The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 6D of ? by Marzee Doats

Author's Note: I'm not even sure what to say about this one, though I feel like it should have some sort of warning, only I don't want to spoil it for anyone... Let's just say that I got a WOW WOW WOW and a WHOA as feedback on a particular section of this story, and a couple of offers to trade places with Heather. Do you feel adequately warned?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wednesday, October 24, five years before the bombs

Jake climbed out of his car, rolling down the sleeves of his dress shirt.  They were experiencing a fit of Indian summer, and his car, while cool in every other way, didn't have air conditioning.  Buttoning his right cuff, he turned to retrieve his jacket from the back seat, and pulled it on.  Finally, peering into the side view mirror, Jake straightened his tie.

He'd left Denver at twenty after one.  They had finished up early, and the two federal prosecutors he was working with had been just as eager as Jake to be done for the time being.  They had ordered in sandwiches, working through lunch to finish up their review of the events of April and May.  It had been a shock when, as they were shaking hands and Jake was headed literally out the door, Ms. Dawkins, the lead prosecutor, had remarked that one more of these debrief sessions should do it, and then they would move into the next phase of building the case against Jonah Prowse.  Jake had asked if that meant he could stop coming to Denver, and the usually humorless Ms. Dawkins had actually cracked a smile, telling him that, unfortunately, he wasn't going to get rid of them that easily.

The drive from Denver to Jericho had taken Jake just over three hours, though if his mother asked, he always told her it took three and a half.  He'd called Heather when he was fifteen minutes out, and after ascertaining that she was still at the school, he'd headed directly there, misinforming her that he wouldn't be in Jericho for another two hours.  He wanted to surprise her. 

Whistling off-key to himself, Jake headed into the school.  The main office was at the front of the building, and there were signs directing all visitors to check in there first.  Jake walked up to the counter and rapped on it gently although there was no need because Mrs. Crenshaw had seen him coming and had jumped up from her desk.  "Jake Green!" she exclaimed, smiling at him widely.  "I think I know what you're doing here," she teased gently.  "Couldn't be to see our cute as a button third grade teacher, now could it?"

Jake chuckled.  "Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw," he greeted, holding his hand out to her.  "And, yes, I'm here to see Heather.  I'd like to surprise her, if that's okay."

Mrs. Crenshaw ignored Jake's proffered hand, coming instead around the counter to demand a hug.  "Look at you," she said, pulling on the sleeve of his jacket to straighten it.  "All dressed up, and quite the handsome devil, I must say!"

"I had to go to Denver for work," Jake explained.  "I've been out of town for a couple of days."

"Well then, I won't keep you," Mrs. Crenshaw decided.  "I think you know the way?"
 
"Sure do," Jake declared, grinning.

"Go ahead then," she instructed, taking the first few steps with Jake.  "And, don't be a stranger," Mrs. Crenshaw ordered, wagging a finger at him.  "Though, I s'pose as long as we've got Miss Lisinski, that won't be a problem."

Jake's grin widened.  Chuckling, he winked at Mrs. Crenshaw.  "Probably not," he agreed. 

Heather's classroom was about halfway down the main hallway, on the left-hand side.  Jake walked to her door, forcing himself to maintain a moderate pace, and pulled it open, slipping inside.  She was sitting at her desk, green felt tip pen in hand, marking papers.  Hearing the door creak, Heather looked up, and spotting him, squealed, "Jaaake!  What are you doing here?  You're not supposed to be here!"  She offered him a wide smile and sprang out of her chair, crossing the classroom quickly.  "Jake," she repeated breathlessly.

"So, if I just push this button, the door's locked, right?" he asked, grinning at her. 

Stopping in front of Jake, Heather threw her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so she could kiss him.  When they separated moments later, she nodded.  "Yep, that button does it.  What...?"

"We finished up early," Jake shrugged.  Heather took a half step back, and they both reached for the other's hand, lacing their fingers together automatically.  "When I called, I lied, just a little.  I wanted to know where you were for sure," he explained as she led him back across the room to her desk.  "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you certainly did," she assured him.  Heather kissed him again, quickly, and shaking her head, added, "And, it's a very nice surprise, too, thank you."  She looked him up and down.  The charcoal gray suit he was wearing fit Jake as if it had been custom made for him, and if Heather had known that Mrs. Crenshaw had called him a handsome devil, she would have agreed without reservation.  "You look nice," she smiled, "How was Rome?"

"Thanks," Jake answered, laughing.  "Denver was okay, but I'm gonna have to be careful if you're gonna insist on remembering everything I say," he teased, squeezing her hand.  "You look pretty great yourself," he told her, pulling her into a loose embrace and placing a soft kiss on her lips.  "Missed you," he murmured.

"Missed you, too.  I'm glad you're back."

"So, what're you up to?" he asked then.  "'Cause I'm hoping you're ready to get outta here, go on a picnic, maybe," he told her, loosening his tie.  "It's warm enough today, and - I don't know - I thought it'd be fun," Jake added, divesting himself of his jacket.

"I'm game," Heather declared, stepping behind her desk.  "Just give me a minute," she requested, shuffling a stack of papers together.  "I didn't give any tests, don't worry," she told him, making a face, "I'm just trying to get through the homework that was turned in yesterday."  She looked down at the homework packets sitting in the center of her desk, and changed her mind.  "But, you know what?" she asked, grinning at him, "This can wait.  At least 'til tomorrow."

"Tell you what," Jake replied.  "Give me tonight - just us - and I will let you have all the time you need to work tomorrow," he bargained.  "I won't even try to distract you."

Heather frowned at him.  "Where's the fun in that," she grumbled.  "You're at my distracting service, remember?"

"That I am," he agreed.  Heather bent over to pull her purse from the desk drawer, and Jake, looking around, spotted something interesting.  "What's this?" he asked, picking up a dog-eared piece of paper that had obviously been folded together many times at one point.  The handwriting was blocky and had been painstakingly rendered, though it was still barely legible.  Jake read the note out loud.

Deer Miss Lizinsky,

     You are the best teacher!  You are very pritty and you are nice.  Your class is verry fun.  I love you. 

     Love, Jason

"I see I've got some competition," he teased, throwing Heather an appraising look.

She laughed.  "Jason Cale.  Not one of my better spellers, but very sweet.  Don't worry though," Heather continued, grinning as she moved to stand in front of Jake.  "Susie Elliot has a mad crush on Jason.  I think he'll forget all about me soon," she said, leaning against him.  "Besides, I want a guy who's allowed to stay up past eight-thirty." 

"Well, if that's you're only requirement," Jake teased, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger, "I'm good."

"Oh, no, I've got plenty of other requirements," Heather informed him.  "But you're still good."

"Ready to get out of here?" he asked.    Heather nodded her agreement, and Jake motioned for her to precede him out of the classroom.  "So," Jake asked while Heather locked her door, "What are your requirements?"

"My other requirements?" Heather questioned, grinning at Jake over her shoulder.  "For a guy?"

"Uh-huh," Jake said.  "I wanna know what I need to live up to."

"Okay," she acknowledged with a giggle.  "Well first, he has to be distracting.  You do pretty well with that," she assured him as they started down the hallway.  Jake walked beside Heather, his jacket slung over one shoulder and his free hand resting gently on her back, between her shoulder blades.  "And of course he should be a generous tipper," she teased.  "Come from a good family.  Drive a cool car."

"So I think I'm covered so far," he chuckled. "What else?"

"You want more?" Heather grumbled.  "Well, he's gotta be a good kisser," she murmured, glancing at him sideways. 

It took all of Jake's willpower to keep from kissing her right then and there, but he settled for saying, "I suggest testing for that requirement as often as possible."

Heather threw her head back, allowing a full-throated laugh.  "Trust me, that's my plan," she replied.  "So," she continued, taking a deep breath, "Pizza traditionalist.  Access to a water tower and a telescope for star-gazing," Heather listed. "And -" she stopped abruptly in the hallway, just across from the main office door, and turned to face him.  "What's your birth date, Jake?"

"January, 21, 1974," he answered.   Birth dates were, he realized, one of those mundane details they hadn't gotten around to sharing in the nearly two weeks that they had known one another.  "You?" 

"June 6, 1979," Heather returned.  "And, amazingly enough, that's number thirty-four on my list of requirements.  Born on January 21, 1974."  She smiled at him.  "Now who else is ever gonna meet that one?"

Jake laughed.  "Well, my brother for one," he reminded, giving in to his urge to kiss her and pressing his lips to her temple. "Comes from the same family, and has access to the water tower," he added.  "Of course, he drives an Explorer - not exactly cool - and I've seen him order pizza with some definitely borderline toppings."

"Eric doesn't qualify," Heather argued as they started walking again toward the exit.  "He's married.  That violates the unmarried, not dying, not wanted by the FBI requirement, remember?"

"Ah, right," Jake smiled, stepping slightly in front of Heather to push the door open.  He held it open while she walked through.  "But, thirty-four requirements?  What are the other twenty or so?"

"What makes you think there are only thirty-four?" Heather grinned as she stepped past Jake, her arm brushing his chest.  "Don't worry, though," she added, catching his hand in hers, "You're still good."

* * * * *

Mrs. Crenshaw had exercised an amazing amount of personal restraint and hadn't called anyone after Jake Green had shown up in the school office, dressed to the nines, asking for Heather Lisinski.  But now, she knew that she couldn't be expected to keep this to herself.  She hadn't heard what they were saying as they passed by, but that didn't matter.  It had been obvious that they were comfortable with one another.  The way Miss Lisinski had laughed, and the expression on her face as she'd gazed up at him... the way Jake's hand had rested on her back.... Mrs. Crenshaw couldn't stop herself from smiling.  There was simply too much to not share.  Taking a deep breath, she reached for the phone and punched in a number.  The call rang through, and was answered on the other end.  "Mags?  It's Harriet.  Got time to chat?"

* * * * *

Jake followed Heather from the school to her house, parking behind her car in the driveway.  He got out of his car and walked up to hers.  She had the window rolled down and was waiting for him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.  Laughing at her, he opened her door with a flourish and then held his hand out to her.

"'Thank you, kind sir!" Heather declared sweetly, her eyes dancing. 

 "You're quite welcome, fair lady," he grinned, hauling her into his arms and then kissing her thoroughly.  Pulling away finally, he leaned his forehead against hers, panting softly.  "How'm I doing on that requirement?" he inquired, kissing the end of her nose.

"Definite A-plus," she assured him, allowing a contented sigh.  "Keep up the good work," she teased.

"Will do," Jake chuckled.  "So, we're a little overdressed for this picnic of ours," he told Heather, moving her out of the way so he could close her car door.  "All right if I change clothes?"

Heather nodded, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks.  "Grab your stuff," she told him, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. 

"Be right back," he murmured before turning around and heading back to his car.  He grabbed a duffle bag and a garment bag from the trunk, and then followed Heather into the house. 

"Where are we going for this picnic?" she asked, directing him into the guest room to change.  "And, what are we gonna eat?"

"It's a surprise," Jake told her, leaning casually in the doorway.  "But dress for the outdoors.  It's fairly rustic, though there's running water available, and toilets."

"Okay," she nodded.  "And for food?"

He stepped forward and tilted her chin up with one hand, kissing her tenderly.  "It's a surprise," Jake insisted before backing into the guest room and closing the door. 

Smiling, Heather folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself, and headed into her bedroom to dress.  She stood in front of her open closet, contemplating what she should wear.  Given the direction of 'rustic', Heather's first impulse was to find jeans and a t-shirt that she could layer a sweater or jacket over later when it cooled down, much like the outfit she'd worn for their stargazing date the previous weekend.  But, that was her practical, tomboyish side rearing its head, and the last thing Heather wanted to be on this evening was practical.  Jake, more than anyone she'd ever been around, made her feel womanly, and that was exactly how she wanted to present herself tonight: as a woman, and as his girlfriend.  Heather exhaled deeply, and forced herself to study the contents of her wardrobe with a critical eye, looking for something that had a passing acquaintance with 'rustic' but also, and more importantly, said 'hey, you're spending the evening with a girl.'  She started to go through the clothes hanging in her closet, and soon came across something she thought fit the bill.  It was a skirt, and she knew she'd probably be cold later, but that would just give her an excuse to snuggle up to Jake, Heather decided, grinning to herself.  It was perfect, she concluded, holding it up.  Now she just needed to find something to wear with it.

When she came out of her room, not quite ten minutes later, Heather found Jake sitting at her kitchen table, waiting for her.  He stood up as she entered the room, and she was reminded all over again that while Jake Green looked handsome in a suit, he looked even better in jeans and a t-shirt.  His jeans were definitely not new, and they were all the better for it, having been molded over time to his form.  And, Heather couldn't help but think, no man should do quite that much for a run of the mill t-shirt.  "Hey," she greeted him shyly.

Jake, being a man, had had time to change clothes and stow his belongings back in his car, as well as take inventory of his trunk, all while Heather had dressed.  But he sure as hell didn't mind having waited.  She'd taken his advice, sort of, changing into a khaki chino skirt that ended just above her knees, and a red scoop neck t-shirt with a plaid print blouse layered over it.  Jake had expected her to be in jeans, but he definitely liked this better.  "Hey," he returned, grinning.  "You look great."

"Thanks," she breathed.  "But is this okay?" Heather asked then, and he saw a flash of panic cross her face.  Frowning, she took a half-step back.  "Rustic enough?"

"Don't you dare even think about changing," Jake told her.  He moved toward her, pulling her against himself, and then cupped her head with both of his hands so he could kiss her, slowly but passionately, leaving them both gasping for air.  "You look great," he told her again, running his thumb over her lower lip, marveling at the slightly drugged expression she now wore.  It overwhelmed him, just for a moment, to realize he'd induced it.

"You don't get to show me this," Jake told her, running his fingertips lightly down her sides until his hands came to a gentle but possessive rest on her hips. "And then go put on jeans.  Sorry," he added, though his tone was completely unapologetic.  "Besides, it's just a picnic, not backcountry camping.  There's trees and grass and maybe mosquitoes, though hopefully they're all dead for the winter."

"Okay," Heather answered, surprising Jake.  He'd half-expected her to be offended by his demand that she dress to his preference, but instead she leaned into him, tilting her head up so she could meet his eye.  "I won't change," she grinned.  "But, should I at least bring bug spray?"'

Before he could answer, Jake's cell phone buzzed, followed a few seconds later by the crackling sound of transmission coming over the radio channel.  "Jake, ya there?" they heard his grandfather yell over the unit.

Grumbling softly to himself, Jake unhooked his phone from his belt, and raised it to his mouth, pressing the ''talk' button with his thumb.  "Yeah, I'm here, Gramps," he answered.

"Where are you?" Grandpa Green asked.  "D' ya need me to hold dinner for you?"

Jake wanted nothing more than to groan aloud at that.  After all, since the afternoon he'd met Heather, when had his grandfather needed to hold dinner for him?  He'd spent every moment he could with her, and that had included dinner almost every night.

The need to answer his grandfather was taken from Jake a second later when Heather, laying her head against his chest, placed her hand over Jake's, forcing him to push the 'talk' button again.  She pulled the phone, still held in his hand, to her mouth so she could be heard.  "Hi, Gramps!" Heather called.  "Jake is with me."

"Heather!  Hi, sweetheart!" Grandpa Green replied, chuckling.  "How are ya?  Without that grandson of mine around, I haven't seen you," he chided. 

"I'm wonderful," she answered, smiling at Jake. "And, you'll see me tomorrow," Heather reminded.

"True, true," Grandpa Green sighed.  "I've just missed your shining face, that's all," he told her.  "So, I'm takin' it that Jake won't be home for dinner then?" he inquired rhetorically. "Well, just make sure you send that boy home at a decent hour," Grandpa instructed next.  "I need his help tomorrow."
 
"Will do," she answered, pressing Jake's thumb against the 'talk' button again.  "See you in the morning."
 
"See you in the morning, kiddo," Grandpa echoed, and then ended the call.
 
Jake pulled his hand and phone out of her grasp, frowning at her softly.  "Don't know where he got the idea it was okay to sweet talk my girl," he teased.
 
She laughed, lifting her head and standing on tiptoe so she could place a sympathetic kiss on his lips.  "Well, you're just gonna have to start sweet talking her yourself then," Heather whispered against his mouth.  "Sweet talkin'.  I think that's another requirement," she grinned.  Pulling away, she asked, "Do I need to get anything else besides bug spray?"

"We could use a blanket and radio," Jake told her.  "I checked my car, and I've got everything else covered."

Heather found the requested items and handed them over to Jake, sending him out to the car with the promise that she was right behind.  When she joined him a minute later, she was carrying an opaque plastic container, a sweater, and her purse.

"What's that?" Jake asked, handing her into the passenger seat and pointing at the mystery container.

"It's a surprise," she responded, grinning.  Jake chuckled, and then kissed her, before walking around the car and climbing in.

They headed out of Jericho, west on the highway, Jake still refusing to tell Heather where they were going.  She started guessing, rather wildly since she hadn't really had time to learn anything about the area surrounding Jericho yet, and her guesses left them both laughing and joking with one another.  When they reached the point where Route 40 turned south, splitting from I-70 which headed north, Jake turned the car into the parking lot of the Silver Skillet Truck Stop and Diner. 

"This is rustic?" Heather questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," Jake returned.  "But this is where we're getting dinner.  Best cheeseburgers for fifty miles in every direction," he declared.  "And, it's on the way."

He led her into the diner, her hand clasped loosely in his, heading directly to the counter, where he waved down a waitress.  "Jake!  What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Lookin' for some dinner to go," he answered.  "Annie, this is Heather Lisinski," he introduced.  "Heather, Annie Turner, Dale's mom."

"You know Dale?" Annie asked, her expression turning immediately wary. 

Heather nodded.  Mrs. Crenshaw had told her once that Dale had a 'young mother' but she still hadn't been prepared for Annie, who looked to be about the same age as Jake or Stanley.  She managed to cover her surprise though, smiling.  "I'm the new third grade teacher at Jericho Elementary," she explained.  "Small school, so I know most of the students.  You've got a great kid.  Smart and helpful."

"Well, smart he gets from his father, I'm sure," Annie grimaced, a bitter note ringing in her tone.  "The only thing Dale ever got from 'im."

"But I'm betting he gets helpful from you," Heather smiled.

That was enough to soften the suspicion in Annie's eyes somewhat, and she nodded tiredly.  "Thanks.  He's all I got, and I love 'im to pieces," she sighed.  "You know, I think he mentioned you," Annie continued, frowning.  "Said the new teacher - Miss Lind, I thought - kept him from getting a detention when Travis Bauer punched him. So thanks for that, too." 

"You're welcome," Heather returned, waving it off as nothing.  "Though honestly, I didn't do much.  Travis was just," she paused a moment to pick the right word, "Unintelligent enough to hit Dale while I was standing five feet away to see it."

"That sounds like a Bauer," Jake grumbled, squeezing Heather's hand, a move that was not lost on Annie.

"Well," Annie started, throwing Jake an inquisitive look.  "I know what you want: cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake, always the same," she chuckled.  "But what about you?" she asked, looking again at Heather.  "Do you need a menu?"

"Not tonight," Heather answered, after considering the offer for a moment.  "I'll just have the same as Jake."

"Comin' right up," Annie promised.  "To go," she reminded herself, scrawling a note on her order pad. "Do you want any dessert?   Millie makes a pretty good pumpkin pie."

"Nope.  Dessert's covered," Heather declared before Jake could say anything.  Annie nodded, and turned to put their order in with the kitchen.

"Dessert's covered, huh?" Jake inquired, wrapping one arm around Heather's waist, and then pulling her in front of him.  He held her close, kissing the side of her head.  "So that's what's in the mystery container."

"It's a surprise," was all that Heather would say.

Annie returned with their food all boxed up, smiling at Jake when he handed her forty dollars, telling her to keep the change.  He and Heather started laughing then, neither one bothering to explain the joke, even when Annie shot them both a puzzled look.  Still confused, but glad for the extra couple of bucks, Annie thanked Jake again, and wished them a good evening.

"You know," Heather told Jake, wrapping her arm around his as they walked back to his car.  "You're gonna go broke if you keep tipping like that all the time."

"What about your requirement?" Jake teased, opening Heather's door for her.  He helped her in, and then handed her the oversized bag containing their dinner.  "Besides," he added, "If I can help Annie out, I will.  It's just a couple of bucks, no big deal."

"It's still nice," she smiled.  "Sweet, even," she added, laughing when this prompted Jake to emit an exaggerated groan. 

Jake shut her door, and then walked around to the driver's side.  Pulling out of the parking lot and back onto Route 40, Jake glanced at Heather, smiling.  She smiled back.  "My Mom - my Mom's the kinda mom who should've had a ton of kids," he told her.  "Would've driven my Dad crazy, but she would've been great at it.  Only, she couldn't.  They didn't have Eric and me until they'd been married for seven years, and there were enough complications that her doctor told her no more kids.  So she adopts," Jake explained.  "Annie and Dale.  Stanley and Bonnie." 

He didn't include Emily and her brother in his list, although they belonged there as much as the others.  Gail Green had always worried about strays, children even more than animals, and Emily and Chris Sullivan had certainly qualified in her book.  With their father hardly around, and their mother working herself to death to support them, Emily and Chris had often been at loose ends.  But Jake kept that part to himself, not wanting to hurt Heather by bringing up a sore subject.  Besides, his mother's relationship with Emily had cooled to almost non-existent after the scene at her brother's funeral.    He took a breath and then looked at Heather again.  "Just so you know, she may try to adopt you." 

She laughed.  "If I'm adopted, can we still date?"

"Hey, Eric got away with it," Jake returned.  "Mom considered April adopted way back, so I think we're good.  And just in case," he teased, "Don't sign anything if my mother asks you to."

"I won't, I promise," Heather chuckled, grinning at him.

"So, anyway, Annie," Jake continued, his tone turning serious.  "Annie got pregnant at seventeen, and she had to leave school.  She didn't have any way to take care of herself really, and her mother died when she was twelve, maybe?  Dale's father - Kevin Atkins - was gone the minute people started talking about Annie," he explained.  "The whole situation was a mess.  Kevin's father owned half the salt mine back then, and he sold his stake in it just to get the whole family outta town before Annie could demand anything from them.  Not that she would've.  Her dad worked for the mine, and he was too scared to lose his job to even push the issue."

"Wow," Heather murmured.  "That's not a soap opera at all."

"Yeah," Jake snorted.  "That's where my Mom came in.  The whole situation made her mad, and I know my Dad told her to stay out of it, but she wouldn't."  Jake sighed.  "So the next thing you know, she was babysittin' Dale."  He chuckled, shaking his head.  "My whole senior year of high school, you'd walk in the house and the first thing my Mom would say is 'don't wake the baby'.  Mom wanted Annie to go back to school, but she wouldn't.  So, she just kept doing whatever Annie'd let her do.  We all sort of fell into that."

"Poor Annie," she declared, frowning.  "Poor Dale.  He's so quiet, and I know that he works in the cafeteria every day at lunch, probably just so he can have lunch," Heather realized, sighing.  "What a horrible thing, to know that your father's family moved out of town to get away from the idea of you.  To know that, to them, all you were was a financial liability to be avoided."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, shaking his head.  He slowed the car then, turning off the highway at a sign that proclaimed 'Bass Lake 1 Mile'.  "Almost there," he told her, but without flashing his usual grin.  "Can we not talk about that anymore?" he requested suddenly.  "I shouldn't have even brought it up, but you'd met Annie, and you know Dale.  I only told you 'cause I knew you'd understand. But," he finished, turning into a parking lot at the end of the road, "Is it all right if we go back to just us for tonight?"

"Well, since I don't think we're gonna solve the issue of Annie and Dale tonight, yes," Heather agreed.  She looked at Jake, smiling softly, and then reached across the space separating their seats for his hand.  "You've unwittingly met another requirement, though," she told him, squeezing his fingers.  "The 'cares about other people' requirement."  They watched one another silently for a long moment, and then Heather looked away, glancing at their surroundings.  "So this is Bass Lake."

"This is Bass Lake," Jake confirmed.  "Let's go," he suggested, "Before our burgers get cold, and our shakes get warm."

Heather laughed at that, and popped open her door, climbing out of the car, for once without drawing Jake's protest.  She grabbed the bag from the diner, the container which held their mystery dessert, her purse and sweater.  Jake walked back to the trunk, and loaded up with all the things he'd decided they'd need.  Arms full, he closed the lid with his elbow.  They started onto the path down to the beach, coming across a sign that decreed: 'Bass Lake Beaches are Closed Dusk to Dawn.  Have a Nice Day.'

"Jake, we can't be here," Heather protested, pointing at the sign.  The sun was setting rather brilliantly over the water, and she pointed at that, too.  "It's dusk!"

He shook his head, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her lips, dropping the blanket he was carrying in the process.  "That's just for swimming," he assured her.  "All we're gonna do is sit on the beach."

"Yeah, right," Heather muttered, fighting a giggle.  She fixed Jake with a knowing look.  "Well, I hope you know the park rangers as well as you know the sheriff's deputies."

"Luckily, this time of year, it's the sheriff's deputies patrolling the lake, anyway," Jake offered, bending over to grab the fallen blanket.

Heather groaned.  "Oh, great!  I can meet Deputy Taylor again!"

"Nah, no way any of them are comin' down here on a Wednesday night.  Not worth their trouble," he told her, gesturing for her to precede him on the path which narrowed about ten feet ahead of them.  "C'mon," he cajoled, "Our dinner's getting cold."

They continued down the sloping, slightly winding path for another two hundred yards before coming out onto a small sand and gravel beach.  Jake set the things he was carrying down on the ground, and then pulled out a blue tarp, spreading it out on the ground about twenty feet from the lake's edge.  "There are other beaches around the lake, and this one's pretty small, but I like it," Jake told Heather, distracting her from her mesmerized study of the setting sun.  "Doesn't have a boat launch, so it doesn't get as much traffic, and tonight it's all ours."

"It's perfect," she replied, throwing Jake a smile over her shoulder.  He pulled the blanket she'd brought along out of its plastic case, and started to spread it out.  She set her things, including the bag with their food, down and moved to help him lay the blanket out over the top of the tarp. 

Jake placed the radio on one corner of the blanket and tuned it in, while Heather went to work laying their picnic out.  "So, let's eat," Jake suggested, moving on his knees toward Heather.  He smiled at her crookedly, and held his hand out.  Heather toed off her shoes, and then padded two steps across the blanket, dropping down into the circle of Jake's arms.  He hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head, before helping her seat herself next to him, their thighs pressed together.  They dug in.

"Okay, this really is the best cheeseburger I've had in ages," Heather announced a few minutes later.  She was halfway through her burger, and relishing every bite of it.  "You do know how to treat a girl," she told Jake, leaning over to kiss him.  She glanced around, taking in the sight of the lake before them, the rolling hills behind them, the trees all around them, everything still visible despite the fading light.  Finally, she returned her gaze to Jake, smiling up at him softly so that her eyes crinkled at the corners.  "This is a great place," Heather murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Glad you approve," Jake replied, taking a sip of his shake.  He picked out a ketchup-doused French fry - just the way she liked them - and fed it to Heather.  "We'll have to come back in the summer, though we won't have the lake to ourselves then."

"For two weeks every summer of my childhood, we ended up camping somewhere like this," Heather told him, smiling absently at the thought.  "The preferred vacation of large families, you know," she joked.  "But we had a good time.  Hiking, swimming, playing card games, sitting around the campfire making s'mores," she catalogued, reaching for another fry, her fingers brushing against Jake's.  "It was the only time of the year where we got to eat the really sugary cereal.  My Mom would buy a big variety pack of the individual cereal boxes, and we would all fight over the Froot Loops and Corn Pops," Heather laughed.

"Oh, yeah," Jake agreed, chuckling.  "My Mom almost never bought the variety pack, but when she did it was heaven.  Eric and I would always try to make the bowl out of the box - never worked - always made a mess.  It totally drove her crazy."

Heather turned her head, looking up at him quizzically.  "You really couldn't make it work?" she questioned.  "It's not that hard, just follow the directions."

"You're telling me that you can make a cereal box bowl that doesn't leak?" Jake demanded, staring down at her.  It was obvious from his expression that he didn't think that was possible.

"Well, not to brag," Heather said, grinning at Jake, "But, yeah."

"I'm gonna buy one of those variety packs, and you're gonna have to prove it," he told her, challenge in his eye.  "'Cause I don't know that I believe you."

"Okay," she acknowledged.  "So, is this a bet?"

Jake nodded.  "Sure," he agreed.  "Absolutely."

Heather muffled a giggle, and then scooted around so she was facing him, arms crossed over her chest.  "What are the terms?" she demanded.

He stared at her for a long moment, something she was only starting to recognize as passion flaring in his eyes for just a second before he blinked it away.  It was enough to make Heather's throat turn dry and, unconsciously, she licked her lips.  Jake groaned almost inaudibly.  "I don't know," he muttered.  "We'll come up with somethin'."

The last bite he'd taken of his cheeseburger had left a stray dab of mustard on the corner of his mouth.  Without thinking about it, Heather leaned forward, kissing Jake, her arms twining around his neck.  He caught her against himself, both hands on her waist, moaning when he felt her tongue sweep against his skin before running over the seam of his lips.  He opened his mouth to her, tightening his hold on her.

"You had some mustard," she tried to explain when they finally separated, both gasping for breath, both flushed and a little dazed.  Heather reached out, tracing one finger along the edge of his mouth.  "Right here."

"Babe," Jake whispered.  He captured her hand in his own, pressing his lips to her palm before letting it go.  His expression was unfathomable, and at the same time Heather felt like she understood him perfectly, though she knew that she couldn't express any of it in words.  She sat back, her legs stretched out in front of her, the right one pressed against Jake's left.  "God," he muttered, shaking his head. 

They both let out deep sighs which was enough to make them laugh softly, dissipating some of the tension of the moment.  Heather reached for the remains of her burger, and took a bite, continuing to watch Jake.  He smiled at her, and looked down, running his hand over her calf.  "How'd you do this?" he inquired, circling the tip of one finger around a faint though still impressive scar just below her knee.

"That is a field hockey injury," Heather answered, swallowing.  "Semi-final match at the regional tournament my junior year," she explained, shaking her head.  She found her milk shake and took a sip before continuing.  "Didn't actually see whoever got me.  It was just one big pile-up in the middle of the field.  Had to get five stitches."

"Wow," Jake chuckled, grinning at her.  He reached for a handful of French fries and then offered her the box.  "Went to a fight and a hockey game broke out, huh," he teased, still stroking her leg with one hand.

She giggled, trembling slightly at his touch.  "That's ice hockey.  Girl's field hockey's supposed to be a little more refined," Heather insisted.  "Just not that day," she admitted another shudder running through her.

"Is this bothering you?" Jake asked, grinning at her as he continued to worry her lower leg and knee, tracing patterns on it much as he'd done at dinner on Sunday night. 

"Not at all," Heather denied, trying to school her features so that he wouldn't know just how distracted by his touch she really was.  She reached for another fry, and then finished off her cheeseburger, glancing at Jake occasionally as he continued his flirtatious assault upon her leg.  Heather sat back, propping herself on her hands, and smiled at Jake.  He ran all five fingers up her calf, and then splayed his hand over her knee.  She shivered involuntarily.

"You're sure I'm not bothering you?" Jake inquired then, his expression smug.

"It's just a natural reaction," she responded, exasperation bleeding into her tone.

"Uh-huh," he agreed, nodding.  Jake returned to drawing on her leg and she realized suddenly that he was writing letters again, but she was too unsettled at this point to even attempt to figure out his message.  "Just a natural reaction," he repeated, trying not to laugh out loud.

Heather glared ineffectively at him.  "It's like when you're a kid, and you do that game.  'Big X, little x'," she argued.  "You know what I'm talking about," Heather insisted.

"Nope," Jake told her.  "But if you say so."  He started to draw X's on her leg.  "Big X, little x," he repeated, his eyes locking with hers.  "Like that?"

She shook her head, moving so that she was kneeling next to Jake, her legs folded safely out of his reach beneath her.  "No," she said, "But I'll show you."

Their eyes met, and he threw her a lopsided smile, shrugging.  "This is a kids' game?" he grinned.  "Okay," he consented. 

On her knees, Heather crawled around Jake, stopping behind him, her hands on his shoulders.  She leaned down a few inches and kissed his ear, whispering, "Ready?"

Jake chuckled.  "Sure, do your worst."

Taking a deep breath, Heather scooted backwards just enough so that she wasn't touching Jake.  She waited, counting off fifteen seconds in her head, though it seemed like an eternity.  With her index finger she traced a diagonal line down Jake's back from the top of his left shoulder to the waistband of his jeans.  "Big X," she murmured, starting to trace a line in the other direction, beginning at his right shoulder. 

Heather counted to three this time, and then quickly marked a small 'x' between his shoulder blades with her fingernail.  Leaning over, she whispered "Little x," next to his ear.  "Circle," she continued, drawing one in the center of his back, before poking him quickly with her finger.  "And, a dot," she declared.

"What -"

"No talking," she told him sternly.  She ran her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, tilting forward long enough to press a quick kiss to the top of his head.  Reaching around Jake, Heather placed both hands on his arms as far down as she could reach without falling over.  Dragging her fingertips up his arms in a skittering pattern, she whispered, "Spiders crawling up your arms."  She paused now, just for a moment, resting the palms of both hands atop his shoulders.  Exhaling, Heather moved her hands back down his arms, harmlessly raking her fingernails over his skin.  "Snakes crawling down," she murmured, her voice lilting. 

Jake shivered, prompting a soft though triumphant giggle from Heather. 

"Tight squeeze," she announced, pressing her hands to either side of his waist and squeezing quickly, before moving them back to his shoulders. With one hand, Heather pushed his slightly long hair off his neck, and then blew gently on it.  "Cool breeze."  Finally, she flicked the fingers of both hands against his back, declaring, "Now you've got the chills."

He couldn't keep himself from trembling again, the seductive sensation of Heather's touch, followed by her breath against the back of his neck, momentarily overwhelming Jake.  He turned, meeting Heather's gaze for just a second before hauling her into his arms and onto his lap.  "That's a kid's game?" he demanded hoarsely, bringing his mouth down on top of hers, hard.

"I may have adapted a little," Heather admitted, winding her arms around his neck, returning his kiss.  "But, yeah."

"The 'X' game," Jake muttered as he moved along her jaw, nipping at it gently, and then kissing away any sting. 

Heather chuckled.  "We always called it 'giving the chills'," she admitted, massaging the back of his neck with her thumbs.  She pulled away from Jake, forcing him to look up, meeting her eye.  "Last time I did that I was, maybe twelve, thirteen," she told him, pressing her lips to his.  "Slumber party," she giggled.

"Of course it was a slumber party," Jake groaned, resting his forehead against hers.  "You were probably wearing flannel pajamas, too," he joked, taking a deep breath.

She slid, not quite gracefully, off of Jake's lap.  "Ow," she complained, laughing softly at herself, flashing him a wry grin.  "Nah, I'm pretty sure it was August," Heather sighed, "Shorts and a tank top."

He shook his head, also exhaling deeply.  Looking around, Jake blinked and then faced Heather again.  "When did it get dark?" he asked, chuckling.

"I don't know," Heather answered honestly, glancing around as well.  The light was nearly gone, and the moon and the first stars of the evening had appeared in the sky.  "I wasn't looking."

Jake stood up and moved away, returning a few seconds later with a large flashlight which he placed off to the side, turning it on and then draping a white t-shirt over in order to soften the harsh glare.

"Mood lighting," Heather teased, her tone slightly cautious.  "You've thought of everything."

"Yeah, well, I don't know where the big ass flashlight came from, but it was in my trunk," Jake explained.  "Figured we might as well use it."

She smiled at him and then busied herself cleaning up the trash left over from their dinner.  When she had everything bagged up, Jake took it from her.  Heather watched as he walked down the beach, and then up a small, grassy rise to a picnic area where there were primitive restrooms and garbage bins.  She knew and appreciated that, just as on their first date, Jake had walked away for a moment in order to give them both the space they needed.  It was amazing how quickly things could escalate between them, and every time Jake exercised the self-control that she couldn't seem to manage, Heather found herself falling for him just that much harder.  Sighing, she reached back, turning up the volume on the radio slightly, and then settled herself on the blanket, knees bent, her sweater draped over her legs, both for warmth and modesty.

"Hey," Jake said, seating himself next to Heather, startling her out of her reverie.  He smiled at her sweetly, and then leaned over kissing her on her hairline.  "So, what'd you do today?"

"Overslept by a half hour," she admitted with a shrug.  "Went to school.  I caught two eighth graders making out in the science lab when I took my students down to check on our plant experiments," Heather chuckled.  She leaned over, resting her head against his shoulder.  "That wasn't at all awkward," she grumbled.  "I'm standing there with my entire class, who all want to know what's going on, and I'm trying to figure out how to handle it.  I don't know," Heather murmured.  "I don't really remember.  It was just a regular day until you showed up."  She looked sideways at him, their eyes locking.  "What about you?"

"Lawyers and driving, and now I'm with you," he answered, reaching for her hand.  He laced their fingers together and then raised their joined hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.  "Best part of my day."

Neither of them said anything for about a minute, both content to simply be together, and enjoy the gentle breeze that was blowing off the lake.  Jake let go of Heather's hand, wrapping his arm around her waist instead, and pulling her closer.  She laid her head against his arm, lifting it after only a few seconds when she heard the first few notes of a familiar song.  "Oh, I love this one," she said, smiling at Jake.  Heather pulled away long enough to turn up the volume on the radio, and then returned to her place at his side.

He listened for a moment, trying to identify the song for himself.  As soon as he heard the first words, Jake groaned and then started to laugh softly.  He was in no way a fan of what he considered to be 'country pop', but even he knew this song; it had played on the radio so much over the past year or two that it had been impossible to avoid.  "And, here I thought one of the advantages of dating a girl from New York was that you probably wouldn't turn out to be a big country music fan," he complained, kissing Heather's ear.

"I have broad musical tastes," she responded, grinning.  Heather turned her head, brushing her mouth over his.  "Though I hafta admit, I've been listening to more of it since I moved to Kansas."

"So we've corrupted you, huh?" Jake asked.  He allowed a deep sigh and, reaching for her hand, climbed to his feet.  "Dance with me?" he invited.

"It's a country song," Heather reminded, hesitating for a moment before she allowed Jake to help her stand up.

"It's you," he countered with a gentle smile, pulling her into his embrace.  Heather, her throat suddenly tight, could only return his smile, and press herself against him.

The chorus of the song came up just as they started to dance, though it was actually more of a coordinated sway, the two of them plastered together, her head tucked beneath Jake's chin, her ear resting over his heart.

I don't know how you do what you do.  I'm so in love with you, it just keeps getting better. 

Heather closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.  All her previous slow dance experiences had been in school gyms and church parish halls, always under the watchful eyes of nuns and CYO chaperones.  She had danced with the boys she'd grown up with, six inches of space between her and her partner, her hands on his shoulders, his arms around her waist, the two of them moving back and forth in the small space they'd carved out for themselves.  After the first thirty seconds, they were usually both desperate for the song to be over, forced to keep moving - step left, step center, step right, step center - until the song ended and they could flee one another's presence.  Dancing with Jake was such a completely different experience that it might as well have been the first dance of her life.

 
I wanna spend the rest of my life, with you by my side.  Forever and ever. 
Every little thing that you do.  Baby, I'm amazed by you.

 
Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo.  Having Heather in his arms was both wonderful and torturous at the same time.  He was acutely sensitive to every point where their bodies touched, especially her breasts crushed against his chest.  Jake allowed his hands to skim down her back, over her hips, across the top of her buttocks, before tightening his hold on her, trying to pull her closer, though that was hardly possible.  She mesmerized him; dancing with Heather was as intimate of an experience as any he'd had in his life.

 
The smell of your skin, the taste of your kiss.  The way you whisper in the dark. 
Your hair all around me, baby you surround me.  You touch every place in my heart. 
Oh, it feels like the first time, every time.  I wanna spend the whole night in your eyes.

 
She raised her head from Jake's chest, smiling at him shyly.  Heather ran her hand up his back, caressing him through his t-shirt and crooning his name, almost inaudibly.  He brought his mouth down on top of her slightly parted lips, kissing her thoroughly.  They clung to one another, hands everywhere, both overcome with their passion for the other.

Every little thing that you do, I'm so in love with you.  It just keeps getting better. 
I wanna spend the rest of my life, with you by my side, forever and ever. 
Every little thing that you do.  Oh, every little thing that you do.  Baby, I'm amazed by you.

 
The song ended, though neither Jake nor Heather noticed immediately.  They were leaning on one another, propping each other up, reveling in both their physical and emotional connections.  A commercial blasted forth from the radio, startling Heather so that she took a step back, pulling away from Jake.  She faced him, giggling, eyes wide.  Their gazes locked, and the commercial continued, a used car salesman shouting about the 'deals of the century' he was currently offering, urging them to 'rush on down'.

Jake twisted away, bending to turn down the volume on the radio.  "Isn't that the smarmy guy from TV?  The one in the ten-gallon hat that kinda looks like Ross Perot?" Heather asked, chuckling softly.

"Yeah, that's him," Jake agreed, nodding absently, after contemplating the question for a long moment.  "Uh, Bob Carter, used car king of western Kansas."

"Right," Heather murmured, studying Jake closely for a few seconds.  "So," she continued, "Ready for dessert?"

Again, Jake had to force himself to concentrate on the here and now so that he could answer the question.  "Finally get to find out what's in the mystery container, huh?" he grinned, reaching for her hand.

"Yeah," she acknowledged, squeezing his fingers.  "Sit down," Heather instructed, retrieving the round plastic container from the edge of the blanket.  Jake had seated himself as ordered, and Heather dropped down next to him, her arm brushing his.  "I really can't cook," she started, taking a deep breath.  "A few things, sure, for potlucks and parties, things like that.  What I can do is bake," Heather explained, popping the top off the container.  "And, that's what I was doing last night when we were talking on the phone, actually." 

"So that's what all the noise was," he nodded knowingly.  "I didn't really buy the neighbor's cat story, you know."

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Heather shrugged.  She held the now open dish out to Jake.  "Peanut butter cookies," she offered, smiling.  "With milk chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, and peanut butter chips.  My brothers call that 'Heatherizing' a cookie."

"Sounds perfect to me," he chuckled, taking a cookie out of the container.  He waited until she'd extracted one for herself, and then held his up.  "To 'Heatherized' cookies," he toasted, winking at her.  Laughing, she knocked her cookie into his, careful not to break either, and then they both took their first bites.

They sat together, talking a little, but mostly in companionable silence, Heather eating two cookies to Jake's four.  When she'd finished her second, Jake leaned over kissing her softly, nipping at the corner of her mouth.  "Crumbs," he told her grinning.  "Just returning the favor for the mustard."

She laughed at that, resting her head against his arm.  "Do you want any more?" Heather asked as he brushed cookie crumbs off his hands.

"No, I'm good," Jake assured her.  He kissed her forehead, and then the bridge of her nose.  "And, those were great," he told her.  "I may just be spoiled for any other peanut butter cookie for the rest of my life," he joked.  "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome," Heather whispered as he brushed his mouth over hers.  "And, you get to take the rest home with you," she added as he knitted their fingers together.  "You just have to share with Gramps."

"Oh great," Jake complained, chuckling softly and rolling his eyes.  "First I'm competing with an eight year old, and now with my own grandfather."

Giggling, Heather threw her head back, giving Jake a lovely view of her neck.  Unable to resist such a tantalizing swath of skin, he pulled her half into his lap, and then kissed her just below her ear.  With deliberate slowness, he worked his way down until he'd reached the point where her blouse and shoulder met.  Changing course, he twisted slightly to give himself better access and began kissing his way along her collarbone.  Heather's giggles had long since turned to moans and yips of satisfaction, and Jake couldn't help but feel rather pleased with himself.

"Jake, hon," Heather murmured.  Her hand had found its way to his chest, and she tugged at his t-shirt, her fingers fisting in the soft cotton.  Reluctantly, he lifted his head, meeting her eye.  "You don't have to worry," she told him, though Jake wasn't completely sure what it was that he was supposed to be concerned about.  "I'm like Goldilocks," she joked.  "This one is too young."  Heather pointed left into the darkness.  "And, this one is too old.  Though," she warned, "Don't you dare tell Gramps I said that."

"Trust me, if Gramps ever forgets that he's too old for you, I will be reminding him," Jake snorted.  "Now, the question is," he continued, dipping his head to graze her mouth with his own, "Should I be worried that you've picked my grandfather as your back-up guy?" he teased.

"He's not my back-up guy," Heather protested, sighing contentedly.  She twined her arms around Jake's neck, smiling at him.  "I don't need a back-up guy," she added.  "I'm Goldilocks, remember," Heather repeated.  "So, that one's too young, and that one's too old," she joked softly.  "But this one," she breathed against his mouth, "This one is just right."

Neither of them felt any compulsion to talk after that, and they concentrated on one another, and the delightful sensations they were experiencing together.  Their universe had reduced itself to mouths and lips; hands, fingers and skin; Heather and Jake.  Sometime later, she pulled away, smiling at him and catching his hand in her own as she lay back on the blanket.  Jake took a deep, shuddering breath, and leaned over to brush her hair out of her somewhat glassy eyes, eliciting a shiver from Heather.  His finger moved to her slightly swollen lips, sweeping over them lightly before he brought his mouth down on hers.

Jake lay next to Heather rather than on top of her, though his leg did find its way between both of hers. His fingers moved to, and then under, the bottom edge of her t-shirt.  Jake splayed his hand possessively over her stomach, asking thickly, "Okay?"   She nodded, and he kissed her quickly before his hand continued its upward journey, inching over her skin until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast.  "Okay?" Jake questioned again, noticing how the calluses on his fingertips seemed all the more rough in contrast to the smooth satin of her bra.

At that moment, Heather knew without a doubt that Jake Green would be her first lover.  It wouldn't happen tonight - she wasn't ready for that - but it was inevitable, she realized.  This revelation stunned Heather, who had always guarded that part of herself so carefully.  It should have scared her too, she acknowledged, and she accepted the fact that it didn't as further proof of the rightness of the situation.  Heather knew she could trust - did trust - herself to Jake; he'd proven himself worthy of that trust over and over during the preceding two weeks.  He seemed to know exactly where her ever-changing line was, and while he'd push her right up to that line, he respected it, and didn't push beyond it.

"You okay?" he asked, lifting himself up a few inches to stare down at her, frowning, concern written in his expression.  He withdrew his hand from beneath her shirt, bringing it up to cup her cheek.  "You had a funny look on your face," he murmured.

Heather raised herself up on her elbows until her mouth met Jake's.  She poured everything she was feeling into her kiss, nowhere near ready to tell him with words about her realization.  "I'm fine," she assured him, pulling away for a second, and then pressing her lips to his again.  "Great, wonderful, perfect," Heather giggled against his mouth.

She sank back down, resting on the blanket.  Jake lowered himself next to Heather and began playing with her hair.  "Okay," he agreed, brushing his nose against hers.  "So, how soon do I need to take you home?" he inquired softly, nuzzling her cheek.

"Not now," she told him, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  "Not now.  Later."

* * * * *

It was nearly nine-thirty before they left Bass Lake, and they only left then at Jake's insistence.  The temperature had dropped considerably in the hours after darkness fell, and Heather - despite her sweater, despite cuddling up to Jake, despite wrapping the blanket around her legs - hadn't been able to keep her teeth from chattering.  Jake had kissed her on the forehead and told her it was time to go, before she froze to death, and Heather had reluctantly agreed.  "We'll come here again, sometime," he'd promised, helping her stand.  "And, we've got plenty more evenings ahead of us just like this one, babe," Jake had assured her, hugging her quickly.

Heather had kissed him in response, but when she'd pulled away a few seconds later, her teeth had started chattering again.  Jake had shaken his head at her, insisting that they needed to get moving.  Working together, they had packed everything up, accomplishing the task quickly and efficiently.  "Thank you, Jake," Heather had said when they were ready to head back to the car.  "I had a great time.  'Just us' was perfect," she'd smiled, "So, thank you."

"My pleasure," he'd responded, taking her hand in his.  "Let's go."  Heather, with one last glance back at the lake and their now bare spot on the beach, had allowed him to lead her back up the path.

Now at the car, Jake threw everything he was carrying in the back seat, and then helped Heather settle herself in the passenger's seat.  Walking around the car, he started to climb in, only to be stopped by Heather.  "Jake, I think we got a ticket," she announced, frowning and pointing through the windshield at a slip of paper secured against the glass by the wiper blade. 

He climbed back out of the car and retrieved the paper, reading first one side and then the other.  Sliding back into his seat, he grinned at Heather.  "It's not a ticket," Jake told her.  "Well, it is, but he voided it out."  He held the slip out to her.  "Your new friend, Deputy Taylor, left me a note," he added.

"You're kidding," Heather muttered, accepting the piece of paper.  She examined it.  It was in fact a ticket, and it had been filled out nearly completely with the 'incident location' - Bass Lake East Shore Picnic Area Parking Lot - as well as Jake's name and license plate number.  It was signed 'Deputy J. Taylor', and 'VOID' had been written in big letters across the form.  Heather flipped the ticket over and read it.

Jake,

You must have forgotten, but the lake's closed at night.  I'm sure you'll remember next time.  Hope you had a good evening.

Jimmy

Heather looked up to catch Jake trying valiantly not to laugh.  "Oh, God," she groaned, letting her head fall back against the seat.  "This is embarrassing," she complained, fighting her own giggle.  "And, I thought you said that they wouldn't come down here on a Wednesday night," she added, glaring softly at Jake.

"I forgot that Jimmy's sometimes an overachiever," he admitted, shrugging.   Jake reached across the car for her hand, raising it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles, palm, and then wrist.  "Are you really embarrassed?"

"Nah," she admitted, shaking her head. "It's you," she sighed, smiling at him.  "There's nothin' about you that embarrasses me, Jake Green."

Jake let go of her hand then, leaning over to press his mouth to hers.  "Good," he muttered.  A long moment later he pulled reluctantly away, offering Heather a gentle grin.  "Ready to go home?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thursday, October 26, five weeks after the bombs

Jake quietly opened the bedroom door and slipped in, before rotating to push it closed, slowly, so it didn't creak and give his presence away.  He'd made it back into the house and upstairs without running into anyone, a minor miracle, considering that the entire Green family was now living under one roof.  He turned around only to find his wife watching him, her expression rather amused.

"Hey," Heather greeted, stretching her hands above her head.  She was sitting, cross-legged, in the middle of the bed - their bed, he reminded himself since, as today's events had proven, the only prudent option was to live in town, at least for now.  "Where'd you disappear to?" she asked, moving some of the papers she had spread out over the top of the bed.

"Had to go back to town hall," Jake admitted, crossing the few feet between the door and the bed.  He threw himself down in the space Heather had just cleared, sighing as he felt his aching body sink into the mattress.  "Somebody needed to make sure Mitch Cafferty was tucked in for the night," he yawned, rolling onto his side so he could press his face against her thigh.

"Jake," Heather murmured, her hand finding its way into his hair. 

"I just went in to check things, Heather," he snapped, cringing when her hand stilled against his head.  "Nothing else," Jake sighed, turning so he could look up at her.  "Someone had to secure for the night.  That's all I did.  And, I know - I know you think there's something redeemable about everyone.  I love that about you," he said frowning, "But, babe, it's not true, not when it comes to Mitch Cafferty.  There's nothing -"

"I wasn't gonna yell at you, Jake," she muttered, twisting away and then sliding off the bed.  She carried her stack of paperwork to the bureau and dropped it on top.  Heather turned around, facing him warily across the five feet of space that separated them.  "And, you know, I don't actually care if Mitch Cafferty can be redeemed - I believe you when you say he can't.  I just - do you know what I've been doing today, the last few days, with this?" she asked, pointing at the pile of folders behind her on the dresser top.  "I've been filling out 'end of year' reports on students I had for less than a month.  How stupid is that?" Heather demanded, shaking her head in frustration. 

Jake had known what she'd been doing over the past few days.  The school board had finally held an emergency meeting two days after the EMP, despite the fact that the board president and district superintendent were both missing.  One vote had been taken - unanimous - to close both schools indefinitely.  Heather, though, still had access to the building, and student files had started appearing around the house at the beginning of the week.  It had struck Jake as odd at first, but he'd realized pretty quickly that finishing her student's records was a form of mourning for Heather, and that it was best to leave her to it.

"C'm'ere," Jake said softly.  He was sitting up, holding his hand out to her.

Heather walked back to the bed, and taking Jake's hand, allowed him to pull her down next to him.  "I'm sorry," she mumbled, leaning against him.  "I'm tired, and I'm not in the best mood, and today really scared me," she admitted.

"Today scared me, too," he told her, kissing her on the forehead.  "But I didn't -"

"I know," she interrupted, squeezing his hand.  "I know you weren't out there having fun today, Jake.  I know that you only did what you had to do.  I trust you," Heather added, offering him a tentative smile.  "Now, I like it better when you take a moment to calm down before you run off after the bad guys, and I definitely like it better when you have back up," she said, emitting a shaky laugh.  "But I trust you."

"I'm startin' to appreciate having back up myself," Jake chuckled humorlessly.  "But don't tell Eric that," he ordered, burying his face against Heather's neck.  "I love you," he told her, kissing her shoulder.  'And, I will protect you,' he thought.  'You and our baby, from Mitch Cafferty and everyone like him.'

"Well, can I tell Jimmy?" Heather teased, massaging Jake's neck.  "'Cause I think I like it when Jimmy backs you up."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, lifting his head.  "Jimmy's a good guy to have around."

She ran her hand up his neck and into his hair, accidentally brushing the knot on the back of his head, drawing a groan from Jake.  Heather shot him a sympathetic look.  "How's your head?"

Jake shrugged.  "I'll live," he muttered, trying to distract her with a kiss.

"You should take something," she told him.

"I already did, couple times," Jake admitted, pulling away from Heather.  He moved around her, climbing off the bed.  "What I should take is a shower," Jake added, bending over to kiss the top of Heather's head.  "I'm pretty scrungy."

"Well, I wasn't gonna say anything, but yeah," she chuckled, catching his hand.  "And, you do realize that you just made up a word," Heather accused lightly.  She shook her head, grinning at him.  "Just make sure you come right back," she instructed, throwing him a suggestive look before finally releasing his hand.

Jake returned her grin.  "Oh, I'll be back," he promised.

* * * * *

Whistling off-key and softly to himself, Jake padded barefoot down the hallway.  The shower had been cold - invigorating, he tried to tell himself, but really just cold - and he'd hurried through it, though he definitely felt better for it.  His hair was still damp, and he'd made only a half-hearted attempt to dry off before pulling on shorts and leaving the bathroom.  Jake carried his dirty clothes with him, his towel thrown over his shoulder.  Pushing open the bedroom door, he stepped inside.  "So, where were we?" 

"Well, hello to you, too, Jake," his sister-in-law replied, shooting him a knowing look and making an obvious effort not to snicker.  She was sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, near the foot, leaning back on her hands, while Heather sat Indian style in the middle.  His mother had dragged the room's one chair out of the corner and had stationed it next to the bed.  "As for where we were," April continued, her grin bordering on evil, "I'm pretty sure that we - you and me, anyway - weren't anywhere," she teased.

Heather caught his eye then, her expression slightly sheepish.  She shrugged her shoulders but didn't say anything.  Jake blew out a frustrated breath.  "Yeah, well.  Yeah," he returned, rolling his eyes.  He was tired, he hurt, and all he wanted to do was wrap himself around his wife and forget that the world was quickly going to hell for a little while.  Tonight he wasn't even going to try and engage in a battle of wits with April. 

Jake walked the few steps to the bureau, throwing his dirty clothes in the general direction of the laundry basket in the corner.  "Hamper!" the Green women chorused in almost perfect harmony.  Jake, facing away from the three of them, gave into the urge to roll his eyes again.  Groaning, he reached down to scoop up his discarded clothing, then took another step toward the basket and tossed them on top of everything else.

"Okay?" he grumbled, glancing back over his shoulder at them.  He grabbed a clean t-shirt out of the dresser, and pulled it on.  He started to stomp toward the door.  "I'll get outta the way of the girl talk."

"Jake -" Heather finally spoke, but April cut her off.

"Don't be such a grump," she admonished.  "And, we're not really here for the girl talk, although we did indulge."  Exhaling, April pushed herself up.  "Mom and I are making a house call.  I hear you got hit in the head.  So, come sit down," she ordered, pointing to the spot next to her on the bed.  "Lemme have a look, and then we'll get out of your way."  She smiled at him sweetly.  "And then you can get back to where you were."

"Fine," Jake sighed, starting to shake his head only to think better of it.  He crossed the room, dropping into the space April had indicated. 

"Turn," she instructed, pushing on his shoulder gently.  "I'm going to start with the back of your head, since I hear that you've got a pretty impressive goose egg back here," April explained, her hand already in his hair.  Her touch was tender but clinical, nothing like Heather's.  She found the lump almost immediately, and traced it with her index finger, measuring its size.  "God, a phrenologist would have so much fun with you," April complained.  "What the hell did he hit you with?"

"I got hit from behind," Jake reminded.  Heather moved over so that she was sitting next to and facing him.  She reached for his hand, flashing him a tentative smile that Jake couldn't help but return.   "So, I didn't really get a good look," he added, trying to look back over his shoulder at April.

"Barrel of a shot gun," Heather supplied, her tone sour.  Surprised, Jake turned his head back a little too quickly to stare at her.  "That's what Jimmy said that Dale said," she explained, frowning.

"Sounds about right," he admitted, shrugging.  "Sure as hell hurt."

"Jake!" Gail exclaimed.  She stood up, a first aid kit clutched to her chest, glaring at him.

"I didn't ask to get hit in the head," he argued.  "And, Mom, I'm okay.  I'll be fine."

"Not so fast," April interjected.  "I'm the doctor, and I haven't decided that yet," she joked, tapping him on the shoulder.  "Turn around."  Grumbling softly, Jake did as she asked.  April checked his eyes with a penlight.  "Okay, I already knew you had a concussion, but yeah, you have a concussion," she declared.  "And, I'm guessing that cut's way too old to stitch, right?" she added, gesturing at the puffy gash in his cheek that was starting to scab over.

"Thankfully, yes," Jake answered.  "Look, I washed -"

"You should've found me sooner," April scolded.  "When I could've done something.  Now, we just have to hope it doesn't get infected."  She looked at her mother-in-law.  "So, you want to take over here?  I'm going to get the Tylenol."  She stood up, looking back at Heather.  "And, somebody's going to have to wake him up every two hours."

Gail had already opened an antiseptic wipe, which she applied to Jake's cut.  "Ow!  Mom!  What the -"

"Oh, don't be a baby," she chided, pressing harder.  "The package says sting-free."

"Sure, when it's not your face!" Jake complained.

His mother was less than sympathetic.  "Hold still," Gail ordered, "And it'll go faster."

Heather, now sitting on the edge of the bed next to Jake, holding his hand, caught April's eye.  "I've got the world's cheapest travel alarm clock, and it's still working.  I'll take care of waking him up."

"Then we have a treatment plan," April decided.  "I'll be right back."  She walked to the door, and opened it, coming face to face with Eric, who peered curiously into the room over her shoulder. 

"What's going on?" he asked, just as Jake yelped at his mother's liberal application of Neosporin to his cut. 

April smiled at him tentatively.  "Jake's paying for a couple of his sins."

"Oooh!  Can I watch?" Eric joked.  He wrapped an arm around April, forcing her to back up so he could enter the room.

Jake turned his head to glare at his brother, earning him a slap on the hand.  "Be still," Gail commanded.

"You know Jake, you really need to learn to duck," Eric advised, as April, after planting a kiss on his cheek, slipped out from under his arm and headed again for the door.

Grumbling, Jake twisted around, reaching past Heather to grab a pillow which he then heaved at his brother.  "Kiss my -"

"Jake!" Gail shouted over her son.  "Please!"

* * * * *

"Okay, I love your Dad, but what part of 'he needs his rest and it's late' does he not get?" Heather grumbled, leaning back against the door as if she believed there was a chance that her in-laws might actually try to return.  She frowned at Jake, who was sitting up in the room's lone chair, holding an instant cold compress to the back of his head and smirking at her. 

"Hey, you're the one who invited everyone over," he reminded with a snort.  "I was all for a nice, quiet evening at home, just the two of us.  But no, you had to host a family party."

"I just wanted April to look at your head.  Who knew your Dad was gonna want to chat?" Heather argued.  Johnston, who had slept most of the day away, had woken up, still wheezing and still feverish, but feeling well rested.  When he'd found the rest of the household in Jake's and Heather's bedroom, he'd come in, sat down, and preceded to demand all the details of the day's events.  It had taken Heather nearly a half hour to get him back out the door.

She shook her head, allowing a frustrated sigh.  Her gaze refocused on Jake, narrowing slightly.  "You!  In bed, now!" she ordered.

Jake chuckled, leering at her playfully.  "Well, if you insist," he said, pulling himself up out of the chair, groaning.  He dropped onto the bed, scooting over to the far side.  He patted the empty spot next to him.  "Come here," he yawned.

"Lay down," Heather laughed, finally abandoning her guard duties.  She crossed the room, seating herself on the edge of the bed.  "And, put that cold pack back on your head.  Then we can negotiate."  He made a feeble attempt to push the compress underneath his head, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Heather.  "Okay, up," she instructed, tugging on his arm.  Jake sat back up, and she fluffed his pillow for him.  Then, holding the compress to the knot on the back of his head she got him to lay back down, extracting her hand once he was supine. 

He grabbed Heather before she could move away, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close so he could kiss her.  "So where were we?" he whispered against her mouth.

"Oh, hon," she smiled at him, pulling away.  "Trust me, if you were in any condition, I'd be right there with ya,"

"Yeah," Jake agreed reluctantly a few seconds later.  He closed his eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly.  "The spirit's willing," he joked, frowning tiredly, "But the flesh -"

"Not so much," Heather completed for him, kissing his injured cheek, just below the bandage his mother had finally managed to apply.  "How 'bout I lay down with you?"

"Sure," he muttered, yawning.  "Take what I can get," he added, slurring his words slightly.  Heather leaned over, pressing her lips to Jake's forehead.  "I don't have a fever," he grumbled.

"And, I wasn't checking for one," she replied, shaking her head at him.  Heather turned then, finding the travel alarm clock on the bedside table.  She set the alarm for two and a half hours, knowing very well that it would take Jake awhile to fall asleep, and then blew out the pillar candle, eliminating the only source of light in the room.  "Okay," she murmured, stretching out on her side next to Jake, facing him.  "Close your eyes," Heather added, whispering. 

She started to run her hand through his hair, massaging his scalp gently, earning a contented sigh and soft grin from Jake.  This was something her mother had always done for her, from her infancy through her teen years. 'Poor babying' Renate Lisinski had always called it, and whether Heather had been sick or upset, her mother's ministrations had soothed her every time, usually enough so she could fall asleep.  She continued her efforts for a few minutes, surprised but grateful when Jake didn't move or say anything.  Heather knew that he was coming down off the adrenaline high he'd been operating under for most of the day, and she was almost convinced that he had fallen asleep when she felt his hand skim down her front, and then slip beneath the edge of her blouse, coming to a rest on the slight bulge that was their child.

"Just checkin," he said, his voice a soft rumble in his chest.  Jake turned his head slightly, offering Heather a faint smile.  His eyes were bleary, and it took him a moment to focus.  "Everything okay?" he yawned.

"Don't worry, I'm still pregnant," she told him, chuckling.   Heather raised her head so she could brush her mouth over his.  "We're good, I promise," she sighed.

"Don't worry?" Jake repeated, snorting.  "Good luck with that."  Mitchell Cafferty was locked up for the moment, but Jake figured that there was plenty more left to worry about, not the least of which was Jonah Prowse, as Mitchell had reminded him earlier in the evening.  Leaving that issue aside, there were still the basics of food, water, and shelter to worry about.  Then there was Heather's health, and their baby's too.  April, as far as he could tell, was keeping the clinic running - barely - with spit and chewing gum, and quite possibly a secret deal with the devil.  Anything could go wrong.  "I'm gonna worry," he muttered.

"I told Emily today," Heather said quietly.  She stopped rubbing his head, moving her hand down to lay it over his.  "That I'm pregnant.  I told her."

"How'd that happen?" he asked quietly.

Her announcement seemed to wake Jake up, Heather realized.  Despite the darkness, she could see in his eyes, now locked with hers, that she had his full attention.  Heather sighed.  "I kinda had to," she complained.  "She asked if I was sick.  Apparently she thought I had some dread disease, what with Jimmy insisting on lifting everything for me, and Stanley practically ripping a bin out of my hands right in front of her."

"Good," Jake declared.  "You shouldn't have been lifting it anyway."

"Yeah, well, Emily asked if I had cancer or something, and I had to tell her I'm pregnant before Mimi did," Heather explained.  "She looked a little shocked.  But, she did congratulate me - us.  Took off after that."

"She was gonna find out soon enough," Jake reminded, stroking his hand over her belly.  "You weren't gonna hide this forever," he teased.

"True," Heather agreed, inching closer to Jake.  She laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, kissing the sleeve of his t-shirt before moving her head back to her pillow.

Jake didn't often think about the Thanksgiving when he was sixteen and a half, his junior year of high school, two months before his seventeenth birthday, but the memory suddenly hit him now.  Those three days, from that Wednesday night when Emily had first told him that her period was a week and a half late until Saturday morning when her mother had called his mother to let them know that she'd gotten it overnight, had been some of the longest days of his life.  Jake couldn't help but remember how mad he'd been at Emily; his self-centered sixteen year old self had blamed her for the entire situation.  It was that crisis, actually, that had kick started the 'break-up and make-up' cycle that Jake and Emily had fallen into the last few years of their dating relationship. 

The last thing he'd wanted then was to be a father, and it still amazed Jake how much he was looking forward to fatherhood now.  It scared him to death too, of course, especially under the current circumstances.  But whereas the mere suggestion that Emily might be pregnant had driven the first wedge between them, the clear evidence, just beneath his hand, of their baby growing inside Heather, thrilled Jake.  He turned onto his side and, cupping the back of her head with his hand, pressed a fierce kiss to her mouth.

"Jake," Heather complained, giggling softly, "You're supposed to be getting some sleep.  You need to rest," she told him, sitting up and then gently forcing him to lay down on his back.  "How else can I wake you up in two hours?"

"I'm tired," he admitted.  That last dose of Tylenol had taken the edge off the pain, but he still had a headache, and while he'd been drowsing a few minutes before, Jake was now awake again.  "Just can't get to sleep," he muttered, yawning.  "Here," he grumbled, pulling the cold pack from behind his head and handing it to Heather.  "It's used up."

"Okay," she agreed, accepting the offending item.  It was rather warm and mushy now, and not likely to do him any good.  "But, you know, I almost had you asleep before."  Heather placed the used cold pack on the bedside table, and then returned to massaging Jake's head, hoping to lull him to sleep.  "No talking," she whispered.  "Close your eyes."

Jake complied, his eyes fluttering closed, and he gave himself over to her touch.  It had been a hell of a day, and he snorted softly at the thought, prompting Heather to shush him gently.  Jake didn't have any regrets - that much he knew.  He wasn't happy about all that had happened today, but he wouldn't change anything that he had done, and he'd do it all again if need be.  "Love you," Jake breathed.  "And our baby."

Still stroking his head, Heather leaned over, kissing Jake on the forehead.  "I love you, too.  Sleep."

* * * * * * * * * *

The song that Heather loves and that they dance to is Amazed from the Lonestar album Lonely Grill.