their task.
"Mind if I join you two?" Heather asked, throwing them both a smile.
"Sure thing, Heather," Jimmy returned. He glanced down at his son, shaking his head. "Of course, some of us aren't real happy to be here."
Heather set her bin down on the ground, and pulled an ear of corn off its stalk. "Don't like corn, Woody?" she enquired, squatting to place the ear in the tub. "'Cause it's pretty cool that you get to hang out with your Dad, and help for awhile," Heather said, smiling at the little boy. "Is your sister here?"
"I like corn," Woody admitted, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. "And, it's fun to hang out with Dad, but it'd be more fun if we were in his police car," he argued, allowing a disgruntled sigh. "And, Mom brung me and Sally out here. We were all gonna help. Sounded fun, sorta," he explained, "Only Mrs. Green - the other one, not you - she got Mom and Sally to go help make lemonade. I can help make lemonade," Woody declared.
"I see," Heather acknowledged, meeting Jimmy's eye over the little boy's head. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth expressing eloquently his frustration with the situation. "Well, you know, that lemonade's gonna taste really good after all our hard work," she suggested. "Tell you what," Heather continued, snapping loose another ear of corn. She held it out to Woody. "How 'bout you be my assistant? I'll pick, and you can put everything in the bin for me."
Woody looked intrigued by this arrangement, and accepted the produce, bending over to place it carefully in the bin. "Okay," he nodded. "We can do that."
"Mrs. Green isn't supposed to be lifting anything, either, Woody," Jimmy told his son. "So, you move the bin. And, if it's too heavy for you, then you tell me, and I'll move the bin."
"Okay, Dad," Woody agreed, though neither Heather nor Jimmy were too sure he'd been listening. Heather handed the boy another piece of corn, and he added it to the bottom of the bin.
"You sound like Jake," Heather accused, glaring lightly at Jimmy.
"Well, I work with Jake now," he reminded. "And, you're both my friends, but I spend more time with him, and plus, he's meaner than you," Jimmy grinned. "So, I'm just errin' on the side of caution, and doin' what I can to help look after his wife for him."
"Fair enough," she chuckled as they both twisted ears of corn loose. Woody accepted the piece that Heather handed him, and then held out his hand to his father.
"Thanks, Woody," Jimmy said, giving him the corn. A moment later though, he was protesting the fact that his son put both ears in Heather's tub. "No fair," he complained, offering an exaggerated scowl. "Now you two are gonna beat me!"
"Yup!" Woody giggled, practically snatching the next piece from Heather's hand.
Laughing, Heather met Jimmy's eye again. "So, speaking of Jake," she began, exhaling softly, "You wouldn't happen to know anything more about how he got that big knot on the back of his head, would you?"
"I wasn't there, Heather," Jimmy frowned. He stopped picking for a moment, and faced her, his expression serious. "All I know is what Jake said, and what Dale said. Mitch - Mitch snuck up on him, and hit him." He glanced down at Woody, and his frown deepened. Looking at Heather, he mouthed, rather than spoke his next words. "Shot gun barrel." He made a chopping motion with his hand against his neck. "Back of his head, neck."
Heather, eyes wide, shuddered, grumbling to herself. "God, how does he get himself into these situations?" she demanded quietly.
"Cafferty surprised him, Heather," Jimmy assured her, reaching for his next ear of corn. "Jake went in to scope things out only. Eric and I were gonna wait, and if he didn't get back in twenty minutes, go look for him. He found the horses, and Cafferty surprised him. That's what Dale said," Jimmy explained. "It was never the plan for Jake to engage with Mitch, he just got surprised. So, don't be too hard on him."
"Okay," she acknowledged softly, her tone noncommittal. Jimmy flashed her an encouraging smile, which Heather returned, and they got back to work, each handing ears of corn to the now eager Woody. As Heather knew well, the easiest way to interest a kid in any task was to make it into a game. Soon, Heather and Woody's bin was full.
"Dad! We won!" Woody announced, grinning. He knelt next to the tub and tried to shove it, but it didn't budge. "But it's too heavy."
"I'll take care of it," Jimmy offered. "Now though, you two have to work on my bin," he told them, hefting the full tub. "I'll be right back." Jimmy walked to the end of the row, greeting Emily Sullivan, who stepped out of his way to allow him to pass, before coming down the row, carrying her own bin.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, coming to a stop a few feet from Heather.
Heather hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing a smile. "Sure. Why not? Though, I should consult with my assistant," she joked, laying her hand on Woody's shoulder. "Whaddya think, Woody?"
He took a step forward, standing on tiptoe to peer into Emily's tub. "We've got more than her already," he said, glancing back at Heather, grinning. "We're still gonna win."
"We're having a little contest here, so as long as you don't mind that, feel free," Heather told Emily. "The more, the merrier."
Emily moved past Heather and Woody, taking up a station about ten feet down the row. The three got back to work, Emily picking corn and putting it into her bin, observing all the time how slowly Heather worked, and how solicitous Woody was, taking each ear from her and stacking it carefully in the bin. The two of them chatted, Heather quizzing Woody about things of importance to a seven-year old boy, topics of conversation that had never interested Emily, and which she had never mastered.
"Mrs. Green," Woody whispered loudly about five minutes later. "I gotta go!" He was dancing, his legs squeezed together.
"Oh! Okay, honey, I'll take you," Heather said, holding her hand out to Woody. She looked back at Emily. "When Jimmy comes back, can you tell him that I took Woody up to the house to use the bathroom?" Emily nodded, and Heather and Woody started down the row. Jimmy appeared at the end just as they reached it. Emily watched as Woody let go of Heather's hand in favor of his father's, and the two Taylor men climbed the slight hill leading up to the road.
"Always a better job for Dad," Heather joked, catching Emily's eye as she returned to work.
Emily watched as Heather went back to picking corn, carefully snapping an ear off the stalk and then slowly squatting to stack the ear neatly in the bin. They were all packing the corn tightly to maximize space. "Heather," she began, frowning, "Are you all right? You're movin' kinda slow," Emily observed, "And, I don't know. Do you need water or something?"
Heather pulled herself back up, shaking her head and smiling distractedly at Emily. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Don't worry about me," she continued, reaching for the next piece of corn. "I'm great since April took off my cast last week, actually. And, Jake made me have some water a little bit ago. If I had any more, then I'd have to go to the bathroom." She glanced at Emily, joking, "Guess I should've taken Woody, after all."
"Oh, okay," Emily nodded, returning her attention to her own picking.
The two continued to work, neither talking. Emily, who was harvesting at a faster clip than Heather, moved farther away down the row. After a few minutes, Heather looked up in time to see Mimi Clark, glancing around furtively, pass by. Two seconds later, she backed up and ducked into their row. "Heather Green!" she called out quietly, jogging down the narrow path. She reached Heather's side, and grinning, said, "That's still really funny you know. Heather Green." Mimi sighed, looking around. "You haven't seen Stanley lately, have you?"
"Not in the last hour, probably," Heather shrugged.
"Good!" Mimi declared, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm avoiding him. He keeps saying that if I don't pick corn, then I have to sleep in the barn." Lips pursed, she caught Heather's eye. "He wouldn't really do that, would he?"
"The barn?" Heather asked, chuckling. "Why would you have to sleep in the barn? And, how could Stanley make you?"
"My bed and breakfast closed down," she grumbled. "And, it's not like I was getting good service there, ever," Mimi complained, "But they kicked me out this morning! And now," she sighed, "Somehow, I live here."
"Wow," Heather murmured, studying Mimi closely. "You're - You're serious?"
"As a heart attack," Mimi groaned. "He said I'd have to sleep in the barn, and he wants me to help with the cooking and washing." She shuddered at the thought.
"Well, Stanley's just a big ol' softie, really," Heather consoled, reaching for an ear of corn. "I'm pretty sure he won't make you sleep in the barn," she added, snapping the ear free.
Before Mimi could respond, Stanley appeared at the end of the row. "Hey! Uncle Sam!" he yelled, "There you are!" Stanley was all smiles as he loped down the row, brushing corn stalks out of his way. Heather threw Mimi a sympathetic look, and then bent over to pick up her bin. "My God!" he bellowed, pushing his way forward to stop her. "Heather, you're not supposed to lift things!" he scolded, pulling the bin out of her arms. "What were you thinkin'?"
Hands on her hips, Heather faced Stanley, glaring. "I'm not an invalid," she argued.
He ignored her. "It's your lucky day, Uncle Sam," Stanley declared, turning to shove the bin into Mimi's arms. "Now you get to stay here and help Heather." He looked at Heather again. "No lifting!" he ordered. "And," Stanley concluded, facing the gaping Mimi, "If she gets dizzy or something, get her some water. Hell, get Jake."
Stanley stomped off, and Heather and Mimi looked at each other, both trying to decide how to respond. They soon gave into giggles. Mimi set the tub back down on the ground, brushing her hands off as if she could rid herself of the requirement to do manual labor. "Now, I don't really have to do any of that, right?" She asked Heather.
"How about you help me move this over," Heather suggested, pointing at the tub Mimi had just set down, "And we'll call it good."
"Well, I guess I should," Mimi decided, heaving a put-upon sigh. "Your husband does spend all of his time worrying about you."
"Okay, seriously! What's going on?" Emily demanded, walking up to Heather and Mimi, startling them both. Neither had noticed her moving closer, though she had started inching her way back toward them when Mimi had joined Heather. "Are you sick?" she asked, her forehead wrinkling with consternation. "What's wrong, Heather? Is it cancer? I don't know, lupus, something like that?"
"Emily, I'm fine," Heather tried to interrupt. "There's nothing -"
"Then why is everyone so worried about you?" Emily questioned. "Stanley won't let you lift anything, and a seven year-old was doing more than half your work for you. Should you even be here?"
Mimi rolled her eyes, and turned to face Emily. "What are you carrying on about?" she grumbled. She pointed at Heather. "She's not sick, she's -"
"I'm pregnant," Heather interjected before Mimi could break the news to Emily. She smiled and took a deep breath, repeating, "I'm pregnant. Fifteen or sixteen weeks. I mean, that's the window of possibility." Heather started to blush, though not deeply, adding a healthy color to her cheeks. "Jake and I are having a baby. In April, probably."
Emily faced Heather, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock. She looked Heather up and down, and came to the late realization that Heather, unlike everyone else in Jericho, hadn't lost any weight in the preceding month. Heather ran one hand down her front, smoothing her blouse over her stomach and giving Emily a fleeting glimpse of the soft swell of her belly, confirming Emily's observation. She looked happy too, Emily decided. Heather even had the proverbial pregnant glow about her.
"Whoa," Emily mumbled, closing her mouth. She'd turned pale beneath her baseball cap, and she shook her head as if to clear it. "Wow," she said, inhaling sharply, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Con - Congratulations," Emily stammered. "That's great. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Heather murmured, offering Emily a slight smile.
Well," Emily sighed, making a half-hearted attempt to return Heather's smile. "I - We should get back to work." She looked around, and then glanced back at Heather, though she couldn't seem to maintain eye contact. "Not much left here to get," she muttered. "I'll let you finish it up, and hit the next row." Emily fled.
Mimi and Heather watched her go. She grabbed up her half-filled bin, and headed down the row, away from them. Reaching the end, Emily turned left and disappeared. "Boy," Mimi snorted softly, "Does she want you dead, or what?"
Shaking her head, Heather sighed. "Emily was Jake's first girlfriend, back in high school."
"Big deal," Mimi sniffed, rolling her eyes again. "That was a hundred years ago. Besides," she reminded, "Jake married you."
Heather started to giggle, and then she nodded. "Yes he did, didn't he?" she agreed, smiling at Mimi, who started to chuckle along with her.
The two were still laughing, Heather holding onto Mimi's arm to maintain her balance when Woody Taylor appeared in the row, taking carefully measured steps, bearing a paper cup that he carried with both hands. His father, Jake and Stanley followed behind him, pushing their way through the cornstalks. "Mrs. Green, I brought you some lemonade!" Woody announced proudly. "'Cause we worked hard!"
"We sure did, didn't we?" Heather agreed. "Thank you, Woody!" Heather declared, holding up her hand for a high five. The little boy handed her the cup of lemonade, and then clapped his hand to hers. "And thanks for being such a good helper," she added, taking a sip of the lemonade.
"You're welcome," he told her, smiling brightly. In his excitement, he hopped up and down on one foot, and then started to fall over.
"Hey, watch out there, Wood," Jimmy chuckled, catching his son before he could take out five or six corn plants. "You know what? Mrs. Green needs to go home now," he explained, helping Woody stand up. "So, we're gonna finish up this row, just you and me, okay?"
Woody nodded. "Sure, Dad, that's cool." He looked at Heather and grinned. "See ya later, Mrs. Green."
"See ya, Woody."
Jimmy and Woody squeezed past Heather and Mimi, and then Mimi followed Stanley past Jake and out of the row. Jake held his hand out to Heather, leading her back to the edge of the cornfield.
"You are no longer allowed to pick corn on my farm," Stanley informed Heather. "You've got more important things to do, Mama," he grinned. "And you, Uncle Sam," he continued, shaking his head at Mimi, "I guess you're off the hook, too. For today," he warned.
Jake wrapped an arm around Heather's shoulders, pulling her back against him. "Ready to go?" he asked, kissing her ear.
"Sure," she agreed, turning her head so she could smile back at him.
Stanley groaned. "Here it comes. It's enough to give you sugar shock," he complained, rolling his eyes for Mimi's benefit. "Let's leave the lovebirds alone," he suggested. "And, you two," he added, shaking his finger at the two Greens, "Go home!"
Jake and Heather walked up to the road, holding hands. "I see that you've got yet another eight year-old boy completely under your spell," he teased.
She laughed. "Well, Woody's only seven, actually. Early bloomer, maybe," Heather joked, grinning at Jake. Sighing, she bumped into him gently, prompting Jake to wrap his arm around her. "Occupational hazard, you know."
"I'm familiar with the concept," Jake replied dryly. "Got a couple of 'em myself."
"You okay?" she asked, stopping to turn under his arm, leaning against his chest. She pressed her hand to his cheek. "Feelin' all right?"
"Tired," he admitted, shrugging. "Little sore."
Heather nodded, and then laced her fingers through his. She kissed him softly on the mouth. Stepping back, she smiled at him. "Well, let's get home then."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *