Different Circumstances: Part 10E of ?
by Marzee Doats
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, November 23, two months after the bombs
"Pull," Johnston ordered unnecessarily, tugging on his end of the dining room table. Jake yanked from the other side and the table separated with a moaning creak. They dragged the ends apart, exposing three feet of wooden crossbars and air.
"Really think we only need the one leaf?" Jake asked as he helped his father retrieve the insert from where they'd left it against the wall. "We've got nine for dinner, right? That's four on one side."
"April says Drake's out for the night at least," Johnston reminded as they dropped the leaf into place. "We've only got eight, so three on each side. There's plenty of room."
Jake walked around to his end of the table and waited for Johnston to do the same. "It's nine, if Kenchy comes," he argued as they pushed the table back together. "Kenchy, Mike and Jeff. You and Mom. Heather and me. April."
"And that's eight," Johnston reminded holding up five fingers on one hand and three on the other.
"Right," Jake muttered. "I think I was counting Eric still," he admitted a few seconds later, frowning, as he and his father each moved around to the sides of the table, reaching underneath to lock the leaf into place.
"Yeah," Johnston acknowledged, grumbling. "Did you know about all this?" he asked a moment later, staring at his son across the table. "Eric and Mary?" He shook his head, adding immediately, "You don't have to answer that."
"I knew a little," Jake admitted with a grimace, drumming his fingers somewhat nervously on the bare wood of his mother's antique table.
Johnston swallowed hard, stepping over to the buffet to retrieve the tablecloth that Gail had put out. Unfolding it once, he handed one end to Jake, over the table. "Think it'll work out?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
Together they unfolded the tablecloth, laying it over the dining table. "He says she makes him happy," Jake shrugged, eyes down as he concentrated on pulling the sides even. He was pretty sure that wasn't the answer his father was looking for.
"You mother says they were having - having fertility issues," Johnston said next, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle out of the tablecloth. "They were trying, but April couldn't get pregnant."
"That's what Heather says, too," Jake confirmed, not bothering to mention the other problems Heather both knew and suspected had existed between Eric and April.
"April used to make Eric happy," Johnston argued, more to himself than to his son. Jake could tell from his father's expression that Johnston was thinking out loud as much as anything, trying to come to grips with what had gone wrong right under his nose. "They were still happy enough together for her to get pregnant," he continued, "Even though they - they thought she couldn't. And, what about when Mary doesn't make him happy," he complained, finally making eye contact with his son. Jake recognized the disappointment, sorrow and - most telling - the sense of failure in Johnston's expression. "Is he gonna leave her, too?"
"Dad, it's not your problem," Jake protested dully, well aware that there was nothing he could say that would make Johnston Green feel better about what had happened. Like the rest of them, he was simply going to have to work through it all on his own, and at his own pace.
"I know, I know," Johnston dismissed, staring past Jake. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then moved back to the buffet to pick up a stack of dinner plates. Taking his cue from his father, Jake grabbed forks and knives - the good silver, he noted - and began to follow behind Johnston as he worked his way around the table. "It's just," Johnston began again, clearing his throat, "My one goal when I was raising you boys was that even when things got tough, you made the right choices. I don't - How does any man leave his pregnant wife and then look himself in the mirror each morning?"
"I dunno that Eric's looked at himself since he found out," Jake reminded, sighing. "And, I don't think April'd take him back even if he changed his mind."
Johnston nodded in acknowledgment, the set of his jaw betraying the conflict that rested heavy on his mind and in his heart. "Shoulda put the napkins down first," he muttered, returning to the buffet and picking up the stack of cloth napkins Gail had laid out earlier. He waved them at Jake as he moved back to the table. "Here," Johnston said, handing his son half of the stack before picking up a knife, putting a napkin down, and then laying the knife on top of it.
"How's things with you?" he asked quietly a moment later, moving onto the next place setting. Johnston looked back over his shoulder at the kitchen door. April had gone upstairs after the football game, saying she wanted to lay down for a bit, though they'd all rightly suspected that, more than anything, she needed a few minutes to herself after her conversation with Eric. Gail and Heather, however, were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. "You and Heather?" Johnston clarified gruffly. "I know you two were, uh..." He trailed off, looking up at his son, his expression grim.
Jake snorted. "Well, I'm sure you've always thought - between me and Eric - if one of us was gonna get divorced -"
"I didn't say that," Johnston interrupted, annoyed. "And I never thought it either. I just - I just won't stand by and watch -" He stopped, shaking his head. "It's probably too late for Eric and April. I don't want it to ever get too late for you and Heather, that's all."
"It's not going to," Jake argued, putting his last knife back into place. "We had a fight," he admitted, frowning, "But that's all it was, Dad. Just a fight. We're - we're fine. I love Heather," he declared, smiling softly as he added, "She makes me happy."
Johnston exhaled deeply, some of the worry leaving his expression. "Good," he affirmed.
The door from the kitchen swung open and Gail, followed by Heather and Jeff, entered the dining room, each carrying a dish which Gail directed them to leave on the buffet. "You two didn't have to do all that," she said, surveying the set table. She moved next to Johnston, wrapping one arm around his waist. "I just wanted you to add the leaf, but thank you."
"You're welcome," Johnston answered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He kissed the top of her head, adding, "Happy to do it."
"Well," Gail began, "You saved Heather and me some work, so thank you." There was a knock on the front door then, and she craned her neck, glancing toward it. "That must be Kenchy," she predicted.
"I'll get it," Jeff offered, already heading into the hallway.
* * * * *
Emily Sullivan turned her car onto Chestnut and then drove the one and a half blocks to the Green house, parking at the curb out front. These days, with her SUV still abandoned somewhere between Jericho and Wichita and Roger's car fried by the EMP, she was driving her little brother's two-door hardtop 1973 Toyota Land Cruiser. It had seen better days, but at least it still ran, and for that she was grateful.
Her father had been nearly fifteen thousand dollars in arrears on his child support when Chris had turned eighteen and their mother had finally given up on ever collecting; Jonah hadn't seen any reason to pay after his ex-wife's disastrously short second marriage to Dwight Sullivan. Dwight, a mechanic from Fielding, was a kind and unassuming man who'd truly loved his wife and stepchildren, but he'd been no match for the fury Jonah Prowse had directed at him, and the marriage had only lasted a little over a year. But while Jonah didn't pay his child support, he'd still always been good for over the top gifts that had left Carol Sullivan fuming and muttering under her breath about health insurance and orthodontist bills and the cost of shoes and new winter jackets.
Jonah had given Chris the Land Cruiser for his sixteenth birthday. For her birthday, Emily had received a 1989 Cabriolet - her choice - which was long since gone, driven into the ground, but Chris had still been driving the Land Cruiser when he'd been killed. Emily had taken it, storing it in the garage at the small house she'd inherited from her mother. Roger had told her she was crazy when she'd insisted on keeping it after they'd purchased their own house in The Pines, but they'd had a three-car garage, and he'd thrown a cover over it and had promptly begun ignoring what he'd thought of as just another item in Emily's sentimental collection of artifacts from her life in Jericho.
A knock on her window startled her. Emily yanked the keys from the ignition, and looked up recognizing her drinking partner from her non-wedding day. She popped the door and he stepped back, pulling it open with a flourish. "Hey," she greeted.
"Hello. If it isn't my favorite Jericho blond," he teased.
"Your favorite Jericho blond?" she asked, giggling softly. "Am I supposed to be flattered?"
"That's up to you," he shrugged. "I'm merely expressing my appreciation for a beautiful woman who shared her bourbon with me."
"Hmm. I'll have to think about it," Emily told him, stepping out from behind the car door. He closed it for her. "I'm here for Thanksgiving dinner with the Greens. You?"
"The same," he answered, pointing her toward the front walk. "I moved out on Monday, but it's so much easier to get fed when I'm at Mrs. Green's for some reason."
Emily giggled again. "I ate here three times a week when I was a kid. You're Ken, right?" she asked, glancing at him sideways.
"Kenchy," he corrected. "Kenchy Dhuwalia. But you may call me Ken, if I can call you Barbie," he joked.
"How 'bout I call you Kenchy?" she returned, stopping him just before they mounted the front porch steps. "And, I'm Emily Sullivan," she added, offering him her hand.
"It is good to meet you officially, Emily Sullivan," Dhuwalia replied, shaking her hand. He held onto it, rather than let go, leading her up the steps and across the porch. Glancing at her sideways, he dropped her hand finally, and then rapped loudly on the door.
The door opened fifteen seconds later to reveal a tall, blond young man in his mid-twenties. "Hey," he greeted, "We've been waiting for you, Dr. Dhuwalia." He glanced at Emily. "I don't think we've been waiting for you, but I think we'll take ya," he grinned.
"You're not Heather's brother, right?" Emily asked, fighting a smile.
"Well, she says I'm like a brother," he answered, shrugging. "Only I think that means obnoxious like a brother, and Heather'd know. I'm Jeff," he said, taking a step back in order to admit them to the house.
"Hey, Emily," Gail called out, spotting the younger woman as Jeff led her and Dhuwalia into the dining room.
Emily smiled. "Hey. I hope the invitation to dinner still stands?"
"Of course," Gail agreed. "Glad you could make it. You missed the football," she chided, coming around the table to offer the younger woman a hug.
"I didn't want to show Jake up," Emily joked, extracting herself from Gail's embrace and then sidling over to stand next to Jake.
"Really?" he laughed, stepping away from Emily and moving around the table to join Heather. "I don't know that I'm that bad at football."
"Hey, you led your team to victory this year," Heather offered, grinning at Jake over her shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her. "Very impressively," she added, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth.
"You guys only won because you had three to our two," Jeff complained. "And Mrs. Green got every one of your touchdowns. It's not like I can tag her out."
"Dad can," Jake returned, resting his chin on top of Heather's head. "And has. That's the way this game goes. You can't be intimidated by a girl," he joked.
"She's not a girl," Jeff argued, "She's a mom."
Everyone laughed at that, Gail loudest of all. "Well, thank you, dear. I think," she chuckled. "And, I must say," she declared, exchanging grins with Jake, "It's a sweet victory." Johnston and Jeff - both of whom had played football in high school - had formed 'Team J' against Gail, Michael and Jake, 'Team GMJ'. Although 'Team J' had scored first, Jake had figured out Jeff's aversion to going after Gail pretty quickly, and 'Team GMJ' had used that to their great advantage. Jake and Michael had switched to a strategy of getting the ball to Gail and then keeping themselves between her and Johnston, eventually winning the game twenty-four to twelve.
Still smiling, Gail turned to greet Dhuwalia. "I'm glad you were able to get away for a bit and join us, Kenchy. Happy Thanksgiving."
"I must admit, I've missed your cooking Mrs. Green," he smiled. "I'm rather lost on my own without a microwave. I've been having lots of ramen," Dhuwalia admitted, affecting an exaggerated grimace.
"Well, we're having a veritable feast tonight," Gail announced, looking around the room at each of them. "We'll need another place set, though," she decided, looking down at the table. "Johnston, would you," she said, pointing him toward the dishes sitting on the buffet. "And, Jake could you get another chair from the den?"
Heather caught his hand as Jake started to turn away. "I'll help ya," she told him, lacing her fingers through his.
"Okay," he agreed, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "C'mon," Jake added, leading her out of the dining room.
"What in the world is she doing here?" Heather demanded as soon as they were in the den. She pulled her hand loose from Jake's and turned to close the double doors. "Seriously, she's got family in town," she continued, facing Jake, her expression one of pure frustration. "They're pretty much required to feed her on Thanksgiving."
"Babe, I dunno," Jake shrugged. He hadn't told Heather about his conversation with Emily at Bailey's earlier in the day, and he certainly wasn't planning to. As far as he could see, Emily was crazy or a glutton for ... something. "I didn't know Mom had invited her. She was probably just trying to be nice."
"I have had it up to here with Emily Sullivan," Heather declared, holding her hand about three inches above her head. "And - And I don't want her eating any of my chicken," she added, crossing her arms over her chest. Jake was half-surprised when she didn't stomp her foot.
Turning away to hide his grin, Jake crossed to the closet. He opened the door, spotting a folding chair at the back. "You're not jealous of Emily," he reminded, pulling the chair loose and rotating around to face her.
"This is not jealous," Heather insisted, pointing a finger at herself. "I just don't like her."
"Fine by me," he returned, this time allowing her to see his grin. Exhaling softly, Jake shook his head. "Look," he continued, opening the chair so he could set it down before moving toward her, "This doesn't exactly make my Thanksgiving either." He stopped in front of her and reached for her hand, pulling her against him. "You do that," Jake declared, resting his other hand over their child. "But I don't think Mom's gonna kick her out, so I say we just get through it. Okay?"
Heather made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I say we make a very early night of it," she grumbled. "If she's still here five minutes after dessert, I'm goin' to bed."
Gripping her shoulders, Jake gently pushed her a few inches away. "So, skip our walk downtown?" he asked, lifting her chin with one hand before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
"Actually, that'd be fun," she admitted, smiling softly against his mouth. "Five minutes after dessert, we're outta here," she amended taking a half step back, "And your Mom can entertain Emily."
Jake grinned. "Deal," he agreed.
She made another irritated sound then, shaking her head. "I just - I don't have the time or energy to put up with her anymore," Heather declared. "The last time - the last time I talked to her, it was really the last straw."
"Wait a second," he interjected, frowning. "What happened?" She made a face, but otherwise didn't respond. "Heather," he prompted, staring at her.
"It's a long story," she dismissed with a sigh. "I'll - I'll tell you later. I just - It solidified my thinking, that's all."
"Oh, yeah," Jake snorted in complaint, "Nothin' ominous about that."
She offered him a somewhat forced smile, and then pressed herself against Jake, kissing him again. "It's fine. Just completely melodramatic and not worth getting into," Heather grumbled. "We better go," she suggested a few seconds later, cocking her head toward the door, "Before they come looking for us."
"Right," he agreed, turning around to retrieve the folding chair. Tucking it under one arm, he offered Heather his hand. "C'mon. We'll give Mom two hours, and then we're outta here," he promised, winking at her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, November 22, five years before the bomb
Grandpa didn't wait for a response. Leaving the door open, he turned around, heading back toward the stairs. Jake let out a deep breath. Squeezing Heather's hand, he stood up, pulling her with him. "I think we better go." She nodded.
Out in the hallway, Heather started to follow after Grandpa, but Jake tugged her toward the bathroom instead. "Oh good Lord!" she exclaimed a few seconds later, gaping at her reflection in the mirror. Jake, standing behind her, offered a sheepish smile. "I think you called this 'mauled'?" she asked with a groan that turned into a slightly hysterical giggle as she began to finger comb her hair back into place.
"Sorry," Jake grinned at her in the mirror before pressing his face against the back of her head, inhaling the apple scent of her hair.
"Sure you are," she laughed in return, shaking her head at him as she reached to pull a tissue from the box on the vanity. Heather wiped it across her lips, and then turned around, dabbing the tissue at his mouth. "You know," she joked, "You're wearing more of my lip gloss than me."
Jake pushed her hand away from his face, and cupping her chin, pressed his mouth to hers. "Tastes good," he teased, grazing her lower lip with his teeth before running his tongue over it to take away the sting. "Cinnamon-flavored Heather."
"And here I thought Gramps meant we needed to wash our hands," she giggled, pulling away a few seconds later. Heather let out a big sigh, smiling at Jake shyly. "Something tells me your mother's rule definitely applies to the bathroom," she added, attempting to smooth his tousled hair back into place.
He grabbed her hand as she finished patting down one wayward lock, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Probably," Jake agreed with a lopsided grin. "Maybe we better go down before she comes lookin' for us."
"Okay," Heather nodded twisting around between Jake and the vanity. "Let me just wash my hands," she said, turning on the tap. She raised her head, her eyes locking with Jake's in the mirror. Wrapping himself around her, he inserted his hands into the stream of water, prompting Heather to slap the back of one lightly. "We're gonna get in trouble," she argued.
"Yeah, probably," he murmured, kissing her ear.
Laughing softly, Heather closed her eyes. "You are incorrigible, Jake Green," she informed him, affecting her best teacher voice. "If you were in my class, I'd keep you in from recess," she teased.
"Hey, sign me up," he returned, shutting off the water before taking a step back. Without looking behind him, he pulled a hand towel off the rack on the wall and handed it to Heather. "Detention with Miss Lisinski. I bet that's real popular."
"Knew that would get you," she grinned, wiping her hands quickly. She returned the towel to him, waiting while he also dried his hands. "Okay, let's go," Heather commanded as soon as he'd replaced the towel on the rack. "C'mon," she added, reaching for the door knob.
Jake behaved - mostly - as Heather led him down to the first floor. Eric was alone in the living room, lying on the couch, his ankle wrapped in an ace bandage and elevated, an ice pack draped across his injured nose and eye. He appeared to be sleeping, and April was nowhere in sight. Jake held a finger up to his lips and cocked his head toward the dining room. Heather nodded, trying to keep quiet as she followed him across the room. "Tol' you so," Eric called after them just as they stepped into the dining room.
Gail and April came out of the kitchen, saving Jake the trouble of having to come up with a reply when he really didn't have one. "There you two are," Gail declared. Standing behind her mother-in-law, April offered them both a knowing smirk. "Your father's almost got the turkey carved," Gail continued, "So I need the table set."
"We're on it, Ma," Jake assured, standing behind Heather, his hands on her shoulders.
"I'll help you guys," April decided, stifling a chuckle. She set the relish tray she was carrying on the buffet and picked up a stack of dinner plates.
"Thank you," Heather acknowledged, slipping away from the shelter of Jake's body. He grabbed her hand, playing with her fingers as he followed her around the end of the table. Smiling at Jake, she handed him a pile of napkins, grabbing the salad plates for herself.
"Good," Gail decided, nodding at them distractedly before turning around and heading back into the kitchen.
Heather followed after April, placing a salad plate above each of the larger plates her friend had set out. Jake stayed right behind her, putting a napkin down at each place and taking advantage of every opportunity to touch her in some manner. These caresses didn't go unnoticed by April, and she laughed at them outright, rolling her eyes but smiling, when Heather surprised Jake by turning around and, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. "Yeah, you're on it all right," April snickered.
"Go pry your husband off the couch," Jake grumbled, glaring benignly at his sister-in-law. He returned his attention to Heather, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her against him. He slipped his hand underneath her still untucked blouse, stroking the bare skin of her back just above the waistband of her jeans with his thumb. "We've got this under control," Jake smiled, pressing his lips against Heather's.
"Sure you do," April chuckled, shaking her head. "Remember, the rest of us wanna eat, so forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right." With that, still grinning, she turned around and headed into the living room.
"We really should finish," Heather sighed, extracting herself from Jake's arms. Tangling her fingers with his, she dragged him over to the buffet and handed him a fistful of forks. "On the left," she joked, shoving him gently back toward the table.
Grandpa Green marched into the dining room, whistling off-key and carrying a pair of wooden crutches. "Your mother says dinner's in two minutes," he informed Jake, looking back and forth between him and Heather, smiling at her kindly. He paused, letting the crutches rest on the floor. "These yours or Eric's?" he asked as his grandson placed the last fork on the table.
Jake looked up, frowning. "I think they're Dad's," he answered. "Remember, maybe ten years ago, he and Mom got bikes," Jake snorted, taking a half step back so that Heather could squeeze in front of him and set out the last of the cutlery. "First time out, he fell over and twisted his ankle? Really bad case of road rash too," Jake recalled, capturing Heather in a hug.
"Right, right," Grandpa chuckled. "Well, we're gonna see if these help Eric out," he said, hoisting the crutches and starting toward the living room.
"If he really needs 'em, mine from last summer are still out at the ranch," Jake reminded. "They're better - lighter - aluminum, not wood." Heather laid her head back against his shoulder, and he looked down at her, noting the troubled look that had settled on her features. "Broke my ankle," Jake told her, brushing his mouth over hers. "No big deal."
"Kind of a big deal," Heather contradicted, combing her hand through his hair.
Gail, carrying mashed potatoes and rolls, and Johnston, bearing the turkey meat on a platter, entered the dining room. Johnston cleared his throat, prompting Heather to pull out of Jake's embrace, blushing. "Time to eat," he told them, trying to swallow his amusement.
"The green bean casserole?" Heather asked, starting to move around the table.
"I've got it in the microwave," Gail explained. "And, I'll get it," she added, waving Heather off. "You two put the glasses on, and then have a seat," she instructed, smiling at the young couple.
Johnston went to work moving serving dishes from the buffet to the table while Heather and Jake set out wineglasses and water goblets. Surveying their work a few moments later, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into another quick hug. "C'mon," Jake smiled softly at Heather, leading her around to the far side of the table. He seated her in the middle chair, taking the one to her right for himself.
They were both just settled when Eric, on crutches, limped into the dining room followed closely by April and Grandpa. Heather jumped up immediately, pushing her chair back. "Eric, I am so sorry," she apologized again. "I - I made green bean casserole."
"S'okay," he groaned as April helped him into the nearest chair. Grandpa pulled another chair out from against the wall, moving it over so Eric could prop up his injured leg. "An' danks. I like green bean casserole."
"Told ya," April grinned, kissing Eric on top of the head before she took the crutches from him, leaning them against the wall. "I don't know, though," she continued, taking the chair next to her husband, "I may have to leave you here for the weekend - let your Mom take care of you - since I'm gonna be at work."
"You can leave him here," Gail returned, coming in from the kitchen with Heather's casserole and the stuffing, "But I'm going shopping tomorrow."
"Trust me, you don't want to be stuck home alone on crutches," Jake advised. "One time, I was home by myself - right after you guys got married - and I got the brilliant idea to make a frozen pizza. I couldn't carry it anywhere on crutches. Had to eat the whole thing standing up, over the stove."
Everyone laughed at that as Johnston escorted Gail to her seat, holding her chair for her. Grandpa took the seat on the other side of Heather and Johnston moved to the head of the table, opposite his wife. "Well, I probise I won't bake any pizza," Eric declared, finding April's hand and lifting it to his mouth to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "But I dink I'll be okay at hobe."
"Okay, sweetheart," Gail acknowledged, "But you're welcome to stay. Your Dad's just gonna be watchin' football anyway," she reminded. "So, Johnston," she said, allowing a contented sigh as she surveyed her family, gathered together around the table, "Will you say grace, please?"
"Why don't we join hands?" Johnston requested, reaching for April's and Grandpa's hands. He cleared his throat and began, first expressing thanks for the meal and those who had prepared it, and then asking for a blessing on each person at the table. Continuing, he prayed for family and friends not with them that day, but still close to their hearts. Finally, allowing a deep sigh, he prayed for their country and those affected by the terrorist attacks two months before, asking for comfort and healing for the many families who found themselves, unexpectedly, with an empty chair at their table this year. "Amen," he completed, and in unison, everyone else echoed, "Amen."
"Thank you, son," Grandpa murmured, blinking hard. "This country's come through difficulties before, and is stronger for it. Likely, we'll face hard times in the future," he added, "But we will persevere."
"Very true, Dad," Gail smiled softly, "Very true. Now," she continued a moment later, "Before we eat -"
Eric and Jake interrupted, groaning loudly. "Mom," Jake complained, reaching for the basket of rolls, "We don't have to do this every year."
"Jake, put that down right now," Gail ordered, glaring at her son until he set the basket back down on the table. "There is nothing wrong with taking a few moments to reflect on the things we are thankful for. I'll go first," she decided, sitting back in her chair. "I'm thankful that the whole family is together this year."
"An' I'm dankful dat April is by wife," Eric offered immediately. "An' dat by nose an' by ankle aren't broken," he joked.
"And that you can almost talk," Jake suggested with a snort.
"I am so sorry, Eric," Heather apologized once more.
"Hey, you got be oudda washin' dishes," he shrugged, smiling at her kindly. "Besides, now we'll always remebber dis Danksgiving for sure."
Heather nodded, her stricken expression easing. She offered Eric a soft smile and then glanced at Gail, promising, "I'll wash dishes. Happily."
"And, I'm sure Jake will happily help you," April laughed.
Jake glanced sideways at Heather. "I'll wash," he offered, his hand settling on her knee under the table. "And you can dry, or -"
"Or, how 'bout I wash and you dry," she suggested.
"Even better," he grinned, starting to trace something out on her leg.
Heather looked down at her lap, but couldn't see his hand, which was hidden by the tablecloth. She raised her head, their eyes locking, and concentrated on the movement of his finger against her thigh, though all she could make out was the end of his message, a 'U' or maybe an 'O' followed by what Heather guessed was an exclamation point or possibly an 'i'. She smiled at him and reached under the table, finding his hand and squeezing it.
"So, who's next?" Johnston inquired then, breaking the charged silence that had settled over the dining room. "I'm sure we all wanna eat."
"Well, I do," April declared. "So I'll go, even though Eric stole mine," she chuckled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I'm very glad to be married to Eric, and I'm very thankful that the end of my residency is in sight and I won't be driving ninety miles each way to Rogue River four times a week anymore. Seriously," she sighed happily, "I'll get fifteen hours back a week just on driving."
"I also happen to be thankful that April and Eric got married," Johnston announced, "'Cause after more'na year of wedding planning, I've got my den back. No more boxes of candles and bubbles and Jordan Almonds piled everywhere," he practically crowed, eliciting guilty giggles from Gail and April. "And none of that - that fluffy stuff -"
"Tule?" Gail guessed, her forehead wrinkling. "Kinda lacy netting?"
"That's the stuff," he confirmed, shaking his head. "There were bolts of that stuff in there for months. Never did see where it all ended up, really, but I know I couldn't hardly sit down in there without endin' up on top of some." Johnston smiled at April, laying his hand over hers. "But the wedding was nice, the party was a real good time," he continued, grinning and winking at Gail, "And I've got my den back. Plus, I got a smart, talented and lovely daughter outta the deal, so that's somethin' to be thankful for too," he decided, squeezing April's hand before withdrawing his own.
Beaming, April half stood up, leaning over to kiss Johnston on the cheek. "Thank you, Dad," she said, "I'm thankful for you, too." She sat back down, chuckling softly. "And thanks for the use of your den. Though don't get too comfortable," April teased, casting a sly look in the direction of Heather and Jake. "You never know when it'll be pressed back into service."
Gail, Johnston, Grandpa and Eric all snickered in appreciation, startling Jake and Heather out of the private moment they seemed to be sharing. "What?" Jake grumbled, looking around the table at his family. They all laughed harder.
"Well, I do believe it's all up to this side of the table now," Gail reminded, pointing at Jake, Heather and Grandpa. "Johnston," she added, looking down the table at her husband, "Would you get the wine? And, you can dish up," she told the rest of them, watching as Eric picked at a piece of french-fried onion that had spilled over the side of the green bean casserole. "But no eating yet."
"I'm gonna have to go along with Johnston," Grandpa said, smiling across the table at April. "Always wanted a granddaughter. And, I'm thankful too, of course," he continued, glancing sideways, "That Heather's joining us this year. Hope you're here next year, too, sweetheart," he told her.
"Thank you," Heather acknowledged, giggling softly. "I'm very glad to be here."
Jake, still holding her hand, squeezed it as he scowled at his grandfather over the top of Heather's head. "Get your own girlfriend, Grandpa," he groused, fighting a grin, "And stop tryin' to steal mine."
"Are you steal-able?" Grandpa teased Heather, one eyebrow raised.
She shook her head 'no', laying her head against Jake's shoulder momentarily. "Nope, sorry."
"Too bad," Grandpa returned, shrugging.
"You know, Gramps, I think there's a couple of widows at church who'd be happy to be your girlfriend," April joked. "Mrs. Dolan and Mrs. Zimmermann."
"Ellie Moreno," Gail added with a laugh. "Every time I talk to her, she asks after you."
Grandpa, shifting in his seat, actually looked discomfited by their teasing. A few seconds later, he snorted, suggesting, "I s'pose I could always marry Maggie Henry. We get along like a house afire," he grinned.
Johnston groaned, pouring wine for Heather. "Lord, please save me from Mags Henry as my stepmother," he mumbled, casting his eyes heavenward. "She'd argue me to death."
"Now, now. Maggie and I go way back," Grandpa explained. "You know, she had a bit of a crush on me when she was little girl. Helen, Maggie's older sister was your mother's maid of honor at our wedding," he told Johnston, "And, Maggie and your Aunt Judy were best friends all through school. Used to catch the two of them, followin' me around, gigglin' away."
"Gramps, I dink you just need to play de field," Eric suggested, dishing up cranberry sauce for himself. "Why limit yourself to jus' one widow?"
"Eric," April complained, socking him lightly on the arm. "Play the field?" she laughed.
"I'b injured," he frowned in return, rubbing his arm.
"Not there, you're not," she shot back. A second later, though, she leaned over and gave him a peck of a kiss.
"Well, the fact of the matter is," Grandpa sighed, "I was married to the love of my life for fifty-one years. Couldn't ask for more than I've already had. Besides," he declared, forcing a smile, "All those widows are good cooks and bakers, and I don't wanna offend a one of 'em."
Everyone chuckled in response, and then Gail shocked them all by picking up a roll and lobbing it down the table at her father-in-law. They all stared at her, open-mouthed. Johnston was the first to recover, and laughing, he pointed an accusing finger at his wife. "Abigail Margaret O'Brien Green," he joked, "There is no throwin' food in this house."
"Yeah," Eric and Jake agreed, nodding vigorously as they stared, wide-eyed at their mother.
"What?" she argued, straightening in her chair. "That was for poor Ellie Moreno," Gail insisted, folding her hands primly in front of her. Everyone burst into laughter once more.
"Can we eat?" Eric requested as they began to settle down. He stared at his plate longingly. "I'b hungry an' da food's gettin' cold."
"We've got two more," Gail insisted. "Heather, Jake?"
"Be quick," Eric commanded.
Jake draped his arm over the back of Heather's chair, cupping her shoulder with his hand. She glanced sideways at him, smiling, and then they both started to speak. Surprised, she stopped, nodding at him to continue. "Well," Jake said, his eyes on Heather, "Since Gramps stole mine, I guess I'll just have to say that I'm thankful for a blown tire and Jericho, Vermont."
"There's a Jericho, Vermont?" April asked.
"Yeah," Heather nodded, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from Jake. "I thought - I thought I was applying for a job there, and it turned out I was applying for a job here."
"Well, Vermont's loss is our gain," Johnston smiled.
"Thank you," Heather nodded, beginning to blush. Jake withdrew his arm from around her shoulders and everyone knew it was so he could take her hand underneath the table. "I - I guess it's my turn," Heather decided, inhaling deeply. "Well, it was my blown tire, so I suppose I can be thankful for it, too," she chuckled before taking another long breath. "And I'm thankful that Jericho, Kansas," she emphasized, "Really - really feels like home."
Gail smiled widely at her family. "Now we can eat," she announced.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, November 23, two months after the bombs
Jake and Heather returned to the dining room to find that April and Michael had joined the rest of the family. A fourth place had been set on one side, and Jake unfolded the chair, fitting it underneath the table. "There you go, Mike," he said, grinning at his brother-in-law.
"Thanks," Michael muttered, rolling his eyes. "You know, they used to stick me with a folding chair at the kids' table, too."
"And you used to flip it back so you'd fall through," Heather accused, chuckling. "Dad always had to unfold you. You were a menace."
"That did not happen," Michael insisted, his tone entirely too defensive.
Heather shook her head at him, allowing Jake to wrap one arm around her. "Oh it did," she giggled. "I remember, you were probably about four, and there you were, stickin' out of that chair, olives on every finger, screaming 'Daddy!'"
"Aw, man, Mike," Jeff snickered, giving everyone else assembled around the table permission to laugh out loud.
"One time, maybe," Michael conceded with a groan, "But not always."
"It was more than once," Heather replied, a sad smile settling on her face. Her eyes locked with Michael's and she realized they were thinking the same thing: would they ever see their father and the rest of their family again? "You know," Heather began again a few seconds later, clearing her throat, "I was thinking that next year we should put you in charge of the kids' table. We might actually need one. But I don't know that I trust you to behave, Uncle Mikey," she teased.
"No thanks," Michael declared, holding up one hand. "You're just trying to trick me into doing diaper duty. I don't babysit until they're toilet-trained."
"Oh, you know how to change a diaper," Heather argued, throwing her husband a significant look. "It's Jake I'm gonna have to train."
"All I remember agreeing to is having a kid, not to changing any diapers," Jake protested.
"That part was implied," Heather returned, smiling sweetly.
Everyone laughed again, harder this time, though Gail noticed that it was a moment before Emily, smiling uncomfortably, joined in. "Good luck with that, sweetheart," Gail told Heather as she continued to watch Emily, noting that she was also the first to stop laughing. "Why don't we all sit," Gail suggested a moment later, taking a deep breath. "The food's getting cold, and I know we're all hungry. Kenchy," she said, turning to address the doctor, "Would you mind pouring the wine? My brother Dennis moved to Napa thirty years ago, and he always sends me a case for my birthday. I've got two bottles left, and tonight seems like a good time to finish them off," she decided.
"Here you go, babe," Jake murmured, seating Heather in the chair next to the folding chair, which Michael accepted with a minimal amount of grumbling. He took the seat on the other side of his wife for himself.
Gail frowned, watching as Emily started toward the still-open chair on Jake's right. "Emily, why don't you sit here," she requested, laying one hand on the back of the middle chair on the other side of the table. "With Kenchy and Jeff."
"Of course," the younger woman agreed, pasting a smile on her face. She moved past Jake, drawing her hand across his shoulders, and then walked around to the other side of the table. "Thank you."
"Seven for wine, I assume?" Dhuwalia asked, uncorking the first bottle and looking around the table for confirmation.
Johnston also surveyed the table, standing behind April as he helped her into the chair next to Jake. "Yes, thank you Kenchy," he agreed, seating Gail at the end of the table between April and Jeff before moving to his own chair, opposite.
Dhuwalia moved around the table, pouring wine for everyone, save Heather and April, before finding his chair between Emily and Johnston. With everyone seated, Gail caught her husband's eye. "Johnston," she prompted.
He nodded and cleared his throat. "Shall we pray?" Johnston suggested, bowing his head. "We - We thank you, God," he began a long moment later, a hesitant note sounding in his voice. "We thank you that we are together this evening, with food and friendship to share," he declared. "And, never far from our thoughts, we ask for Your continued protection of our families, both - both those who are with us and those who are absent from us," Johnston sighed. "We pray for - for our town, and for our state, and nation. And, lastly," he concluded, "We ask for the continued blessing of safety and health. Amen."
"Amen," everyone else said in unison, raising their heads. Gail, facing Johnston across the table, smiled understandingly and mouthed 'Thank you' before announcing, "We can eat."
"But - But we haven't done our 'thankful fors'," April protested, frowning as she looked back and forth between Gail and Johnston.
"We really don't have to do this every year," Jake groaned.
Gail looked flustered. "Well - I just thought - I suppose -" she broke off, taking a deep breath before facing her daughter-in-law with a weak smile. "Of course, we should do it, I just wasn't sure anyone would want to."
"Well, I want to," April murmured, smiling in return. "I - I think I need to, this year especially." She looked around the table, including everyone else in her announcement. "The rest of you don't have to," April decided, "But I want to."
"Of course, sweetheart," Gail repeated, laying her hand over April's. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake's head drop. He was studying his still bare plate, and he looked a little frayed around the edges. Gail doubted he'd eaten anything since breakfast; she was well aware that the 'box of protein bars down at town hall' were long gone, despite her sons' continued references to them when they thought they couldn't take the time to let her feed them. "Let's eat while the food's still warm though," she suggested, watching Jake. "And, April you can start us off?"
Pursing her lips, April nodded. "Sure," she agreed, distracted momentarily by the dishes being passed around. "I - I'm thankful that my child will be raised here, in this family," April declared, smiling softly as she looked around the table. "With grandparents and her aunt and uncle. Uncles, I should say," she corrected herself, glancing down the length of the table at Michael. "And a cousin," she added, accepting the bowl of instant stuffing Gail passed to her. "I'm just really thankful for that."
"You're - You're pregnant?" Emily asked, staring across the table at April, her wineglass held, forgotten, mid-air.
"I am," April confirmed a few seconds later. She remembered then - too late - that Emily and Mary Bailey were friends. She felt a twinge of guilt followed by an overwhelming wave of anger; it would serve Eric right if Emily broke the news of her pregnancy to Mary before he did. It was, she reminded herself, feeling inexplicably sad, no longer her responsibility to worry about Eric. "I am," she repeated, meeting Emily's gaze evenly. "Nine weeks."
"That certainly leads nicely into what I'm most thankful for this year," Gail interjected before Emily could respond. "Which is that I'm going to be a grandma," she declared, smiling at April, Jake and Heather. "I've always tried not to -"
"Push!" the rest of the Greens present proclaimed in unison, laughing, with the other four - even Emily - joining in a few seconds later.
"Well, it's not pushing when there are already babies on the way," Gail chuckled, starting to blush. "And, besides," she concluded, helping herself to a small portion of chicken breast before passing the platter to Jeff, "I've been waiting a very long time."
"One might even say patiently," Johnston said, grinning at his wife from the other end of the table. He raised his wine glass to her and toasted, "To your patience, Mrs. Green."
Gail smiled in return, relieved to see that some of the strain that had seemed to weigh so heavily on Johnston all day had finally left his expression. She lamented Eric's choices as much as her husband did, but she'd also decided to let all that go for the night, and concentrate on celebrating those assembled around her table. Gail hoped that Johnston would be able to do the same. "Well, that's mine. I'm thankful to be a grandma-to-be. And for the record," she added, glancing at her daughters-in-law, "I do change diapers."
"Good to know," Heather acknowledged with a grin. "More importantly, can you train him?" she asked pointing at Jake.
Jake rolled his eyes. "You all think you're so funny," he complained before snaking one arm around Heather and leaning over to kiss the side of her head.
"Am I supposed to go next?" Jeff asked a few seconds later, his expression turning nervous as he realized that everyone was looking at him expectantly. "This goes counter-clockwise?" he guessed, cringing slightly.
"We're not really that organized with this whole thing," Johnston answered after swallowing a forkful of canned peas. "And unless you're anticipatin' becomin' a grandpa sometime soon, I think I'd like to go next."
"Sure," Jeff agreed, letting out a relieved breath.
"Don't worry, Jake," Johnston began, grinning at his son over the top of his wineglass, "I'm not gonna start by outlinin' my stance on diapers. Though I hafta say, I've changed my share, and a lot of 'em were yours," he snorted. "I will say what I'm thankful for though, and that would be the promise I think we all find in these new children our family's waiting to welcome with open arms." Johnston smiled widely at Heather and April. "I got daughters rather late in life and they came full grown, so I'll just add that I think I'd enjoy havin' a little girl 'round here. Maybe even two."
Heather and April glanced at one another, sharing somewhat watery smiles, both issuing a sniffly "Awwwww!"
Stuck in rather close quarters between Jake and Michael, Heather tried to shove her chair back, accidentally bumping her brother. "Oh I see how you are," Michael accused jokingly, "Trying to fold me up like when we were kids."
"Sorry," Heather apologized distractedly over her shoulder as Jake offered her his hand to help her stand. April also vacated her chair, following Heather around the table to Johnston's side. Smiling gently at her father-in-law, Heather bent over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "We'll see what we can do," she promised before moving aside so April could kiss Johnston on the cheek as well.
"Johnston Green always has been a bit of a silver-tongued devil," Gail informed the table, chuckling.
"It got you to marry me, didn't it?" he returned, grinning at her. Gail conceded the point with a nod, laughing harder.
"I thought we were saying 'he' today," Jake teased a moment later, helping Heather back into her seat.
"We were," she confirmed, kissing him quickly before laying a finger over his lips to prevent a response. "But 'Grandpa' says 'she'." Heather scooted her chair forward a half inch, looking around the table for a few seconds before deciding, "I guess I'll go next. And, believe it or not," she sighed, "My 'I'm thankful for' doesn't include a mention of babies." This statement earned her a few chuckles, and Heather smiled, clarifying, "Not that I'm not thankful for babies, but we used to have rules against repeating someone else's 'thankful for' around here."
"Never had rules," Johnston contradicted, winking at her, "Just lots of accusations of theft."
"True," Heather acknowledged with a giggle. "Still, I'm goin' with something new," she decided. "And, what I'm thankful for is Jake's good timing and Mikey's sense of direction."
Jake, swallowing a bite of chicken, threw her a surprised look. "My good timing?"
"Hey, you made your plane in Iraq," she shrugged, laying her hand over his on the table. Jake immediately turned his palm up, threading his fingers through hers. "You're not still in Iraq - you're here. That was pretty good timing," Heather said, squeezing his hand.
"Yeah, and I was even almost home before -" Jake started to joke, stopping when he caught sight of Heather's suddenly bright eyes. "Well, I got home. I guess that's good timing," he murmured.
Heather took a deep breath, forcing a smile as she looked around the table. "I'm thankful that I have my husband, and now my brother, with me."
Emily finished off her wine in one large gulp, prompting Dhuwalia to reach for the remaining bottle, which was still about half full. "More?" he asked, beginning to pour for her even before she managed an emphatic nod.
"Aw man, Heather," Jeff chuckled as her gaze slid over to him, "I hate to break this to you, but Mike's sense of direction isn't that good. He got us lost a coupl'a times."
"Hey, we're in Kansas, aren't we?" Michael snorted, fighting a grin. "What more d'ya want?"
"Finally had to make Drake the official navigator," Jeff explained, rolling his eyes at his friend. "He can at least read a map. But, I guess that's what I'm thankful for," he shrugged, swallowing hard. "My two best friends, and that we actually got here. We're eating Thanksgiving dinner," he laughed, shaking his head, "That's pretty unbelievable, to be honest. And, oh!" he declared a beat later, grinning across the table at Heather, "For the record, I've never in my life changed a diaper."
"Another one for your training class, Mom," April laughed, stabbing together a forkful of chicken and stuffing.
Next to her, Jake groaned. "Yeah, yeah, let's just keep floggin' this particular dead horse."
"Oh, it's not dead, hon," Heather teased, throwing him pointed look. "Trust me."
"I think - I think I'll go next," Emily decided, setting her utensils down on her plate. She flashed a tight smile before taking a breath. "I'm thankful for good friends - all of you - to share Thanksgiving with," she said before reaching again for her wineglass.
"And, we're glad to have you with us, Emily," Gail replied graciously.
The younger woman smiled brightly at her hostess. "Thank you, Gail."
A momentary lull fell over the table as everyone concentrated on the first truly substantial meal any of them had eaten in weeks. Dishes were passed back and forth, each person taking a small bit of this or that, no one wanting to be the one who polished off the potatoes or the peas or the stuffing.
"It was your chicken," Jake argued, dividing a piece of breast meat in two before plopping half of it on Heather's plate. "Just take it," he insisted, turning to deposit the second piece on April's plate. There were two wings and a leg left on the platter, and he looked around the table, offering these pieces up with a glance. "Mike? Dad?" he asked, "Kenchy? Jeff? Em?" Johnston, Jeff and Emily all shook their heads 'no', but Michael took the leg, and Dhuwalia reached for the smaller of the wings, leaving Jake with the last piece. "Mom?" he said, holding the plate out to her.
"You take it, Jake," Gail smiled. "But I'll take the stuffing, if no one wants it," she decided.
"This is my first official American Thanksgiving," Dhuwalia announced suddenly, his grin uncharacteristically hesitant. "I've seen it on television of course," he admitted with a soft chuckle. "The Brady Bunch and The Waltons. And my mother, she always liked to watch Who's the Boss? for some reason."
Emily laughed at that, letting her hand rest on Dhuwalia's forearm. "I think I know where you get your preference for blonds," she told him.
"Oh, I'm quite certain my interest in blonds is a reaction to the childhood trauma caused by my sisters' refusal to let me anywhere near their Barbie dolls," Dhuwalia returned, smirking.
"Is that it?" Emily giggled, leaning closer.
"And, your mother was probably just enjoying the fantasy of a male housekeeper," Gail suggested with a laugh. "A man who cooks and cleans."
"Perhaps," Dhuwalia acknowledged, nodding at Gail. "My father always called it 'that horrid Tony show'," he recounted, "And I never thought that was just because of the plots and the acting. So I do know what Thanksgiving looked like on television," he continued, sighing. "And, it wasn't exactly like this. There are supposed to be leftovers, for one thing, yes?"
"Turkey leftovers," April sighed, closing her eyes momentarily as she savored the idea. "Gorge yourself on Thanksgiving and then eat turkey sandwiches on spongy white bread with mayo for the rest of the weekend."
"Craving much?" Heather teased, looking around Jake to catch her sister-in-law's eye.
April laughed, wrinkling her nose in return. "Oh, be quiet," she commanded with a joking grumble.
"I believe I'm glad to have experienced my first Thanksgiving here in Jericho with all of you," Dhuwalia said then, sitting back in his chair. "For some reason I doubt Thanksgiving in Las Vegas would have been like Thanksgiving on television either," he chuckled.
Everyone smiled or laughed along with him, and Jake and Johnston both shook their heads. "Uh, no," they confirmed, almost in unison.
"What I am thankful for - this is how I do this?" Dhuwalia asked, interrupting himself. Gail nodded. "Then, I am thankful for the brothers' Green," he declared softly, looking across the table at Jake. "And, for Randy Payton," he added, lifting his glass to toast his fallen patient, protector and friend.
Jake frowned, fumbling slightly as he reached for his own glass. "To Randy Payton," he echoed, "May he rest in peace." Both men drank and then, after setting his glass back down on the table, Jake felt Heather lay her hand over the top of his. He glanced at her, losing himself for a few seconds in her open, sympathetic expression. Jake had only ever shared the bare minimum of information regarding what had happened in Rogue River with Heather, but she knew that Payton had probably saved their lives at the cost of his own. Gripping his wife's hand tightly, Jake faced Dhuwalia, exchanging grim smiles.
"I'm thankful, too, for a colleague who allows me to share her clinic," Dhuwalia continued, clearing his throat. April met his gaze with a surprised look that drew a genuine, if slight, smile from him. "I'm sure the staff would find that hard to believe," he admitted with a dry chuckle. "But just because we disagree on almost every point -"
"Medical and otherwise," April interjected with an almost light-hearted laugh that brought grins to the faces of the rest of the family.
Dhuwalia nodded, agreeing, "Medical and otherwise. But please know, despite our differences, I understand and respect your dedication."
"And I respect yours," April declared, raising her water glass to Dhuwalia.
"Now see, children," Johnston teased, looking back and forth between the two doctors, "Was that so hard?"
April made a noise somewhere between a groan and a giggle. "Tell you what, Kenchy," she sighed, "I promise not to disagree with you on any course of treatment for the next forty-eight hours."
"A noble gesture," Dhuwalia laughed, "Especially as I thought you weren't planning to work for the next three days unless we suffered a dire emergency," he reminded.
"I worked this morning," April countered, "And do you know how many years I have been trying to get Thanksgiving weekend off?"
"As long as I've known her," Heather explained helpfully, folding her hands over her pregnant belly.
"We have dessert," Gail announced then, "Pudding, not pie, but at least it's something sweet. I'll bring it out as soon as our last two go," she prompted. "Jake? Michael?"
"I thought this was optional," Jake argued, sitting back in his chair. "You said we didn't all have to do it," he grumbled, glaring softly at April.
"It was," Gail agreed, "But now it's not, at least not if you want pudding."
"And that makes me thankful for pudding," Michael declared with a grin. "Or do you wanna go first, Jake?" he asked, glancing sideways, past his sister, at his brother-in-law.
"Hey, knock yourself out," Jake replied with a smirk, draping his arm across the back of Heather's chair.
Michael considered his answer for a moment, frowning softly. "I guess - I guess I'm thankful that I'm alive," he began tentatively. "And, I'm here, and it's safe. I've got friends who are like - like my brothers, and I still have a family," Michael shrugged, offering his sister a slight smile. "I'm gonna be an uncle again."
Heather, her eyes once again suspiciously bright, nodded and reached for Michael's hand, squeezing it tightly. "We still - very definitely - have a family," she confirmed, smoothing her shirt down over her rounded belly with her free hand. "And you do get to be an uncle again -"
"Twice," April interjected, her tone husky.
"Yeah," Michael agreed, clearing his throat. "Plus, now I get pudding," he attempted to joke. "So, Jake, you're up."
"Sure, make the girls cry why doncha," Jake grumbled, dropping his arm around Heather's shoulder, hugging her awkwardly. A second later, he scooted toward her, kissing her temple and asking quietly enough that only she could hear, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she assured, twisting around to meet his gaze. "I'm great," Heather amended, beaming, though her eyes still glistened with unshed tears. She peeled his hand off her shoulder and lifted his arm back over her head to press his hand to the side of her abdomen. "Baby woke up," Heather explained to the table. "Apparently she enjoyed her grandparents' cooking as much as the rest of us," she laughed. "Not to mention Uncle Jeff's butchering efforts, thank you very much," she added, grinning across the table at the young man.
"Well, that I know how to do," Jeff reminded with a shrug. "Easy."
"So, you're feeling a lot of movement now, or just a little?" Dhuwalia asked, affecting what Heather thought of as his 'professional face'. "It's a good sign that you are, especially given the circumstances."
"At first, it was just little flutterings, like when it tickles because the wind blows your hair across your face," Heather answered. "It's gotten steadily stronger. And, Jake's been able to feel her for the last four, five days?" she guessed, looking sideways at her husband for confirmation.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice curiously thick. "And, him," Jake corrected, clearing his throat.
"Him, her, I have no idea," Heather confessed, shaking her head. "All I know is when Jake pokes him," she emphasized, grinning at Jake, "He pokes back. I'm starting to feel a little pummeled," she sighed, rubbing her palm in slow circles over the mound of the child she carried. "I'm a little scared about what this is gonna feel like in three or four months."
"That's the Green genes," Gail laughed. "Active babies that just seem to want out. I swear Jake and Eric didn't let me sleep a wink the whole last month. Of course, I didn't realize there were two of them, and they were fighting over space."
Heather groaned, giggling softly. "Now you tell me! And," she added with a sigh, glancing sideways at her husband, "One is entirely sufficient."
"Oh, you can tell this kid's got some Lisinski genes in 'im," Jake grinned, stroking the side Heather's tummy with his thumb. He looked over her at Michael. "Kid's throwin' elbows like you wouldn't believe."
"Elbows?" Dhuwalia repeated, his expression turning confused. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Emily poured more wine into her glass. She studied the bottle closely for a moment and, with a shrug, poured the last few drops into his glass, offering him a shaky smile. 'Thank you," he murmured.
"Ice hockey," Johnston explained, drawing Dhuwalia's attention away from his neighbor. "Official sport of the Lisinski clan."
"That's right," April nodded. "You better watch out Heather," she warned with a smile. "You're never gonna see that kid. Jake's gonna have her out on the diamond all summer, and Mikey'll keep her out on the pond all winter."
"Probably," Heather agreed, smiling in return. "But don't think yours won't be right out there with 'em."
"No doubt," April returned, wrapping her arms around herself.
"This is what I'm thankful for," Jake announced then, laying his hand over the top of Heather's. He glanced around the table, making eye contact with both of his parents before turning to face his wife again, their gazes locking. "I'm thankful that I'm here, with my family. And I'm really grateful," he added, squeezing Heather's hand, "That in four, four and a half months, I'm gonna be a dad."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *