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Different Circumstances: Part 14B of ? by Marzee Doats
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Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs
"We tried to institute rationing early on," Johnston explained, allowing a heavy sigh as he gestured at the chalkboard on which the statuses of the town's provisions - food, livestock, fuel, and medical supplies - were recorded in nitty-gritty detail. Wanting to give Gunnery Sergeant Hill a better picture of how things stood in Jericho, they had detoured to the town council chambers rather than showing him directly to the sheriff's office. Johnston, fiddling absently with his scarf, caught the Marine's eye, the two of them exchanging grim smiles. "But it took some time for people to accept that we were really on our own."
"And now you go and try to undo all that," Gray complained, glaring sideways at his predecessor. "Gettin' the council to come up with all these exemptions so Stanley Richmond and all the other farmers can hold the town hostage -"
"You've gotta give some incentive or what reason is there for anyone to do anything but wait around for a handout?" Johnston demanded, allowing some of the aggravation he'd been biting back since the election to seep into his tone. He'd accepted the result of course, but that didn't keep what happened to Jericho and her people from weighing on him any less. "Now, Stanley doesn't have to give you anything, but he's a decent guy - like all the farmers 'round here - so he's gonna give what he can."
"Yeah," Gray snorted derisively, "And I shoulda remembered that the Greens and the Richmonds always stick together. You don't have anything to worry about, Johnston, Stanley'll take care of your family. But I've got the whole town -"
"Which is why we need to come to a fair and equitable arrangement with the farmers!" The words burst out of Johnston almost as a shout. "What're you gonna do Gray?" he continued, "Take it by force? Declare eminent domain on a farm that's nearly ten miles outside the town limits and therefore your jurisdiction?" Closing his eyes for a moment, Johnston shook his head. "George Richmond was as good a friend as I've ever had, and I'm gonna do right by his kids."
Johnston Green had vowed as much, thirteen years before as he'd stood in the Fillmore County morgue the morning after the accident which had taken George and Alice Richmonds' lives. Henry Dawes, Jericho's longtime sheriff had come pounding on the Greens' front door just before midnight the previous evening, bringing the news of the discovery by Bruce Salem, rookie deputy, of the Richmonds' truck wrecked and upside down in a ditch out on Route Forty, headed into town. George and Alice were dead, Sheriff Dawes had reported, fighting to catch his breath, and the baby had been transported to the med center, though Doc Petersen had said she needed to go to Children's Hospital in Denver as soon as the late spring blizzard that was blowing through - and had likely contributed to the accident that had taken her parents' lives - let up enough to allow the medivac helicopter to fly in. Gail had protested this, reminding the two men that Stanley was at KU in Lawrence and the University Hospital was just forty miles away in Kansas City, and didn't it make better sense to send her there? But the storm would still be raging to the east for hours and time was of the essence, the sheriff had reminded.
Gail and Johnston had accompanied Sheriff Dawes out to the Bryant farm to inform Kathy Bryant of her sister's and brother-in-law's deaths. Kathy, who had been widowed the previous summer, had become nearly hysterical, sobbing out that she'd spoken to Alice on the phone just a few hours before, and that her sister had been worried over the slight fever and cough that Bonnie had come down with. She'd teased Alice, Kathy had confessed, telling her she was more nervous this time around than she'd been the first, and had advised that she give Bonnie some Tylenol and bring her to the clinic in the morning. But George and Alice, despite the snowstorm, had opted to take their little girl in right away.
The four had arrived at the med center in time to see Bonnie loaded onto the chopper for Denver. Johnston had called his father then, and EJ had met them out at the airfield at dawn. Gail had never liked flying in her father-in-law's small planes, but Kathy Bryant could count on one hand the number of times she'd been in an airplane of any size, and she'd been petrified, so Gail had pasted on an encouraging smile and, wrapping a bracing arm around the other woman, had gently forced her to climb into the small cabin. Johnston and Sheriff Dawes had watched from the sheriff department's incident response vehicle, a souped up Expedition, as EJ had taxied down the short runway, taking off toward the west, on what had turned out to be nearly his last flight as a private pilot.
The usual half hour drive from Jericho to Fielding, the county seat, had taken nearly two hours. The plows had just been starting to get out on the roads when Johnston and Henry Dawes had arrived, mere minutes behind the ambulance that had brought the Richmonds' bodies over from the med center. Henry had argued against doing this, had argued that they should get on the road - as foolhardy as that was with the blizzard a few hours ahead of them - if they wanted to make Lawrence by nightfall. It was a four or five hour drive normally, and the storm would double that, easily. But Johnston had insisted. He could spare Stanley having to identify his parents' bodies at least.
When Johnston had first mentioned his intention to drive to Lawrence and deliver the news of the accident and his parents' deaths to Stanley in person, Henry Dawes had let out a strangled snort and called him crazy, but in the end he'd agreed to the trip. Ten hours later, the kid on duty at Stanley's dorm had directed them to the dining hall where they'd found the young man, hanging out with a few friends from the football team and a couple of admiring, giggly girls. Immediately, Stanley had known something was wrong, simply from their presence, though their tired, drawn expressions had betrayed them as well. "God, no, Mayor, no," he'd gasped out, his knees buckling as Johnston had croaked out his news. Afraid that Stanley was going to collapse, Johnston had pulled him roughly into an embrace, murmuring that it would be okay even though he had no real reason to believe that it would.
Sheriff Dawes had driven them to the Kansas City Airport, just over the border in Missouri, where Stanley and Johnston had caught the first and last flight of the day leaving for Denver. They'd arrived at the hospital after visiting hours, but EJ, Gail and Kathy were all still there, huddled together in the waiting room although EJ had checked them all into a motel down the street earlier in the day. Taking one look at Stanley, the head nurse in the PICU had opted to bend the rules, letting him check in on Bonnie, just out of her second surgery and still unconscious. Later, in a daze, Stanley had walked to the car between his aunt and Gail, tears rolling silent and unheeded down his cheeks. Then, at the motel, he'd refused to even lie down, eventually falling asleep against his will, still sitting up in a chair at the table where EJ had joined him, talking him into playing 'Go Fish', though Stanley's mind hadn't really been on the game, and he'd kept asking for threes long after he'd laid both pairs down.
Johnston had stayed four days in Denver before he'd had to return to Jericho. By the time he'd flown home with his father, Stanley had announced his intention to quit school, run the family farm, and look after Bonnie. His aunt had put up a token argument but it had been obvious to them all that she'd been relieved that she would not be taking on a three year old when her own children were grown and her first grandchild was due in July. The Greens' had argued more, Gail especially, not wanting to see Stanley give up on his education, but in the end it was obvious that this was the best - though nowhere near perfect - solution. They hadn't yet known whether or not Bonnie's hearing loss would be permanent, but either way they'd known that she would have a long recovery ahead of her, and someone had needed to take charge of the farm, the legacy of four generations of Richmonds.
"Stanley's great, great grandfather was one of the first homesteaders in these parts," Johnston informed Gray, shaking his head to clear it of the thirteen year old memory. "He's a part of this community, same as all the other farmers, same as you and me. You gotta work with them, not try to cut 'em out."
"Looks like you did a better job than most towns I've seen," Sergeant Hill commented then. He'd been studying the two older men with undisguised interest, listening carefully as they'd argued, and now he glanced at Johnston, catching his eye once more. "The town's lucky to have a military man in charge," he declared, chin jutting out.
Johnston frowned slightly, raising one eyebrow, surprised that the Sergeant would so blatantly throw fuel on the fire of Gray's anger. "Well, I guess we've made out all right," he shrugged, hoping it would be enough to diffuse things.
"With the salt from my mine we've been able to do some trading with nearby towns," Gray interjected, taking a step toward Sergeant Hill.
"Your town seems to have been blessed," the Marine acknowledged, finally meeting Gray's gaze. "That said," he continued, coughing softly, "Uh, I can't say you'll be a priority on the list."
"Um, uh, wait a minute," Gray demanded, his forehead wrinkling with consternation. "What list?"
"We've got detachments all over Kansas," Sergeant Hill explained. "Assessing each town's need." He paused for a second. "And relief ...relief is given on an 'as needed' basis."
His mouth hanging open, Gray stared at the Marine, dismay obvious in his expression. "Okay, wait a second," he demanded, his voice squeaking, "You're saying - you're saying that because we planned better than others, it'll count against us?"
Johnston, who'd busied himself with poking at the fire, trying to coax a little more heat out of the embers before adding another log, turned around to stare at the Gunnery Sergeant. For once, he was in complete agreement with Gray, though he couldn't help but see some irony in Gray claiming that 'we' - Johnston assumed that included him - had planned well, given that Gray had run for mayor on the platform that he was incompetent. Still, what did he think they could do? Sergeant Hill was only doing his duty. "Now Gray," Johnston exhaled, taking a step toward the other two, "We can make out for a little while longer if we have to." He really wasn't sure how, but glancing at the chalkboard, he got the sinking feeling that they would all be spending a lot more time in this room.
"Yeah, that's easy for you to say," Gray griped, glaring at him, "You're not being held accountable." Fighting the urge to respond, Johnston was forced to bite his tongue.
"Well, why don't you give me that 'wants' list, and, uh, I'll see what I can do," Sergeant Hill offered.
"What don't we need?" Gray returned, grumbling. "See that board?" he asked, gesturing wildly. "And, you know, we've taken in more'na hundred refugees. We need something - compensation - for that."
"Just to start, how 'bout gasoline, diesel, kerosene, batteries," Johnston threw out. "Heavy clothing, shoes and boots, seeds, fertilizer, antibiotics, and soap. The staples - flour, sugar, yeast, rice." He stopped, frowning. He was losing the Gunnery Sergeant; that much was obvious from the sour look on the other man's face. And, he should have expected it, too, Johnston realized. He'd probably gotten a list like that in every town he'd been in since the bombs, and he'd told them that Jericho was luckier than most. They needed to give Sergeant Hill a reason to advocate on their behalf or at least turn their list in to whomever was in charge these days. It was basic politics, and Johnston knew that. He knew how to play politics after all, and he needed to make a personal connection here.
"Well, that's just off the top of my head," he chuckled uneasily. "Course, my family's list would be a little different. Coffee, peanut butter, toilet paper," Johnston listed, smiling. "And diapers. Plenty of diapers. Got two grandbabies on the way."
"Congratulations!" Sergeant Hill declared after a moment's pause, grinning in return. "Gonna need those diapers. So make sure you put 'em on the list when you write it up and get it to me," he instructed, taking a half step in the direction of the door.
"We - we will," Johnston agreed, letting out a relieved breath.
"Peanut butter," the Marine laughed, "Now I gotta wonder, can you grow peanuts in Kansas? Better ask for peanut seeds, just in case."
"Uh, too cold this far north," Johnston answered. "But - you'll have to excuse me for a minute," he requested a beat later, spotting a familiar charcoal gray jacket and mop of too long hair. Without waiting for their response - Gray was just standing there make fish faces, anyway - he hurried out of the council room after his son. "Jake, wait up."
"Uh, Dad," the younger man greeted, stopping in the middle of the corridor, his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest. The female Marine stood next to him, her expression politely interested. "You need something?" Jake inquired reluctantly, looking down at his shoes. "Because we're on the hunt for a transistor. Gonna check that old radio in the sheriff's station."
"Just wanted to make sure you're okay, Son," Johnston returned. "That's all." The three of them stared at one another for a few, uncomfortable seconds, and then clearing his throat, Johnston took a step back. "Well, I'll see you at home. You take it easy."
"Yeah, thanks," Jake muttered over his shoulder as he shepherded the young woman toward the suite of sheriff's department offices. "Sorry about that," he apologized, holding the door open for her. He looked back, glad to see that his father was out of earshot and headed in the other direction. "Dad - that was worse than my Mom, actually. Or -"
"Don't worry about it," Maggie answered, "It was fine. And you shouldn't mind," she told him, a shy smile lighting her face. "It's, uh, nice to have someone worrying about you."
"That's one way to look at it, I guess," Jake snorted. "Okay," he said, motioning for her to precede him, "This way."
Ten minutes later, they were set up in the border patrol office he shared with Mrs. Crenshaw, although - rather unusually - she hadn't come in yet. Jake supposed she'd gotten caught up in the celebration outside. Bill had scrounged a couple of tool kits - one with a soldering iron that still worked - from the storeroom and had brought them into the office, blushing and stammering as he'd presented them to Maggie, much to her amusement. "Well, thank you, Deputy," she's acknowledged as he'd nearly tripped over a chair, backing out of the room. Now the tool kits and the two radios were laid out on the desk in front of her, and she held the blown transistor in one hand as she examined the insides of the ham radio, looking for a match.
"Try that one," Jake suggested, pointing to the part in one corner which she had so far ignored.
"Perfect," she agreed, carefully prying the transistor out of its placement. She looked up and back at Jake, who was hovering behind her, their eyes locking for a moment. "So, you're really not gonna tell me what happened," Maggie accused lightly.
Jake shrugged. The accident was just about the last thing he wanted to talk about with anyone. His father had tried, and Heather, but he'd managed to put them off by claiming fatigue. "Doc says frostbite," he conceded finally, hoping she'd take the hint and leave well enough alone.
"Uh huh," Maggie acknowledged, nodding to herself as she compared the two transistors and confirmed that the new one was close enough to the right size to work. She glanced at him again, teasing, "Doctor also say who kicked your ass?"
His smile faltering, Jake tensed. "Someone ran us off the road," he muttered, arms once more crossed over his chest. "Most of it's a blur," he claimed, refusing to meet her eye. "Just, uh, tried to stay alive, you know?"
"I do," she agreed, all traces of humor disappearing from her expression and voice. She turned back to the task at hand, concentrating on the old soldering iron and the transistor she was trying to fix in place.
He watched her work for a long moment, the silence hanging heavily in the small room. He was usually good at this: making small talk, putting people at ease. His good cop was actually pretty damn good. "So, the Marines, huh?" he inquired, throwing her an encouraging smile.
She glanced at him, clearly surprised by the overture. "Yeah."
"So, is it everything you hoped for?" Jake asked, truly curious. He'd been around plenty of military personnel during his months in Afghanistan and Iraq and he liked to think he had some understanding of what their lives had been like, what had made them tick. But the world had changed and he wondered how that affected someone like Marine Corporal Mullin.
"There are moments," she shrugged, giving perhaps more of her attention to the soldering iron than was absolutely necessary. "But when I signed up, I never thought I'd be fighting Americans," Maggie admitted. Letting out a shallow breath, she set the tool down and examined her work, murmuring, "Good people forced to do bad things."
Swallowing hard, Jake nodded. That was one he knew, for sure. "It's - it's gotta be rough," he coughed. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your problem," Maggie denied, risking a glance in his direction. He stared at her in return, brow furrowed. "What?" she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
"Just wondering why someone like you would join the Marines," Jake admitted. He'd seen what it was like for female soldiers over in Iraq, all they had to put up with, and more than once he'd wondered why they did.
"Someone like me?" she questioned, "You mean a girl?" Embarrassment - at being called out, she guessed - flitted across his face. "Well, I had an office job until a few years ago," Maggie explained as she looked over her repair job. "But I got bored. I wanted to see the world," she declared, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping her.
"And have you?"
"I've seen Omaha," she answered with an obviously forced indifference. This time, he'd hit a nerve. "You?" she demanded, a challenging glint in her eye.
"What? Seen the world?" Jake replied. He stared past her, memories of three roads swirling together in his mind's eye. The first was hot and sun-baked. Iraq. Around him people were shouting and Freddie was forcing him to step over her body and climb back into the cab of his truck, his tone urgent as he told Jake that they had to get out of there now. The second was absolutely familiar and yet he'd been just as disoriented, just as gripped with fear and panic, as he'd tried to hurry along, despite his busted ankle, after the two distraught children. And the third was cold and dark, the stuff of nightmares, threatening to swallow him whole. The third road was where he'd assumed he would die, had waited to die, trapped under the heavy metal frame of the Richmonds' truck while the earth stole his body heat, freezing him from the outside, in.
"Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head to clear it. "Yeah, I just - just saw all the wrong places."
Maggie sat back in her chair, throwing Jake a sideways glance. Their eyes met and she offered him a smile, leaning toward him and joking, "Man, you have got this brooding bad boy thing down to an art."
"At this moment, think I'd have to agree with you on that." Jake whipped around at the sound of his wife's voice, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end when he encountered her deceptively calm expression. She was standing in the doorway along with Michael, her hands rested on her belly, over their baby - a perfectly normal pose except that they were clenched into fists. "Your Dad thought maybe you could use my help with the radio," Heather informed him, her carefully modulated - almost icy - tone causing his stomach to begin churning. "But I guess not," she completed, turning on her heel and fleeing.
It took Jake two seconds to react. "Dammit, Heather," he ground out, pushing past Michael - who flashed what he took to be a sympathetic smile - and taking off after her.
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Thursday, January 3, five years before the bombs
"Uh, Mikey, you're gonna miss the turn off," Heather warned, leaning forward between the seats. "And ...you just did," she muttered a few seconds later, looking back out the rear window.
"Yeah, well, I'm under orders to take you guys by the rink first," he admitted, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Eyes glued to the road in front of him, Michael continued, explaining, "Jess threatened my continued occasional employment if I didn't. I pointed out that firing me would be blatantly illegal, but she didn't seem to care. Plus, it's Cub Club practice this afternoon, so -"
Heather groaned. "Deb and Mandy and the kids will be there. I'm sorry," she apologized, touching Jake's shoulder.
"Babe, I'm supposed to be meeting your family," he reminded, "It's why we're here."
"And, who do you want your first run to be on?" Michael added, finally glancing toward her. "Deb and Mandy and maybe Kerry," he admitted, "All who've already decided that Jake's great. Or do you wanna start with Andy, Tommy and John?"
"Right," she acknowledged with a sigh, sitting back and slumping a little in her seat.
Not two minutes later, Michael turned into the parking lot for a squat, windowless concrete building, which had a red sign, unlit, over the entrance that proclaimed 'ICE RINK'. The lot was only about a third full, mostly minivans and SUVs though there were a few smaller cars here and there. "Cub Club is a five and under training league," Michael explained, parking his car toward the far end of the building, next to an impressively high mound of snow that had been ploughed out of the way. "Hence all the mom mobiles," he added, pulling his key from the ignition.
"Baby hockey players, huh?" Jake asked, moving quickly to open Heather's door for her.
"Gotta get 'em up on skates," Michael replied, observing how Jake held onto Heather's hand, even after he'd pulled her clear of the car door and shoved it closed. "But being so close to the ground, doesn't hurt so much to fall, they usually get it pretty fast," he continued, falling into step beside his sister and her fiancé.
"The fearlessness method," Jake chuckled, stroking the back of Heather's hand with his thumb. "How I learned to ride a horse -"
"Of course," Michael interjected, darting forward to grab the door.
"And how to swim," Jake snorted as he and Heather stepped into the building, Michael right behind them.
Heather stopped right inside the door and, out of habit, stomped her feet to clean her shoes of sand and snow, though there wasn't much on them as the parking lot had been pretty clear. "Okay," she declared, glancing toward the ice where thirty diminutive hockey players, in their skates, pads and helmets, were doing what Jake identified as some sort of sprinting drill. "I think Jess first," she decided, leading him toward a door with a sign hanging overhead designating it as the 'Main Office'.
Knocking once on the window, she waited just long enough for the middle-aged woman, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, who was inside the office to look up from her phone call and wave them in. "Thank you. Thanks. Sal. No, that's perfect. Sal, I gotta go," she informed the person on the other end before hanging up the phone and turning a wide smile on the office's three new occupants, Heather in particular. "Now, young lady, what's this I hear about you getting married?" she demanded, standing to face the trio, her hands on her hips.
"Well.... I am," Heather answered, grinning in return. Still holding onto Jake's hand, she took a step toward the desk. "Lois, this is Jake - Jake Green," she introduced, adding softly, "My fiancé. And Jake, this is Lois Muncie. Lois has been my Uncle Burt's right hand for longer than I've been alive, and now she's keeping Jess together."
"Oh, I just keep the books and answer the phones, that's all," Lois dismissed with a wave. "Jessie's doin' real good. Her Dad would be real proud. Okay now, let's have a look at this ring," she said a moment later, reaching for Heather's hand. "I don't know that I've seen a prettier one. Very nice, young man," she complimented, turning an appraising eye on Jake.
Heather threaded her arm through his. "It belonged to Jake's grandmother," she explained, "So that makes it even more special."
"For sure," Lois agreed, nodding. She cleared her throat and then addressed Jake, her tone taking on a serious quality. "Now, I've no doubt you're gonna hear this about a million times over the next few days, but I've known this little girl since she was just a gleam in her daddy's eye. Used to love to come in and help me file," Lois laughed, "Five years old, knew the whole alphabet and she was not afraid to use it. So, I'm just sayin', you better take very good care of her."
But before Jake could get out more than, "I will, I promise," the inner office door flew open and a young woman burst into the room, squealing, "Heaaa-ther!"
"Jess," Heather giggled as her cousin practically tackled her, hugging her tightly before turning and surprising Jake by hugging him as well. "Jess," she repeated, shaking her head, "Well, since you've introduced yourself to Jake already," she snorted, "I'll just say, Jess this is Jake. Jake, Jess."
"Hi, Jake," Jessica greeted, letting go of him and taking a step back. She offered him a smile and then her hand. "I just feel like I already know you," she explained, "You're all that Heather's talked about since she met you."
"Well, it's a - a mutual affliction," he replied, snaking his arm around Heather's waist and drawing her against his side. "She's been pretty much all I've thought about since we met," he added, kissing the shell of her ear.
"Ugh, if you weren't just so cute together, I'd be forced to be sick," Jessica protested with a groan.
"Yeah, well, you'll have plenty of chances, trust me," Michael threw out, rolling his eyes.
"Which is exactly how young love is supposed to be," Lois opined then, smiling at Heather. The younger woman smiled in return, a soft blush suffusing her cheeks, but it wasn't anywhere even close to the beet red Lois would have expected. "Your sister-in-laws are all dying to see that beautiful ring and to meet Jake," she prompted, waving them toward the door, laughing, "Well, probably not in that order."
"No, I think you got it right," Heather snickered as Jessica grabbed for her hand, declaring, "I can't believe I forgot to look at the ring!"
"Now, shoo!" Lois commanded, "Except you, Michael. I need to twist your arm to take some more hours in this weekend's schedule," she informed him.
"Oh, so I'm not off the payroll?" Michael inquired sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his cousin.
Already heading for the office door, Jessica answered with a smile. "You came through for me, Mikey," she laughed, "And your loyalty will be rewarded. Of course," she added as soon as the office door was closed behind them, "His reward involves opening up tomorrow at five AM. And, stopping to pick up the doughnuts and muffins for the snack bar on the way."
"Ouch," Jake murmured, feeling a strong wave of sympathy for his future brother-in-law. "You really get a lot of people in here at five in the morning?"
"Ice time's at a premium," Heather's cousin explained with a shrug. "And we get figure skaters in looking for a couple of hours of practice before school and it just goes all day from there. Open skating, group lessons, private lessons, birthday parties, hockey leagues, all day long. We have two adult leagues that regularly have practices and matches beginning at nine, ten PM."
"Huh!" he acknowledged, shaking his head and admitting, "It never would've occurred to me."
Squeezing Jake's hand to get his attention, Heather announced quietly, "Okay, I have to warn you .... You're probably gonna get hugged again."
"Oh, jeez, sorry, Jake," Jessica apologized, though her tone had a rather mocking quality. "But I never would have guessed from your pictures that you had personal space issues," she teased.
Jake rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Heather pulling her against his hip. "Yeah, that's not really a problem for me," he assured before pressing a kiss to his fiancée's mouth.
"So I see," Jessica snickered leading them down the narrow concourse, past the skate rental desk, snack bar and pro shop toward a set of aluminum bleachers, the lower half populated with mothers trying to keep track of toddlers or piles of winter coats and boots or both, while on the ice, their older children had been set loose with their hockey sticks.
They were spotted before they could even mount the first step of the bleachers, as three women - one with a baby on her hip - who were sitting in the fourth row jumped to their feet, shrieking "Heather!" in unison. The one on the end moved quickly out from between the benches, jogging down the bleachers to throw her arms around her sister-in-law, while the other two pointed at Jake, explaining to the other mothers around them that he was Heather's fiancé.
"So, Kerry, what? I was gone for three days, and you managed to have a four year old?" Heather joked, shaking her head. "This is Cub Club," she reminded pointedly. "You're supposed to have a kid."
"Well, she can borrow mine for the weekend," the woman with the baby chuckled, holding onto the railing with her free hand as she made her way down to them.
"Hey, I have the day off," Kerry defended herself, "And a perfect right to spend my free time watching my nieces and nephew practice." Grinning, she turned to face Jake. "I'd know you anywhere. It's nice to meet you in person, Cowboy Jake."
"It's nice to meet you, too, Kerry," Jake laughed, holding his hand out to her, though she ignored it, hugging him quickly instead.
"Oh that's right, you two talked on Christmas Eve," Heather's third sister-in-law - standing on the second step behind the other two - remembered. "I'm Deb, and this is Mandy," she introduced.
Mandy smiled at Jake and hefted her daughter higher on her side, the baby clutching her shirt with one pudgy fist. "And this little munchkin is Hannah."
"We should get out of the way. Come sit down," Deborah invited, already turning to lead them up the bleacher steps.
Mandy and Kerry followed, Jessica slipping past Jake and Heather, who were acutely aware of the appraising gazes of the twenty other women present. "What you guys really need to see is the ring!" Jessica declared seating herself on the bench behind the one Heather's three sisters-in-law had returned to. Jake, letting Heather precede him into the row, traced his thumb over the stone, flashing her a quick smile when she looked back over her shoulder at him.
"Here," Heather declared, extracting her hand from Jake's and holding it out for inspection after they had settled themselves on the aluminum bench. The two women sitting in front of them - both of them familiar to Heather, though for the life of her she couldn't think of their names - turned around to look as well. "It belonged to Jake's grandmother."
"Wow, that's really pretty," Mandy said, trying to pass her daughter over to Kerry.
Kerry though avoided ending up with her niece by scrambling over the bench to join Jessica in the row above. "John and I'll babysit any weekend you want, just name it," she promised, "But right now I need to see this ring." Smiling, she leaned over, trying to wrest Heather's hand from Mandy so she could get a closer look. "That really is nice."
"Speaking of weekends away, aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?" Heather asked, frowning softly.
Deborah, who had ended up with little Hannah in her lap, snorted softly. "John and Kerry literally raced one another for the phone to call and cancel when your Dad told us all you were bringing Jake back this weekend," she explained, catching Heather's eye. "I told Kyle not to run in the house yesterday and he said 'but Auntie Kerry and Uncle Johnny did,' so thanks a bunch for that," she added, rolling her eyes at her sister-in-law.
"Sorry," Kerry apologized easily, though she had the good grace to look a little bit embarrassed when she looked up, offering, "Can I interest you in a free weekend of babysitting?"
"Oh, yeah. That I'll take," Deborah chuckled.
"Well, my parents will always have their condo for a week in January," Kerry told Heather, "But you're only gonna bring Jake home to meet us all for the first time once. No way were John and I gonna miss that. Besides, as soon as I told my Mom, she totally understood."
"Mine too," Mandy interjected. "This is supposed to be the Sunday we have dinner at my parents, but as soon as I said you'd gotten engaged, Mom said that this was where we needed to be," she chuckled. "That's how well she knows Tommy."
"Ugh, Tommy," Heather complained, grabbing her sister-in-law's arm. "Mandy, you have to tell me what he's planning. We heard him on the radio, coming over here. He told all of Buffalo that he and Andy and John have 'plans' for Jake."
"He said something about getting hockey tickets until he remembered that the Sabres are out of town 'til Tuesday," Mandy shrugged.
Groaning in frustration, Heather shook her head. "No! They're totally up to something, and it's not male bonding at the hockey game. You guys need to talk to them," she insisted, glancing over at Deb and then back at Kerry and Jessica. "Threaten them," she suggested, "Withhold ... something if you have to."
Heather's three sisters-in-law, her cousin, and a number of the other women sitting around them immediately erupted in laughter. "Oh my God," Deborah gasped out, "I can't believe she just said that!"
"You can't?" Kerry hooted. "'Cause I think Jake's the one who's really shocked," she continued, giggling and pointing at the suddenly beet red Heather and at Jake, who indeed looked stunned and maybe just a little bit amused by his fiancée's outburst.
"No!" Heather protested with a yelp, "That's not what I meant! Or - I mean - I kinda meant it, but they just get so outta control," she complained, grimacing in frustration. "They - they need to be nipped in the bud, and - oh my God." Eyes wide, she gaped for a moment, staring at one of the women sitting in front of them. The other woman met her gaze with a friendly smile. "You're - you're Leslie Frye," she groaned. "I knew - I knew I recognized you, but I couldn't quite place your face."
"It's Leslie Huntzinger now," the other woman corrected gently, "And I definitely had an advantage. I figured out weeks ago that all the Lisinskis running around here were probably relatives of yours," she explained, laughing. "And then today, I overheard some talk about your engagement. Congratulations!"
"Thanks," Heather sighed, her blush beginning to subside and a genuine smile creeping onto her face. She glanced sideways at her fiancé. "Leslie and I played field hockey together. You were even team captain one year," she reminded, turning back to face Leslie.
"So, I hope you weren't the one who whacked Heather in the knee," Jake said, though it was obvious from his tone that he was making a joke.
"You got whacked in the knee?" Leslie asked, sounding surprised.
"You'd already graduated. Pre-season tournament my junior year," Heather dismissed with a wave. "Caught a stick to my knee cap, had to get stitches."
"It's an impressive scar," Jake added, playing with Heather's fingers.
She laughed, flashing him a smile, their eyes catching and locking. "Yeah, well you've got some that are more impressive," she teased.
Again, her sisters-in-law, cousin, and the other women around them, all burst into laughter. "Uh, Heth..." Mandy giggled somewhat uneasily, advising, "You might wanna try not to say things like that in front of your Dad. Or Tommy," she added after a second's pause.
"Or Drew, or John," Deborah added, fighting a smile as she glanced back at Kerry who nodded vigorously in agreement.
In an instant, Heather turned a deep, crimson red once more. "That's - that's not - " she sputtered before giving up and slumping against Jake, her head hanging down. A quiet, somewhat strangled, "Oh, God," escaped her.
"Well, I do have a really nasty scar on my calf and ankle," Jake defended his fiancée, his arm tightening around her. "It's pretty new, ya know. Busted it bad when some ... things went wrong on a case I was workin' back in June."
"Awwww," Kerry intoned, leaning forward to squeeze Jake's shoulder. "Aren't you quite the gentlemen?" she joked, chuckling softly. "I don't know what we're gonna do with you."
"So, you're gonna live in Kansas?" Leslie asked, catching Heather's eye as she finally dared to raise her head. "That's gotta be different."
Grateful for the helpful change of subject, Heather forced a friendly smile, nodding. "Not that different," she assured. "I mean, it's hot in the summer and cold in the winter, just like here. Less snow overall, I think, though that may just be this year," she realized, throwing Jake a questioning look.
"But tornadoes, right?" Leslie interjected, chuckling, "Or was the Wizard of Oz all just a big lie?"
"Well, I haven't met up with a tornado yet," Heather explained with nervous laugh. "Knock on wood," she added, rapping her fist on the aluminum bench before looking around, complaining, "Oh, come on, somebody's got to have a stick I can knock on."
"Down there," Jessica said, pointing at an equipment bag that was shoved against the wall next to the rink entrance. "Brian's always got a few extra with him. Hey, Mikey!" she called out, spotting her cousin as he appeared at the foot of the bleachers. "We need a stick up here."
Michael's expression was clearly dubious. "Who you planning to kill?" he yelled back.
"It's for Heather," she responded, snorting loudly. "She needs to knock on it to ward off tornadoes."
"Nah, that's Jake's job now," Michael shouted, dismissing his cousin with a shake of his head before turning and walking toward the rail so he could watch the practice. The children were now working on a puck control drill with varying levels of success. "C'mon, cubs, concentrate!" he hollered, clapping his hands together.
"He's your brother," Jessica reminded Heather. "And I'm not gonna threaten to fire him for that."
"Looks like it's all up to you, Jake," Deborah told him, smiling as he exchanged a quick kiss with Heather. "And I wish I could tell you we aren't always like this," she laughed, trying to disentangle baby Hannah who, with one slobbery fist, had gotten a firm grip on the placket of her aunt's shirt, managing to undo two buttons. "But this is pretty much ... us."
Extracting herself from Jake's loose embrace, Heather reached for the baby. "Here, Deb, I'll take her."
"Thanks," her sister-in-law sighed, wiping her damp blouse with one hand which she then wiped on her jeans before she re-buttoned her shirt and zipped her sweater up to her chin. "But we're harmless, really," Deborah continued, glancing past Heather at Jake. "It's just - well, I've known Heather since she was eleven," she explained, adding, "Kinda before that, really. I mean I knew who the Lisinskis were, but that's when Drew and I first started going out."
"That was the summer you stalked Andy," Jessica laughed, drawing an interested glance from Jake. "Terri Panchik's mother had twins that year - numbers five and six - so Terri's dad hired Deb as a mother's helper, and she'd always get Terri to get Heather and me to come over to play so she could walk us back to Heather's at the end of the afternoon."
"That's right," Heather giggled, resting her hand on Jake's arm. Their eyes met and she offered him a big smile over her niece's head. "And I so talked you up," she added, glancing sideways at Deborah as Jake snaked his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip. "Just like you told me to," she accused her sister-in-law, laughing.
"Well it worked, didn't it?" Deborah returned, unrepentant. "Drew finally asked me out in August, and the rest, as they say, is history. So you see, Jake," she continued, smiling as she watched Jake make a quick face at baby Hannah, who responded with a giggle. "Heather's my little sister, no 'in-law' about it. I'm not as vocal as the boys, but you still better take care of her. Got it?" she demanded sweetly.
"Got it," he confirmed, pressing a kiss to the top of his fiancée's head.
"Jake does a very good job of taking care of me," Heather insisted, looking back at him over her shoulder. He detected a tightness in her smile, one he assumed was caused by her worry that he'd take offense at her family's inquisition, and so he smiled in return, gently brushing the tiniest - so tiny, the women sitting around them weren't sure it was actually there - wisp of hair off her face. "And you're gonna love this," she decided, clearing her throat softly a second later. "That was the summer I went to horse camp, and it was Deb who drove the three of us every day, for the whole week." Glancing at Deborah and Mandy, she explained, "Jake thinks horse camp is the funniest thing he's ever heard of."
"Nah, I think it's a racket," Jake corrected, shaking his head.
"Well, we can't all grow up on a ranch," she reminded. "And, thank heavens I went to horse camp. At least I had some clue what I was doing, sort of, when we went riding."
"Soooo, Jake," Jessica inquired, leaning in close, "How'd Heather do? Can we tell Uncle Joe that those lessons were worth it?" she laughed.
Jake grinned at Heather, enjoying the picture she and her baby niece made together as Heather helped Hannah clap her mittened hands. "She did great," he answered, finally - reluctantly - glancing back at Jessica. "Just need to get her some boots and her own horse and she'll be a total pro."
"Okay, wait a minute here," Kerry interjected with a squeak. "Heather gets a horse? All her own? Really? That's so unfair."
"Not my own," Heather argued only to be contradicted by Jake.
"She can have her own. We've got a whole ranch full of horses," he reminded. "We'll find the right one for her."
"I always wanted a horse," Mandy sighed, declaring a second later, "I think I'm gonna hafta move to Kansas!"
"Yeah, me too," Kerry grumbled softly. "So, how d'ya think Johnny's gonna take the news?" she joked.
"Jake, I don't need a horse," Heather whispered at him urgently.
He shrugged, leaning closer to remind her, "Hey, Gramps gave April one. Two, actually, since Arabella's gonna foal in a couple of months now."
"Yeah, but April's dad is a vet," Heather protested quietly, biting her lip. "She grew up riding, been doin' it as long as you have."
"Babe, really, he's gonna give you one," Jake said, his voice pitched low. "You might as well get used to it."
"Oh, take it," Leslie advised. She hadn't said anything for awhile, but she'd been following the conversation closely all the same. "For all of us stuck back here in Buffalo who will just have to make do with memories of our 'My Little Pony' collections," she joked.
"My Cabbage Patch Kid had a horse," Mandy announced then.
Deb laughed, shaking her head. "Of course it did."
"You were so spoiled," Kerry grumbled, complaining, "I really think you had every toy made in the seventies and eighties, including the Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine my mother always said was too messy."
"Whereas the rest of us just had to settle for Western Barbie," Jessica sighed. "With her sparkly white cowgirl outfit, blue eye shadow, and the one eye that winked when you pushed the giant button in her back."
"I remember that!" Leslie laughed. "It was the Dolly Parton Barbie doll. I mean, the most Dolly Parton-like Barbie," she clarified, sighing, "But I never got the horse."
"Me either," Deborah agreed. "Mandy?"
Mandy however was spared from having to answer by the sudden ear piercing sound of the whistle signaling the end of Cub Club. All the mothers jumped immediately to their feet, while on the ice their children all began to skate - not always gracefully - for the exit.
"I'll think about the horse thing," Heather murmured, turning sideways - as did Jake, their knees pressed together - to allow her sisters-in-law to squeeze by.
"Heather?" Mandy asked expectantly, and Heather nodded, jiggling the baby in her lap.
"I've got her," she assured, shooing Mandy along after Deborah.
"And, I better get over to the snack bar," Jessica decided, "Help deal with the coming onslaught."
Jake watched the commotion going on around them for a few seconds and then turned back to face his fiancée. "You can think about it, but Gramps is gonna do what he wants to do," he reminded, grinning at her. He caught the baby's eye - she was drooling on the sleeve of Heather's coat - and surprised himself by saying, "You tell Auntie Heather. Gramps does what he wants." Heather stiffened at his words, surprising Jake. "Hey," he frowned, laying his hand over hers, "I - if it's really that big a deal, I'll -"
"No, Jake, no," she muttered, leaning toward him, her eyes falling closed. "I just - I spotted Mark Metzger's cousin Charlene, and I shouldn't even care because why do I even care what she thinks of me, but -" Heather cut herself off with a frustrated though quiet groan.
She opened her eyes, her gaze locking immediately with his. "Hey, it's okay," he smiled, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "You really shouldn't care what the prick's cousin thinks, but it's still okay."
"Heather!" Deborah called out startling Jake, Heather, and even the baby on her lap, whose limbs flailed wildly so that she hit her aunt on the breast and kicked Jake on the thigh with one tiny foot. "Heather!" Deborah shouted again, urgently waving her down from the bleachers.
Instinctively, Heather looked around for someone to hand her niece off to and, immediately realizing that Jake was the only candidate, moved to transfer the baby to his lap. "Wait! No! Heather," he protested, clearly panicked.
"Jake, you just have to hold her," Heather argued, plopping the baby in his lap. "Two minutes, you just have to sit there, really."
"I don't know what to do. I've never done this," he protested.
"Never?" she questioned, "Your Mom used to babysit Dale."
"Yeah, but I didn't. Until he could go to the bathroom by himself and - and - you know, talk -"
"Heather!" Deborah yelled.
She glanced toward her sister-in-law and then back at Jake. "Look, just hold onto her and sit," she instructed. "Put your hands under her arms, and hold on - not too tight - and I'll be right back," Heather promised, smiling at him when he did as directed. She let go of the baby and leaned toward him, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, though it did nothing to ease his rather terrified expression. "Thank you," she added, standing up, "I love you."
Jake didn't even bother to nod, ordering through gritted teeth, "Just go and come back." He looked down at Hannah then, chuckling nervously when he saw that she was sucking on two fingers and staring back up at him, her eyes wide.
"Okay, what's up?" Heather asked, skidding to a stop in front of her sisters-in-law. She looked around, expecting that there was a kid who needed help getting out of their equipment, but Mandy was helping Ali, Deborah was with Kyle, and Rebekah was handing her things to Kerry as she took them off, chattering about how she wasn't really a cub anymore, and how she and her best friend Samantha were Coach Brian's - Samantha's dad's - assistants. "Whaddya need?" Heather inquired, her expression turning quizzical.
"Oh!" Deborah exclaimed, pulling her son's jersey off over his head. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she continued, her voice dropping, "I should've warned you about ...." Deborah cocked her head toward Charlene, who had gotten her son's skates off and was now hurrying him away in his socks, but otherwise still dressed in the rest of his equipment. "We pretty much just ignore her and she ignores us, so it didn't even occur to me -"
"Right!" Mandy confirmed, nodding her agreement. "No way are we having anything to do with the rhymes with W - I - T - C - H who called you a S - K - A - N - K," she spelled, stooping down to unlace her daughter's skates.
"Somebody called you a skunk, Auntie Heather?" Rebekah asked, her forehead wrinkling. "Why?"
"Well, that's what I'd like to know," Heather grumbled, rolling her eyes. "'Cause I still don't get how I'm a - uh - a skunk when I never went - went past second base with Mark. I don't even think I was a tease, but definitely not a skank. By definition."
"Auntie Heather, you're not supposed to tease people. It's not nice," Rebekah admonished, while Ali, her expression puzzled, questioned, "What's second base?"
"Baseball," Kerry answered the little girl, clearly fighting to keep from laughing. "Just baseball. Heather was playing baseball." A wicked gleam crept into her eye and she threw her sister-in-law a knowing look. "And, I just bet Jake loves to play baseball."
"Kerry!" Mandy and Deborah scolded in unison.
"So, uh, Heth," Mandy continued, chuckling, "You guys want kids, right? Because, boy, he looks scared to death. I thought everyone loved my Hannah Banana," she said, slipping into her baby talk voice.
"We want kids eventually," Heather emphasized. "Eventually. And, he's doing okay," she insisted, glancing up at her fiancé in the bleachers. He was still holding onto the baby rather stiffly, but at least he'd managed to settle her on his lap. For her part, Hannah had grabbed Jake's sleeve and seemed to be holding on for dear life. "This is just new for him, but he'll - he'll get it. It's not like he's gonna hurt her."
"I'm actually more worried about him than her," Mandy admitted, trading Ali a sweatshirt for her hockey pads, which she then dropped into a sports bag. "You should go rescue him before he has a heart attack."
"Sorry 'bout that," Heather apologized fifteen seconds later as she pulled - with some difficulty - little Hannah from Jake's grasp. "Was it too awful?" she asked, seating herself on the bench next to him and playfully bumping her shoulder against his.
"Nah, not too bad," he answered, though relief was clearly evident in his voice. He reached for the baby's foot then, tugging it gently and prompting her surprised squawk. "She's a cute kid," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "So, what'd they want?"
"I think it was hazing," she snorted. "Of you. They said they were apologizing for not telling me about Charlene, but I think they really just wanted to see you with a baby." Heather leaned against Jake's arm, offering him a sideways smile. "But you totally passed. They all think you're great." Holding Hannah securely against her chest with one arm, she reached for his hand with her free one. "So, the next part of the ice rink, hockey practice thing is a trip to the snack bar. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" she asked, "Hot chocolate? They make a mocha, but since I have worked in that snack bar it's only fair to warn you that they make it by pouring the coffee over the chocolate powder and it's not especially good."
"I'll take a cup of coffee," Jake agreed, standing and then helping Heather to her feet. "But I'm buyin'. So what d'ya think they'll want?" he asked, gesturing at the six Lisinskis waiting at the foot of the bleachers.
"Jake, you don't have to do -"
"Hey, I want to," he countered. "How 'bout some candy, huh, Hannah," he asked, touching the baby's hand with two very tentative, very gentle fingers. "Or an Icee. Auntie Heather says they've got Icees," he teased, flashing his fiancée a quick grin.
Shaking her head, Heather smiled in return. "Hannah's too little to have anything at the snack bar, poor baby. But Auntie Heather thinks coffee sounds good."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs
"Hey. Hi. Uh, so, welcome to Jericho."
Maggie spared the newcomer - early twenties, she guessed - lurking in the doorway an annoyed and distracted glance before finally muttering a put upon, "Hi." Jake was already out of sight, and she had no flipping clue what had just happened. Twisting around in her seat she met the younger man's eye, her gaze narrowing. "So, the pregnant girl, that was his..." she prompted. But he didn't answer immediately and so she tried again, guessing, "She's his girlfriend? His - "
"His wife," he supplied finally, his expression sheepish or sympathetic or maybe something else. Apparently she couldn't read anyone anymore - an unnerving thought, indeed. "Heather. She and Jake are married. She's - she's my sister," he added, stepping into the room and offering her his hand. "And, I'm Mike."
"Your sister?" Maggie repeated, ignoring his polite overture. She shook her head, groaning. "Well, that's just great. Of course she's your sister. Your pregnant sister," she mumbled, though Michael was pretty sure she was talking more to herself than to him. "And for the record," she informed him, eyes flashing, "He didn't tell me he was married."
"Probably didn't think he had to," Michael said, his hand dropping back to his side. "He usually wears his wedding ring, but he was in an accident a few days ago. Frostbite, hypothermia, the whole nine yards," he explained. "We had to strip him down at the med center, and that included his ring. Hasn't put it back on, but he probably doesn't know where it is." Noting her incredulous expression, he shrugged, finishing, "I just mean, maybe he thought you just knew."
"Yeah, well, I didn't," she snapped, turning back to her project. She picked up the soldering iron and made a show of getting back to work. "I don't flirt - not that we were really flirting," Maggie insisted, "Well, maybe he was - he started it! But I don't flirt with married men." She paused a moment, sucking down a deep breath, sparing him a suspicious glance. "Though, hafta say, it's a little weird that you'd defend him, seeing as she's your sister."
"Heather can take care of herself, don't worry," Michael chuckled, stepping closer so he could observe her progress. "So can Jake. Of course, he also knows when to grovel, and I'm thinking this is one of those times when groveling is the way to go."
"Yeah." Maggie's answer was clipped. She could feel him standing behind her and so she forced herself to concentrate on her task - a losing battle really - refusing to look back at him. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and realized she was embarrassed. Had she learned nothing since the bombs? Did it really only take someone being halfway nice to her - a reasonably good conversation - and she'd just let down her guard? Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself while at the same time willing the young man standing behind her to go away and leave her alone.
"You want some help?" he asked, apparently not recognizing that she was literally giving him the cold shoulder. "I - I built a radio from a kit for my ninth grade science fair project." Heather had done the same when she was a freshman, but Michael knew better than to mention that. Still, he'd taken great advantage of the fact that he had a science brainiac sister who was four years older and who hadn't attended the same high school anyway, and the opportunity it had afforded him to duplicate all of her projects. Of course, future teacher Heather had made him cite her work and expand upon it, but she'd been a great resource, and Michael had not only done well every year, he'd actually learned a lot. "It worked. Gotta signal as far as Quebec one night, talked to long haul trucker for a good twenty minutes, all in first year French," he chuckled.
Looking back over her shoulder, she studied him for a moment, her expression guarded. "Well ... you're not married, are you?"
Michael snorted. "No, don't worry. I am pathetically single."
Maggie spun her chair around then, arms crossed protectively over her chest, their eyes meeting. "Pathetically, huh?" she echoed, cracking the slightest of smiles.
"Seriously," he nodded. "My college girlfriend? Went JYA to Ireland, fell in love with someone else, got pregnant, got married, moved Seamus back to the States with her which got him a green card, and, well, I got a Christmas card with a picture of their kid. The kid's cute at least."
"Ouch," she murmured sympathetically. "Is his name really Seamus?"
"Nah, it's David," Michael admitted, "But it felt good to call him Seamus that first week after she dumped me, and now it's just stuck in my head."
"Maggie," she announced a few seconds later, holding her hand out to him. "That's my name. Maggie."
"Nice to meet you, Maggie," he grinned, shaking her hand.
"And, for the record, I don't think that exactly makes you pathetically single," she informed him. "Unlucky, maybe."
"Yeah, unlucky sounds right," Michael agreed, looking down at his boot. "After Caitlin, I swore off girls for awhile, you know. Then, when I got to med school, there was this one girl.... Delia. She was smart, funny - we had a couple of classes together. I finally got up the nerve to ask her out, oh... two hours before the bombs. Then, the whole school got drafted by the National Guard. I walked her to a helicopter - supposed to take her to a FEMA camp to work in the clinic - and it took off ten minutes before the EMP."
"That's - wow. I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say, a fact which showed on her face, Maggie was sure.
"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "We all have our hard luck, after the bombs stories, right?"
"Right," Maggie agreed, her throat tightening painfully. "So, uh," she continued, blinking hard, "You were in med school? Isn't - isn't the med school in Kansas City? The one in Kansas? How'd you get here?"
"I was at Yale, actually," Michael admitted, "It's - it's in Connecticut."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I've heard of it," she snorted. "Good school. But how the hell did you manage to get from there to here? That's - that's not an easy trip these days."
"Well, it wasn't," he agreed, shuffling his feet. Turning he crossed to the other desk in the room and grabbed the rolling chair, steering it over to where Maggie sat. "Coupl'a buddies and I, we ... we made it," Michael offered, straddling the chair backwards. "We were pretty lucky. Second day, we found this gas station. Abandoned. The mini mart was just ... trashed," he recalled. "But we managed to get into the storage tanks and get some gas. And, Drake, he went through the office. I never would have thought of it," Michael admitted, allowing a humorless chuckle. "Found the company wide directory of every franchise in North America. With that and a set of triple 'A' maps, we just started following a trail from gas station to gas station, the more rural the better. We learned pretty early on to avoid the National Guard as much as possible, no offense."
"None taken," Maggie assured. "Those weekend warrior yahoos?" she joked, "We avoid 'em too."
"Right," Michael acknowledged with a grin. "Anyway, that's what we did. Not that we didn't have trouble finding gas and food," he continued, his expression sobering. "We'd find something, if we were lucky, maybe one in ten times. Cities are bad - but you probably know that." Maggie nodded. "And, sometimes out in the sticks, people were still actin' like things would work out eventually. This one place, some guy took an imprint of my credit card and sold me five gallons. Said that was all he could sell, given the national emergency and all."
"Wow, that's pretty unreal," she murmured.
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure he was insane," Michael grumbled. "No way he survives the winter."
"But you made it home," Maggie reminded. "That's pretty good."
He shook his head. "I'm not from here, actually. We grew up in Buffalo - upstate New York," he explained. "But Heather moved here, and then she and Jake got married -"
"And I hope she's giving him hell right now," Maggie interjected, annoyance bleeding into her tone. She turned back to her work. "Still, this is a pretty good place to land," she added a moment later, glancing over her shoulder at Michael. "After everything I've seen ... this is the sort of place I'd like to end up. Nice little town - functioning - and you just settle in for the duration. So what are you gonna do?" she asked a moment later, leaning over the radio to examine a couple of wires. "Come spring, come next year, or whenever all of this is over? Go back to med school?" she guessed.
"Don't know," Michael admitted. "We work at the clinic here, try to keep up on our studies.... But after everything that's happened, I don't know that I could do it, don't know that I could go back." He exhaled deeply, offering her a crooked smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get all - whatever - on you."
Maggie returned his smile, waving his apology off with one hand. "That's okay," she assured as she closed the radio up, satisfied with her repairs. "Okay."
"So, who are you trying to call on that thing anyway?" he asked, scooting his chair closer to the desk, his arm brushing hers in the process.
"Division headquarters in Dodge City," she replied, her tone turning business-like.
"It's about two hundred miles away..." Michael informed her, clearly skeptical about her chances.
"This thing's made it farther," Maggie assured, standing up. "Of course, that was before it took some rounds," she conceded as she raised the handset to her ear. "Fourth Mar Div, Fourth Mar Div," she called into the mouthpiece, "This is First Platoon, Charlie Company authentication Thunder, over." She paused for a second, adjusting the radio frequency, and then repeated herself. "Fourth Mar Div, Fourth Mar Div, this is First Platoon, Charlie Company authentication Thunder, over."
The radio crackled with static and then suddenly a stiff male voice answered. "Charlie Thunder, this is Charlie Company Actual. We've been trying to reach you on this frequency for days," the operator at the other end complained. "Division needs the entire Fourth Tank Battalion RTB ASAP. Do you copy?"
"Aye aye, sir," she replied, expelling a somewhat anxious breath. Maggie glanced at Michael, their eyes locking for a moment. A concerned smile twisted his mouth and she couldn't help but offer a nervous one in return, wishing that she could do something to alleviate his worry.
"Make that most ricky tick, Corporal," the nameless operator back in Dodge City commanded brusquely.
Maggie nodded, acknowledging the order quickly. "Roger that, Charlie Company. Actual out." Shoving the handset back into the radio case, she gripped it tightly and turned away from Michael, moving to retrieve her pack and weapon from where she'd left them earlier, sitting on a chair and leaning against the wall. She risked a glance in his direction, encountering his confused frown.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
Maggie closed her eyes, unsure of why it was so hard to tell him this. "We just got ordered back to Dodge City," she mumbled.
* * * * *
"Dammit, Heather," Jake grumbled, already at a jog as he entered the bullpen in the center of the sheriff's station. She was moving surprisingly fast - or maybe he was just slower than usual, he realized, wincing as his still sore body protested the jarring action. "Heather, c'mon!" he shouted as she yanked open the door that exited into the building's foyer. "Heather!" Bill, the only other person in the office, watched the scene playing out in front of him with obvious interest, at least until Jake caught his eye, after which the blotter on his desk suddenly became very fascinating. "Heather!" Jake yelled after his wife again, scrambling around the front counter after her.
He caught up with her three steps from the front door, grabbing the sleeve of her coat. "Don't!" she protested, trying to shake him off.
"You don't," Jake snapped in return. "Just - just stop!" He tugged her back toward the center of the lobby. "Just stop for a minute," he repeated, his voice softening, "Please. Please, babe."
Clearly reluctant, Heather allowed him to guide her to his brother's office. He pushed open the door without knocking - Eric wasn't inside - gesturing for her to enter before him. She marched into the middle of the room, and then turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest, glaring. "So?" she demanded after a few seconds, her voice cracking softly, her lip - Jake spotted, cringing as he did - trembling softly.
"Babe, I - I'm sorry," he apologized. He didn't know what else to do, but he did know that he didn't want her mad at him, and he didn't want to hurt her. "I'm just sorry," he repeated.
She took a deep, fortifying breath, forcing a smile. "Well, okay then. Thank you. Excuse me."
Her words were delivered with a painful and obviously forced pleasantness that caused Jake to instinctively grit his teeth. She started to move toward the door and he stepped in front of her, reaching for her hand. "Babe, please."
"No!" Heather contradicted, pulling her hand away. "You're sorry. Great. But you - you were flirting with her!" she accused, an angry glint sparking in her eye.
"We weren't flirting," he argued, shaking his head 'no'. "We were just talking, that's all."
"So, you'll talk to a complete stranger, but you won't talk to me," she protested, turning on her heel and stomping over to Eric's desk. "Thank you, Jake," Heather drawled out sarcastically. "I so appreciate your - your trust in me."
More than a little annoyed, Jake scrubbed a hand over his face, allowing an aggravated groan. "I talk to you," he insisted. "I talk to you all the time."
"No, you don't. Or you haven't, not since the accident. I ask you how you are, how you're feeling, and you blow me off," Heather complained. "You're fine or you're tired, but you never wanna talk ab -"
"It was an attack," he interrupted, his voice raised. "And calling it an accident might make the rest of you feel better," he continued, unconsciously grinding his fist against his thigh, "But it doesn't change what happened." He paused, moving across the room, limping slightly, to perch himself on the edge of his brother's desk. Facing her, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanna talk? Not today," he accused quietly. "You left without even saying goodbye."
"I did not," she contradicted, clearly annoyed. "You were asleep. I said goodbye. I even - I kissed you goodbye. Your Dad had to fake a coughing fit, trying not to laugh at me," Heather admitted, glancing down at her hands which were folded protectively over their baby. "And while we're busy changing subjects," she grumbled, rolling her eyes in his direction, "You are not as recovered from the acc - from what happened out there as you think you are. You're still sleeping in the living room, for goodness' sake," she squeaked in protest, "And you're sure not ready to be gallivanting around with the Marines."
"I'm fine," he insisted. "And I didn't tell her anything - anything important, I swear," Jake added, meeting his wife's wary gaze. "Told her that we were run off the road and that we tried to stay alive, that's all. That's all," he repeated.
'Well, what about you being a 'brooding bad boy'?" Heather challenged. "That - she seemed pretty ... friendly to me," she sniffed, her nose wrinkling.
Shrugging, Jake shoved a guest chair over a few inches with his foot, silently offering it to her. "We were talking - just talking. And ... something she said - it - it got to me," he admitted.
"Okay," she acknowledged a few interminable seconds later. She laid her hand on the back of the chair, pulling it out another few inches from the desk before seating herself in it, facing her husband. He flashed her a tentative smile, letting out a relieved if somewhat uneven breath when her hard stare softened somewhat. "I just - Jake -"
"I thought I was gonna die out there, Heather, I really did." He paused then, inhaling deeply, their eyes locking. "I thought I was going to die, and - and -" Jake broke off, squeezing his eyes shut, his lips pressed tightly together in a hard line. "There wasn't anything I could do - nothing but lie there and wait for it to happen," he muttered. "And think." Letting out a slow, hissing breath, he opened his eyes, blinkingly meeting her gaze once more. "My life didn't - didn't flash before me, but all my - all the things I regret - my regrets, I thought about them," he confessed quietly. "Went over them, again and again."
Heather allowed a slight nod at his uncharacteristic admission. Most times, Jake would rather chew glass than bare so much of his soul, even to her. She was stunned, in a good way, though contrarily, tears pricked behind her eyes and tightened her throat. "I - I see," she murmured.
"And, my biggest regret was that I'd be leaving you alone in - in all this," he told her, gesturing at the room around them - and, she inferred - the uncertain world outside its walls. "You and our baby," Jake added, grimacing as he tried to find the words to express everything he'd been feeling that night. "That -- that I'd never even get to see him - see him born," he explained quietly. So quietly that Heather strained, holding her breath, to hear his words. "Or - or get to hold him," he completed, heaving a ragged sigh.
Looking at Heather for her reaction, Jake was surprised to find her staring back at him, her expression almost blank though her eyes were wide and bright. He didn't know what to think. Didn't she understand? Didn't this affect her the way it did him? Lifting himself off the edge of the desk, he turned away from her and moved over to the window, gripping the sill with both hands. "So, you get it now?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. He couldn't bring himself to look back, to see that she wasn't getting it. "Talking about what happened out there -"
"I do, Jake - I do get it," she interrupted quietly, touching his arm, sending an electric jolt through his body. She was standing just behind him, he realized, dazed, though he hadn't heard her get up or walk across the room. "Thank you for telling me," Heather added, sighing deeply. "I get it. I - it helps - in a weird way, it helps to know that we were thinking about the same things. That's what - everything - it's what I was thinking about - what I was so, so scared of - while I was waiting at the clinic for them to bring you in," she told him, taking a step back as he turned to face her. She reached for his hand, now stripped of its glove, and laced their fingers together, keenly aware of his still chapped skin, rougher against her own tender flesh than was normal. "How if something happened to you.... I wouldn't - I wouldn't want to live -"
"Babe," he rasped in protest, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek.
"I just - I love you, Jake," Heather declared, her eyes glistening with unshed tears though a genuine smile had bloomed on her lips. "And, we don't have to talk about it, but don't shut me out either, okay?"
Leaning into him, their baby safe and snug between them, she tilted her mouth toward his, and then brushed her lips across his, her eyes falling closed while they kissed. "I - I wanted to go with the rescue party to save you," she told him as she pulled away, giggling anxiously. "Not really sure what I thought I was going to do, but if you needed me...."
"I always need you," he returned, "But honestly, I don't remember them getting me outta there," he explained, squeezing her hand. "I don't remember anything between my Dad showing up - God, he just kept yelling at me," Jake grumbled. He could still hear his father's words - 'stay with me', 'hang on, Jake', 'it's okay' - could remember his father's tight grip, like he was physically fighting to keep him there, and he could remember his father comforting him, offering absolution, as he'd drifted off into what Jake had assumed would be his final sleep. "Anyway," he completed, clearing his throat, "Next thing I knew, I woke up at the med center with you there."
"Well, Stanley and Mikey put the kibosh on my going," Heather complained, still giggling, as she let Jake lead her back to her chair.
"Good, remind me to thank them," he requested, squatting down next to her knee. Reaching over, he took her hand, cradling it in both of his for a moment before raising it to his lips to place a kiss on her wrist. Catching her eye, he inquired huskily, "We okay?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "Yeah, I think we're okay."
"Good," Jake repeated, offering her a gentle smile. '''Cause I'm tired of sleepin' in that old recliner, and was thinkin' I'd actually go upstairs tonight."
Grinning, Heather brushed a lock of hair off Jake's face, resting her hand on her belly when he started to stand up, letting it go. "Now that sounds like a plan."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 14C
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