Different Circumstances: Part 12F by Marzee Doats
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Wednesday, December 6, two and a half months after the bombs
"Come in," Heather called out, acknowledging the knock at the bedroom door without glancing up from her book. She was relying on the soft light thrown off by a small candle lantern and had to squint to read.
Its hinges creaking softly, the door opened a few inches and Jake stuck his head in, inquiring teasingly, "Are you decent?"
Grinning, she looked up, all thoughts of reading - and of not losing her place - forgotten. "And then some," Heather returned, chuckling. She was, in fact, dressed for bed in flannel pajamas - the normally oversized top was starting to stretch across the mound of her pregnancy - layered over long underwear, not to mention already under the covers. "Besides, when I'm indecent, I lock the door."
"Okay, that goes on the list of things I don't need to be hearing about," Michael grumbled as Jake pushed him into the bedroom ahead of himself. "Hey, sis."
"Hey! You guys are back," Heather sighed, obviously relieved. Marking her spot in her book - she was still reading What to Expect When You're Expecting - she placed it on the nightstand. "How'd it go?"
"Well, we saw a governor," Jake replied, deciding to go with the bad news first. "And it was pretty much everything you wanted, only it didn't work out. Had a disagreement with the seller. But," he continued, stepping around Michael and moving toward the bed, "The good news is that - hopefully - The New Bern Brake Works are about to become The New Bern Brake and Windmill Works."
Heather smiled at Jake, leaning forward to kiss him 'hello' when he seated himself on the edge of the bed next to her, lowering his backpack to the floor near his feet. "New Bern, like down the road New Bern?" she inquired. "New Bern, Kansas?"
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, finding her hand and lacing their fingers together. "We ran into Mindy of all people at Black Jack, and she's pretty high up in the New Bern power structure, apparently," he explained, lifting her hand to press an absent kiss to the inside of her wrist. "She's in big with Phil Constantino, who's the new city manager."
"Our Mindy? Mindy Henry?" Heather asked, letting out a soft breath. "Wow. How is she? She's okay, right?"
"She's good," Michael interjected, drawing his sister's gaze away from her husband's face. "Yeah, I'm still here," he grumbled rolling his eyes. Heather allowed a self-conscious giggle but didn't apologize. "Mindy's good, Jake's good, I'm good. Home with not a scratch on me," Michael claimed. He held his arms open, rotating in a circle so Heather could see for herself, although given his dark clothing and the dim light, it was difficult for her to make much out.
"He's in one piece," Jake added, pressing a kiss to Heather's forehead. "And so'm I," he said, kissing the bridge of her nose. "And Dad and Dale. We're all back in one piece," he assured her, his mouth meeting hers.
Heather pulled back from their kiss, her lips twitching into a grin. "Well, four individual pieces - unmerged - the same as when you left, I hope," she teased. "I mean, I'm just sayin', you're not all one piece."
This earned her groans from both the men, and Jake threw his brother-in-law a look, hoping to telegraph that he'd rather not tell Heather all the details of their altercation at the fairgrounds. His shoulder ached where one of the guards had hit him with his billy club, and Jake didn't doubt he had a bruise to explain away, but she didn't need to know about the rest. His head hurt too, where the guard has struck a glancing blow across the back of his skull, but Michael had examined him later and found that he didn't even have a cut, just a little tenderness. "Four people, each in one piece," Jake snorted in agreement.
Michael cleared his throat. "Well, I'm goin' to bed. I'm workin' in the morning and I'm tired," he yawned. "Jake just said he had to prove to you that I'm all right, and I am, okay?"
"C'm'ere," Heather ordered, waving her brother over. They exchanged a hug and then she kissed him on the cheek before finally letting him go. "I'm glad you're home safe," she murmured.
"Yeah, me too," Michael agreed, forcing a tired smile as he straightened to his full height.
"You've got clean sheets," she informed him then, smiling. "We all do. And, I'm such a nice sister I even made your bed."
"That is nice," he chuckled quietly. "Thanks, Heth."
"Thanks, Mike," Jake said next, standing to offer his brother-in-law his hand. They shook, grasping each other's hands tightly, their suddenly serious tones confusing Heather for a moment. "Thanks," he repeated.
"No problem, man," Michael shrugged, clapping Jake's upper arm. "Night," he added before glancing at Heather. "Night, sis."
"What was that about?" Heather asked, frowning at Jake as the bedroom door closed behind her brother.
"Not important. Black Jack's just not a nice place so you gotta look out for each other, that's all," he answered, reseating himself next to her. "Don't worry about it," he instructed, smiling at her gently. Letting out a long sigh, Jake tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear. "You know, I was glad to see Mindy - to see that she was safe - but I hate her boyfriend."
"So you met Ted, huh?" she chuckled sympathetically. "He's ... interesting," she decided with a slight shake of the head. "Apparently he's really into cars except he was having a problem with his truck's engine, and everything he said he was doin' is exactly what I wouldn't have done." Heather rolled her eyes. "I made a suggestion - maybe two - and then realized he wasn't interested in what I had to say."
"He's an idiot, obviously," Jake muttered, snorting softly.
Heather frowned then. "Didn't I tell you about Ted?" she asked her forehead creasing even as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her pajama top, resting both hands over their baby. "I didn't, did I?" she realized.
Jake gave her a lopsided smile. "Nah. Some warning would've been nice, but that's okay," he shrugged, laying his hands over hers. "Least now I can claim to have met him unprejudiced."
"I'm sorry, hon," Heather apologized with a sigh. "I remember now. I was gonna email you about it, but not just email it, you know?" Jake nodded, and she continued. "I kept thinkin' I had to sit down and compose something, break it to you gently," she chuckled, her sympathetic smile returning.
"'Cause I'm such a sensitive guy, huh?" he joked.
"When it comes to Mindy, sometimes you are," she countered, "Not that that's a bad thing. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Heather repeated, "But I was so tired that night. I met them for coffee at like two, and then I went to Sunday dinner at your parents, and that was the night, actually, that I got sick just from the smell of your Mom's pork chops," she remembered, chewing her lip absently. "And there was a staff meeting on Monday morning that I barely made, plus then I had my blood test after school. April - April took me out to dinner to celebrate the results," she admitted then, and it was the first time Jake had heard that particular detail. "Then on -"
"Babe, it's okay," Jake interrupted, squeezing her hand. "I think that blood test was just a little more important," he assured her, adding, "I'm just sorry I wasn't here to take you to celebrate."
Shaking her head, Heather shifted her position against the pillows she'd propped herself up with before leaning forward to give him a peck of a kiss. "You're here now," she reminded, "That's all that matters to me. So," she continued a beat later, playing with Jake's hand, easily twisting his now loose wedding ring on his finger. "Did you get something to eat? Enough?" Heather asked, although it was a ridiculous question; none of them really got enough to eat these days.
"Funnel cake and corn dogs, of course," Jake claimed, rolling his eyes. "Went to the fair after all."
"Don't tease," Heather complained, whimpering softly, though it was mostly for affect. "I can't tell you how long I've been craving a corn dog. For weeks. I blame B.G.," she pouted, fighting a snicker.
"Hey! You!" Jake said, starting to laugh as he skimmed his fingers over her belly not quite poking her, but still, Heather assumed, trying to get their baby's attention. "Take it easy on your Mom," he ordered. Leaning closer, Jake continued to speak to the swell of their child, though he watched Heather, their gazes locked, looking for her amused reaction. "I mean, c'mon," he whispered, chuckling, "How do you even know what a corn dog tastes like?"
"Oh, he knows, trust me," she giggled, her expression turning sheepish. "All of August and September, if I had any reason to be in Fielding, I was grabbin' a snack at Sonic. Corn dog and tater tots."
They'd passed a Sonic - abandoned and vandalized almost beyond recognition - during the tense twenty minutes they'd been on I-80. Roger had warned about raiding parties, as had the news kiosk at the fairgrounds, but there just wasn't a route to Black Jack that didn't involve the interstate to some degree, and they'd had no choice but to take it. The drive-in hadn't been the only casualty along the highway; they'd seen burned out and looted gas stations, motels and fast food joints all along the road, a sight that Michael had deemed typical when Johnston had made a comment. After that, they hadn't talked, instead concentrating all of their attention on scanning the highway - ahead and behind - for signs of danger.
Aware of Heather's eyes upon him, Jake forced a smile. "So that's how it is," he joked, pressing a kiss to her flannel-covered belly, just above her belly button. "You're both just a coupl'a corn dog addicts, huh?"
"Our deep, dark secret, yes," Heather nodded, cupping the back of Jake's head with her hand. "Do you want some soup?" she asked as he lifted himself up and her hand dropped away. "We had soup for dinner, but we didn't eat it all. I could heat it up for you, easy."
"Nah, that's okay," he replied, catching her hand and tangling their fingers together. "We ate. The peanut butter granola bars were good, and - even better - I've still got one left. And, speaking of Christmas presents," Jake grinned, reaching for his backpack. "I'm sorry it's not a governor, though at least if they can get the factory going in New Bern, maybe we can have more than one without risking the only one we have, taking it apart," he reasoned, unzipping the bag. "But, I do have this," he declared, pulling something loose from inside the backpack and presenting it to her with a flourish.
"You got ChapStick!" Heather practically squealed, snatching the multi-pack from Jake's hand. "Oh, I love you!" she declared emphatically, already working to open the package.
"Well, ChapStick better not be the only reason you love me," Jake grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched her struggle with the plastic packaging for a few seconds and then reached for it. "Let me see that," Jake requested, pulling the backpack up into his lap with his other hand. She handed the package over after a moment's hesitation, as aware as Jake was of the now constant chill in the house and how it sapped one's strength and stole from them all the ability to do fine, close work, even if it was just tearing something open.
"The real thanks goes to Dale," Jake continued. He pulled a small pocket knife out of the backpack's front pocket. It was one that Heather had carried for years on her keychain, and which she'd packed as an afterthought the night before. It was also the one weapon that had gone unnoticed when they'd been searched entering Black Jack, and was the one weapon - besides Russell's gun - that they'd left Black Jack with. "I told Dad and Dale - Mike, too - to be on the look out for lip balm. I didn't even know that Dale had some until we were on our way home," Jake admitted, slashing the back of the package open with the knife's short blade. "Here you go," he said, handing her the ChapStick and then, after folding the knife closed, setting it on the nightstand next to the lantern. "I see you found my note," he grinned, catching his wife's eye and pointing at the drawing she'd propped against the lamp which, without electricity, no longer worked but still stood on the bedside table.
"Our first family portrait, that's what your Mom said," Heather smiled in return. "Our little, nuclear family, I mean," she clarified, "You, me and B.G. I like it."
Jake nodded. "You, me and B.G."
"I liked the Cessna, too," she murmured, dumping the eight smaller, single packages of Chapstick on her lap. "This is ridiculous," she complained, reaching for the pocket knife.
"I've taught you well," he teased, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed the picture off the nightstand and flipped it over to look at his airplane drawing. "This took me a half hour at least."
"Ah, success!" Heather declared as she managed to extract a tube of original-flavored ChapStick from its individual package. She glanced at him, shrugging. "And I only know the Cessna, can't do the military aircraft. Okay," she sighed, twisting the lip balm's cap loose, "There's two medicated and two moisturizer to save for later, plus two regular and two cherry. I'm savin' those for special occasions," Heather decided. "You want one of the regulars?" she asked, closing her eyes as she started to apply the balm to her chapped lips. "Ahhhh," she breathed before rubbing her lips together. "Though I really should give some to your Mom and April," she realized, her nose wrinkling, as she put on another coat of ChapStick.
"Completely up to you," Jake replied, drawling, "I'm not gonna make you share."
"Thanks," she giggled. "And, thank you. I'll thank Dale, too - later - but thank you, Jake," Heather said softly, leaning over to kiss him. "This makes my day - my week!" she declared, grinning at him. "Sure you don't want some?" she inquired, holding the tube out to Jake.
"No thanks. Regular ChapStick tastes like Noxema smells," he complained, making a face. "Always reminds me of a sunburn."
"When have you ever had a sunburn?" she laughed, eyebrows raised in question. Thanks to his complexion - a genetic gift from his Pawnee thrice great grandmother - Jake never burned, just tanned, a fact that Heather had declared to be patently unfair more than once. Whereas she had to slather on the sunscreen every hour on the hour - and still sometimes got a little pink - Jake never even bothered with it. The only equalizer as far as Heather was concerned - and it was a partial one at best - was that it took just a solid week of working around the ranch for Jake to end up with the world's worst farmer's tan, one that often took months to fade.
"Trust me, I've had 'em," Jake insisted.
"Sure," Heather answered, clearly unconvinced. She leaned close, her mouth mere inches from his. "Sooo.... If I've got Noxema lips are you not gonna kiss me anymore?" she whispered.
He grinned, pretending to consider his options for a few seconds. "Nah, I'll still kiss you," Jake decided, brushing his mouth over hers. "Even if you do have Noxema lips." He scooted toward Heather and they continued to exchange soft, sweet, simple kisses, while she tangled her fingers in his hair and his hands drifted from her waist up her back. Finally, Jake pulled her into a hug, tucking her head against his shoulder. They sat silently, arms wrapped around one another for a long moment. "I've got somethin' else you'll be interested in," he told Heather, loosening his hold on her. Twisting around, he dug into his backpack producing the notebook she'd included. "The news."
"So, did you find my note?" Heather inquired as she accepted the notebook. She opened it and pulled the photo from the inside pocket, holding it up for Jake to see.
"I did," Jake answered, "But Mike found it first." Heather's eyes widened at that and he chuckled softly. He reached for the photograph, gently tugging it from her fingers. "Now I believe this note contains a certain promise...."
"Oh, so you're callin' our deal, huh?" she chuckled. "Hold on," she instructed, balancing the notebook on her belly and picking up the open tube of ChapStick. "Never let it be said that Heather Green does not keep her part of a bargain," she proclaimed, quickly reapplying lip balm. She leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and emitting a relieved sigh as their lips came together. Jake moved toward her, trying to get closer, and Heather shifted under the covers which were drawn up to her waist, knocking the ChapStick packages to the floor. "I'm glad you're back in one piece," she told him when they finally separated a long moment later.
"Me too," Jake murmured, his voice rumbling warmly.
Heather reached for the notebook - luckily it had fallen into the middle of the bed - and opened it to the front page. "So, the news?" she asked, watching as Jake bent over to pick up the dropped ChapStick.
"They've got a real production goin' at Black Jack," he shrugged, pulling open the bedside table's drawer and dropping the loose packages of ChapStick inside. "They collect the news as people pass through and then post it on this big news board. Mike copied it all down."
"Northwest power grid beyond repair and the worst winter in decades?" Heather questioned, her tone incredulous. "What - how are we gonna handle that?" she demanded, her eyes widening
"We'll just have to figure it out," Jake muttered, resting his hand on her knee.
"Camp violence?" she questioned, looking up, their gazes locking. "In Chicago? But Chicago was on the bomb list."
"FEMA camp, I think. Like the one Mike and Jeff told us about," he reminded, hoping that his tone didn't betray his own overwhelmed sense of apprehension. "Somewhere safe outside the city for the survivors to go."
"God," Heather swore, shaking her head. She took a deep breath and forced herself to finish reading. "This is almost worse than not knowing. And who are all these people? Senator Snowden? Senator Toma - Tomarchio?" She plowed ahead, not waiting for his answer, not that Jake had one for her. "And, what about this? 'Beijing vows to continue aid'," Heather read, "'Third round of shipments expected to arrive for distribution at year's end.' That doesn't make any sense," she argued, "We only ever got the one airdrop."
"Maybe they didn't know we were here for round one," Jake suggested, stroking her leg through the thick pile of bedding. "Maybe Jericho wasn't on the map, or they assumed the town was evacuated, so we weren't included until round two."
Biting her lip, Heather studied her husband's face in the soft glow thrown off by the candle lantern, trying to decide whether to trust his explanation. Jake looked tired, she realized, but also resolute. "You really believe that?" Heather asked, letting out a long breath.
"I do. I have to believe it," he told her. "We have to believe it," Jake insisted. "We need the food, the supplies. They found us once before, so they'll find us again."
Two weeks earlier he'd been suspicious of the airdrop, even suggesting that the food could have been poisoned in order to sicken the town, leaving them that much more vulnerable to an outside attack. But the supplies had been distributed, they had all eaten their share, and no one was ill with anything besides the colds that had already been circulating and a few cases of pneumonia and bronchitis that April was having a dickens of a time treating. No, the food had been consumed and everyone was fine except that they were already almost out of food again and year's end was still more than three weeks away.
Forcing the slightest of smiles, Jake placed his hand over his wife's pregnant belly, over their child. He had to believe that help was coming because the alternative was unthinkable. "New Bern got an airdrop, too," he told her clearing his throat. "From Germany. Mindy said there was even Nutella."
"That's just not fair," Heather groaned, her eyes falling closed for a second. "I've got some instant wonton soup to trade with 'em."
"I was thinkin' maybe the Germans sent some corn dogs," Jake joked.
Heather giggled quietly. "Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure the corn dog was invented in the US," she murmured, "Probably at a state fair like all really good junk food."
"Well, they've gotta be good for bratwurst at least," he countered, stroking his thumb over the swell of her pregnancy. "'Cause I could really go for some bratwurst," he said, making a frustrated noise.
"And, B.G. and I would both gladly take bratwurst," she agreed with a chuckle.
"Aid's comin' in from all over the world, babe," Jake told her, the almost anxious note in his voice belying the insistence in his words. "And more's coming. It has to," he sighed, lifting his hand from her belly and clenching it into a fist which he ground against his leg. "We just hafta hold onto that, okay?"
"Yeah," Heather nodded, pressing her lips together. Almost without thinking, she picked up her tube of ChapStick and uncapped it, applying it again to her lips. "So, if Germany's sending aid, and Prime Minister Clements is bringing things to a vote, that's gotta mean that Europe's okay, right? The bombs just happened to us. I mean as bad as that is, it's not the whole world, right?"
"Think so," he replied.
"Good," she sighed, "That means the Pope is okay." Surprised by that particular statement of all things - and yet really not - Jake stared at her, smiling and fighting a snicker. Instead it was Heather who laughed self-consciously. "I know it's weird, but I was worried about him," she admitted. "He's God's representative on earth, and I know it doesn't make a lot of sense to even believe in God after everything that's happened, but...." She trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath and seeming to gather her courage. "I hafta still believe in God," Heather shrugged, "And I'm glad the Pope's probably still okay."
Jake closed his eyes for a moment, all thoughts of being amused by her admission gone. There weren't many things he counted on in the world - especially not now - but in addition to and as equally important as their love for and trust in one another, Jake relied on Heather's steadfast faith. She, more than anyone he knew, believed that in the end things would be okay and he depended on that - on her - to keep going himself. "Don't you dare stop believing in God," he told her, his brow furrowing. Fighting a frown, he cupped her chin with one hand adding gently, "Please. I don't think I could handle that," he admitted, brushing her lips with his own.
They stared at one another for a long moment, their doubts unwittingly revealed in both their expressions. Pulling herself together, Heather took a deep breath and attempted a smile. "Okay," she agreed, catching Jake's hand in her own as he withdrew it. "I won't. I promise."
"Good," he nodded, exhaling a relieved breath. "So, clean sheets, huh?" Jake said, a few seconds later, chuckling softly.
"Yep," Heather confirmed as she smoothed the covers over her lap. "It's pretty nice."
"Well then," he began, standing up slowly, "I better go take a shower."
"You're gonna freeze your butt off," she predicted, offering him a sheepish smile. "But thank you!"
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Monday, December 24, five years before the bombs
Jake had just swallowed his last bite of pumpkin pie when he felt his cell phone vibrate against his hip. Unclipping it as he stood up, he checked the number out of habit, grinning when his suspicions were confirmed.
"Who in the world would be calling at this time?" Gail demanded, her forehead wrinkling in consternation. "It's Christmas Eve."
"Heather," Eric answered for his brother, chuckling.
"Yesiree," Grandpa Green agreed with a nod, "Must be Heather."
"Hey, babe," Jake greeted, speaking softly into the phone, his back turned toward the table.
At the other end of the line, Heather giggled and let out a breathy, "Hey, you. Merry Christmas, Jake."
"Merry Christmas," Jake echoed, glancing back over his shoulder at his family. April was at work, but the rest of the Greens stared back at him, all wearing identical knowing smiles. "It's Heather," he told them, rolling his eyes. He held the phone out toward the dining room table, instructing, "Say 'hi'."
Dutifully, the Greens called out, "Merry Christmas, Heather," and Grandpa tacked on a booming, "Wish you were here, sweetheart!"
"Tell them hello and Merry Christmas from me, please," she requested as soon as Jake was back on the phone.
"Heather says 'Merry Christmas'," Jake repeated. "Now if you'll excuse me," he added, not bothering to wait for their consent before he moved into the living room, calling Baron, his new puppy from the old blanket Gail had laid out in front of the fireplace. Baron had come amazingly well-trained but he was still a puppy, and he bounded toward Jake, yipping excitedly, his hind legs almost overtaking the front. Squatting to pat the dog on the head, Jake commanded gently but firmly, "Quiet. C'mon, boy," he added, standing and leading the animal through the entry, headed for the den.
"So, how's The Red Baron," Heather asked, hearing the puppy through the phone. "Has he slept yet?" she joked, "Are you ready to kill me yet?"
The Red Baron, as Heather had named the dog, had been her Christmas present to Jake. They had exchanged gifts on Thursday evening, a day and a half before she'd flown home to Buffalo. Originally, Heather had invited him to her house for their 'own private Christmas', intending to cook a special dinner for him and spend the evening most decidedly in. But Jake's flu had required them to alter those plans, and prime rib roast had given way to homemade chicken pot pies, which Heather had assured would be better for his recovering stomach and appetite. "Plus, I can bake," she'd said, consoling herself as much as Jake, "So at least I don't think I can ruin pie, and I probably would've destroyed the roast." And, rather than an evening curled up on Heather's couch, fire roaring in the fireplace, while they admired the little tree they'd decorated together the previous Saturday, they had ended up spending yet another evening in the family room at the ranch. Grandpa, thankfully, had at least relaxed some in his self-appointed chaperone duties, perhaps bought off by the third pot pie Heather had made just for him, or perhaps just figuring that Jake was too done in to be much of a threat to her virtue.
There had been no concealing a dog of course, especially one as energetic as The Red Baron, and Jake, who'd finally gotten up the energy to take a shower that afternoon only to promptly fall back into bed for a three hour nap, had awoken to the unexpected, though not unfamiliar, sound of a puppy barking. Blinking away exhaustion and confusion, he'd staggered from his bed and down the staircase in time to meet Heather coming into the house with a six month old black lab puppy, which had a red bandanna and a sprig of mistletoe - Jake had been almost certain - tied around its neck. Grandpa Green had been standing behind her, grinning, a grocery bag in each hand. "What's - what's going on?" Jake had questioned with a yawn.
"Uh, well, uh - well, Merry Christmas?" Heather had managed to stammer out finally, the puppy's leash clutched tight in her hand. He, however, hadn't cared for this treatment, whining as he'd strained against the lead, trying to get to Jake, excited for the opportunity for a new person to sniff. "Easy," Heather had commanded the animal, repeating, "Easy," and he had desisted, impressing the hell out of Jake. Taking a deep breath, Heather had met Jake's gaze with a relieved smile. "You said once that you'd wanted a dog for a long time, but with your job, and always moving around you hadn't gotten one because it wasn't fair, but since you're in Jericho now, and - and you're staying, right? Well, I thought...." She'd trailed off, biting her lip nervously before forcing a smile. She'd started to hold the leash out to Jake but had changed her mind a second later and had pulled her hand back. "This is The Red Baron, and this was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
Frowning at Jake, Grandpa had cleared his throat, distracting Heather momentarily. "I'll just put this all in the fridge, okay, darlin'?" he'd asked. She'd nodded. "Then I'll get the rest of everything from your car," Grandpa had promised, turning and heading for the kitchen.
"No, babe, this was a great idea," Jake had contradicted as his grandfather had disappeared from sight. He'd grinned at her tiredly. "I just can't believe that you remembered that I said that." They'd had a conversation about dogs only the one time, taking a break alongside Johnston Creek - so named, he'd explained, because it was the natural border between the Green Ranch and the smaller, neighboring property on which his Grandma Betsy had grown up - during the tour by horseback he'd taken her on one glorious autumn Sunday afternoon two months before. The Greens had always had a dog while Jake was growing up, and he had admitted that he'd missed having one now that he was an adult. "I love - I love that you remembered. Thank you."
Though his aching joints had protested the move, Jake had squatted down in front of the dog then, offering the back of his hand for the animal to smell. "So, you're The Red Baron, huh?" he'd chuckled, exhaling a wheezing breath. The puppy had sniffed Jake's fingers and then had started to lick them, eliciting another laugh from Jake. "Good boy, good dog," he'd praised, stroking the animal's head as he'd looked up at Heather, asking, "He is a boy, right? I mean, a girl would be fine, but I wanna make sure I'm callin' him the right thing," Jake had explained.
"Well, he's The Red Baron, not The Red Baroness," Heather had chuckled, her relief apparent. Crouching down next to them, she had scratched The Red Baron's head, which had prompted him to yawn, sit, and thump his tail enthusiastically on the hardwood floor. "You don't have to keep my name, of course -"
"Nah, I like it," Jake had interrupted, reaching for her hand. "You can have full naming rights, how's that?" He'd had to pause to cough, but then he'd pressed a kiss to her knuckles before leaning toward her to press a kiss to her forehead. "Avoiding mucus membranes," he'd rasped out.
"Thank you and thank you," she'd giggled.
"All right if we call him 'Baron' for short?" he'd asked.
Heather had nodded her agreement. "'Baron' is acceptable," she'd agreed. "He's housebroken, really well trained, socialized to horses, personality plus," she'd continued, cataloguing the dog's good qualities as she'd reached out to scratch the top of Baron's head. "I was sold thirty seconds after I'd met him. I just couldn't resist," Heather had sighed, smiling at Jake. "Gramps was my co-conspirator," she'd admitted. "He took me to Frank Johnston."
"Dad's cousin," Jake had nodded, adding, "This is great," as he'd fought a yawn. Baron had flopped onto his back, looking up at the two of them, his expression curious. Jake had stroked the dog's flank and grinned at Heather. "Thanks, babe."
"You're welcome," she'd replied softly, finally handing the leash's end over to Jake. "Merry Christmas."
"He's good," Jake answered, chuckling into the phone as he flipped on the light switch just inside the door of the den. "And stop tryin' to talk me outta my dog just because you want him for yourself," he teased, flopping down onto the couch and then patting the spot beside him, inviting Baron to hop up. The puppy did as he was bid, lying down beside his master, his head resting on Jake's leg.
"He's so cute," Heather returned, giggling. "Of course I want him. But he's yours and I know that. No take backs."
"Well, we can share," Jake offered. "How's that?"
"Deal," she answered. "So, how are you feelin'?" Heather asked a second later, her voice dripping with sympathy. Despite Jake's claims to recovery on Friday evening, when he'd arrived at her house on Saturday, he'd had to admit to still being sick, and had even had her drive - her first time operating a vehicle as big as Grandpa Green's truck - to Wichita. Heather had been on pins and needles for both her flights, worrying about Jake driving back to Jericho by himself, and she had breathed a deep sigh of relief when she'd checked her voicemail on the runway after landing in Buffalo to find that he had indeed made it home, and had gone back to bed. "You're still up, right? So, better?"
"Yeah, I finally feel halfway human today," he admitted, clearing his throat.
After Heather had handed over Baron's leash, officially gifting him with the puppy, she had shooed Jake into the family room, settling him onto the couch where he'd spent each evening since coming down with the flu. She'd tucked a quilt around him, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and given Baron - who'd happily joined Jake on the sofa - a squeaky steak toy and a rubber bone to keep him occupied. Then, Heather had disappeared into the kitchen to put their dinner together. Jake had been asleep when she'd returned some forty five minutes later, though he'd awoken while she was setting the coffee table, complete with a tablecloth, his grandmother's good china and candlelight.
Despite his complete lack of appetite, Jake had forced himself to eat all of his pot pie, and to choke down a few bites of the apple crisp Heather had made for their dessert. Realizing that he wasn't hungry - and guessing that everything tasted a little funny, too - she had cleared away their dishes and then they'd settled in to exchange the rest of their gifts. In addition to Baron, Heather had surprised Jake with a picture frame containing copies of the two photographs from their trip to Wyoming which he kept on his dresser upstairs and, blushing crimson, a key to her house. "It's not really a Christmas present," she'd explained nervously, "I just got the silly idea to wrap it. But since I'll be gone for two and a half weeks, I was gonna ask if you would check in on things and water my plants? When you're not sick, I mean," she'd completed with a sigh.
"I'll water 'em," Jake had croaked out, "But no guarantees that they'll still be alive when you get home," he'd joked, letting his head fall against the back of the couch, enjoying the chance - even in his illness addled state - to study Heather by the soft glow given off by the candles behind her.
"You, Jake Green, who comes from a proud and long line of Kansas farmers and ranchers, are gonna kill my plants?" Heather had teased as she'd reached for her last present. Earlier, she'd opened the Lonestar CD Lonely Grill, which she hadn't already had and had been glad to get - especially from Jake - and then a gift certificate from the nursery in Fielding for a rosebush of her choosing come spring. He'd even promised to help her plant it.
"A philodendron is different from growing a couple of hundred acres of wheat or corn, I think," Jake had argued, chuckling. "Not that I think I'd make a good farmer," he'd shrugged, twining their fingers together, "Rancher, breeding horses, sure. But farming? Not really my style."
"Fair enough," Heather had smiled, shaking the small package, trying to discern its contents. "Hmmm," she'd murmured, examining the box. "Well, they do say that the best things come in tiny packages...."
"Just open it already," Jake had ordered gruffly.
Grinning, Heather had complied, ripping the wrapping paper off and scrunching it into a ball which she'd tossed across the room for the eager Baron to fetch. Jake, distracted by the puppy's antics as he'd scrambled after the paper ball, had missed the actual moment when Heather had lifted the lid off the box, glancing at her only after he'd heard her gasp. "Oh, wow. Jake!" she'd exclaimed, hand over her mouth, her wide-eyed gaze flicking between him and the item in her hand. "These are - I can't believe you - thank you," she'd decided finally, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his mouth.
"I thought no mucus membranes," Jake had joked as she pulled away.
"You just like saying 'mucus membranes'," she had accused, giggling. "And you're four, five days in, so probably not contagious, plus I had a flu shot," she'd dismissed. Quickly, Heather had taken out the earrings she'd been wearing and had exchanged them for the diamond studs that Jake had given her. "I've never - these are the nicest earrings - jewelry - I've ever had. Thank you!"
Jake had smiled then, pleased by her enthusiastic reception of his gift. "Well, they look nice," he'd told her, covering his mouth as he started to cough.
"Thank you," she'd repeated, a sympathetic frown marring her expression. "You okay?" Heather asked as his coughing had subsided. Jake had nodded and she'd smiled in return. "Okay, I have to go see for myself then," she'd declared excitedly, patting him on the knee and then jumping to her feet. He'd followed her with his eyes, watching her as she'd made her way to the adjoining powder room. Leaving the door open, she'd gathered her hair in one hand, piling it on top of her head so she could better admire her earrings in the mirror over the sink. As she'd examined her reflection, Jake had studied the curve of her neck, recalling the sensation of her delicate skin beneath his lips and how she always shivered when he kissed her there. His gaze boring into her, Jake had groaned quietly, damning the flu that had derailed their plans and left him sitting on the couch rather than standing with Heather, admiring her reflection, kissing her, and ultimately - he'd admitted to himself - taking that final step and making love with her. "Wow," Heather had murmured, letting her hair fall back into place before snapping off the powder room light.
Over their connection, Jake heard a scuffle and then an unknown and overly chipper female voice greeted him. "Cowboy Jake?" she inquired, laughing softly.
"Sure," he chuckled in return. "Though, you know I'm not actually a cowboy, right?"
"Heather said," the woman agreed. "But we don't believe her. I'm sister-in-law Kerry by the way," she introduced herself. "And I just have t' - stop it!" she shrieked. "Not you," she added helpfully, "Heather." In the background, Jake could hear Heather protesting the confiscation of the phone. "I'll give it back in a second!" Kerry huffed, presumably at her sister-in-law though, this time, she didn't clarify that point. "I just have to say, Jake, nice job on the earrings. Of course," she plowed ahead, not even bothering to breathe, "You've made yourself a mortal enemy of the brothers' Lisinski. I actually heard Andy telling Tommy earlier that Deb asked for a new vacuum cleaner for Christmas, and now you ruined it, getting Heather those earrings. Now, Deb probably did ask for the vacuum," Kerry sighed, "But it doesn't mean she isn't hoping for something else, and Andy should know that."
"Would it help if I admitted my sister-in-law went shopping with me, helped pick them out?" Jake asked, scratching Baron behind the ear. The puppy flopped over onto his back, offering his belly up for similar treatment.
"Yeah," Kerry decided after a moment's contemplation, "But I'm not telling the boys that. Anyway, it was nice to 'meet' you, Cowboy Jake," she declared, giggling a beat later. "You get a definite seal of approval from me."
"Nice to 'meet' you too, sister-in-law Kerry," he returned, grinning to himself.
"Merry Christmas!" she added. "Now, I'll give you back to Heather before she twists my arm off. Ow!"
"Sorry about that," Heather laughed, coming back on the line. "She snuck up on me and stole the phone," she complained. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she told him softly, her voice a soothing caress over the distance that separated them. "I miss you."
"Miss you, too," Jake echoed.
"So what's going on?" she inquired softly.
"Nothin' much," he answered automatically. "Well, you missed a pretty funny pageant at church," he informed her. "Your favorite two year old decided that sixth sheep was a speaking part."
"Woody? And you went to church?" she asked, obviously surprised. "I'm going, too. In... twenty two minutes. Dad, Mikey and I are all gonna catch the midnight mass," Heather explained, fighting a yawn. "Sorry, jetlag," she admitted, her tone sheepish. "So what did sheep number six say?"
"It's Christmas. Makes my Mom happy that we're all together," he answered, letting his head drop against the back of the couch. Baron whined in protest of the sudden lack of scratching and then hopped down, making a sudden dash for the corner. "I'm still allowed to go to church on Christmas, right?" Jake reminded.
"Well that's true," Heather conceded brightly.
Jake sat up to watch as Baron backed up, dragging a toy - a couple of tennis balls tied up in an old tube sock - with him. Jake had no idea where the toy had come from, but it seemed to intrigue the puppy, who dropped it, sniffed it, growled at it, and finally looked back at Jake, as if seeking a second opinion. "Sorry, can't help, pal," Jake informed him.
"Who are you talking to?" she asked, giggling softly. "The Red Baron?"
"Yeah. He's locked in mortal combat with a sock," Jake snorted.
"Go, Baron," Heather cheered quietly. "But what happened with Woody? What'd he say?"
"Pretty much he said 'baa, baa'," he answered, a moment later adding, "Oh, and Mom says he was saying, 'that's not baby Jesus, that's my sister', but I don't know how the hell she figured that out. Margaret and Jimmy were playing Mary and Joseph, and the baby -"
"Sally," she supplied helpfully.
"Right," Jake nodded to himself. "Anyway, the baby was baby Jesus, and Woody was a sheep, and he kept goin' over to the manger and stickin' his face in the baby's and saying 'baa baa'," he explained with a snort. "Woke her up and she started screaming. It just sort of went downhill from there, though Gramps said he hadn't enjoyed a pageant so much in years," Jake laughed.
"Aw, that sounds cute," Heather argued, a smile in her voice. "So what else did you do today?" she asked, and Jake could imagine her hiding in some corner somewhere, twisting the phone cord around her fingers as she said these words.
"April had to be at work at like six for a two day shift, so we had a big lunch and then opened presents. That's it, really," he told her. Baron picked up his toy and carried it to Jake, dropping it at his feet. With his free hand, Jake grabbed one end of the damp sock which was enough to start a tug-o-war between him and the dog. "So, what'd you do? Get in some hockey practice?" he teased as he continued to play with the puppy.
"Nah," she denied. "Slept in, and then I took the kids to the movies," Heather explained, "Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius. Excellent flick," she joked, "Very exciting. But, you guys already opened your presents? Before Christmas?"
"It's Christmas," Jake argued, yanking the sock away from the puppy and then tossing it across the room. Baron darted after the toy, growling.
"It's Christmas Eve," Heather countered. "You're supposed to wait for Christmas morning, after Santa comes."
"Uh, babe," he began, snickering, "Hate to be the one to break this to ya -"
"I know Santa's not real," she whispered into the phone, her tone exasperated. Jake could only assume that her nieces and nephew were still within earshot, and that they - some of them at least - still did believe in Santa Claus. "But it's still part of the magic of Christmas ... the anticipation. The joy of waking up to that Santa present on Christmas morning."
"Okay," Jake returned easily. "But even when I believed in Santa - back when I was four," he drawled, "I still opened all my presents from everybody else on Christmas Eve." On the other end of their connection, Heather emitted an annoyed sound. "So, what, present opening is a deal breaker?" Jake scoffed, leaning over to pick up Baron's sock. "You gave me Baron before Christmas," he reminded. Waiting for her response, Jake tossed the toy across the room, sending the puppy skittering after it once more. "Uh, babe?" he prompted a few seconds later after the deafening silence became too much. "Seriously -"
"Well I don't know," Heather sniffed, and Jake would have considered panicking if he'd had the time. But in the next instance, a giggle escaped her and he let out the breath he hadn't realized had caught in his throat. "Traditions are - they're important," she told him, still trying not to laugh. "But I guess I can adapt."
"Hey, you can save your presents for Christmas morning," he offered, his mouth suddenly dry as he allowed himself to consider the possibility of spending Christmas Eve with Heather, waking up beside her on Christmas morning, sharing those moments that on TV and in the movies had always seemed so cheesy and now seemed ... right. "But, I'm stickin' to Christmas Eve."
Heather chuckled at that. "Okay, fine," she conceded. "So how'd you do?" she inquired a moment later. "Get good stuff?"
"Clothes, shirts mostly," he answered, "And Baron got a giant dog bed with his name monogrammed on it. He's already being completely spoiled. My Mom's calling him her grandpuppy," Jake grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But the big excitement around here is that Eric got April a house."
"Like a house house?" Heather demanded, her tone incredulous. "Wow."
"Yup," Jake confirmed, "A house house. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, three car garage and a big backyard," he catalogued. "Eric's even threatening to put in a putting green," he added with a snort.
The Greens had all been in on the surprise, which - rather unexpectedly - had turned out to be a lot of fun. Eric had included them all mostly to secure their cooperation in rushing through lunch and the present opening that had followed. They had been finished by two, and April, her expression bemused, had thanked them all for their consideration before pointing out that she didn't really need to leave for Rogue River until after four. Then, Eric had claimed to have found one more present beneath the tree and, crawling out from behind it, had held out a small white jewelry box which had a red bow - as big as the box - affixed to the top. "Got your name on it," Eric had told his wife, grinning at her as he'd handed it over.
"Eric," April had murmured questioningly, glancing toward the couch where Gail, Johnston and Grandpa had all been sitting, each smiling brightly in return. "What'd you do?" she'd demanded, giggling nervously.
"Open it," he'd ordered, and she had, prying the top off the box to find a single key on a Kansas Liberty Bank keychain nestled in the cotton batting.
"What - what's this?" she had asked, her voice hitching, as she'd extracted the key from the box, dangling it by the key ring. "Eric."
"The house on Granville," he'd told her, his smile wide. "The one with the big window in front and the two apple trees in the backyard. Well," Eric had shrugged, "Escrow closes on January third. It's ours. Merry Christmas, doc."
Dropping the key, she'd launched herself into his arms, kissing him soundly. The rest of the family had chuckled in appreciation, and Jake had witnessed his mother and grandfather exchange a rather delighted look. Baron, attracted by the flash of the key in the light and the muted thunk of it striking the hardwood floor, had immediately moved to investigate, forcing Jake to step in and scoop it out from beneath his probing nose and mouth. "Slimed but at least not swallowed," Jake had grumbled, wiping his hand on his jeans and then holding the key chain out to his sister-in-law.
"Thanks," April had giggled, twisting around in the circle of Eric's arms to take the key from Jake. "And you," she'd accused, hitting her husband harmlessly on the chest as she'd turned back to face him. "You're not supposed to be such a good liar!" she'd complained, fighting a smile. "What happened to 'they made a better offer, for more than it's worth, and we gotta let this one go'?"
Eric had shrugged and flashed her a satisfied smirk. "It was all for a good cause," he'd shrugged, reminding, "Besides, I'm a lawyer. I know how to lie without lyin'."
"Well, thank you, Eric, for confirmin' what I've long suspected," Grandpa had declared, chuckling. He'd slapped his leg and climbed to his feet, suggesting, "So why don't we all go check it out?"
"A house, that's so cool," Heather enthused, "But I hope she's let him off the hook on the roses," she added, giggling.
"He got her some of those, too," Jake replied. "They were in the kitchen when we went over to the house to have a look."
"So you got to see it? April told me they'd put an offer in on a house she absolutely loved right after Thanksgiving but they didn't get it," Heather sighed. "She was so bummed."
"That's the house Eric bought," he interjected. "Made some deal with the real estate agent to keep it secret so he could surprise her."
Grandpa, Jake and Baron had ridden over to the house with Eric and April in the Explorer, a captive and amused audience as Eric had explained everything he'd done in order to pull off the surprise. The real estate agent and the sellers had both been given bonuses to insure their cooperation, and Eric had admitted with a snort that he'd been up at three AM one night faxing in a counteroffer to the bid he and April had put in eight hours earlier. "I felt like I was leading a double life," he'd joked, turning the vehicle into the driveway.
April, who hadn't stopped smiling since she'd opened her gift, had giggled appreciatively and then had kissed Eric again in reward. "You're sneaky, and I love you," she'd laughed, pulling away and popping open her door. Jumping out of the truck, she'd hurried toward the other car, walking around to meet Gail as she'd exited the passenger's side. "C'mon!" April had demanded gleefully, looping her arm through her mother-in-law's.
The two women had led the way into the house, April grinning widely as she'd opened the door with her key. Eric had explained that although escrow hadn't yet closed, the owners had already moved to Texas and he'd arranged a short term lease to cover the ten days in between so the house was theirs. Johnston, trailing the group through the living room had teased April, asking if she planned to move in on Wednesday, even if it meant she was forced to sleep in a sleeping bag on the living room floor. Gail had laughed at that and informed the rest of them that that was exactly how she and Johnston had spent their first night in their home in Jericho. "Yeah, we did," Johnston had agreed, "The truck didn't arrive from Lawrence 'til the next day."
"We invited you to stay at the ranch," Grandpa had reminded as April and Gail had admired the gourmet kitchen and the bouquet of a dozen red roses arranged in a vase on the center island.
"Of course, Eric's the better cook," April had laughed, kissing his cheek. "Roses and my house," she'd whispered against his skin, "Ya did good, Ricky. Thank you." She'd squeezed his hand and then turned around to face the rest of the family, suggesting a tour of the second floor.
Jake had stomped upstairs along with everyone else, Baron's leash in hand, enjoying April's excitement over the house. As he'd followed along he'd caught himself imaging what it would be like to surprise Heather in the same manner, though not with a house of course. While Jake had inherited the Green family's propensity toward quiet romanticism (and the occasional grand display) he did not have his brother's anal attention to detail, and he was pretty sure both would be required to surprise someone with a house. But Jake could readily imagine Heather's delight over a specially planned evening or weekend, perhaps a mystery vacation. Half an ear to the conversation and an absent smile lighting his features, he'd continued to contemplate the possibilities.
During the tour, the conversation had naturally been carried mostly by the two women, who'd mentally placed furniture in the master bedroom and had discussed paint colors and window treatments. The master bathroom had been examined and determined to be in need of a complete remodel, prompting a groan from Eric and lots of teasing from his father and grandfather. A guestroom had been designated, and the wallpaper in the second bathroom had been deemed hideous. They'd moved down the hall, cataloging each room until finally, opening the door to the last unexplored space, April had let out a long breath. "And this will be perfect for a nursery, don't you think, Mom?" she'd inquired. "Well, eventually," she'd clarified a few seconds later, allowing a nervous chuckle.
Eric had slipped past his mother, moving to April's side. "But sooner/eventually, rather than later/eventually, right?" he'd asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.
April had tilted her head back, looking up at her husband, and had nodded, a soft smile creeping onto her lips. "Yeah," she'd agreed, a slight catch in her voice, "Sooner rather than later."
"A lovely nursery," Gail had beamed at them both. "Some sunny yellow paint, maybe some wainscoting," she'd suggested, surveying the room for a second time. "And, a rocking chair would be perfect in that corner, next to the window," she'd added, pointing.
"Not that she's pushing," Grandpa had declared, chuckling. He'd moved next to his daughter-in-law, pulling her into a one armed hug and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Right, Abigail, darlin'?"
"That's so cool!" Heather repeated. "Is April really happy?"
"Says it's her dream house," Jake smiled, recalling just how excited his sister-in-law had been. "Said she's so happy that she thinks she can even be nice to the turkey fryer accident people who end up in the ER," he chuckled. "It was a pretty good Christmas."
"Well, that's good, except it's not over," she reminded, allowing an exasperated laugh. "So when do they move in?"
"April would've had us all over packin' up if she hadn't had to go to work," he snorted. "Though I guess they want to remodel the bathroom first - and since Gramps is their landlord - they can take their time."
"Really? He owns their place?" Heather inquired. "It's a nice house," she yawned softly. "I was surprised when April said they were looking to move."
"That's the house Gramps supposedly lived in when he was mayor," Jake answered, sitting up. "Put him inside the town limits." He leaned over and snatched Baron's sock from him, teasing the puppy with it for a moment before tossing it a few feet away. Baron pounced on it, yipping. "I don't even know if they pay rent," he admitted, "Probably don't, knowing Gramps. But they needed a place to live so...."
"That sounds like Gramps," she murmured. "I've gotta go soon," Heather added a beat later, sighing softly.
"I wish you were here," he told her, his tone suddenly serious. "It was a good day," Jake said, a nervous cough escaping him, "But it woulda been better, ya know, with - with you."
"I miss you, too," Heather replied, "And, I can't believe it's gonna be another two weeks. I -"
She was cut off by a flurry of activity on her end of the line. Through the phone, Jake heard a child - he couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl - screech, "Auntie Heather! Time for church!" and then this was followed up by at least two male voices, teasing her about "Talkin' to the cowboy," and demanding that she "Get off the phone already!"
"None of you are even going to mass," Heather reminded, grumbling. "Plus, Santa can't come 'til everybody goes to bed." The child's answer was garbled, and Jake could only make out Heather's reply. "Remember to put out carrots with the cookies," she suggested, "For the reindeer." More people seemed to come into the room then, and there was a long, complicated exchange of 'good nights' and 'Merry Christmases' before she was finally alone. "Sorry about that," Heather apologized.
"It's okay," he assured her, "I better let you go."
"Yeah," she whispered. "I love you, Jake."
"Love you, too."
"I'll call you tomorrow," Heather promised.
Jake nodded, reaching down to pat Baron's head as the puppy settled himself against his master's leg. "You better."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wednesday, December 6, two and a half months after the bombs
Not even ten minutes later, shivering, Jake re-entered the bedroom, catching the door just before it slammed shut behind him. As Heather had predicted he was most definitely freezing. The water coming out of the showerhead had been so cold Jake really thought it should have been coming out as slush and, as he'd rushed to lather up and rinse off - his teeth chattering the entire time - he'd decided it might be a good idea to check the insulation on the pipes one more time. He'd quickly toweled off in the bathroom and then had tied the towel around his waist, eager to get back to the relative warmth of the bedroom where the temperature had to be at least five degrees higher.
Looking up from her book, Heather smiled at Jake as he tossed his dirty clothes at the hamper, mostly making his shot. He moved toward the dresser next, rummaging through a drawer for sweats and a t-shirt, all the time keenly aware of Heather's eyes on him. Jake was cold, but not so cold that he couldn't enjoy the fact that his wife was ogling his backside appreciatively; already he felt a little warmer. Pulling on a pair of navy sweatpants - he was cold enough that he wasn't willing to forgo clothing at that moment - he turned around, t-shirt in hand, flashing his best 'come hither' look at Heather.
She allowed a throaty chuckle, sending a tremor through Jake that had nothing to do with being half frozen. Heather held her hand out to him. "C'm'ere."
"So that shower was really, really cold," Jake began, slinging his t-shirt over his shoulder.
"And you need some warmin' up, huh?" Heather guessed, grinning at him. Jake dropped to a seat on the bed beside her, reaching for her hand. "What's this?" she asked, frowning, as she avoided his grasp and instead touched the puffy and purpling welt on his shoulder. "Jake, what happened?" she persisted, massaging the injury with gentle, tentative strokes.
"It's not as bad as it looks, I swear," he answered, scooting closer and leaning into her touch. "But don't stop. That feels good."
"Jake," she scolded, kneading his skin a little harder.
"Teacher voice," he accused mildly, meeting her gaze. Undeterred, Heather rolled her eyes, and Jake, heaving a sigh, began to speak again a few seconds later. "It's not a big deal. We had a small altercation at Black Jack. I told you, it's not a nice place. They're kinda into martial law there," he snorted. Jake figured that was the best description of Black Jack justice he could give without bringing up the 'all thieves will be hanged' policy. "And after we couldn't come to an agreement about the governor, Dale got it into his head to steal the part, and -"
"What!" Heather demanded, her hand stilling against his shoulder. She shook her head. "What was he thinking?"
"I dunno," Jake shrugged, pulling his t-shirt off his uninjured shoulder and then dragging it on over his head. "He's a kid. He was thinkin' like a kid, I guess. The seller we were dealing with is never gonna get a humanitarian of the year award, trust me," Jake muttered. "Dale figured he was a bad guy and the normal rules didn't apply. They tried to arrest him, even after we gave the part back, and we didn't figure it was a good idea to let Dale outta our sight, so, you know... altercation."
She considered all of this silently for a long moment before finally expelling a deep breath. "You could've -" she started and then stopped. "But you couldn't let them take Dale," she acknowledged finally, her lips pursed. "Shouldn't have put your shirt on," Heather told him a beat later, resting her hands over the child she carried. "Now how'm I supposed to kiss it and make it all better?"
He laughed at that outright, grasping the hem of his t-shirt with both hands. "Well, if that's -" he began only to have Heather rest her hand over one of his, against his stomach, stopping him.
"Hold that thought," she ordered. "We will get back to it, I promise," Heather giggled, moving both hands up to cup his face before pressing her mouth to his. They exchanged one, two, three quick kisses, and then she pulled away, reaching to her left and behind her. She hefted a contraption - a black cone attached to the earpieces of a stethoscope and some sort of plate that he couldn't even describe, all rolled up into one - and placed it in her lap. "I've got a surprise for you," Heather smiled.
"What the hell is that thing?" Jake demanded, pointing at the item. "Seriously, it looks like some kinda torture device."
"It's a fetoscope," Heather answered, "A stethoscope for listening to a baby in the womb. Drake found it at the clinic and brought it home for me to test out. April tried, but she's not far enough along yet," she explained, picking it up and handing it to him. "Hold that a minute, please," she requested, straightening in her seat. Heather shoved the covers down to her knees - Jake had to get up for a second - and pulled her legs loose and folded them together so that she was sitting cross-legged. Then she unbuttoned the bottom three buttons of her pajama top and lifted her long underwear shirt up, exposing her belly. "Drake showed me how to use it after dinner," she added, taking back the fetoscope which Jake continued to eye suspiciously. "Probably not the best time with digestion going on," she admitted, laughing softly. Smiling at Jake, Heather fitted the earpieces into her ears and then placed what he realized was a headpiece against her forehead and the horn against her belly. "Ew! Cold," she complained.
"You really wanna talk about cold?" he grumbled, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Good point," Heather agreed with a soft chuckle. "And it's starting to warm up," she admitted. "Let me see if I can find the baby's heartbeat again, and then you can listen if you want."
"I want," Jake murmured, watching, fascinated as she slowly moved the horn over the mound of her pregnancy, straining to find their child's heartbeat. "Does - does that hurt?" he inquired.
"Nah," she said, lifting her head off the brace and smiling at him. "There's a little pressure, but I'm retaining all this fluid all of sudden," Heather joked, "So it's not so bad. Now, April and Drake both said you can accidentally listen to the placenta and not the baby," she told him, pressing her forehead into the headpiece. "I didn't know you could hear the placenta, but that's what they said. It's why you have to use the brace. Your head helps conduct the sound," she explained. "Now let me see...." Heather fell quiet for a moment, moving the horn over an inch. She listened and then offered Jake a wide smile. "Found it," she whispered.
Very carefully, she transferred the stethoscope and headpiece to Jake while at the same time working to hold the horn in place against her abdomen. They both laughed quietly at just how complicated the process turned out to be, but finally Jake was ready to listen. Expectantly, Heather watched for his reaction, surprised when he frowned. "Is it supposed to be that fast?" he asked, a worried note in his tone. "If I'm listenin' to the right thing, it sounds like B.G.'s about to have a heart attack."
"It's supposed to be that fast," Heather assured him, "Don't worry. The smaller you are, the faster your heartbeat. At least that's true for humans."
"That's good," Jake sighed, nodding. A pleased smile replaced his frown and he leaned closer - as close as he could while keeping the brace against his forehead - and laid one hand on her abdomen, next to the horn. "That's - it's - it's amazing," he told her a long moment later, flashing Heather the goofiest grin she'd ever seen him sport. "Hey there, B.G.," he whispered, stroking his fingers over the swell of their baby. It was another thirty seconds or so before Jake pulled the earpieces loose. "Thank you," he said, his voice catching in his throat.
"You're welcome," she returned, accepting the fetoscope from Jake. She added it to the pile of things on the nightstand. "I thought you'd like that," Heather whispered. "It's neat, huh?" Jake's answer was to kiss her. When they separated, both breathless, she smiled at him, running her hand up his arm. "So, slight shift of topic, but what do you think of the name Ethan?" Heather asked, tugging her thermal top back down over her belly. "As our boy name."
"I like it fine," Jake shrugged. "But I thought all naming rights belong to she who has to give birth," he joked.
"Hey, I've had all the naming rights for years," Heather reminded, "Without giving birth to anything. But you definitely get veto power," she informed him, trailing her fingers down his arm until she caught his hand in hers, squeezing it. "I've been trying to come up with an 'E' name," she explained, "And I like Ethan the best. I've considered Elliott, Edward, Evan, Eben -"
"Eben?" he interrupted, his tone incredulous. "Like Ebenezer? Uh-uh. Definite veto. And, Elliott'll just get him beat up."
"Well...yeah," she conceded, allowing a guilty giggle. "But I really want an 'E' name," Heather repeated. "So - so he can be EJ."
"The second coming of EJ Green to Jericho, Kansas, huh?" Jake chuckled, raising her hand to his mouth so he could kiss her palm. "I like it," he murmured against her skin, "And so would Gramps. It's perfect."
Heather grinned and let out a relieved breath. "Good. So, Ethan Jacob or Abigail Renate. EJ or Abby," she concluded, reaching for her ChapStick. She began to apply the lip balm, admitting with a laugh, "I think I'm addicted. I'm gonna have to limit myself to no more than five times a day." She finished and recapped the tube. "Well, maybe ten."
Jake waited until she'd set the ChapStick on the nightstand and then reached for her hand. Lacing their fingers together, he leaned toward her, brushing his lips across hers. "Think I'm addicted, too," he murmured huskily.
Giggling, Heather caught Jake for another kiss as he began to pull away, while at the same time she started to tug on the end of his t-shirt. Catching on immediately, Jake took over, only breaking their kiss when he absolutely had to in order to get the shirt off over his head. Heather took him by surprise then, shifting closer to press her lips to his bruise. She peppered his tender flesh with butterfly kisses, caressing him with her mouth. Within seconds it was too much for Jake, and he cupped her chin, tilting her head up so he could cover her mouth with his own. "Gettin' warmer?" she inquired between kisses.
"Startin' to," he agreed, using one hand to undo the remaining buttons on her pajama top.
"Good," Heather breathed into his mouth. She shrugged out of the top, requesting, "Go lock the door."
Grinning at her, Jake reached for the hem of her thermal shirt. "Already did," he answered.
Laughing, Heather raised her arms over her head, making it easier for him to peel the shirt off of her. "Good."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 13
Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius was released to theaters in the United States in December 2001 by Paramount Pictures. Coincidentally, it is the film I took my little cousins to see over Christmas break 2001.
To see a picture of the type of fetoscope Heather was using, go to: http://pregnancy.about.com/od/prenatalcare/ss/listeningtobaby_3.htm
And finally, it's time for a confession. You probably noticed that I've now snuck a dog into Different Circumstances. I actually always thought that Jake and Heather had a dog (and that Heather might possibly have a cat). Heather even alluded to "all the other animals" in Part 2, but I just didn't know what would happen to their pets so I chickened out and never put them into the story. Fast forward to a discussion with my wonderful beta readers about what Heather and Jake should get one another for Christmas. The consensus was a dog, definitely. Of course this meant that I had to figure out what happened to the poor puppy (hit by a car? parvo?) but by then we were all so much in love with Baron already that we couldn't let anything happen to him. In fact, if I had let something happen to him, I'm pretty sure my beta readers would have gone on strike! So Baron lives, and therefore I have gone back and made a few parts of Different Circumstances "Baron Compliant". One of the benefits of internet publishing.
If you're interested in reading those parts, they are:
- Part 2 (minor mentions in the discussion of the coming storm)
- Part 6A (added to the scene at the barn when the Greens' horses are stolen)
- Part 9A (minor mentions in the discussion of going out to the ranch to feed the horses)
- Part 9B (minor mention when Jake and Heather run into one another on Main Street)