Different Circumstances: Part 7A of ? by Marzee Doats
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Monday, October 30, five and a half weeks after the bombs
Heather looked up at the sound of her name. "Emily," she greeted, trying to cover her surprise. "What - can - hello," she decided finally, unable to come up with a question that didn't have a good chance of being misinterpreted.
"Hi," Emily returned, smiling tightly. "I heard that the Harvest Weekend was on - sort of - and I thought I could help." She looked back over her shoulder, pointing at the gaggle of older women gathered at 'command central' in front of the bank, and then turned back to face Heather. "Mrs. Thom suggested that I help you with the pumpkins?"
"Well, you know, I was abandoned," Heather admitted, smiling at Emily. "Jake and Eric helped me get everything here, and then they took off," She grumbled, shaking her head. "Official business or so they claimed." She paused for moment and then added, "Some help would be great."
Jericho had a long-standing tradition of a Harvest Weekend, always the first weekend in November, between Halloween and Veteran's Day. As with all purely social civic events in need of planning, the job of organizing the Harvest Weekend had fallen on the shoulders of Gail Green as a sort of miscellaneous duty of the mayor's wife. Gail had long ago developed a strong committee for the Weekend, and Heather had been drafted to that committee by her future mother-in-law her first year in Jericho. This year, they were combining the Harvest Weekend with a Halloween party for the kids, in lieu of trick-or-treating. With Gail tending Johnston at home, Mrs. Thom, the Greens' next door neighbor, and Heather had taken over the event.
"So, just putting pumpkins out?" Emily asked, as Heather pulled one from a commandeered shopping cart.
"Pretty much for now," Heather agreed, setting her pumpkin atop a hay bale. "Though there're still a million things to do. Mrs. Thom has the binder," she explained, referring to Gail Green's infamous collection of notes and to-do lists for every event on the Jericho town calendar. "And, we can't do half of what's in there," Heather admitted, making a frustrated noise. "I know throwing a party probably seems superficial -"
"I think it's what we all need," Emily interrupted, selecting a perfectly round pumpkin from the shopping cart. "So, anywhere?"
Heather chuckled and nodded. "If you see an empty spot, fill it with a pumpkin. At least it's a start."
The two women went to work in silence, working their way down Main Street, away from town hall. Emily surprised Heather again by sticking close, rather than taking one of the shopping carts and heading off on her own. "You know, I've always loved Halloween," Emily began after a few minutes. "Dressing up, especially," she grinned. "I can't tell you how many years I went as Cinderella," she joked, handing Heather a rather squat pumpkin. "Cinderella or Tinkerbell," Emily amended. "Cinderella's the better story, but Tinkerbell had wings and a wand."
"Tinkerbell has a wand?" Heather questioned, looking back at Emily over her shoulder. "I thought she just had pixie dust."
Emily expression was momentarily puzzled, but then she shrugged it off, giggling. "Well, now I don't know," she admitted. "But when I was Tinkerbell, I had a wand."
"Fair enough," Heather agreed, laughing along with Emily. "I always dressed up," she offered then, moving around Emily to retrieve yet another pumpkin. "But usually pretty standard stuff. I was Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz for two, maybe three years in a row. I was in a phase, and after my Mom made my costume, she wasn't going to let me off with wearing it just once, not after all the effort she'd put in, especially with the shoes!" She placed her pumpkin in an empty spot, and then turned it around, trying to find its best side.
"I made my little brother go as the Cowardly Lion, at least the first year," she continued. "He was two or three. Years before I even thought of moving to Kansas, obviously. And, I've still managed to avoid being in an actual tornado, knock on wood." Heather looked around, but didn't spot anything wooden with in reach. "Knock on straw?" she joked, looking at Emily.
"Knock on pumpkin," Emily suggested, holding a fat one out to Heather. "It's a vegetable, and a tree's a vegetable, sort of, right?"
"According to Gilbert and Sullivan, anyway," Heather agreed, tapping the pumpkin with her fist.
"Now, by the time we were, I don't know, eleven or twelve? Jake and I had Halloween down to a science," Emily said then, placing the fat pumpkin on a still bare bale of hay. "I was always the bag lady so I could stuff all of his costumes into my garbage bag. I think we hit the Stevens' house, like, seven times one year," she chuckled, smiling. Facing Heather, she held up a finger, admitting, "He did always share his haul with me."
Heather smiled at Emily in return. Admittedly, this should have been an awkward turn in the conversation, but they'd managed to keep things light so far, and Heather was bound and determined to keep it that way. "Like a little Bonnie and Clyde," she sighed. "That's adorable, and so Jake."
"Very," Emily nodded. They had emptied the first shopping cart, and so she pushed it out of the way, moving the other one closer before lifting a pumpkin out of the baby seat. She looked at the pumpkin and then at Heather. "This is an airplane, right?" Emily asked, pointing at the drawing on the pumpkin. "Why is there an airplane on the pumpkin?"
"Jake," Heather groaned and rolled her eyes. "We were all decorating last night, and unless you tell him 'you must draw a face,' he draws airplanes."
For years, the Richmond family had donated a quarter acre's worth of pumpkins to the town for the Harvest Weekend, a tradition that Stanley had continued to observe after his parents' deaths. He'd approached Gail while the town was helping harvest his corn and had reminded her that the pumpkins were ready for the taking. So, the night before, Stanley, Bonnie, and Mimi - apparently feeling more adverse to the idea of being left alone at the farm than she was to having to haul produce - had shown up at the Greens with a truckload of pumpkins. It had been Heather's idea to decorate them, and although everyone else had complained, when she'd hauled out the Sharpies, with the exception of Gail who'd headed upstairs to check on Johnston, they'd all sat down at the kitchen table and gone to work.
"I'm pretty sure he only did three before I caught him," Heather chuckled, shaking her head. "Just put it in the back somewhere that no one will see." She picked another pumpkin out of the shopping cart, looking it over. "Ah, four, I see. Though the stick-person pilot in the cockpit of this plane at least has a face," she observed, turning to hide the pumpkin behind a more traditionally drawn jack-o-lantern face.
"So, you did all of these last night?" Emily asked, sounding somewhat impressed, as she went through the basket. The first shopping cart had held unadorned pumpkins, but there were at least thirty decorated pumpkins in the second. "Too bad you couldn't carve 'em."
"We had help," Heather shrugged. "And, Stanley donated them to the town, so after tomorrow night they're free game for whoever wants to take 'em home to eat. Mimi made me give him a receipt," she laughed. "Said it was a charitable donation, and he should've been deducting it on his taxes all along. She's actually going to refigure his taxes based on seven years of pumpkin donations."
"Now that's funny," Emily declared, hefting the biggest pumpkin she'd found yet. "Doesn't he owe like a hundred K?"
"I don't know. Something like that," Heather acknowledged.
Emily carried her pumpkin to an open hay bale and set it down, taking her first good look at it. "Is this supposed to be Charlie Brown?"
Heather studied the drawing for a moment. "I think so," she agreed, chuckling. "That was Eric, or maybe April, I'm not sure. And, only because Stanley - who has apparently memorized It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! in its entirety - insisted on telling us the whole story, complete with sound effects. Really hilarious, act - actually." She stopped then, realizing belatedly that she'd lost Emily's attention.
"Oh my God," Emily muttered, staring at a man who had just climbed out on a dark brown El Camino that had definitely seen better days.
"What? What is it?" Heather demanded, moving to stand next to her.
But Emily, her hand pressed against her mouth, didn't answer. She didn't even seem to hear.
* * * * *
The El Camino pulled to a stop at the corner of Main and Spruce, drawing Jake's attention away from Heather and Emily. He didn't recognize the car, and he was beginning to recognize all the cars that were in town with any regularity. The door opened and a man climbed out. Jonah Prowse, Jake identified immediately, sitting up and then forward in his chair. He bit back a curse, and glanced at his brother, checking to see if Eric had noticed his reaction. He hadn't. Jake took a deep breath, and then stood up, muttering, "Look, I gotta go."
"Everything okay?" Eric asked, frowning. "Heather okay?"
"Yeah," Jake assured, heading for the door. He was surprised that Eric had realized he'd been keeping tabs on his wife, though he supposed stationing himself next to window was a little bit obvious. "She's fine," he said. "I just forgot somethin' I was supposed to take care of."
It had been four days since they had arrested Mitchell Cafferty, and Jake had expected Jonah Prowse to show up sooner or later, though he hadn't expected to witness the other man's arrival. Still, he told himself, it might make this whole thing go easier.
Of course, Jake had known that Jonah wouldn't come the first day. He'd studied Jonah's organization, inside and out, for nearly two years, and he knew it better than almost anyone. He doubted much had changed inside West Kansas Shipping and Freight, especially since Jonah had been out of circulation for nearly five years. His 'company' had always operated rather fluidly anyway, and most of his men - Mitchell Cafferty included, amazingly enough - had girlfriends or wives or at least women who'd let them crash in their beds for a few days. Once Mitchell - or rather his accomplices - had delivered the food they'd stolen from the barn, Jake figured it would have taken Jonah a few days to notice Mitchell's absence, and he doubted anyone else would have been too eager to point it out either.
But now Jonah was here, and he'd come alone. He usually didn't do his own dirty work, Jake knew, remembering that last night he'd been undercover, the night Jonah had sent five of his goons to do their worst, and they'd almost killed him. Jake took that he'd come alone to mean he wanted to talk - that, or this was a scouting mission - but he also knew that the only way to find out for sure was to engage.
Jake left his father's office - currently being utilized by Eric in his capacity as acting mayor - and headed down the stairs, skimming his hand along the banister, working to stay as quiet as possible. He entered the sheriff's station to find Jonah staring down Bill Kilroy, who looked like he was about to wet himself. "... bail for a friend of mine," Jake heard, catching only the tail end of Jonah's statement. "Mitchell Cafferty."
"Hello, Jonah," Jake said quietly then. He nodded at Bill almost imperceptibly, granting the deputy's dearest wish at the moment; Bill was more than happy to retreat into a back room.
Jonah glanced at Jake, staring at him coldly, and for a long while before finally turning to face him. "Jake," he muttered. "So how's that ankle? All better now?" All Jake would grant him though was a slight nod and a hard blink in response. Jonah's expression tightened and he continued. "So, I understand that Mitchell's been causin' some trouble."
"Aw, c'mon, don't act surprised," Jake returned, betraying more of his own surprise than he'd intended to. He paused, reminding himself that it was up to him to handle this; Bill was too scared, not to mention that he wasn't smart enough to know when he was in over his head; Jimmy was too nice, and he did know when he was in over his head; and Eric was too much of a bureaucrat to have any success at handling Jonah Prowse. His father, his grandfather, they could have dealt with Jonah, but they weren't here. This afternoon it was up to Jake. "He doesn't get out of bed in the morning without runnin' it by you first," he sneered.
"I'm not sure that's true," Jonah dissented with a slight frown. "But I'm here to bail him out."
"All right then," Jake agreed, shrugging. "Let's talk bail."
It had taken Jake most of three days to calm down and realize that, while stringing Mitchell Cafferty up would assuage his craving for revenge, it wouldn't serve to solve any of the other problems starting to press in on Jericho. Most families had run completely out of food, and people were starting to notice that the shelves at Gracie's, which had been reasonably well-stocked for the last month, were suddenly bare. Men were getting into fistfights over a gallon of gas. They were five weeks into this mess and reality was starting to bite them all in the ass. Jake wanted Mitchell Cafferty dead, but if it was worth something to Jonah to keep him alive, Jake figured he'd negotiate. "First, you're gonna give back the food you stole," he announced.
"Now hold on a second," Jonah interrupted, his voice dropping so low that if there had been anyone near enough to eavesdrop they would have been out of luck. "I'm not sure you've noticed, but the world's comin' apart at the seams. What belongs to who is gettin' to be a fuzzy science," he argued. "It's not like it was, back when you had arrest warrants and wire taps to hide behind. You're not Federal Agent Green anymore," he drawled, his tone mocking. "But I'll see what I can do."
"You're gonna stay away from this place," Jake ground out then, otherwise ignoring Jonah's taunt. He pointed a finger at Jonah, almost but not quite poking him in the chest. "Not just you. Mitch. Joe Kelly -"
"Since when are you in a position to speak for this town?" Jonah demanded. "I always thought your brother was daddy's little yes man," he chuckled meanly, "Not you. Though, I suppose you are without a boss these days. Lived in Denver, didn't she?"
"Do we have a deal?" Jake returned, raising his voice.
Mitchell Cafferty had been singing She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain for most of the last two days. He still was, and he was getting more off-key and louder. "Shut up, Mitchell!" Jonah bellowed, looking more annoyed than any of them who'd been putting up with Mitchell had admitted to being. Jonah looked at Jake. "We have a deal," he agreed.
They didn't shake hands.
Jake didn't trust Jonah even as far as he could throw him, and so he walked Jonah out, intending to get him back to his car and out of Jericho without involving anyone else. People had already seen Jonah, so it would be impossible to keep his appearance in town quiet, but Jake figured he could mitigate the affects of Jonah's presence by hustling him along. There were plenty of people who knew Jonah through his former business dealings or simply by reputation, but Jake was mainly thinking of Emily, the only person in Jericho who knew Jonah better than him; the only person in Jericho who hated Jonah more than him. For Emily's sake, Jake figured he'd better run a little interference.
Stepping out into the street, Jake quickly surveyed the activity surrounding the preparation for the Halloween party and Harvest Weekend. Automatically, he looked around for Heather, spotting her chatting with Mrs. Thom and Mrs. Crenshaw, the three of them pouring over his mother's binder, double-checking the to-do list. Next he looked for Emily, finally locating her hovering over a hay bale, rearranging pumpkins, her back to them. Jonah, if he noticed his daughter, didn't say a thing, and he didn't react. Jake breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"The world's changin'," Jake said as he and Jonah stepped off the curb.
"Don't I know it," Jonah answered, shaking his head. "There's not a lot of work for a guy haulin' freight these days," he added, glancing sideways at Jake, 'Dare ya' written in his smirk. "The old side business has sorta become a full time gig."
Stopping next to Jonah's car, Jake offered him a sour smile. "The world's changing," he repeated. "And, I'm not Federal Agent Green anymore," he said. "But, I live in this town. My family lives in this town." Jake held up a hand, forestalling Jonah's interruption. "I want your word," he demanded, thinking to himself, 'for what little it's worth'. "You and your guys are gonna stay away from town."
"Already said I would," Jonah glowered at Jake, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Ask again, a guy might think you're callin' him a liar," he warned.
"Nice car," Jake drawled, tapping the front license plate with the toe of his boot. The vanity plate read 'BOBNLOU'. "So who're you? Bob or Lou?"
"There's a lotta good stuff out on the roads, waitin' for anybody to take it," Jonah explained without apology. "Bob and Lou," he shrugged, opening the car's door, "They're long gone." With that, he slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine. A few seconds later, Jonah peeled away from the corner, narrowly missing Jake, who couldn't help but notice the sickly, satisfied grin Jonah shot him when he was forced to take a step back to safety.
Shaking his head, Jake turned around, heading in the general direction of town hall. He'd made it two steps before a very angry Emily Sullivan appeared, blocking his path. "Emily," he greeted tiredly.
Pulling herself up to her full height, her hands fisted in the pockets of her jean jacket, she glared at Jake, getting up into his face. "Why're you talkin' to him?" Emily questioned angrily.
"It's okay, all right?" Jake assured her quietly, taking a half-step back. "It didn't have anything to do with you."
"It's my father," Emily reminded, moving again so that her face was mere inches from his as she rebuked him. "It has everything to do with me." With that, she turned on her heel, and stifling a sob, hurried back across the street, heading for the meager shelter offered by the entrance to Gracie's Market. Jake followed.
"You have no idea how bad it got. Once he earned some privileges, he was calling all the time, every phone call he earned. Writing letters, three a week," Emily catalogued, her voice cracking. "I couldn't go more than a day or two without something, some intrusion into my life from Jonah. He wanted me - wanted me to forgive him for what happened with Chris." She started to cry at the mention of her brother, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I'll never forgive him for what happened to Chris," Emily vowed, shaking her head. "And now he's out, he's back -"
"He's not back, all right? After tomorrow, he's done. He's gone," Jake promised her. Emily closed her eyes, covering her face with her hand. "Look, Em," he continued, sighing, "If there's - if there's one thing you and I still have in common, it's how we feel about Jonah," Jake muttered, clenching his jaw. "Do you really think I'm gonna let him or his goons come into this town? You think I'd let him anywhere near my family?" he demanded, running a hand through his hair. "No way in hell."
Emily opened her eyes and studied Jake, her expression full of distrust. "There's no way you can be sure. Not with Jonah."
"Look, I'm tellin' you, it doesn't involve you," he repeated. "Jonah's got things we need. We've got Mitchell Cafferty. It's just business."
"It's never just business with him," she countered, looking away.
"Fine," Jake grumbled under his breath, stepping away and starting to turn. He stopped only when she said his name.
"Jake. Don't go," Emily requested, moving toward him and laying a hand on his arm. "Okay," she murmured, frowning softly. "Okay. Just do what you have to with Jonah and - whatever." She took a deep breath, and then threw him a reasonably genuine if watery smile. "Heather - Heather told me about the baby. That's great," Emily sniffed. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," he acknowledged, his grin suddenly unfettered. "Little weird to think about sometimes," he chuckled, shrugging. "Me as a dad?" he joked. "You can say it. Sounds crazy, huh? But I'm - I can't wait, actually."
"It's great, really," Emily smiled gently in return. "And, you know, with you as a dad, he'll always have someone to play with," she teased, "So that's good. Plus, you know, you gotta be better at it than Jonah."
"God, set the bar high, why doncha," Jake snorted, rolling his eyes.
Emily laughed, her smile widening slightly. "Yeah, well..." she sighed. "You'll do good. I'm happy for you," she told him, squeezing his arm gently and then removing her hand. "For the both of you."
He nodded. "Thanks."
They both turned away then, heading in opposite directions. Jake crossed the street and came up behind Heather, who was still in conference with Mrs. Thom and Mrs. Crenshaw. He wrapped his arms around her, resting one hand on the still small mound of her pregnant belly and his chin on her shoulder. "'Hey, babe," Jake murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. Catching first Mrs. Crenshaw's eye, and then Mrs. Thom's, he winked at them, earning himself two delighted smiles.
Jake had felt Heather tense the moment he'd touched her, and it took her a few seconds to relax after she realized it was him. "Jake Green, you are so lucky you're not layin' on the ground with another concussion," Heather grumbled, turning her head so she could glare up at him.
"You see what I have to put up with?" Jake asked jokingly, kissing the side of Heather's head once she'd turned back to face the other two women. "Such abuse."
"Poor baby," Mrs. Thom teased, laughing. "Somethin' tells me you'll survive."
"Something tells me, he loves every bit of it," Mrs. Crenshaw added, chuckling. "Coming to steal your wife away from us old biddies, have you?"
"I don't see any old biddies," Jake argued. "And, this is a just a fly-by." He let go of Heather, finding her hand with his own, and then squeezing it. "I need to go talk with Eric," he explained. "Then though, you can bet I'm gonna try and steal my wife back," he informed them, winking again.
This time though, there were no smiles. "Thought that was Jonah Prowse," Mrs. Crenshaw muttered.
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, frowning. "Sure was." Heather had turned around, a number of questions obviously queued up and ready to tumble forth from her. Jake shook his head 'no', and then kissed her quickly. "Be right back," he promised.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, October 25, five years before the bombs
Emily Sullivan looked up from digging through her purse for her keys, and stopped short. She'd just exited the Jericho High School gymnasium, heading for her car, only to glance up to see a sight that took her back in time ten years. Jake Green's car was parked next to hers, and he half-stood, half-leaned against the hood, arms folded together, waiting, she had to assume, for her. He was watching her, too, Emily knew, despite the fact that he was unnaturally still - it had always annoyed her that Jake could do that - and wearing dark sunglasses. She could tell from his stance, the set of his jaw, that he was watching her.
Squaring her shoulders, Emily stalked the forty feet across the parking lot to where Jake waited. It was nearly five, and most of the other cars were gone from the small parking area behind the gym. Certainly, there was no one else around outside, though she knew that Coach Bauer still had the football team in the boys' locker room going over the playbook for the next evening's game. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, coming to a stop a cautious two feet away from Jake.
"Need to talk to you," Jake muttered, offering her an obviously false smile. He reached up, pulling off his baseball cap, running a quick hand through his hair, before putting it back on. "It's kinda like old times," he joked sourly, kicking at the blacktop with one well-worn work boot. "Here I am, once again, waiting for you to get out of cheerleading practice so we can have a big fight."
Anger flashed in Emily's eyes, and she took a step in the direction of her car. "Let's not, and say we did," she muttered.
"No, sorry," Jake denied, stepping sideways to block her path. She hadn't anticipated his move, and so she stepped forward almost running into the solid wall, dressed in a black t-shirt and blue jeans, that was Jake Green. "Whatever your problem with me, Emily, leave Heather out of it," he commanded as she took a skittering step back. "Stay away from her."
Emily blinked hard, once, and then crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Jake's posture. "She told you."
"Of course she told me," Jake ground out. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to think before he spoke. He wouldn't give Emily the satisfaction of revealing just how much she'd upset Heather. "Did she have a choice?" Jake asked, not waiting for an answer. "It's not like I wasn't gonna hear about it, somehow."
Jake had woken up Tuesday morning in Denver to an email from his sister-in-law, advising him that he needed to do something about Emily, pronto. He'd realized that her message had just come in and that she was still online, and so they'd ended up IMing for twenty minutes before Jake had had to run, late for his meeting with the federal prosecutors. April had taken him to task for not settling things with Emily earlier, and then had told him that he'd better not screw things up with Heather - or let Emily screw things up with Heather for him. 'We all like her, Jake,' April had typed, 'And, if you mess this up, I may just choose her over you. ;-)'
Sitting in his hotel room, half-dressed, Jake had caught himself chuckling humorlessly at her threat. 'Yeah, you and Gramps both,' he'd messaged back. 'I'll take care of it. Don't worry.' Now, he was keeping that promise.
"April'd heard what you did within two hours, so you know that my Mom heard before that," Jake informed her. "The whole damn town knows, Emily, so you don't get to act all indignant because Heather told me what you did."
She faced him, open-mouthed for just a second before protesting squeakily, "Jake, there are two sides -"
"And, what exactly is the positive, uplifting side of bad-mouthing me to my girlfriend?" he snapped, cutting her off. "Where she works, I might add. Not to mention trying to embarrass her in front of her boss? Go ahead, Em. Spin that," Jake challenged. "Make it right."
Emily, obviously flustered, flinched at the biting sarcasm in his voice. It took her a long moment to pull herself together, especially under the heat of Jake's withering gaze. "So now you're Heather's white knight, huh?" she asked, her tone derisive. She hugged herself then and, chin jutting out, raised her eyes to meet Jake's. "Here to slay the ex-girlfriend dragon? How very noble of you." Emily took a deep, calming breath, forcing herself to speak calmly. "I know you don't believe this, Jake," she began again, "But I went to Heather out of concern. As a friend -"
Jake snorted contemptuously. "A friend? Trust me, Heather doesn't need you for a friend. She's got plenty of real friends, plenty of people who care about her. You have no reason to be concerned," he declared. "Stay away from her."
"No reason to be concerned?" Emily questioned, raising her voice. "She's gonna get hurt," she insisted. "Heather's so far out of your league ... it'd be funny if it weren't so tragic," she muttered, shaking her head. "Heather and I, we went to this class together, and we talked - a lot. I didn't think they made people like Heather anymore. She's - she's wholesome," Emily argued, gesturing wildly. "Like Little House on the Prairie wholesome. And you, Jake - you're you."
He watched her, not responding for a long moment. Emily, having spoken her peace - or really, Jake couldn't help but think, having shot her wad - seemed to deflate a little right before his eyes. Jake caught himself grinning. Heather actually was wholesome, he acknowledged to himself, but she was also so much more, and the fact that Emily thought she could be summed up in one word, wielded like an insult, just proved that she didn't know one thing about Heather Lisinski. "You know what?" he asked rhetorically, his smile widening, "Wholesome's really workin' for me."
Her expression clouded over for just a few seconds, but then she shrugged it off. "Fine," Emily muttered. "Whatever you say, Jake. Though we both know you'll be bored to tears in a month," she predicted, taking a step back. She shook her head at him, smiling grimly. "'Cause you need excitement, and you are not gonna get that from her."
"You just let me worry about what I find exciting," Jake told Emily. It was a valid indictment, however; the best Emily had come up with so far. After all, she was the one who'd listened to all his complaints about how boring Jericho was, how nothing ever happened in Jericho, and how he couldn't wait to leave. But, what Emily didn't know, the problem with her accusation, was that Jake found nearly everything about Heather - from the fact that she could discuss almost any subject competently and enthusiastically, to her invariably passionate response to his every touch and kiss - to be exciting.
"How is this your business, anyway?" Jake demanded then, refocusing his attention on Emily. "And, if you're talkin' about the danger quotient, well, I get enough of that at work these days," he reminded. "I don't need that in my personal life, too. Besides," he continued, "This isn't a debate. You don't get a say anymore, Emily. I - I care about Heather, and we're together. That's just the way it is. And, you need to stay away from her," he repeated.
"Fine. No problem." Emily's words were clipped, coming out in short, annoyed breaths. "Trust me, I've wasted all the time I plan to on Heather," she assured him, starting to inch toward her car again. "Go. Go spend all your time with little Miss Wholesome Goodness," Emily ordered, rolling her eyes and waving a hand that said she was through with him. "I'm sure you'll both be very happy together," she added in a tone that clearly implied that she thought nothing of the sort.
Jake nodded, more than happy to let her go. In the old days, when they'd had a fight in the school parking lot, he'd still had to drive her home. This evening Jake was just grateful that Emily now had her own car. He didn't know if he believed her when she said she'd leave Heather alone, but decided he would take her word for now.
"I know it'd probably make you happy if I just disappeared, and you never saw me again," he began. Emily stopped, her car door open, and looked back over her shoulder at him, her expression pained. "But that's not gonna happen. Sorry," Jake muttered in apology, throwing her something that was in between a frown and a grin. "You need to move on," he advised, "Just like I needed to move on. And, you can hate me all you need to, Em, but leave Heather out of it."
She closed her car door and turned around, already protesting what he'd said. However, Jake wasn't interested in round two, and besides, Emily had gotten the last word when they'd done this last, at her brother's funeral. "That's it Em, no more," he interrupted tiredly. Jake took a step back. "I'm gonna go spend the evening with my girlfriend," he told her, turning toward his car. "See ya around."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tuesday, October 31, six weeks after the bombs
"Are you outta your mind?" Gray Anderson demanded, "You made a deal with Jonah Prowse?"
Jake leaned back against the office window, closing his eyes. April had pronounced him concussion free the previous day, and he'd finally gotten a reasonably good night's sleep the night before. He loved Heather, truly more than his own life, but he couldn't help feeling that if she was going to wake him up in the middle of the night, then he preferred it be for reasons other than asking him to solve a math problem or demanding that he tell her who'd won last year's World Series. Four nights of getting up every two hours had been more than enough for Jake's taste. Heather's half-teasing argument that it was good practice for their impending future had only made him groan. And now, the headache he thought he'd put behind him was starting to return.
"Yeah," Jake muttered, pressing his thumb and index fingers against his eyes, and the pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mitch for the food, and Jonah stays outta Jericho."
He couldn't help but wonder what he'd walked into, what Gray Anderson was doing here. Jake had slept in some that morning, and Eric had been gone by the time he'd made it downstairs. He'd arrived at town hall intending to hold a short conference with his brother, Jimmy, and Bill before heading out to meet Jonah, but instead he'd walked in on this rather suspicious meeting. Jake glanced around the room, taking in the uncomfortable expression on Jimmy's face, the perpetually irritated look on Bill's, Eric's sheepish frown. His gaze finally settled on Gray. "Why?"
"Because you can't make deals with guys like that!" Gray protested angrily, lurching out of his seat.
"Wait a minute! We talked about this," Jake argued, glaring at his father's political rival. He had a sudden, new found respect for all that Johnston had to deal with as mayor. Jake looked at his brother. "We - we agreed!"
Gray, frowning, had shaken his head throughout Jake's statement. "Look," he muttered, pressing his lips together, "I know Prowse. He hauled materials for Stevens before I came into the mine. He - he was stealin' five percent off the top, intimidatin' suppliers," he sputtered. "This guy did four years at Lansing for extortion and assault," Gray reminded, throwing his hands up in disgust. "And you wanna negotiate with that guy."
"He's got a good point, Jake," Eric murmured.
"Really?" Jake questioned, one eyebrow raised. He took two steps into the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest. "You know Jonah, do you Gray?" he demanded then, throwing the other man a pointed look. "Well, I wrote the federal case file on Jonah Prowse. I practically lived in his head for two years. And, he spent five years in federal prison because of my testimony. My work. I know exactly who he is," Jake assured, "Who I'm dealing with."
"And, maybe you're just a little too close to the situation," Gray suggested, dropping back into his chair.
Jake let out a strangled noise, and turned to face Eric, squinting. "What happened to clearing this with Dad?" he demanded.
"No disrespect to your father," Gray drawled, "But he hasn't been out there. Neither have you. I've seen what happens when people lose their hold on law and order." He seemed to puff up with self-importance as he continued. "You start strikin' bargains with the bad guys," Gray complained, practically shouting, "It's the beginning of the end."
"Where the hell do you think we are now?" Jimmy muttered, throwing Jake a supportive look, which earned him an annoyed glare from Bill. "Jake's got a point, too." He glanced at Gray and Eric, frowning. "At least that's what I think."
"None of you've been out there," Gray repeated, his tone harsh. "I have!"
"Just calm down!" Jake ordered, yelling. He paused, taking a deep breath. "All right, here it is. We need food more than we need to keep Mitch Cafferty," he reasoned. "Now, I'm supposed to make a trade with Jonah in an hour. If I go out there empty-handed, I don't know what he's gonna do," Jake warned.
"Doesn't matter," Gray countered stubbornly. He leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out straight in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. "Because he'll know that we won't roll over for him."
Jake let out a frustrated breath, turning away for a moment, his jaw and his fist clenched. He wanted nothing more than to hit something, the wall or - better yet - Gray Anderson, self-proclaimed expert on the world outside of Jericho. True, he'd brought back news and information that they had needed, but that didn't prevent him from being short-sighted now.
"Look, Jake. We either hold this territory or we don't," Gray reasoned, sounding, at least to Jake, like the smarmy politician he longed to be.
"Eric," Jake prompted his brother, hoping, but not really expecting that Eric would come to the right decision.
Eyes downcast, Eric took a long moment to answer. Finally, he glanced quickly at Jake, but then his gaze settled on Gray. Jake knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Gray's right."
"'Kay, Eric," Jake growled, grinding his clenched fist against his thigh. "But you just remember, in a couple of months, when it's been three or four days since you last ate, that you were the swing vote." He shook his head, allowing an irate chuckle. "You think I don't know that dealing with Jonah is gettin' in bed with the devil? But you keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," Jake reminded. "And, if you think crossin' Jonah's gonna make us safer," he finished, staring down at Gray, "Well then, you're an idiot."
"Jake -"
""What's it gonna be, Eric?" Jake demanded then, cutting his brother off.
Eric opened his mouth but then closed it again without saying anything. His expression was confused, conflicted. He looked at Gray for a second, and then turned back to face his brother. "I - Jake - I - I can't authorize Mitchell Cafferty's release," he stammered. "I can't."
"Okay," Jake nodded. His lips were pressed into a grim line. "That's it then." He turned toward the door. "I've got a meeting."
* * * * *
Chuckling, Jake looked around at the crowd. He was having a good time despite, as Heather had complained a half hour earlier, his every intention not to. Jake hadn't wanted to come to the Halloween party, hadn't really wanted to be around people, but Heather had to attend, and he hadn't been about to let her go alone, and so, grumbling the whole way, he'd come along.
They hadn't been there very long before he had drifted into a conversation with Derek Hyde who, along with his father, ran the larger of the two dairies in Jericho. Derek had been a year ahead of Jake in school, and they'd played on the baseball team together. They had always been friendly, if not actually friends, and so it hadn't been a complete surprise when Derek had joined Jake on the sidelines while his daughters had lined up for the bean bag toss being supervised at the time by Heather.
"Jake, good to see ya," Derek had greeted, offering Jake his hand. "I hear congratulations are in order," he'd added, nodding in Heather's direction.
"Thanks," Jake had sighed, grinning softly. As far as he could tell, half the citizens of Jericho had become aware of Heather's pregnancy in the preceding week; Derek's good wishes weren't even the first he'd received during the party. They had reminisced some after that, and then they'd both coached Amy and Katie Hyde - often giving conflicting advice - through their turns at the game. The girls had won plastic spider rings which they'd proudly shown off to their dad and his friend before eventually wandering off to bob for apples. Derek's wife, Stephanie, had followed the girls, depositing their youngest, two year-old Matthew, in her husband's arms. "A future third baseman for Jericho High?" Jake had inquired, smiling at the little boy.
"Maybe, we'll see," Derek had shrugged. "Amy's gotta an arm like yours," he'd claimed proudly. "We were gonna start her in a girl's softball league in the spring. Though, right now," Derek had admitted, shaking his head, "I'll settle for gettin' 'em all through the winter, safe and healthy. We're covered for food, I guess. Turns out it's a pain in the butt," he'd continued with a quick glance down at his son, "To milk nearly two hundred cows by hand. We've reduced that to about thirty - let the others dry up - and half the milk's still goin' to waste. We don't really have the feed to get the whole herd through the winter either, so now Dad and I are tryin' to put together a plan." Derek had looked at Jake. "Dairy cows aren't really good eating, but we'll probably have some extra at the end of the week if you're interested."
"Can't really pay you for it," Jake had countered, "Unless you need a horse."
"We've been tradin' milk for fuel the last month," Derek had explained over his shoulder. He'd walked to the sidewalk, Jake following, and had deposited Matthew atop a bale of hay so the little boy could toddle back and forth on it. "But nobody has any to spare anymore. A horse or two might be a good idea. Seems ridiculous to let everything go to waste when there're people in town who could use it, but if I can't get it to town...."
"Yeah," Jake had agreed, "We're tryin' to figure all that out. It's just slow goin'," he'd admitted with a frown.
Derek had nodded in acknowledgement, if not understanding. "Yeah. Well, we'll do what we can, but I gotta worry about my own kids first," he'd reminded, picking up Matthew and waving at someone behind Jake.
After that, they had been joined by three other former teammates, all of whom had offspring at the party that they tried to keep track of while participating in a conversation about the Jericho High baseball team's run at the championship Jake's junior year. They were all snickering at Bryant Jackson's claim that a gust of wind had robbed him of a home run in the fifth inning of the last game, and Derek, in between snorts of laughter, had managed to choke out "Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," when Jake looked up, his own chuckle dying on his lips.
"Aw, shit," he muttered, his mind still processing what he saw happening before him. Mitchell Cafferty, accompanied by Joe Kelly and Randy Brauner - two of Jonah's more loyal goons - were sprinting away from town hall, and Gray Anderson, armed with a shotgun, was in hot pursuit. Jake's first instinct, which he followed, was to glance behind and verify that Heather was safe and okay. His second instinct was to take off after the others.
Jake had been at a dead stop, and he realized quickly that he was not going to catch up with Mitchell or his accomplices. All he could hope for was to catch up with Gray and keep him from doing anything stupid - anything stupid like shooting after Mitchell in the pitch dark of downtown Jericho when there were at least a hundred children and nearly as many parents out in the streets. Jake did the only thing he could think to do, and tackled Gray, shouting at him to stop.
Gray quickly wrestled himself loose of Jake, wheeling around on the younger man. "What!" he shouted, glaring daggers at Jake. "You're letting them go!"
"Instead of what?" Jake demanded in return, equally furious. "Starting a firefight on Main Street?"
"I gotta go after 'em," Gray decided, wild-eyed, turning away.
Jake grabbed a fistful of his shirt, forcing him to remain in place, though Gray struggled to get away. "Are you outta your mind?" he barked.
"This has gotta be answered, Jake!" Gray yelled, wrenching himself free. "What? You're gonna turn the other cheek?" he accused snidely. "How long before you think these guys are back?"
"Look," he replied, taking a quick breath, "I can talk to Jonah." Jake didn't know if that was true, especially now that Jonah had Mitchell back, and therefore no real reason not to shoot Jake on sight, but he knew he had to try.
"You can talk to Jonah," Gray mocked, rolling his eyes. "You need to find him -"
"He lived up to his end of the deal!" Jake shouted over Gray.
Gray, panting, leaned back against the side wall of one of the booths that had been erected for the party. "Why the hell are you protectin' this guy?" he questioned, still trying to catch his breath.
"I'm protecting this town," Jake snarled, throwing his hands up in the air. He twisted around, pointing at the skittish crowd behind them. The atmosphere had completely changed; frantic parents gathered their children to them, and a small group had formed a half-circle around Jake and Gray about twenty feet away. "I'm protecting those people, those kids!" He turned back to face Gray, glaring. "And, Jonah, he can get things we're gonna need," Jake said.
"What can he get?" Gray yelled, grimacing angrily.
"He can get food! He can get gas! He can get ammo!" Jake catalogued, shouting in return. "Could you get that stuff if we needed it tomorrow?" he challenged, taking a step towards Gray, who looked away, annoyed. "Could you?" Jake repeated, "Because he can." With that, Jake wrenched the shotgun out of Gray's grip. "We do this my way now," he declared, spinning around and marching away without a look back.
Jake walked through a knot of people who eyed him nervously. He pasted a grim smile on his face, and pushed his way through the crowd, looking for Heather. He found her standing with Emily and the Hydes. "Derek, you probably wanna get your family home, just to be safe," Jake advised.
"Yeah, good idea," Derek nodded. He pulled his daughters closer, tucking one under each arm, and then glanced at his wife. "Thanks," he sighed, letting go of Amy, the older girl, long enough to shake hands. "Nice catchin' up with you, Jake. And, congratulations. You too, Mrs. Green," Derek added, gesturing at the hand Heather had resting on her pregnant belly.
"Thank you," she murmured, adding, "And, please, call me Heather." She glanced at Stephanie, including her in the invitation. "After all, I'm not Amy's teacher anymore."
"Well, I wish you were," Stephanie Hyde replied, her gaze settling on her older daughter. "Amy really does miss school." She let out a long breath. "Okay girls. Say good night to Mr. and Mrs. Green," she instructed, hefting her son on her hip. "We're going home now."
Amy and Katie, their eyes wide, did as their mother bid them, offering their goodbyes quickly. Heather, after glancing around at the dissipating crowd, reached into her basket, and then handed each girl a fistful of candy. "Happy Halloween, Amy, Katie. Just make sure you share some of that with your brother and your parents," she instructed, forcing a smile.
"Dad gets all the Mounds and Almond Joys," Amy explained, already seeming to recover from the tension that had all of the adults tied in knots.
"Yeah," Katie confirmed, making a face. "Those are so gross."
"You've heard of the cookie monster," Derek joked, resting his hands protectively on top of his girls' heads. "Well, they call me the coconut monster."
Heather looked down, searching the basket quickly. She pulled out two mini Mounds bars and handed them to him. "'Here you go, coconut monster," she grinned.
"Thanks," he replied, dropping the candy in his shirt pocket. "Okay, let's go," Derek declared, clapping his hands together. The Hydes gathered their children up and hurried down the street to where their car was parked.
"You okay, babe?" Jake asked, looking at his wife. Heather nodded and, after pulling off her witch's hat, moved next to him, slipping under his arm. Jake held her close against his side. He glanced at Emily, who had a pained look on her face. "Em?" he prompted. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Emily confirmed, inhaling sharply. "What was all that?"
"Jail break," he muttered, looking up to acknowledge Bill and Jimmy, who practically tripped over one another in their rush to join the other three. "How the hell did this happen, Bill?" Jake demanded, glaring at the deputy.
"They came into the station! They had guns!" Bill defended himself, holding his hands up protectively. "They forced me to let Mitchell out, and locked me in his cell. I knew that Gray was in interview one," he continued in a rush of breath. "He's been using -"
"Wait a minute," Jake interrupted, looking back and forth between Bill and Jimmy, who both avoided his gaze by looking down at the ground, their hands stuffed in their pockets. "Gray Anderson has an office at town hall now?" he questioned, exasperation coloring his tone. "Well, that's just great!"
"What do we do now, Jake?" Jimmy asked after a few uncomfortable seconds.
Jake shook his head, allowing his eyes to fall closed for a moment. "I don't know what you do now, Jimmy," he muttered. "All I know is I'm on the clean-up crew, right?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of Heather's head. She nodded in confirmation. Jake caught Jimmy's eye. "So, that's what I'm gonna do. Here," he added, handing the shotgun he'd confiscated from Gray over to Jimmy. "I'm guessin' Gray grabbed this out of the open gun safe? You may wanna rethink that particular procedure."
Heather put Jake to work picking up garbage, while she and Emily loaded pumpkins into shopping carts. The pumpkins would go back to town hall and then be distributed to whoever needed them in the morning. Collecting litter, it turned out, suited Jake's mood; it was somewhat physical and nobody cared if he was a little rough with the trash. He'd pulled all the bags out of the public garbage cans and was tying off the last one when his brother jogged up to him.
"What the hell happened, Jake?" Eric demanded.
Jake dropped the trash bag on the pile and glanced over his shoulder at Eric. "Nice of you to show up finally," he muttered.
"What, I went over to Bailey's to get a drink," Eric argued. "I'm allowed!"
"Sure," Jake shrugged. "And, while you were getting a drink and whatever else," he drawled, "Joe Kelly and Randy Brauner busted Mitchell Cafferty outta your jail."
"You saw them?" Eric's tone was incredulous. "Why didn't you try and stop 'em?"
Rolling his eyes, Jake grabbed two garbage bags off the pile. "Well, since I didn't see them until they were halfway down Main Street, and shooting at them in a crowd of children didn't strike me as a viable option, I wasn't left with much to do."
Heather joined them then, her expression guarded. "Hey, Eric," she greeted, eliciting a distracted nod from her brother-in-law.
"So what now?" Eric questioned quietly.
Jake ignored his brother and glanced at his wife. "Where do I put the trash?" he asked, holding up one bag and then gesturing at the pile he'd made in the gutter.
"The dumpster behind town hall?" she guessed, looking back and forth between the Green brothers. "That's all right, isn't it, Eric?"
"Sure," he nodded. "I'll get someone to haul everything out to the dump tomorrow."
"Can't even do that yourself, huh, Eric?" Jake grumbled, throwing his brother a look of eloquent exasperation. "Are you really that adverse to getting your hands a little dirty these days?" he demanded. He didn't wait for Eric's answer, stepping out into the street, heading for town hall, two garbage bags in tow.
Eric looked at Heather who simply crossed her arms and stared back at him. Emitting an annoyed sound, he grabbed two more trash bags and followed Jake, jogging to catch up. They were behind the building, tossing the trash into the dumpster before Eric spoke. "Look, Jake," he started, "I get that you're mad. I'm mad, too. What I don't get is why you're blaming me, I didn't -"
"You voted with Gray Anderson, Eric," Jake interrupted, spinning around to face his brother, his irritation plainly apparent in his features. "Gray Anderson! And, don't look now, but it sure seems to me like we rolled over for Jonah Prowse. Only problem is, we got nothing out of the deal. No prisoner, no food," he reminded, shaking his head. "Good work there, Eric."
"Look - okay - look," he stuttered. "Maybe we messed up," Eric admitted. "But we can fix this. Tomorrow, we just go out to Jonah's with a show of force. You, me, Jimmy, Bill, whoever we can get. We handle it."
"No, we don't," Jake contradicted. "Unless by 'handle it' you mean getting them killed. 'Cause, if you take Jimmy and Bill out there, you will get them killed."
"Well, what do you suggest, then? What do we do now?"
Jake faced his brother with a sour smile. "You don't need to worry about it, Eric. I'm handling this now. You go back to doin' whatever it is you do." He moved around Eric then, and headed back down the alley toward Main Street, not bothering to look back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Saturday, October 27, five years before the bombs
Heather entered Bailey's Tavern and looked around. This was her first time in Jericho's favorite watering hole; she only drank occasionally - had only been legally eligible to do so for a little over a year - and having butted heads with the president of the PTA almost immediately upon arriving in town, Heather had figured clean living was the way to go. After all, it was one thing to bump into one of her student's parents at the pizza parlor or the coffee house, but meeting one of them in the bar would be awkward. However, April had suggested that they meet at six for drinks, and Heather had agreed, so now she was here.
Scanning the room, Heather checked her watch. She'd planned to be early, and she'd succeeded; it was only a quarter to. She was just about to find a quiet corner to wait for April when she realized that the other woman was already there, waving at her from a booth in the back. Heather let out the breath she'd been holding and headed for April's table, sliding into the opposite seat. "Hello," she greeted, laughing softly. "And, I thought I was always early."
"Oh, I just got here," April assured with a dismissive wave. She closed the book she'd been reading and set it in the middle of the table. "But then, I feel late if I'm not twenty minutes early for everything."
"Me too," Heather nodded, starting to giggle. "And, you're not gonna believe this," she continued, reaching into her purse, "But I brought a book to read, too." She held the volume up for April's inspection.
"Oh, geez!" April laughed, watching Heather as she placed her book, The Fellowship of the Ring, on the table, right next to April's identical copy. "After I talked to you on Monday, I thought it would be a good idea to re-read it before the movie came out."
"My plan, exactly," Heather grinned. "Great minds, right?"
April smiled. "Absolutely."
A waitress appeared then, setting a glass of white wine down on a cocktail napkin in front of April. "Here you go, Dr. Green," she smiled, and then turned to Heather. "And, what can I get you?"
"Uh, the same," Heather answered quickly, gesturing at April's drink. "The same would be great."
"You got it," the waitress agreed. "I just need to see some ID," she added, offering an apologetic look.
"Right," Heather muttered, blushing and reaching for her purse.
"Well, well." The three women all looked over in time to see Stanley Richmond, beer in hand, sauntering in their direction. He grinned at Heather and April. "If it isn't the two girls the Green boys stole from me! Together." Stanley stepped around the waitress, his hand brushing her shoulder. "'Scuse me, Mary," he requested, slipping into the booth next to April and throwing his arm around her shoulder. "What's up, doc?"
Mary, the waitress, rolled her eyes. "'Nother beer, Stanley?" she inquired, returning Heather's driver's license with a smile. "All set. I'll get your drink."
Stanley held up his glass, which was half full. "Oh, I'm good for another ten or so," he assured her. "Don't worry 'bout me, Mare."
"Trust me, I won't," Mary snorted, shaking her head at Stanley. "Good luck," she added, shooting both April and Heather sympathetic looks before walking back towards the bar.
"Sooo," April began, eyeing Heather speculatively, "I know how I'm the first girl one of the Green boys stole from poor Stanley, but how are you the second?"
"Poor Stanley is right," he sighed, leaning his head on April's shoulder and pouting. "Did you know that I took April to the prom?" he asked Heather. He lifted his head and leaned over the table, stage whispering, "And, we totally made out. Second base." He sat back, frowning when April shoved him away, trying not to laugh. "I coulda married a doctor. Mom would've been so proud."
"I did know that," Heather answered, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling. "That you went to the prom, I mean."
"And the rest is just between us," April reminded, nodding her head until Stanley caught on and did the same.
"Yeah. Good idea," he agreed. "Eric probably wouldn't like that, huh?" He looked down at the table, and then up at the two of them. "Are there two books?" Stanley asked, wrinkling his forehead, "Or've I had more to drink than I thought?"
April caught Heather's eye and shook her head. "What are you talking about, Stanley?" she questioned, affecting a nonchalant tone. She reached for her wineglass and took a sip. "What book?"
"Yeah, who brings a book to a bar?" Heather asked, biting her lip to prevent a smile.
Stanley frowned at Heather, glanced sideways at April, and then back at Heather. "That book," he muttered, very deliberately bringing his index finger down on the cover of the book on the left. "And that book," he added, pressing the index finger of his other hand to the book on the right. "Two books!" he insisted.
Heather and April both burst out in peals of laughter.
"You're both mean," Stanley informed them, raising his voice to be heard over their giggles. "Mean girls!" he accused melodramatically. "The Green boys can have ya!"
"They sure can. Right, Heather?" April asked grinning at her across the table. "Which reminds me, I still haven't heard how it is that Jake stole you from Stanley." Very conveniently, Mary arrived at that moment with Heather's drink, setting it on the table in front of her. "Drink! Spill!" April commanded.
"I met Stanley first, through Bonnie, that's all," Heather responded with a shrug. "He asked me out, we went out, and that's pretty much it."
"She told me I reminded her of her brother," Stanley sighed, taking a swig of his beer. "Before I could even kiss her," he complained.
"Sorry Stanley," Heather apologized with a soft smile. "I did fix your tractor, though, to make up for it," she reminded him, reaching for her wineglass.
Stanley nodded, a resigned look settling on his face. "True," he agreed. "And, there was that one day. Jake couldn't figure us out," he confided to April, pointing at Heather and then at himself. "Quite jealous, our Jakey. I'll have to 'member that for the toast at your wedding," Stanley muttered, mostly to himself.
Heather's cheeks turned pink, and she protested, "We're not getting married!"
"So you're just gonna live in sin?" Stanley shot back, laughing. "Oooh! Even better."
"Be nice, Stanley," April commanded, reaching up to pat the top of his head. "Jake and Heather aren't getting married." She waited a beat and then, grinning at Heather, added, "Yet. And, when they do get married," April continued, chuckling at the slightly uncomfortable expression on Heather's face, "You'll be nice and remember the number one rule of wedding toasts: don't embarrass the bride!"
"Can I embarrass Jake?"
"Groom's always fair game," April returned over the edge of her glass. "Only the bride is sacrosanct." She looked at Heather. "Don't worry," she reassured, "Stanley was very good at my wedding. He didn't even complain when I paired him up with my sister Autumn."
"Your dippy sister Autumn," Stanley supplied with a mock shudder. "Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly. "But at your wedding," Stanley said, throwing Heather a very credible hang-dog look, "Please, pick a good bridesmaid for me to spend the day with."
Groaning, Heather shook her head. She reached for her glass, taking what could really only be classified as a gulp of wine. "First, I am not getting married," she insisted, glaring at them both. "And, second," she chuckled, grinning at April, "Your sister's name is really Autumn?"
"Yep," April confirmed. "And, even worse, my baby sister's name is August. Nobody knows what my parents were thinking, and my mother has since apologized," she joked. "They were both my maids of honor, though I don't actually remember making that decision. Just a little wedding planning warning there," she told Heather. "And, I know, you're not getting married. Anyway," April continued, taking a deep breath, "Stanley was best man, and then Jake was best man, too -"
"We were best men," Stanley interjected, "Both of us. Co-best men." April raised an eyebrow, shooting him a semi-amused look. "Just trying to help," he muttered, finishing off his beer.
"I know," April smiled, patting Stanley's arm. She faced Heather again. "I had to stick poor Jake with August. She had a crush on him when she was nine, and I swear it never went away," April admitted, chuckling. "That turned out to be a really weird combination. I mean, August literally didn't move two feet away from Jake for the entire day, plus he was on crutches, still had a concussion, not to mention he was taking some pretty heavy-duty painkillers," she listed. "Let's just say, Jake's toast was a little questionable," April sighed, frowning softly. "Though the questionable part was all aimed at Eric, and not at me," she reminded Stanley, catching his eye. "And that's because...."
"That's because the bride is sancro - saccharin - sarco - important?"
"Sacrosanct, exactly," April declared, smiling at Stanley. "And, you just remember that when Heather gets married," she ordered, shaking a finger at him. This time there was no protest from Heather, and so April supplied for her, "Not that she's getting married." Grinning, she glanced across the table at Heather, surprised to find her staring back, her expression obviously troubled.
"Painkillers? Crutches?" Heather questioned, frowning. "Concussion?"
"Uh, yeah," April confirmed, an almost guilty look crossing her features. "Jake was - he had an accident - four days - well, really three days - before the wedding."
"That's when...." Heather prompted, looking back and forth between April and Stanley, not bothering to complete her statement. They both nodded.
"Yeah," April confirmed. "But, I shouldn't have said anything. And, look, he was okay." She chuckled nervously. "Little mad that there was an open bar, and he couldn't take advantage of it, but otherwise okay."
Stanley cleared his throat. "I think I'm gonna go sit over there with Heather now," he informed April.
She smiled at him. "Sounds like a plan," April agreed, kissing Stanley on the cheek. "Okay with you, Heather?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Okay." Stanley slid out of April's side of the booth, and then in next to Heather, pulling her into a quick hug. She leaned her head against his arm. "You really do remind me of my big brother," she sighed, smiling softly. "Thanks."
"Just what every guy wants to hear," Stanley grumbled. "So, what are you two ladies doing out tonight, without the Green boys?" He tried to make the question sound light, but he couldn't quite manage it.
"They're off hunting," April reminded, "So we're having a 'girls' night out'. I'm surprised that you, the third Green twin, didn't go with 'em."
"You're the third Green twin?" Heather asked, craning her neck to look up at Stanley.
He laughed. "That's what the teachers called me, usually when I was in trouble. And, as for why I didn't go huntin'," Stanley shrugged, "It's bow season, and that's not really my thing. I'll go in January when rifle season starts. Besides," he smirked, "That's a one room cabin, and Gramps snores, Mayor Green snores, Eric -"
"Snores!" April declared, laughing. "I'm trying to get him to see an ENT doc for that."
"Jake snores too," Stanley informed Heather, "Just so you know."
"Thanks for the tip," Heather chuckled. "Now, I know absolutely nothing about hunting," she admitted, continuing, "So 'bow season'? As in bow and arrow? Robin Hood? People still do that?"
"Bow and arrows, yes," Stanley said. "But not those flimsy Robin Hood things. These are ... deadly. Have you seen the practice range out at the ranch?" he asked Heather. She thought about it for a few seconds, recalling the open field with the bales of hay, targets pinned to them, that she'd seen the day Jake had given her the grand tour. Heather nodded. "It's in the middle of nowhere," Stanley reminded, "Nothing around it. There's a reason for that."
"It's just not the archery that you and I did at summer camp," April added, smiling kindly at Heather. "Eric bought a new bow a month ago. It was eight hundred dollars, and that's not custom. This is serious stuff."
Heather looked back and forth between Stanley and April. "Poor Bambi," she murmured, starting to giggle nervously.
This time it was Stanley and April who burst out laughing, Stanley actually guffawing and pounding his hand on the table, almost knocking over Heather's wineglass. April recovered first, and sputtering, told Heather, "We're not laughing at you, promise."
"Oh, I am!" Stanley crowed, "Poor Bambi!" He took a deep breath, and then let it out. "Poor Bambi," he repeated, starting to chuckle again.
"Oh, have your fun," Heather muttered, blushing softly.
Mary the waitress returned then, smiling warmly. "Can I get any of you a refill?"
"Sure!" Stanley returned, stretching his arms out along the back of the booth. "More wine, ladies?"
"Actually, we have to go," April answered. "Sorry, Stanley, but we're late for spaghetti and spumoni."
Stanley slid out of the booth and stood up. "Cancel that beer, Mary," he said, pulling a couple of bills out of his wallet and handing them to her. "Roma Italia, here we come!" he declared gleefully.
"Oh Stanley," April replied, cringing slightly, "Dinner is girls only. Sorry."
Heather extracted herself from the booth and, standing on tiptoe, pressed a quick kiss to Stanley's cheek. "Sorry, Stanley," she apologized. "But, hey, we'll definitely call you for drinks next girls night out," she promised, chuckling softly. Heather slipped past him then and, after grabbing both their books off the table, followed April out of the bar.
Mary shot Stanley a look that was half amused, half sympathetic. "Tell you what, Stanley. I'll uncancel that beer."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wednesday, November 1, six weeks after the bombs
Jake popped the hood on the old truck and glanced over the engine. Looking sideways at Heather, he demanded, stunned, "This is all that's working?" For a brief moment he considered doing something - checking the oil, changing the spark plugs, beating on the radiator with a wrench, something - but he knew there was no point. There was nothing he could do to this old truck that Heather hadn't already taken care of. He dropped the hood, pushing down on it so that the latch would catch.
"Eric hit something with your Dad's truck on Monday," Heather answered, eyeing him carefully, not sure he'd heard about that yet. "It's leakin' everything at this point, plus I think the axle's cracked. To fix it, I'd have to crawl underneath, which, on the advice of my doctor, I will not be doing," she added, pressing her hand to her middle.
"Thank you," Jake muttered, shaking his head. "That'd be your husband's advice, too. I don't really need to think about a car falling on you."
"Yeah, plus I don't fit - or I won't fit in a week," she admitted with a sigh. "Mr. Carlisle's gonna take a look at it for me, sometime," Heather explained, offering a slight smile. "He's joking about putting up a sign that says 'Carlisle and Green Motorworks: Auto Repair for a New Era'."
He acknowledged her words with an absent grin, glancing around the open area in front of the garage. After the incident at the ranch five days before, he'd pretty much forced Heather to move her auto repair efforts back to town. His parents' across the street neighbor was a semi-retired mechanic with his own garage three blocks from home. Mr. Carlisle had been more than willing to provide space for Heather, and she'd been happy to accept. The garage wasn't as modern as Murthy's out on the highway, but that was a blessing; things still worked at Carlisle's. It had taken a day and a half, but with Stanley's help, they'd moved four vehicles, including Jake's Roadrunner, sputtering and stalling out all the way, and all of the tools from the shop at the ranch to the garage. Heather was back in business.
"Gramps stopped driving this thing back when Dad was still in high school," he protested, looking over the orange and white Ford. Jake took a step back, shaking his head. "Thanks, Eric," he grumbled, turning to face Heather. "Is this thing gonna die on me halfway out there?"
"Jake," she complained, frowning. "This is what we've got."
"Sorry," Jake muttered. He knew that impugning all of the work she'd put in on the cars over the last couple of weeks was unfair, especially when his brother insisted on undoing that hard work. "The truck's fine."
"Well, if it does die, will you take it as a sign, and not go?" she asked, crossing her arms and studying him.
He let his head fall forward, closing his eyes. He knew that she was unhappy with his decision to go out to West Kansas Shipping and Freight and confront Jonah Prowse. "We talked about this last night," he muttered. "If I don't go, Eric's gonna raid the place and get everybody killed."
"You're not invincible, Jake. You - things can happen to you, too, ya know." Heather stared at him for moment, and then took a deep breath. "Luckily for you," she continued, shaking her head, "Charlotte's sturdy. No chance she's going to crap out on you."
"You named Gramps's truck 'Charlotte'?" he asked, his lips twitching slightly.
Heather shrugged. "I name everything, eventually," she reminded, reluctantly giving into a smile.
Jake chuckled and took a step toward Heather. She stepped back, Jake following until he'd backed her into the fender of the truck. "That's true. You named the vacuum cleaner," he accused, kissing her forehead. "Herbert," he snorted.
"Horses, cars, chickens, appliances," Heather listed. She snaked her arm around his waist and laid her head against his chest. "Anything's fair game," she added as his arms came up around her.
"So," he asked, looking over the truck at the Roadrunner which sat with its hood up in the garage's right hand bay. "Does my car have a name?" She giggled nervously. Jake's eyes narrowed, and he looked down at the top of her head. "Heather," he said gruffly, "What'd you name it?"
"Um, don't you have somewhere to be?" she countered, glancing up at him, the slightest of blushes tingeing her cheeks. "Deals to make? Messes to clean up?"
"Yeah," Jake agreed. "What'd you name it?"
"Uh-uh. A girl's gotta have some secrets," Heather informed him. "Well, that's one of mine. But, hey," she said, a hopeful gleam in her eye, "Don't go and I'll tell you."
"I have to go, babe," he murmured, cupping her chin and pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth.
Heather sighed, frowning softly. "I know."
"People are starting to go hungry," he told her, his sense of frustration, never long at bay these days, returning. "If I don't work this out, we're gonna go hungry," Jake stressed, letting her go and taking a step away. "I have to try."
She nodded. They'd had this discussion the night before. Jake had explained what he thought Jonah could do for them, for the town. That Jonah, more than anyone else they had access to, could supply the food and fuel they would need in the coming months. He'd told her also about his discussion with Derek Hyde, and his realization that they needed to set up some sort of exchange, a system of distribution. Heather, in turn, had reminded Jake of the realities of Jericho the community: a twelve percent poverty rate in the county, higher for families with children; a fifth of her students on food stamps and the school lunch program. There were already plenty of people in desperate circumstances.
The children that had attended the Halloween party, Heather had admitted, those had been the kids whose parents were well-off. They were the children of parents who could still find and afford gas, the parents who could still assemble a Halloween costume from what was laying around in their attics and basements, the parents that could still muster the energy to take a few hours to have some fun and forget. There were a lot of other parents and children in Jericho who had not been at the party, she'd explained, and Jake, armed with another piece of the puzzle, had become even more resolute. He knew that he had to go to Jonah; he had to try. Reluctantly, Heather had agreed to his trip, but that didn't mean she was happy about it.
"Okay," she murmured, reaching for his hand. She gripped it tightly for the three seconds it took for Jake to yank open the trucks door and slide into the seat. Letting go, she stepped back, pushing the door closed while at the same time he pulled it closed from the inside. They offered one another weak smiles. "So, ah, be careful," Heather sighed, leaning through the open window.
"Only going ten miles," he argued.
She shook her head. "I meant with him. I was at that trial."
"Yeah," Jake acknowledged, sucking a deep breath through his teeth.
"I love you," Heather tried to smile then, brushing one errant curl off his forehead with her hand. "Please don't get yourself killed."
"I love you, too," he returned, capturing her hand as she withdrew it, and pressing a kiss to her palm.
Heather couldn't help but laugh. "You have no idea where that's been this morning."
"Thought I detected a hint of grease," he chuckled, making a face. Jake took another deep breath and then turned the key in the ignition. The truck rumbled sluggishly to life. "Home in time for lunch, I promise."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *