The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 8B of ? by Marzee Doats

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

Wednesday, November 1, six weeks after the bombs

"Wow, this is quite the production line," April murmured.  She'd stopped for a moment in the archway between the living and dining rooms to survey the ice-making efforts which had taken over the table and then some. 

"Thanks," Heather sighed, turning a pie tin over and then hitting it with her fist to pop out a perfect nine-inch ice pie.  "Once I figured it out," she continued, transferring the ice chunk to the cooler she'd dragged in from the garage, "It was pretty easy.  And for that, I've gotta thank Emily Sullivan.  Betcha never thought you'd hear me say that," Heather joked, dropping the ice chest's lid into place and then looking up at April.

"You'd be right," April yawned.  She found a chair that was free of ice-making paraphernalia and sat down.  "Though - as generous of spirit as I'm feeling towards Emily tonight - I have a hard time believing she knew how to make ice with fertilizer when you didn't."

Emily Sullivan had arrived at the Green house a little after eight bearing what Heather had estimated to be nearly ten thousand dollars worth of antibiotics and the news that her father was taking Jake up on the deal he'd offered that morning.  She'd heard from Jimmy Taylor that the mayor was on his deathbed, and she had known that Jonah's desire to see her had been the deal breaker, so she'd gone out to West Kansas Shipping and Freight for a visit.

 "The mayor took me to the eighth grade father-daughter dance.  I was the only girl not going, and Jonah was in prison," she'd confessed to Heather and April, handing over the cardboard box filled with pill bottles.  "We were so... awkward with each other," she had recalled, "But it was sweet of him to do it.  Every time I vote for him, I think of that."  She'd looked down at her feet and shrugged.  "All I had to do was talk to Jonah for a little bit.  It's worth it, especially if I can help him."

They'd poured the box out on the coffee table and quickly sorted through the bottles.  Much to their disappointment, there hadn't been any Cipro amongst the medication from Jonah, but April hadn't been about to turn down an infusion that would bolster her dwindling pharmacy and keep the clinic - hopefully - in operation for a few more weeks.  Emily had donated everything outright, much to April's surprise, and then she'd stuck around for another hour, helping Heather start her ice-making endeavor before finally taking her leave.

"It didn't work at first," Heather shrugged, pouring more water into the pie tin and then placing it back in the bowl of cooling solution.  "I was doing it wrong," she admitted, yawning.  "Emily talked me through it, helped me realize what I needed to do."

April smiled and let out a deep breath.  "Well, it worked.  And, I'm happy to report that Dad's fever's down two degrees.  We've got some wiggle room until the guys get back," she declared.

"They'll be back, April," Heather assured, reaching across the table to squeeze her sister-in-law's hand.  "Any time now, don't worry."

"I worked in that hospital for three years, and it was always creepy at night," April confided.  "Now, with no electricity and in the dark?"  She shook her head, shuddering softly.  "I just can't imagine."

"They've already been and gone," Heather reminded.  "Everything's fine,"' she insisted.  "They're already on their way back."  April nodded, and Heather withdrew her hand.  "How's Gail doing?" she asked softly.

"I finally got her to lay down for a bit," April explained, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawned again.  "She won't leave him alone though, and if she actually falls asleep she'll probably roll right off the edge of the bed."

Heather chuckled tiredly.  "She's not gonna sleep 'til he's out of the woods.  You wouldn't.  I wouldn't."

"Yeah," April agreed, frowning slightly.  She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.  "I think I'm going to make a pot of coffee."

"Now you're just being mean," Heather complained.

"You can have some too.  One cup," April said, emphasizing her point by holding up one finger.  "As a pregnant woman you need to limit yourself to no more than three hundred fifty milligrams of caffeine a day.  A cup of coffee's 'bout a hundred," she explained, leading a suddenly very interested Heather into the kitchen.  "We just needed to wean you off it first, Ms. Ten-cups-a-day."

"Three," Heather contradicted.  "Okay, four.  Sometimes five on weekends."  She waited a moment and then asked, a hopeful gleam lighting her eyes, "So I can have coffee every day?"

"Can you limit yourself to one cup?" April returned.  "And, I mean a normal person's cup, not one of your giant, 'gimme the biggest cup you got' cups."

"Absolutely," Heather yawned, still grinning softly.  She took a seat at the kitchen table, watching as April, working by lantern light, started coffee percolating on the camp stove.  Fuel for the camp stove was a precious commodity at this point, but the stove was much easier to control than the fireplace, and so they tended to save it for the activities deemed most important, like brewing coffee.  It was an open question as to whether their supply of ground coffee - and they used the grounds two or three times now - or the fuel for the camp stove would run out first.

"I told Johnston he needed to make it, that the baby needed a grandfather," April began, taking a seat at the table.

"Jake said the same thing before they left," Heather offered, stifling yet another yawn.  Now that they were in a waiting game, her energy was starting to flag.  "Well one thing about having been on the wagon," she joked weakly, "That coffee might actually wake me up."

"Yeah," April nodded, though she was obviously distracted.  She took a deep breath.  "I didn't mean - well, I didn't just mean your baby, though," she said slowly, catching Heather's eye across the table.  "I meant my baby - our baby - too."  A smile slowly crept onto April's features, animating her weary expression.  "I'm pregnant too.  Amazingly."

Heather stared, open-mouthed, at April.  "Seriously?" she demanded, her voice squeaking, as she lifted herself out of her chair and went around to the other side of the table to hug April.  "But how?" she asked next, answering herself in the next second.  "I mean, I know how, obviously.  But the last thing I knew, you were going to ask Eric to move out.  Before the bombs, I mean," Heather completed.

"Well, this was just before the bombs," April murmured, shrugging.  "I'm at six, seven weeks, so not quite three months behind you," she reasoned, watching Heather as she returned to her seat.  "And, I never got around to asking Eric to leave, but I did have divorce papers drawn up."

Nodding absently, Heather sat back in her chair, laying one hand on her abdomen.  "Wow," she muttered.  "I didn't - You never told me that things were that close to - to final."

"They were and they weren't," April replied, clearing her throat.  "Things were better for a few days," she sighed.  "We were getting along - we actually enjoyed ourselves at Eric's law school reunion.  Then we came home and had another bad week."

"Right," Heather murmured.  She remembered running into April and Eric at the market that Monday night after they'd first gotten back from Lawrence.  It was the first time she'd seen them together outside of a family event in months, and she'd been surprised by how lighthearted they had been with each other.  Eric had teased April about her coupon clipping habit, especially given that Gracie Leigh, having once read a news article on coupon fraud, was notorious for arguing about each and every one that found its way into her store.  Laughing, April had kissed him on the cheek and sent him off to find paper towels before flashing Heather a pleased smile.  But by that Wednesday, a week before the bombs, when Heather had stopped by their house to drop off a book and pick up a bag of old magazines destined for collage-making at the elementary school, it had been more than obvious that they were in the middle of an argument.  Eric had taken advantage of her arrival by leaving.

 April frowned, clearly trying to marshal her thoughts.  "I wasn't trying to keep things from you," she assured Heather.  "It's just that Jake was gone, and you didn't know when he was coming home.  Then, I told you that you were pregnant."  April held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness.  "I didn't want - You had enough going on already.  I didn't want to drag you into my problems, too.  Besides, 'drawn up' doesn't mean divorced," she declared, straightening in her seat.  "And, that's the last thing I want now."

They both fell silent for a long moment, and then April got up to check the coffee.  She poured them each a cup, taking a sip from her own before carrying Heather's to her. 

"This is a miracle!" Heather exclaimed, accepting the mug.  She smiled brightly at her sister-in-law before savoring her first taste of coffee in over a month.  "A genuine miracle," she repeated.  "April, you have no idea how happy I am for you."

"It is a miracle," April agreed, giggling softly.  A beatific smile graced her lips and she offered a contented sigh.  "Who knew?  I mean now, after a year of not exactly trying, followed by a year of trying, and fighting about trying, and all those doctor's visits that got us nowhere.  We should have just given up two years ago, saved ourselves some trouble," she joked, though there was no humor in her eyes.

Heather nodded and took a long sip of her coffee.  Wrapping her hands around the mug to warm them, she faced April with a guarded look.  "You have no idea how guilty I felt when I got pregnant so easily," she confessed, glancing away.

"Why?" April questioned, genuinely surprised.  "I was always happy for you," she assured, stretching across the table to place her hand over Heather's.  "I've been jealous of lots of other people," she admitted, her expression turning momentarily sheepish.  "Every time in the last year, year and a half, that I told someone that she was pregnant, especially if she didn't want to be," she sighed, shaking her head.  "But if I couldn't have a baby, then getting to be 'Auntie April' to yours was the next best thing."  She smiled then and explained, her tone teasing, "I had grand plans for spoiling your kid rotten on a regular basis and then giving her back."

"Her, huh?" Heather smiled softly, contemplating the possibility.

"Well, I already have a nephew," April shrugged. 

The sudden reminder of their family outside of Jericho - the Lisinskis in New York and April's sisters in Washington State and New Mexico - put a momentary damper on their conversation.  They sat, both frowning, both nursing their coffee in silence until Heather sighed, pushing her mug away.  "I think a little girl would be good for this family.  Two little girls, even.  Let's both have girls," she suggested, a grin materializing on her face.  "And then they can grow up together as cousins and best friends."

April smiled in return.  "Sounds like a plan," she chuckled.  "I'm sure their grandmother would love it.  Two little girls she can make frilly dresses and sweaters for."

"And, 'Grandpa' too," Heather argued.  "They'll double-team him and turn him to absolute mush," she predicted, giggling at the thought of Johnston Green as the grandfather to two little pig-tailed girls. 

"Definitely," April agreed.

"So, how excited is Eric?" Heather asked a few seconds later. 

"Ac - actually, he doesn't know yet," April admitted, her expression turning embarrassed.  "I was going to tell him tonight," she explained quickly, "And then....  I'll tell him as soon as I can, once he's home.  It's hard to find a minute alone, you know?" she complained, letting out a frustrated breath.  "I didn't plan on telling Johnston, but it just came out.  Besides, he's in and out of consciousness, he won't remember."  April paused to finish off her coffee.  "Gail heard though," she admitted, "And I've told you, so I do need to tell him.  I will, first chance I get."

Heather nodded.  "Just let me know when he knows," she instructed.  "I don't want to congratulate him too soon and ruin the surprise.   Or!  Better yet," Heather reasoned, "Just make an announcement at dinner some night soon, and we'll all act surprised, and he'll never know."

That'll work," April agreed, relief evident in her tone.  She peered then at the face of her watch, trying to make out the time in the inadequate light given off by the lantern.  "It's just now midnight," she murmured, lifting her head and meeting Heather's eye.

"They'll be home soon," Heather reminded.  "Any minute now."

"Yeah," April acknowledged with a sigh.  She forced herself up out of her chair, Heather following suit.  "I better go check on my patient."

"You mean 'Grandpa'," Heather corrected with a smile.  She moved toward April, pulling her into another hug.  "Congratulations."

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

Sunday, October 28, five years before the bombs

Grandpa Green took one look at Jake and decided that this was perhaps not the best time to antagonize his grandson.  Instead of approaching Heather, as was his original intention, he turned and offered his arm to April, who laughed and accepted it willingly.  Leading her forward, he slipped his free arm through Gail's, effectively hijacking her from Johnston, and then struck out toward The Pizza Garden.  Eric fell into step with his father, the two of them picking up in their running discussion of town business, leaving Jake and Heather to bring up the rear.

The restaurant was a block from the church and they had only a few moments to enjoy the bright sunshine and crisp air of the fall day before they were indoors again.  Grandpa Green strode forward through the waiting crowd.  "Maggie, m'dear!" he greeted, grinning widely, "How're you today?"

Mags Henry preened, fluffing her hair and returning Grandpa's big grin.  "Well, I'm doin' just great!" she declared.  "How 'bout yourself, EJ Green?" she inquired, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Good, good," he assured her.  "So," he continued, peering at the book on the hostess's stand, "I believe you have a reservation in there?  Green family, party of seven."

"Why - why, yes, of course," Mags agreed, nodding.  "Here you are!" she smiled, crossing something out in the book with a fat, black marker.  "You're just a few minutes early," she told him, playing along.  "We're getting your table set up right now."  The rest of the Greens and Heather exchanged concerned and amused looks.  The after church lunch crowd could be cutthroat and they all knew that Grandpa Green - former beloved mayor or not - was playing a dangerous game trying to jump the line.

"We don't mind waiting," Grandpa declared magnanimously.  "And, we would like to request a certain Miss Melinda Henry as our waitress, if that's all right?"

Laughing, Mags nodded.  "I'm sure that can be arranged.  I'm gonna go check on your table," she added, drawing groans from many of the others waiting to be seated.  Mags headed into the dining room and collared a busboy, putting him to work on clearing a couple of tables for the Greens.

Jake pulled Heather off to the side.  He stood behind her, not quite touching her but close enough that he could whisper in her ear.  "I'm sorry," he muttered.  "I wasn't planning a triple date plus Gramps," he complained.

She chuckled softly, reaching back to lace her fingers through his and twisting her head so she could look up and meet his gaze.  "It's okay.  And to be fair," she reminded, "I'm the one who told Eric where we were going.  I like your family, Jake," she smiled.

"Well, after this, we're definitely ditching all of them," he promised.

"Sounds like a plan," Heather whispered, leaning back against Jake.  Gail and April, standing together on the other side of the cramped waiting area, couldn't help but observe this moment, and exchanged pleased grins.

Their table was soon ready, and enduring the somewhat nasty looks being thrown in their direction by the other patrons, they followed Mags into the dining room.  She led them to a hastily assembled table that was somewhat off to the side in the main room.  Here the tables were close together, and diners had to put up with bumping their chairs with those at neighboring tables, and bashing elbows and knees with those at their own table.  The booths at the back of the restaurant, such as the one Jake and Heather had shared on their first date, were definitely the premium seating at The Pizza Garden. 

Johnston pulled Gail's chair out for her with a flourish, seating her on the corner, before taking his own seat at the end of the table.  He watched with barely concealed amusement as the rest of the family scrambled for their seats.  When the dust had settled, April had ended up next to Gail with Eric on her right, and Jake was seated across from his brother, with Heather between him and Grandpa Green.  Jake had already had to apologize twice to the Carmichaels who had the table behind them, first when he'd knocked into the back of ten-year old Joey's chair trying to seat Heather, and then again when he'd bumped Mrs. Carmichael with his own chair.

"Mindy'll be right out," Mags promised once they were all seated.  She handed out menus, withholding Eric's when she reached him, inquiring brusquely, "And when will you be putting your mother out of her misery, and making her a grandmother, young man?" 

Clearing his throat, Johnston was forced to hide a smile behind his hand when Al and Junie Thompson, sitting at the next table, turned to listen for the answer.  "Mom!" Eric protested, groaning, "We only got married three months ago."  He glared ineffectively at Mags.  "I don't believe you two."

"Four months ago," Gail corrected, smiling.  "And I didn't say a thing."

"It's true," Mags confirmed, finally handing Eric his menu.  "She hasn't said one word to me, though I do know that you agree with me," she argued, glancing at Gail.  "I just can't help thinking what beautiful babies you two would make," she sighed, returning her attention to the newly wedded couple.

Eric grinned at April then.  "Well, sure, that's a given," he agreed, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

"I need to finish my residency at the very least," April added, her eyes never leaving Eric's.  "Establish my practice.  Then we can talk."

Mags looked across the table at Jake, catching his eye.  "Well then, what about you?" she inquired, her hands on her hips, grinning at him.

"Wh - what?  Me?" Jake stammered, his eyes widening.  Next to him, Heather was already blushing bright red.

Mags studied Jake for a long moment.  He squirmed a little in his chair and then she saw his arm shift slightly, and she knew that he'd reached for Heather's hand under the table.  Mags' smile widened.  "Well, I suppose we'll let you off the hook for the time being," she chuckled, winking at Jake.  Placing her hands on April's and Eric's shoulders, she gave them both a squeeze.  "Guess it's up to the two of you, after all."

Gail placed her menu on the table and then folded her hands primly on top of it.  "I look forward to being a grandmother of course," she said, addressing Eric and April who both turned to look at her.  "But there's no rush."

Immediately, Johnston and Grandpa Green both started to snicker.  They looked around the table, catching the eyes of the other four and soon they were all laughing, even Heather.  The restaurant, packed as it always was on Sunday afternoons - the after church crowd was actually a bigger business than either Friday or Saturday night - was filled with noise, but their boisterous laughter still drew the attention of those seated at many of the tables nearest their own.  "Well, really!" Gail protested, straightening in her seat. They all just laughed harder.

"Of course, whatever you say, sweetheart," Johnston said after a few seconds, patting his wife's hand.  He exhaled and then took a deep breath, still struggling against the urge to chuckle. Looking around the table, he asked, "So what are we ordering?"

"I vote Hawaiian," Eric announced from the end of the table.

Jake groaned, shaking his head.  "No way!  That's - that's just wrong," he argued.

"I like Hawaiian pizza," Heather interjected.  Gaping, Jake turned to look at her, his arm grazing hers.  "I like pineapple," she shrugged.

"I like pineapple, too," Jake claimed.  "But not on pizza!  It's a fruit, it doesn't belong, it's not supposed to be hot," Jake said, crossing his arms, a stubborn expression settling on his face.  "It's not traditional."

Heather faced him, her head cocked to one side, fighting a smile.  "Well, yes," she conceded, "But it's the exception that proves the rule.  I wouldn't want apple slices or grapes on a pizza, but I do like Hawaiian," she informed him, giving into her grin.

"Jake, you're such a pizza - a pizza Luddite," April complained, shaking her head.  "There's a whole world beyond pepperoni and sausage," she insisted.  "Join us in it."

Grandpa Green snorted and peered around Heather, trying to catch his grandson's eye, but Jake's gaze was firmly settled on her alone.  They were both now smiling - Heather sweetly, Jake somewhat crookedly - and were locked in some sort of staring contest.  "You are a bit of a fuddy-duddy when it comes to pizza, Jake," Grandpa added, rolling his eyes.

The others all chuckled at the accusation, stopping abruptly a few seconds later when Jake leaned over and pressed his lips to Heather's.  It was a gentle, lingering kiss, one that earned approving sighs from Gail and April.  There was certainly nothing inappropriate about the almost chaste way in which he kissed her, but the Greens were still surprised by the very public display of affection, and they were all left with the distinct impression that their presence had been completely forgotten by the couple.  Jake and Heather finally pulled apart when a little boy, one of her students, walking past the table with his family declared loudly, "Mom!  He's kissing Miss Lisinski!"  This announcement was, once again, enough to draw the attention of nearly half of The Pizza Garden's customers.

Heather, turning instantly crimson, reared back, hitting her head on Grandpa's shoulder.  "David, Mrs. Cornett," she greeted, taking a deep breath and rubbing the back of her head.  The little boy, his mouth hanging open, stood with his mother right behind Gail and Johnston, while his father and older sister waited a few feet away.  Heather flashed them a tight smile, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Mrs. Cornett looked nearly as embarrassed as Heather.  "Miss Lisinski, very sorry to bother you," she mumbled.  "We'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your day."  She forced her son forward toward the exit without waiting for a response.  They could hear her whispering furiously at her child about the things that should and should not be said when out in public.  Around them, the diners at the other tables slowly turned back to their conversations and meals.

"Well, I'm going to vote for Hawaiian pizza too," April announced after a long moment, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over their group.  She offered Heather a quick smile, prompting Heather to begin breathing once more.  "So, Jake, if you can live with it on the table," she continued sarcastically, "Along with whatever boring pizza the rest of you choose, then Heather, Eric and I can go the non-traditional route, even though I'm pretty sure Hawaiian pizza's been on the menu longer than you or I've been alive, and therefore isn't exactly a radical choice."

Under the table, Heather had a death grip on Jake's hand.  He risked a glance at her, and was grateful to see that her blush had subsided.  Still watching her, he squeezed her fingers.  "Sure thing, April," Jake agreed.  Slowly, he turned his head to face his sister-in-law.  "I can live with it."  April smiled at him, chuckling soundlessly.

"Well, hello Greens," Mindy Henry greeted approaching their table with a tray of water glasses.  "And, Heather," she added, throwing her a quick smile.  "Good to see that Jakey hasn't given you a reason to dump him yet."

"Oh, she may have had a reason or two, Melinda," Grandpa suggested, giving her a sideways hug as she placed his water glass in front of him.  "Lucky for Jake, Heather seems to like him."

Everyone laughed at that, and then Heather surprised them by teasing Jake, saying, "So far, I've got no complaints."

Mindy, wearing the same amused expression as the rest of the Greens, placed the last glass of water in front of Gail and tucked her tray under her arm, retrieving an order pad from her apron.  "What can I get you all to drink?" she inquired, standing next to Johnston who was beginning to collect menus from the rest of the family.  "Though, as it is Sunday, and no alcohol may be sold or served within the Jericho town boundaries on Sundays," she reminded, "I can't offer you our beer and wine list today."

"Mindy," Johnston practically growled, throwing the teenager an exasperated look, "I'll tell you the exact same thing I've told your grandmother each of the one thousand and -"

"Better not let Mags hear you refer to her as my grandmother," Mindy interrupted.  "Little bit of a sensitive subject with her," she warned.

"As I was saying," Johnston continued, raising his voice slightly, "If Mags objects - if you object - to the ordinances of this town, then she - or you, for that matter - should just get yourselves elected to the town council, and then browbeat everyone else - instead of just me - into changin' the law!"

Gail patted Mindy on the arm.  "Bit of a sensitive subject with the Mayor," she sighed, offering her husband a gentle smile.

"Rii-ight!" Mindy agreed, stepping behind Johnston's chair to allow another waitress, carrying a large pepperoni pizza, to pass.  "Well, somehow I don't think Mags is ever gonna run for office," she told Johnston.  He looked back at her and she gave him an apologetic smile.  "I think she just prefers to complain," Mindy admitted patting him on the shoulder.

"Her, and everybody else in this town," Johnston grumbled.  "I think a pitcher of root beer will suit us just fine, right?" he asked then, glancing around the table to collect nods from everyone else.  "Good," he declared.  "A pitcher or two of root beer, one medium Hawaiian pizza, and one medium Jericho's Favorite combination pizza," Johnston ordered, handing the menus he'd collected to Mindy, before turning to look up and down the table again.  "Anything else?"

"Perhaps a couple of baskets of breadsticks to tide us over," Gail suggested.  She looked around the table and, shaking her head at her sons, advised, "Better bring both marinara sauce and ranch dressing with those."

"Got it," Mindy declared, noting the addition on her pad.  "Jake and a Hawaiian pizza at the same table," she giggled, "This I gotta see.  Heather, you're a good influence on him," Mindy declared, smiling.  "Keep up the good work."

Jake looked like he was about to say something, but then Heather laid her head against his shoulder and, laughing softly, promised, "I'll try."  Jake settled for rolling his eyes at Mindy, and putting his arm around Heather.

"So, Heather," Grandpa Green inquired, "What exciting little task did Gail and the rest of the ladies strong arm you into doin' for the Harvest Festival?"

"No strong arming involved," Heather assured quickly, noticing Gail's incensed expression.  "I'm looking forward to it," she continued, lifting her head.  "It'll be fun.  And, I'm on face-painting detail."

"Well, I'm sure Jake's relieved that Mom didn't talk you into working the kissing booth," Eric joked, smirking at his brother.

Heather's eyebrows rose.  "There's a kissing booth?" she asked, her tone incredulous.  "Seriously?"

"We eliminated the kissing booth twenty years ago, as you well know," Gail reminded, throwing Eric an annoyed look.  "The liability issue got to be a nightmare," she explained to Heather.  "And besides, even if we still had one, I wouldn't ask you to staff it."

"Good thing," Stanley Richmond laughed, pausing behind Gail's chair.  He'd come into The Pizza Garden to pick up a to-go pie before retrieving Bonnie from her slumber party, and had detoured to say 'hello' when he'd spotted the Greens.  "Jake would punch out anyone who tried to kiss her," he announced.  "Trust me," Stanley grinned, winking at Heather.  "I've been threatened."

April laughed at that, twisting in her chair so she could look up at Stanley.  "That or he'd have to buy up all the tickets." 

"Well, I'm much more qualified for face-painting, I assure you," Heather interjected then.  "Lots and lots of years workin' Catholic school carnivals and summer camp field days."

"So, Jake," Stanley said, clearing his throat.  "You're awfully dressed up," he observed, amusement quirking his smile.  "Unless it's that you went to church this morning," he accused with a dramatic gasp.

"And made his mother very happy," Gail informed Stanley. 

"Noticed you weren't there, Stanley," Jake shot back.

"How's your head today, Stanley?" Heather asked.

"Little dehydrated there?" April added, breaking into giggles.

Much to his relief, Stanley was saved from answering any of these questions by Mindy's timely arrival.  "Here," she said, handing Eric a stack of still warm from the dishwasher plastic glasses.  Unloading her tray, she placed two baskets of breadsticks and a pitcher of root beer in the center of the table.  "I owe you a root beer," she informed no one in particular, and then scowled at Stanley.  "Your pizza's takin' up room on the counter.  Go get it!" Mindy commanded.

"Gotta get my pizza," Stanley shrugged, pointing over his shoulder at the take-out counter.  "But, good to see you all," he continued, inching away.  "So have a nice day," he finished, turning on his heel and heading into the back of the restaurant.

"Stanley had a bit of a night last night, I take it?" Johnston inquired glancing between April and Heather.

"He was having a good time all right," April agreed.  "But, it's good for Stanley to cut loose every once in awhile."

Around the table, everyone nodded.  Johnston, clearing his throat, reached for the glass of root beer Gail had poured for him.  "Everybody got a glass?" he asked.  Gail poured two more root beers and passed them to Jake and Eric.  "Okay then," Johnston continued, lifting his glass.  "To the lovely day, and to the lovely company," he toasted.  "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" they all echoed, tapping their plastic glasses together. 

Heather took a sip of her soda and then replaced the glass on the table.  Beneath the table she found Jake's hand and squeezed it.  He leaned over and kissed the tip of her ear.  "The very lovely company," he murmured. 

* * * * *

With obvious relish, Mindy placed the Hawaiian pizza down right between Jake and Eric.  "Looks good, doesn't it Jakey?" she said, flashing him a devilish grin.

Jake scowled.  "You know, I was planning to leave you a big tip," he grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at her.

"Actually this is worth getting no tip," Mindy giggled. 

"Don't worry, Min," Eric joked, "This is completely worth tipping for."  He pulled a slice off the tray, waving it at his brother before placing it on the plate April held out for him.  He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.  "All yours, doc," he grinned, winking at her.

"Thanks," April chuckled, setting the plate down on the table.  She held up another one.  "For Heather," she instructed.  Eric pulled another slice off the tray and plopped it on the dish.  April handed it to Heather, and then passed a slice of combination pizza to Jake for Gail.  "Sure you don't want some of ours, Jake?" she asked sweetly.

"You're all just too hilarious for words," he complained.  "Just eat your fruit pizza."

"You know," Grandpa announced then, "I think I'll try a piece, if you don't mind."

Eric pulled another slice loose.  "Sure thing, Gramps.  There's no fuddy-duddy in you," he declared, throwing his brother a pointed look.

"Jake," Heather murmured, leaning against his arm.  He turned toward her, only to be confronted by a chunk of pineapple, slightly pink from the pizza sauce, which she held between two fingers.  "Want some?" she giggled, moving the pineapple chunk toward his mouth.

"You're crazy," he snorted, barely managing to clamp his lips shut before she could get it in his mouth.  Instead, the still warm pineapple chunk brushed his lower lip.  He grabbed her wrist to push her hand away, but let go almost immediately, not wanting to hurt her.  "No th -" he started to say, only to have her pop the chunk of pineapple into his mouth. 

Jake's lips puckered as he grimaced in distaste, and for a second Heather almost expected him to spit the pineapple out.  Gail laughed, shaking her head.  "I haven't seen that look on your face since you were a year old and had a strong objection to strained peas."  Chuckling, Johnston nodded his agreement and reached for his wife's hand.

"Sorry," Heather murmured so quietly that, despite their close quarters, Jake was fairly certain he was the only one who heard her.  She looked very unsure of herself all of a sudden, and Jake couldn't help himself; he swallowed the pineapple chunk whole and then leaned over to kiss her again.

"I'll live," Jake mumbled against her mouth before pulling back.

Heather offered him a tentative smile.  "Not so bad?" she questioned hopefully.

Jake shook his head, shuddering slightly.  "Awful.  Worst thing that's happened to me today," he claimed, finding Heather's hand in her lap and lacing their fingers together. 

"You're just a big baby, Jake," April accused lightly.  "But a reasonably good sport," she added with a sigh, catching Heather's still somewhat stricken expression.

Gail swallowed the bite she'd taken and then cleared her throat.  "So, Heather," she started, smiling when the younger woman glanced at her.  "Do you have plans for Thanksgiving yet?"  Gail looked at her son.  Mentioning Thanksgiving was a calculated risk, but it was ridiculously obvious that they were a serious item.  Gail supposed that Jake might have wanted to ask Heather to Thanksgiving himself, and that he might be annoyed that she was stealing his thunder, but she hoped not.  He gave her a small smile, and she let out the breath she'd been holding, inquiring, "Are you going home to visit your parents?"

"No, I'm just gonna stay here," Heather answered.  "School's off for three days at Thanksgiving and three weeks for winter break, so it makes more sense to go home for Christmas."

"Then you're definitely spending Thanksgiving with us," Gail declared.  "Unless you already have plans?"

"Mrs. Crenshaw invited me back when school first started but -"

"Harriett won't mind if we steal you," Grandpa said, interrupting Heather. "Do you play football?"

"Uh, not really," she replied, her forehead wrinkling.  "But I'm sure I could if necessary," Heather chuckled uneasily.  "We have to play football on Thanksgiving?"

"Long-standing Green family tradition," Eric explained.  "You wanna eat, you gotta play."

"Okay," Heather nodded, leaning back into Jake's arm which was now draped across the top of her chair.  "I guess I'm in then," she grinned.

"You can be on my team," Grandpa proclaimed.  "Jake, too, of course," he added, catching his grandson's suddenly suspicious expression.  "Johnston can have April and Eric, and Gail you can pick where you want to be."

"Thanks, Dad," Johnston and Gail said in sarcastic unison.

Johnston cleared his throat.  "We'd be very glad to have you join us, Heather," he invited.

"Well, I'd love to," she declared, offering Johnston a shy smile.  "Thank you."

"And, the next day," April said, motioning for Gail to pass her a piece of the combination pizza, "We hit the mall in Rogue River.  First time in three years I have enough seniority to get out of working Thanksgiving weekend."

Heather laughed, picking up her own abandoned and cooling slice.  "Now that I'm definitely in for," she agreed.

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

After April had returned upstairs, Heather had cleared off the kitchen table, washing their coffee mugs and then leaving them on the sideboard to dry.  The coffee had helped to wake her up some, but she was still tired.   However, Heather knew if she were to lay down that she wouldn't be able to sleep.  As she'd told April, there was no way any of them would truly be able to sleep until Johnston was out of danger. 

Heather grabbed the lantern off the counter and returned to the dining room to check on her ice.  She was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that the endothermic reaction had stopped working, and all she had from her last round was slightly cooler water sitting in pie tins and cake pans.  Heather put herself to work cleaning up the remains of her ice-making efforts, taking the bowls of cooling solution through the kitchen and out into the backyard to dump it on the remains of Johnston's summer vegetable garden.  She didn't really know if it would do any good, but she figured it couldn't hurt.  She'd just returned to the dining room when she heard her mother-in-law calling her name from upstairs.

"I'm here, I'm coming," Heather yelled back, already moving toward the foyer.

"No!" Gail practically wailed from the top of the landing.  "Is there more ice?  We need more ice!" she demanded.  "His temperature's spiked again!"

Turning around, Heather hurried back to the cooler and lifted the lid, breathing a sigh of relief when she found that the ice inside was still frozen solid.  In three hours, she'd managed to almost fill the picnic-sized cooler, and with the ice packed in like it was it hadn't started melting.   She grabbed a bowl off the table and knelt next to the insulated chest, quickly scooping chunks of ice into it.  Her hand burned slightly where one piece froze momentarily to her skin, but she shook it off and, gripping the edge of a dining chair, pulled herself up.  "I've got it!  I'm coming!" she shouted to her mother-in-law.

Her foot had just hit the first stair when she heard someone struggling with the locked front door, shaking it in frustration as they searched for the keyhole.  Heather turned around in time to see Eric burst into the house.  Spotting her by the glow of the lantern in her hand, he asked, "Is he -"

"Barely," Heather admitted, surprised at the slightly hysterical note she heard in her own voice.  "Just hurry!" she ordered, stepping out of the way as Eric, and then a man dressed in blue scrubs, rushed past her.  Jake flew through the open door behind them.  "Jake!" she sobbed out, tears flooding her eyes.

"God!  Babe!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror.  "Dad -"

"No, no, he's, he's alive," she assured him quickly.  Sniffling, she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.  Jake was standing next to her now, and she turned to set the bowl of ice and the lantern on the pillar at the bottom of the staircase.  "He just - we got his fever down, and then it spiked again," Heather told him, her lip trembling though she managed, somehow, to keep the hysteria at bay.  "I was worried," she admitted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I know, I know," Jake crooned, cupping her head with both hands.  "I was worried, too," he admitted, expelling a deep breath.  He reached for her hand, finding it without looking.  "C'mon," he said, helping her start up the stairs.

They entered the master bedroom in time to hear April ask, "Did you get the Cipro?"

"This is Levaquin," Dhuwalia answered, pulling a vial out of the container of medicine Eric had handed off to him.  He found a hypodermic needle and inserted it into the bottle.

Jake, moving with Heather to stand next to his mother, saw April's eyes close.  A second later, she nodded.  "Oh, God!  I didn't - I was only thinking of the drugs we keep here at the clinic," she admitted.

"Are we in time?" Gail inquired then, her voice husky.  She glanced at Johnston, gasping a little, even now, at the sight of her husband dripping with sweat from his fever and laboring for each breath.   Next to her, Heather grasped her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  Gail returned the gesture, but her eyes never strayed from Johnston.

"Well, if his body is strong enough," Dhuwalia replied, handing the loaded hypodermic needle to April, "We'll know by morning."  Silently, she added the drug to Johnston's IV.

"He's strong enough," Gail murmured, studying her husband, willing him to recover.

Jake stepped behind Heather and his mother, wrapping his arms around them both.  Watching his father over their heads, he spoke softly.  "You're gonna be all right, Dad."

Gail reached out, touching Johnston's hand with the tips of her fingers.  "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart," she sighed.

No one said anything else for nearly half a minute, all their concentration devoted to Johnston and their prayers for his recovery.  Eric stepped closer to his father, and April moved to join him, though he ignored her presence at his elbow.  Dhuwalia glanced around the room, taking in each of their hopeful expressions, the raw need for this man's recovery that was so starkly evident in their eyes.  "It may take a few minutes," he informed them dryly, "Even a few hours."

April allowed the shakiest of laughs.  "That it will," she agreed, twisting to face Dhuwalia.  "Thank you, Doctor Kenchy," she sighed.

"It is Doctor Dhuwalia," he corrected, "But you may call me Kenchy, which is my first name, Doctor Green."

She smiled at him tiredly.  "April, please."  She looked at her mother-in-law.  "This is -"

"Our mother, Gail Green," Jake completed for her.  "And, this is my wife, Heather," he added, resting both hands on her shoulders.  "Kenchy was working at the hospital, and decided to come back with us," he told them, pressing his lips against the back of Heather's head.

"The hospital!" April exclaimed.  "How is everything - how is Doctor James?  And, Doctor Brunson?" she asked, looking expectantly between Dhuwalia, Eric and Jake.

"April, the hospital's no longer operational," Jake explained quickly before either of the other two could answer.  "Rogue River's been evacuated.  The water table's contaminated, and everyone's been moved -"  He paused and took a deep breath, tightening the arm he had around Heather.  "They've been moved to a FEMA-operated camp."  Jake didn't want to tell them, at least not yet, about the massacre at the Fillmore County Hospital, and he struggled to figure out what to say.  "The group - the company - hired to evacuate the hospital, they missed Kenchy," he finished, catching Dhuwalia's eye in the dim light.

"It's true," he agreed, offering Jake a slight nod.  "I had only been at the hospital a few days.  I was sent by the Red Cross as a volunteer," Dhuwalia chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head.  "I wasn't there for a week, and when Ravenwood came to evacuate, in the confusion, I was missed," he said, deliberately choosing the same word as Jake.

"Ravenwood!"  Heather twisted around, looking up at Jake.  "Not -"

""Yeah," he sighed.  "Not the same people of course, but the same company," Jake confirmed, his lips pressed tightly together.  "Same ethics," he muttered. 

Gail seated herself on the edge of the bed, Johnston's hand clutched in her own.  She glanced up at her son.  "What's Ravenwood?" she asked dully.

"Military contractor," he shrugged.  "I was investigating them.  Since February," Jake explained, hoping this was enough information to satisfy her curiosity.  "They came back to the hospital tonight, just after we got there, to loot the place.  Didn't seem to like finding us there."

"That's what you were doing in Iraq?" Eric questioned, scrubbing his face with his hand.  "You told Payton you were in Iraq."

Jake cringed at the mention of Randy Payton; he was definitely not ready to talk about the unfortunate man who had saved their lives, likely at the expense of his own. Nodding tiredly, he rested his head against Heather's.  "In Iraq, and in Afghanistan.  Ravenwood's corporate headquarters are in Boulder.  That's how I got involved.  Ten thousand employees, big sole source contracts with the Pentagon and Homeland Security," he listed.  "Nobody you want to have much to do with, trust me."

Heather really didn't know much about Ravenwood beyond her standard assumption that if Jake was investigating the company then they had to be up to no good, and the little bit she'd gleaned from the internet news articles - mostly boring business page blurbs about quarterly earnings or fluctuations in the company's stock price - which she'd signed up to receive whenever 'Ravenwood' was mentioned.  The company had taken her husband away from her for nearly eight months, and that alone was enough to convince her she wasn't a fan.  Jake had never said much about Ravenwood either, both because he didn't talk to her about the specifics of his job, and because, although he'd incorporated their marriage into his cover story so they could communicate freely, Jake had also told her they had to assume his email and phone calls were monitored by Ravenwood at least on some level.  Also, she couldn't help but remember the almost haunted look in his eyes the first few days they had been in Hawaii, or how it had taken him nearly a week to get into his typical sleep pattern.  Heather blamed all of it on Ravenwood and, she decided, they were the last thing she wanted to be talking about at nearly one in the morning while they waited for some sign that Johnston was going to recover.

"Well, I think -"

"Kenchy, my guestroom is always made up," Gail started, interrupting Heather.  She threw her daughter-in-law an apologetic look and continued.  "Old habits die hard, you know," she mumbled.  "And it's yours."

"I'll show you," Heather added, extracting herself from Jake's arms.  "Or - are you hungry?  I could get you something to eat first," she offered.  "Eric?  Jake?" she asked, glancing at her brother-in-law and then over her shoulder at her husband.

"I don't remember when I last ate," Dhuwalia admitted, frowning.  "I don't remember when I last did anything."  He faced April.  "I return our patient to your obviously more than capable hands."

Jake reached for Heather's hand, gripping it.  "I'll come with," he murmured.

She looked over at Eric.  "Nah, Heather, I'm good, thanks," he told her yawning.  "Not a comment on your cooking, either.  I promise," Eric said, attempting a smile.  He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up.

"Even I can't mess up eggs," she joked, rolling her eyes.  "If that's all right with you?" she inquired, glancing at Dhuwalia.

"Eggs?" he repeated, his eyes lighting.  "Real eggs?  I've been eating - I don't know what I've been eating."

"Well, these are real eggs," Heather smiled kindly.  "I collected them straight from the chickens this evening."  Jake hadn't exactly been thrilled by her demand that they move the chickens - Grandpa Green's evil, homicidal chickens which Heather had inherited - from the ranch to his parents' house in town, but even he had to admit that having an egg every once in awhile had made it worth the effort.

"Sounds perfect," Dhuwalia agreed, following Heather and Jake from the room.

At the foot of the stairs, Heather handed Jake her abandoned lantern and then picked up the bowl of ice.  Jake shot her a questioning look, but didn't say anything until they entered the dining room.  "What's all this stuff?" he questioned, holding the lantern up so he could survey the table. 

Heather returned the contents of the bowl to the ice chest and then set the empty bowl on the table.  "Your Dad's fever was really high.  April wanted to get it down.  She said we needed ice, and I remembered a science experiment, a way to demonstrate an endothermic reaction," she explained, shrugging.  "Ammonium nitrate fertilizer dissolved in water to make a cooling solution.  It'll suck the heat right out of a bowl of water, freezing it.  Well, as long as you use a metal bowl and not a plastic one," she qualified, "Since plastic is an insulator."

Jake chuckled and reached for her hand, drawing her into an embrace, unmindful of Dhuwalia's presence.  "You say ammonium nitrate fertilizer to me, and I don't think ice," he told Heather, kissing her gently and then resting his chin on her shoulder.  "I think you're gonna try to blow somethin' up."

"Yeah," she agreed, burying one hand in his hair.  "But that's the difference between you and me," Heather reminded, kissing his jaw.  "You arrest people, and I supervise the science fair."  She glanced at Dhuwalia then, catching his eye.  He was apparently trying to not watch them, but with little success.  He also looked dead on his feet. 

She stepped back, pointing Jake at the ice chest on the floor.  "Can you put that out on the back porch for me?  It's cooler outside, and we might as well keep it as long as possible.  Your Dad might still need it, right?" Heather guessed, looking at Dhuwalia, who nodded a silent confirmation.  "And, if he doesn't we'll find some way to use it tomorrow," she decided.  "We can make fresh, iced lemonade, if nothing else."

"Okay," Jake acknowledged, hefting the ice chest.  He followed Heather and Dhuwalia into the kitchen, continuing on to the back door.

Dhuwalia took a seat at the table, watching Heather by the lantern's light as she found a frying pan in a cupboard and then retrieved three eggs from a bowl of cold water on the counter.  "You may very well have saved your father-in-law's life with your ice," he observed, noting that fleeting look of embarrassment that crossed her face at his - in his own opinion - weak praise.

"I'm not a doctor like April, or a nurse like Gail.  I did what I could do, that's all," she shrugged.  "I love my father-in-law, and I want our child to know his or her grandfather."

"Of course," he agreed quietly, folding his hand on the table in front of him.  "When are you due, Mrs. Green?" Dhuwalia asked a few seconds later, surprising even himself with the question.  "It is only professional interest," he clarified, laughing at himself under his breath.  "Though, before everything ... happened," he decided with a sigh, "I should tell you that I was a plastic surgeon."

"First, please call me Heather," she invited, looking back over her shoulder at him.  "And, I'm due in April," she continued, cracking an egg on the side of the frying pan.  "That's according to Auntie April," she joked, breaking another egg.  Heather took a deep breath and, frowning softly, turned to face Dhuwalia.  "Are you married, Kenchy?" she inquired cautiously. 

Jake re-entered the kitchen in time to hear Heather's question, but didn't say anything.  Quietly, he locked the back door, listening for Dhuwalia's answer.

"No," he responded, shaking his head.  "If I were, I would not have gone with the Red Cross," Dhuwalia explained.  "My parents are rather traditional.  They would not accept me marrying any woman who was not Indian, and I happen to prefer blondes," he chuckled softly.  "I was in Las Vegas, in a surgical residency at University Medical Center.  None of my family lives in the States," he added with a shrug.  "So, I am not sure where I will go now."

"Is this coffee?" Jake inquired checking the pot, still warm to the touch, on the camp stove.

"April made it about an hour ago," Heather confirmed, starting to scramble the eggs with a fork.  "She says I can have one cup a day now," she grinned.

"Made your day, I'm sure," he teased, removing the coffeepot from the burner.  He turned, and almost ran into Heather who was carrying the frying pan to the camp stove.  Smiling wearily, Jake stepped around her to grab the two mugs that were sitting next to the sink.  "Want some?" he asked Dhuwalia, taking a seat at the table.

"No thank you," Dhuwalia replied, shaking his head.  "I would like to sleep tonight," he admitted.  "If that is still possible," he qualified so quietly that Jake wasn't entirely sure he hadn't imagined the words or just thought them himself.

Jake poured a cup for himself and then, out of habit, placed the coffeepot on the trivet in the middle of the table.  "You don't need to make any decisions yet," he informed Dhuwalia.  "You're more than welcome to stay here," he added, not mentioning that April would likely appreciate his help at the understaffed clinic.

Dhuwalia acknowledged the invitation with a slight nod.  "You are an investigator, Jake?" he questioned.  "A police officer?  FBI?"

"I was with the DEA," Jake returned, with heavy emphasis on the past nature of his employment.  He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee.  "Now I work for my family's survival."

"Yes," Dhuwalia sighed in agreement.  "That is all there is to work for now, I suppose.  But that does explain it then," he continued, his expression bordering on amused.  "You did not like it when I suggested that you should take the morphine to sell," he clarified. 

""I've busted up a coupl'a underground pharmaceutical distribution rings," he conceded, his words muffled by a yawn.    "And, you were right that Cipro doesn't have much of a street value," Jake added, forcing himself out of the chair.  In his exhaustion, he half stumbled across the kitchen to retrieve salad plates and then cutlery. "Except, maybe, during the anthrax scare," he shrugged, returning to the table with the dishes.  "No desirable side effects."

"True," Dhuwalia allowed, standing to help Jake set the table. 

The task was accomplished easily and then Jake, remembering his mother's propensity for saving unopened condiment packets, turned toward the junk drawer.  He pulled it open, and felt around inside, finding the squishy plastic packets - mixed in with capless pens, rubber bands, twist ties and all the other discarded yet potentially useful household paraphernalia - more by touch than by sight.  Once he had a handful of them, Jake returned to the table, placing them in the center.  "I like ketchup on my eggs," he explained to Dhuwalia as he started to sort the packets.

Heather brought the frying pan over to the table and began to dish up the eggs.  It was soon apparent to Jake that she wasn't planning to take any for herself, and so he grabbed the plate he'd set out for her and held it out.  "Join us."

"I'm fine, I've eaten," she countered, shaking her head.

"You cooked three eggs," Dhuwalia reminded.  "More than enough for us all."

She snorted softly in response, but dished some of the egg onto the plate after Jake insisted, somewhat grumpily, "Heather, have some."  She placed the frying pan in the kitchen sink and then took a seat at the table, picking up a few of the condiments packets that were still sitting in the middle of the table.  Jake had already squirted ketchup on his eggs, and Dhuwalia, she noticed, had doused his in taco sauce.  Heather found a mustard packet and, dropping the others back on the table, tore it open, squeezing the contents over her eggs.  "You are not," Jake protested.

"Why not?" Heather shrugged, reaching for the pepper shaker.  "It's kinda like making egg salad."

"For egg salad you need mayonnaise," Jake argued, though she could see a grin starting to manifest itself beneath the exhaustion in his expression.  He dug around in the pile of packets and, somehow, managed to produce one marked 'Mayo!'

"Yuck," Heather declared, making a face.  "I know mayonnaise in the jar doesn't have to be refrigerated until it's opened, but that," she said pointing at the mayonnaise packet Jake waved in front of her, "Is not natural.  Who knows how many years that thing has been floating around, suffering who knows what kinda temperature extremes!" she argued.  "It definitely falls under the category of dairy products and other things that they say don't need to be refrigerated even though we all know they really should be.  And I have a -"

"A phobia of dairy products that don't require refrigeration," Jake completed for her, stifling his urge to chuckle.  "I know.  Though," he added, "I hafta wonder if there's really any dairy in Cheez Wiz."

"Exactly!" Heather declared, peppering her eggs and then mixing the mustard in by breaking them up with her fork.

Shaking his head, Jake tossed the mayonnaise packet back into the pile.

Dhuwalia lips twitched as he fought a smile.  "Is it rude if I ask how long you have been married?"

Heather grinned, giggling softly.  "Yeah, we kinda sound like it must be forever, huh?" she returned.

"I assume you must've been a child bride," he said, giving into his smile.  "Now I am simply trying to determine to what extent."

Jake groaned at that, while Heather laughed outright.  "I can't wait 'til the day I stop being accused of robbing the cradle," he complained good-naturedly. 

"Well, that'll be a sad day for me," Heather countered with a laugh.

"I'm five years older," Jake informed Dhuwalia.  "It's not like I was driving or eligible to vote when she was born."

"But he does make the occasional pop culture reference that I just don't get," she teased, laying her hand over Jake's, squeezing it.  Heather looked at Dhuwalia.  "And, to answer you question, our fourth anniversary was in July."

"Then you were at least of age," Dhuwalia observed, chuckling, as he stabbed together a forkful of egg.

"And a little more," Heather confirmed, yawning.

Their conversation petered out then, and they finished the small meal in silence.  Heather stacked her empty plate on top of Jake's, and he reached for Dhuwalia's adding it to the pile.  Pushing back from the table, Jake carried their dishes to the sink.  "I'll show you to your room, Kenchy," Heather offered.

"Thank you," Dhuwalia murmured, standing.  He turned and walked into the dining room.

Heather faced Jake, smiling at him gently.  She reached for his hand.  "Time for bed," she told him, lacing their fingers together. 

Jake drew her into his arms, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her.  "Just remembered that I said I'd see you for breakfast," he said, his chuckle turning into a yawn.

"Why do you think I made eggs?" she asked, laying her head against his chest.

"Good thinkin'," he agreed, hugging Heather more tightly to himself for a moment before releasing her.  "You go upstairs," he instructed, caressing her cheek.  "I'm gonna clean this up," Jake explained, motioning at the dishes in the sink, "Then check the locks.  I'll be up in a few."

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

Sunday, October 28, five years before the bombs

Johnston raised his hand, signaling to Mindy who detoured to their table as she was making her way across the dining room.  It was nearly one in the afternoon and things were finally beginning to calm down at The Pizza Garden; finally there was no one waiting to be seated, and there were even a few empty tables ready to be cleared.  Johnston held out the pleather portfolio containing their bill.  "Here you are," he informed her.  "There's a tip in there for you to share with the busboy -"

"And, this is just for you," Eric added, passing a couple of bills, folded in half lengthwise to April, who handed the money to Gail, who then gave it to Mindy.  Gail had insisted that she and Johnston were picking up the tab for lunch, but if the rest of them wanted to give Mindy 'a big tip' she'd told them, she was happy to endorse their largesse.  "We'd've let Jake give it to you, but he's pretending that he's not speaking to you," Eric winked.  "That's for your pizza and beer fund."

"Eric!" Gail protested, "Melinda's only eighteen."

"Don't worry," Mindy laughed.  "Growing up here," she reminded, glancing around the restaurant, "I'm a little overdosed on pizza, and if I want beer it's pretty easy to get for free.  College boys in Kansas are so willing to share," she explained, rolling her eyes.

"That's pretty much college boys everywhere," Heather told her. 

Jake leaned back in his chair, staring at her, one eyebrow raised.   He was clearly trying not to grin.  "Now, the story I heard was that you're always the designated driver," he reminded, teasing.

She glanced at him, their gazes locking momentarily.  "Hey, I went to college," Heather shrugged.

"You've just blown Jake's mind," April declared, smirking at her brother-in-law.

Heather offered him a bemused smile.  "Well, I didn't say I ever took them up on the offer," she laughed.  "Just that they were offering."

"Well, thank you all," Mindy interjected, grinning widely.  "All right if I put it toward the textbook fund?" she questioned.

"I guess if you insist on being responsible," Eric joked. 

Jake stood up then, Heather following, their fingers loosely entwined.  When he got around the end of the table he dropped her hand, holding his arms open to Mindy.  They exchanged a quick hug.  "Take care of yourself," he ordered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You, too, Jakey," she returned, smiling, before stepping out of his embrace. 

"It's great to see you again, Melinda," Heather added softly.

"We're gonna go," Jake announced, glancing at his family who were all still seated.  He reached for Heather's hand again, adding, "See you at dinner."

"Six o'clock," Gail reminded and Jake nodded. 

"See you all tonight," Heather said over her shoulder, following Jake to the door.

Jake actually breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they were out on Main Street, and none of his family had found a reason to join them.  He looked back at them through the picture window which was done up with The Pizza Garden logo in the middle of the pane, and paintings of seasonally appropriate pumpkins and autumn leaves along the bottom and in the corners.  The Greens were all still seated and chatting amicably with Mindy.  Grandpa waved at Jake.  "Let's go," he snorted, groaning at himself.

"I'm sorry about the pineapple," Heather said in a rush of breath, pulling Jake to a stop after just a few steps.  "I don't know what got into me," she admitted, looking down at her feet.

Turning, Jake positioned himself in front of her so that they were almost toe to toe.  Cupping her chin, he forced her to look up at him.  "It's okay, I promise," he told her.  "It was funny.  Would've been funnier if it'd happened to someone else," Jake chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose quickly, "But still funny."

Heather frowned softly, her uncertainty evident in her expression.  "You're sure?"

"I'm starting to think that you and April are gonna be a dangerous combination," he joked, "But, yeah, I'm sure."  He looked back down the street toward the restaurant, surprised yet again that no one had come out of the restaurant.  "C'mon," he insisted, tugging on the hand he still held in his.  Nodding, Heather started to follow.  "But next week?" Jake continued, throwing her a lopsided grin, "We'll do something that my family can't horn in on.  Maybe we'll go for a hundred dollar hamburger," he suggested.

"Why in the world would you pay a hundred dollars for a hamburger?" Heather asked, looking up at him, her expression quizzical.  "And, even so," she added biting her lip, "I kinda agreed to do face-painting all next weekend."

Jake groaned as they started across the street.  "The Harvest Festival, right," he sighed, resting his hand gently on the small of her back.  "And the weekend after's Veteran's Day," he chuckled in frustration.  Perfectly in step, they mounted the curb, Jake glancing at Heather.  "I'm guessin' you want to go to the parade?"

"Gramps is marching with the Kansas state flag," she reminded, shrugging.  Grandpa Green was a past president of the local VFW and had been telling anyone who would listen of the honor being afforded him this year.  "And, your Dad's a veteran too, right?  I don't think I've ever gone to a Veteran's Day parade, and if I did, then I sure didn't know anyone in it.  I love that about Jericho," Heather said, smiling shyly.  "But the parade's on Monday, so my Sunday afternoon should be free."

"Right," he nodded.  They'd reached the corner of the church's lawn.  Jake looked down, checking Heather's shoes which were fairly dressy one and a half inch navy blue pumps to match the rather demure - but to Jake's way of thinking, still tantalizing - navy print dress she wore.  "We can cut across the lawn," he told her, pointing out the route, "Or walk up to the corner -"

"Lawn's fine," Heather agreed as she stepped onto the grass. 

"So, a hundred dollar hamburger is when you fly into a small airport, have lunch, and then fly home," Jake explained, leading her across the lawn, their hands joined.  They came upon a low-lying muddy patch and detoured around it, skirting the side of the church building.  "It's a hundred dollar hamburger because of what you spend on fuel and airport fees.  The hamburger's still regular priced.  I thought I'd take you flying," he said quickly, glancing at her to gauge her reaction.  "You know, if you want to."

Heather's nose wrinkled as she fought a grimace.  "How small of a plane?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

"It's Gramps' plane, a four-seater, five in a pinch," he described, studying her wary expression.  "You get airsick?" Jake guessed, surprised by the pang of regret that settled in his chest.  He'd only thought of taking her flying as they'd left the restaurant, and he'd hoped that Heather would be as interested in going with him as he was in taking her.

"I prefer bigger planes," she countered, frowning.  "That doesn't make much sense, I know, because why should a big airplane do a better job of staying up in the air than a little airplane, right?" Heather continued nervously.  "Plus, the smallest plane I've ever flown in is a twenty-seat prop plane between JFK and Buffalo." 

"We don't have to," Jake decided then.  They'd reached the sidewalk that ringed the church parking lot, and he pulled her to a stop.  "I just - I try to get some flight time in when I can.  Haven't been since September, after they grounded everything for that week," he reminded with a shrug, though Heather could see his disappointment in the set of his mouth.  "But, I can do that on my own," Jake assured her.  "I was doing crop dusting in July and August, really just to fly.  I'll find something."

"Any chance you were the crazy crop duster that scared the bejeebers out of me out near Stanley's, oh, the second week of August, probably?" she demanded, squeezing his hand and starting to giggle.  "I'm driving along, minding my own business, and suddenly there's this plane!"

"I spent most of two days on Stanley's place in August," Jake admitted, his grin sheepish.  "And, the second week sounds about right.  Didn't go to Denver at all that week.  C'mon," he invited, chuckling.  Heather threw him a somewhat disgusted look, though she couldn't really maintain it, and they crossed the nearly empty parking lot to her car, both laughing softly at their discovery.

"I - I don't know where my job is going," Jake sighed.  They were standing next to her car, and he'd stepped abruptly in front of Heather, startling her.  His tone was suddenly, almost painfully, serious, and he wouldn't meet her gaze.  "I'll stick with it through however this prosecution goes, and then I don't know."  Jake paused and unbuttoned the left cuff of his white dress shirt, rolling it twice.  "I always wanted to be a pilot, from the first time Gramps let me sit in the cockpit of one of his planes," he confessed.  "The first time he let me take the controls," Jake murmured.  "Well, that's what I thought I was gonna be."

"And, ten years ago, there was no way I ever thought I'd end up living home in Jericho," he laughed softly before expelling a shallow breath.  Jake stopped again, working on his other sleeve, his eyes downcast.  He had seen in her expression that she was surprised by his admission, and for that matter, Jake was too.  It was unusual for him to open up to anyone really, but from that first day they'd met, Jake's inclination had been to confide in Heather.  Looking up, over the top of her head, he focused on a stained glass window, high in the wall of the church, sparkling where the sunlight hit it.  "School breaks, fine," Jake continued, "And once I graduated, holidays to make my Mom happy, sure.  But nothing permanent.  Even last year, that wasn't really coming home, it was just doin' my job." 

Jake's eyes met Heather's briefly and he offered an obviously anxious smile.  "But since then - the way things have gone with work, the way things have gone the last few months in general, I -"  He stopped, folding his hands behind his back, only to change his mind and bring them forward.  Jake moved closer to Heather's car and concentrated for a moment on trying to straighten the slight bend in the antenna.  "I like being in Jericho.  Living in Jericho," he admitted, glancing at her again.  "Turns out everyone I - I care about," Jake explained, clearing his throat and smiling softy, "They're all here.  Even the ones who annoy me," he chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his charcoal slacks. 

Heather laughed along with Jake, a little self-consciously, before taking a deep breath and then releasing it immediately.  She recognized all of this as a delaying tactic, one that she desperately needed as she tried to digest everything that Jake had said.  Heather knew that his openness with her was a rare gift, one that she needed to cherish.  And, she knew that he was telling her that he cared about her, and maybe more.  Heather felt the same for Jake, although it seemed ridiculous to even think about it that way.  Everything she felt for Jake was so different than anything else in her experience that she didn't know how talk about it, especially to him.

"I know I haven't lived here any time at all," she started, biting her lip.  She studied Jake as he pulled one hand out of his pocket and ran it through his hair, wondering if she was saying anywhere near the right thing.  "And, when I moved here, I wasn't really thinking - I don't know - I wasn't thinking permanent," she decided, repeating the word Jake had used.  Heather looked down, examining the nails on her left hand.  "But I - I can imagine myself living here now.  For a long time."

She groaned then, blushing.  None of what she'd said had come out right, not the way she'd wanted it to.  Heather took a step toward Jake, capturing his free hand in her own.  "Jake," she sighed, all other words failing her for the moment.  Giving into an impulse, Heather pressed herself against him.  Jake stepped back, drawing her with him, and ended up sitting against the hood of her car.  She kissed him softly.  "So, when we go for our hundred dollar hamburgers, where do we go?" she asked with a shy smile.

"Wyoming," Jake chuckled, letting out the breath he'd been holding.  He gathered her to him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her neck.  "Rock Springs, Wyoming," he explained, pressing a kiss to the skin at the collar of her dress. 

"Wyoming?" Heather questioned, her tone skeptical.  Jake raised his head, reluctantly allowing her to step out of his embrace, though she held onto both his hands, their arms swinging between them.  "Isn't that kinda far?" she laughed.  "More like two hundred dollar hamburgers?"

"Maybe," Jake shrugged, tugging Heather close enough to kiss her again.   "Doesn't matter,"' he assured her.  "And, it's about a two hour flight.  There's a diner - not quite the truck stop, but still good - in walking distance of the airport. We fly up, have lunch, maybe walk around a little, and then come home."

"In time for dinner at your parents," Heather nodded.

"Might be ten, fifteen minutes late, but yeah," he agreed.  "So, it's a date," Jake decided, grinning at her.  "We'll leave right after church in two weeks."

"Uh, Jake," Heather began, an almost guilty expression settling on her face.  "About that.  I think I have a new requirement."

He laughed at her, his forehead wrinkling.  "You mean your requirements list for your boyfriend?" he teased, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth.  "Am I in trouble all of a sudden?"

"You're not in trouble," Heather protested, pulling away from Jake and throwing him a mock glare.  "Well, except, that you annoyed the heck out of me in church today," she explained, rolling her eyes.  "I can't do that again, Jake," she informed him.  "Seriously, I couldn't concentrate with all your fidgeting, and I've sat with my nieces and nephew in church.  So that's my new requirement.  Irregular church-goer."

"Irregular church-goer?" he questioned.

"Special occasion church-goer, then," Heather said, correcting herself.  "Like my Uncle Burt.  Uncle Burt only goes to church on Christmas and Easter.  Sometimes during Advent and Lent," she explained.  "You can come for Christmas, Easter, and Mother's Day, 'cause your Mom would like that," she decided.  "Weddings, funerals, baptisms.  Really, any special occasion," Heather clarified, "But not every week."

"So, basically, your requirement is that I should sleep 'til noon on Sundays," he joked.  "I think I can live with that."

"Church is out by eleven-thirty," Heather reminded.  "Get up a little earlier, and that way I'm all yours by noon," she flirted, leaning against him.

Jake laughed, enjoying the sight of the soft blush which touched her cheeks.  "All mine, huh," he murmured, pretending to consider the situation.  "Whatever will I do with you?" he rasped out, wrapping his arms around her.  Ever so gently, he massaged her lower back with the tips of his fingers.  "What to do, what to do," he sighed, tracing her hairline with a series of soft kisses.

Surveying the parking lot over the top of Heather's head, Jake spotted his mother's LeSabre, then Eric's Explorer, and finally Gramps' F-250, reminding him that his family would show up sooner or later.  He let go of Heather, clearing his throat.  "So," he began, grinning at her, "Since it's after noon, and we've established that you're all mine on Sunday afternoons," Jake teased with a playful leer, "What do you wanna do?" he asked.  "We could go riding out at the ranch for a coupl'a hours," he offered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hmmm."  Heather pursed her lips and stared, silently, at Jake for a few seconds.  "I'd like to," she agreed, "But Jake, I haven't been on a horse in years, and -"

"Hey, it's a nice, easy trail," he assured with a shrug.  "And, our horses are well-trained.  It's a chance to get out in the fresh air, see some of the area.  But only if you want to," Jake quickly qualified; he still wasn't completely sure he hadn't pushed her into agreeing to going flying with him.  "I just -"

Smiling, Heather nodded.  "I finished all my grading yesterday, and wrote out a week's worth of lesson plans," she told Jake, digging her keys out of her purse.  "So, I really am all yours today," she smiled, "I'd love to go riding with you."

"Okay then," Jake agreed, stepping out of Heather's way so she could unlock her car door.  "I'll follow you to your house, you can change, and then we can head out to the ranch."

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Jake had just finished washing the last dish when his brother stumbled into the kitchen.  "Hey," Eric greeted, yawning.

"Hey," Jake returned, shaking the plate in his hand to dry it before placing it on the sideboard and calling it good enough.

Eric dropped into the chair that Dhuwalia had vacated a few minutes earlier.  "Pickle relish?" Eric asked, fingering the stray condiment packet he'd spotted on the table in front of him.

"Didn't go with eggs," Jake shrugged, crossing from the sink to the table.  He started to pick up the unused packets, glancing at his brother.  Eric looked spent, and Jake couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't just gone to bed.  Maybe, like Dhuwalia, Eric was afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep.  "How you feelin'?" he asked, carrying the handful of condiments back to the junk drawer.

"Honestly?" Eric replied, his voice scratchy, "Couldn't tell you."

Jake moved back to the table.  He gripped Eric's shoulder tightly before taking the seat next to him.  "It'll be okay," Jake comforted flatly, letting out a deep breath and reaching over, clumsily, to cup the back of Eric's head.  "All right?" he demanded, catching his brother's eye.  Eric nodded.  Jake sighed, nodding along with him.  "You'll get through this.  You're a good person, by any yardstick," Jake assured, "So I know you'll be fine."

"I don't know how good of a person I am," Eric answered, his voice catching.  For a second, Jake almost expected him to start crying, and he shut his eyes, knowing, on this night especially, that was not something he'd be able to handle.  Eric didn't say anything for a long moment, fighting for control.  Finally, clearing his throat he started again, refusing to meet Jake's gaze.  "I'm in love with Mary Bailey," he murmured.

"God," Jake swore.  He didn't know what else to say, and certainly not once Eric turned to face him, his expression begging for understanding.

"You knew that, didn't you?" Eric chuckled sourly.

Jake didn't respond at all this time, settling for simply staring at his brother while he considered the situation.  He hadn't known, not for sure, that Eric loved Mary; he'd hoped, actually, that whatever was happening between them was some sort of meaningless dalliance.  He'd told Eric to make up his mind, to get over his paralysis, but the whole time Jake had been silently willing his brother to choose his wife.  Climbing out of his chair, Jake moved back to the sink and flicked on the tap, allowing the cold water to pool in his hands.  He splashed the water on his face, a futile attempt to wake himself up from the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours.  Finding a kitchen towel, he dried off, and then turned back around to face his brother.

"I'm gonna tell April," Eric announced, nodding to himself.  Jake couldn't help but think he'd been waiting for an audience.  "Life's too short, right?" Eric asked rhetorically.

"Whatever you do," Jake mumbled, "I'm sure it'll be the right thing."  It was a throw-away comment, one that Eric could take as he wanted, and Jake had no doubt it would be as an endorsement.  He also knew that there was no way in hell that his brother realized what he was about to do.  Eric might love Mary instead of April now, but he'd made April a part of their family when he'd married her, and that was going to be much harder to undo.  "Why doncha get some rest?" Jake advised, wondering idly if there was any chance a good night's sleep might change Eric's mind.

"You should too," Eric responded, standing.  "Cmon," he prompted.

Nodding, Jake dropped the towel he'd used back on the counter and followed his brother into the dining room.  Eric clapped him on the shoulder, offering him a relieved, almost pleased smile that did nothing for Jake's peace of mind.  They had just started up the stairs when Eric checked his back pocket and then his shirt pocket.  He stopped in his tracks.  "Where's my jacket?" he demanded.

Shaking his head, Jake faced his brother bleary-eyed.  "I dunno.  Did you leave it in the car?" he asked.

Eric drew a sharp breath, his eyes widening with dismay.  "Jake, I left my jacket back there," he confessed, the words tumbling out of him in a jumble.  "The wallet's in the jacket - the address."  He clenched both his hands into fists, mumbling, "What if those guys come here?"

"Nah, those guys are dead," Jake declared, immediately denying the possibility of a problem.  He didn't want to think about Ravenwood coming to Jericho.  He shook his head emphatically.  Payton took care of it," he insisted.  "Don't worry."

"I'm sorry I screwed up," Eric muttered, looking down at his feet.

Jake shook his head.  "You did great out there," he told his brother, surprised to find that he actually meant it.  Eric had been scared - they'd both been scared - but in the end he'd held it together, and they'd survived.  Any day that ended with everybody he loved alive and unharmed had to be considered a good day, these days, Jake figured.  "Get some sleep," he instructed.  "We'll worry about it in the morning."

The brothers studied one another for a long moment, Eric clearly struggling to believe Jake's assurances.  Doubt appeared to win out in the end, though he didn't voice it, nodding instead.  "Night," he mumbled.

"Goodnight," Jake returned softly, watching as Eric turned and, ploddingly, climbed the stairs.  He waited, listening as Eric entered there parents' bedroom to check on their father, and to bid their mother and April goodnight.  Only after he heard the snick of Eric's bedroom door closing did he move.

Jake checked the front door, locking it, and then, in the darkness, located one of the rifles they'd taken to Rogue River.  Entering the living room, he went to the window seat, adjusting the shutter so he could see out.  He surveyed the empty street.  Moving around the couch, he checked the rifle's safety and then clicked it off.  All thoughts of sleep forgotten, Jake took up the task of protecting his family.

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