The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 13C of ? by Marzee Doats


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Tuesday, December 26, three months after the bombs

It had taken a few more tries - not to mention Mimi getting frustrated and demanding to know how hard he'd hit his head because what was so difficult to understand about having been robbed - but they had finally convinced Stanley that everything that was at all useful was now gone.  Even Jake's and Stanley's coats, as Jake had grumpily pointed out, had been stolen right off their backs.  Now Jake sat with his leg trapped under the truck, arms crossed, and his sweatshirt's hood pulled up in a vain attempt to keep warm as the wind whipped across the plain, penetrating to the bone.

Mimi had begun to pace the length of the truck, her fists buried deep within her coat's pockets.  Watching her make the turn, Stanley squatted next to his friend, patting him on the shoulder.  "How're your legs?"

"I don't know," Jake muttered, barely audible over the whistling of the wind.  He tucked his hands deeper into his armpits.  "I can't feel anything," he added, shivering.

Stanley shook his head at his miserable friend.  His coat had been stolen too, but Jake was in much worse shape.  "The ground's frozen solid," he reminded, rather unnecessarily, Jake couldn't help but think, feeling peevish.  "It's sucking the heat right out of you."

"Why can't we build a fire?" Mimi asked, turning toward the two men, her hair blowing, annoyingly, into her mouth.   She made a face and, with her clumsy, gloved fingers, pulled the damp strands off her tongue.

"You smell the fumes?" Jake asked, shouting as he blew on his bare hands to warm them.  But his efforts were futile.  He couldn't stop shaking and every time he opened his mouth and the cold air hit the back of his throat, it seared through him, bringing tears to his eyes.  "Build a - a fi - fire, and bl - blow us all - all to king - kingdom come."  Jake slapped the frame of the truck with his cold fingers, causing them to sting that much more.  "Bar - barbe - beque me," he snorted through chattering teeth.  "You have to get ba - back to town," he told them.

Squeezing Jake's shoulder, Stanley levered himself up.  ""All right," he agreed, yelping when he put weight on his bad foot, "I'm going to try and go."

"No," Mimi protested, shaking her head.  "You can't go on that ankle."  She took a deep breath and declared, "I'll go."

But Stanley wasn't hearing of it.  "No, those guys are still out there," he snapped, hopping on his good leg.  "No way."

"They went the other way," Jake insisted, shaking his head.  Ignoring Stanley's protests, he glanced up, catching Mimi's eye.  "All right, Jericho has a patrol five miles out of town," he explained, refusing to let himself think about the timing.  Sure, the patrol went up to five miles out of town during the day, but by his own rules, everybody was always back inside the checkpoints by dark.  It was the only way he could get volunteers to even go on patrol.  "All right," Jake continued, rushing, "We - we couldn't have come more than ten -"

"Jake!" Stanley interrupted, obviously annoyed, "It's too dangerous."

"What are our options?" Mimi interjected, tension obvious in her tone.

"With no bags?" Jake shouted, his fear and frustration boiling over.  "And no fire?"  A shudder ran through his whole body.  He couldn't keep himself from shaking.  He couldn't feel his legs or his hands even as he watched himself clutch them into fists.  He was freezing; it was something he'd said a million times in his life, but he'd always been wrong before this.  Now he was actually freezing.  "One of us goes," he barked, "Or we all die out here!"

Stanley drew in a sharp breath, though it was inaudible given the strong wind blowing around them.  He looked at Mimi and then at Jake, trapped under the truck.  He wanted to object.   There was no way she could walk all the way back to Jericho, but Jake was right: they were in mortal danger.  He didn't want anything to happen to Mimi - God, he loved her - but he didn't want to die out here either.  "All right."  The words burst from his mouth almost against his will.  "Fine," he grumbled, "Fine."

Mimi ran toward him as Stanley, limping, stumbled toward her.  They met in the middle, in an awkward embrace and then she forced him to wrap his arm around her shoulders and use her as a crutch as they moved toward the road.  "I threw a flashlight somewhere over there," Jake called after them, twisting around to point at the high grass.  "You might need it.  Make a - make a good weapon, if nothin' else."

She bent over to retrieve the flashlight and a bottle of water before Stanley could get the brilliant idea to do it himself.  Handing the water to him, she clutched the Maglite to her chest, licking her lips nervously.  Mimi - if she were being honest with herself - was a lot more than nervous.  Scared.  Petrified.  There really wasn't a strong enough word for what she was.  But someone had to save them, and she was it. 

"Listen," Stanley began, urgency coloring his tone, "Stay on the shoulder the whole time, okay?"  He tucked the bottle of water into his vest pocket and then reached for her hand, gripping it tightly.  "If you see any headlights, hear any engines...get low and hide," he ordered.  Sucking a deep breath in through his teeth, he continued, wincing.  "All right.  Now you're gonna want to head southeast -"

"Stanley," Mimi interrupted, frowning softly, "That doesn't mean anything to me."

"Okay, okay," he acknowledged, closing his eyes for a second.  "Stay on this road," he decided.  "And then you make - make your first left, okay?"  Stanley shook his head, willing himself to remember the way despite his headache.  He hadn't told them about the dull throbbing on the right side of his head, or that his vision was just the slightest bit blurry.  "And - and you're gonna go about a mile," he estimated, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.   "And then you're gonna make your second right.  Then you're going to make another right...then another left."  That was it, he was sure.  That was the best route.  "Okay," he sighed, "Now once - once you get to the crossroads of the highway, you're home free.  You'll see a big sign pointing the way to Jericho. Okay, you got it?"

"Left...second right, right...left," she repeated for him, then offered the most hesitant of smiles.

"Right," he agreed, clearing his throat roughly.  "Mimi, I ..."

"Don't worry," Mimi commanded, clutching his forearm.  "Don't worry," she repeated, "I'll be careful."

Letting out a slow breath, Stanley nodded, though every fiber of his being was protesting the decision.  How could he let her go?  "Okay," he murmured.  "Okay."

He watched her move away from them, walking quickly before breaking into a jog.  She looked back only once.  Squinting, he stared down the road, in the direction she'd gone, for nearly five minutes after she had disappeared from sight before giving up and limping back to the truck and his friend, caught beneath it.  "She'll be fine," he muttered, holding onto the frame of the vehicle as he lowered himself into a seated position.  The ground was cold, but at least down low, next to the truck, he was sheltered a little bit from the wind.  When it was blowing from the south.  Which it never seemed to be.  "She'll be fine," Stanley repeated.

Jake looked up.  He'd gotten into a ball as best he could manage, hoping to preserve some body heat, though his muscles tightened up if he stayed in any one position for too long.  He'd wanted to give them some privacy too, not that he could hear what they were saying, and not that they had even exchanged a kiss goodbye.  But still, he could tell that Stanley was worried.  "She'll be fine," Jake echoed.  He waited a moment, studying his friend, worry plainly written on his wrinkled forehead.  "You really - you really care about her."

"Yeah, well," Stanley shrugged, his frown deepening.  "How the hell would you feel if that was Heather, walkin' ten miles back to town when those - those people are out there?" he demanded roughly.

A shudder ran through Jake that had nothing to do with the fact that he could no longer feel his extremities.  "I'd hate it," he admitted gruffly. 

Stanley, blowing into his cupped hands to warm them, signaled his agreement with a nod.

"C'mon," he cajoled some forty five minutes later, limping back to where Jake lay on the ground, shivering so violently he had to clench his chattering teeth to keep from biting his tongue.   "It ain't so bad, right?" Stanley tried joking as he shoved the dried grass he'd gathered underneath Jake's head.  He had to do something to keep Jake's temperature from dropping further, so now he was trying to get something - an insulator - between the cold, hard ground and his friend, even if he had to do it one handful of weeds at a time.  If he could buy him a degree - hell, half a degree - of core body temperature, it would be worth it.  "Hey," Stanley chuckled, "We've been through worse.  Remember the time we got stuck on the roof of town hall in the middle of a lightning storm?"

"Y - you were so af - fraid the lightning wa - as gonna blow up the fi - fireworks," Jake retorted with obvious effort. 

"You squealed like a little girl," Stanley accused, smiling softly at the memory.  They'd hatched a plot to enliven the Labor Day festivities - and out do the official Fourth of July fireworks display - but hadn't counted on the sudden storm which had sent the holiday picnickers scrambling for the indoors, completely unaware of the two adolescent boys on the roof.  "Wanting to jump off that roof," he reminded, stuffing another fistful of grass under Jake's shoulder.

"That was you," Jake countered, somehow overcoming his shakes for the moment.  "Your voice hadn't changed yet."

"Please!" Stanley scoffed, shaking his head as he surveyed the situation.  The pile beneath Jake was pitifully small, nowhere near enough to make a difference.  "I had you beat by six months," he laughed, glancing down at his friend.  Jake tried to force a smile but he was shivering uncontrollably.  Stanley didn't know what to do.  His hand brushed the bottle of water he'd shoved in his pocket earlier.  He'd forgotten all about it.  "Drink some water," he suggested, wondering even as he fumbled for the bottle if water would help.  Was Jake dehydrated?  Or would the water just chill him more?  These worries, however, were quickly supplanted by a disconcerting discovery.  "It's frozen right through!" Stanley gasped out, not quite able to believe it.  Frozen.  It was cold enough to freeze water in his pocket.  Oh, hell.  He dropped the bottle and stumbled, blindly, a few steps away.

"Wha?" Jake asked, groggily, slurring his words slightly.  "St - Stanley...."  He managed to get out despite his constant trembling.  "I saw a - an abandoned ca - cabin, 'bout a quar - quarter mile up the r - road.  Y - you need t - to get in - inside."

Turning back toward his friend, Stanley shook his head.  "No," he declared obstinately.

"It'll h - hurt, b - but you can ma - ake it."

"Jake, I'm staying," Stanley insisted, squatting down next to the other man.

Closing his eyes, Jake seemed to fight to get his next words out.  "Listen to me," he grumbled, his whole body clenched as, by force of will, he forced himself to stop shaking.  "There's no point in - in both of us freezing to d - death out here."

Stanley glanced over the dead body of the truck, looking vainly in the direction Mimi had gone.  "She's coming back," he argued.

"When!?" Jake gasped out, clearly at his wit's end.

"Well, she's been gone for like an hour," Stanley reasoned, forcing himself - headache and probably frostbite be damned - to think about the situation rationally.  "It'll take her time to reach the patrol," he muttered, hugging himself tightly, rubbing his arms in a futile attempt to find some warmth, fleeting though it might be.  "But when she does, she'll find someone, I know she'll find someone," he insisted, under his breath.

"Unless somebody else finds her first," Jake grimaced.  He clutched his fists to his chest, but still they, along with every other part of his body, shook.  "Look," he exhaled through chattering teeth, "It's gonna get - get dark soon.  You need to go."

"No," Stanley countered, shaking his head and peeling off his vest.  He sat down on the hard, cold earth next to Jake, spreading it over his chest.  The protection it offered was paltry at best, but it stated his case probably better than he could himself.  "You wouldn't leave me any more than I'd leave you," he said, scooting closer to his friend.  "Mimi's strong.  She'll find her way.  Besides," he sighed, "I don't wanna know what Heather would do to me if I left you out here.  Your wife can be scary sometimes."

Jake made a noise that Stanley supposed would have been a chuckle if he weren't slowly - and not even that slowly - freezing to death.  "She's not..." he began, but then seemed to lose his train of thought.  Jake let his eyes fall closed again.  For the last hour, since he'd accepted the reality of the situation - he was stuck under a truck and there was no changing that - he'd been paradoxically thinking only of Heather and trying to not think about her.  It was only his thoughts of her that had kept him fighting this long; if not for the picture he held in his mind of her as he'd last seen her - smiling at him sleepily as she'd kissed him goodbye that morning - he would have let go, given up to the bitter cold, the numbness, the overwhelming temptation to just fall asleep.  But he also didn't want to think about Heather, didn't want to think about how he was going to leave her to raise their child alone, didn't want to think about how he would never even get to see or hold his baby.  Jake knew, even if Stanley didn't yet, that he wasn't going to make it.  He knew because he couldn't even find the energy to be angry that he was dying and, against his will, abandoning his family to this terrifying new world.

  "She wouldn't hate you," he murmured, his eyes fluttering open.  His gaze locked with Stanley's.  "Not - not forever, anyway," he added, yawning.  "It's not your fault....  She'd know that."

"Yeah, well," Stanley muttered in return, "It's my truck that fell on you."  Snorting, he glanced down at Jake.  "But at least that means - ironically - that I can stay, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me," he informed his friend, squeezing his shoulder as he started to shiver softly himself.

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

Tuesday, January 1, five years before the bombs

Jake turned off the car and glanced sideways at Heather and Baron, shaking his head.  "You're spoiling him, you know," he snorted.  "He would have been fine in the back seat."

"Hey, you're the one who taught him to ride in the front while I was gone," Heather reminded, scratching behind the dog's ear.  "He's just a puppy," she insisted, planting a kiss on top of his head.

"Yeah, fifty pounds of puppy," Jake snorted.  He knew that dogs couldn't smile, but at moment Jake would have sworn that Baron was grinning.  If he couldn't be in the front seat with his head out the window then apparently Heather's lap was an acceptable alternative.  "You're really gonna like it when he doubles in size."

"Well, then he can sit in back," she decided, chuckling somewhat guiltily.  She leaned awkwardly over Baron, her lips puckered expectantly.

"I just saw you kiss the dog," Jake grumbled, but a second later he cupped her chin with one hand, and then pressed his mouth to hers. 

"It wasn't on the lips," Heather teased as she pulled away.  "I only kiss you on the lips."

"Let's keep it that way," he said, rolling his eyes.  "So you ready?" he asked.  "You know, my Mom's gonna probably scream really loud.  Like, the neighbors will come running loud," Jake warned, reaching over to pet Baron.

"Think I can handle it," she assured.  "In fact, let's not say anything, just wait for her to notice," Heather suggested, holding up her left hand and wiggling her ring at him.

Grinning, he nodded.  "I like it."  Jake caught her fingers in his, and squeezed them quickly before letting go and popping open his door.  "Gimme a second," he requested before climbing out of the car and coming around the front to open her door.  He led her up the front walk, one arm wrapped around her, while with the other he tried to control the enthusiastic puppy as he strained against the leash.  Baron was no dummy and he already recognized the Green home as a place of many treats and toys.  "Sit," Jake ordered the dog when they reached the front door.  He pressed the doorbell and then turned his head to brush a kiss over Heather's mouth, ignoring her somewhat perplexed expression.

"Coming!" they heard Gail shout from inside.  Seconds later she opened the door, smiling, though her smile turned as puzzled as Heather's when she saw that it was them standing there.  "Jake, honey!  And, Heather, sweetheart, whatever are you doing here?" she greeted, moving forward to offer them both quick hugs before she stepped back into the house, motioning them both in.  "Why in the world didn't you just come in?" Gail asked, unknowingly giving voice to Heather's own question; she rather liked the privilege of coming in through the kitchen as a member of the family.  "What are you ringing the doorbell for?"

"No reason, just because," Jake shrugged, letting Baron off his leash.  "Take your coat?" he asked Heather, already moving to help her out of it.

"Well, come in, come in," his mother insisted, wrapping her arm around Heather once the younger woman was divested of her coat.  Gail led her toward the living room, leaving Jake behind.  "Happy New Year!  Have you eaten?  Johnston's making pancakes so I can watch the Rose Parade," she explained, gesturing at the TV.  "I'm on the lookout for a Green Ranch horse that's with one of the equestrian units this year, and, well, I just enjoy a good parade," Gail laughed.

"Really?" Heather questioned, "I mean about the horse?  And, Happy New Year!" she echoed. 

"EJ got an email from the owner about the unit being invited," Gail answered.  "From over in Greeley County. The Greeley Riders."

"That's so neat!" Heather declared, "For the Green Ranch.  For all of us - all of you, I mean," she corrected quickly, looking back over her shoulder at Jake.  She flashed him a guilty smile, fighting the sudden urge to laugh out loud.  He winked at her in return, smirking softly.   "And, uh, you know what?" Heather asked, turning to face Gail.  "I absolutely love the Rose Parade," she declared, grinning as she scratched her nose with her left hand.  "But we already ate," she continued, "Gramps fed us.  We had pancakes, actually.  The Green family recipe, with just a splash of orange juice in the batter."

Gail looked a little surprised by this information, but she covered quickly with a smile.  "I thought you weren't coming home until next week?"

"Yeah," the younger woman conceded with a shrug, "But I missed Jericho."  She waited for Jake just inside the living room, glancing at him sideways, their eyes locking, when he joined her.  The look they exchanged left Gail with little doubt about who specifically Heather had been missing in Jericho.  "So I came back early," she added a few seconds later, refocusing her attention on Jake's mother.  "My father and brother thought that was fair.  Christmas with my family in Buffalo, and New Year's in Jericho," Heather explained.  "Got back last night."  She folded her arms over her chest, taking special care to leave her left hand completely visible.  "Jake picked me up in Wichita."

"What time did you get back?" Gail asked, seating herself on the couch.  On the television, a float made the turn at Colorado Boulevard while the commentators gushed about the amount of chili powder that had been used to make Little Red Riding Hood's cape red.  Watching Jake and Heather - who for some reason made no move to sit down - Gail found the remote without looking and turned down the volume.  "You should have come to the First Night festivities.  It was a lovely evening.  Eric left about ten thirty to drive to Rogue River so he could be with April at midnight, and - oh my God!"  Suddenly, she leapt to her feet, shrieking excitedly.  Gail flew across the ten or so feet that separated her from the young couple and threw her arms around them both.  "Oh I'm so happy!" she yelled before giving up on words and settling for expressing her elation in another earsplitting scream.

"Good God, woman!" they all heard Johnston bellow from the kitchen. He came through the door into the adjoining dining room at a run.  "Somebody better actually be trying to kill you!"

Letting go of Jake, Gail grabbed a hold of Heather's hand and whipped around, beaming happily at her husband.  "They're getting married!" she squealed, holding her future daughter-in-law's hand up in proof as she dragged the younger woman toward the dining room.

"Uh, Ma, if you don't mind," Jake snorted, following behind the two women, "Try not to break my fiancée's arm, okay?"

A grin broke out on Johnston's face, replacing his concerned frown.  "Well, hot damn!  Congratulations!"

"Really, Jake," Gail scolded, trying to sound cross though she couldn't maintain it.  She dropped Heather's hands, clasping her own together over her chest.  "Oh, this is so wonderful!  I hope he did it right," she sighed.  "When did he propose?  Last night?  At midnight?" she guessed, her tone hopeful.

"No, not at midnight," Heather answered.  Jake stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.  Smiling at both his parents, she settled back into his embrace, twisting around to press a kiss to his cheek.  "It was this morning, but I promise, he absolutely did it right.  Though," she complained a beat later, wrinkling her nose, "He keeps asking me over and over, like he thinks I'm going to change my mind!"

"Uh-uh," he interjected, tightening his hold on her, "You don't get to change your mind now."

"Well then, all I can say is welcome to the family!" Gail decided, moving to hug them both once more. 

"I'll second that," Johnston smiled, offering Heather a quick, somewhat clumsy hug after his wife released her.   He caught her hand as she stepped back, admiring her ring.  "I always liked this one," he told her.  "My father gave it to my mother," he explained, clearing his throat.  "And I know that it was very special to her.  It's good to see it out in the world again, with you.  A bit loose though, isn't it?" Johnston asked, turning her hand over. 

"A little, but it's okay," she argued, "We'll get it resized, and I'll just be careful until we do."

"Jake, you need to take Heather over to Dalton and Sons in Fielding," Johnston advised.  "They actually made the ring, so they'll be able to take care of you.  And, until you do," he continued, glancing at his future daughter-in-law, "Just tie a piece of twine around the underside, and that should do it."

"Thanks, I'll do that," she nodded.  "That'll totally work," Heather smiled before asking eagerly, "So, do you know the story?  Where the ring came from, what it was for?  Jake didn't," she added, glancing back at her fiancé, "But we both thought it was so beautiful, especially with the star in the stone."

Johnston smiled.  "It's an impurity - a flaw - caused by a mineral getting into tiny inclusions in the stone.  Dad read about it in a one of his science magazines, and since my mother was such an astronomy buff he got it in his head to find one for her," he explained.  He still held Heather's hand in his own and, turning it over, tried to find the best view of the star sapphire. 

"That's so cool!" she exclaimed, her eyes on her hand.  "And that makes having this ring just that much more special to me."

"Well, it took him awhile," Johnston laughed.  "More than a year - maybe two - if I remember correctly.   The jeweler - Ed Dalton back then, but he's retired now.  Anyway, Dad had always gone to Ed, but Ed had never heard of a star sapphire, and he couldn't quite understand why anyone would want a polished but uncut sapphire with an imperfection.  Dad had to show him the magazine picture," he told them.   "And, if I remember right, Dad wanted a pendant for a necklace originally, though when they finally found the stone, Ed suggested that a ring would show it off better," Johnston said, squeezing Heather's fingers and then releasing her hand.  "Which is obviously the case," he smiled.  "He gave Mom the ring for her birthday when she turned fifty five?" he guessed, looking to his wife for confirmation.  "Fifty six?"

"Something like that," Gail agreed, sniffing the air.  Her eyes widened.  "Johnston, the pancakes!"

"Aw, damn," he muttered, turning on his heel and stomping into the kitchen.

Jake followed his father to the door and peeked through, shaking his head at the scene he saw there.  Baron, who had been observing the humans' antics with a puzzled expression, ran past his master into the kitchen, intrigued by the smells coming from the other room.    Returning to stand next to Heather, Jake found her hand, entwining their fingers.  "You know, that's pretty much how my pancakes always turn out," he joked, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

"Oh, no," Heather protested, pulling away from him.  "You mean I'm gonna have to supervise?  'Cause I was lookin' forward to sleeping in, and being served breakfast in bed."

"Good luck with that, sweetheart," her future mother-in-law chuckled.  "Jake can out sleep-in anyone." 

"So I've heard," Heather acknowledged, rolling her eyes softly.  "Well, I'm sure we can work something out," she declared, squeezing Jake's hand before letting it go.  "As long as I get pancakes."

Gail let out a happy sigh.  "I'm just so - this is the best news.  The perfect way to start the new year.  Now Jake, why don't you see if your father needs any help," she requested, moving to put her arm around Heather's shoulders.  "We're gonna sit down and watch the parade," she added, starting to lead Heather toward the couch.  "And give Baron a treat," Gail ordered.  "I bought a box of Milk-Bones for him.  They're on top of the fridge."

"Mom, we're not staying," Jake argued.  "We've gotta go call Heather's Dad, and tell April and -"

"April worked until six this morning.  We'll call a little later and invite them over for lunch," Gail proposed, ignoring him.  "Your grandfather, too.  Make it a real celebration.  And you two can call your father from here," she informed Heather.  "Now, I need another look at this ring," she smiled.  "I haven't seen it in awhile.  It's just splendid, isn't it?"

Rolling his eyes, Jake turned and headed for the kitchen, listening to the two women discuss the finer points of Heather's engagement ring.  Johnston didn't need any help disposing of the remnants of his first attempt at pancakes, though he did take the opportunity to offer Jake his congratulations as he tossed the crisply burned disks into garbage.  "Thanks," Jake shrugged, feeding Baron a treat.  "It's - she's - ya know," he finished inarticulately.

"I know," Johnston chuckled, shutting the under sink cabinet door.  He looked back over his shoulder at his son.  "I'm happy for you, Jake.  For both of you."

"Thanks," Jake repeated, enticing Baron to follow him back into the living room with another treat.  "Mom, I'm trading you," he announced, throwing the bright red dog biscuit into her lap and holding his hand out for Heather.  She accepted it, allowing him to pull her up as Baron, trading places with her, hopped up on the couch next to Gail.  "Stay with Grandma," Jake told the dog, his tone teasing.  "We're gonna go call Heather's Dad, okay?" he added, pressing a kiss to his fiancée's cheek and then offering his mother a smile.

Practically beaming at them, Gail nodded.  "You can use the den," she suggested, "For a little privacy."

"So we'll call, and I'll talk to him first, okay?" Heather said, watching Jake from the center of the room as he closed the door behind them.  "Just because, you know," she shrugged uncomfortably, "I think he's going to be surprised."  She allowed an anxious laugh, apologizing quickly.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know why I'm nervous all of a sudden - I just - I know he's going to be surprised and it may take him a minute.  So I think I better talk to him first." She made an apprehensive noise, catching his eye and offering up a wry smile.  "Okay?"

Jake crossed the few feet separating them and took her hand in his.  "Babe, it'll be okay," he tried to reassure her; though the anxious note in his tone betrayed his own sudden case of nerves.  "I mean, it's not like he's gonna say 'no', right?"

They both laughed uneasily at that, and then Heather leaned her forehead against his shoulder, shaking it negatively.  "No.  No he won't," she answered, her voice squeaking quietly.  "And even if he did," she sighed, lifting her head, "Which he wouldn't - it still wouldn't matter.  'Cause I am gonna marry you, Jake," she declared, taking a deep breath and thrusting her chin out defiantly.

"We'll make him understand," Jake corrected, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth.  "But I guess it makes sense for you to talk to him first," he agreed.  "C'mon."  Still holding onto her hand, he led Heather over to his father's desk, motioning for her to take the chair while he half sat, half leaned on the edge of the desk.  "'Kay, you're up," he prodded, pointing at the phone.

Heather looked around and then started to get back up.  "My cell phone's in my purse in the living room -"

"You can use the phone," Jake interrupted, smiling at her softly.  "My parents won't mind, I swear."  He reached for her hand again, playing for a moment with the ring he'd placed on her finger not even two hours before.  "C'mon," he repeated, lacing their fingers together and squeezing her hand.  With his other arm he reached over her, picked up the telephone, and placed it on the blotter directly in front of her.  "This has gotta be the last phone with a cord in the universe," he complained jokingly.  "Now dial.  It's gotta still be the same number some nun made you memorize in kindergarten."

"Well, yeah," she agreed, chuckling softly.  "It's been the same number since before I was born."  She offered him a genuine, if somewhat shaky smile, and reached for the handset.  "I - I love you," she told him, their eyes locking until the handset began blaring the off hook tone.  Heather looked away finally and, after pressing the 'hang up' button, dialed.

"I love you, too, babe," Jake murmured.

She waited for a few seconds while the call rang through, sitting up straighter in her chair - Jake assumed - when the phone was answered on the other end.  "Hey, Dad," she greeted brightly, "Uh, Happy New Year!"

"Heather, sweetheart?" Joe Lisinski inquired in reply.  He sounded surprised, and Heather didn't doubt that he was.  She'd called the previous evening to let him know she had landed safely and was on her way back to Jericho, and there was just no good reason for her to be calling home now, not even eighteen hours later.  Still, her father didn't sound suspicious.  "Happy New Year to you, too," he replied warmly.  "You're lucky to catch us," he continued, not pausing.  "Michael and I only stopped home for a minute between the game and brunch over at Andy's and Deb's."

"So who won?" she inquired, grimacing guiltily as she met Jake's eye.  'Sorry,' she mouthed.

Smiling softly, Jake shook his head at her.  'It's okay,' he mouthed in return.

"Jess got the winning goal, believe it or not," Joe told her, chuckling.  "Snuck past everybody at the end and scored.  Five to four, so no one was doin' a very good job of defending anything, but Tommy and Adam finally had a winning team," he added, naming her brother and a cousin.  It had been awhile since that particular pair of co-captains had achieved victory.  "I don't think Andy and John are quite over the shock yet."  Finally he paused, likely waiting for a response, but there wasn't one.  "So what's up?  Nothing wrong, I hope," he sighed.  "But you didn't call to ask about the hockey game, I'm sure."

"No.  No, I didn't," she admitted, smiling at Jake.  "And nothing's wrong.  Actually, I called because I have some really great news."  Heather took a deep breath and then completed in a rush, "Jake asked me to marry him and I said 'yes', so I'm getting married."  There was dead silence on the other end of the line.  She waited for him to say something.  Anything.  "So, uh, Jake and I, we're getting married," Heather repeated, twisting the phone's cord tightly around her hand.

"Oh, I see," Joe answered after what to Heather felt like an eternity, but was really only a few seconds.  "Well, that's - I'm happy for you, sweetheart, if this is what you want.  But I'm surprised, too," he confessed, clearing his throat.  "I mean, you haven't known one another all that long and marriage is not something to rush into on a whim."

Heather felt her throat tighten painfully. She'd expected her father to be surprised at her news, but she hadn't anticipated a lecture, or his ... almost disappointment, she decided.  "It's not - that's not what we're doing," she finally managed to get out.  "I love Jake," she continued, grateful for the comforting pressure of his hand on hers at that moment. 

"I love you, too," he murmured.  It was too quiet for the phone to pick up and for her father to hear, but she was thankful for Jake's words and the boost of courage they gave her in that instant.  She was even more grateful when he forced her to get up, seated himself in her place, and pulled her down on his lap, wrapping his arms around her.  He kissed her free earlobe, whispering, "Let me talk to him."

"And, he loves me," she continued, shaking her head distractedly at Jake though she kept a tight hold on his hand.  "We know that it probably seems sudden -"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Joe interrupted.  "I don't want to - to rain on your parade, but I also don't want to see you get hurt. And while I'm sure that you do love one another, I have to wonder if you're really both ready to commit your lives to one another?" he questioned before repeating, "This isn't something to rush into."

"We're not rushing," Heather protested.  "Okay, I get that maybe from the outside, it looks like we're rushing," she conceded a moment later, "But I swear to you, it's not like that."

"Heather, I don't know what it looks like from the outside or the inside," her father argued.  "I haven't met him.  None of us have."

"Dad -"

But whatever else she was going to say was lost in a yip of surprise when Jake pried the phone from her hand.  "Sorry, babe," he apologized quietly, lifting the handset to his ear.  "Mr. Lisinski," he began, "I love your daughter.  There isn't anyone in this world who's more important to me, and I want to marry her because I can't imagine my life without her.  I - I hope you can understand - can accept that."

"Jake," Joe grunted after a beat, "Since it seems you're marrying my daughter, you might as well call me Joe."

"Okay, Joe," he answered, letting out a relieved breath, "Thanks."  Fidgeting nervously, Heather got up, standing in the narrow space between Jake and the desk, her knee pressed against his.  She offered him a hopeful smile, and he nodded, grinning gently.  "And I understand - we understand - where you're coming from," he offered, catching Heather's hand and running his finger over her ring.

"That so?" his future father-in-law grumbled.  "How 'bout you talk to me in twenty five years or so when your daughter tells you she's marrying someone you've never met."

Dropping Heather's hand, Jake straightened in his chair, frowning.  "What?" she asked, her expression mirroring his.

"Sir, to be honest, I don't know that I'd take that news as well as you have," Jake started, earning an amused snort from Heather's father.  "But I'm pretty sure Heather would make me meet the guy," he added, the implication that any daughter of Jake's would be Heather's daughter as well hanging between them.  "So, I think we need to come out there," Jake declared, squeezing Heather's fingers.  He could understand Joe's concern, and luckily, he could do something about it.  "Day after tomorrow too soon?"

"Day after tomorrow, huh?" Heather's father chuckled softly.  "Well, I can respect your...I'm not quite sure what it is," he admitted, still laughing.  "Your solution, I guess.  Because I do want to meet you, Jake, see you with my daughter," Joe informed the younger man.  He took a breath and then asked, "So, you're just gonna fly on out?  Heather's brothers have all mentioned - repeatedly - that you're a pilot."

"Well, we'll fly commercial," Jake countered, meeting Heather's gaze for a second before he glanced right at his father's computer on the credenza.  He jiggled the mouse with his free hand, 'waking' the monitor.  "I don't know that the first time I fly to New York should be January.  Who wants to deal with the weather?" he asked rhetorically, adding, "Besides, school starts up again next week, and Heather needs to be back on time."

"I love my daughter, Jake," Joe sighed.  "And you may think I'm being overprotective.  I probably am," he admitted, "But she's the only one I've got, and I just want to be sure that she marries someone worthy of her.  Maybe you are.  But I don't know that, because I don't know you."

Jake let go of the mouse, swiveling the chair so that he faced Heather again.  "Well, I don't know that I'm completely worthy of her," he said, taking Heather's hand into his own.  "But I want to be.  I love her," he added, smiling at his fiancée, "And I'm tryin' to be good enough for her."

"I appreciate that, Jake, I really do," Joe replied.  "And I look forward to meeting you.  May I speak with my daughter again?"

"Sure, of course," he answered, squeezing Heather's fingers.  "I'm gonna look for plane tickets right now, so we'll see you on Thursday.  It'll be good to meet you, too.  Here she is," Jake finished, holding the phone out to Heather. 

"We're really just gonna turn around and fly to Buffalo?" she asked, her expression decidedly bemused.

"Well, I've gotta meet your Dad and all your brothers," Jake shrugged.  "If we come back on Monday, that work for you?"

Holding the handset against her shoulder, Heather nodded, smiling at him.  "That's when I was supposed to come back anyway.  The ten AM flight.  I'll go get my credit -"

"Nope," Jake shook his head, "Got it covered.  Your Dad wants to talk to you," he reminded, pointing at the phone.

"Okay," she sighed, lifting the receiver to her ear as Jake rotated around toward the computer.  "Hey, Dad," Heather greeted, letting her hand rest on her fiancé's shoulder.  Jake, who already had one of the travel sites up and searching for flights, glanced back and offered her a gentle grin that she couldn't help but return.

"I am happy for you, sweetheart," Joe murmured. His tone was accepting, if not overjoyed, and Heather decided that it was enough for now.  "I love you, and I just want the best for you."

"And, I have that," she returned, her hand moving to the back of Jake's neck.  She ran her fingers through his hair.  "We have that."  She fought the urge to ask for her father's blessing, instead telling him, "I love you.  Give everyone my love.  At brunch.  And, you can tell them."

"We get into Buffalo at four on Thursday," Jake told her quietly, clicking something on the computer screen. 

Heather repeated this information to her father.  "I love you, Dad.  We'll see you then."  Hanging up, she heaved a deep sigh, offering her fiancé a wobbly smile.  "I love you, too.  Thank you."

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

Tuesday, December 26, three months after the bombs

It was dark now and had started to snow.  Stanley was still trying to gather weeds to pack around Jake, if for no other reason than that he'd convinced himself that he was warmer when he was hopping around.  The movement, having something to do, it kept his mind off Mimi too - mostly.  Pausing in front of the truck, he glanced over at his friend.  Jake wasn't moving, just lying there, eyes closed, not moving. 

"Jake!" he called out, lurching around the trucks fender.  "Jake, c'mon, man!" Stanley shouted as he dropped with a thud onto the frozen ground next to his friend.  "Can't fall asleep," he murmured urgently, shaking Jake's shoulder.  "You gotta stay awake.  Come on!  Stop shivering.  C'mon, you gotta talk to me.  C'mon."  The words were spilled out of him, his desperation growing as the other man didn't respond.   Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Stanley forced Jake to sit up.  "Come on, buddy.  You gotta talk to me.  Talk to me, buddy.  C'mon!"

"I'm sorry," Jake mumbled groggily, his head lolling to one side.  "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Stanley exhaled in relief.  "'Bout what?" he asked, rubbing his hands up and down Jake's arms, trying to warm him up.

"Six years ago..." he whispered, closing his eyes.  "Sorry for - for lying about everything.  Why I came home.  Jonah.  Everything."

"Hey, it's okay," Stanley insisted, pulling Jake back against his chest.  Jake's head fell against his shoulder as Stanley continued to roughly massage his limbs, hoping to restore some of his circulation.  He couldn't believe that Jake was apologizing for all of that, now.  They'd made their peace years before, he thought, and it worried him that his friend would bring it up, would try to make amends for something he'd considered dead and buried.  Stanley swallowed hard.  "It doesn't matter," he told Jake, his voice suddenly brusque.  He sure as hell wasn't letting his friend give up and die, he decided, tightening his grip.  "Doesn't matter."

"I didn't ... I didn't want to."  Jake labored to get each word out.  "I - but I had to.  It was ...."

"I know," Stanley interrupted, meeting his friend's gaze for a second before Jake, blinking away the snow, closed his eyes.  "Listen," he ordered, pinching Jake just hard enough to get him to open his eyes.  "I want you to forget about it," he insisted, "Okay?"

"We never got - got to go backpacking..." Jake slurred, his head bobbing as he fought to hold it up.  "In - in Costa Rica."

Backpacking in Costa Rica?  For a moment Stanley didn't know what Jake was talking about, but then he remembered a plan from the summer after high school graduation, from before his parents had died and he'd found himself the guardian of a four year old girl.  "Well, you got married," Stanley reminded, forcing a smile.  "But, hey!  You know what?  We're still going to get to go backpacking in Costa Rica," he decided, shaking Jake to get his waning attention once more.  "Okay?  We're gonna learn how to surf.  We're gonna sleep on the beach.  Well, maybe not," he chuckled anxiously.  "Probably have to bring Mimi and Heather, right?  After all this today, I think Mimi'd make us stay in a hotel.  With room service," he snorted.  "She likes places with room service.  And cabana boys," he added, making a face.  "Plus, you guys'll have the baby along, I bet.  Can't go 'til after the baby's born, I guess.  But it'll - it'll still be good," Stanley declared, his nod determined.  "Hey, you can fly us there yourself, huh?" he asked, desperate to keep the conversation going, to keep Jake focused.  He turned his head, peering closely at his friend and flashed a quick grin, relieved to see what he hoped was interest in the other man's expression.  He needed to get him talking though.  "So tell me something good, man.  Hey, have you guys picked a name for the baby?"

"EJ," Jake mumbled, his eyes slipping shut.

"EJ?  After your Grandpa?" Stanley guessed, shaking his friend.  "That's great.  He'd really love that," he smiled.  Jake wasn't responding though, and so he tried pinching his arm again.  "Hey, hey!  Wake up," he commanded.  "It's been a long time since you and I talked.  Since before you went to Iraq, huh?  So tell me - hey!"  Stanley jostled Jake again.  "Tell me about Iraq.  What's it like?"

"Hot."

 "Hot," Stanley repeated, trying to contain his frustration.  "All right, it was hot.  And you were drivin' trucks, bustin' drug dealers, that sort of thing?  What else?"

"Under...undercover," Jake grunted.  "Ravenwood."

"Huh," Stanley muttered, not sure how to respond.  "You were one - one of those guys, huh?"

"There was ... was this girl," Jake rasped out.

"A girl?" Stanley repeated, confused.  Although grateful to be getting more than one word answers from Jake, he worried about the other man's incoherent stream of thought.

Jake continued, shivering and seemingly delirious.  "I had to.... Couldn't - couldn't blow cover." 

Blow cover?  Had to?  The words clenched at Stanley's stomach and he winced, glad for the moment that Jake couldn't keep his eyes open and therefore couldn't see his reaction.  All he could think....  But Jake would never cheat on Heather, Stanley was sure.  He loved her too much.  He wouldn't cheat.

"She's dead," Jake confessed then, twisting his head around so that he met his friend's eye.  "She's dead," he repeated, blinking hard, his gaze haunted.  "And it was my fault."

This announcement only confused Stanley more, but he couldn't think - didn't have time to think - about how to respond.  Jake seemed to slump against him, whatever strength he'd been able to draw on in order to get out his confession, gone.  "It's not your fault," he argued, still completely puzzled about what had happened.  But what did that matter now?  The girl?  It didn't matter.  What mattered was keeping Jake awake - alive - until Mimi brought back help, Stanley told himself.  Nothing else mattered.  "It's not - it'll be okay."

"Let me lay down," Jake begged, trying to pull away.

Stanley though, maintained his grip on him.  "Jake, no," he protested.

"Let me lay down," his friend insisted, frustration momentarily strengthening his tone.  "C'mon."

"It wasn't your fault," Stanley argued, fighting to keep Jake sitting up.  He wasn't sure exactly what he was absolving Jake of, but he'd do that and more to keep his friend fighting.  He pulled Jake back against his chest, hugging him tightly, trying to keep him warm.  Stanley was shaking now, too.  And he was cold.  Freezing.  His head hurt and his stomach was empty.  But he had plenty to live for, and so did Jake.  He just needed to be reminded.    "Come on, stay with me.  You gotta stay with me," he pled.  "For Heather and the baby."

"Love her," Jake slurred.  "Tell her I...."

"No," Stanley protested.   "Come on!  Come on, Jake.  You'll tell her yourself.  So stay with me, Jake.  Come on, man.  Come on.  Stay with me."

* * * * *

"Here!" Mimi declared, leaning over the back of the front seat to point the turn out to Johnston Green.  "You need to go right ... here.  Then it just - it's just up the road."  Stanley would have known how far she supposed.  A quarter mile, maybe half, but she was just grateful that she remembered how to get back, that the Greens had come along, and that Johnston didn't give a damn about his gas mileage.  In the truck they'd covered in not quite ten minutes the distance it had taken her over two hours to run and walk.  Letting herself sit back, Mimi let out a noise that could have been a sigh.  She wasn't relieved, not with Stanley and Jake still out there, but at least she'd done what she'd set out to do.  She'd found help and as soon as the other two were safe, then she could be relieved.  "It's right up here," she murmured.

Johnston glanced over at his wife and then at Mimi in the rearview mirror.  "There's - there should be a sleeping bag behind the seat," he told them.  The sleeping bag wasn't cold weather rated - it was more the kind of bag you sent an eight year old to summer camp with - but it was better than nothing.  Gail was already turned around and leaning over the seat looking for it.  Silently, Mimi handed it over and Gail went to work, zipping it open.  "Here we are," Johnston announced a few seconds later, the headlights catching the overturned wreck at the side of the road.  "Here we are," he exhaled, steering the truck off the highway.

"Jake!" Gail shouted as she tumbled out of the cab, the sleeping bag open and gathered in her arms.  She ran to her son, calling to him.  "Jake!  It's Mom and Dad, honey."  She threw the sleeping bag over him, frowning with concern at Stanley, who was holding Jake upright in a tight bear hug.  "Stanley, are you all right, sweetheart?" Gail questioned.

"You need to get in the truck and get warm," Johnston told Stanley, forcing him to loosen his grip on Jake.

Stanley was groggy and disoriented.  "Where's - where's Mimi?" he croaked out.

"I'm right here," she told him.

Johnston helped Stanley to his feet, the younger man stumbling and grimacing when he forgot and put weight on his bad ankle.  "She's right here," he assured, wrapping his arm around Stanley to hold him up.

Mimi moved to help.  "Stanley, I'm right here."

"Wake up, wake up!" Gail yelled at Jake, who, without Stanley's support, had fallen flat on his back.  She knelt over him, his face cupped in her hands, forcing him to look at her.  What she saw in his eyes scared her.  He'd given up.  "Wake up, Jake!" she demanded, "Wake up!  We're going to help you, honey," she continued, searching his face for some sign that her words were registering.  "We saw the storm comin', and we started to get worried when you hadn't come back."

"Sweetheart," Johnston prompted, his tone urgent.  He squatted behind her and touched her back, handing over a rolled up coat for Jake to use as a pillow.  He'd started to worry when the bad weather had set in, but it hadn't been until Gail had suggested that they go looking for Jake, Stanley and Mimi that he'd actually thought to act on his concern.  They had been out the door as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and Johnston knew now that he'd be forever grateful to his wife for spurring him to action.  He and Eric had managed two days out, but that had been in good - if cold - weather and with proper equipment.  She had likely saved Jake's life, though they were nowhere near out of the woods yet. 

"Okay," Gail murmured distractedly, looking back at him for a split second as she accepted the garment.

"Honey, we're not gonna be able to get this truck off him," he informed her, trying to keep his voice even.  "I need you to take these guys," Johnston added, cocking his head toward the truck's cab where Mimi and Stanley were already waiting inside, "Back to town and get me some help out here," he instructed.  "You signal when you're coming back," he said, helping her stand, "So I'll know it's you."

"I'll flash the lights," she promised over her shoulder, already moving toward his truck.

"All right," he agreed.  "Go, go!" Johnston urged as he turned his attention to his son.  "Jake, Jake, look at me here," he demanded, reaching for the younger man's hand.  He gripped it tightly, squeezing. "You're gonna make it, son," Johnston assured.  "I know you.  I know what you're made of.  And, you've got a lot to live for.  They need you.  Hell, we all need you, 'kay?   You're gonna be all right.  "You're gonna make it," he repeated, leaning over Jake so he could look him in the eye.  "Stay with me," he ordered, squeezing his son's hand again.

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 13D.


For the record:

The Rose Parade ( http://www.tournamentofroses.com/ ) is a favorite in my house, and they really do use chili powder on floats.  If it qualifies as a vegetable per Gilbert and Sullivan's definition, it can be on a float.  The marching bands and equestrian units are fun, too.


If you're interested in what Heather's ring looks like, I would say something like this.... http://www.jewelryexpert.com/catalog/Star-Sapphire-Diamond-Ring-ll.htm ... or maybe this.... http://www.thenaturalsapphirecompany.com/Sapphires/Sapphire-Jewelry/Sapphire-Rings/Jewelry=J291