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Different Circumstances: Part 12C
by Marzee Doats

Author's Note: This part contains more of the seamier side of life after the bombs, but nothing as chilling as in Part 12A.

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

Wednesday, December 6, two and a half months after the bombs

"So, are we washing sheets today because you think I need to be distracted?" Heather asked her mother-in-law as she folded back the blankets and quilts that were now piled for warmth on the bed she shared with Jake. "Because you think I'm gonna worry all day about Jake?" she added, sighing and yanking the top sheet loose from where it was tucked in at the foot of the bed. "And Mikey? And Dad and Dale?"

"Honey, we're washing sheets because I need to be distracted from worrying about Johnston and Jake and Michael and Dale," Gail laughed, offering Heather a sympathetic smile. "Of course," she continued, dropping the bundle of sheets she'd just stripped off the bed in April's room on the floor, "I thought maybe you could use some distraction, too." She moved around the side of the bed and began to pull pillows out of pillowcases. "And the sheets are certainly long overdue to be washed!" Gail declared.

"Right," Heather acknowledged. She reached for a pillow - her pillow - surprised to see a folded piece of lined notebook paper lying on the sheet beneath it. Her name was printed across the front in Jake's familiar, bold handwriting.

Gail, working the fitted sheet off one corner of the mattress, paused in her efforts. "What'd you find?"

"Uh, Jake left me a note," Heather answered, opening the message with less than steady hands. She couldn't help but wonder what Jake would need to put in writing, rather than tell her in person. "I - I think," she chuckled, pursing her lips. She looked down at the paper and broke into relieved, amused giggles. "Of course," Heather murmured to herself, grinning and shaking her head.

Jake's message was actually a drawing, reminiscent of a number of drawings - often scribbled alongside his notes of a meeting he'd attended - that had shown up for her on the fax machine in Grandpa Green's study over the years. At the top of the sheet he'd sketched an airplane, a Cessna, Heather recognized, just like the one owned by Jayhawk Aviation which Jake had piloted when he'd taken her to Dolly Doolittle's for the first time, and on numerous other occasions. Below the plane he'd drawn three smiling stick figure people: a man, a woman, and a baby, identifiable as such by the helpful clues of a bonnet, rattle and diaper, and the fact that it was only half as tall as the other two people. Jake had labeled the stick people 'me, you & B.G.' and, in the very bottom corner, he'd scrawled, 'Love you both. Back soon. Jake'.

Heather felt tears prick behind her eyes even as she laughed out loud. Shaking her head, she planted one knee on the mattress, leaning across the bed to hold the note out to Gail. "You'll get a kick out of this, Mom," she assured, waving the slip of paper at the older woman. "It's just so - so Jake."

Abandoning her sheet stripping duties for the moment, Gail accepted the note, coming around the bed to join Heather, who had perched herself - one leg folded underneath her, one foot still on the floor - on the edge of the bed. Gail seated herself facing her daughter-in-law. "Naturally the plane is drawn to perfection," she chuckled, studying the drawing. "Looks like it belongs in a brochure or a catalog, something."

"It's a Cessna," Heather explained, smiling. "Whenever I went with Jake be - before, we always went in the Cessna. And, yeah," she laughed, smoothing her sweatshirt down over her pregnant belly, "Jake does always draw perfect airplanes."

"That he does. And I must say, you make an absolutely lovely stick figure," Gail teased, returning the note to Heather. "I especially like the triangle skirt."

"Well, I'm glad he decided against drawing me as a pregnant stick figure," Heather said, emitting a soft snort. "And I can only wish for my hair to flip under so well as that."

Gail chuckled appreciatively. "It certainly flatters you."

"But Jake's self portrait - if a stick figure self portrait is possible - really doesn't do him justice," Heather decided, studying the picture, a small smile blooming on her lips.

"I'll admit I'm biased," Gail sighed, "But I have to agree."

Nodding, Heather folded the note so that the stick figures faced out, grinning at her. She turned in her seat, propping it against the base of the lamp that still stood on the nightstand. "That's something to hold onto."

"Your first family picture," her mother-in-law suggested, "After a fashion, anyway."

"Yes," Heather giggled, her face lighting at the thought. "I like that." She rotated back around, smiling. "Oh!" she exclaimed a second later, reaching for Gail's hand. "Here," Heather insisted, pressing her mother-in-law's hand to the side of her rounded belly. "Can - can you feel that?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

"I sure can," Gail answered after a moment. She grinned at her daughter-in-law. "That's a Green baby, for sure." Leaning closer, she addressed Heather's abdomen as she continued to rub her hand over the tight mound of her daughter-in-law's pregnancy. "Hello in there. Hello, little one. I'm your Grandma, and I can't wait to meet you and your cousin. Though, please wait four months to introduce yourself," she added as an afterthought, sitting back and giving Heather a sheepish look. "I couldn't resist," Gail admitted.

Heather caught her mother-in-law's hand as she withdrew it, squeezing it quickly before letting go. "I talk to him - or her - quite a bit myself," she confessed. "And, well, you didn't hear it from me, but Jake and B.G. have some amazing conversations."

Gail flashed a delighted smile. "And, what do they talk about, may I ask?"

"Whatever's on Jake's mind," Heather replied. "Last night he complained to B.G. about his B plus for a good ten minutes," she grumbled, looking back over her shoulder to check the time on her trusty travel alarm clock. "They - they should be almost there," she decided. "Black Jack's two hundred miles away, and Jake promised to go forty five, maybe fifty, to conserve gas. Especially on the way, since they're hauling all that extra weight."

"Jake?"

"Well, yeah," Heather giggled quietly, conceding the point with a nod. "But I told Dad, too. Just to be safe."

"Smart thinkin'," her mother-in-law complimented. "But, honey, you're gonna drive yourself crazy, keeping track of the time and worrying about them."

Heather grunted, making a frustrated noise. "I know," she said, "It's just hard not to."

"It is," Gail returned, her expression full of understanding. She scooted an inch or two closer, reaching over to pat her daughter-in-law's hand. "You know, Johnston asked me right away if he could go with Jake. I didn't want to say yes," she confessed with a frown, "But I did - I had to - because I know that the two of them working together, that's formidable. I trust that they'll be okay. I have to, and so should you. Of course," Gail said, shaking her head, "I didn't realize Michael and Dale were going, too."

"Okay, reminding me about that is not making me feel better," Heather complained, rolling her eyes. "Though, for just a little bit there," she admitted, cringing, "I was kinda planning to go myself."

"Heather!" Gail scolded.

"And, that is a much milder look than I expected from you," her daughter-in-law chuckled.

"Only because you obviously came to your senses," Gail argued. "I can't - I can't even...!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Well, I was talked out of it pretty darn quickly," Heather sighed, "It's just - I want - I need - I need to do my part. I need to be involved in - in determining my own fate, I guess. But then...." She looked down at her middle, resting her hand on the curve of her abdomen. "Priorities, right?"

Gail pressed her hand over Heather's, squeezing her daughter-in-law's fingers. "Most definitely. And this is a very important priority, for all of us," she smiled. "But now," she prompted, starting to stand.

"Back to work?" Heather guessed, lifting herself up off the bed.

"Back to work," Gail confirmed. "Those sheets aren't going to wash themselves, and the distraction will do us good."

Nodding, Heather stepped toward her mother-in-law, pulling her into a quick hug. "Thanks, Mom."

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

Thursday, December 6, five years before the bombs

"The vice and virtue squad," Heather whispered against Jake's lips, giggling almost soundlessly. They both froze mid-kiss as they listened to Grandpa Green stomp up the stairs and then past Jake's bedroom door. He continued down the hall a bit before looping back, still making an inordinate amount of noise as he clomped his way back down the staircase.

Heather finally broke their kiss, falling back onto the mattress, grinning up at Jake. "Hey," she murmured.

"Hey," he returned, dipping his head to cover her mouth with his own. Jake, however, didn't try to deepen the kiss, instead keeping it completely chaste. They'd spent most of the preceding ten minutes kissing, but just kissing. Jake hadn't trust himself to know when to - hell, to be able to - stop if they went any further, and he'd unfortunately been quite cognizant of his mother's and grandfather's presence downstairs. At one point his hand had found its way under Heather's sweatshirt but he'd withdrawn it quickly when he'd realized she wasn't wearing anything but a bra - if that - underneath. He'd forced himself to be content - and he was - simply to have Heather back in his arms, her mouth on his, making the happy and excited little noises that he loved and that drove him crazy.

"I think that was a warning," he breathed, brushing his lips over hers. He combed one hand through her hair, fanned out across the bedspread, groaning quietly. "Next time -"

"Gramps'll knock," she completed for him, flashing a wry grin. "And, after that, he'll come in." Jake nodded; that was his grandfather's modus operandi, one they were both quite familiar with. "Guess we only get a half hour to make up," Heather decided, allowing a frustrated chuckle. "Maybe - maybe we better go down?" she yawned, lifting her hand to his chest, clutching his t-shirt in her fist. She apologized immediately. "Sorry, I haven't been sleeping well."

"Yeah, me either," Jake admitted. He forced himself to sit up, holding his hand out to Heather to help her up. She accepted, and he tugged her to her feet and then into a hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. His stomach growled, loudly, and she pulled away, throwing him a concerned look.

"I interrupted your dinner when I came in, didn't I?" Heather realized, frowning. "Jake."

He shook his head 'no'. "You didn't," Jake argued, knitting their fingers together and trying to draw her back into his arms. "My Mom was heating something up for me, but I wasn't gonna eat it," he explained. "I was on my way out. To come see you."

"Oh," she acknowledged softly, a pleased grin creeping onto her face.

"Guess you beat me to it by a half hour," he shrugged. "But I needed to take a shower. And shave," he added, starting to smile as she ran one finger along his jaw before cupping his cheek.

"I thought you were unusually smooth," Heather murmured, her fingers playing over his skin so that Jake had to concentrate on not reacting. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser's mirror then, and turned, groaning and giggling, to study her reflection. "And I look mauled," she laughed, rolling her eyes for his benefit, "Like always. The curse of naturally straight hair."

"Sorry, babe," he smirked unrepentantly into the mirror.

Shaking her head, Heather tried finger combing her hair into place, but gave it up when she remembered her purse. Turning, she slipped past Jake, catching his eye and trailing the fingers of one hand over his stomach. "Why?" Heather asked, grinning over her shoulder at him. "I'm not."

Chuckling appreciatively, he watched as she had to all but climb across the mattress to retrieve her handbag, which had been shoved to the side and teetered precariously on the far edge of the bed. Digging through her purse, Heather returned to stand in front of the dresser. She found her comb, pulling it out with a triumphant flourish, and then deposited her purse on top of the bureau. Looking into the mirror, her eyes locked again with Jake's in their mutual reflection and he smiled at her so that she practically went weak in the knees.

A rosy blush suffused Heather's skin, and she glanced down, noticing the napkin with Jake's 'H.L + J.G.' doodle on it, noticing the care with which he'd smoothed the paper out and placed it on the dresser. The napkin lay alongside two photos from their trip to Wyoming, the two that she - coincidentally - considered her favorites: the one of them kissing outside of Dolly Doolittle's, and the one of them at the airport, standing in front of the plane, Jake embracing her from behind, his cheek pressed to hers. She recalled now how, a week or two after their trip, Jake had asked if he could use her computer to print out a couple of the Wyoming pictures for himself. Heather had been in the middle of her weekly round of phone calls to the parents of her most academically and behaviorally challenged students and, throwing him a distracted smile, had waved him toward the computer. She hadn't seen his choices until this moment.

"So, when did you draw this?" she asked, pointing to the napkin with her comb. Watching him in the mirror, Heather started her repair job by fixing the part in her hair.

"Uh, I dunno," Jake replied, shifting from foot to foot and looking extremely discomfited. "Don't remember. Just some time when I was in Denver for work," he added, though there was something about his uncomfortable expression that convinced Heather that his lapse of memory was feigned, and that he knew exactly when he'd drawn the picture.

"Okay," she acknowledged with a nod, the gentlest of grins lifting the corners of her mouth. It occurred to her then that he had a bit of a sentimental streak. Keeping the photos around was one thing, but the napkin? Just because he'd drawn their initials enclosed in a heart? That was sweet, bordering on sappy, Heather decided, quickly turning away from Jake, and bending over, ostensibly to comb her hair, but in actuality to hide from him the giant and no doubt idiotic-looking smile she knew she was now wearing.

Reveling in the evidence of the depth of Jake's feelings for her, Heather worked on her hair, and on schooling her features to not betray so much of her delight. Jake always groaned and complained when she called him or anything he'd done 'sweet', and so Heather resisted the impulse to do so this time. Standing back up, she caught a glimpse of her now even wilder hair in the mirror but ignored it, instead turning and taking the two steps necessary to eliminate the space between her and Jake. "Well, I couldn't agree more," she told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Heather Lisinski plus Jake Green, forever," she grinned, twining her free arm around his neck, her lips meeting his. "Though you forgot the forever," she chided, smiling against his mouth as Jake wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I can fix that," Jake suggested, his hands resting possessively on her hips. He kissed her, teasing her lower lip and inquiring huskily, "So, Miss Lisinski, when I spell 'forever' with the number four, does 'ever' have one 'e' or two?"

"If it's all caps, E-V-R," Heather answered with a giggle. "But lower case, both Es, definitely."

"Got it," he assured her, pressing his mouth to hers one last time before letting her go. "Fix your hair," he ordered jokingly, moving to the bedside table where he began to search the drawer. Heather quickly tamed her hair to her satisfaction, glad that it no longer looked like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. "Can't find a pen," Jake muttered, shoving the drawer closed.

"I've got one," Heather assured, dropping her comb back into her purse and producing a pen. She turned around, holding it out to Jake who accepted it in trade for a kiss. He leaned over, quickly adding '4EVR' inside the heart below their initials. Heather planted a kiss on his cheek and declared, "Perfect." Finding his hand, she laced their fingers together before taking a step back, their hands still connected. "How do I look? Unmauled?"

"Gorgeous," Jake proclaimed, "And completely unmauled. Gramps and Mom will never know that we've been making out."

Heather snorted in response. "Yeah, right. In my Buff State sweatshirt. But thank you."

"Well, I mean it," he argued, tugging her back into his arms. "I don't say things I don't mean, not to you," Jake told her, earning himself a rather pleased smile. They heard Grandpa's familiar stomp on the stairs as soon as their lips met, and broke apart, both groaning. "Warning number two," Jake muttered.

"Yeah," Heather sighed, offering him a regretful smile. "Wanna beat him to the punch?" she asked.

Nodding, Jake folded their hands together and, after waiting for Heather to grab her purse off the dresser, he led her to the door, opening it just in time to interrupt his grandfather's initial knock. "Hey, Gramps," he greeted, "Need somethin'?"

"Just returnin' your shoes," Grandpa declared, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looked Jake and Heather over. "Here," he muttered, shoving Jake's running shoes into his arms.

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

Wednesday, December 6, two and a half months after the bombs

They had only been at Black Jack for a little over a half hour, but Jake already knew that he didn't like the place. Johnston had advised that they be quick and get out of Dodge post haste, and for once, Jake was in complete agreement with his father. Wanting to finish their business and get back on the road home, they'd divided up, Johnston and Dale going to trade for the store and the town, and Jake and Michael to locate the governor.

Jake had more than a passing acquaintance with the seamier side of life and he'd been in more red light districts over the years than he could count. The drug and sex trades often went hand in hand, especially, it seemed, when he'd been working undercover. Still, it had been awhile since Jake had been propositioned in that manner - those places were a little harder to find in Afghanistan and Iraq and, given the nature of his assignment, he'd had no reason to be in them - and for a split second he'd been too surprised to respond. It had surprised him even more when his brother-in-law had answered for them both, brusquely assuring the scantily clad and shivering teenager who'd offered them a half hour, individually or together, that they weren't interested in catching what she had, before dragging the startled Jake off by the arm.

"Did you see her polo shirt?" Michael had demanded, his voice pitched low, as they'd walked away. "Sacred Heart High School," he'd grimaced. "I dated girls who went to Sacred Heart. Heather went to Sacred Heart."

"Think it was a different Sacred Heart," Jake had muttered, expelling an uncomfortable breath. "Look, uh.... Let's just find the governor," he'd suggested, motioning Michael ahead of him.

Jake and Michael had quickly ascertained that neither of the first two recommended vendors had anything worth looking at, let alone a mechanical governor for a windmill. They had just started across the fairgrounds toward the purported location of the third seller when they'd spotted the sloppily spray painted 'Women's Health Clinic' sign on the side of a former exhibition hall. While they'd walked past the building - formerly the site of the gun and doll show, or maybe a comic book convention, Jake had thought sourly - they'd seen two tight-lipped women in their early twenties being escorted into the building by three stone-faced men. Exchanging grim looks, Michael and Jake had moved on, not bothering to speak; there was simply nothing to say.

The third seller was located at one end of the arena, the sort of place that would have once been used for trick riding shows or large animal exhibitions. Surveying the loose arrangement of improvised tables, only some of which were sheltered under tarpaulins strung up between poles, Jake didn't hold out much hope for finding the governor here, either. The first two vendors had at least been housed on the midway, in permanent and semi-permanent structures. Jake had actually taken it as a good sign when he'd noticed that the first broker was in the old milk bottle pitch booth. It ended up being the last positive thought he'd have about anything to do with Black Jack fairgrounds.

"You really think we're gonna find it here?" Michael grumbled, frowning sideways at his brother-in-law.

"I think we need to find it," Jake answered quietly. "And, here's where we are." After a hurried consultation, they agreed to split up and make a quick reconnaissance of the makeshift store. Michael stayed near the front, where the nervous proprietor paced back and forth, monitoring his customers with a suspicious eye, while Jake, forcing a nonchalance he truly didn't feel, went in the opposite direction, strolling between two long rows of tables.

There were two people at the far end, a still slightly overweight middle-aged man, balding with a week's growth of beard, who faced Jake, and a younger woman whose back was to him, her dishwater blonde hair pulled into a French braid. Jake slowed his pace, trying to determine what they were shopping for, and if they were together. "How much for what?" he heard the young woman ask, her tone distracted, as she continued to look over the boxes of medical supplies set out on the table in front of her.

Stopping in his tracks, Jake frowned as he studied her from behind. That voice was completely familiar, but it was impossible that she'd be here, he told himself. Right?

"I dunno," the man shrugged, stepping closer, his hand brushing her arm. "An hour?" he suggested.

Instinctively, the girl pulled her hand back, forming it into a loose fist. She looked at her companion. "An hour of what?" she questioned, a hint of suspicion in her tone. The man leered at her and pressed himself against her, forcing her to step back into the edge of the table. "What!" she declared, squeaking indignantly. "Wait! No!"

The man, though, was undeterred by her reaction. "How 'bout a half hour?" he tried to bargain.

Jake felt his heart pounding, and he forced himself to act, forced himself forward. "Is everything all right?" he demanded, striding up behind the young woman.

She looked back at him, as startled to see Jake as he was to confirm that it really was her. Eyes wide, she turned back to face her importuner. Seeming to take courage from the hand Jake laid on her shoulder, she expelled an exasperated and offended breath. "I'm not a hooker, pal," she informed the man.

"Then what the hell are you doin' here?" he returned, more confused than anything else.

Annoyed, Jake pushed his way between the other two. "All right," he insisted, reaching behind him to lay a restraining hand on the young woman's arm. "That's enough." The man threw one last leer in her direction then and Jake's anger flared. "That's enough!" he shouted.

"Is there a problem here?" someone else growled from behind them. They looked back to see a man, dressed in stained jeans, and the navy field coat and black watch cap that signaled his position on the Black Jack Security team, striding toward them. He was following the same path Jake has just taken, between the rows of tables, a tight grip on his billy club.

"Hey, no! No!" yet another man interjected, following behind the security guard. He caught the young woman's eye, shaking his head at her. "No problem here. Everything's fine."

The guard cast a suspicious look over them group, and the first man, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, took a few steps back before turning around and scurrying away. "Keep it that way," the guard ordered with a sharp nod of his head before shoving his way past the new arrival.

"Jake!" the young woman squealed then, a bright smile breaking out on her face. "God! I can't - Jake!" she laughed, excited, launching herself into his arms.

"Mindy!" he breathed, catching her against his chest, hugging her tightly. "What - what the hell are you doing here?"

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

Thursday, December 6, five years before the bombs

"Heather, dear, have you eaten?" Gail inquired as she started to dish chili into Jake's bowl. "There's plenty here."

"I'm fine," Heather assured, offering Jake's mother a smile. "I had a bowl of cereal."

"Cookie Crisp or Cap'n Crunch?" Jake teased. Gail spooned the last of the chili out of the pan, looking down in time to see her son grab Heather's hand, trapping it against his thigh. "I know what's in your cupboard," he informed her. Catching her father-in-law's eye, Gail arched an eyebrow in silent comment, prompting his muffled snort.

"Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries," Heather laughed, shaking her head. She looked at Gail, not sure what to make of the other woman's expression. "It wasn't just cereal," she added quickly, "I had an apple, too."

Grandpa slapped his hand on the table and pushed his chair back. "Well, sweetheart," he said, addressing Heather, "I've got a hankering for ice cream. So whaddya say?"

"There's rainbow sherbet in the freezer," Gail reminded, moving across the kitchen to deposit the saucepan in the sink.

"Also got some tin roof sundae," Grandpa countered, winking at Heather as he walked toward the refrigerator. "And that'll be what I'm havin'."

Shaking her head at her father-in-law, Gail turned to get bowls out of the cupboard and spoons from the cutlery drawer. Placing these items on the end of the table, she tried to catch Heather's gaze - she and Jake seemed to only have eyes for one another - but had to resort to clearing her throat loudly. "So, Heather," she smiled once the younger woman glanced in her direction, "How are things at school? The play's coming along?"

"Busy," Heather nodded, throwing Jake a quick grin after he squeezed her hand underneath the table, a move that didn't go unnoticed by his mother. "But the play's really coming together. We've got a few oddities," she admitted with a shrug. "To get a Tiny Tim who could handle all the lines we had to go with Jason Cale. A kindergartner would have been better, size-wise, but we realized we had to go with Jason, and he's in my class -"

"You mean the kid who has a crush on you and can't spell?" Jake interrupted, teasing. "I see what kinda casting director you are," he continued, scraping the inside of his bowl. He'd obviously been hungry, having practically inhaled his dinner, and all the while using only one hand. "Apparently all it takes to get a starring role in your play is a well placed 'Miss Lisinski, I love you. You're pretty and you're fun,'" Jake claimed, grinning at Heather.

Grandpa, returning to the table with the cartons of rainbow sherbet, tin roof sundae, and good old-fashioned vanilla ice cream, took the opportunity to exchange bemused smiles with his daughter-in-law. "This is Shep Cale's boy, I take it? Givin' you a run for your money, I'd say, Jake," he snickered softly. "Smart kid."

Heather blushed at that, though somehow she managed to overcome enough of her embarrassment to continue the joke. "And, Jason's not the only one, Gramps," she reminded, scooting her chair - already next to Jake's - an inch closer so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "He gets jealous of you, too. Thinks you're trying to steal me away," she giggled.

"Well, that's because I am," Grandpa declared, grinning widely. "Hafta say, Jake's smarter than he looks."

"Gee, thanks, Gramps," Jake drawled, wrapping an arm around Heather's shoulders and then turning his head to place a peck of a kiss on her lips. "And, get your own girlfriend."

"Something tells me you can put these back," Gail informed Grandpa, handing him the sherbet and the vanilla ice cream before he could sit down. She pulled the top off the tin roof sundae and began scooping it out into bowls. "So, Jason Cale is playing Tiny Tim," she prompted Heather, smiling.

"Yes, and he's taller than half the kids playing his Cratchit siblings," Heather groaned softly. "Luckily, Lindsay Davis is the tallest girl in the third grade, or he'd be taller than Mrs. Cratchit, too. She really was the best choice we had for the part. One of the seventh grade boys - Duncan McNerny - is playing Scrooge. He's pretty good."

"Pretty good on the football field, too," Grandpa commented, re-seating himself at the table. "I'm sure with five graduating seniors, Coach Bauer's wishin' Duncan would skip the eighth grade and head on up to the high school."

"He is built like a linebacker," Heather agreed, reluctantly pulling herself out of Jake's embrace so she could accept a bowl of ice cream from Gail. "Thanks," she smiled at Jake's mother. "And, he's smart, too. I wasn't sure about the casting at first - Mr. Rennie did some of it before I got back from Buffalo - but you kinda forget after a bit that Duncan looks like he could snap Bob Cratchit in two. Plus, he memorized his lines before everyone else in the cast even though he's got the biggest part."

She took a bite of her ice cream, savoring it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jake grinning at her and she threw him a questioning look, but he just shook his head. "Anyway, Bonnie's been a great assistant, and Dale's been a little nervous, though he seems to be getting past it. He'll be fine as our Ghost of Christmas Past. But, oh," Heather remembered with a groan, "Skylar Stevens is the Ghost of Christmas Present. She's actually pretty good in the role, but -" she broke off, rolling her eyes.

"She's just a little bit of a brat?" Gail supplied, her expression sympathetic. "Or perhaps I should say overindulged," she corrected herself, handing Grandpa his ice cream. "I consider Miranda a friend of sorts - she volunteers at the food bank with me and she's helped out at Harvest Festival, plus now she's on the school board - but I don't think she or Hugh have ever said no to that child," Gail clucked.

Heather let out a sigh. "Overindulged is a very good word for it," she agreed. "And I like Mrs. Stevens - I do - but...." She stopped, frowning gently. "Well, I probably shouldn't tell you this but, all week Mrs. Stevens has been ... not exactly complaining, but I have heard her say to some of the other parents that 'it seems so ghoulish' for Skylar to be playing the Ghost of Christmas Present. And, I really don't think she gets why that's funny," Heather explained, cringing softly.

"Oh dear," Gail murmured, her expression sympathetic. "Well, I must admit that Miranda doesn't seem to have an irony bone."

"The Shermans have always had a deficit of sorts when it comes to humor," Grandpa offered, swallowing a bite of his ice cream. "I was always dealin' with Wallace Sherman - Miranda's father - for some reason or another when I was mayor, and I've always been one to try and loosen up a tense situation with a joke. Never worked even once with Wallace, he just didn't seem to get 'em."

"I just don't want to offend her," Heather yawned into her hand. "Excuse me," she requested, shaking her head. "I -"

"You've been running yourself ragged," Gail supplied, moving around the end of the table to seat herself next to her father-in-law. "Well, I'll finish this up, and then we can caravan back to town. You need to get to bed!"

"I was gonna follow her back, Mom," Jake protested, a frown marring his expression as he studied Heather's features closely. He'd just been so relieved to put their fight behind them before, and while their make-up hadn't been exactly painless, they had both wanted it badly. Their adrenaline had kicked in then; but now Heather was obviously flagging. "You wanna go now?" he asked her gently, reaching over to brush a stray piece of hair off her forehead and completely missing the indulgent look his mother and grandfather exchanged.

"Jake, honey, that's silly and unnecessary," his mother argued. "Heather only lives five blocks from us. It's on my way."

"I really should get going," Heather admitted reluctantly, catching Jake's hand as he withdrew it from her face. She laced their fingers together, offering him a wan smile. "And it is kinda silly for you to follow me back."

"Good," Gail declared, taking a spoonful of ice cream. She squinted over Jake's and Heather's heads at the clock high on the opposite wall. "Give me five minutes," she requested, "And I'll be ready to go."

Jake stood up from the table, tugging Heather along with him. "Make it ten, Ma," he countered, dragging a very willing Heather with him toward the door. They didn't wait for his mother's response.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison - and for the second time that night - as they turned to face one another, standing just inside Grandpa Green's study. Jake laughed at her quietly. "What're you sorry for?" he asked, tangling the fingers of one hand in her hair.

"That I'm leaving?" she answered, though, somehow, it came out as a question. She giggled at herself, shaking her head. "That I'm so - I'm so relieved, I guess, that I know I'll be able to sleep tonight, and I'm looking forward to it? That we just made up, and now I'm leaving," Heather decided finally, inching toward Jake. "So, why're you sorry?" she inquired.

"'Cause my mother's gonna follow you home instead of me," he answered with a groan. "I know - I know it's just a kiss goodnight on your porch," Jake told her, tracing one finger over her lower lip. "But I was still lookin' forward to it."

Heather nodded and, wrapping her arms around his neck, stood on her tiptoes to bring her mouth into contact with his. Jake immediately snaked his arms around her waist, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her flush against him. "That's a total bummer," she laughed, smiling against his lips some moments later. She dropped down to her flat feet, expelling a deep sigh that soon changed into a yawn. "I love you, Jake."

"I love you, too," he responded, reluctantly loosening his hold on her. Enfolding her hand in his, Jake started to pull Heather farther into the study, but she resisted, smiling at him and tugging in the other direction. He gave in.

"C'mon," she prompted, squeezing his hand. With her free hand, Heather picked up her purse from where she'd left it on the hall table when Grandpa Green had escorted them down from Jake's bedroom. Grinning at him over her shoulder, she led him to the closet where Grandpa had insisted on hanging her coat himself when she'd arrived earlier that evening. "It's not my front porch, but we do have a porch here," she reminded, forestalling his protest that their ten minutes were not up. "It'll do in a pinch," she joked.

"Okay," Jake nodded, shutting the closet door without bothering to retrieve his own coat. Heather set her purse on the floor by her feet and Jake moved behind her, taking her coat so he could hold it open for her. She glanced back at him, smiling, as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He moved around her so that they were facing one another and, catching her hand again, he stepped toward her, brushing his mouth over hers. "Practice," he insisted, gifting her with a lopsided grin. "For, you know...."

"Outside," Heather guessed, giggling. She picked her purse up by the strap and led him to the door. "You've quite built up my expectations for this kiss, I hope you know," she teased as they stepped out onto the porch. "Better make it a good one."

Jake laughed huskily at that, maneuvering so that they faced one another. The porch light was already on - likely from when Grandpa had met Heather upon her arrival - and it cast a warm glow over Heather, shining on her hair and illuminating the love and affection in her bright, if tired, smile. "This is not all on me," he informed her, his hand coming up to cup her neck and then the back of her head. "I expect some participation," Jake challenged.

"Absolutely," she agreed, slipping her purse off her shoulder and letting it drop heedlessly on the porch deck. "So..." she breathed, resting one hand on his arm and the other on his chest, over his heart, which seemed to beat faster under her fingers. Heather tilted her head up, grinning, her chin jutting out in challenge. "Let's go for it," she ordered, giggling softly.

He kissed her. It was a slow kiss to start, undemanding, and their lips even separated a few times, but never for long as they immediately came together again, nipping and sucking at each other's mouths, breathing one another's breath. Jake pulled her in, snaking one arm around her waist, his other hand dropping to her shoulder, and all the while he teased her with kisses. For Heather, it was soon not enough but also too much, all at once. Making a frustrated noise, she pressed herself into the shelter of Jake's body, winding her arms around him. Her fingers skimmed the waistband of his jeans, dipping quickly under the fabric before finally burrowing beneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt. The cool skin of her hand was somehow searing against the heated flesh of his back, and Jake moaned into her mouth, exhaling, "Babe."

She tightened her hold on him, her fingernails lightly scraping the small of his back. Jake, meanwhile, slipped his arms through the open front of her raincoat, shoving his hands into the back pockets of her jeans, squeezing her through the denim. Heather groaned, again opening her mouth beneath Jake's, her tongue meeting and tangling with his. She pressed closer, shifting on her feet and accidentally treading on Jake's sock-clad foot. "Ouch," he complained, chuckling, as he broke off their kiss.

"Sorry," Heather apologized, taking a half-step back, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. She looked down and frowned. "Where are your shoes?" she demanded. "It's cold out here."

"Upstairs," Jake laughed softly. "But, uh," he continued, clearing his throat, "My boots are right over there." He pointed across the porch at his work boots which were still next to the steps where he'd abandoned them a few hours earlier. Finding her hand, Jake lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "So, how'd we do?" he teased, tugging her along with him as he moved to retrieve his boots.

"How'd we do?" she returned, not understanding for a moment. Heather stepped over her abandoned purse, following Jake to the steps. "Oh. Oh!" she giggled, a grin blooming on her face as he collected his boots and then led her back across the porch to the swing at the far end. "Well it was a pretty darn good kiss," Heather decided, settling next to Jake, the seat swaying gently beneath them. "A nine. A definite nine."

"A nine, huh," Jake murmured, their eyes locking for a long moment before he leaned forward to pull his still damp baseball cap out of his boot. "Here," he murmured, handing it to her.

"Well, there's always room for improvement, right?" Heather shrugged, the intensity of Jake's gaze sending a delicious shiver up her spine. He nodded, but otherwise didn't respond. Unfolding the hat, she examined the front and then, gathering her hair into a ponytail, she put the cap on, pulling her hair through the back.

"So you're DEA now, huh?" Jake teased gently, tying his left boot.

"Nah, just very closely associated with my local DEA agent," she told him, leaning against his arm. Heather watched as he pulled on his other boot, re-laced it, and then tied it. Feeling suddenly rather bold, she stood up and moved in front of Jake, bracing her hands on his shoulders. Catching on immediately, he stilled the swing with his feet and clasped her waist with both hands, helping Heather climb into his lap. She straddled him, twining her hands around his neck. "Hey," Heather murmured, brushing her mouth over his.

"Hey," Jake grinned against her lips.

The front door opened then, light from the house bleeding out onto the porch, tripling the illumination provided by the porch light. "Here they are!" Grandpa Green boomed out before lowering his volume by half, adding, "Canoodling."

Groaning, Heather buried her head against Jake's shoulder, knocking the cap she was wearing sideways. Rubbing her back, Jake glared at his grandfather and kissed her ear, whispering, "It's okay."

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

Wednesday, December 6, two and a half months after the bombs

"Mindy!" the new arrival growled, grabbing her by the arm. "What the hell do you think you're doin'?" he demanded, trying to pull her away from Jake, who instinctively clamped his hand down on her other shoulder. "I told you, you're with me or you're with Ted. That's it," he barked, glaring at Jake over the top of her head. "No kidding. Otherwise, things like that happen. Worse things happen," he enunciated, practically spitting out each word. "I knew - I knew it was a bad idea to have you come along." Scowling, he shook his head, complaining, "God, my kid listens better'n you."

"I'm sorry, okay, Russell," she replied begrudgingly, tugging her arm out of his grasp. "The broker said they had medical supplies back here, but it's all stuff we already have," Mindy grumbled. "Half of it's from Costco somewhere, anyway. Got the item numbers and everything.

"Yeah, well, you know what? For some reason they don't put the really good stuff out at the swap meet," he snapped in return, letting out a frustrated breath.

"Right," Mindy acknowledged, pressing he lips into a tight line. "Good point." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and offered him a tentative smile. "And I really am sorry, okay?"

"Sure," he nodded, throwing her one last exasperated look before turning his attention to Jake. "Thanks for the help," he muttered, holding out his hand. "You don't want to mess with the guards here. It gets ugly fast."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, accepting and shaking Russell's hand. "Got that." He studied the other man for a moment, sizing him up. Russell was a few years older - his hair was starting to thin - and almost the same height as Jake, though he was probably a few pounds heavier. More importantly, he was obviously on alert, looking out for signs of danger and - mostly - looking after Mindy.

"C'mon," Russell suggested through gritted teeth. He laid both hands on Mindy's shoulders, steering her in front of him. "Let's get outta here," he mumbled looking sideways at Jake.

Unwilling to let Mindy out of his sight, but also not wanting to get farther away from his brother-in-law, Jake glanced back toward the front of the 'store', and was relieved to see Michael threading his way through the crowd toward them. "Hold up a sec," he demanded quietly, hitting Russell on the arm. Mindy and Russell both looked back at him, and Jake jerked his head in Michael's direction.

"That - that's Heather's brother, right?" Mindy asked, stopping in her tracks despite the pressure of Russell's hand on her shoulder as he tried to propel her forward. "He was at your wedding, right? I'm - I'm pretty sure we did the Macarena together," she admitted, glancing over her shoulder.

"Missed that," Jake snorted. "But that's Mike, yeah," he confirmed, trying to stall them for another few seconds so his brother-in-law could catch up. "Dad's here, too. And Dale Turner."

"Little Dale Turner?" Mindy squeaked out, starting to turn around. "Really?"

"Seriously, the reunion can wait," Russell growled, glaring at Mindy. "Move."

Two seconds later, Michael fell in line next to his brother-in-law. "Jake -"

"C'mon," he said, his voice pitched low, "We need to get outta here." Jake grabbed the sleeve of Michael's parka, pulling him along behind Mindy and Russell. They moved out of the 'store', wending their way through a maze of PVC pipe barriers that looked like over-sized sawhorses constructed out of white twigs. Once they were clear of that obstacle course, Russell led them around the corner of a large blue tent that looked like it was on the verge of collapse.

"Mindy!" A brown-haired man, dressed in an olive green field coat, jogged toward them, frowning in concern. He pulled Mindy into his arms, cupping her face and head with both hands. "Baby! I turned around for two seconds, and you disappeared. Don't scare me like that," he ordered, kissing her quickly before hugging her close, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"Hey, lover boy, keep moving," Russell muttered, pointing them all toward the arena's exit.

"Goin', we're goin," the younger man - Jake guessed he was twenty five or twenty six - grumbled. He kissed Mindy again and then, folding her hand in his, began to lead them toward the gate.

"Jake," Mindy called softly, smiling at him over her shoulder. "I still can't believe you're here. I thought you were supposed to be in the Middle East or somethin'. Jake, this is Ted Lewis," she introduced, glancing up at the man beside her as he hurried them through the crowd. "My boyfriend," she added, flashing a shy smile.

Ted looked back at the three men walking behind them. "Hey," he greeted, "How ya doin'?"

"And Ted, Russell, this is Jake Green and Mike, right?" Mindy asked. Michael nodded, and she continued the introductions. "Mike Lisinski. Jake's married to Mike's sister, and I've known Jake since I was a little kid. I used to torture him," she chuckled, rolling her eyes for effect. "He washed dishes at Mags' - my grandmother's - restaurant in Jericho, The Pizza Garden. I'd sit on this really high stool and watch him and chatter at him for his whole shift if I could get away with it. I was such a pest," Mindy sighed. "But he loves me anyway, doncha, Jakey?"

"Yeah, 'cept when you call me 'Jakey'," he returned with a snort. "So, Russell," he said, glancing at the man on his left. "You're all from New Bern?"

Mindy had moved to New Bern two years before, straight out of Kansas State with a degree in Management from the School of Business Administration. She had accepted an entry level position in Costco's corporate management program, specializing in logistics and inventory control, and had been assigned to the New Bern warehouse store. With Mindy started in her career and Colleen - Mindy's younger sister - in college, Mags Henry had considered her granddaughters settled and her job finished. She'd sold The Pizza Garden and moved to Florida, further weakening Mindy's ties to Jericho. In turn, Mindy had thrown herself into her job and life in New Bern, and the Greens had only seen her a few times a year since then.

She looked back over her shoulder at Jake, grinning. "Whatever you say, Jakey. I just can't believe you're here," Mindy continued, making a happy noise.

Jake cringed at the sound. He and Mindy had always had an unusual relationship - part brother-sister, part babysitter and charge, part friends - and this wasn't the first time they'd gone months without contact. But Jake was embarrassed to admit, even just to himself, that with everything else that had happened since the bombs, Mindy had barely crossed his mind, and he certainly hadn't considered going to New Bern to check up on her.

"We're looking for parts for a windmill generator," Michael explained as they exited the arena. There were fewer people around and they all breathed sighs of relief as they slowed their pace.

"Unsuccessfully," Jake added, shaking his head. "What're you doin' here?" he questioned. "You said something about medical supplies?"

"We all work for the New Bern city manager," Mindy said, pulling loose of Ted's embrace and turning around to face Jake. "After everything happened, he appointed me his chief of logistics. We're authorized to trade on behalf of the town, and right now we need medical supplies."

"And food," Ted offered, "Same as everybody else in the world."

Russell frowned at his two companions and then, clearing his throat, glanced at Jake. "So, hey, there's a guy here who doesn't always report into the main tent, but sometimes has the specialty items nobody else has," he explained. "You wanna see 'im?"

Jake looked at Michael and then back at Russell. They both nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, "Let's check it out."

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



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