The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 9A of ? by Marzee Doats

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

"Jake?" Heather yawned, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes.  "What - What time is it?" she asked, pressing the back of her hand over her mouth as she yawned again.  "What're you doin'?"

He was, in fact, rifling through the dresser for clothes.  Jake knew that he tended to get clumsy and careless when he was exhausted - as he was this morning - but he'd risked coming in to change anyway.  All night, as he'd sat up keeping his watch, he'd imagined that he could still smell the stench of the hospital, the gagging scent of flesh starting to decay.  The more he'd tried to chalk it up to his fatigue-fueled imagination, the stronger the sensation had gotten.  Finally, he'd given up, heading for the shower at the first hint of daylight and then sneaking into their bedroom to find clothes.  Jake couldn't bring himself to don what he'd worn the day before because, even though he knew it was irrational, he was convinced that smell had permeated everything he'd had on.

"Just gettin' dressed," he whispered, answering her over his shoulder.  Finding underwear and jeans, Jake pulled them on, and then made a lackadaisical attempt at tossing his towel toward the laundry basket, before running one hand through his still damp hair.  Grabbing a t-shirt and socks off the dresser top, he crossed the room, seating himself next to Heather on the edge of the bed.  "Hey," he grinned, cupping her face with both hands before bringing his mouth down on top of hers.  "Mornin'," Jake sighed.

"Good morning," Heather murmured, holding his hand in place against her cheek.  She glanced at Jake's side of the bed, which was undisturbed, before returning her gaze to him.  "You didn't come to bed," she yawned.  In the next second, her eyes widened, and she asked, a panicked note coloring her tone, "Your Dad's okay, right?"

"He's fine," Jake assured, finding his t-shirt where he'd dropped it and then pulling it on over his head.  "Still a little weak, but he's getting back to his old self," he smiled.  "Made Mom drag me in after I got out of the shower so he could yell at me about makin' noise too early," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.  "Wore him out so much that he had to go back to sleep.  Still, never thought I'd actually enjoy a lecture from my Dad," Jake joked.

"Well, it is early," Heather acknowledged, stifling another yawn.  She traced the line of Jake's jaw with two fingers.  "You've shaved," she observed.

"I have some things I need to take care of this morning," he explained, capturing her hand so he could place a kiss on her palm. "And, I'm sorry I didn't come up last night," he apologized.  "I just - Eric needed to talk, and then I fell asleep on the couch downstairs," Jake told her, forcing away the guilty feeling that threatened to overtake him for telling Heather even that one little white lie. 

"You and Eric talking?" she teased, grinning.  "Should April and I be worried?"

Jake looked away, sure that his face betrayed both his exasperation and shame over having been forced into keeping Eric's secret.  He cleared his throat, vainly trying to rid it of the tight lump that had formed there.  Taking a deep breath, he offered Heather a shaky smile.  "Well, I think we've got a lot more to worry about when it comes to you and April talking," Jake murmured, tucking her hair back, "Than you've got to worry about with us."

"That's probably true," she admitted, trying to loosen the covers where he'd pulled them tight by sitting down.  Heather started to move over on the bed.  "Jake you were up half the night.  Whatever you need to do can wait a few hours," she said, tugging on his hand.

Shaking his head, Jake turned sideways, his back to Heather, and pulled his socks apart.  "I need to -"

"It's what?  Six-thirty?" Heather demanded, kneeling behind him.  She snaked her arm around his waist, her hand finding its way under the bottom edge of his t-shirt.  She kissed the shell of his ear, and then the side of his neck, eliciting a groan from Jake.

"Closer to seven," he chuckled, letting his head fall back against Heather's shoulder. 

"Stay," Heather cajoled, pressing her lips to his temple, her fingers splayed across his stomach.  "You know you want to."

"Babe," Jake protested half-heartedly, dropping his sock so he could arrest her hand with his own.  He turned his head so he could see her eyes.  Heather smiled at him sweetly, obviously well aware of what she was up to. Shaking his head, Jake fought a grin.  "I really should -"

Sighing, Heather withdrew her hand.  "Is this about Jonah?" she asked, scooting around Jake so that she sat next to him on the edge of the bed.  "'Cause I forgot to tell you last night," Heather explained, leaning against his arm.  "Emily stopped by, and she'd gone out there to see him.  He gave her a cardboard box full of medicine.  Antibiotics.  There wasn't anything that April thought would work for your Dad unfortunately, but Emily also said that Jonah's agreed to your deal.  So see," she said, turning her head to kiss him, "Problem solved.  Nothin' to do but sleep in," Heather whispered against his mouth.

"Well, I'm good at that," Jake chuckled, resting his forehead against hers.  An hour before it had finally occurred to him that sitting up all night, waiting for Ravenwood to roll down the street was likely a waste of time.  His gut still insisted that they were on their way to Jericho, but there were a number of blink-and-you-might-miss-'em towns between Rogue River and Jericho to distract Ravenwood, and if they hadn't found Eric's wallet, it could be days or weeks before they arrived.  He was exhausted, and going to bed, wrapping himself around Heather, getting some sleep, it was all much too tempting to pass up.  "Okay," he agreed, pulling off the t-shirt he'd just put on.

"Good," she smiled, moving into the middle of the bed. 

Jake stood up and then slid under the covers, opening his arms to Heather.  She moved into his embrace, and he kissed the top of her head.  They both yawned simultaneously, and then laughed quietly in unison.  "Love you," he muttered, tightening his hold on her. 

* * * * *

An insistent, almost frantic tapping on the door yanked Jake out of his slumber.  He blinked blearily and tried to turn over to look at the window in order to gauge the time, but Heather's head had his arm pinned.  Groaning, Jake pressed a kiss to her shoulder, stroking his free hand over her gently rounded belly.  "Heather," he whispered.  "Babe."

"Wha?" she muttered, trying to roll over. 

Her movement was enough to free Jake's arm, which he realized had gone to sleep and was starting to tingle.  "Nothin'," he answered, yawning.  Flipping over, he gazed blankly at the window, watching the swirling dust motes that were picked up by the early morning sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.  He guessed that, maybe, an hour had passed since he'd come into the bedroom.

"Jake!"  He recognized his brother's anxious whisper from the other side of the door.  "Jake!" Eric repeated.

Allowing another groan, Jake worked to extract himself from the bed, struggling against the sheets and quilt that seemed to trap his legs.  Heather's eyes opened, and she rubbed them with the heel of one hand.  "Where are you goin'?" she sighed.

"T' kill Eric," he answered, just as his brother called his name again, louder this time.  Grumbling, Jake stumbled across the room and wrenched open the door.  "What?!" he demanded roughly, stepping out into the hallway, forcing Eric to back up, though not before he'd caught a glimpse of the rumpled bedding and Jake's discarded t-shirt laying on the floor.  Jake pulled the door closed behind him and then faced his brother with an annoyed glare.

"Uh," Eric said his eyes going wide as he started to turn red.  "Stanley's here.  Says he needs to talk to us.  I'm - I'm sorry."

"Right," Jake sighed, closing his eyes.  "Look, just give me a minute," he muttered, not bothering to correct his brother's mistaken impression.  Ducking back through the door, Jake scooped up his t-shirt and socks from where they'd fallen.  His boots were nowhere to be found, and he spent nearly a minute searching for them before he realized that they were still downstairs in the living room.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he pulled his shirt on, and then the socks.  "Hey," he smiled at Heather, watching her as she rolled over, burying her head in his pillow.

"Gotta go?" she sighed, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Maybe," Jake agreed, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.  "Stanley's here, but I don't know what's up.  Go back to sleep."

"'Kay," Heather nodded, yawning.  "But come back," she commanded, tangling her fingers with his, "If you can."

"I will," he promised, standing.  Out in the hallway, Jake was surprised to find Eric still there, waiting for him.  "What's up?" he asked, quietly closing the bedroom door.

"Listen Jake," Eric began, "I'm sorry about -"

"How'd it go with April?" Jake interrupted, cutting his brother off.  He took a deep breath, glancing at Eric as they headed for the staircase.  Jake was dreading the fallout he knew would come with Eric's announcement, but waiting for that shoe to drop was just as bad.  "Did you tell her about you and Mary?" he asked quietly.

Eric frowned and looked away, shaking his head.  "Didn't think it was the right time," he muttered.

"Yeah," Jake agreed, whispering.  April had been running herself ragged the last few days, caring for Johnston, and she'd almost completely abandoned her responsibilities at the clinic out of her loyalty to Eric and the rest of the Green family.  He cleared his throat, throwing his brother a pointed look.  "But, it's never gonna be."

"Sorry to come by so early," Stanley apologized as soon as Jake and Eric came into sight on the stairs.  "Sorry to drag you outta bed," he added with a nod at Jake's slight case of bed head.

"S'okay," Jake returned automatically, glancing around at their visitors.  Bonnie and Mimi, their coats still buttoned up, were standing in the archway leading into the living room, while Stanley waited between them and the door, obviously on guard.  "Bonnie, Mimi," he greeted, walking past the women and into the living room to search for his boots.  Looking back over his shoulder, Jake addressed his best friend.  "What's up?"

"Some guys showed up at the farm last night," Stanley answered, frowning.  He followed Jake into the living room, while Bonnie and Mimi moved to the fireplace to warm themselves, and Eric brought up the rear.  "Coupl'a humvees, guns," Stanley recounted.  He took a deep breath before adding, "They knew Eric's name."

"Ravenwood," Eric muttered, running a worried hand through his hair.  He glanced at Jake, who closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Who?" Stanley questioned, looking back and forth between the Green brothers.

Reflexively, Jake's hand clenched, though he didn't quite make a fist.  "Mercenaries," he answered flatly.  He sat down on the coffee table, quickly pulling on his boots.  "We ran into 'em in Rogue River."

"'Kay," Stanley acknowledged.  Standing, Jake strode across the room to retrieve his rifle from where he'd left it, propped against the wall, earlier that morning.  "What the hell do they want?" Stanley demanded, watching Jake as he moved to the front door and checked the street through the window.

Jake took a deep breath, allowing himself to think of Heather, safe for the moment, in their bed upstairs.  He was determined to keep it that way.  Turning, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands, he offered his friend a grim look.  "Everything."

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

Monday, October 29, five years before the bombs

Gracie's Market, like any small town, independent market, was an expensive place to shop, and Gail Green, like many of Jericho's residents only came into the store for incidentals - a gallon of milk or a pound of hamburger.  She did her bulk shopping during twice monthly trips to the Costco in New Bern, and she always went first to the Richmond farm stand for produce.  Over the years, Johnston's secretaries had grown used to her phone calls, a couple of times a week, asking that he stop in for bread or aluminum foil on his way home, and Eric and Jake as boys, once they'd been allowed to ride their bikes downtown, had fought over who would go when she'd tell them that there was no parmesan cheese for the spaghetti that night.

Today though it was Gail who ran into the market, in need of a can of pineapple for a cake she was making, cream of chicken soup - she'd only found cream of mushroom when she'd looked in the pantry - for a casserole, and bananas.  Exchanging hellos with Gracie, she grabbed a hand basket and started down the center aisle looking for the canned goods she needed.

"Uh-uh, no way," Gail heard from the next aisle over.  "We can't be known as the house with the bad candy."  She stopped, her hand on a can of soup, startled by the realization that it was Jake who was talking.  "And we definitely can't give out raisins!"

"Okay then, what qualifies as good candy then?" Heather - Gail recognized - returned, laughing softly.

"Anything peanut butter," Jake answered, predictably.  Gail, placing the soup can in her basket, caught herself smiling. 

"Reese's then?"  Heather said. "Butterfingers, if you like your peanut butter petrified.  But remember, this is for the trick-or-treaters, not for you."

Gail could hear a shrug in her son's voice.  "Might have some left over," he suggested.  "And we need those chocolate-covered marshmallow things."

"Yuck!" Heather declared.  "The only way I like marshmallows is in Rice Krispie treats."  Jake didn't say anything but Gail could guess at the excited look that must have crossed his face at her words.  A few seconds later, Heather was laughing.  "Find the marshmallows and the cereal and I'll make 'em for you," she offered.  "Those are easy."

It suddenly occurred to Gail that she was, in fact, eavesdropping.  That, along with the fact that the cereal was on the shelf behind her, sent her into a small panic, and she turned to hurry back down the aisle only to spot Sandra McVeigh, the elementary school principal, walking toward her, he mouth already open in greeting.  Gail threw her a wide-eyed look, waving her free hand to stop her.  "What's going on?" Mrs. McVeigh whispered, stopping next to her friend. 

Gail jerked her head at the shelf just as Heather said, "Everyone gets a jack-o-lantern sucker."

"Found marshmallows," Jake answered.  "I'll go get the cereal." 

"I've got math and spelling grading to do tonight -"

"Oh, I'll check the math, if that's what you're fishin' for," Jake interrupted, chuckling.   "You still have to do all that teacher stuff though."

"Absolutely," Heather agreed.  "Notes and stickers are on me." 

Gail could imagine Heather smiling at Jake, and she smiled herself.  "Jake and Heather," she murmured.  "I think I'm spying," she admitted, earning a gentle smirk from Mrs. McVeigh.

"Find the cereal," they heard Heather instruct Jake.  Gail grabbed Mrs. McVeigh's arm, dragging her down the aisle toward the back of the store. 

"What are we doing?" Mrs. McVeigh asked, laughing, as Gail pulled her toward the stockroom.

"Hiding," Gail answered, pushing the door open.  "If Jake knew I was listening in," she shook her head, not bothering to complete the thought.  She faced Mrs. McVeigh, astonishment evident in her expression.  "Jake's correcting homework?"

"Easy enough to do," Mrs. McVeigh shrugged.  "There's an answer key, and most teachers end up recruiting their spouses at some point, just to get everything done.  Heather's a bit ahead of the curve," she joked.  "But I could tell she was a smart cookie when I interviewed her.  I was glad she took the job."

"I really like her," Gail confessed.  She took a deep breath, adding, "But I'm trying not to push."

"Who needs to push?" Mrs. McVeigh asked.  "I swear I've seen more of Jake at the school in the last few weeks than I did his last semester as a student."

Gail laughed, but before she could respond Gracie Leigh came through the stockroom door.  She stopped short and stood, hands on her hips, studying them, a somewhat suspicious look on her face.  "What are you two doing back here?" she demanded.

"We're hiding from Jake and Heather - Miss Lisinski," Mrs. McVeigh explained.  "Gail was spying, but now she's afraid of getting caught.  I'm just along for the ride," she said, throwing Gail a quick grin.

"Miss Lisinski?  The new Mrs. Owensby?" Gracie questioned, earning nods of confirmation from the other two women.  "Why in the world do you need to hide from her?  For that matter, why would you be hidin' from your own son?"

"They're dating," Mrs. McVeigh replied before Gail could.  "And she's trying not to push."

"I see," Gracie returned, though her expression showed that she clearly didn't.

"Is it all right if we stay here, just until Jake and Heather are out of the store?" Gail asked.  Gracie's frown deepened.  "My husband's the mayor.  Sandy's the school principal," she added with a glance at Mrs. McVeigh.  "I think we can be trusted in your stockroom."

Gracie stared at them for a long moment before reluctantly conceding, "I suppose.  I'll send Richie back to let you know when they leave."  She turned, shaking her head.  "This is why I never had kids," she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Mrs. McVeigh looked at Gail.  "You do realize that as soon as we leave the store, Gracie will be telling anyone who will listen that we were hiding back here, and why."

Groaning, Gail nodded.  "Sorry to drag you into this," she apologized.

"It's all right," Mrs. McVeigh shrugged.  "I'm enjoying myself, actually," she admitted.  "Now, I hope you and Johnston are still coming to the Halloween parade at school on Wednesday.  The kids do love it when the mayor hands out the costume prizes."  She grinned.  "You'll probably run into Jake, too."

"We'll be there," Gail promised.  "We're looking forward to it, like we do every year.  Johnston grumbles, but he has a good time.  Of course, it's getting harder and harder to recognize even half the costumes anymore."

"Have grandkids," Mrs. McVeigh suggested.  "Then you'll know your Barbies from your Auroras from your Cinderellas."

Gail shook her head.  "I'm not pushing, remember?"  She took a deep breath, offering a distracted smile.  "This year at least, by going to the Halloween parade, Johnston gets to put off an inspection of the new landfill for a day.  He's rather grateful."

"Glad to be of service!" Mrs. McVeigh laughed.

"So," Gail began, a few moments later, obviously trying to sound nonchalant.  "Jake's at the school a lot?"

"Enough," Mrs. McVeigh nodded, motioning for Gail to follow her.  They walked to Gracie's small office area, where they found two chairs.  "He's been coming on Thursdays to help with your father-in-law's presentations to Heather's class.  Those have been phenomenal by the way," she explained, smiling.  "And, of my staff of twenty, all of us from Jericho or at least having lived here for a very long time, none of us ever thought of asking the former mayor to do that.  We really needed Heather's fresh perspective, let me tell you," she sighed. 

"Otherwise," she continued, "Jake isn't really there when the students are, but he does come by most evenings to walk her home, so to speak," Mrs. McVeigh joked.  "Follows her home, anyway.  Soon as it's four o'clock, he's wherever she is.  Trust me," she chuckled, "Their little romance has us all watchin'.  Not that everyone approves," Mrs. McVeigh admitted, "But they're all still watching.  Harriett's practically sending a daily email update.  I'll have her add you to the distribution list if you want."

Gail laughed, a smile blooming on her face.  "Well, I don't suppose that could in any way be construed as pushing," she decided, shrugging.

"In no way, shape or form," Mrs. McVeigh confirmed.  "It's purely observational."

The stockroom door opened again, and this time a confused looking Richie Dawes stepped through.  "Uh, Mrs. Green, Mrs. McVeigh," he called out, inching toward them.  "Mrs. Leigh said to tell you that the coast is clear, and that Heckle and Jeckle have flown the coop."

The two women burst into peals of laughter.  "Huh," Mrs. McVeigh mused, "Who knew Gracie had an actual sense of humor."

Still giggling, Gail stood up, nodding at the befuddled teenager.  "Thank you, Richie," she grinned.  "We'll just get out of your way."

"Oh - Okay," Richie agreed.  He waited, following them out of the stockroom, apparently under orders to ensure that they actually left.

Mrs. McVeigh squeezed Gail's arm.  "Thanks for the entertainment," she teased.  "I'll see you on Wednesday."

Nodding her agreement, Gail turned in the other direction, headed for the produce aisle to pick out bananas.

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Gail Green carried the tray she'd prepared for her husband into the dining room.  From upstairs - coming down the stairs, she realized - Gail heard her daughters-in-law laughing at something.  She smiled.  Although she knew it had been a matter of hours - a day, perhaps a day and a half - it still felt like forever since the house had heard that sound.  Johnston's illness, his near death, had cast a pall over the Green residence, but now that was dissipating.  Gail was starting to feel that she could breathe easily again. 

She met April and Heather at the foot of the stairs. "I thought I could get Johnston to eat somethin'," Gail explained, smiling.

"No, it's better to let him sleep," April contradicted, putting her arm around Gail's shoulders.  Heather stepped forward and insisted on relieving her of the tray she carried.  "Let his body adjust to the meds," April ordered, steering her mother-in-law back toward the dining room.

"Okay," Gail sighed, leaning her head against April's arm.  She frowned softly, repeating herself.  "Okay."

April smiled, glancing between Gail and Heather.  "You ready for some more good news?"

"Are you kidding?" Gail demanded as she slipped out from under April's arm, spinning to face her daughter-in-law, her eyes full of hope.

April and Heather exchanged a glance, both grinning widely. "His blood pressure's stabilizing and the fever seems to be resolving," April announced.  She took a deep breath, and released it.  "I think he's gonna be okay."

Gail heaved a sigh of relief, and began making inarticulate, happy noises.  "Well, that calls for a real celebration!"  She glanced at Heather, standing to her right, examining the tray she was now holding.  "How about some mashed black-eyed peas?"

"So that's what this is," Heather said making a face.

April grimaced too, squeezing Gail's shoulder as she moved past her and into the dining room proper.  "None for me," she assured.  "It hasn't been a particularly good morning, if you know what I mean."

"I can't even claim morning sickness anymore, and I can't say I find this very appealing," Heather admitted, setting the tray down on the table.  She threw Gail a guilty look.  "Sorry."

"Quite all right," Gail laughed.  "Much better in soup," she conceded, slipping into the chair across the table from April.  Smiling, Gail laid her hand over April's.  "It'll be worth it in end."

"How long we've waited?" April returned.  "I could throw up every day for the next year, and it would be worth it.  Of course," she allowed, sighing, "It could be the nerves as much as the pregnancy."

"Nerves?" Gail questioned.  "You didn't tell Eric yet?"

"April!" Heather scolded, dropping into the chair next to her sister-in-law.  "You have to tell him."

"I know.  But he was just so exhausted last night," she murmured, hugging herself.  "And then he was up and gone before I had the chance."  She looked between Gail and Heather.  "Any idea where he went?"

Heather groaned, shaking her head.  "Eric woke Jake up just before eight, maybe?" she guessed.  "Stanley was here, and he needed to talk to them about something."

"Probably needed their help," Gail decided, smiling at April.  "See?  Mystery solved.  But tell him!" she ordered, squeezing her daughter-in-law's hand.  "We need this.  Eric needs this."

April nodded, offering up a weak smile.  "Well," Heather began, watching her sister-in-law closely, but addressing Gail.  "You haven't heard our plan yet," she grinned.  "April and I have agreed," Heather explained.  "And, we're both going to have little girls."

"I do believe that has all been decided without either of your input, so to speak," Gail chuckled.  She motioned toward the abandoned tray.  "Would you mind handing me that?" she asked Heather.

Making a face, Heather passed her mother-in-law the bowl of mashed peas.  "Well, true.  And, in the end, all I care about - all we care about," she amended with a quick look at April, "Is having healthy babies.  But it's still fun to think about."

"Exactly," April confirmed, shaking her head.  "And, you can't tell us you aren't just itching to make dresses," she teased Gail.  "And think of all the fluffy, pink sweaters they'd need."

"I do have a sweater - yellow though - half finished upstairs," Gail admitted, poking at the bowl's contents with a spoon.  "And, I've got a couple of skeins of pink tucked away, just in case," she continued.  "But, don't forget, the Green family tends toward boys."

"Just in this - our - generation," Heather argued.  "Gramps had two sisters, right?  And a daughter as well as a son," she reminded, sitting back in her chair.  "His little Susie.  She was practically all he talked about at the end.  He couldn't wait to see her again, even more than his Betsy."

"He forgot my name," April recalled, biting her lip. "Started calling me Susie."

"Me too," Heather confirmed.

"He called me Betsy," Gail murmured quietly.  "Rather ironically," she added, pushing the bowl of peas away.  She had to agree with Heather; it wasn't at all appealing.  "But you're right, on both counts."  Gail frowned, trying to remember.  "Marilyn and Judy, I think.  EJ's sisters," she clarified.  "Neither ever married, oddly, though I think one of them had a fiancé who was killed somewhere in the Pacific during World War Two.  And, there was Susie."

Johnston rarely spoke of his baby sister, and his father had been just as reticent when it came to talking about his young daughter, who had died at just six years old.  Gail had been engaged to Johnston for nearly three months before she'd first heard mention of Susan Green.  To say that Betsy, Johnston's mother, had been displeased to learn of their engagement had been to completely understate her feelings.  Johnston, preparing to return to Fort Benning for Ranger School the Monday after Thanksgiving, had proposed on the Sunday before.  Although he'd immediately informed his mother that he was engaged – and that he would be attending Thanksgiving dinner with his fiancée's family – Betsy had taken her son's subsequent absence as an opportunity to ignore Gail's existence.  But, two and a half months later, with Johnston home on leave and preparing to ship out to Vietnam, even Betsy was forced to acknowledge that Gail wasn't going away.  So, when EJ had put his foot down, insisting that they had to have Gail and Johnston to supper, she'd agreed reluctantly.  The evening had been strained to say the least.

Gail found herself grateful anew over her easy relationship with both her daughters-in-law, recalling the friction that had existed for years between Betsy and herself.  Sighing, she glanced between them both.  "Did you ever hear the story of Susie's cat?" she asked. 

"I don't think I have," April replied, while Heather shook her head 'no'.

"Susie's cat was Susie's cat," Gail began, chuckling at the absurdity of her statement.  "She had another name of course, but I never heard her called anything but 'Susie's cat'.  Johnston and I had our first fight because of that cat," she admitted.  "His mother didn't like me, so she ignored our engagement for as long as she could.  But then, he was leaving for Vietnam, and I suppose she had to do something.  She gave in enough to have him bring me to dinner."

"The start of the Green family dinners," Heather grinned.

"Well, they were a little different when Betsy was in charge," Gail chuckled, shaking her head.  "I must've spent four hours trying to get ready for that dinner - and this in spite of the fact that I knew it was nearly a two hour drive from Rogue River to Jericho, so the chances that my dress would stay clean and pressed were almost nil.  But I knew she didn't like me, and I wanted to win her over any way I could," Gail sighed.  "Now, that day my sister Bridget was at Nightingale Hall - that was the nurse's dormitory, back in the old days," she explained.

"Aptly named," April laughed, rolling her eyes.  "The senior nurses used to tell stories.  Never seemed fair that the doctors didn't have to live in a dorm."

"Didn't need one for the doctors.  Nightingale Hall took care of protectin' the nurses from the doctors!" Gail claimed with a snort.  "Some of them were quite grabby, but with all the unmarried nurses and nursing students in the dorm with a curfew, well, it cut down on some of the extracurricular activity, anyway," she shrugged.  "But as I was saying, for some reason Bridget was there that afternoon.  She was fifteen, and quite the brat.  Jealousy was part of it," Gail conceded.  "She wasn't happy unless she was the center of attention, and having an engaged older sister was just an annoyance to her." 

Laughing softly, Gail looked down at her rings, recalling a long-forgotten memory.  "You know, it was Bridget who, the first time she saw my engagement ring, said that the diamond would be a diamond only if I allowed it to grow a little."  She paused, rubbing her finger over the familiar stones in the ring.  The original diamond was there, along with two others.  Johnston had insisted on giving her a new ring for their tenth wedding anniversary, and Gail had insisted that her 'little diamond' be reset in that new ring.  "It's the tiny one," she explained, taking off her engagement ring and passing it to April.  While her wedding ring never left her hand for longer than it took to wash a sink full of dishes, Gail had only worn her engagement ring sporadically - mostly on special occasions - for years.  But when she'd spotted it in her jewelry box a few days before, she'd given into the impulse to put it on and hadn't taken it off since.  "Bridget was right, much as I hate to admit it," she smiled.  "That's a baby diamond.  But it was from Johnston - really more than he could afford at the time, I knew - and that was what mattered."

"Awww!" Heather and April said in unison, grinning at Gail.  "But what about Susie's cat?" Heather prompted, returning the ring to her mother-in law.

"I got sidetracked," Gail admitted with a shrug.  "Anyway," she started again, "After Jenny - my roommate - and Bridget had finished my hair and finally given their approval to my dress, I probably only had five minutes to spare.  Johnston was on time, of course.  He'd been back from Fort Benning for a week, and he'd driven every day from Jericho in his Rambler convertible to see me." 

"Johnston had a Rambler?" Heather interrupted.  "How come I didn't find that out at the ranch?" she complained jokingly.

"That was a good car," Gail agreed.  "Fun to ride in.  But we sold it before we moved back from Lawrence.  It seemed sensible at the time.  Anyway," she continued after a short pause, "He'd come to Rogue River every day.  I don't know exactly what he did while I was in class or on duty, but whenever I popped into the cafeteria, he was there," she laughed, enjoying the trip down memory lane.  "And every night, he'd take me to dinner, and maybe a movie - it was February, so we were forced to stay inside - and then he'd get me back to the dorm at two minutes to ten so that I wasn't breaking curfew," Gail smiled.  "Afterwards, he'd drive home to Jericho, every night."

"Awww!" Heather and April repeated, breaking into giggles.  Gail laughed along with them.  "So how'd your dress fair?" April asked.

"Oh it was a wrinkled mess by the time we got to Jericho naturally," Gail admitted with a dismissive wave of her hand.  "Not that it mattered.  Dinner was tense, and the only way I would've made Betsy happy that night was if I'd suddenly turned into Susannah Lawson.  We only stayed for two hours, and when we got back in the car, that's when I put my foot in it," she sighed, her expression turning sheepish.  April and Heather exchanged a questioning look, but let her continue.  "We weren't out of sight of the house before I let Johnston have it over that cat."

"Susie's cat," April interjected.

"Yes.  Susie's cat.  Only I thought it was Susannah's cat," Gail explained.  "The cat had had an abscess, something like that, removed earlier in the week, and all three of them were worrying over it.  It was 'pass the potatoes, and did you give Susie's cat her medicine?' all night.  I bit my tongue while we were with Johnston's parents, but I was rather hurt, and I demanded to know how he could be so... so... insensitive to the fact that his mother was keeping his ex-girlfriend's cat, and then join in the talk about it all through dinner while I was there!"

Heather covered her mouth with her hand, groaning.  "Oh no," she muttered.  "This can't be good."

"Definitely not," April nodded, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.  "Wow.  If that was your first fight - that's almost as bad and Heather and Jake," she chuckled, rolling her eyes.  She glanced at Heather.  "You kept insisting that you were over just be -"

"We really don't need to discuss that," Heather grumbled, shaking her head.  "So, what did Johnston say?" she asked, pointedly returning her attention to her mother-in-law.

"Well, first he stopped the car," Gail sighed.  "It was dark, but I could see his face and he looked so hurt.  Hurt and stunned.  Then, he very simply, in that calm, Johnston Green way of his, said, 'Susie's cat, not Susannah's.  Susie.  My sister.  She died nine years ago.'"

"Ouch," April winced sympathetically.  "What did you say after that?"

Gail let out a held breath, laughing soundlessly at herself.  "If I'd been smart I would have just apologized right then and there and, after that, asked him to tell me about Susie," she acknowledged.  "But, my mother always did say that out of all her children I had the Irishest of tempers."  Gail's expression turned sheepish, and she cleared her throat.  "Now, I'd written to Johnston three times a week the whole time he was gone to Fort Benning, and he'd write back once, maybe twice, each week. Plus, he always phoned me at eight on Saturday night.  It was a good time to call since most of the other girls were either on duty or out for the evening, and the pay phone was always free.  I'd have dinner at my parents' house and then rush back to the dorm to wait for Johnston to call.  We could talk for twenty minutes and it was the highlight of my week," she smiled.  "But he hadn't ever told me that he'd had a sister, and I was too worked up to think about why, maybe, that was."

"You accused him of lying, didn't you?" Heather asked, her nose wrinkling as she offered her mother-in-law an understanding smile.

"Yes, I did," Gail declared, shaking her head.  "And Johnston, well, I don't think he knew what to do, truth be told.  I was eighteen, he'd only just turned nineteen - we were babies, really.  It was 1966, Johnston was leaving for Vietnam, and I didn't even know where that was, really.  Certainly not enough to be worried," she sighed.  "But anyway, he started the car - didn't say a thing - and we were on our way back to Rogue River.  The radio was on, and every song....  It was like the DJ knew exactly how to torture me.  I remember, This Diamond Ring played, and I was staring down at my hands.  I had gloves on - you wore gloves when you went visiting back in those days," Gail chuckled.

"The good old days," Heather teased.

"Exactly," Gail smiled.  "I had gloves on," she repeated, "But I could feel the ring on my finger, beneath the glove.  It just made me worry that Johnston would call our engagement off when we got back to town.  I think after that it was Chapel of Love, and then You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'.  I always hated that song after that night, so naturally I disliked Tom Cruise over a decade before it was the popular thing to do."

Giggling along with Heather, April grinned.  "You were just ahead of your time."

"Maybe," Gail nodded.  "But then... ah, then," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over her.  "I Want To Hold Your Hand came on the radio and Johnston reached over and took my hand."

"Oh my goodness," Heather sighed, "You must have been so relieved."

"So relieved that I burst into tears," Gail returned, laughing.  "Poor Johnston, he had to pull the car off the highway.  He gave me his handkerchief, and I mopped myself up.  I apologized of course.  By then I was just so embarrassed by the whole horrible evening."  She smiled, staring unseeingly past Heather and April.  "He kissed me," Gail blushed softly, her focus returning to her daughters-in law.    "And then he told me about Susie.  I didn't get the whole story that night, that took a while, but anyway.  This is the story of Susie Green and her cat."

"About a month before her sixth birthday," Gail said, starting the story, "Susie started a campaign for a cat.  Well, a kitten.  Apparently she was very specific.  She wanted a tortoiseshell calico kitten she could call 'Dandelion'.  Johnston said he and EJ kept teasing her that she wanted a 'dandy lion'."

"Now that sounds like Gramps," April laughed. 

Gail nodded.  "Yeah, I'm sure that was him.  Remember, Johnston was ten, so probably not quite that witty," she chuckled, continuing.  "But I guess Betsy was against the cat.  She thought Susie was too young to take care of a pet on her own.  But then, one of the barn cats had kittens, and one of them was exactly to Susie's specifications.  Johnston found them first, and hid 'em away in the barn where Susie couldn't find them. She knew that cat was gonna have kittens, and she was beside herself when it disappeared.  Johnston told EJ about the cat, and he went to work on Betsy, who finally gave in.  So," Gail smiled, "Early in the morning on her birthday, Johnston went down to the barn and took the kitten from the mama cat, tied a ribbon 'round it's neck - said he got scratched for his trouble - and put it in a basket that he left on Susie's chair.  She found it when she came down for breakfast.  She was so excited, and Johnston was so proud of himself, even nine years later.  He rather adored his little sister."

"That's so sweet!" Heather declared.  "I love my brothers, but they always did things like pull the heads off my dolls."

"Johnston was a good big brother," Gail sighed.  "Anyway, the kitten was only a few weeks old, so EJ made them take it back to its mother even before breakfast.  Johnston said Susie would go visit her kitten four or five times a day, as often as their mother would let her."  She paused, her expression turning serious.  "Susie came down sick just before the Fourth of July.  They didn't think it was anything serious, just put her to bed and looked after her.  Johnston even went off to scout camp.  But, Susie took a turn for the worse.  Her sore throat was strep and it went into rheumatic fever.  She ended up in the hospital in Rogue River," Gail murmured.  "Died there.  EJ had to retrieve Johnston from camp for her funeral.  And, when he got home, the kitten was finally old enough to leave its mother, so Johnston brought it into the house." Gail offered them a sad smile.  "Susie's cat was the sweetest animal I ever knew.  She lived to be seventeen - I was pregnant with the boys - and for Johnston and EJ and Betsy, when she died, well, they lost the last bit of Susie that they had." 

Heather looked stricken.  "How awful!" April muttered, her eyes bright with tears.  She wiped them with the back of her hand.  "I knew that she'd died but -"

"Well, it's not something that Johnston or EJ ever talked about," Gail assured.  "I wouldn't have expected you to know.  I don't know that Jake and Eric know, actually."  She took a deep breath, folding her hands on the table before her.  "It's a little embarrassing to admit, but knowing what had happened made me feel better.  I could chalk Betsy's dislike of me - her preference for Susannah Lawson - up to the coincidence of their similar names.  And, I'm sure the fact that I was training in the same hospital where her daughter died didn't win me any points.  It gave me some patience with her that I sorely needed.  Hopefully that doesn't make me an awful person."

April shook her head.  "I don't think so."

"Not at all," Heather answered.  "Does make me glad that you hadn't decided Jake should marry Emily Sullivan, though," she sighed.

"I've - mostly - always liked Emily, but Jake made the right choice," Gail said, smiling.  She reached across the table, laying one hand over Heather's and then the other over April's.  "And so did Eric," she added.  "I certainly lucked out in the daughter-in-law department, and now in the grandma department, too."

"Girls," Heather nodded.  "We're goin' for girls."

"Exactly," April laughed.  "But that's just between us.  No reason to get the guys in a tizzy," she joked.  "So, after Johnston told you about Susie, what happened next?" she inquired, grinning knowingly.

Gail chuckled, shaking her head.  She withdrew her hands and sat up primly in her chair.  "I kissed him," she allowed, actually sounding a little bit embarrassed by her admission.  "How could I not?  Then," she sighed happily, "We drove back to Rogue River.  Curfew was eleven on Saturday nights, and we had time so we decided to go to the drive-in.  After that, he took me home."

"You went parking!" April accused, her eyes dancing in amusement.

Heather hit her sister-in-law on the arm.  "April!" she complained, "Don't!  That's like thinking about my parents making out."  She glanced at Gail, adding, "No offense."

"Let's just agree that I won't tell you any of my make out stories, and you won't tell me any of yours," Gail laughed.

"Deal," Heather returned, giggling.

"Skipping anything that may have occurred at the drive-in," Gail continued, straightening in her seat, "Johnston took me home.  We were ten minutes late, and I told him he didn't need to walk me in, but he insisted.  I knew that I was going to get a demerit from Mrs. McCormick, the house mother, but I could afford one, and I didn't want Johnston to know I was getting one."  She paused, shaking her head.  "What I didn't realize, though, was the power of the Green name in west Kansas.  I grew up in Rogue River, and I hadn't heard of the Greens, but Mrs. McCormick had.  EJ had helped her brother out of a jam fifteen years before, somehow.  Now, she'd heard I was engaged, but when it turned out I was engaged to Johnston Green, she couldn't shove that form away in the desk fast enough." 

Gail made a frustrated noise, rolling her eyes.  "All he had to do was introduce himself, smile, and tell her that it was all his fault, he'd taken me up to Jericho to have dinner with his folks, and he was very sorry to have me back late.  To be honest, I was a little annoyed.  Mrs. McCormick couldn't keep from fawning over Johnston," she chuckled.  "She said it was long drive back, and it was more important to drive safely than to rush for curfew.  I'd never heard anything like that come out of her mouth before," Gail sighed.  "And Johnston had already figured out he could do no wrong in Mrs. McCormick's eyes.  He even kissed me good night one more time before he left.  She just smiled and giggled and sent me upstairs.  Even more ridiculous was that, when I got to my room, Jenny took one look at me, pointed out the rather obvious hickey I was sporting, and asked how in the world I'd gotten past McCormick with that thing."

"Stop!" Heather ordered, groaning and holding up her hand.  "That's a make out story.  Off limits!"

"Sorry," Gail grinned unapologetically. 

April, laughing along with her mother-in-law, threw Heather a rather devilish grin.  "I remember a few weeks when you wore nothin' but turtlenecks, rather unseasonably, I might add."  Heather, already crimson, settled for shaking her head, which they took as a cue to laugh harder.  Sighing, April reached for the abandoned bowl of black-eyed peas, testing the temperature with her pinky finger.  "If you want to heat these up a little, we can see if our patient's up to having something to eat now," she informed Gail.

"If he needs sleep, we can let him sleep," Gail returned, her tone doubtful.

"He'd never admit it, but he likes the fussing, too," April smiled, pushing off the table in order to stand up.  "I should check on him, anyway."

"And I think I'm gonna walk downtown," Heather announced, climbing to her feet.  She took a deep breath, fanning herself, the blush beginning to fade from her cheeks.  "I have an errand to run.  Can I do anything for you two?" she asked.

Gail and April both shook their heads 'no'.  "What's your errand?" Gail inquired.

"That's a surprise," she answered.  "Besides, the chances it'll work out aren't that great, but I'm gonna try anyway.  I'll be back in a little bit," Heather assured.

"Okay," Gail agreed, already turning toward the kitchen.  "But you know, no one's been out to the ranch in three or four days," she said, frowning.  "If Jake and Eric don't show -"

"I'll go with you as soon as I get back," Heather offered.  "I haven't been out to see Baron in over a week.  I wanna check in on my puppy," she admitted, frowning for affect.  She looked at April.  "Or do you want to go?"

"Your puppy weighs nearly a hundred pounds," April laughed.  "And, I'm happy to stay here and hold down the fort," she continued, resting her hand over her still-flat abdomen.  "I'm feelin' like I should stick close to home."

Gail nodded her agreement.  "We'll leave when you get back," she decided, looking at Heather.  "I've even got some scraps I've been saving for your puppy," she smiled.  "Now be careful downtown," she admonished.  Gail glanced between her two daughters-in-law, beaming at them.  "That goes for both you, from here on out.  Those are my grandchildren you're carrying, and I have a vested interest."

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

Monday, October 29, five years before the bombs

Jake sidled up behind Heather, wrapping both his arms around her waist and pressing himself against her back.  "Hafta tell ya, half your students don't get greatest common denominator at all," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and then her ear. 

"I know," she sighed, giggling softly as he worried her earlobe, "And trust me, of the half who look like they get it, it's really just their parents."  Jake's lips drifted to her neck, but Heather, trembling slightly, persevered.  "I'm movin' to visual aids and games tomorrow."

"So you conned me into correcting homework you knew was bad?" Jake teased, grazing her sensitive skin with his teeth.

"No!" she squealed, elbowing him reflexively as his continued assault on her neck sent an electrified shiver up her spine.  "Not exactly," she insisted, starting to giggle again.  "They could've surprised me," Heather argued, abandoning her Rice Krispie mixture, warming on the stove, to turn around within the circle of his arms.  "Well, you, I guess," she added, offering Jake a teasing grin that drew his mouth down upon hers.

He kissed her thoroughly, and they were both panting when he finally pulled away to survey her efforts.  "No offense, babe, but I think you're doin' this wrong," Jake said, watching over Heather's shoulder as she turned around to continue stirring their dessert.  He pointed at the unopened bag of marshmallows sitting on the counter.  "You forgot the most important ingredient."

Heather shook her head, glancing back at him for just a second.  "Nah," she contradicted with a shrug, "I just decided to make a different kind.  You'll like these, I promise," she told him, pouring two more cups of cereal into the pan.

"Uh-huh," Jake muttered noncommittally, resting both his hands on her shoulders.  He started to massage her neck with his thumbs, pulling a moan from Heather.  "I'll believe that when I see it," he teased, twisting her hair up and out of his way so he could press a line of kisses down the back of her neck.

"These aren't gonna taste good at all if you keep distracting me," Heather complained half-heartedly.

"S'okay," he whispered against the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  "You taste good," he told her, starting to trace her collarbone with his mouth.  "That's all I need."

She lurched away from him, bumping against the stove.  "Jake!" she protested, spinning around.  Heather pointed a Rice Krispie coated wooden spoon at him threateningly.  "You are dangerous," she accused, laughing, attempting a glare.  "Step back, mister," she commanded, waving her spoon at him.

Heather blushed softly, adding a rosy glow to her skin.  Her eyes shone with amusement, and her loose hair was slightly wild from his playing with it.  She was gorgeous, Jake couldn't help but think, and adorable, and quickly becoming everything he could think to ask for out of life.  He allowed a husky laugh and took the step back as ordered.  "Good idea," he agreed, their gazes locked. 

Rotating on his heel, Jake gracelessly maneuvered his way the ten feet across the room to the table, and then threw himself down in his chair.  Letting out a very long, very deep breath, he watched Heather turn slowly back to the stove.  Jake ran a nervous hand through his hair and then, blowing out another breath, reached for the green pen she'd given him for marking papers, forcing himself back to the task.

Ten minutes later, the last of the math homework checked and most of his equilibrium restored, Jake sat back in his chair to study Heather.  She was humming to herself, a habit he'd noticed in her the first day they'd met when his grandfather had invited her to stay for dinner.  Heather had insisted on helping, and had hummed the entire time she'd spent setting the table.  It was a habit that she seemed largely unaware of, though occasionally she'd go from humming to singing, invariably surprising and embarrassing herself.  She'd started to sing earlier in the evening while they'd been putting dinner together, managing a few lines of a pop song he'd already forgotten, before she'd stopped, blushing and apologizing.  Jake, in the middle of dicing a tomato for their salad, had interrupted, telling her that he liked her voice, and that he liked listening to her.  Heather had smiled shyly at him, thanking him.  Then she'd cleared her throat, singing a few more lines of the song before going back to humming.

"Hey," he said softly, pulling himself up from his chair and walking toward her.  "All done."

"Thanks," Heather smiled at him, forcing the last of the sticky mass of Rice Krispies into a metal cake pan.  "And, you know, you really didn't have to."

Jake shrugged.  "No big deal."

"Well, you definitely deserve a reward," she decided, offering him the wooden spoon.  "All yours if you want it."

"Oh, so you're gonna make me test your weird marshmallow-free Rice Krispie treats," he teased, accepting the spoon. 

Heather shook her head.  "Trust me," she insisted, grinning, "You're gonna like it."

She watched Jake as he finally tasted the tip of the spoon.  He smiled at her, his eyes widening.  "Peanut butter?" he guessed.

"Yeah," she smiled, pulling the dirty pot off the stove and then carrying it to the sink.  "Thought that'd be right up your alley," she told him, laughing.  She turned on the tap, filling the pot so it could soak before she attempted to clean it.  Heather twisted back around to face Jake, drying her hands on the back of her jeans.  "So whaddya think?"

"I'm thinkin' I like yours better," Jake admitted, chuckling softly.  He took two steps toward her, backing her up into the sink.  Holding the spoon out to her, he asked, "Want some?"  Heather picked the last few recoverable clumps off the wooden spoon, and then Jake reached around her to deposit it in the soaking pot.  "Hello," he grinned, brushing his mouth lightly over hers.

"Hello," she returned, smiling into his kiss.  Jake had trapped her again, but Heather couldn't find it in herself to mind one bit.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her hands together.  He took immediate advantage of the situation by pressing his face against her shoulder.  Feeling ticklish as his lips began to roam once more, Heather laughed softly.  "You know," she began, running her fingers through his hair before resting her hand on the back of his head, cupping it, "I was gonna make a topping."

That was enough to get Jake's attention, and he lifted his head, pulling back far enough that he could look into her eyes.  Heather dropped her arms, encircling his waist.  "What kinda topping?" he inquired.

Standing on tiptoe, Heather pressed her mouth to Jake's.  "Peanut butter and butterscotch," she whispered, catching his lower lip between her own.  "Maybe peanut butter and chocolate."

"I vote butterscotch," Jake murmured before capturing her head with both his hands and kissing her again.

"Okay," she declared when they finally pulled apart, "But you're gonna need to stay three - five - feet back if I'm gonna make a topping," Heather laughed.

"Fine," Jake replied, emitting a put-upon sigh.  He turned around, making a show of pacing off three feet before rotating to face her.  He folded his hands behind his back, and grinned at Heather.  "Yes, Miss Lisinski," he said in a perfect imitation of her students, right down to the slightly nasally twang that always seemed to creep in when they answered her in unison, and their slightly lispy pronunciation of the double 'S' sound. 

Heather shook her head, fighting a smile.  "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, stepping to the right and opening a cupboard. 

Jake watched as she pulled down a couple of bags of baking chips before retrieving butter from the refrigerator.  He moved to the sink and leaned back against it, elbows propped on the drain board, legs crossed in front of him.  Heather looked over at him, prompting Jake to shrug.  "Three feet," he reminded, "Just mindin' my own business."

"Sure," Heather returned, rolling her eyes.  She plopped a sliver of butter in a saucepan and then added most of the two bags of chips on top.   Risking a quick glance in his direction, Heather caught Jake staring at her openly, admiringly.  He winked at her then, smirking slightly.  Heather turned back to the stove, and stirred the candy together furiously even though it hadn't yet begun to melt.  Thirty seconds later, she looked at Jake again, finding the same calm and appraising expression on his face.  "Jake," she protested, obviously flustered, blushing.

Standing, Jake held his hands up in surrender.  "What?" he asked, offering her his most innocent look.  "I'm just over here - more than three feet away - as ordered."

"You're -" she began, but then cut herself off.  "Never mind," Heather grumbled, returning her attention to the contents of the saucepan.  She poked at the chips in the pan, turning them over with her spoon, desperately searching for something to say if only to take her mind off the itch that was developing on the left side of her face under Jake's intense gaze.  "So, what'd you do today?" Heather demanded, risking another glance in his direction before finally giving into the urge to rub her cheek.

"Sold three horses," he replied easily.  "Gramps had a buyer in from somewhere near Lincoln.  Most everything was already negotiated, but he did bring his vet in for a medical examination, and I took 'em for a test drive, so to speak."

Heather chuckled, grinning at Jake.  "It never would occur to me to test drive a horse.  I just try to stay in the saddle, and call it good," she joked, sighing.  "I guess it's kinda like a car, though you probably don't want to kick the tires."

"Uh, no," Jake agreed.  "A horse'll kick back, and I've been kicked a few times.  Believe me, not a fun experience."  He shrugged, explaining, "I just took 'em up the same trail we went on.  And you were doing a lot more than staying in the saddle yesterday," Jake assured her.  "The buyer was a big shot lawyer with three, four daughters.  The oldest's already barrel racing, and she was lookin' for a new horse.  She - Missy - was with him, and her coach," he continued. "They spent most of the afternoon in an empty corral, making sure they could work with the horses."

"And I was thrilled to death when my parents got me a brand new bike," Heather returned, shaking her head.  "I can't imagine asking for and getting a new horse."

"You've heard of soccer moms?" Jake asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes.  "Well, this guy's definitely a rodeo dad.  Gramps was goin' to dinner with 'em tonight, and they wanted me to come along, but I said I had plans."

"Hanging out with me is not 'plans'," Heather argued, glancing at Jake.  The chips were melting now, and she stirred them slowly, trying to keep them from sticking to the bottom of the pan and burning.  "You could've gone to dinner if you wanted to," she told him.  "Or if Gramps needed you to."

"I'm exactly where I want to be," Jake answered. 

Their gazes met again, and she offered him a gentle smile.  Before either could say anything else, the phone rang.  Heather, letting out a held breath, looked at it, and then back at Jake.  "Can you check the number for me?" she requested.

Nodding, Jake crossed the kitchen and picked up the cordless handset, looking at the display on the back.  "It's April," he told Heather, recognizing his sister-in-law's cell phone number.  Thumbing the 'on' button, he answered.  "Hey, April."

"Jake?"

"Yes," he replied, walking across the kitchen.  "Who else?" he asked, leaning back against the counter adjacent to the stove.  "Besides Heather, I mean," Jake added, catching her free hand in his own and squeezing it. 

"I could've hit the wrong button," April countered.  "You and Eric sound exactly alike on the phone, you know."

"I'm just sayin', if your husband is answering my girlfriend's phone, we've both got big problems," he joked, earning him an eye roll from Heather. 

At the other end, April laughed.  "Well, that's true," she agreed.  "So, Jake, what're you two up to tonight?  Playing house?" she teased.

"Quiet night in, that's all," he responded, clearing his throat.  Heather removed the pan from the heat, and took two steps away in order to pour the sauce over the top of the pan of Rice Krispie treats.  "Did you know you can make Rice Krispie treats with peanut butter?" Jake questioned in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

"In theory, yes," April answered.  "Never tried it myself."  She paused for a few seconds before continuing.  "So Heather made you peanut butter Rice Krispie treats?  You must be in heaven."  April chuckled.  "You do realize that she's ruining you for any other woman."

"Well, I think I'm good with that," Jake returned, watching Heather as she gathered her hair together in her free hand.  She tucked it down the back of her blouse to keep it out of her way while she worked, revealing a suspicious, reddening mark on the side of her neck. 

Jake snickered, a crooked grin curling his lips.  Heather shot him an odd look, asking, "What?"

Simultaneously, April demanded, "What's going on?"  Without waiting for him to answer, she provided her own.  "You two!  You're flirting right now, aren't you, while you're on phone with me."

"You called us," Jake reminded, "We didn't call you."  He held the phone down, away from his mouth, addressing Heather.  "Nothing," he assured her softly.  He continued, adding loudly, "April thinks she's funny."

"I heard that," April informed him a few seconds later.  "And, actually, I called Heather," she corrected.  "Not you.  Or have you moved in?" she inquired sweetly.

Shaking his head, Jake held the phone out to Heather.  "It's for you," he muttered.  She nodded and, after making one last attempt to distribute the topping evenly over the Rice Krispie treats, reached for the phone.  Jake pulled it back, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.  He leaned over and kissed her before finally handing her the phone.  "Now it's for you," he said, grinning.

"Hi, April," Heather greeted, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could carry the saucepan and spatula to the sink.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" April demanded, chuckling.  "You do realize that you're spoiling Jake shamelessly, right?"

"Shamelessly?" Heather questioned, laughing along with April.  She turned on the tap and then added dish soap to the filling pot, stirring it with the spatula.  "I was just trying to make up for not letting him buy chocolate-coated marshmallow ghosts."

"Yuck," April groaned.  "Eric likes those too.  But the chocolate's so waxy and I'm not such a big fan of marshmallows."

"Except in Rice Krispie treats," Heather suggested.

"Exactly," April agreed.

Heather turned around, laughing softly to when she caught Jake eyeing the cooling pan of Rice Krispie treats.  He looked ready to dig in.  "You have to let it cool or you'll burn yourself," she told him.  "But put it in the fridge to speed it up if you want."

"Seriously spoiled," April muttered on the other end of the line.  In the next moment, though, she was giggling.  "So, I take it you two are having a good evening?"

"No complaints so far," Heather sighed, following Jake with her eyes as he took her suggestion and carried the cooling pan to the refrigerator.  "Where are you?" she asked then.  "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"  April had left for Rogue River from Sunday dinner the night before, bemoaning the twenty-four hour shift she had before her. 

"Halfway home to Jericho on Route 40," April sighed.  "I was starting to nod off, so I'm calling you to keep me awake.  Eric's at the town council meeting."

"April, that's dangerous! You shouldn't drive and talk on the phone," Heather admonished. 

"You also shouldn't drive and sleep at the same time," April yawned.  "This is the lesser of two evils.  Keep talking to me!  What did you have for dinner?"


"Spaghetti and salad.  You?" Heather answered, just as Jake approached her and reached for her free hand.  He laced their fingers together, pulling her toward the living room.  "Hold on a sec, I'm being moved," Heather told April.

"A somewhat suspicious tuna sandwich from the vending machine," April returned.  "You're being moved?"

"Uh, yeah," Heather replied distractedly.  "Jake's making me go into the living room."

He took the phone from Heather before she could say anything else, or April could respond.  "You can talk to her, but I get to curl up on the couch with her.  That's the deal."

It took April a few seconds to answer, and when she did Jake found himself imagining that she was smiling against her will.  "Deal," she laughed.  "Just, please, keep the kissy noises to minimum."

"Not makin' any promises," Jake retorted before giving the phone back to Heather.

"No promises?" Heather questioned, studying Jake, who settled for a shrug and a grin and a gentle tug on her arm to bring her down on the couch next to him. 

"Apparently I was making unreasonable demands," April explained as Jake wrapped his arm around Heather.

Jake let go of Heather long enough to retrieve the remote from the coffee table so he could tune the TV to Monday Night Football.  Football was his least favorite sport to watch, especially on television, but Jake figured it would at least give him something to do while Heather was on the phone.  He settled back into the couch, and she moved back into his arms, kissing his jaw absently while April was talking.  Jake kept one eye on the game - Pittsburgh was creaming Tennessee - and one ear tuned into Heather's end of the conversation.  During a commercial break he glanced at her, smiling at her obvious animation.  He studied her neck, confirming his earlier suspicions; he had in fact left his mark.  Jake knew he'd likely pay for that later, but for now he was just a little bit proud of himself.  Kissing Heather just below her free ear, he muttered, "Tell April to start listenin' for 'kissy noises'."

Heather turned her head so she was facing him.  Jake kissed the corner of her mouth, complete with sound effects.  "You're crazy," she informed him, laughing.  "Jake says you should be listening for 'kissy noises'," she explained into the phone.  Smiling, she held the phone away from herself and, grasping Jake's chin with her free hand, she pressed her mouth to his.  "There," Heather announced, pulling away much too quickly as far as Jake was concerned, "That should hold him for a bit."

"Not likely," Jake argued, grumbling.  From the phone, he could hear April laughing.

Laying her head against Jake's shoulder, Heather returned to her conversation with April.  From what he could hear on Heather's end, they seemed to flit from topic to topic, most of it random and of very little interest to Jake.  The football game came back on, and he concentrated on it for a few minutes, holding Heather's hand in his own, stroking it with his thumb. 

Eventually April and Heather's conversation turned to a novel they'd both read as teenagers, or at least that was what Jake pieced together from what Heather said.  "I read that too!" she'd exclaimed in answer to something April had said or asked.  "I think I was fourteen.  Talk about a shocker.  I actually went to Confession and confessed it," she'd laughed.  That was enough to pique Jake's interest, but as their discussion continued, he couldn't make much out.  He thought the book's title might be Emmeline, but he wasn't certain of even that much. 

"Well, that was the worst part," Heather sighed.  "Well, until the next worst part with Matthew and everything at the end.  But - and this is really bad - my cousin Jessica read it too, and this is how she summed up Emmeline's whole attitude towards Maguire."  Heather took a breath, and then affecting a voice that Jake guessed had to be her most outlandish imitation of a young girl, said, "Can I play with your dollhouse?"  She began to giggle uncontrollably, and Jake could hear April laughing again - even louder this time - at the other end of the call. 

"Oh dear," Heather giggled softly a few moments later, having glanced at Jake.  His expression was equal parts amused, puzzled, and disturbed.  "I think I've freaked Jake out," she told April, her gaze locking with his.

"I know what you're talking about, and I almost ran off the road," April complained, attempting to calm herself by taking a deep breath.

"Sorry," Heather apologized to them both.  Her eyes still on Jake, she offered him a smile and then reminded, "Dessert should be cool by now, if you want to get it out of the fridge." 

"'Kay," Jake agreed, shaking his head at her.  He leaned over to kiss her, and then pulled his arm loose from behind her.  Heather shivered at the loss of Jake's warm body beside her.  "Be right back," he promised.

"You know, I'm only about ten minutes from home now," April told Heather then.  "And, I'm awake.  So I suppose I can stop horning in on your evening, and let you get back to what you'd rather be doing."

"Well, I do have spelling tests to grade," Heather agreed.

"Yeah, right," April snorted.  "I don't think that's what you'd rather be doing.  You can get up a half hour early tomorrow to grade spelling," she argued.  "Go back to spoiling Jake."

Smiling, Heather nodded, forgetting for a moment that April couldn't see her.  "Okay then," she giggled.  "Night, April."

"Good night," April returned, and then Heather heard her hang up. 

Heather walked into the kitchen.  Jake had the pan of Rice Krispie treats out, and was cutting them into squares with a spatula.  It was slow-going however, because he was also eating one.  "Hey," he smiled at her, taking another bite.  "These are great!" 

He extracted one from the pan and held it out to Heather.  She accepted it, smiling.  "Thank you.  So," she teased, "Next batch I make, regular old marshmallow or -"

"Peanut butter," Jake interrupted, as she stepped toward him.  This time, she was the one who trapped him against the counter.  "Definitely peanut butter," he repeated, brushing his mouth over hers.

* * * * *

"Let the machine get it," April groaned, leaning against Eric.  After she'd gotten home from Rogue River she'd tried to wait up for him, but had fallen asleep on the couch.  Eric had kissed her awake, apologizing for being so late and grumbling about a two hour debate over The S&A Mining Company's permit request to install a stoplight at their main gate. 

"There isn't a stoplight in the whole town, and Gray Anderson wants to stop traffic out on Route 40 so he doesn't have to make an unprotected left turn," he'd complained, helping her stand.  He'd taken a good look at April then and, pulling her into his arms, Eric had kissed her temple, murmuring "Poor, tired baby.  Let's get you to bed."

April had waited while Eric had double-checked the lock on the front door, and then, arm-in-arm they'd started for their bedroom, passing through the kitchen when the phone had started to ring.  "We better wait though," April decided, yawning.  "Nobody calls this late unless it's an emergency."

Eric pressed his face against the top of her head, muttering, "Well, if it's an emergency for me, it can wait 'til tomorrow."  The machine picked up the call finally, and Eric's perfunctory message played, inviting their caller to leave a message. 

"April?  Darn it," their caller began frantically.  "I know it's late but if you're there, I have - I'm having a small medical emergency, and I could really, really use some advice." 

"It's Heather," April said, frowning, glancing up at Eric.  "I'm sorry," she added, pulling away from him.  "I should probably get it."  Eric closed his eyes and nodded, while she crossed the room, picking up the phone just as Heather was saying good bye, after having asked April to call her back as soon as she could - day or night.  "Hi, Heather," April greeted through a yawn, "What's up?"

"Oh, thank God," Heather answered in a rush of breath.  "I'm really sorry to bother you, especially since it's so late, but Jake just left and I was getting ready for bed, and -"  She paused, taking a deep breath.  "Oh God," she muttered, "He gave me a hickey, I'm pretty sure.  April," Heather implored, "You've gotta - how - what do I do to get rid of it!?!"

April chuckled sympathetically.  "Oh, Heather, I don't know.  That's kinda outside my area of expertise.  It's not completely medical."

"You don't understand," Heather argued.  "I have to go to school tomorrow.  The PTA president hates me, and her son is in my class, and she walks him in every day just so can check up on me.  If she sees this - this thing," she groaned, "I'm so screwed."

"No, you're not," April clucked comfortingly.  "Hold on a sec," she requested, turning around to face Eric, holding the phone against her shoulder.  "I think this may take some time," she told him, her expression bemused.  "I'm sorry," April said, stepping toward him.  Taking his hand, she squeezed it.  "You go to bed, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"April, you're exhausted," Eric protested.  "If it's not medical, can't it wait 'til tomorrow?"

She offered him a tired smile.  "Not completely medical," she corrected.  "And, I should take this.  She's kinda upset."

Eric shook his head, heaving a put-upon sigh.  "What did Jake do?" he complained.  "What's wrong with her?"

"I can't," April insisted, pursing her lips.  She stared at him, trying to get her point across; Eric just stared back.  "She's embarrassed," April explained softly.  She raised the phone from her shoulder and spoke into it.  "I'm still here, promise.  But I need another second."

"Okay," Heather agreed, "But hurry.  I think it's getting bigger," she complained.

April tucked the phone back against her shoulder, stifling a laugh.  "You don't know this," she told Eric. "I will have to do something very bad to you if you ever say anything," she warned.  April took a breath and then mouthed more than spoke, "Jake gave Heather a hickey."

"Oh man," Eric snickered, "He's gonna pay for that."

"Probably," April agreed, chuckling.  "And so will you if you say anything," she reminded, shaking a finger at him.  "Now go."

Eric brushed his lips across her forehead.  "'Kay," he agreed yawning.  "You know," he added, shrugging and taking a step back, "When we were growin' up, Jake always said that if you put toothpaste on it, waited fifteen minutes, and then scrubbed it with your toothbrush, it helps."

"But that'd take your skin off," April frowned.  "And what in the world is the toothpaste for?"

"Good questions.  And, probably why Jake didn't tell her himself," Eric answered.  "I'm goin' to bed."

She waited until Eric was completely out of the kitchen before raising the phone to her ear.  "Sorry," she breathed, moving to the table and taking a seat.  "Eric wasn't taking a hint," April explained.

Heather didn't even bother to acknowledge the apology.  "April, what do I do!?!?" she demanded immediately, a hysterical edge to her tone.

"Well, in the end, it's a bruise," April answered, clearing her throat and going into doctor mode.  "How long ago did it happen?"

"I don't know!" Heather wailed in response.  "Sometime between six and eleven!"

April covered her face with her hand, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.  "Okay," she began, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm assuming this is your first hickey?"

Heather's "Yes," was barely audible.

"Okay, and where is it?"

"My neck," Heather admitted, suddenly reluctant to say anything.

"Where on your neck?" April questioned gently.  "Your neck goes all the way around."

"Sorry," Heather apologized, sniffling.  "On my neck, about and inch and a half below, and a little behind, my ear.  It might be turning purple."

"It probably is.  It's a bruise," April repeated.  "And, for a bruise you do cold compresses and elevate.  Obviously you can't elevate, but put some ice on it.  Still," she reminded, "It's not going to go away overnight.  You're gonna have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.  Or a scarf, since it's gonna be in the seventies."

"This is a nightmare," Heather complained.  "I'm gonna kill Jake."

"Well, he does deserve to be smacked, that's for sure," April agreed, massaging the bridge of her nose with one finger.  "You can try make-up to cover it, but that's risky.  Rubs off, and around all those kids -"

"Yeah, that won't work," Heather confirmed.  "I'd be nervous about it all day, and end up sweating it off by the ten o'clock recess."

"Well then, ice it, and dress to conceal tomorrow.  The tried and true.  Unfortunately, I don't have a miracle cure."  April tapped a finger on the table, trying to decide whether or not to pass along Jake's advice - anonymously.  She doubted Heather would appreciate it if she knew the source.  April was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed, but she also wasn't going to say good bye to Heather until she was sure the younger woman was calm and armed with a plan of action.  "Well, there's one more thing that I've heard, but I don't really think it works," she began reluctantly.

"April, I'm desperate," Heather assured.  "I'll consider just about anything."

"Okay then," April acknowledged, taking a deep breath.  "What you gotta do is put toothpaste on it, leave it on for fifteen minutes, and then scrub it with your toothbrush."

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

Thursday, November 2, six weeks after the bombs

Jake stood near the eastern end of the Tacoma Bridge, looking back toward town, trying to focus his thoughts.  Although he still didn't like or trust Gray Anderson, he was glad of the other man's foresight - if not his initiative - in setting up checkpoints on some of the western roads coming into town.  They were scrambling now, still trying to play catch-up, but at least that was one weight off his mind.  Bill and Eric had things under control in town, and now he and Robert Hawkins were working to secure the bridge, their most immediate need at this point.

A truck as ancient as Heather's 'Charlotte', though in better condition, turned onto the bridge.  Jake glanced at Hawkins, standing a few feet away, maintaining the same vigil, and then returned his attention to the truck.  It drew nearer, passing the few volunteers - no more than twenty - who had already made it out from town.  They were standing around in small groups, obviously nervous, clutching their hunting rifles awkwardly.  He crossed his fingers, hoping that Bill and Eric would be able to raise more help as they worked to stockpile weapons and ammunition. 

Shading his eyes with his hand, Jake finally identified Clyde Davis as the truck's driver; Jimmy Taylor was riding shotgun.  Clyde pulled to a stop, turning off the engine, and Jake stepped forward to give direction.  "Get as many guys as you can," he instructed.  "There's a farm up the road with a couple of dead trucks.  Bring them back here, and we'll use them as a barricade."  With that, Jake knocked on the hood, signaling that they should go. 

"Got it," Jimmy agreed, giving Jake a 'thumbs up'.  Clyde started the truck and, once Jake had taken a step back, put it into gear.

"You think that'll make a difference?" Hawkins asked from beside Jake, his perfectly neutral tone grating on Jake's nerves.

"It's better than nothin'," he retorted, wiping his mouth distractedly.  Jake started to walk away, intending to check in with and reassure the volunteers already on hand, only to stop short when Hawkins called after him.

"This isn't your first run in with Ravenwood, is it?" He spoke loudly enough that there was no way Jake could claim he hadn't heard, but quietly enough that no one else could have possibly heard the question.

Jake stopped in his tracks, spinning around and advancing on Hawkins, his expression wholly suspicious.  "Why?" he demanded, getting to the other man's face.

"You go off on your road trip," Hawkins shrugged, his countenance revealing no emotion.  "All of a sudden, they're headed for Jericho.  Would've thought you'd be more careful s'all."

Even in a thoughtless, knee-jerk response there was no chance that Jake would betray his brother and lay blame at Eric's feet for the impending arrival of Ravenwood in Jericho.  The Greens, for all their internal squabbling, understood loyalty and they knew when to circle the wagons.  As often as Jake was at odds with his brother, he'd always protect and defend him to outsiders.  Jake glared at Hawkins.  "You think I led them here on purpose?"

Hawkins remained maddeningly calm.  "Hey," he returned, holding up one hand, "I'm just tryin' to put the pieces together, Jake."

"You need to put the pieces together?" Jake snorted, expelling an aggravated breath.  "You want this to all make sense?  'Kay then.  You're a cop," he reminded.  "You ever work undercover?"

"Did three, four years in the anti-gang unit, most of if undercover," Hawkins conceded, his gaze unwavering.  "You work undercover, Jake?"

Jake returned Hawkins' stare, his jaw clenched.  "My last assignment, I was investigating Ravenwood.  I thought I knew the worst of them."  He shook his head.  "Then we went to Rogue River.  Ravenwood liquidated that hospital.  And, I mean liquidate in the Warsaw Ghetto sense."  He paused to take a breath, grinding one clenched fist against his thigh.  "They murdered the patients in their beds, and the doctors and nurses when they tried to protect 'em.  Massacred nearly two hundred people.  So let me make it easy for you," Jake snapped.  "My family lives in Jericho -"

"So does mine," Hawkins interrupted, his nostrils flaring, offering the first glimpse of feeling Jake had detected in him all morning, maybe ever.

"Everything I do, I do to protect them," Jake continued, talking over Hawkins.  He closed his eyes momentarily, picturing Heather as he'd last seen her: sleepy, hair tousled, hers finger twined with his, love and trust obvious in her eyes and smile.  Taking a deep breath, he silently renewed his earlier promise to himself to keep her safe.

"Same here, man," Hawkins returned.  "Look.  Your wife's pregnant, right?" 

Jake's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  Heather's pregnancy was fairly common knowledge in Jericho now, but he didn't believe for one second that Hawkins brought it up for any but the most calculated of reasons.

Hawkins held up his hand again, laughing softly.  "Hey, Jimmy mentioned something, that's all.  Seemed real happy for you and your wife.  And look, I only bring it up 'cause I know where you're coming from, and I know where you're gonna be coming from," he explained.  "Trust me," he muttered, chuckling softly at Jake's immediate frown.  "For guys like you and me, what we do, it only gets harder when you have kids."  Hawkins paused, offering Jake his usual enigmatic grin.  "Let's work together," he suggested, "For your family and mine."

"Fine then," Jake declared.  "Let's stop screwin' around and get it done."  With that, he turned on his heel, and walked away.

A half hour later, Jake was feeling marginally better about how things were going, not that that had stopped the nervous churning of his stomach.  More volunteers had arrived from town, and he watched as Hawkins and four other men pushed a third car into place, completing most of the first row of their barricade.  They had a few working vehicles - none of which they could afford to lose - positioned just behind the junked cars they'd brought in, offering some additional protection, but Jake was still hoping they'd have time to assemble a second and third row, anything that would slow Ravenwood down. 

"Good!" Hawkins announced.  "Okay, we're going to need another car," he continued, clapping one of the volunteers on the shoulder to get his attention.  "Put it here," he ordered, pointing to a space in front of the three foot gap in their line.

Jake finished up his conversation with two S&A Mining Company employees and turned, following a step behind Hawkins, who was concentrated on examining his handgun; everyone was jittery and everyone had been checking and re-checking their weapons regularly as they waited for something to happen.  "Let me guess," Jake drawled from Hawkins elbow, "This isn't your first run in with these guys either."

Hawkins ignored the jibe.  "There's only one thing I need to know from you, Jake," he said, not bothering to look at the younger man.

"What?" Jake returned, annoyed.

Finally glancing at Jake, Hawkins took his rifle and began to inspect it.  Looking the gun over, Hawkins snorted.  "Would you even know when you were in over your head?"

Jake stood next to Hawkins, both of them staring down the highway at the groups of men pushing another two vehicles down the road for use in the barricade.  "Usually, if someone's shooting in my direction, I figure that I may be in over my head," Jake muttered.

Hawkins allowed a short bark of laughter, looking sideways at the younger man.  Jake's jaw was obviously clenched, but he gave no other sign of how he was feeling.  "This may very well end up a shooting war," Hawkins suggested.

"Probably," Jake acknowledged.

The men who were bringing the cars down the road abandoned them suddenly.  They ran for the bridge, yelling, their shouts carried on the wind, reaching Jake and Hawkins.  "They're here!  They're here!"

Jake hit Hawkins on the arm, and they both sprang to action.  Hawkins began to holler at the men on the bridge and at the men running for safety.  "Hey!  They're here! Cmon, c'mon!"  He waved and shoved men behind the barricade.  "Just run!  C'mon!  C'mon! Hustle!"

"C'mon!" Jake shouted, adding to the commotion.  "Let's go!  Let's go!"

Hawkins ducked behind an overturned car.  "Take your positions!" he barked at the men who made up their small, unprepared army.  "Check your clips, safety's off.  C'mon, everybody!  Remember what we talked about!"

Waiting until the last of the men from the road were behind their meager fortification, Jake watched two black humvees come barreling up, and then screech to a stop thirty or forty feet away.  The knot in his stomach grew with his resolve.  He moved behind the barricade, calling out his own order.  "Nobody fires until I say so!"

"Everybody remember to breathe," Hawkins continued, walking the line of men now in position, their rifles at the ready.  "All right.  The most important thing to do before squeezing the trigger is to breathe."

A menacing looking man, dressed in what Jake recognized as standard Ravenwood issue, swaggered forward.  "Somebody here want to talk to me?" he shouted.  The men from Jericho remained silent, their rifles trained on the Ravenwood operatives, many of whom stood around, brazenly, in the open.  "Whoever's in charge," the apparent leader started again, "This road needs to be cleared.  We're under government orders to collect supplies."

Again, there was silence, ratcheting up the tension of the standoff.  A shot rang out from the Jericho side.  It wasn't until hours later that Jake learned that Ridley Cooper, one of Gray Anderson's managers, had fired his rifle accidentally.  All hell broke loose as the Ravenwood contingent immediately returned fire with their semi-automatic weapons, riddling the vehicles that made up the barricade with bullets.  The men from Jericho cowered behind it, scared and praying for their lives.

The rat-a-tat-tat of Ravenwood's weapons seemed to go on forever, though in reality it was less than thirty seconds.  Jake heard the group leader shouting.  "Hold your fire!" he ordered his men.  "Listen up!" he yelled as the last of the gunfire petered out.  "We're here on government orders to collect supplies," he repeated.  "Your cooperation is mandatory!  Understood?  Mandatory!"

Leaning back into the safety of the shell of the vehicle he hid behind, Jake clenched his teeth, swearing angrily.  "Damn!"

The group leader continued, his tone strident.  "When I get back here, this bridge better be cleared, or I'll clear it myself," he threatened.  "You've got four hours.  Understood?"  Without bothering to wait for an answer that he knew wasn't coming, he turned on his heel, striding back to his humvee.  Waving his finger in a circle, he commanded his men.  "Let's roll!"

The Ravenwood humvees were turned around and speeding down the highway in a matter of seconds.  Jake watched them go, breathing hard, his mind racing as he considered the matter.  There hadn't been more than ten in the Ravenwood group - to their forty - but they'd been outgunned anyway.  He knew that when they returned they were likely to bring more.  The men from Ravenwood were thugs with the ability to do one thing well, and that was spray gunfire at anything that moved.  He was working with a bunch of desperate and committed amateurs, men who labored on their farms or at the mine, and maybe went hunting once or twice a year.  Jake knew that there was no way for Jericho to prevail, not if it came down to a shootout.

Gray Anderson stumbled forward, his rifle clutched in both hands.  Jake glanced at him quickly, taking in his ashen pallor and wide eyes.  "What the hell are we gonna do?" he demanded, his voice breaking softly.  "There's no way we can hold this bridge."

Taking a step forward, Jake threw his rifle down on the hood of the last car they'd managed to position before Ravenwood's arrival.  "Gonna hafta take it out," he answered, still studying the departing humvees.  He couldn't see any other possible way to secure Jericho and protect her people.

"I agree," Hawkins confirmed.

"What're you sayin'?" Gray questioned softly, looking between Jake and Hawkins.

"There can't be a bridge," Jake decided, shaking his head.

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

In case I'm showing my age by including Heckle and Jeckle, just know that they're a pair of cartoon birds. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heckle_and_Jeckle)

Also, the book that Heather and April discuss is Emmeline by Judith Rossner.  My copy is from 1981, though according to Amazon it was re-released in 1998, and is once again out of print.  Emmeline is an inside joke (as is "Can I play with your dollhouse?") I have with a couple of college friends.  I needed something and I went with it.

Lastly, Heather made Sherry's peanut butter Rice Krispie treat recipe.