The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 14E of ? by Marzee Doats


Author's Note: When last I posted I swore I would not wait 18 months to post again, but then real life intervened, most notably when both my parents ended up in the hospital early last summer, and now it's been more than 18 months. But, I can report that good health abounds and I am once again fully immersed in the Different Circumstances world.  So while I'm not going to promise a timeframe for the next installment, I can report that a good portion is already written.

Much thanks to everyone who has been waiting for the return of Different Circumstances.  A special shout out to Shadowflame who's recent reviews have been a great motivator.

Thanks to Skyrose for the fabulous (as always) beta job, and to PennyLane for checking in on me and for offering the Richmond perspective whenever I need it.


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

Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs

“What’re you doing?” Maggie demanded.  She moved quickly around Hill to kneel next to Michael.  Of course Hill wasn’t really his name, it was just the one that came with his stolen uniform, but besides Steve it was the only name she knew for him.  Maggie wasn’t a medical student like Michael was – when the bombs hit, she’d actually been doing graduate work in Museum Studies, dreaming one day of curating exhibits at the Smithsonian – but she’d long been CPR certified, and she knew how to check for a pulse.  Michael’s was reasonably strong, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  He was going to be fine, she told herself, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  “Steve!  What -- You could have hurt him bad,” she complained, willing Michael to stay unconscious a little longer – long enough for her to get Hill out of there.

Hill glared at her.  “What am I doin’? What’re you doin’?” he barked.  “We were almost outta here and you told him, Maggie.  What were you thinkin’?”

“He figured it out,” she argued, standing up and making a show of dusting herself off.  “He heard the fireworks on the radio –“

“So what do we do with him now?” Hill interrupted, looking around the store.  “Gotta tie ‘im up or somethin’”

“Whaddya – whaddya mean?” Maggie questioned, panic in her tone.  Wasn’t what they’d done to him – to the whole town – enough?  “Let’s just leave,” she begged.

He threw her a look that clearly questioned her sanity.  “And what?” he growled, “Wait for him to tell the whole town when we’re half a mile out?  It’d be Greenville all over again,” he predicted grimly.

A shudder ran through Maggie.  “But we’re not killers,” she argued.

“I was a P.E. teacher who saw too many movies,” Hill snorted, “So now I’m a Marine.  I’m adapting.”

He started to move toward Michael, and Maggie had to scramble to block his way.  “No!”

“It’s him or us,” he snapped.

“And I vote for you,” an older, bearded man drawled, stepping out of the shadows at the back of the store, a rifle trained on Hill.  Jake and another man moved out from behind him, their weapons drawn.  They were outnumbered, and Maggie heaved a sigh of relief, glad that the whole charade was finally over.  “You know, ammunition being in such short supply, I doubt those weapons are even loaded.”

Steve, though, wasn’t going to give in so easily.  He pointed his gun at Michael – and then at Maggie, when she moved into the line of fire.  “You wanna take that chance?” he challenged.  “I’ll shoot her, and then him too.”

The older man cocked his rifle.  “I know damn well this one’s loaded.”

Maggie closed her eyes, afraid of what would happen next.  It was too much, it was happening too fast, it wasn’t – it just wasn’t right.  She took a half step back, ready to throw herself on top of Michael to protect him if it came to that.  Hill’s gun wasn’t loaded – none of theirs were – but Hill might still try to hurt the unconscious man at her feet.  But whatever he was going to say or do next never came; Maggie opened her eyes in time to see the mayor – who’d snuck in from yet another unnoticed entrance to the building – deck Hill.

Reeling from the punch, Hill stumbled forward, fumbling his weapon.  Maggie dropped to the floor next to Michael, shielding him as the older, bearded man charged Hill.  “Put your hands up, get ‘em up,” he commanded, grabbing him by the shoulder.  “Get up!”

Ignoring what was going on around her, Maggie leaned over Michael, shaking him.  “Mike, c’mon, Mike.  Please wake up,” she begged quietly.

“You could always try kissin’ him.”  Maggie looked up and glared at Jake as he sauntered toward them, “I’m pretty sure he’d like that.”  Stopping at Michael’s feet, he tapped the bottom of his brother-in-law’s shoe with the toe of his own boot.  “Hey, c’mon, sleeping beauty, time to get up.”

Michael groaned and tried to push himself up into a sitting position, Maggie moving immediately to help.  “Ow,” he groaned, “Ow, ow, ow.”

“Oh, quit your complain’,” Jake grumbled, jerking his head toward Hill, whom his father had turned away from them, and was hustling into handcuffs.  “It’s just a bump on the head,” he emphasized, “No big deal.”

Maggie and Michael both looked offended at this remark, but then they seemed to catch his meaning.  Maggie’s mouth snapped shut, her lips curling into a frown as she swallowed her protest, and Michael heaved a sigh, muttering, “Guess we all can’t have a truck fall on us.”

“That’s Jake for you, Mike,” Eric said, joining the other three.  “Always wins in the injury department,” he complained, offering Michael a hand.  The younger man hesitated a second – no doubt weighing his loyalty to April against accepting his assistance, Eric thought – but then he took it, letting Eric help him to his feet.

“Pretty much,” Jake agreed, “Except for that time Heather got you in the nose playing football.  You talked like Elmer Fudd for a week.”

“How dare you wear that uniform,” Johnston demanded roughly as he forced Hill to turn around. 

Michael found himself facing his attacker, and was grateful that his brother-in-law had goaded him into doing so on his feet.  He knew he would have felt like an idiot – like a victim – if he’d still been lying on the ground, moaning about the goose egg that was forming on the back of his head.  This was confirmed for him as, smirking, Hill snarled, “It’s not a uniform, it’s a costume.  Half the towns we go through don’t even fly the flag.”

“And the things you said about the war – North Korea – it was all a lie?” Eric accused.

“Some of it we heard,” Hill shrugged, unrepentant, “Some of it we made up.  It’s anybody’s guess what’s really going on out there,” he finished, gesturing at the world outside the store’s walls.

“Well, whatever’s goin’ on out there,” Gray Anderson declared, turning Hill’s dismissive remark against him, “We still have laws in Jericho.  Tomorrow, I’m gonna let the town decide what to do with you.”  He glanced at Maggie then, including her in his threat when he added, “All of you.”

Johnston, though, shook his head.  “We can’t do that, Gray.”

“The hell we can’t!” Jericho’s mayor snapped, glaring at his predecessor.  “People need to know what we’re up against.”

“Not like this.”  Johnston’s voice rumbled soft and low in his chest, tinged with exhaustion, frustration, even a hint of defeat.  “It won’t work, not like this.”

Gray threw up his hands, clearly exasperated.  “Well, they’re gonna find out eventually –"

"Yeah, they will," Johnston interrupted, his voice raised.  "They will," he repeated, more quietly, "And by then the worst of it will be over.  But food's not enough," he argued, exhaling deeply.  "You said it yourself, without some X factor we don't make it through the winter.  Well, this is it," Johnston declared, glancing at his sons and Michael before fixing his gaze once again on Gray.  "People need faith as much as they need food.  And, you get to give it to 'em."

It was obvious from Gray's expression that he was considering the option he was being offered.  But he still wasn't convinced.   "Okay then, what the hell do we do with them?" he demanded, gesturing at Hill and then at Maggie.

"Them, we give a heroes exit," Johnston suggested, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to assuage a headache.  "Ooh-rah."

Gray frowned at Johnston and at Hill, whom Johnston still had a hold of, the imposter's arm twisted behind his back.  "You really think he's just gonna play along?"

Hill started to snarl, but Johnston tightened his grip, twisting a little harder.  "If he knows what's good for 'im.  They can take their chances out there, and we don't hafta –"

Whatever the former mayor was going to say though was cut off by the ringing of the bell that still hung on the front door of the grocery store.  Gray, Jake and Eric immediately drew their guns, training them on the front door, while Johnston thrust the barrel of his rifle up into Hill's shoulder blade – inches from his heart – gritting out, "Play along."

"Jake!" Stanley called out, scanning the darkened store for his friend.  He had the Davis brothers with him, and there was a marine that none of them had seen so far, walking between Stanley and Brett – they each had a good grip on one of the man's arms – with Zack following closely behind, carrying a set of radio equipment.  "You were right," Stanley informed the group, joining the semi-circle that had formed around Johnston and Hill.  "Found this guy hidin' in the field just off Mott Avenue, right outside the town line."

This marine wannabe really didn't look like a marine: he was short, balding, and still looked rather doughy despite the deprivations of the previous three months.  It was easy to understand why he was the one left behind to play division headquarters.   He was also obviously scared of Hill, yelping out, "Steve, it's not my fault," as he met the murderous glare of his supposed superior officer. 

"Aw, shuddup, Bradley," Hill growled.  He looked at Gray now, his expression smug.  "Fine, Mr. Mayor, we'll play along.  But you're the one who's gonna hafta keep this all a secret.  Good luck with that."

"Now, Gray," Johnston began, "We can do this –"

"Maybe we could've," the mayor interrupted, "Before Stanley went and brought the Davis kids into this," he reminded, shooting a dirty look in Stanley's direction.  "It was five of us, and now there's – there's eight of us who know what's goin' on –"

"Nine," Jake corrected with a shrug, "Mom already knows."

"We hafta tell April, too," Eric added, his tone insistent.

"Right," Gray scoffed, "I let you tell your wife, and then you'll wanna tell your girlfriend, too.  I don't think so."

"April needs to know.  She's runs the clinic, it's nearly our most important public resource.  She – she – needs to know that supplies aren't just around the corner.  And, Mary –"

"No way," Gray protested, shaking his head.  "You get to tell April and Mary, then Jake gets to tell Heather, and this one," he said, pointing at Michael, "Tells his buddies.  Stanley tells Bonnie and – and –"

"Mimi," Stanley supplied, nodding, "Yeah.  Yeah, you better believe I'm gonna tell 'em."

"And then all the Davises get to know, too, and suddenly half the town knows the truth about the X factor, and no way that stays a secret 'til spring," Gray predicted.  "This blows up, it blows up in my face, and you Greens can make it look like you're the good guys in all this.  Well, I'm tellin' you now, that's not happenin'."

"You're right, it's not gonna happen," Johnston retorted.  Hill glanced back over his shoulder, a sneer curling his lips, clearly enjoying the conflict he'd been more than happy to sow.  "Wipe that smirk off your face," Johnston growled.  "Mike, Zack, I think you two better take our play actin' friends in the back room, please."

"What – what for?" Gray demanded, though he took a step back so Zack could drop the communications equipment on the counter.

"We need to have a negotiation here, and we don't need an audience," Johnston informed his successor.  "Here, Zack," he said, handing the fifteen year old his rifle, before then turning his prisoner over to the young man.

"Stanley, over here," Jake instructed, cocking his head toward his brother-in-law.  "Here, Mike," he continued, offering him his gun.  Michael reached for the weapon, eyes wide as he met Jake's gaze.  He'd never used a gun – something he was sure Jake knew – and for a moment he worried that Jake would say so, but all he did was warn, "Safety's off."

"C'mon," Michael ordered, taking custody of Bradley from Stanley.  "Maggie, you first."

"Brett, you need to go with 'em," Gray decided, only to be cut off by Johnston.

"Brett stays," Johnston contradicted.  "We all have a stake in this, Gray, Zack and Michael, too, but Brett can represent his brother's interests and his own, and Jake –"

"Can have my proxy," Michael agreed, over his shoulder, before shoving Bradley into the stockroom and then following him in.

Johnston watched the door, waiting to see and hear it latch closed.  "Now, this is not some pissin' contest between you and me, Gray," he informed his former rival.  "You won," he reminded, "And now, you and I have the same objective – seein' this town survive, intact, 'til spring.  We all know what's happened here," he reminded, meeting each man's gaze in turn, Gray's last of all.  "And, let me tell you this: it's gonna be damn near impossible for all of us to go home to our families and keep this secret.  That's the kinda burden… it'd eat at anyone of us."

"Seems to me, you're gonna tell no matter what I say," Gray complained, his breath coming out in a frustrated puff.  "But what's to keep Gail from tellin' Marilyn Thom, or Heather from tellin' Sandy McVeigh, or Clyde Davis the whole damn town?  He's the newspaper editor, for Pete's sake."

"My dad's not gonna tell, not if he knows there's a good reason not to," Brett assured.

"And, I'll go with Brett and Zack to explain everything," Johnston offered, "Or you can go, Gray, if you prefer.  As for my family, we will take care of it, and Stanley will do the same with Bonnie and Mimi."

"We need to tell the town council, too," Eric interjected then.  "We've been negotiating over rations for days, ever since the airdrop.  We hafta work it out now, now that we know there's no rescue.  The council, they need to know why we have to stay conservative, stick to the calorie limit and," he continued, glancing at Stanley, "Work to reach an accord with the farmers.  Besides," he reminded, offering the mayor a tight smile, "We bring in the council, then we Greens can't double cross you, Gray."

"Okay," the mayor muttered, momentarily distracted.  "Okay, okay," he began again, his attention focused on Johnston.   "So I agree to do this your way, you're all gonna do somethin' my way.  Those refugees that Roger Hammond brought here, they hafta accept half rations until relief –"

"Half rations?" Jake repeated, incredulous.  "That's – that's a death sentence for fifty, sixty people!"

"You wanna have somethin' to eat in a month?" Gray demanded, "Food for your wife, your mom?  This is the price."

"Better to cut 'em off totally," Stanley argued.  "At least if they had to leave, they'd have a chance."

"But we do that, we lose our X factor," Johnston sighed.  "This – this is the only way."

Gray let out a humorless bark of laughter.  "Well, you know, like I used to tell Stevens, you know the deal's done when everybody feels a little bit screwed."



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
 
Friday, January 4, five years before the bombs


"I'm goin' with Mr. Green, revolver, aaa-and library," Andrew Lisinski informed his brother John, elbowing him gently in the side.

"Revolver's good," John agreed, "Goes with the badge and all. But lounge, not library."

"Wope, Daddy," Kyle interjected then, holding one of his Clue cards – the rope card – above his head for his father to see. "Unc'a Jake's a cowboy so he needs a wope fo' his lasso."

"Don't show your cards, Ky!" Rebekah screeched, "And don't be a dummy," she added, her tone making it quite clear that she considered herself to be one very put upon older sister. "They're talking 'bout how Uncle Jake would murder someone, they don't care he's a cowboy."

"Hey, Bub, don't call your brother a dummy," Andrew admonished.

"And?" Kerry prompted when it became apparent Andrew wasn't planning on addressing his daughter's spot on assessment of the situation.

"And?" Andrew parroted, his expression one of exaggerated puzzlement.

Kerry rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law.  "How about: Sorry, Bub, I shouldn't have made a bad joke about Uncle Jake being the murderer –"

"It's fine, Kerry," Jake interrupted.  He smiled at Rebekah, telling her, "It's just a joke, the kind that boys like."

"Boys have really stupid jokes," the six year old grumbled.

"Yeah, boy jokes are stuuuu-pid," her cousin Ali giggled, bouncing in her seat.

Once the cupcakes were frosted, Deborah and Mandy had sworn that all the food was prepped and now they just needed to wait for the rest of the family to arrive.  Rebekah had asked if they could play a game, and Heather, shooting Jake a questioning look had suggested Candy Land, Sorry, or Clue.  He'd countered with Twister, but Deborah had shut that down, laughing, "Not in front of my kids, not until you two have been married about five years."

"For these two, you better make it ten," Mandy had snickered. 

"Can't blame a guy for tryin'," Jake had shrugged, throwing them both a grin.  "So how 'bout Clue?" he'd suggested, "More of us can play that, right?  And, I can be Mr. Green, right?"

Mandy and Deborah had decided against playing, saying instead that they would offer counsel to their offspring as needed.  Heather had sent the kids into the dining room and then, taking Jake by the hand, had led him to the hall closet to retrieve the game.  He'd trapped her against the door after she'd triumphantly pulled the box free, kissing her deeply.  Finally, forced to surface for air, he'd asked, "Now, we should try and let one of them win, right?"

"Yes, if we can," she'd smiled, squeezing his hand.  "I always try to guess at least one card I have so I don't accidentally win."

The first game had lasted only fifteen minutes.  Ali, with her second guess, had solved the mystery, much to her older cousin's annoyance, though Rebekah had tried to be glad for her.  Jake had offered both girls and Kyle high fives, which had served to replace all bad feelings with happy giggles.  They had started a second game, and would have probably finished up already had they not been interrupted by Kerry's and John's arrival a half hour before, and then Andrew's twenty minutes later.

Once Jake and Andrew had been introduced – without incident – and she'd taken her next turn in the game, Heather had handed her cards to Kerry and excused herself to the bathroom.  Jake had tried to keep the game moving – he was pretty sure that if Rebekah could just get from the Hall to the Study, she'd win – but emboldened by their sister's absence, John and Andrew had begun throwing out accusations that all started with "Mr. Green".

"Boy jokes are really stupid," Kerry told her nieces, sticking her tongue out at her husband and brother-in-law.  "And you two better watch it, or Heather's gonna...."  She paused a second and then mouthed, "Kill you."  Shaking her head, Kerry returned her attention to the game.  "Okay, Kyle, I think it's your turn," she prompted.

The little boy rolled a six, which got him into the Conservatory.  Andrew, looking somewhat chastened, picked his son up and then seated himself with Kyle on his lap.  "Whaddya gonna guess, kiddo?" Andrew asked, kissing the top of the little boy's head.

Kyle guessed Professor Plum, Candlestick, and Conservatory, which his cousin Ali was able to disprove.  Rebekah's turn was next and she made it into the Study and won the game, correctly guessing that Colonel Mustard had done it with the Knife.  "Good job!" Jake grinned, congratulating her with another high five.

Mandy came into the dining room then, carrying baby Hannah who was just up from her nap.  "Okay, if you're all done with the game, it needs to get put it away," she told the kids. And then you can go downstairs and watch a video.  Finding Nemo?" she suggested.

"Just keep swimming!" Kerry teased.  "So, we're holding dinner for a while, I take it?"

"Tommy can't leave the station until seven after all," Mandy explained.  "Traffic's a mess –"

"Traffic sucks," Michael grumbled, entering the dining room from the kitchen, followed by his father and sister.  "Took twenty minutes just to get home from the rink!"

"Bad wreck on the freeway," Joe Lisinski confirmed.  He made a grab for his granddaughter, Ali, as she moved past him with her cousins, heading for the family room in the basement.  The little girl shrieked with glee – this was Grandpa Joe's usual game – dodging her grandfather, who settled for swinging his grandson up into his arms to blow raspberries on his belly.

"Whoa, careful," Heather admonished, maneuvering first around her father and then her nieces.  She was carrying a plate of cheese and crackers and she lifted it above her head for safety.   Jake was still sitting at the table, observing the activity all around him with some amusement.  Reaching him, Heather held out her hand, which he accepted, pulling himself up out of his chair and allowing her to lead him into the living room.

"Hors d'oeuvres," she called out, "Though Deb's bringing the real junk food."  With that, she placed the plate on the coffee table, shoved Jake gently to a seat on the loveseat, climbed onto his lap, and proceeded to kiss him quite thoroughly.

Although her brothers were at least fifteen seconds behind Heather, they arrived in the living room – along with their father – in plenty of time to get a good show.  With the three Lisinski wives following behind, there was nearly a pile-up in the arch the separated the living and dining rooms when Michael, John and Andrew came to a very sudden stop, gaping at their sister and her fiancé.

"Ew, Dad!" Michael protested, "Aren't you going to make this stop?"

"Yeah, that's – that's against house rules," John insisted.

Deborah threaded her way between her husband and father-in-law and entered the living room, depositing a bowl of potato chips and a tub of bacon ranch dip on the coffee table.  She shook her head at the couple.  "You two," she complained fondly.

Joe Lisinski knew that his sons believed that Heather was his favorite child, and while it wasn't true – not really – it was true that his relationship with his daughter was different from that with his sons.  There were times when she was completely unfathomable to him, but more often he felt that he understood Heather the best of all his children.  And this was one of those times.  Her brothers' teasing over her relationship with Jake, the fact that they had treated her falling in love as if it were a joke, their idle threats to interrogate him – these things had all worn on Heather, and she certainly wasn't above getting a little payback.  "I'm not seeing anything I haven't walked in on before in this house, Andy-Deb-Mandy-John-Kerry," Joe responded, "And," he continued, catching his daughter's eye, "I think your sister might be trying to torture you all, just a little bit."

"I feel so used," Jake murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear, nuzzling Heather's ear.

Her not entirely sincere, "Sorry," was swallowed up in a squeal as Jake trapped her in his embrace, one arm catching her under her knees so that she was cradled against his chest.

"Well, feel free to use me like that any time you want, babe," he teased, kissing the tip of her nose.

"If Mom were here, she'd say 'engaged is not married'," Andrew reminded, moving to join his wife on the full- sized sofa opposite the loveseat.

A hint of grief flitted across her father's face, reminding Heather that he was still very much in mourning for her mother.  "That she would," Joe agreed, clearing his throat.  "But then again, Heather and Jake aren't planning to be engaged quite as long as the rest of you managed to be, and your mother always relaxed once there was a wedding in sight."

"You already have a wedding date?" Mandy asked, surprised.  She'd settled herself, along with baby Hannah, in the recliner that had been a Father's Day present to Joe nearly fifteen years before.  "Not that I don't think that's a good idea…."

"We have a wedding month," Heather corrected quickly.  "Date to follow.  But we're getting married in July," she explained.

John had started to move toward the loveseat, but Kerry had intercepted him, and now they were ensconced on the opposite end of the sofa from Andrew and Deborah.  He stared at his sister and her intended, a horrified expression creeping onto his face.  "Are you – are you preg – pregnant?" he stammered out.

"Oh, Johnny," Kerry murmured, pressing one hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle or a rebuke, Jake wasn't sure which.

"No!" Heather squeaked indignantly, reacting a mere half second after her sister-in-law.  She pulled free enough of Jake that she could dig around behind him, extracting a throw pillow that she immediately chucked across the living room at her brother.  He took evasive action, but Jake still silently admired the accuracy of her aim.  "That – that doesn't even make sense," she sniffed, a soft blush suffusing her cheeks.  "We're gonna get married in seven months when I'd be extremely pregnant?"

"Oh, right," John sighed, nodding, "Right.  Sorry."

But any sense of relief he felt was immediately torpedoed by Jake who, after catching Heather's attention by lacing their fingers together, said, "Hey, I told you we should get married sooner."

Heather's brothers all emitted strangled sounds, though her father and sisters-in-law seemed to see the humor in the situation, chuckling at John's, Andrew's and Michael's reactions.  Heather giggling almost uncontrollably, settled back into Jake's always open embrace.  "I – I've nev – never seen – John – John's eyes bug – bug out like that," she gasped.  Twisting around, she met Jake's gaze, eyes dancing.  She pressed a kiss to his jaw, whispering, "Thank you."

"This isn't funny," John protested.

"It kinda is," Heather countered.  "I mean, Jake would like to get married sooner – heck, elope, if I'd go for it – but I don't think he realized that everyone, including my brother," she emphasized, snorting, "Would just assume that meant I was pregnant."

"Which she isn't," Jake assured.  "And, I'm on board for the big wedding in July," he announced.  "You went to the bathroom on New Year's, and my Mom and April both took the opportunity to smack me and tell me in no uncertain terms that I was to drop it," he informed Heather, squeezing her hand.  "I'm supposed to let you enjoy being a bride."

"Awww!" Heather smiled, "That's why I love your Mom and April.  And you know, I only get to be a bride once," she reminded, playing with his fingers.  "I would like to enjoy it.  Be all girlie."

"Well, I just happen to love your girlie side," Jake grinned, "So that works.  Plus, we get married in July, I can plan as long of a honeymoon as I want."

"I do have to be back at work in mid-August," Heather chuckled, "Just keep that in mind."

Deborah had her suspicions of where this was heading, and a definite desire to cut them off at the pass.  "Okay," she said, leaning forward to grab a couple of crackers and slices of cheese.  "Before you two get lost in each other's eyes again….  Heather," she continued a few seconds later, after her sister-in-law had turned to look at her, her expression sheepish, "You never did tell us how Jake proposed…."

"Oooh, yeah, this I want to hear," Mandy practically sang.

Michael groaned, but Joe's gentle, "Go ahead, sweetheart," was enough to convince Heather to begin.

"Okay, well, it really starts with me going back to Kansas on New Year's Eve," Heather began.  "It's a three, three and half hour drive from the airport to Jericho –"

"Wait a minute," John interrupted her then.  "So when Heather came home for Uncle Burt's funeral, and then for Christmas, you drove her to the airport, three and a half hours, and then turned around and drove home?"  John's brow was furrowed as he reached for a couple of chips and then dipped them.  "That's twelve, thirteen hours each trip."

Kerry poked him in the side, stealing a chip.  "So, what?  You wouldn't drive twelve hours to and from the airport for me?" she teased.

"No, for you I would," John answered, "But you're probably the only one."  The look he gave Jake then was one of grudging approval.  "Okay, what I think I hear you sayin' is you love my sister."

"Yeah, guess that's the part I wasn't being clear on, huh?" Jake joked.  He accepted the cheese and cracker sandwich that Heather handed him, flashing her a quick smile.  "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome," Heather replied, adding teasingly, "And sure it ends up being twelve hours, but you get to spend six of them with me."

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," Jake defended, holding both hands up in a show of surrender.

"So, anyway, my plane landed at like five thirty, and it takes a little bit to get out of the airport and everything.  Plus we had to stop for dinner on the way…. So it was almost nine thirty before we got home to Jericho," Heather told them.  "There were New Year's celebrations downtown, but we were tired, so we decided to just go out to the ranch."

"This is your ranch?" Andrew asked.

Jake nodded.  "My family's – well, my grandpa's."

"And, Gramps was there," Heather said, continuing the story.  "So we were hanging out, waiting for midnight….and then it was midnight, and we had champagne.  Gramps went to bed, and Jake was gonna take me home, but you know, I was tired, plus I'd had alcohol, so…." Heather looked around the room, checking the expressions of her family.  None of them looked freaked out by this admission, not even her father, so she plunged ahead, admitting with a shrug, "I fell asleep in the family room." 

"Me too," Jake added, catching Heather's hand.

"Well, the next morning, Gramps wasn't very happy about that," Heather declared with a nervous chuckle.  She glanced at Jake then, and he was pretty sure he could read an apology in her eyes – as if he would object to her editing of events, especially for this audience!

"Yeah, he pretty much ripped me a new one," Jake snorted.  He massaged the back of her hand with his thumb, hoping to take away any sting she might feel at his next words.  "Heather, he apologizes to – me, he would've grounded if he could've."

The Lisinskis all laughed appreciatively.  Joe, sounding relieved to Jake's ear, added, "I think your grandfather and Heather's mother would have gotten along quite well."

"I think Gramps and Andy would get along just fine, too," Jake joked.

"So, that's when you proposed?" Deborah prompted, "With your grandfather there and everything?"

"Not exactly," Heather replied for Jake.  "And, believe it or not, that was all just background, so you'd know why I was at the ranch at seven in the morning."  Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she glanced up at her fiancé then, their gazes locking for a moment in silent communication.  "So, I decided I better leave," she told her family, offering a wry grin as she glanced around the room.  "And Jake really didn't want me to, so finally I had to ask Gramps if he would drive –"

"You didn't need to leave," he interrupted, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.  "I didn't want you to have to leave, ever.  I just – I just think we should be together, in the same place, as much as possible," Jake finished.

"Awww!" Deborah, Mandy and Kerry crooned in unison, Mandy adding, giggling, "I still don't know how you proposed Jake, but I certainly wouldn't have turned you down!"

"And she can get away with saying that 'cause Tommy's not here," Deborah teased. 

"Oh, in another life, I'm tellin' ya," Mandy sighed, grinning at Jake. 

Heather shook her head at her sister-in-law, then caught Jake's eye, saying, "Okay, I'm gonna sound like a killjoy here, but what about when we hafta go to work?"

"Well, yeah we have to go to work," Jake answered with a shrug. "Gainfully employed," he reminded, "I know what's on your requirements list."

"Requirements list?" Kerry inquired, frowning absently.  "I should be afraid to ask," she chuckled, "And yet I'm asking."

"Somehow, somewhere along the line, Jake got the impression that I have a list of sixty, seventy, qualifications to be my boyfriend," Heather explained, fighting a giggle.

Jake snorted, "Yeah, where did that idea come from?  And the Heather husband requirements list has gotta be three times as long, right?"

"Well, yeah," she confirmed, kissing him on the cheek, "But you're still good.  So, where was I?" Heather asked a few seconds later.

"You were asking 'Gramps' to drive you home, I think," Deborah prompted.

"Right," Heather agreed.  "So he was gonna take me home.  I mean, we were in the truck and everything, and then Jake comes running out of the house, no shoes, chases down the truck, pounding on the side, shouting stop…."

"And?" Andrew demanded when she didn't continue.

"He walked around the truck to the passenger side, opened my door, and he says…. 'Will you … go for a walk with me?'"

With the exception of baby Hannah, who was happily engaged in sucking on her fist, all the Lisinskis let out aggravated groans.  "Heather," Joe admonished.

"What?" his daughter returned. She was clearly enjoying herself.  "That's what he said," she insisted, Jake's hand cradled in both of hers.  "'Will you go for a walk with me, check out the view from the water tower.  I have a question I need to ask.'"

"Wait a minute," Michael said, "You proposed on a water tower?  What is that, some sorta weird cowboy custom?" he snickered.

"Actually, it's where Heather told me to propose – if I ever wanted to propose – on our technical second date," Jake replied, smirking softly at his fiancée.

Heather groaned, and blushing, brushed a quick kiss across Jake's mouth, scolding, "You weren't supposed to tell them that minor detail."

"My next question has two – three – no, two, I think, parts," Deborah announced, frowning to herself as she tried to work out all that she wanted to ask.  "And a comment.  You two have the weirdest, most convoluted proposal story, ever.  I just thought you should know that."

"It really is," Heather agreed, her tone sympathetic.  "I lied to our flight attendants, between Wichita and Chicago, told them he proposed at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.  They loved it.  But family gets the real story," she insisted, squeezing Jake's hand.

Or close enough to the real version, Jake thought, returning the squeeze.  And a version that would allow him to leave Buffalo unmaimed and still engaged.

Deborah shook her head as if to clear it, and continued.  "First question – and now I think there's three – why was your second date on – at – whatever – a water tower?  Two, what is a technical date?  And, third, Heather, why?  Really, that's the question: why?"

Jake and Heather looked at each other.  "I can take one and two, probably," he shrugged, "But three's all yours."

"Right," she agreed, turning back to face her sister-in-law.  "Well, why what?   Why do I like the water tower, or why did I tell –"

"Why did you tell Jake – on your second date – where he should propose?" Deborah clarified.  "It's … presumptuous."

"Yeah, it should have sent him running, screaming, for the hills," Mandy interjected.

Heather glanced at Jake again.  He smiled at her sympathetically, and continued to stroke the small of her back with one hand, but didn't say anything.  There was a glint of interest in his eye too, and she knew that he was curious as to how she was going to answer this question, that really, got to the very heart of their relationship. 

"We were on top of the water tower," Heather began, "It's like  forty, fifty feet up, so you know, he'd hafta climb down before he ran, and that would have left me up there, which Jake's too much of a gentleman to do."  She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as she screwed up her courage to continue.  "That's not the serious answer, so hold on," Heather said, cutting off the protests from her sisters-in-law. 

"We've – we've been super honest with one another, since we met, really.  Frighteningly honest, nothing's off limits," Heather told her family.  Her voice and expression were strained, and that was enough to keep their questions and comments at bay.  Heather inhaled slowly, through her teeth, trying to steady herself, trying to figure out what she should say – how she should say it – next.  She felt almost as if she were betraying a confidence, and only the steady pressure of Jake's hand on her back convinced her that it was okay to proceed. 

"And, I know that it sounds like a weird topic of conversation for a second date – though it was pretty in line with what we talked about on our first date – but I ended up telling Jake about the whole Mark Metzger thing – debacle –" she corrected herself, "So that introduced the topic of marriage proposals, and somehow I ended up saying that he'd picked a great place to not propose to me."

"You know, we know each other pretty well," Heather continued, pointing at Jake and then herself, "Even if we've only known each other for three months.  We talk.  A lot.    And he talks too, it's not just me," she told her family, chuckling along with them.  "And, yeah," she declared, glancing at Mandy and then Deborah, "Jake has seen me with a clipboard, so he knows I can be a little bit of a control freak –"

"Just one of the things that makes you good at your job," Jake defended.

Heather laughed, grinning at Jake.  "Well, thank you for that," she told him, "Though I really can be a control freak.  And, I can lose it, which Jake has seen.  I mean, I really flipped out.  And we've had the big fight, but more importantly, we got past it.  So, it’s not all romance and roses –"

"And dates to other states," Michael threw in.

"Right, out of state dates," Heather confirmed.

"Diamond earrings," Kerry supplied.

Andrew groaned at that.  "Ouch, Ker.  You just had to bring that up, huh?"

Deborah patted her husband on the shoulder.  "The new vacuum cleaner is way better than the old one, honey," she assured him.

"But remember her birthday is coming up," Kerry said.  "Resist the appliance urge."

"Thanks for the advice," Andrew returned dryly. 

"Have I sufficiently answered 'why'?" Heather asked then.

"I…I really don't know," Deborah laughed.  "But obviously you guys made it to your third date, and to a proposal, so I guess the 'why' isn’t so important."

"Think that means I'm up," Jake decided.

"You don't have to," Heather argued, but he stopped her with a quick kiss.

"I talk," he teased.  "So, question two," Jake began, looking at Deborah.  "The important thing is, what's not a date.  Just hanging out, or – more importantly – having dinner with Gramps.  Actually having dinner with any fam –"

"But we had dinner with Gramps that night," Heather interrupted.  "And that was definitely a date."

"We went to Niagara Falls today, had lunch – that was a date.  Tonight we're hanging out with family, not a date," Jake argued.  "Having dinner with Gramps is having dinner with Gramps.  Going out to the water tower, that was a date."

"What about when we have a double date with April and Eric," Heather countered.  "Or John and Kerry," she added, gesturing at her brother and sister-in-law.

"Oh, good idea," Kerry enthused.  "Dinner, tomorrow night.  We're buying."

"We are?" John muttered, quickly switching to, "Sounds fun!" when his wife elbowed him in the side.

"So I'm rather interested in question one, myself," Joe informed Jake, reaching for a piece of cheese. 

"Right," Jake acknowledged, meeting his future father-in-law's eye.  "Well, the water tower isn't just a water tower – really, it's an astronomical observation deck.  See, when my grandparents got married, and they were building their house – the water tower was for the house – Gramps designed it with the observation deck for Grams because she was an amateur astronomer," he explained.

"I mean, it's not like she could go to college – her parents couldn’t afford that, not during the Great Depression and the dust bowl, she was a Kansas farm girl after all.  But she loved lookin' at the stars.  She even built her own telescope while Gramps was in Europe during World War Two," Jake told them.  "And they built a couple more together after they got married."

"After my great-grandmother died, my grandparents moved into the ranch house, and they ended up taking down the little house," Jake continued, "An unoccupied building just becomes a nuisance after a while. But Gramps insisted on leaving the water tower up so Grams could look at the stars whenever she wanted."

"Jake told me that story when he was giving me a tour of the ranch, the first time I was out there," Heather added, explaining, "I mean, we were up on the water tower, so I could get a view of the place…. Anyway, when he asked me if I wanted to go stargazing for our second date, I of course jumped at the chance."

"She actually did kinda bounce a little," Jake confirmed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"You musta been in nerd-vana, Heth," Andrew teased, "And you probably thought that was adorable," he guessed, giving her fiancé an appraising look.

Jake shrugged off his future brother-in-law's razzing, correcting him.  "I believe she prefers the term 'geek', and it’s not like I can't have a geeky moment of my own," he argued. "I do have a science degree, and when I was a kid, I spent most of my summer break at the ranch.  Grams had us all up on the water tower stargazing once a week at least."

Laughing softly, Heather kissed Jake on the cheek, saying, "Thank you, but the great bottle rocket experiment notwithstanding, I think we both know that I am the bigger geek in this relationship."

"Hey, my data was rock solid," he reminded, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger, "And, I like your geeky side."

"So that was your second date?" Michael asked, not waiting for their answer.  "Cheap date."

"It was not," Heather grumbled, rolling her eyes at her brother.  "I mean, sure, Jake didn't spend gobs of money, but he spent a lot of time making sure everything was perfect, and it was.  When we got out there that night, it was all set up with everything we needed," she insisted, flinging her arms wide to emphasize her point.  "The telescope, camp chairs, a radio, sleeping bags –"

"Excuse me, sleeping bags?"  John interrupted.

Get your minds out of the gutter," Heather returned, her tone making it clear that her brothers had better not continue this particular line of questioning.  "They were for padding when we lay down on the deck to look up at the stars.  It was perfect," she repeated, "Absolutely perfect."

"Whoa, John," Michael snickered, "You just got teacher voiced."

"That wasn't just a teacher voice, that was channeling Sister Roberta the Wretched," Andrew muttered, eyeing his sister suspiciously.  "That was freaky."

"I liked Sister Roberta," Heather argued.

"And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead or of nuns," Joe reminded his son, "And especially not dead nuns."

"Yeah, you'll burn in hell for that, Andy," Kerry joked.

"I told you they were scarred by their Catholic educations," Heather said, leaning against Jake.  "I'm the only one who emerged unscathed."

He nodded.  "Yeah, but don't your kids go to Catholic school?" Jake asked looking between Deborah and Mandy.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Mandy returned, chuckling.

"Well, obviously you two are engaged," Deborah began, hoping to steer the conversation back to the proposal.  "I mean, you've got that shiny ring."

Heather looked down at her hand, smiling and wiggling her finger so she could see the star in the stone.  "The ring came a little later," she told her sister-in-law, looking up.  "I made Jake put on shoes, and then we headed out to the water tower –"

"She giggled the entire way," Jake threw in.

"I was nervous!" Heather protested.

"And you being nervous was making me nervous," Jake complained.

The Lisinskis all laughed softly at their exchange, John telling Heather, "That's not cool, sis."

"What?  It wasn't her fault, she was nervous, Johnny," Kerry defended.

"Yeah, but I don't know if I coulda proposed to you if you'd been laughin' at me for…." John glanced at Jake.

"Ten minutes," his future brother-in-law supplied.

"Ten minutes!" John repeated, while Andrew shook his head, agreeing, "Not cool, Heth."

"I was nervous!" she protested, looking around the room at the censuring gazes of her brothers, the amused expressions of their wives, her father's kind smile.  Finally Heather glanced sideways at Jake.  "I'm sorry – sorry I got nervous and then made you nervous," she apologized, puckering her lips at him.

"Apology accepted," he returned easily, cupping her face with both hands and then kissing her. 

"So… then you were at the water tower," Mandy prodded, "And…?"

"We climbed up," Heather answered, "And, well, it was flurrying – I don't think I mentioned that before – but there were flakes in the air, and it was colder and a little bit heavier at the top which I wasn't really expecting, and …." She paused, glancing first at Jake and then her family.  "Jake told me he loved me, and then … I knew when he asked me to go for that walk that he was probably going to –"

"Probably?" Jake interjected, his tone both amused and incredulous.  "You said it was nerve-wracking to know what was coming."

Licking her lips, Heather looked sideways at Jake, their gazes locking.  "No, you're right, 'probably' was the wrong word," she assured him.  "I knew – I knew you were going to ask me to marry you, and I knew I was gonna say 'yes'.  I just …. What you said –"  

Heather's eyes filled then, but she was smiling, and Jake raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles, encouraging her to continue.  Blinking, she broke eye contact and turned to face her family.  "I knew I was gonna marry him," she repeated, "But what he said – and I can't remember the words exactly, just the feeling, how they – he – made me feel.  And I wanted to marry him a hundred times as much as before."

"You really think we're gonna think your cowboy, rodeo-winning, pilot, federal agent husband-to-be is a wuss if you tell us what he said when he proposed, Heth?" Andrew snorted.

"No," she denied, "I just – I just really can't."

"Well, I pretty much said that I couldn't imagine life without her," Jake explained slowly.  "That I didn't want to imagine life without her, because – because it would – would just suck.  I said it a little differently, I think," he admitted, looking at Heather, who nodded a silent confirmation. 

"You said a few other things, too," she added, her voice rumbling with emotion, "But that was the gist."

"And, just for the record," Jake continued a long moment later, "It's been ten years at least since I was in a rodeo, so if I tried it now I'd probably end up killing myself."

"Please don't do that," Heather ordered, wrapping her arm around his and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Just don't tell the kids you're not a cowboy," Deborah warned, "It'd break my little Ky guy's heart."

Jake grinned, promising, "I won't.  And, you guys come out to Kansas, I'll even find a hat, maybe some chaps, so I can pass Rebekah's inspection."

"Thank you," Deborah returned, smiling.  "And not that you need it," she continued, reaching for her husband's hand, "But you definitely have the Sycamore Street Lisinskis' blessing."

Andrew nodded.  "Yeah, I guess you can marry my little sister."  He started to get up from the sofa, adding, "And on that note, I think I'm gonna grab a beer –"

"Grab a beer and start the barbeque," his wife instructed, glancing at Mandy.  "I think we've stalled enough, right?"

"That movie's not gonna hold the kids much longer, and Tommy's not gonna object if he gets here and everything's ready," Mandy assured.  "And if we have to start without him…" she shrugged, "Oh well."

"Isn't the first time I've been stuck covering for Tommy," Andrew joked.  "John, Jake," he continued, looking between the two men, "You comin'?"


* * * * * * * * *

"I told him to say he'd had a seizure and knocked the lamp over," Jake explained to his future brothers-in-law, chuckling and shaking his head, "But Eric totally cracked under the pressure.  I coulda killed him," he finished, taking a sip of his beer.

"Aw, man, I feel ya," Andrew insisted, laughing along with Jake.  "This lot's never listened to me like they should've," he accused mildly, pointing a set of tongs at John, who rolled his eyes.  "Though, I guess it's different with twins, right?"

Jake nodded.  "Yeah, I'm three minutes older.  It's not like our parents ever left me in charge."

"I was left in charge all the time," Andrew returned, "Doesn't mean they did what I told 'em."

The back door opened then and Michael stepped out onto the deck followed closely by a man that Jake would have recognized as Tommy Lisinski even if he'd never seen his picture.  The Lisinski brothers all looked very much alike, though Tommy had an inch or two on the rest of them, while Andrew and John both had ten pounds on Tommy.

"Glad you could join us, Tommy," Andrew greeted his brother.  "This is Jake," he introduced, tilting his head toward his sister's fiancé.  "Jake, meet Tommy."

Tommy was carrying two beers, but he handed one off to Michael, then offered Jake his hand.  "Nice to meetcha."  Taking a drink, he studied Jake silently – appraisingly – then glanced at his older brother, joking, "You getting a lotta good barbeque advice from a real cowboy, huh?"

"C'mon, Tommy," Andrew admonished, turning a bratwurst.  "Jake's cool."  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his youngest brother take a swig from the bottle Tommy had given him, and he shook his head.  "Mike –" Andrew began, his voice terse.  He stopped himself, and settled for advising, "Just don't let Dad or Deb see, okay?"

"Oh, give 'im a break, Andy," Tommy argued gruffly.  "It's just a beer, and it's not like we're leavin' the property."

"And Dad would've given you or me hell for the same thing," Andrew reminded.  He looked at Jake.  "Heather went so easy on Dad when she was a teenager, he completely let down his guard and Mike can basically get away with murder now.  Though," he continued, frowning softly as he glanced between Michael and Jake, "You don't have to arrest him or something?"

"Sorry," Jake told him, shrugging.  "I'm not on the clock, and alcohol's not really in my job description.  I'm DEA, that's ATF," he explained, "And even the ATF's more worried about illegal trafficking and whether all the right taxes have been paid."  Jake took a drink, and then added, "Besides, I try to avoid arresting anybody for something I've done myself.  But," he finished, glancing at Michael, "Don't let Heather see either."

"Well, I'm not an idiot," Michael huffed softly.

"So – just curious – what is in your job description?" John asked, leaning against the porch railing, his legs crossed.

"Mostly it's about cutting off as much of the illegal drug supply as possible," Jake replied.  It was vague and truthful, and suited his purposes well enough.  It would be nice if he could be friends with Heather's brothers, but he was willing to settle for them not hating his guts or worse, trying to talk her out of marrying him.  "I don't really care 'bout the sixteen, eighteen year old kid smokin' a joint, but it is my job to make it as hard as possible for him to get that joint."

"Why're you all looking at me?" Michael demanded a few seconds later.  His brothers and Jake were in fact all watching him, making Michael nervous, and he took a big gulp of his beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  "I don't – I've never even seen a joint – in person – let alone smoked one," he admitted.

"Keep it that way," Tommy advised, "So you can keep your scholarship."

"Yeah, those drug screenings really are random," John reminded.

"And, Jake, talk to me in fifteen years," Andrew snorted, cutting open one of the steaks to check it.  "After you have kids, we'll see whether or not you care who's smokin' and drinkin'."

Jake couldn't help but think it would probably be more than fifteen years before he'd be worrying about his teenaged children getting drunk or worse, but he wasn't going to quibble with any Lisinski male who assumed fatherhood was in his future.
 
The subject of children had come up again that afternoon, at the end of lunch, when Jake had caught Heather watching a young family settle in at the next table.  "Just thinking ahead," she'd told him, blushing, as they had made their way out of the restaurant.  "Those kids were adorable, and the parents were really good with them."

"Yeah," he had agreed, "But there were three of 'em.  And I don't think that sorta thing is gonna come natural to me."

"That little boy was six or seven," Heather had argued, stepping through the door he'd held open for her.  "I'm sure that guy didn't know what he was doin' back when that boy was born – he figured it out, and you will, too," she'd assured, moving out of the way of an elderly couple who had been entering the restaurant.  She'd tugged on his hand and Jake had stepped close enough that she was able to give him a quick kiss.  "You're very, very good at figuring things out," she'd flirted, playing with his fingers.

"Yeah, okay," Jake had agreed, fighting a grin.  "I mean, if Stanley can do it, how hard can it be?  But, three kids?"

"Personally, I think I could handle four or five," Heather had confessed.  "Just because – because of my family.  But I'm willing to compromise," she'd quickly backpedaled, no doubt in reaction to his stunned expression.  "And say at least two, but maybe three?  And, we're still talking three or four years from now, Jake," she'd reminded.  "At least."

He'd thought about it for a moment before pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the tip of her nose.  "Deal," he'd sighed softly, offering her a lopsided grin.  "Long as you're there with me, having three kids probably won't kill me."

"I'm not saying I wouldn't bust 'em, just not arrest 'em," Jake told his future brother-in-law, chuckling.  He tipped back his beer bottle, thinking for the first time in a long time of the weekend when his father had had him arrested, or at least had left him cooling his heels in a holding cell at the sheriff's station.  He'd hated Johnston then – and Jake certainly hadn't been his father's favorite person at that point, either – but now he could at least acknowledge to himself that his father had very likely done him a favor.  It was an important moment in his life – perhaps a pivotal one – just as talking to the DEA recruiter had been.  It was all tied together, and it had all led to where he was now, standing on a porch in Buffalo, New York, trying to make friends with the brothers of the woman he loved.
 
Swallowing, Jake coughed softly, declaring, "Though if I'm lucky, our kids will all take after Heather, and it won't even be an issue."

"Dream on, hon," Heather laughed, stepping out of the house, pulling the door closed behind her.  "And, why are you guys talking about our future offspring?" she asked, casting a suspicious eye over each of her brothers.  "I don't think I'm comfortable with that."  She held a package of hot dogs out to Andrew.  "Deb and Kyle had a little negotiation, and this is what he wants to eat."

Jake, taking advantage of Heather's momentary distraction, caught Michael's eye and gestured at him to hide his beer.  Michael looked around, not sure where to put the bottle, and ended up shoving it into John's free hand.  "We brought the good stuff," John complained to Andrew while also shooting a dirty look at his little brother.  "And your kid wants to eat, uh –"

"A chicken hot dog," Heather supplied, moving across the small space to join Jake.  "Deb says to cook two of 'em."

She reached for Jake's beer bottle, but he evaded her, holding it above his head.  "Uh-uh, I don't think so.  You don't even like beer."

"I like beer with pizza," she argued, standing on tiptoe and leaning against Jake's chest, even though she knew she had no chance of getting the bottle from him.

"We're not having pizza, and I don't think you're gonna really like beer until they make it coffee flavored."

"Aw, man, Heth," Andrew said over his shoulder, "Does he have your number, or what?"

"Fine," Heather pouted, giving up and dropping back down.  Jake brushed a kiss across her mouth, pulling her back against him after she'd turned around.

"You want this one, Heth?" John asked, holding up the bottle Michael had foisted upon him.  He glanced at his younger brother, smirking and claiming, "I've got an extra."

Her expression puzzled, Heather turned down the offer with a wave.  "No thanks.  I just wanted one little sip of Jake's," she insisted, throwing her fiancé a beseeching look, "Not a whole a beer."

"You'll survive," he assured.

"So, what about Ali and Bub?" Andrew asked, holding up the hot dog package.  "Should I do a few for them?"

"Nope," Heather returned, a small shiver running through her.  She'd stepped out of the house without a coat, and while it wasn't snowing it was still quite cold.  Jake set his bottle on the railing and then wrapped his arms around her, folding his hands over her middle.  "Ali says she loves steak –"

"That's my girl," Tommy interjected with a proud chuckle.

"And, when I said I was having bratwurst, Bekah said she was too," Heather bragged, grinning smugly. 

"Well, you are her hero," Andrew returned, rolling his eyes.  "If I had a buck for each time I've heard 'Auntie Heather says…' I'd be richer than Jake," he teased.  "Maybe."

"Andy," Heather grumbled, whatever else she was planning on saying dying on her lips when Jake pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

"It's okay, babe," he murmured, "I can take a joke."

"Sure," she acknowledged, clearly unwillingly. Heather's narrow gaze drifted over her brothers, softening when she finally glanced up at her fiancé.  "So, why again, were you discussing our future children?" she demanded.  "And you do know," she continued, turning in Jake's embrace so she could wrap her arms around his neck, "You do not have to answer their questions, especially about that."

"We were actually talking about my job," Jake informed her, "And somehow kids came up. Which," Jake paused a moment, frowning to himself, "Happens more than you'd think," he decided, running the fingers of one hand through her hair.

"Whaddya mean?" Heather asked, giggling nervously.  "Jake?"

He looked past her for a moment, at her brothers, but with the exception of Tommy, they all averted their eyes, John even going so far as to join Andrew at the grill, complaining, "Jeez, Andy, have you heard of medium rare?  Some of us like it that way."

"Babe, you're good with kids," Jake said quietly, "You actually attract small children to you… people notice and … they point it out to me, just in case I was unaware." He stopped again, contemplating her face and the worry, acceptance, the love, he found in her expression.  Sure, Andrew had made a joke about their future children, but Jake had been wrestling with his thoughts on this matter since their walk back to the car after lunch six or seven hours before.  He'd asked Heather to marry him because he loved her, and couldn't imagine life without her.  But he also couldn't imagine Heather without kids – their life together without children, eventually, in the mix.  It was strange and wonderful and scary all rolled into one, and he sure as hell didn't know how to talk to her about it in front of her brothers.

"You're good with kids, too," Heather told him.  "The ones inside sure all like you," she reminded, cocking her head toward the house and smiling at him.

"I like them, too," Jake assured, kissing her gently before urging her to turn back around.  "You know," he began, raising his voice so that her brothers were forced back into the conversation.  "Everyone talks to me about the kids we're gonna have.  Gramps, my mom, your dad –"

"Dad?" Andrew repeated, chuckling, "Really?"

"Hey," Jake shrugged, wrapping one arm around Heather's shoulders, "You threatened me with drunk teenagers, your dad thinks I wouldn't enjoy finding out my daughter's marrying some guy I've never met.  I agreed with him on that, so, you know, we're here."

Heather was a little amazed that Jake was talking about this – and to her brothers! – but she also recognized that it was somewhat of a performance.  She'd come to realize that he had a public face – a persona – that was still Jake, just a little more friendly and gregarious.  Public Jake came out in social situations, like the Christmas parties they had recently attended.  It was, she thought, a kind of armor that allowed him to guard and protect the part of himself that he only shared with those he loved best, like her.  Still, he was making the effort to get to know her brothers, to befriend them, and she was grateful that he would do so for her.

"People – people don't talk to me about that," she told him, laying her left hand – her engagement ring displayed to all -- on his arm.  "I mean, they tell me I'm gonna marry you – they've been telling me that since we started dating –"

"And you are gonna marry me," he reminded with a grin.

"I most definitely am," Heather agreed, catching his eye and returning his smile.  "But people don't mention kids.  To me."

"Your boss," Jake told her.

"Mrs. McVeigh?" she practically yelped, turning her head so she could stare up at him.  "Are you kidding me?"

"Mrs. McVee, yes," he confirmed.  Jake looked at Tommy and Michael then, telling them, "And this is not just Heather's boss.  She was the principal the last few years I was at the Elementary, and she's a friend of my Mom's."  He glanced down at his fiancée again, adding, "Mom was there, too, actually."

"What?" Heather demanded, "Where?  When?"

"Why, who, how?" Michael suggested a beat later, earning himself a dirty look from his sister.

"Jake," Heather prompted.

"School play work …uh, day," he answered finally.  "Mrs. McVee told me to marry you, make sure you got your Master's – she's picked you as her heir apparent – have a couple of kids – a coupl'a grandkids for my Mom is what she actually said," Jake clarified, "And, whatever else I did, make sure we never moved away from Jericho."  He paused a moment, chuckling uneasily.  "I told you this."

Heather pulled free of his embrace and slowly spun around to face him.  "I don't think so," she contradicted, "I'd remember that."

"Okay, well, not the getting married and having kids thing…" he admitted, exhaling a frustrated breath.  "I didn't want to freak you out.  But I definitely told you….  It was a few days later.  That one night."

"That night?" Heather squeaked, her brow furrowing as she thought back.  "Oh…oh, you did," she murmured, hugging herself against the cold.  The night they'd made up after their big fight.  She looked stunned, and Jake couldn't keep from reaching for her hand, squeezing it encouragingly.  "You really did," she giggled, "But there was just so much going on, and I just thought you were making fun of my sucky stick figures, and I – I completely forgot."

"What the hell were you two doin' exactly?" Tommy demanded.  "That night?"

Annoyance flared in Heather's features, and she looked back over her shoulder, glaring at her brother.  "It's none of your beeswax, Tommy," she grumbled, "And it's not what you're thinkin' either."

"Yeah, sure," her brother muttered, taking a long drink from his bottle.

Heather turned back toward Jake.  Exasperation and bemusement warred in her expression, morphing into a smile as their eyes met.  "I didn't think that part was real," she told him, "Like one day –"

"Like one day you'll be Principal Green," Jake confirmed, pulling her close and rubbing her shoulders to warm her up.  "Or Principal Lisinski-Green, if you prefer."

"Nah," she shook her head.  "Mrs. Green, I already told you.  'Good morning Mrs. Lisinski-Green'," Heather said, affecting the higher, somewhat nasally and lispy tone that she used to imitate her students as a group.  "That'd take a kindergartener all day to say."  She paused a moment as the full import of what Jake was telling her started to register. 

"Oh my God," she muttered, covering her face with her hands.  "I mean – I'm – I'm supposed to go to a – an information session in Lawrence for the Master's program in February," Heather confessed, her gaze locked with Jake's.  "I was thinking – thinking about a science curriculum concentration, not – not educational administration.  That's – that's what you need if you're gonna be a principal," she explained, shivering.  "And with everything goin' on, I was thinking it'd be better to wait a year before actually starting –"

"Well, you can still go to the information session, babe," Jake suggested, shrugging out of his coat.  "That way, I don't have Mrs. McVee comin' after me for not followin' the plan.  Here," he said, holding his jacket open for her.

Smiling, she took a step toward him, but instead of pulling his jacket on, she folded it closed and pressed it gently to his chest.  "Jake, thank you, but you can't always be giving me your clothes, especially when you never remember to layer," she chided playfully.

"Seriously, Heth," John protested, "Things like that, you should just keep to yourself."

"Seriously, Johnny," she smirked in return, "Don't be so easy to squick.  Okay," she sighed a few seconds later, "I'm just gonna go back inside where it's warm.  Now, you guys play nice with my fiancé," Heather ordered her brothers, pointing an accusatory finger at each of them in turn.  "Or I'll be forced to do something drastic, like check out the Niagara Falls wedding chapel.  Tonight."

"Hey, we like Jake," Andrew assured, "And Bub really wants to be a flower girl, so no drastic measures.  But," he added, holding out a platter heaped with bratwurst, Polish sausage, and Kyle's two chicken hot dogs, "You can take this in, and let Deb and Mandy know that we're less than five minutes out for the rest?"

"You got it," she agreed cheerfully.

"Hold up, sis," Tommy said, moving to open the door for her.  "I'll walk in with ya."  They entered the small utility room, and he pulled the door closed behind them, placing a hand on Heather's arm to stop her from continuing on into the kitchen.  "Hey, real quick," he said, his expression full of concern.  "I just wanna – wanna make sure….  You don't have to marry him, right?  I mean, you're – you're not pregnant or anything?"

* * * *

"So that thing about being principal one day is true?" John asked, returning Michael's beer to him.

"Trust me," Jake snorted, "That's not the kinda thing I could ever make up."

"That's really cool," Andrew nodded, "My sister, the –"

He was cut off then by an outraged shriek from just inside the house.  Instantly, Jake was moving toward the door, only to be blocked by John, who advised, "Probably shouldn't go in there quite yet."

"Yeah…." Andy agreed.  "Better give her a minute."

"Oh yeah," Michael nodded.  Quickly, he finished off his beer, glancing around at his three companions.  "She's mad.  You know," he added a few seconds later, "He totally asked her if she's pregnant."


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

Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs

The stockroom was mostly stripped of sellable goods, but inside the small space there were a small table, a couple of folding chairs, a cot, and a camp stove along with three cylinders of fuel.  Michael knew that Dale Turner and Skylar Stevens lived in this room off and on, though he understood that they also had a real house – hers – her parents' – on the outskirts of Jericho.  It seemed Zack knew this too, as he avoided the unmade cot and moved one of the chairs out from the table and into the center of the room before forcing Hill to take a seat.  Michael followed his lead, placing Bradley in the other chair a few feet away.  Zack stationed himself in front of the door, his rifle trained on Hill.

"Uh, Maggie," Michael began, looking around, "Can you go over there?" he requested, pointing with his free hand.  "By – by the table?" 

"Sure," she agreed, offering him a smile so fleeting Michael was almost convinced he'd imagined it.

His gun hand – that didn't sound right, but Michael didn't know what to call it, even in just his head – he kept aimed at Bradley's feet and legs, figuring that if he did shoot the other man, purposely or by accident, it at least wouldn't kill him.  Michael hoped that the negotiations went quickly.

"Hey, Romeo," Hill sneered, his gaze narrowing as he contemplated Michael, "You ever even used a gun before?"

It was Zack who answered for Michael when all he could come up with was "Uh…" 

"Of course he has, jackass," the teenager returned, his tone dripping with contempt for the phony marine who was now his prisoner.  "He came all the way from Connecticut to Kansas, after the EMP," Zack told Hill.  "You think somebody could do that without a gun?" he challenged.  "He's a doctor," Zack shrugged, his voice softening, "That's all."

"Medical student, actually," Michael corrected, catching the teenager's eye.  He only knew Zack and Brett Davis by sight, but Jeff had worked with them on the border patrol, and their father had been the one who had escorted them into Jericho five weeks before, so it made sense that Zack knew his story.  "But yeah," he finished, offering Zack a friendly smile, "I don't like … making my own patients."

"You know, Mike," Zack threw out, "You should take a shift now and then with the border patrol.  Like Jeff," he added, "Keep your skills up."

Michael nodded, not sure how else to respond.  He really had never held an actual, shoots bullets, gun – had never wanted to – but it was starting to seem pretty foolish not to learn how to use one if only so he had one more way to feed and protect himself and others.  It'd be a little embarrassing, but he decided then that he'd ask Jake to teach him.  Certainly he'd suffered other – even worse – humiliations in front of his brother-in-law and survived.  "Yeah, good idea," he muttered, "Keep my skills up."

Hill had been watching this conversation with undisguised interest.  "Now, I –"

"Dude!" Zack interrupted, his focus completely on their prisoner once again.  "How 'bout you just not talk," he advised, tightening his grip on his rifle.

After that, none of them spoke.  Michael mostly kept an eye on Bradley, who looked like he was about to throw up, and so probably wasn't much of a threat.  Every once in a while though, he couldn't quite keep himself from looking at Maggie, who'd seated herself on the small table, her arms propped on her knees with her hands held out, palms up, to show that she wasn't a threat.  It was, he assumed, for Zack's benefit; he certainly didn't think she would try anything, not after she'd tried to protect him from her comrades.  He also tried, a couple of times, to catch her eye, but Maggie avoided looking at him which set Michael's stomach churning.  He just couldn't figure her out, and he silently berated himself for needing to.

Finally, there was a knock at the door, and Brett Davis stuck his head in.  "You guys can come out now," he told the back of his brother's head, stepping into the room.

The Davis brothers got Hill and Bradley onto their feet and out of the stockroom, leaving Maggie to Michael.  "C'mon," he told her gruffly, jerking his head toward the door.

She nodded, crossing the room slowly, her hands held up in surrender.  Stopping six inches in front of him, Maggie pointed at the gun he still held awkwardly in his right hand.  "All right if I put the safety on for you?" she asked quietly.  "I'd just rather not –"

"I'm not gonna shoot you," he protested, annoyance bleeding into his tone.  "Well, not on purpose."

Maggie had already removed the gun from his hand.  He watched as she made the necessary adjustment, before giving it back to him.  "I wasn't worried about on purpose," she told him.

"God," Michael swore, "Does – does everybody but – everybody but me get taken aside at five and taught these things?"

"No," Maggie denied immediately.  "No," she repeated.  "Those kids, sure, but I couldn't have done that five months ago, I promise you.  Some days – not some days, every day – I think that there're… two separate Maggies.  Before Maggie and After Maggie," she named them, offering him a sour smile.  "Before Maggie couldn't do that.  And, After Maggie, that's about the best thing about her."

"Yeah, I think I have a Before Mike and an After Mike, too," he told her, watching her face.  Her expression was achingly neutral, but she didn't seem to be in any hurry, and he wasn't either.  As soon as they walked out of that stockroom, who knew what would happen?  "So, Maggie really is your name?" he asked. 

She nodded.  "Maggie, yes, but Mullin, no," she clarified, looking down at the name patch on her stolen uniform.  "That came with the shirt.  But Maggie, yeah.  Margaret."  She took a deep breath and offered him her hand.  "Margaret O'Reilly," she introduced herself, "But most people just call me Maggie."

"Michael Lisinski," he told her, shaking her hand.  "Most people call me Mike, and a few even still call me Mikey," he admitted.

"Mikey, I like it," she grinned. 

He rolled his eyes.  "That joke just never gets old."

"My mom used to call me Peggy Sue," she confessed.  "My middle name's Suzanne," she added, shrugging, "But she was the only one."
 
"Maggie O'Reilly," he murmured, trying her name out.  "Very Irish."

"Yeah, mostly," she agreed.  "And you have such a bad history with the Irish, too."

"Not all bad," Michael assured her, "Two of my brothers married mostly Irish girls."

"I used to –" she began, but a knock on the door interrupted whatever she was going to say.  Her neutral mask fell instantly back into place, and she muttered, "It's a stupid story anyway."

Jake pulled the door open and looked in at them.  "Hey.  We need our last marine so we can get this show on the road."

Maggie wouldn't look at Michael.  "That's my cue," she sighed.

* * * * *

Half the town turned out to wave the marines off.  Gray Anderson and Gunnery Sergeant Hill exchanged kind words and a handshake, and Jericho's citizenry cheered.  Michael, standing outside the market with Johnston, Jake, Stanley, and the Davises, thought he might be sick.

"A hero's exit," Johnston murmured.

"Movin' out," Hill yelled, starting to march.  "Let's go!"  Behind him the tank rumbled to life, the other squad members taking their positions in lines on either side of the behemoth.

Silently, the Greens and Davises moved into place, marching alongside the imposter marines.  None of them chose to march beside Maggie, leaving an obvious hole for Michael to fill in.  As if he would have gone anywhere else, he thought, jogging to catch up.

"Hey," Michael greeted, matching his pace to hers.

She spared him a quick glance.  "My own personal escort out of town," Maggie tried to joke, but her tone – against her will – ended up somewhere between accusatory and hurt.

He flinched a little at that, falling behind a step or two but then hurried to catch up.  They were making the turn onto Spruce now, and then in a few minutes they would reach the interstate, then the bridge, and they would be gone.  "You're a smart girl," Michael told her in a rush of breath, "You need to get out – get out before these guys get you killed."

"And go where?" Maggie snapped, pitching her voice low.  "Towns aren't taking refugees and," she chuckled sourly, "There's only one thing they want women for."

"Then stay here, all right?" Michael returned.  It came out needy, almost begging, and he wished he could be embarrassed by it, but he wasn't.  He wanted her to stay, he wanted to get to know her better, he wanted her to be safe – and he didn't think she would be as long as she stayed with this group.  "You'll – you'll be safe here."

"Oh, your sister would love that," Maggie sighed. 

"She'd probably hate it," Michael admitted, "At first.  But she'd get over –"

"It's not gonna work," she interrupted, frowning at him.  They were far enough from town hall and the crowd that they didn't really need to maintain the charade, and Maggie adjusted her weapon – her empty, useless weapon – so that she wore it over her shoulder by its strap.  "I almost wish I didn't like you so much, Mike," she told him, looking at him sideways and blinking hard.  "If I didn't, I could just stay here, and let the chips fall where they may.  One hundred percent After Maggie," she admitted.  "But I do like you," she said attempting a smile and failing miserably.  "It wouldn't work, not after the story we told.  And not with story you're all plannin' to tell."

"But –"

"Please, Mike.  Let me – just let me be Before Maggie again, okay?" she requested, her voice cracking with a suppressed sob.  "Anyway, she's the one you like."

Too soon they were out on the Tacoma Bridge, and the rangers on duty were pulling away the barricades, thanking the imposters for coming, joking that they would see them soon.  The tank drove onto the interstate, the escorts from Jericho accompanying the squad.  Finally after another ten minutes – a half mile down the road – Johnston called for them to halt.  "Okay, this is far enough I think," he yelled, pounding on the side of the tank to make sure the operator got the message.

Jake, Stanley and the Davis brothers moved to join Johnston at the front of the tank, Michael following reluctantly a few seconds later.  The driver climbed out the turret, tossing two gear bags down onto the pavement before jumping down himself.  "You've got enough food to get you a few days down the road," Jake reminded, pointing at the bags.  They had confiscated the communications equipment already and had offered the food as a bribe to ensure cooperation.

"How 'bout some water, man?" Hill grumbled.

But Johnston wasn't having any of it.  "Make due," he ordered.  "You will leave your weapons on the tank, and you will move out."

Hill threw one last glare in Johnston's direction.  "Do it," he told his comrades.  He turned toward the tank, unstrapped his rifle, and placed it on the tank.  "C'mon," he muttered, "Let's go."

Quickly, the phony marines dropped their gear on the tank, the operator and Bradley – the pudgy, completely un-marine like one – snatching up the bags containing the food.  Last of all, Maggie leaned her weapon against the tank, glancing over her shoulder at the Jericho contingent.

"Be careful," Michael called out.  She nodded.  And then she was gone.

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 14F.

Yes, despite the fact that Semper Fi was not one of my favorites – not by a long shot – there is really still more to come.  Go figure.


Citations shamelessly borrowed from wikipedia.org.

Clue is a popular murder-mystery themed deduction board game originally published by Waddingtons in Leeds, England in 1949.  It is now published by the United States game and toy company Hasbro, which acquired its U.S. publisher Parker Brothers, and Waddingtons.

Sorry! is a board game that is based on the ancient Cross and Circle game Pachisi. Originally manufactured by Parker Brothers, Sorry! is now manufactured by Hasbro.

Candy Land is a simple racing board game. The game requires no reading and minimal counting skills, making it suitable for young children.  The game was designed in 1945 by Eleanor Abbott, while she was recovering from polio in San Diego, California. The game was bought by Milton Bradley Company (now owned by Hasbro) and first published in 1949.

Twister is a game of physical skill produced by the Milton Bradley Company.  Twister was submitted for patent by Charles F. Foley and Neil Rabens in 1966, and became a success when Eva Gabor played it with Johnny Carson on television's The Tonight Show on May 3, 1966. However, in its success, Twister was also controversial. Milton Bradley, was accused by its competitors of selling "sex in a box". That accusation was probably because Twister was the first popular American game to use human bodies as playing pieces.


Finding Nemo is a 2003 American computer-animated comedy-drama adventure film written and directed by Andrew Stanton, released by Walt Disney Pictures, and the fifth film produced by Pixar Animation Studios. It tells the story of the over-protective clownfish named Marlin (Albert Brooks) who, along with a regal tang named Dory (Ellen DeGeneres), searches for his abducted son Nemo (Alexander Gould) all the way to Sydney Harbour.  "Just keep swimming!" is Dory's philosophy.