The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances: Part 14G of ? by Marzee Doats


Author's Note: Giant gobs of thanks to my magnificent beta reader, Skyrose, who helps rein in (some of) my too long sentences, and who made some very important suggestions and asked some piercing questions that really helped improve this part (and added 3 to 4 additional pages).  Thanks also to Sherry, for all her positive feedback and encouragement. 

Warnings: So this is a really long part, even for me.  It's close to 20,000 words of actual story, and my copy of the files says that it's 43 pages long.  This one may take some time to read.  There aren't any real content warnings on this one… just beware that I've delved into my box of untold backstory quite a bit for this part, so plenty of revelation ahead!

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Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs

The bedroom was dark except for a small and – Jake presumed – battery-powered lantern that was sitting on the dresser. The lantern was new, from the airdrop he was sure, given its resemblance to the Italian flag: green cap, white LED glowing from within the globe, and a red base. Right next to the lantern, Heather had put out a pair of long underwear, a not so subtle hint to layer, and he caught himself chuckling appreciatively through his chattering teeth. He picked up the thermal shirt and sniffed it, enjoying the clean, line-dried scent. Despite her claims to the contrary, Heather did more of his laundry – now, especially – than he did, a fact he was gratefully aware of as he dug a clean t-shirt, sweatpants and two pairs of socks out of the dresser.

Hurriedly, he pulled everything on but the socks and then, taking the lantern with him, crossed to the desk and threw himself down in the chair so he could don those as well. There were four packages of bright yellow "D" batteries sitting on the desk – for the lantern Jake assumed, recognizing their origin as IKEA, so maybe they owed some thanks to the Swedes as well as the Italians. And, as Heather has promised, his dinner was waiting for him: a small piece of grilled fish on top of a bowl of what Jake was pretty sure was wild mushroom risotto. It was warm – though not hot – and easy to swallow, and it tasted pretty good, too, after days – weeks – of nothing but corn supplemented by the occasional egg. There was a giant insulated mug of tea as well, and that was still hot, nearly boiling, and even though it practically scalded his throat, Jake downed it eagerly.

"Are you decent?" Heather asked, sticking her head through the door and pulling Jake out of his meditation on his meal.

He yawned. "Are you bringing someone with you?" Jake inquired in return, frowning. He was tired – exhausted, really – and even though he loved his mother – loved April – he didn't really want to deal with either of them any more tonight. He wanted Heather there, but only her, no one else.

"Nah," she answered, closing the door behind her. She turned toward him, flashing a smile and holding up the now familiar thermometer. "Unless your temperature is less than ninety-seven," she explained. "April's freaking out about letting you take a shower. So if it's really low I'm s'posed to get her."

"Hand it over," he demanded, sighing.

Smiling, Heather shook her head. "Eat your dinner first," she ordered, moving to perch herself on the edge of the bed.

"Here," Jake offered, starting to stand up. The bed, dresser, and desk were all the same furniture that he'd grown up with, after he and Eric had been given their own rooms, and more than twenty years later, there was still only the one chair. "Babe, take it."

"I'm fine, Jake, I swear," she told him, waving him back into his seat. "You're eating, and it's just better this way."

They stared at one another for a long moment before he gave in, conceding, "Yeah, okay, no food in the bed."

"Exactly," she chuckled. "Do you want more?" Heather asked, quickly assuring, "There's more of both, but I only brought you a small bowl, because the rest of us overate the first day and got sick," she admitted, making a face. While the rest of the family had been partaking in the bounty of the airdrop, Jake – who'd slept through most of the excitement anyway – had been restricted to broth and a few crackers. "First time I'd thrown up in two months, and just a big waste of good food," Heather declared.

"Nah, I'm good," he said, shaking his head. "This – this seems like a lot, actually." Hearing his own words out loud, Jake rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean," he told her. "And if eating's gonna make me sick…." He yawned again, staring into the bowl. He'd finished off the fish in four bites, but there was still some of the risotto left, and he held the bowl up, showing Heather. "You want this?"

"What I want is for you to eat it," she countered. But there was nothing but affection for him in her voice, and so he took a deep breath and then his next forkful. "This is gonna sound crazy," Heather continued, "But I think I'm actually full."

"Three meals a day'll do that for ya," Jake reminded, snorting. Gray had hit him where he'd known it would hurt when he'd asked if Jake wanted his wife to have food in a month. Of course he did. And the fact of the matter was, he'd sacrifice a lot to make sure that Heather, their baby, and the whole family could eat; he'd even sacrifice Roger's band of refugees. That thought left a sour taste in his mouth which he tried to banish by taking another long drink of tea. "So, does B.G. like risotto?" he asked teasingly a few seconds later.

Heather grinned at that. "B.G. loves risotto," she declared. "And pesto and Alfredo sauce and minestrone, which was a surprise," she joked, "Because it's never been my favorite. And, ooh!" Heather continued, getting up and then moving to his side. She reached over him, past the pile of batteries, to pick up a small salad plate on which sat three dried apricots. She handed the plate to him. "B.G. loves apricots. And so does the other B.G.," she laughed. "April and I really had more than our fair share, but you know things are getting better when we sorta have dessert again."

"You guys can have 'em," he said, trying to give the plate back. He stood up slowly, shifting so he could rest his free hand on the flannel-covered mound of her pregnancy. The baby wasn't moving, at least not enough that he could tell, but he left his hand where it was, soaking up the warmth that radiated off of Heather. "You want the chair?"

"Uh-uh," Heather returned, a note of exasperation coloring her tone. "I've had seven already," she confessed, "So definitely more than my share. And Jake," she insisted, groaning a little at the memory, "They are so, so good. Just – eat them slow. They seriously need to be savored."

"That's your share, and B.G.'s," Jake reasoned, retaking his seat.

"It's not really supposed to work that way," Heather argued, "But that is how April and I figured it, egged on by your mom, of course."

"Grandma Gail strikes again," he teased, biting one of the dried apricots in half. The flavor surprised him, and he found himself – as Heather had instructed – savoring each bite as he chewed slowly. It had been a long time since he'd even thought about tasting what he ate; their meals were so skimpy, so monotonous, so completely unsatisfying, so quickly inhaled without a thought given to enjoyment. "This is good," he sighed, finally, grudgingly, swallowing.

"Told ya," she smiled, returning to her spot on the edge of the bed.

"Well, don't change your mind now, 'cause it's too late," he told her, popping the other half apricot into his mouth. "These are mine now." He focused his gaze on Heather. She was only a few feet away, but he had to squint to see her in the dim light, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands folded protectively over their baby.  "We need another chair in here," he complained.

"Can we go out to the ranch tomorrow?" she asked, "Or do you need to put in an appearance on the border patrol?"

"Long as my doctor is restricting my activities, I think I can call in sick," Jake grumbled. "Mrs. C has it under control," he assured, "And today… probably, I did too much," he admitted.

"Probably," she agreed, snorting softly.

Jake took a bite of the second apricot, choosing to ignore the slight dig inherent in her comment. "So, I'm all yours for the next few days," he informed her. "Though apparently you can't just do anything you want with me," he reminded, leering at her tiredly, "But at least we can go out to the ranch."

"'Pesky restrictions," she complained, throwing him a sympathetic smile. "But do you think, between the two of us, we can get your grandmother's old rocking chair into Charlotte?" Heather inquired. "It's in the sewing room," she reminded, unnecessarily, "So we don't have to get it down the stairs, just into the truck. Well, there are stairs here," she realized, "But I can probably talk Jeff or Drake into moving it upstairs for me.  Probably not Mikey, 'cause, you know...."

"He hates getting stuck with jobs he thinks should go to me," Jake supplied.  "And yet he takes orders from my mom without asking why she's not givin' 'em to me."

"That's because she's a mom and now he's just one of her many kids," she explained, chuckling softly.   "Whereas, I'm Miss Bossy Heather.  But Jake, I love that chair, it's so comfortable and so well made, it's like a piece of art. Besides, we'll need it soon enough," Heather sighed, rubbing circles across her belly, "And it would solve the chair problem."

All Jake could do was nod. The sewing room had always been misnamed, though his grandmother's sewing machine had occupied one corner of the sunny room at the back of the ranch house. Heather, too, had added her own sewing machine the first winter after they were married, but despite some initial enthusiasm for learning a new skill, she had never really gotten the hang of it, instead utilizing the room mostly for storing her teaching supplies, alongside his grandmother's fifty plus years of astronomical logs. Jake knew the rocking chair she was interested in, too, having sat in it more than once when he'd kept her company while she sorted through a box or searched her collection of children's books for a specific title.  And now, in his mind's eye, he could see her sitting in that chair, nursing or just soothing their baby.  His throat tightened.  "We can handle it," he assured her thickly.

"Maybe … maybe we don't need to, though," Heather argued, "If things – if things are really gonna get better, if the worst is over… maybe, by the time the baby's born, we'll be taking him or her home to the ranch, like we always planned."

Despite the near darkness of the room, their eyes locked and she offered him a tentative, hopeful smile. Jake's stomach clenched as he realized that he'd missed his chance – for tonight anyway – to tell her that the marines weren't real, that they were the victims of a cruel hoax. He'd meant to tell her, he reassured himself, but he was tired, cold, hungry, and fixing all of that – just spending a few moments alone with her – had taken precedence. But he wouldn't – he couldn't – dash her hopes now. Not tonight.

"Heather, I hope so," he muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face so he didn't have to meet her eye. "That – that's what I want, too," he reminded, "You know I do. The ranch, it's our home. But I think – I think we need to wait and see how things shake out," Jake sighed, repeating the words he'd used earlier with Jeff. "God," he swore, "This was never the plan. Living in my childhood bedroom at this point in my life – our life."

"I know, Jake. But even I never had a plan for what's happened the last few months," she consoled. "And we both know, vacations aside, I'm a way better planner than you," Heather joked, slipping off the bed and coming to stand next to him. "Besides," she added, squeezing his shoulder, "I'd much rather live in this room with you than anywhere else without you, okay?"

"Okay," Jake agreed, craning his neck so he could look up at her. Heather took this as an invitation to kiss him. "But we will go home eventually," he told her when they separated. "I promise you that. You, too, B.G.," Jake continued, clearing his throat. He pressed his face into the side of Heather's belly, talking to their child. "'Cause you wanna learn how to ride a horse, doncha, B.G.?"

"You're plotting to turn our baby into a rodeo star, aren't you?" Heather accused, though she sounded perfectly pleased with the idea. "That'll completely freak my brothers out," she predicted, chuckling.

"Rodeo champ or pitcher for the Royals," Jake returned. "Either works for me."

"Me too," she confirmed, kissing the top of his head. "And now, I really do need to take your temperature," she reminded, taking a step back so she could again show him the thermometer. "And you don't get to drink any tea to try and spike the result."

"I would never do that," he protested, setting the mug back down on the desk.

Chuckling, Heather shook her head at him. "Of course not," she agreed, sticking the thermometer into his mouth. "Hold," she ordered, adding, "Two minutes," as she stepped sideways so she could better watch the time on her wristwatch by the light of the lantern.

"So tonight, April decided she wants to set Jeff up with August," Heather informed Jake a few seconds later. "She thinks they'd be perfect for each other."

"Ah-hus?" Jake mumbled around the thermometer clamped between his lips. "Heel-hy?"

"Why not?" she replied, shrugging. "Actually, most of the things August was crushing on you for – and, trust me, she was perfectly happy to tell me what those things were – are things you and Jeff have in common," Heather explained. Jake made a strangled noise at that, eliciting a soft giggle from his wife. "I thought it was a little weird at first, too," she admitted, "But I think it might actually work out as long as, you know, August could get to Jericho."

Heather sighed, smiling at him affectionately. "Honestly, it was just nice to see April – I don't know – a little bit happy. Actually, not just a little," she corrected herself. "She really was happy tonight, almost like the old April before everything with Eric… not two or three years ago April, but it was still nice."

"Yeah," Jake muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Only forty five seconds to go," Heather told him, checking her watch. "So it could happen, right? August coming to Jericho? New Mexico isn't that far away, and there weren't any bombs that were really close, either…. That would be so great," she concluded, nodding to herself.

He allowed a non-committal grunt. Jake supposed it was possible that August was okay, maybe even better off than they were, since she was farther south. And, he knew what that…that miracle would mean to April, but still there was so much that could've gone wrong. He didn't want to think about it.

"I – I have a, well, a related fantasy, I guess," Heather stammered out then, her expression suddenly and oddly guilty.

"What?!?" he demanded, sitting up in his chair and spitting the thermometer out on his hand. "Oh my God," he muttered, eyeing her warily.

"Jake," she growled, snatching the thermometer from him. He caught her eye and she stared at him for a long moment. Suddenly, she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Ew!" she squealed, smacking his shoulder with her free hand. "Not that kinda fantasy!" she declared, "Seriously!"

"Ow," he complained piteously, going so far as to stick his lower lip out, though he couldn't maintain it, giving into a tired grin almost immediately. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" he asked, "You say, 'gee, wouldn't it be great if August came to town' followed immediately by 'I have this related fantasy' and that means …?"

Blushing, Heather shook her head. "Okay, first, ew!  I mean…. Ewwww!" she declared once more for good measure. "Second, the juxtaposition was probably a little too close," she conceded, letting out a long sigh.

"Just a little," Jake confirmed, yawning.

"By the way, your temperature is closer to ninety eight than ninety seven," Heather told him, placing the thermometer safely on the desk. "And that's without going the full two minutes, so that is very good."

"Good," he agreed, capturing her hand so he could pull her to him for a kiss.

"And it wasn't that kind of fantasy," she repeated a moment later, chuckling softly. "I mean, I do have those kind of fantasies, but they don't ever involve extra people, okay?" Squeezing his fingers, Heather took a deep breath and continued. "You know how I always tell you I'm not that Catholic?" she asked, "Well, in this instance, I am most definitely, one hundred percent, that Catholic."

"Thank God," Jake muttered, slumping a little in his chair. Heather started to move away, but he stopped her, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. "Babe, I …." He paused, frowning in concentration as he considered his words. "I love what we have, okay?" he asked rhetorically, "And that's nothin' to mess with."

"Exactly," Heather declared, smiling at him. "And you can't seriously have thought I was actually suggesting – suggesting a – well, that."

"Nah," he agreed. "Not when you can't even say it. But I could've been having a nightmare inside a coma or something," he grumbled.

She frowned at him, complaining, "Jake, that's not funny."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry," he apologized, tugging on her hand, trying to pull her down on his lap.

"Jake!" Heather protested, even as she sat down, "I don't think this works right now."

"It's fine. And it's either this, or I give you the chair," he threatened. Wordlessly, they arranged themselves so that she was sitting sideways across his legs, her arms looped around his neck, his hands resting protectively over their child. "See? This works. And it's not like I can sit in your lap right now."

"And, you should not be making jokes like that right now, mister," Heather warned, rolling her eyes. "I'm feeling pretty darn pregnant today."

"Heather, when I was in Afghanistan and Iraq, do you know what I fantasized about?" he inquired, ignoring her statement.

"Chicken fried steak, burgers from the truck stop, and – ironically now – roasted ears of corn," she suggested, naming some of the foods she remembered him complaining about not having when he'd been in the Middle East.

"That's what I wanted to eat, yeah," Jake agreed, "But it's not what I fantasized about. I – I wanted to be home, be with you. I had fantasies about making you pancakes, bringing you breakfast in bed," he admitted, chuckling at himself. "And I'm not sayin' that's how they all ended…" he added, the low rumble of his voice sending a delicious shiver up Heather's spine.  "But sometimes, yeah. Just making breakfast for you and our kids –"

"You have fantasies about our children?" Heather squeaked, clearly delighted by the thought. "Jake, that's so –"

"Sweet?" he guessed with a snort.

"Yes," she nodded. "But also – the whole thing – it's domestic and kinda ordinary…." Jake groaned softly at that, but Heather recognized this as a knee-jerk reaction, all for show. "But in a good way," she insisted, smiling at him. "And, really, really sweet. I mean, I've been fantasizing about what our kids'll be like forever, but I always figured that was a girl thing."

"Well, it's not so much a fantasy anymore," Jake reminded, massaging her pregnant tummy. "And if we could get back to ordinary, that'd be good, too."

"You're tellin' me." Heather's chuckle quickly turned into a groan. "I've accepted that disposable diapers are probably not gonna be all that available for a while still, but cloth without a working washing machine is gonna be a nightmare," she complained.

"Way to sell the whole changing diapers thing, babe," he yawned, his fingers roaming over her stomach.

"Changing diapers is gonna be a piece of cake compared to all the laundry," she argued, "And I'll be in charge of that." Heather trapped his hand underneath hers. "Stop trying to wake B.G. up," she ordered, "I would like to go to sleep sometime soon." She peered at him, frowning. "Hon, you need to go to bed. You're exhausted."

"I'm pretty sure I could sleep a week," Jake admitted, offering her a wry smile. "But I wanna go out t' the ranch with you tomorrow, so I'll get up sometime."

"Let's just sleep in as long as we can," she proposed, starting to climb off his lap. "No schedule."

Jake stopped her. "One sec. There's something I have to tell you first."

"Okay," Heather agreed.

He caught both her hands in his, folding them together and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.  Finally, taking a deep breath, Jake began.  "I need you to know that Afghanistan and Iraq - Ravenwood, that was my last assignment," he told her.  "I'd told Gretchen that was it," he added, "I'd see it through to the end, but then I was done-"

"You didn't have to-"

"I did, babe, I did," Jake contradicted.  "Not because you were pregnant...I didn't know you were pregnant," he reminded, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand.   "But you were gonna be, eventually.  And that wasn't even it, really. I was burned out," he confessed, frowning softly.  "Or maybe I'd just finally grown up.  You've been waiting for me to catch up with you, be ready for kids, so I guess I finally did."

Heather shook her head.  "That's not true, Jake. I wasn't ready to have kids when we got married, I wasn't ready two years ago," she argued, her gaze locked with his. "We both had things we needed to do first," she insisted, squeezing his hand, "Together and individually."

"Yeah, okay," he acknowledged, clearing his throat. "But all I know is, it started to feel really, really stupid to be doin' this job that kept me away from you for weeks or - this last time - months at a time, so that we were apart more than we were together."

"Well, you did once say that we should be together as much as possible," she smiled, her eyes suddenly bright.

"You're right, I did," he confirmed.  "And I - I didn't have anything left to do in that job.  I wasn't bucking for a promotion, I sure as hell didn't want Gretchen's job... and besides I always said I wasn't gonna do it forever," Jake reminded, tucking a lock of her hair back behind her ear.  "Liking what I was doing didn't make up for being away from you, and in Iraq, I didn't really like what I was doin'.  So, I was gonna finish up the assignment, and then I was gonna come home to you. Permanently."

"Well, good," Heather acknowledged with a smile.  "So...what were you gonna do?" she inquired a few seconds later, her tone curious.

Jake knew why she was asking - he'd vacillated on his choice of a second career since before they had married - but still he couldn't resist teasing her a little. "So, comin' home isn't enough for you? I've gotta get a job too?"

"I'm just not sure I can support you in the manner to which you're accustomed," she joked. "Besides, even if you were a househusband, you'd go crazy without something to do."

"Changin' diapers isn't enough for you?" he returned.

Heather rolled her eyes, but at least she was grinning.  "Uh, since you've yet to actually change a diaper in your life, I hafta say no," she told him, chuckling softly.

"The ranch," he announced, capturing her chin with one hand so he could plant a quick kiss on her lips.  "I was gonna run the ranch," he repeated. "I mean, I know Mom's kept everything goin'. She's handled the books, made sales.... Even Dad got involved this year," he reminded.  "But it's been too long. She - they - can't run it the way Gramps wanted, the way he expected."

"But you can," Heather declared, smiling at him. "And you know she was only doing that for you," she reminded, "Until you were ready. Your mom knew - we all knew what Gramps wanted, that he wanted you to take over, to keep the Green legacy alive."

It was what his grandfather had wanted, what EJ had written into his will, and what Charles Gunnison, the Greens' longtime family attorney, had recited for all the Greens to hear during the reading of that will the day after the funeral.  Jake clutched Heather's hand - much as he had that day not quite three years before - as an echo of the staggered feeling he'd felt then washed over him.

"'The house and the sixteen acres surrounding, one tenth of the original homestead established by Cormac Green in 1861, is to be subdivided from the remainder of the ranch property, and ownership transferred to my grandson, Jake and his wife, Heather,'" Gunnison had read, his voice a monotone that betrayed nothing.  "This surveyor's report describes how EJ planned for the subdivision," the attorney had informed the six Greens, attempting to hand a manila folder to Jake.  "It's rather specific, especially with regard to the western border, including the old water tower, but excluding the barns," Gunnison had added, settling, finally, for passing the report to a gaping Heather.  "And of course, the family cemetery is included in your part of the subdivision."

He'd then continued to read from the will. '"The remainder of the ranch property, totaling two hundred eighty-two acres, is to be held in the EJ Green Family Trust for no more than six years following my death.  If within five years of my death, my grandson, Jake, chooses to take over day-to-day management of the ranch property and livestock, full ownership is to be transferred to him.  If after five years, Jake does not take ownership of the ranch, my grandson, Eric, may choose to do so within one year; if Eric does not choose to take ownership, then the ranch property is to be sold and the proceeds divided equally amongst my heirs'."

There had been much more to EJ's last will and testament - the document was over thirty pages long - but Jake had only heard half of it, and he'd comprehended even less.  And so, during the week that had followed, he had studied his copy of the will, more often than not soliciting Heather's opinion as to whether he had interpreted this or that clause correctly. Time and again, she had confirmed his understanding, each time reminding him that his grandfather had wanted him to be able to choose the path - the career - that would make him happy.

Always meticulous, EJ had made provisions for every scenario: if Jake accepted the bequest of the ranch, but later wished to give it up; if Jake outlived his parents and brother; if Jake predeceased his parents and/or brother without offspring; or with offspring; or with very young offspring; if Jake didn't take ownership of the ranch, but instead decided to exercise the trust's majority interest in Jayhawk Aviation; if Jake didn't wish to exercise that interest or didn't wish to act as majority partner but Johnston or Eric did.

And still the litany of items to be addressed had continued. Eric's and April's mortgage would be paid off; nine oil wells on the ranch property would need to be managed separately from the ranch itself; seven rental units and an interest in a strip mall outside of New Bern needed to be disposed of; arrangements were made for the upkeep and management of the hunting cabin; bank and brokerage accounts were to be transferred or liquidated; jewelry, heirlooms, memorabilia, family papers and other miscellaneous possessions were to be divvied up; charitable contributions were provided for; gifts were made to the hospice nurses who had cared for him in his last few months of life; even EJ's chickens rated a mention as their continued maintenance was entrusted to Heather.

The choice before him had weighed heavily on Jake, as had the need to return to work. He'd been away for more than two weeks, having abandoned his operation at a potentially critical point - not that he would have ever taken back that decision as it had afforded him two final, precious days with his grandfather.  But still, he'd needed to get back to it, to see what could be salvaged, and so a week after the funeral he and Heather had met again with Charles Gunnison and his parents to finalize the transfer of what they had all taken to calling the homestead property.

"Of course, there are large tax implications inherent in accepting the ranch property," Gunnison had informed Jake, "Which is why EJ separated the homestead from the business, and why he put the five years clause into his will.  That's going to take some planning."

Jake had nodded, recognizing that the lawyer fully expected that he'd accept his inheritance eventually.  Once all the right planning could happen.  "For now, I've got to get back to work, finish up my assignment," he'd told Gunnison.  "I've got eight months in on this operation, and I can't just up and quit."

Johnston, who had been present in order to sign the quit claim deed on behalf of the trust, had signaled his approval of the situation.  "We can deal with the ranch later," he'd agreed, "But it was important to Grandpa, above everything else, that this house remain in the family, with the two of you.  And that," he'd assured, signing the deed where Gunnison's assistant - a public notary - had indicated he should, "We can take care of today."

"And just because the two properties are split now, doesn't mean you don't have full rights to use of the ranch," Gunnison had added.  "After all, the first half mile of the access road is all on the homestead property. All part of EJ's plan," he'd chuckled.

"And setting it up this way, even if I mess up the business, the house is still separate and safe, right?" Jake had asked.  Heather and his mother had both protested that that wasn't going to happen, while his father had said something about the vagaries of the economy and the prudence of separating their home from their business.  Gunnison, who had clearly been surprised by Jake's statement, had nearly bent over backwards agreeing with Johnston.  "Okay, here goes," Jake had said, exhaling deeply, as he'd signed the deed.  Turning, he had offered Heather his pen, moving the paperwork in front of her.

"This is so weird," she'd complained, hesitation written plainly in her expression.

"If I have to sign, you have to sign," he had argued, practically forcing the pen into her hand.  "He left it to both of us," Jake had reminded, cajoling, "So we could have the joy of home ownership together. Besides," he'd reminded, brushing a chaste kiss across her mouth, "This is where we want our kids to grow up, right?"

They had shared a long look and then finally Heather had nodded. "Yes, it is," she'd sighed, picking up the pen and signing the deed.  "How come you're not freaking out right now?" she'd demanded once she was done, her forehead wrinkling.

"'Cause you got me covered on that," he'd teased, folding her hand into his.  "I'll freak out later," he'd assured before turning toward the attorney and asking, "So, we're official?"

"I'm going to personally take it to the courthouse in Fielding for recording on Monday morning," Gunnison had promised.  "But yes, the homestead is yours. Congratulations."

His parents had echoed the attorney's good wishes, Gail insisting on hugging them both.  "Your father's 'hired' me to manage the ranch for now," his mother had explained while Gunnison and his assistant had packed up their things.  "While he deals with the rest of the estate.  We're going to find a foreman, so really, I'll just be keeping the books. That way, everything will be ready for you when you take over, Jake," she'd promised.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, exchanging tired smiles with his wife. "And, she wasn't supposed to take care of things forever," Jake told her.  "Mom was starting to remind me of that, too, when I was in Iraq.  Kept sendin' me emails about the ranch, about decisions that needed to be made. That I needed to make," Jake admitted, frowning.  His mother had made a point of keeping him in the loop about the ranch, including him in decisions, always anticipating the day when he would take over.  "Said she was plannin' some big trip to Europe so she wouldn't be around to manage things for a while."

"I knew about the trip, though they were keeping it pretty quiet," Heather shrugged, "'Cause of the election."

"Right," Jake snorted, "Gray would've loved to have had that to use against Dad.  God, I shouldn't have taken so long," Jake muttered a long moment later. He stared past Heather.  "I should've just finished up what I was workin' on and then taken over the ranch."

"Gramps set up the five years thing so you could make up your mind," she argued, rubbing his arm.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "And to give me a time limit, make sure I'd hafta decide," Jake said, allowing a humorless chuckle.  "Gramps agreed with Dad - that I was bein' an idiot to keep on with the DEA when my life was here.  When you were here."  He offered her a wry smile.  "So, I guess I should tell Dad that I want the ranch, just in case."

"You have time," Heather reminded, "But I think he'd still like to know that."  She took a deep breath, then exhaling, plunged ahead.  "But what I don't get ... why didn't you tell me? That you'd decided?"

She sounded more curious than upset, but Jake still couldn't look her in the face.  "Babe, I wanted to tell you," He assured her, his eyes falling closed. "But I didn't know how long it all was gonna take, and I knew if I told you and it dragged on for months - and it did - I'd be tempted to just quit."  Frowning, he finally allowed his gaze to meet hers. "And I didn't want to just quit, I wanted to see it through to the end."

"Well, I get that," Heather acknowledged, nodding.   "You owed Gretchen that much.  I'm just... I guess I'm just surprised that you didn't say anything about it since you got home."  Resting her hand on his shoulder, she offered an encouraging smile.  "These last three months," she added, stroking her thumb along his collarbone.

"Yeah," he mumbled, flashing her an uncomfortable smile.  "Well, I had a plan, for how that day was gonna go, and I kinda liked my plan," Jake shrugged.  "But then, everything went wrong and it just never seemed like the right time... more like not the right time to tell Dad and Eric, not you," he clarified.   Heather nodded.  EJ had taken pains to ensure that Johnston, Jake and Eric would receive equivalent inheritances, but the fact was, if Jake didn't claim the ranch and it was instead sold, then the immediate cash value of all their inheritances, his included, would almost definitely be larger.

"But my plan was to tell you and Mom and Dad together.  And then after a while it didn't seem to matter anymore," Jake explained.  "Why talk about running a horse ranch when last week I was ready to slaughter the first horse I came across?  And I would've," he insisted.  "Agamemnon," he said, naming his own favorite horse.  "Arabella," he continued, naming April's horse, an animal that wasn't even owned by the Green Ranch, just boarded.  "Any of 'em.  I wouldn't have cared."

"Okay," Heather agreed, "I can see that.  What mattered before, what matters now..." she sighed, "Sometimes it feels like two different universes."

"Not all of it," he contradicted.  "Not us.  But the rest, yeah."

"Yeah."  She waited a moment, playing with the hair that was now long enough that it was starting to curl under at the nape of his neck.  "So, what was the plan?  For telling us all together?"

"I was supposed to be in Denver by ten AM, so I figured I'd be in Jericho by three at the latest," Jake told her.  "I was gonna buy flowers - roses, probably - and come to school like in the old days-"

"Jake, you did that the last day before Christmas break last year, so it's hardly the old days," Heather reminded, grinning at him.

"Okay then," he grinned in return, "I was gonna surprise you at school with flowers like I like to do, and I was gonna tell you to leave everything right where it was, 'grab your purse, Mrs. Green, I'm kidnapping you'."

"Not much of a kidnapping when you know I'd be racing you to the door, my pile of grading be damned," Heather giggled.

"Right," he chuckled along with her.  "Anyway, I figured we'd head over to my parents' and I'd tell Mom to put away whatever she was making for dinner 'cause we were takin' them out... and we'd go to dinner, and I'd tell you all I was ready to take on the ranch."

"It's a great plan, hon," she assured him, smiling widely, her eyes bright.  "I would have been totally annoyed that you wanted to go out to dinner with your parents, but it's still a great plan.  Although actually, I probably wouldn't have been at school yet.  I was on the field trip," Heather reminded, "And we weren't due back 'til four thirty, five."

"You would've been annoyed?" Jake questioned, unsure of whether to be amused or annoyed himself by this news.  "I was gonna tell you the big news you'd all been waiting two and a half years for, and that was gonna annoy you?" he snorted.

"Only at the beginning, and only because I would've wanted to tell you my big news," she explained.   "Privately.  Without your parents there.  I love them, and we would have told them - probably pretty soon - but I still wanted to tell you first, Jake."

"Mom had already guessed," he said, rubbing circles on her tummy.  "And you kinda lied to me on the bus," he accused mildly.  "Let me believe that you threw up because you'd hit your head and broken your leg."

"It was a bus crash," Heather argued, "Dave Collier was dead, you had to do a tracheotomy on Stacy Fuller, my whole class was there and they were scared... it didn't seem like the best time to inform you of your impending fatherhood," she reasoned.  "And it's not like my head and leg weren't contributing factors."

She paused, worrying her lip absentmindedly.  "I wanted to tell you, Jake, so badly.  I must've called you twenty times between Monday night and Wednesday, trying to tell you.  I was actually starting to get worried," Heather confessed. "I left you a couple of voice mails, and I sent you an email that morning, telling you about the field trip, telling you to call me.  I was even getting ready to call Gretchen and demand to know what was going on.  Gretchen or Ange Waller," she amended.  "It's not her job anymore but Ange would've helped me out."

"Well, that would've ruined my surprise," Jake grumbled.  "But actually, it was her job.  I was her job.  Ange had been handling me for three, four months by then.  She'd taken a step back those last few days - Gretchen wanted to deal with the Army brass herself - but no way Ange wouldn't have told you everything she could," he assured, pressing a kiss to her hairline.  "And she had complete access to my movements." 

Angela Beltran had been in the same DEA Academy class as Jake, and while he hadn't known her well, he'd still been glad to reconnect with her when she'd transferred to the Denver field office about a year and a half after he and Heather had gotten married.  She'd been newly married herself, to Stephen Waller, a forensic accountant with the FBI.  They'd met on a joint taskforce he'd been temporarily assigned to supervise in Chicago, and they had fallen head over heels for one another, so Ange had put in for a transfer and followed Steve to Denver.

Already pregnant when she'd reported in, Gretchen had temporarily reassigned Ange as her assistant, something she was known for doing in order to protect a good field agent who needed to stay out of the field for a while.  Ange had been in her last week of work before maternity leave when EJ had taken a turn for the worse and his doctor had warned the Greens that it wouldn't be long before he passed.  Heather had contacted Gretchen with the news, and Gretchen had immediately assigned the task of locating Jake to Ange, telling her she could turn in her timesheet and go have that baby just as soon as he was on a plane headed home.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Heather wanted to know.  "I might have worried about you a smidge less, if I'd known that Ange was busy being your 'work wife'.  I mean, that's what a handler is, right?" she teased.

"That's pretty much what Ange was, yeah," he laughed.  "I was glad to have her as my handler, even if she was always raggin' on me to get more sleep and eat better.  And she was always on your side," Jake assured her.   "Kept telling me how wonderful you are, even though I already knew that.  And was perfectly happy - absolutely determined to - get me back to you.  My. Actual. Real. Wife," he emphasized, kissing her once for each word.  "Though, really, Ange was more like my work April - the work version of April.  That probably doesn't make sense," he frowned. 

"No, it makes sense.  Ange reminds me of April, too.  I was so grateful for her.  It took her two and a half days to find you the first time," Heather reminded him.  "I would've gone crazy if you'd been MIA much longer - either time," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair.  "And I know how hard she was tryin' to find you.  We were attached at the cell phone the whole time.  She said to call anytime, day or night, and I did.  I called at midnight the first night and got Steve - Ange was in the bathroom - and we talked for a minute or two. He said she'd woken him up and told him he had to answer if I called... and then she was there, giving me an update, telling me they knew where you were, that it just wasn't so easy to make contact, but that they would, and everything would work out."  Heather frowned, emitting a sad sigh.  "But I guess even if things are gonna get better now, the Wallers are probably dead, huh?"

Jake nodded.  It was the horrible truth that lurked in the background, always.  Denver was gone, and the only refugees they'd seen from the city had succumbed to radiation poisoning in less than a week.  Steve, Ange, and their son, Christopher had lived in one of the closer in suburbs, where city and county boundaries were just lines on the map that blurred away in the reality of how the Denver metro area all ran together.  "Well, it happened after six, right?   So, they were probably home - together - right?  At least there's that."

"Yeah," she agreed.  It was a very small comfort to think that the Wallers - their friends - had been together when they'd died.  Bonded by the experience of trying to locate Jake and get him home before his grandfather died, Heather and Ange had declared their undying friendship even before Jake had taken Heather to Denver so she could meet his 'guardian angel' for herself.  In the intervening two years they had spent three or four weekends with the Wallers at their comfortable and rambling home, and so it was easy for Heather to imagine that Steve and Ange had been eating dinner with little Christopher, or playing a game, or giving him a bath; that the three of them had been together at the end.  "I hope it was just over in an instant, from the initial blast, you know?  That they were together and that they didn't suffer."

"Me too," he murmured, tightening his arms around her.  Heather rested her head on his shoulder, and Jake craned his neck so he could press a kiss to her forehead.  "So," he began a long moment later, "How were you gonna tell me the big news if things had gone how you planned?  'Cause I assume the bathroom at Bailey's was not your first choice," he teased gently.

Lifting her head, Heather offered him a wan smile.  She knew he was trying to distract her - himself too - from their grim thoughts about the Wallers, and she appreciated it.  Still, it took some effort to put her speculations aside.  "No, I never planned for the bathroom at Bailey's," she confirmed, making a face.  "And that day, my only plan was the phone, so I was just hoping for a good cell connection," she chuckled softly.  "But really, I'd always imagined we'd be at home... I don't know, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom while I was throwing up?  I don't know that it matters where, just that we were together."

"That's what I wanted too," Jake sighed, his hand splayed over her pregnant belly.  "What I want.  To be together.  Run the ranch.  Breed horses.  Go to bed with you every night, see if we can't breed some babies too," he declared, leering at her affectionately.  "Though I guess we'd already taken care of that part," he chuckled, tickling her tummy.  "First round."

Heather blushed at that, but she laughed too, shaking her head at him. "Okay, first, I do give you major points for saying 'baby' - 'babies' even," she assured. "But second, I have to object to that juxtaposition. Horses to babies? That may make you a stud," she grumbled, complaining, "But it makes me a broodmare."

"Babe," he sighed, "Trust me, horse is that last thing I think of when I look at you."

"It sure better not be what you're thinkin'," she returned, smiling and leaning toward him.

Jake took the opportunity to kiss her, cupping her head with both hands as his lips roamed over hers. "How 'bout 'raise kids and horses'?" he offered when they broke apart. "Like that better?"

"Maybe," she replied, resting her forehead against his. "Kinda need the first to get to the second," Heather reasoned, giggling softly and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. "But that's how you'd get your rodeo champ - bred and made."

"Coach little league," Jake yawned, slurring his words a little. "Get a pitcher, too."

She laid her hand on his cheek and he turned into the caress, his eyes closing. "Jake, you need to go to bed," Heather reminded, worry lacing her voice. "You're exhausted," she diagnosed unnecessarily.

"Ever been so tired you can't 'member to go to bed?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," Heather confirmed. She climbed off his lap then, bracing her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "Which is why I know that you need me to make you," she declared, holding her hand out to him. "Get up, Jake," she commanded.

He surprised her, both by accepting her help and by doing as ordered without protest. However, it did not surprise her when, instead of moving toward the bed, he instead pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "Whaddabout your fantasy?" he asked, "The one that's not 'bout you an' me an' August?"

"Ha-ha.  Funny," she grumbled, pressing a kiss to his t-shirt, right over his heart. "You're stalling," she accused kindly, pulling out of his embrace. Heather captured both his hands and, walking backwards, led him the three steps to the bed.

"Wanna know," Jake argued, watching blearily as she began pulling back the covers, which now included three blankets, a comforter, and two quilts.

"Tell you what, get in and I'll tell you, like a bedtime story," Heather bargained, patting the mattress.

Jake frowned. "You're not comin' to bed?" he yawned.

"Oh, hon, I'm coming to bed, don't worry," she chuckled, smiling at him sympathetically. "It's almost ten," she informed him, checking her wristwatch, "And that's way, way past my bedtime these days."

"Okay," he acknowledged, flopping onto the bed. They had all been spending more time in bed, more time sleeping, in an effort to conserve heat, light, their own energy – everything. He didn't suppose that the airdrop had changed that completely. "Tell me," Jake mumbled as she helped him settle in.

"It's not exciting or shocking or anything, Jake," Heather warned, "I mean, you could probably guess…." They watched one another for a long moment before she shrugged and confessed, "I wanna see my dad, I wanna wake up some morning and find out that he's here – that he's come to Jericho. Like Mikey did. Like April wants August and Autumn to do. That's all."

She'd perched herself next to him, on the edge of the bed, one hand resting over their baby. He snaked his arm out from under the covers, catching her other hand in his. "Sounds good to me, though I don't think your dad would come alone," he said, knitting their fingers together.

"Hey, you’re not s'posed to be waking up," she complained, "You're supposed to go to sleep."

"Well, you're s'posed to tell me a bedtime story," he countered, "And that wasn't very good. No details." He squeezed her fingers, teasing, "You're gonna hafta get better at that."

"Nah, I think you're gonna be in charge of bedtime stories," Heather told Jake. She glanced down at her pregnant belly and then back at him, grinning. "B.G.'s already used to your stories," she reminded. "And… in my fantasy, I guess, Dad doesn't come alone. I mean, I wanna see Andy and John and Tommy, too – everybody," she shrugged.

"So what, it was like seventy, seventy five in the Buffalo contingent at our wedding?" Jake asked, stifling a yawn.

Heather nodded. "That's about right."

Jake propped himself up on his elbows, laying his hand against her stomach. "There's your bedtime story, B.G.," he whispered, tickling Heather's tummy.  "Grandpa Joe is gonna come blazing into town at the head of a caravan of all your relatives. And, you're gonna have all kinds of cousins to play with. And, aunts and uncles…. Uncles who're gonna freak out when you turn out to be a great horseman –"

"Or horsewoman," Heather interjected, grinning at him.

"Right, or horsewoman," he confirmed. "Of course, evil Mayor Gray will banish me from town when I try to bring seventy five refugees in, even if they are all amazing, wonderful Lisinskis – and who wouldn't love to have some extra Lisinskis around?" Jake asked, winking at Heather.

"Evil Mayor Gray, I'm thinkin'," she returned, chuckling softly. "But if we get banished…."

"Then we go back to our rightful kingdom, the Green Ranch," he supplied, "And live happily ever after."

"You weren't supposed to wake B.G. up," Heather sighed, though she was also smiling. Carefully, she guided Jake's hand over a few inches so he could feel their baby's kick. "I think he or she approves of the bedtime story, Dad." She leaned toward Jake, kissing him gently. "Me too. Yours is way better than mine."

"I hope it comes true, babe," Jake assured, "I really do."

"Me too," she repeated, her eyes suddenly bright. Heather stood up, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes and clearing her throat. "That reminds me of something," she announced. "Wait right there," she ordered, "And don't fall asleep quite yet."

"Well, I'm not goin' anywhere," Jake snorted, his gaze following her movements about the room. She crossed first to the desk to grab the lantern, and then walked to the dresser where she opened her jewelry box and retrieved something inside. Returning to the bed, Heather sat back down next to him. She held out her hand so he could see his wedding ring, sitting on her palm. "I've been wondering where that was," he muttered, reaching for it.

"Not so fast," Heather teased, pulling her hand back, her fingers closing around the ring. "Mikey gave it to me for safe keeping at the clinic that night," she explained, sighing softly, "When they had to take pretty much everything off you."

"I figured," he nodded. "Can I have it back?"

Heather smiled. "Give me your hand," she requested. Wordlessly, Jake did as she asked, watching her as she slid the ring back into place on his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed," she recited, "With my body I thee worship, and… with all my worldly goods I endow – or, I thee endow," she corrected herself, giggling softly.

"That is not what we said," Jake argued, twisting the ring on his finger until it set exactly how he liked it. "That's what I wanted to say," he reminded, "But you wouldn't let me."

"Hey, that wasn't my call," she protested, "Those words are from the Anglican service, and we couldn't force Reverend Young and Uncle Leo to use them in our crazy Catholic-Presbyterian ceremony when they didn't want to."

"Right," he acknowledged. "But you know, that's the closest to what I'd actually say myself. I meant everything I said that day, babe," Jake told her, pausing a moment to yawn. "Still do, always will. But that's the closest."

"I do know that," Heather agreed. Her hand found its way into his hair, and she rubbed his forehead with her thumb, drawing a satisfied sigh from Jake. She leaned in closer, murmuring, "And that's why I said it."

"With my body I thee worship," Jake repeated, reaching for her hand so he could kiss her palm.

"Absolutely," Heather confirmed, kissing him on the forehead. "Just as soon as your doctor clears you for worshipping, hon." Jake groaned in response, and she pressed her mouth to his, whispering, "Love you."

"Love you," he mumbled in return, his eyes falling closed. She started to stand up, and he grabbed for her, ending up with a handful of her – actually his – flannel shirt. "Come t' bed," Jake insisted.

"Well, I hafta change into pjs," she countered, picking up the lantern and glancing over at the desk. Jake's dishes were still there, and Heather knew that she should take them down to the kitchen… but, exhaling a long breath, she decided to let it go just this once. "And brush my teeth," she added, "But I'll be right back. Five minutes tops, okay?"

"'Kay," Jake agreed, finally letting go of her shirt.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
 
Sunday, January 6, five years before the bombs


"You have now officially met every relative – by blood, marriage or shirt tail – that I have," Heather declared, looking around the banquet room at the Lisinski family's favorite German restaurant.  "At least everyone who's within a two hour radius tonight," she amended, wrapping her arms around his neck in order to press a quick kiss to his mouth.  "Seriously, Jake, thank you," she murmured.

Placing his hands on her hips, Jake drew Heather even closer, telling her, "Seriously, you don't have to thank me.  This was easy and kinda fun.  Way better than skating," he teased, kissing her in return.  "Though I hafta admit, I don't remember half their names."

"Totally understandable," she assured.  "Even I almost didn't remember my cousin Nathan's wife's name," Heather confessed, leaning against his shoulder so she could whisper this information to him.  "The girlfriend he had right before he met her was Stacy, and she's Lacey, so… still that would not have gone over well at all," she laughed.

"Yeah, no joke," he chuckled along with her. Their gazes locked then, and Jake couldn't help but give into the impulse to tilt her chin up and kiss her again.

They had arrived at the restaurant not quite an hour before to find out that the family dinner Joe had insisted on was actually a surprise engagement party with more than sixty relatives in attendance.  Joe, aided and abetted by Deborah – her maternal uncle owned the restaurant – had managed to organize everything in just about thirty hours.  "I was glad you two went out to dinner with John and Kerry last night," he'd told them when things had calmed down following the ruckus that had ensued upon their arrival, "Gave me a chance to make my set of phone calls.  Luckily, Deb helped out with that, too.  Anyway, I thought it would be good to give everyone the chance to meet Jake sooner rather than later, sweetheart," Joe had continued, "I hope you don't mind."

"Dad, this is great," Heather had told her father, hugging him.  "Thank you," she'd added, kissing him on the cheek.

Jake had echoed her appreciation, shaking his future father-in-law's hand.  Clearly pleased with their reaction, Joe had made a short speech, welcoming everyone to the party and urging them all to eat.  "I told you my father is thrifty," Heather had reminded, as she and Jake had hung back, letting her relatives line up for the buffet.  "And, he's seriously never done anything like this before," she'd smiled, wrapping her arm around his.  "I know he said he approves… but wow, he really approves."

This statement had been corroborated – sort of – when Tommy had detoured past them to tease Heather a bit.  "So, you still think you're not Dad's favorite?" he'd challenged, but any sting she might have felt at his words was soothed by the hug he'd pulled her into, complete with a noisy kiss on the forehead.  "Admit it, you were totally surprised," he had demanded, his arm slung around her shoulders.  "We got you good," he'd practically crowed, "But good surprise, right?"

"Great surprise," she'd assured, letting her head rest on his shoulder.  "Thanks, Tommy."

At Jake's suggestion, they had decided to get the 'meet and greet' out of the way first.  They had followed Heather's two grandmothers – who, in deference to their age, had been permitted through the buffet line first – to their tables.  That had set up the pattern of the next forty minutes.  Holding his hand the entire time, Heather had led Jake around the room, proudly introducing him to her aunts, uncles, cousins, and even her brothers' in-laws.  They were a striking couple, and as charmed as everyone was by Jake, it was even more that they were enchanted by the vibrancy he brought out in Heather and the way the young couple seemed to spark off of one another even while they listened to yet another story that began 'when this one was little ….'

"FYI, priest at seven o'clock," Michael warned, sidling up beside them.  "Might wanna tone down the kissy-kissy thing."

"Mikey," Heather growled, though both she and Jake glanced over their shoulders to see her father and her uncle Leo – actually her father's cousin, but as she'd explained to Jake earlier, "We've always called him Uncle Leo" – heading toward them.  She found his hand with her own and, leaning against his arm, whispered against the fabric of his dress shirt, "I'm pretty sure this is interfering."

"Heather, Jake," Joe called out. "After our discussion this afternoon," he continued, once he and Leo – a priest in his mid-forties – were standing with the young couple, "I thought it might be good if you had the chance to talk to Leo.  Just for a few minutes," he assured, "But I'm sure he can help with some of your concerns."

"That'd be great," Jake said surprising Heather, who'd been ready to turn the offer down.  He held out his hand.  "Thank you, uh –"

"You can call me Leo," Leo smiled, shaking Jake's hand.  "I'm never truly off duty, but I am with family tonight, so I can just be Leo."

Jake nodded.  "Thank you, Leo."

"Okay, you two really should grab something to eat, while there's still something left," Deborah informed Jake and Heather in a rush of breath, as she joined the small knot that had formed around them.  "I've got Rebekah guarding the last of the Leberkaese for you, Heth," she added, adjusting her son on her hip.  "But she's only six, so she can't hold 'em off forever.  Jake, I don't know if you have a favorite, but I think there's still enough of everything if you guys go now."

"Uncle Leo –" Heather began, glancing at the priest.

"Go," he advised.   "I'll be sitting right over there," he added, pointing at an unoccupied table in the back corner of the room.  "But if you see any Apfelkuchen…"

"Cake comes later!" Deborah laughed, throwing him an exasperated look.  "Three kinds, plus champagne.  Our bride and groom need to eat first," she reminded, sighing, "But there is coffee, would you like me to get you a cup?"

"So what is this Leberkaese that has to be guarded for you?" Jake teased, following Heather to the buffet table.

"Like really good meatloaf," she answered.  "Well, it's beef and ham ground together, so beef and ham loaf.  In a sandwich it's Leberkaessemmel, but I like it on its own with mustard.  Leberkaes mit Senf."

"Wir sprechen nur Speisekarte Deutsch," Michael, who'd tagged along with them, interjected.

Heather made a face.  "Mikey, your accent is horrible," she complained.  "And he said that we only speak menu German," Heather translated for Jake's benefit.  "Which is true.  That's what Mom always said about us, anyway.  She spoke pretty much perfect German, but they didn't teach it at Sacred Heart or St. Mike's, so none of us learned it, just picked up enough to order in restaurants." 

She immediately went to work proving that statement, leading Jake through the buffet, naming each of the dishes.  Michael, saying that he was still a growing boy – a claim that earned him twin eye rolls from his sister and her fiancé – followed along behind them, filling up a second plate.  He didn't get any Leberkaese, however, as it turned out Deborah had judged that correctly, and there really were only two servings left.  "Okay, Mikey, you're not invited for this next part, so we'll see you later," Heather told her brother, who shrugged and wandered off to join a table of teenaged cousins.

Joe was sitting with Leo when the couple appeared at their table, but with admirable grace, Leo dismissed his cousin, insisting that he would be more comfortable speaking alone with Heather and Jake.  "Thanks," Heather murmured, once she judged her father to be out of earshot.

"Your father means well, Heather," Leo reminded, smiling kindly.  "But the decision to marry is your decision," he continued, including Jake with a glance.  "As is how you decide to marry.  And, I understand that you have concerns, and perhaps I can help alleviate some of those."  He paused a moment, clearing his throat, then asked, "Would it be all right if we begin as I would with any couple who came to me, asking to be married?"

"Sure," Jake answered for them both, finding her hand underneath the table, and squeezing it.

"How did you meet?" Leo inquired.

"I stopped to help Heather change a tire," Jake returned.  "Though it turned out we would've met about twenty minutes later, anyway," he continued, stabbing together a bite of Kartoffelsalat.  "We were actually both heading to the same place."

"Jake's grandfather's ranch," Heather supplied, shifting in her seat.  "I was – I was meeting with Jake's grandfather about something for school, and Jake lives there."

"So you two are not cohabitating?  Or planning to?" Leo asked, glancing between them.  "It wouldn't be a problem, necessarily, if you were," he explained quickly.  "But I probably won't be the last priest to ask you that question."

"We're not," Heather declared forcefully.  "I've got a morals clause in my teaching contract," she admitted, "So that pretty much decides that.  Plus there's my dad."

"My parents, too – and my grandfather," Jake added.  "They wouldn't approve.  Besides," he shrugged, "Once we're married, we have the rest of our lives together, right?"

"You might choose to just answer 'no' when you speak with Father Bouchard," Leo advised with a dry chuckle.  "And, how long have you known one another?"

Heather and Jake looked at one another.  This fact hadn't come up in their discussion that afternoon, but they had both read that question on the form, and they had both recognized that this might prove to be a sticking point.  Heather licked her lips, and exhaling, replied, "Since October.  Three months.  And I know that doesn't seem like a long time but –"

"I'm not here to judge you, Heather," Leo interrupted, "Or you, Jake."

"All those forms we looked at this afternoon seemed pretty judge-y to me," Heather returned with a frown. 

"Those forms are ultimately a – well, a formality," Leo contradicted, sighing.  "A way to spark discussion, really.  Jake," he continued after a moment's pause, "You're not Catholic, but you are baptized?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, meeting the priest's eye.  Thankfully, Jake thought to himself.  "Presbyterian.  When I was a baby."

"So you will simply need a mixed marriage dispensation, and that truly is a formality," Leo said, sounding relieved.  "Heather, you'll have to declare and promise to rear your children as Catholic, but otherwise the priest – Father Bouchard, I presume – will forward his recommendation to the Diocesan Marriage Tribunal, and that should be that.  This is the same body that deals with divorce in the church," he explained, "And so the one thing they don't want to do is grant a dispensation, and then be dealing with your divorce three, four, ten years down the line." 

"Which they won't be," Jake assured, reaching for Heather's hand.  "We both intend a permanent marriage," he added, purposely quoting the form they had looked at that afternoon.

"Good," Leo acknowledged absently.  He leaned in closer over the table, his brow furrowed.  "Though… your father said that you will be living in Kansas?" he prompted.

Heather nodded.  "Yes.  And I read that in the folder, too," she confessed in a rush of breath.  "That marriage should take place in the parish where the 'Catholic party' lives.  I'd always heard it as the 'home parish' before…. I mean, this is my home parish, but I live in Jericho – in Kansas – now."

"Well then, the tribunal may require a declaration and permission from your priest in Jericho, just to confirm that you are continuing in your faith practice," Leo warned.  "Father Bouchard baptized you, gave you your first communion… I've no doubt that he'll recommend the mixed marriage dispensation, but the tribunal may require more."    He exhaled softly, then, frowning, continued.  "I mentioned this to your father, and don't think he really liked the idea, but you could get married in Jericho.  Then at least you wouldn't need to deal with coordinating everything between two dioceses."

Considering this, Heather took a bite of her Schwarzbroetchen, chewing it slowly.  "There actually isn't a Catholic Church in Jericho," she admitted finally.  "And I've tried a couple of the churches in nearby towns, but they're all rather small, and I don't really fit in, demographically speaking." 

"Older congregations, I take it?" Leo surmised.

"Yeah," Heather replied.  "Lately I've just been attending Jake's family's church.  "Which," she giggled nervously, "Probably doesn't give you the warm fuzzies about me raising our children as Catholics."

"I would encourage you to continue searching for a parish home," Leo countered, sidestepping the issue.  "And also tell you that you could choose to marry in Jake's church."

"Well, I don't –" Jake began, only to be interrupted by Heather.

"We could do that?" she asked, surprised.

"It would require an additional dispensation – on top of the first – so you would still need to work with a priest in your diocese," Leo explained, "But it is possible.  Of course, your father will probably be even less thrilled that I told you that," he chuckled guiltily, "But I think he's more concerned –"

"With me staying Catholic," Heather supplied for him.  "Which isn't even an issue," she insisted, taking a bite of Leberkaese.  She glanced sideways at Jake.  "We respect each other's beliefs."

"That's good to know," Leo smiled.  "And in that case, I would counsel that however you decide to marry, find a parish you're comfortable in.  Talk to the priest there, talk to Jake's pastor, and unfortunately, jump through all the hoops.  If you don't…." he sighed, "You won't be married in the eyes of the church, and, Heather, you won't be able to receive sacraments," he warned.

"Which would kill my dad," she muttered, slumping a little in her chair.  "And it would bother me, too," she admitted.

"So we just do what we need to do," Jake declared, squeezing her shoulder.  "Jump through the hoops," he added, gesturing at Leo, "And everybody's happy, right?"

"Hopefully," Leo agreed.  "And, if you need any advice – or just want to complain a little – you can always call me."

"Thanks, Leo," Jake said, offering the priest his hand.

"Yes, thank you, Uncle Leo," Heather echoed.

"So that wasn't too painful, I hope?" Leo inquired.

"It was helpful," Heather contradicted with a smile.  She glanced sideways at Jake, adding, "I'm still not sure what we're gonna do, but I usually start with research, so this was good.  Thanks," she repeated.  "And, you didn't ask if I was pregnant," she laughed, somewhat self-consciously.  "Which is a really nice change."

"Uh-hmmm," Leo responded.  "Well, it is a question that sometimes must be asked," he informed them, chuckling uncomfortably.  "But Joe took pains to assure me that you weren't, and – well – I got the impression that it was a sensitive subject."

Heather rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, thanks to my brothers."

"Your brothers love you, Heather," Leo reminded, offering her a kind smile.

"They do," she agreed.  "And they love to embarrass me, too."

Leo pushed back from the table and stood up.  "Well, think I'll get another cup of coffee.  Leave you two to finish your dinner."

"Thanks for your help, Leo," Jake repeated.  Beneath the cover of the tablecloth his hand found its way to her knee where he worried her soft skin with the pad of his thumb.  Watching for her reaction, Jake cut off a piece of Leberkaese with his fork and, after dipping it in mustard, ate it.  "You're right," he told her, "This stuff's pretty good."

"I thought you'd like it," she returned, a husky quality in her voice.  Heather leaned in close to Jake, brushing his lips with her own.  "I think I know you pretty well," she declared.

Grinning, he nodded.  "You do know what I like," he murmured, while under the table he quickly sketched out 'I ♥ U' on her leg.

"Me too," she giggled against his mouth, kissing him again.

A few seconds later, however, the arrival of no less than six of Heather's female relatives – Kerry, her aunts Heidi and Ava, Jessica, and two other cousins whose names Jake was pretty sure were Annaliese and Michelle – forced them to separate.  "Okay, break it up," Jessica teased, rolling her eyes. 

"Yeah," Kerry threw in, "There's kids and clergy present."

"And Uncle Joe," Annaliese – Jake guessed – added. 

"Besides, we're here to discuss important, official wedding business: the scheduling of your Buffalo bridal shower," Jessica explained as, en masse, the six women sat down at the table.

"And I think that's my cue," Jake announced, starting to stand up, though Heather's hand on his arm was enough to stop him.

"We don't actually have a wedding date yet, Jess," Heather interrupted.  "So planning a bridal shower might be premature."

Michelle looked surprised.  "Why were you talkin' to Uncle Leo then?"

"And, you have a wedding month," Kerry interjected, "That's good enough."

"This is an official duty of the maid of honor," Jessica reminded, "And I take my duty very seriously."

"Okay, I'm really leaving now," Jake declared, kissing Heather quickly before climbing to his feet.  "You don't need me for this," he assured as he picked up his dinner plate.

"Sorry," Jessica apologized, clearly unrepentant.  "So I have two words for you all – words that Jake'll like," she added, watching as he beat a hasty retreat to a table occupied by Heather's brothers and male cousins.  "Lingerie shower."

* * * * *

"Hey," Heather greeted, laying a hand on Jake's shoulder. 

"Hey," he returned, standing up and turning around in one fluid motion.  Heather was just behind his chair, flanked by Rebekah and Ali, who was dancing around so much that even Jake recognized that she needed to go to the bathroom.  "You're free," he teased, offering her a wide smile.

"We'll see," she laughed.  Heather had finally escaped her cousin's clutches by agreeing to a 'lingerie and linens' bridal shower – the addition of linens was her Aunt Ava's idea – and by promising to settle on a date before the end of the month.  "Right now, we're headed for the ladies' room," she explained.  "By the way, you're welcome, Andy and Tommy," she added, throwing them each a pointed look.

"What?  It's not like we can take 'em, Heth," Tommy protested, reminding, "There are urinals in the men's room, and I am not explaining that."

"Auntie Heather," Ali whined, tugging on Heather's hand.

"Fine, whatever," Heather sighed.   "But they're getting ready to serve dessert," she told Jake, "And it sounds like Dad wants to make a toast, and wants us to stand up there with him, so I wanted to warn you."

"That's fine," Jake agreed, "Whatever he wants." 

"Thanks," she smiled, kissing him.  Much too soon, Heather pulled away and looked down at her two charges.  "Okay, let's go," she told them before hurrying them across the banquet room.

Jake watched the three of them until they were out of sight, and when he turned around, his companions couldn't help but chuckle at his smitten expression.

"Oh man, do you have it bad," John snickered.

"Well, it's not like we could let Heather marry any guy who didn't look at her all goofy like that," Tommy argued, surprising them all.  "We want him to have it bad," he reasoned, looking around the table at his dumbfounded brothers and cousins.  "Though, in a completely pure and innocent way," Tommy finished, his narrowed gaze settling on Jake. "'Cause she still better not be pregnant."

Groaning softly, Jake sank back into his chair.  "She's not pregnant."

"I think he just suddenly realized what his life's gonna look like in seven or eight years," Andrew joked a few seconds later.  "Though, don't get me wrong, kids are fun."

"More like nine or ten years," Jake argued.  Andrew was right though, he had – in Heather's words – had a moment of 'thinking ahead' as he'd watched her walk away with the girls.  It was a future that, though it still sort of surprised him, he found he was looking forward to… eventually.  "We're gonna have kids," he shrugged, "We're just not in a hurry."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Heather's cousin Adam snorted.  "This family, everyone starts worrying when you reach your first anniversary and there's no sign of a baby."

"Most awkward conversation of my life," Andrew moaned.  "Oma cornering me at Easter Sunday dinner to tell me to wear boxer shorts, because Oprah says it promotes conception," he complained, shaking his head.  "Plus, Deb was already pregnant, it was just early and she didn't want to tell everybody yet." 

"Ha!" Tommy declared, "That's classic."  He glanced at John, his brow furrowing.  "And you know, John and Kerry are comin' up on a year here…."

Nathan – whose pregnant wife, Lacey, Jake had met earlier – flashed Tommy a conspiratorial grin.  "Maybe I should go find Oma," he threatened.

"Be glad you live in Kansas," John advised Jake, rolling his eyes.  "I'm startin' to think Heather had a plan for this from the beginning."

"You never know," Jake chuckled, though the fact of the matter was neither of them could have planned for their relationship.  There were a lot of things you could plan in life – weddings and bridal showers and when to have kids came to mind – but falling in love wasn't one of them.  Falling in love was a leap of faith, and somehow, despite her natural inclination toward planning, Heather had taken that leap for him – with him.  "Heather's plans are usually pretty good so…."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw the two little girls return from the restroom, Ali climbing into her father's lap and Rebekah stopping next to Andrew's chair.  "Where's Heather, bub?" he asked her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Mark wanted to talk to her," Rebekah answered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, "So she told us to come back."

Instantly, the hair on the back of Jake's neck stood up.  He glanced over at John, who also looked distinctly unhappy with this news.  "So you guys don't have a cousin Mark, right?"

"Three Michaels, no Marks," John returned, his tone clipped.

Jake nodded once in acknowledgment, and then he was out of his chair moving toward the door. 

"Hey," Tommy scowled at his brother over the top of his daughter's head.  "He's your friend," he reminded.  "Did you tell him we'd –"

"We're not friends," John interrupted, "Not any more.  After everything happened, he called me – once – to tell me what a bi – what a 'B' Heather is," he said, censoring himself in the nick of time.  The last thing he needed was his sisters-in-law on him for swearing in front of their kids.  "I told him the he was an A-hole and that was the end of that.  We're not friends," he insisted angrily.

"Nah, Tommy, Deb said that his cousin's kid is in Cub Club," Andrew added, defending John.   "She saw Jake when they were there on Thursday."  He paused a moment, looking between his two brothers.  "You don't think he'd start a fight or somethin'?"

"Which one?" Tommy returned.  "Though if Jake takes a swing at Mark, I hope he ends up out cold on the ground.  He deserves it."

"Maybe we should go out there," Andrew said, making absolutely no move to get up from his chair.

Frowning, John pushed back from the table and stood up.  "I'm gonna tell Dad what's goin' on."

* * * * *

Heather and Mark were the only people in the restaurant's lobby when Jake exited the banquet room.  Her back was to him, and Mark was talking, clearly angry, as he took a step toward her, trying to invade her space.  "You're such a lying, using bitch, Heather," he sneered.  "Six months ago you weren't ready to get married, but now you're all hot to marry some asshole you just met."

"I told you, I'm sorry that I hurt you, Mark," Heather replied, taking two steps back.  "I don't know what else you want from me."

"I want you to admit it," he demanded, moving toward her again.

"Admit – admit what?" she asked, her voice cracking softly.  "Mark, I didn't love you," Heather told him, "Of course I couldn't marry you!"

"Hey, babe."  Jake announced his presence, stopping at her side and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Jake!" she declared, her relief readily apparent.  She leaned against him, offering him a shaky smile before her gaze darted back toward Mark.  "What – what's going on?"

"Time for dessert," he told her, working to keep his tone light.  "Your dad wants us for the big toast," he lied.

"So, you're the cowboy," Mark accused snidely, glaring at Jake. 

Jake stared at the other man.  Apparently Mark was getting his information from Tommy's radio program, he thought, suppressing a snort.  "Guess I am," he confirmed finally.

"Well, good luck, pal," Mark sneered.  He cocked his head toward Heather.  "'Cause with her, you're gonna need it.  She's nothin' but a two-faced, lying –"

"Okay, first of all, she isn't," Jake interrupted, raising his voice so that he cut off and drowned out Mark's vile accusation.  "And second, you're a prick.  You're not right for her, you're not good enough for her –"

"And you are?" Mark snapped.

"At least I try to be," Jake barked in return.  "You wanted to marry her?  What for?" he questioned, his tone clipped.  "So you could saddle her with a bunch of kids?  Trap her, have her handy to show off to the guys at work, or at some country club – wherever the hell it is you go that makes you feel like you're a big shot?"  He paused a moment, his free hand forming into a fist that he ground against his leg.  "Did you ever bother to just listen to her?  Find out what she wanted?" Jake demanded.  "Did you even care to figure out what she's passionate about?"

Mark laughed at that, a grating, almost menacing sound that made Heather cringe.  "Heather Lisinski, passionate?  That's a joke," he scoffed.  "She's an ice princess."

"Oh man, are you a goddamn idiot," Jake told him, shaking his head.  He glanced sideways at Heather, needing to know that she was okay.  Her hand on his arm was clammy, and she stared back at him, eyes wide, but she didn't make any move to stop him, and so he plowed on.

"She's got more passion in her little finger than most people have in their whole bodies," Jake informed Mark, who started to chuckle.  "And now you're laughing," he charged, "Because you think I have no idea what I'm talkin' about, when really, you should be scared shitless because you – you had her for two years," Jake reminded, moving toward Mark, who quickly stepped back.  Jake started to press in on him again, but Heather reached for his hand and it was enough to stop him.  He took a deep breath.  "But somehow you never figured out what turns her on."

"Right," Mark growled, his lip curling as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 "And now you're gonna smirk like you're some thirteen year old kid who just got his first look at a titty magazine," Jake accused.  "Because you think I'm talkin' about sex… when really, I'm talking about everything.  Everything," he emphasized.  "This woman," Jake continued, reaching for her hand and then clutching it in his own, "She's passionate about everything – life, her job, her students, her family, friends… about everything that's right and – and good in the world." 

"You watch –" he paused a moment, laughing softly to himself at the thought.  "You watch a nature show on TV with her, and she's passionate about the baby turtle that hatches on the beach and then has to crawl into the ocean and swim ten thousand miles for – I don't know why hell the turtle has to swim ten thousand miles," he admitted, "It just does, so you know what?  You cheer for the turtle, right along with her, 'cause if you don't think that kinda passion translates…."

"I don't know why I'm tellin' you this," Jake realized.  Mark just looked pissed, like he wanted nothing more than to take a swing at Jake, and why the hell should he care if this dipshit ever figured out the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground?   "You know what?" he decided then, "I should just thank you.  Thank you for being the goddamn prick that hurt her enough that she wanted to try somewhere new.  I could kill you for hurting her," Jake assured him, "But I wouldn't have met her without you… wouldn't be marrying her," he reminded, flashing Heather a smile.  "And that – that pretty much makes my life.  So thanks."

Twisting around, Heather threw herself into Jake's arms, which opened automatically for her.  She burrowed against his chest, her breath leaving a warm, wet spot on his shirt.  Jake, keeping his gaze on a seething, sputtering Mark, flashed the other man a smug smile before pressing a kiss to the top of Heather's head.

"Mark, I think you better rejoin your party now," Joe Lisinski ordered, moving to stand with the young couple.  "Please."

"Yeah, good idea."  He scowled at Jake.  "You can have her."

Heather lifted her head from Jake's chest, making a face as the three of them watched Mark stomp back into the main dining room.  "Uh, thanks," she muttered, "But it's not really up to you."  Shaking her head, she glanced at her father.  "Dad?"

"I honestly have no desire to eavesdrop on you two all the time," he assured.  "But your brothers were worried that Mark might punch Jake – or, the other way around, I guess," Joe sighed.

"You okay?" Jake asked Heather, tilting her chin with one hand so he could see her eyes.  "We okay?"

"Most definitely," she declared, wrapping her arms around his neck, "Though you know, I really do hate it when you insist on saying nice things about me, and defending my honor and all that."

"Sorry," he apologized, kissing her on the nose.  Clearing his throat, Jake looked sideways at her father.  "Joe, uh, I'm –"

"Jake, I've wanted to tell Mark off for months," Joe interrupted, "I probably would've been … less colorful in my word choice," he decided, chuckling softly, "But I'm not gonna complain about the delivery when I agree one hundred percent with the message."

"Okay," Jake acknowledged, a slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  "And, I wasn't gonna hit him," he assured, "Not first, anyway."

"Unfortunately, I doubt any of it will stick," Heather sighed, turning to face her father.  Jake pulled her back against him, hugging her around the shoulders.  "Mark is gonna think what he wants to think," she continued, shrugging.  "He'd already seen you when he ambushed me," she told Jake, leaning her head back so she could catch his eye.   "Peeked into the banquet room, I guess.  And, he already knew I was engaged from Tommy's show, so he must've put two and two together."  Heather paused for a few seconds before explaining, "He thinks I'm shallow.  Apparently, the reason I'll marry you when I wouldn't marry him is that you're better looking.  Which is true," she informed him, grinning shyly, "But still not the reason I'm marrying you."

"Oh my gosh!" she declared a moment later, pulling away from her fiancé.  "You're blushing!" she accused, giggling and gaping at him.  "I wasn't even sure you could blush!"

"I can't believe you're not blushing," Jake countered.

"Jake, you're gorgeous," she informed him, "Which I've thought since the moment I met you.  And I know you know I thought that," Heather chuckled, watching in amazement as the color crept down onto his neck.  "You knew I was ogling you the whole time you changed my tire," she reminded.

"Well, it's a mutual feeling," Jake replied, exhaling nervously.  He glanced quickly at her father – Joe's expression was somewhere between embarrassed and curious – and then back at Heather, offering her a smile.  "'Cause you're pretty gorgeous yourself."

"And you know what that means?  We're gonna have beautiful babies, that's what," she said, answering her own question.  "Ten – twenty – times prettier than my purely hypothetical and completely imaginary offspring with Mark."

Jake made a face at the thought, asking, "But doncha think it's more important that our kids be smart?"

"Oh, they'll be smart," Heather shrugged, "Smart's a given.  We're gonna have beautiful, brilliant, genius babies."

The hostess came back into the lobby then.  The restaurant closed early on Sundays – though they were staying open later for the engagement party – and the last of the patrons had been seated in the main dining room twenty minutes before.  "Is something the matter?" she asked Joe, frowning.

"Not at all," he assured her, "Thank you.  And, I think I'll get back to the party," he continued a few seconds later. "Let you two have a moment."

"Thanks, Dad," Heather smiled.

Joe started to turn toward the banquet room, but then stopped himself, rotating back around to face his daughter and her intended.  "Jake, one day you're gonna find yourself the father of a little girl.  Least, I hope so," he sighed.  "And on that day, I'm gonna take you out for a beer.  And, we're gonna talk about daughters.  Or maybe, I'll do all the talking," he chuckled, "And you'll indulge me because, you and I, we both love my daughter."

"Yeah, we do," Jake agreed, "And, I… look forward to it."

"Don't take too long," Joe advised, "There's a roomful of people in there that want their cake."

"Wait a sec, Dad," Heather requested as he started to turn away.  "I just – I wanted to let you know, when we get back to Jericho… we're gonna look into getting married there," she explained quickly.  "That's not a decision – not a final decision, anyway," she admitted, "But… that's where we live.  And it's gotta be easier to plan a wedding where you live than from fifteen hundred miles away," Heather reasoned, frowning gently.

"Well, that makes sense," Joe acknowledged.

"Are you sure?" Heather asked, biting her lip.  "I don't want – I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Sweetheart, the only way you could hurt me is if you didn't invite me to your wedding," Joe told her.  "That, I'd object to."

"Dad, you're definitely invited," she assured, heaving a relieved sigh.  "You even get to walk me down the aisle.  And wherever – however – we get married, it will be with all the paperwork and dispensations, and everything.  Promise."

"I'm glad for that," Joe acknowledged with a smile. "Though I hope, for Jake's sake, the paperwork isn't too bad." 

"Could be wrong," his future son-in-law shrugged, "But I can't see how the Catholic Church could have more paperwork requirements than the federal government."

Chortling softly, Joe nodded.  "I hope you're right," he said, shaking Jake's hand, "But it could be worse."  Next, he kissed his daughter on the forehead, telling them both, "Don't take too long.  Deb and Bekah can't hold 'em off forever."

Jake and Heather stood silently together as they watched Joe cross the small lobby and then re-enter the banquet room.  "You know what's the one thing I forgot to say?" Jake asked, guiding her so that she turned around and he could pull her into his embrace.  "That only a total jackass asks a woman to marry him two weeks after her mother died."

"So true," Heather sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck.  "But you know what?  I don't care a rat's ass about anything to do with Mark Metzger anymore.  I'm banishing him from my brain."

"Rat's ass?" Jake questioned, smirking.  "I think I'm a bad influence on you."

"Well, sorry to ruin the picture you have of me as this… super pure person, but I did occasionally curse before I met you," Heather argued.  "I've cursed since then too.  You've heard me."

"Barely," he scoffed.  "Like two, maybe three times."

 "Jake, Tommy taught me how to swear like – well, like a hockey player when I was eight," Heather informed him.  "And I actually have yet to encounter a new-to-me curse word since."  Chuckling at his incredulous expression, she kissed him on the cheek.  "He wasn't too smart about it though, 'cause he taught me what to say, and then he had me do it for all his friends which left them howling of course….  But he forgot to tell me not to do it for my dad."

"Oh man," Jake groaned, "Seriously, how is he still alive?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much the question," she confirmed, grinning.  "He spent the rest of that summer grounded – and this all happened, like, two days after school let out.  So, now any time I even consider making him my favorite big brother, that's what everyone reminds me of."  Linking their hands together, Heather led Jake over to the bench farthest from the hostess stand.  "It's just, I work with kids," Heather reminded, seating herself.  "And, the whole thing made a very vivid impression on me, seeing my father turn so many different colors in so short a time," she explained, letting her head rest against his arm.  "So I pretty much save my potty mouth for when I'm really mad or really scared."

"Well, I still don't want to be a bad influence on you," he told her.  "Or, I guess, a second bad influence on you," Jake amended, shaking his head. "And did we not run into Tommy in church this morning?" he complained.

"Trust me, he lives in silent, abject terror that one day I'll teach Ali my magic hundred and fifty seven words," Heather returned.  "'Cause it's not my brake lines Mandy'll be cutting if that happens." 

"A hundred and fifty seven words?" Jake repeated, his eyes wide.  "I don't know that I know that many cuss words.  And you said them all to your dad?"

"Well," she shrugged, "Some were the same words, just in different combinations.  And, I only got like twenty, thirty words out for my dad," Heather explained.   "'Cause, I'm pretty sure he knew where I was goin', and he –"

 "Didn't want to hear that comin' out of his little girl's mouth," Jake supplied for her.

"I don't think he'd enjoy hearing that particular string of words coming out of anyone's mouth.  But it really was a hundred fifty seven words," Heather insisted, smoothing the hem of her skirt over her knee.  "I wrote it all down once, and counted.  It's pretty much burned into my brain.  I could probably still –"

"No," Jake interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her.  "I'm not – I don't think I could take that," he admitted, chuckling uneasily.  "I mean, what if it gets really weird, and then I couldn't kiss you, or something?"

"Forever?" Heather inquired, trying not to laugh at him.  "You'd never, ever be able to kiss me again?" she teased, leaning toward him so that her mouth almost brushed his.

He kissed her.  "Probably not forever," Jake conceded a few seconds later, pressing another kiss to her forehead.  "But still, why risk it, right?"

"Why risk it," she agreed.  "And, honestly, some of those words – now that I know what they mean – I don't wanna say.  But, you're not a bad influence," she assured him, "And I'm not some wilting flower who's gonna swoon if you occasionally need to express yourself in, as my father says, 'colorful' language, okay?" 

Jake looked conflicted, but he nodded.  "Okay."

"Just try not to swear at me," she requested.  "Because I really don't enjoy being called a b –"

"Don't say that," he ordered, placing a finger on her lips.  "Now you're making me wish I'd hit him," he complained. 

"No need," Heather dismissed, kissing his finger.  "We don't give a rat's ass about him, remember?"

"You say so," Jake grumbled.

"But you know what I do like being called?" Heather demanded, grinning widely.  She didn't wait for him to guess.  "A woman.  You called me a woman," she told him, "Twice." 

"Babe, you are a woman," he reminded, throwing her a confused look.  "That's one thing I'm pretty damn confident about.  In fact, isn't that the question some priest is gonna ask me?  'Jake, do you take this woman to be your wife'?" he teased.  "And then I'm gonna say, 'Abso-friggin'-loutely!'"

"How 'bout you say 'I do'," Heather suggested, giggling, "But I'll know you really mean 'Abso-friggin'-loutely'?"

"Yeah, that'll probably go over better with your dad, huh?"

"Probably.  And with your mom," she added.  "Plus, your dad, Gramps, the priest and/or pastor," Heather sighed.  "All of whom, coincidentally, are people who refer to me – think of me – as a young woman.  And, I know, from their perspectives, that's what I am," she conceded, "But there's still a difference – a big one – and I'm just glad that you think of me as a woman."

Jake didn't really know what to say to that, so he settled for kissing her again.  "We probably need to get back in there, huh?" he asked when they pulled apart.

"Yeah," she agreed, accepting his hand and allowing Jake to pull her to her feet.  "Let's go."


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

Saturday, December 30, three months after the bombs


Taking the lantern with her, Heather headed to the bathroom first, hurrying through her dental hygiene routine. There was real toothpaste again, a small tube from the airdrop that still needed to be conserved, but that was a million times better than the two weeks they had gone completely without – not that there had been much to eat, or much to brush away. Back in the bedroom, Jake was snoring softly, as he often did when he slept on his back. She paused for a moment, just inside the door, observing him, happy – thrilled – to have him back here with her where he belonged, even if he was snoring. Besides, it wasn't as if he ever sawed logs the way she was quite aware both his father and brother could.

She pulled a set of long underwear and then a pair of flannel pajamas out of the dresser, the same clothes she'd been wearing to bed for almost two weeks, changing quickly.  The pajamas were too big on her when she wasn't pregnant, the pants especially, but now she could pull them up over her baby bump without worrying about them falling down or being too long.   Starting to button on her pajama top, Heather found her thoughts drifting to another evening.

"Okay... I'm startin'... to think... maybe... I like... these pajamas," Jake had murmured, kissing his way along Heather's now exposed shoulder – undoing the top's first button had given him the access he'd needed – and then up her neck. "Least…on you."

"I can tell," she'd chuckled throatily. "Though, I did get them for you," Heather had reminded. She'd presented them to him earlier in the evening but Jake, having last owned pajamas when he was ten, had been less than enthusiastic about acquiring a new pair.  It had been then that she'd suggested that they split the pajamas, even performing a little striptease for him as she'd changed out of her street clothes and into the pajama top.  "Personally, I prefer the flannel to the sweats you wore the last time we were here," she'd sighed, trailing her hand down his bare chest to the waistband of his pajama pants.

"'Cause I was sharing a room with your brother," Jake had argued, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Couldn't really wear my usual," he'd reminded – his usual being a pair of shorts, if that.

"And now you get to share with me," Heather had reminded, twisting around until she could twine her arms around his neck. "Isn't that way better?" she'd inquired, brushing her mouth over his. "Plus, you still need something to wear to the bathroom or down to breakfast.  And, they're Christmassy."

"Way better," he'd agreed, undoing the next button on her pajama top. "But you can keep this," Jake had told her, fingering her collar. "Looks way better on you."

Giggling quietly, Heather had lain back on the mattress. "You might wanna see how you like it off me too."

Jake had groaned. "I'm not sure I can do this with your dad just across the hall, babe," he'd warned, though he'd continued to work on removing the pajama top she was wearing as a nightgown.

"Oh, I think you can," Heather had contradicted, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's not … like he's … gonna … bust in … on us," she'd reminded between kisses.

"I dunno," Jake had argued as his lips traced their way along her jaw.

"We're married, Jake," she'd snorted, "He knows we make love."

"Yeah, but not here," he'd grumbled, pulling away. Lying on his side, Jake had propped himself up on one elbow. "I mean," he'd said, gesturing at the trundle bed a foot away from the twin bed – her childhood bed – they were laying in, "He set up the second bed –"

"Actually, I did that," Heather had interrupted, her expression sheepish. "This morning, before you got here." She'd been coming from Wichita, Jake from Denver, and while her flight had gotten out Friday evening, his had been canceled. "I didn't know for sure –"

"You didn't know?" Jake's tone had been incredulous. "Babe, I like – love – sleeping with you, even if I can't sleep with you," he'd assured, "You gotta know that."

"I know," she'd chuckled self-consciously, "But this really is a dinky little bed. I should've told Dad we were taking over the guest room, just wasn't thinkin'."

"It's fine, Heather," he'd told her, starting to work on her pajama top from the bottom this time. "I get it. This is your old room, you're comfortable here.  Just means the next ten nights we're gonna hafta sleep very, very close," he'd grinned.

"And that's such a hardship," she'd drawled, matching his mock-serious tone.

"Hardship, no," he'd shrugged. "But the photo of you and your parents at your first communion could be a real problem," Jake had decided, cocking his head toward the nightstand.  "Seriously, it's like your dad is staring at me. And he's totally thinking 'Jake, don't you go ravishing my daughter under my roof'."

Heather had rolled her eyes. "Okay first, I seriously doubt my father ever thinks the word 'ravish'," she'd countered. "It's a little too romance novel for him.  And second, I think you are in a bit of a quandary here, mister, because his daughter – also known as your wife – demands that you do your husbandly duty and ravish her."  Slowly, she'd dragged her fingers across his stomach to emphasize her point.  "Maybe more than once."

"Hmmm," Jake had murmured, pretending to consider her 'demand' while at the same time undoing the last button on her pajama top. "Well, when you put it that way, guess it's not much of a quandary after all, is it?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she had pulled him down for a kiss.  "I thought you might see it my way," she'd giggled against his mouth.  But in the next moment Heather had realized that he'd been distracted once again by the picture on the nightstand at the head of the bed.  "Don't stare at it – at him!" she'd growled.  "Fine," she'd muttered a few seconds later, scooting herself far enough up the mattress that she'd been able to twist around and knock the picture frame over on its face.  "Better?" she'd inquired.

"Smart thinkin'," Jake had confirmed with a grin.  "My wife's got beauty and brains," he'd teased, threading his hands through her hair.
 
"Well, you know what they say," she'd returned huskily.  Heather had shrugged away her top, enjoying the hungry gleam in his eye.  "Flattery will get you everything."

Finishing off the last button on her pajama top, Heather couldn't help but smile at her memory of that night just over four years before. Jake was right; what they had together was wonderful and precious, it was something they shouldn't take for granted and, as he'd said, it was nothing to mess with. Switching off the lantern, Heather left it on the dresser and made her way across the room by memory. She drew the covers back slowly, trying to keep from disturbing her sleeping husband. Then, with care, she lay down on her side, her back to Jake, before easing her way into the middle of the bed, closer to him.

"No, sleep this way," Jake mumbled, somehow finding and kissing the shell of her ear in the dark.

Heather knew what he was asking. Although their longtime habit was to sleep spooned together, in the last few weeks they had altered this practice as they'd found themselves spending so much time in bed, whispering away the hours while they cuddled together for warmth, their baby nestled between them. "Jake, you're supposed to be sleeping," Heather complained even as she forced herself to sit up and shift around so that when she lay back down she was facing him. "Better?"

"Good," he sighed in agreement, moving toward her until they were pressed together, Jake wrapping himself around both Heather and their baby. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "We're good, right?" he asked, their gazes, somehow, locking in the dark. "After this morning?"

"You got your second wind, didn't you?" she groaned.

"Maybe," he yawned, "Not really. I just – I know you said we're fine," Jake told her, stroking her cheek with his thumb.  "And, I think we're fine –" 

"Jake, this morning was like a million years ago," Heather claimed.  Under the covers she moved her hand so that it lay on his chest, her fingers grasping the soft fabric of his t-shirt. "And, we're good – we're great. You don't hafta keep asking." She paused, frowning and although at most a few inches separated them, she didn't think he could see that in the dark. "Seriously, if I could take this morning back, I would…. I kinda overreacted," she confessed, her voice squeaking softly. "I mean, I walked in on you talking to this cute, friendly, not  pregnant woman who's calling you a 'brooding bad boy', and I don't know, it just made me feel like … like a fat, pregnant, uninteresting –"

"Hey, hey, stop," Jake interrupted, covering her mouth with his own. "You're pregnant, yeah, but you're not fat.  Honestly, if you put on ten more pounds tomorrow," he murmured against her lips as they exchanged another kiss, "I'd be relieved, babe."  He pulled slightly away then, but continued to caress her cheek.  "And there's no way in hell that you're uninteresting," he contradicted.  "You're the most interesting person I know, and I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm married to you," Jake said, chuckling softly.  "Besides, you know what?" he asked, stifling a yawn, "I didn't even know she was a girl when I first saw her." 

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, not quite able to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"Heather, I really didn't," Jake insisted, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger.  "She was standin' right in front of me, in her helmet and BDUs and I just thought she was some scrawny teenager who'd probably just gone through basic before everything happened, and had never managed to really buff up," he explained. "I didn't know she was female until I heard her talk."

"Oh," she muttered.

"Oh?" he repeated.

"Well, that kinda makes things worse, Jake..." Heather declared after a long pause.  "Now, it's not just that I overreacted, now it turns out I was being irrational and suspicious and jealous.  And, I'm not jealous," she argued, pressing her face against his shoulder for a moment.  "I mean, obviously I'm more than capable of being jealous," she added, chuckling uneasily as she lifted her head, "But I trust you, Jake. I have to trust you, because if I didn't, I'd have made us both crazy long ago," Heather sighed.  "I mean, in your job... well, I've no doubt that you run into women who'd be more than happy to sleep with-"

"Yeah," he interrupted, "But I don't wanna sleep with them.  I haven't.  I've never cheated on you, Heather," Jake assured, leaning toward her so he could kiss her.  "Never wanted to," he whispered huskily, "Okay?"

"Okay," Heather agreed, expelling a warm breath that he could feel on his lips, mere centimeters from her own.  "I think… I think I always assumed that," she admitted slowly.  "I mean, I never thought you would or had….  But it's still really good to hear, so thank you."  She chuckled then, a slightly nervous sound that didn't make any sense to Jake until she added, "I haven't either.  Just so – so you know."

"I know," he confirmed with another kiss.  "But it's still really good to hear."

"And, I still don't know why I lost it this morning," she confessed.  "I could blame hormones, I guess, but that seems like such a cop out."

"We can blame hormones," Jake returned quietly.  He yawned again, and Heather thought maybe he'd be willing to go to sleep now.  "Works for me."

"I'm still sorry about this morning," Heather apologized, "And I'm really, really grateful that you're here, that you survived the – the –"

"Attack," he supplied, running his fingers through her hair.  "And, me too."
 
She kissed him.  "I love you, Jake.  And I trust you.  And as far as I'm concerned, we are absolutely, one hundred percent great.  So, unless for some reason you don't agree, will you, please, just go to sleep?"

"Yeah," Jake breathed, "I – we're great.  But I have to tell you one more thing, okay?"

"Jake!" Heather protested, starting to laugh hard enough to shake the bed.  "Oh my God," she gasped out, still giggling.

"What?" he inquired almost grumpily.  "Now you laugh?  Why?"

"I'm just picturing myself in three or four years, arguing with your child who won't go to bed," she informed him, stroking his arm.  "'One more drink of water, Mommy,' 'One more story, Mommy,' 'I have to tell you something, Mommy….'"

"If I'm in charge of bedtime stories, isn't that gonna be my problem?" Jake countered.

"You know, you're right," Heather agreed rather cheerfully, "That is gonna be your problem.  And don’t you think I won't enjoy seein' how that goes," she chuckled.  "So," she sighed a beat later, "What is the one more thing you hafta tell me?"

He shifted under the covers, bringing both of his hands to rest on her middle, splayed across the mound that protected their growing child.  "You said – you said you were feelin' 'pretty darn pregnant' today," Jake reminded, clearing his throat, "And I just thought – thought you should know that when I look at you… when I see you, carrying our – our baby…. Well, I'm just proud."

"Thank you," she murmured, a catch in her voice. 

"I don't know if you should be thanking me," Jake chuckled self-consciously. "I mean a big part of it is that I'm proud of myself," he admitted. "Like chest puffed out, strut around, just damn proud. You wanted a kid," he declared, massaging her belly, "I did my husbandly duty, and now we're havin' one.  But it's more than that," he insisted, fiddling with a button on her pajamas.  He inserted two fingers through the gap he'd created in her top, tapping them lightly against her belly button.  "It's hard to explain...."
 
"You don't have to, Jake," Heather assured.  "And you can be proud.  I walk around feeling rather proud of this myself sometimes," she admitted, trapping his hand against her abdomen. "Though some days I just feel pregnant and wish B.G. would hurry up some."  She emitted a long sigh, playing with his fingers.  "And you wanted a kid - a child - too," Heather argued. "I mean, maybe not this exact timing, this quick," she acknowledged, and Jake could hear the frown in her tone. "'Cause I know you weren't exactly thrilled when I brought it up."

"Babe, I was a complete jackass when you brought it up," he acknowledged tightly. "There's a lotta things you could call me for how I reacted, and I deserve every one of 'em," he grumbled. "I'm – I'm sorry for that, and I don't have a good excuse," Jake admitted, the pressure of his fingers against her abdomen emphasizing his point. He wasn't hurting her or their baby, but he was clearly tense. "I'd – I'd gotten too much into my own head, workin' the Ravenwood assignment, and I'm sorry I didn't react the way I should've."

Heather squeezed his fingers. "I know," she whispered. They had had this conversation a couple of times, by cell phone and video chat, but she'd long considered the issue resolved – she was six months pregnant after all. "And at the time it… stung," she confessed. "But you came around," she reminded, and when she kissed him, he could tell she was smiling. "Heck, by Hawaii, you were completely on board.  When the girl at the rental car place asked what we were planning to do in Hawaii, you said 'Get her pregnant'," Heather snorted.

"Well, that was the plan," he confirmed, "Only suddenly you were all 'just let nature take its course'," Jake complained.  "You confused the hell outta me, babe."

"Because I didn't want to be disappointed," she proclaimed.  "I didn't want us to be disappointed, and I didn't want the pressure.  That pressure – trying to get pregnant and then worrying about why they couldn't – that did April and Eric in."

"Babe, we're not them."  The response was reflexive at this point, a product of this uncomfortable conversation that they'd had a hundred times already.  Not so much in the last few weeks, he acknowledged to himself, when all they'd had time to worry about was survival.  But now that the topic had reared its ugly head once again, Jake found that he was back to gritting his teeth and silently cursing his brother for all the havoc he'd wreaked.

"I know, Jake," Heather returned quickly, "And I wasn't trying to re-open that discussion, trust me.  But trying to get pregnant is stressful when nothing's happening, and they're my closest examples, that's all," she sighed, pulling her hand away.  "And it's silly to say this now, because I am pregnant, but Jake if I hadn't gotten pregnant, all it would've meant is that the timing wasn't right.  Basic biology," she insisted.  "It wouldn't have meant that we didn't try, or that it wouldn't have happened the next time.  I just – I just didn't want to make a big deal about it, that's all."

Jake found her hand again, clenched into a fist against her hip, and covered it with his own.  "First, I think our timing's perfect," he told her, coaxing her into letting him lace their fingers together.  "It's the timing of everything else that's happened since that sucks.  But I'm glad we made our kid in Hawaii, 'cause we sure did try," he reminded.  Heather could hear the satisfied smirk in his tone, and couldn't help but chuckle along with him.  "We tried again and again," Jake teased, his voice rasping, "And again."

"Yeah, we did," she returned, giggling quietly.  She pulled her hand out of his, resting it against his chest and rubbing gentle circles over his heart.  "How many times?"

Even with the layers of clothing between them, Jake reveled in her touch, allowing a contented sigh.  "What?" he yawned.

"How many times did we try?" she clarified, still chuckling.  "And, don't tell me you weren't counting," Heather ordered.  "I know you, and that's exactly the sort of thing you would bother to count."

"I wasn't counting," Jake claimed, his outraged tone clearly affected.  A second later he added, "After, you know, the first coupl'a days, first ten, fifteen times."

Her laugh was louder this time, a sound that was happy and flirtatious and – to Jake's ear – sexy as hell.  "Well that does sound kinda low to me," Heather informed him.  "I mean, we were there sixteen days, and twice a day would be thirty two," she reminded, kissing his jaw.  "And twice a day's underestimating things, I think."

"'Specially when you consider the two days we never left the condo," Jake suggested, his voice a low rumble.  "That ups our number some, right?"

"Yeah," she agreed, pressing her lips to his neck.  "And, really it was four days if you count the other two days when we barely made it out to the beach," Heather countered with a husky whisper.   "And that was only for like an hour, two tops.  Three times a day would be forty eight," she calculated, "So I think we should just say fifty."

"Fifty's good," Jake concurred, chuckling.  "Nice, round number," he added, running his hand along the nice, rounded curve of her pregnant belly.  "Swear to God, babe, you're the only person in the world who could ever make basic arithmetic sexy," he teased.  "That's totally a word problem for Mrs. Green's adults only collection.  'If Heather and Jake go to Hawaii for sixteen days and they make –'"

"Jake!" she protested, covering his mouth with her hand.  "That's got school board inquiry written all over it, no matter who I'm related to!" 

"Well, I did say the adult collection," he defended, nipping at her finger so that, giggling, she pulled her hand away.  "I'm not sayin' you should put it up on the chalkboard at school."

In the next second, Heather felt Jake's hand brush over her nose – barely missing her eye – before settling on her cheek.  "Ow," she complained, "Why are you trying to poke my eye out?"

"Just checkin' to see if you're blushing," he informed her, caressing her cheek.  "I always figure I've gone too far if you turn too red."

"You didn't go too far, Jake, but you are still recovering from hypothermia," Heather reminded, "So my face and every other part of me is gonna feel hot to you."

"Yeah, you're pretty hot," Jake returned.  He waited a moment before adding, his voice pitched low, "So, fifty times…."

"That is what the math tells us," she agreed with a chuckle.

"Can't argue with the math.  It'd be weird if you weren't pregnant," he decided.  "Given all that… math we did."

"It was bound to happen, huh?" she laughed.  "Well, if you give the man a mission…."

"I just wanna be of service," he returned.  "Aim to please."

Heather giggled at that.  "Well, we both know you're a pretty good shot," she told him, pressing her hand down over his on her abdomen to emphasize her point. 

"I like that one," Jake acknowledged appreciatively. 

Their gazes locked in the darkness, and he knew she was smiling – hell, he was too – even before she spoke.  "You're a stud, Jake," Heather sighed happily, "You're my stud."

"Always, babe," he murmured.  "But, what I wanna know is, how come I could never get you to talk to me like this on the phone," Jake groused, leaning in for a kiss.  "All those times I was stuck in some godforsaken hotel room," he breathed against her mouth, "Thousands of miles away.  I could'a gone for some word play," he teased.

"Yeah, well, you were always on some government issued phone," she whispered in return.  "And I didn't know who else might be listening," Heather argued.  "I'll say these things to you, but I'm not sayin' them for an audience."

"They were supposed to tell me when and which phones they monitored," Jake informed her, playing with her hair.  "I never called you from one of those.  Still, I can't really argue with the instinct," he conceded, yawning.

They both fell silent then, Heather once again hoping that Jake would give in to his exhaustion and finally go to sleep.  On this night though, her hands had a mind of their own, and it wasn't until Jake murmured, "What's your plan, babe?" that she even realized she'd managed to snake her hand underneath both of the shirts he was wearing and that she was drawing lazy circles around his navel with her index finger.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," she giggled nervously, trying to withdraw her hand, but he was too quick for her, trapping it against his stomach with his own hand.  "Jake –"

"I didn't say stop," he reminded, and she could hear the smile – the leer – in his voice.  "Just asked what you were thinkin'."

"I wasn't thinking," Heather admitted, letting out a deep sigh.  "Or, I was, but about something else.  I was thinking about our first married night in Buffalo," she confessed a beat later.  He lifted his hand enough off hers that she was able to return to her ministrations, the pad of her finger skimming gently over his skin.  "I'm wearing those pajamas," she confided, allowing a sultry chuckle.

"The Buffalo Christmas pajamas," Jake identified.  "I've always liked those pajamas…" he murmured, raising his hand to cup her cheek.  "On you."

Heather's laugh was full-throated.  "All that lingerie from my bridal showers, and all I really need is a pair of flannel pjs."

"Nah, need all of it," he assured, leaning close so he could kiss her.  "I love those things too."

"Okay," she agreed, smiling, as she returned his kiss.  "Can you go to sleep now?" Heather asked, letting her hand still, but leaving it in place on his stomach.

"Yeah," he answered, and she could feel him nodding.  "Long as you're stayin' with me," he yawned. 

"Always, Jake," she promised, kissing him again.  "Always."


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

To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 15!

As Different Circumstances, Part 15 will be a new story on this site, please check your "Favorites" settings and make sure that you either have me marked as a Favorite Author or Different Circumstances marked as a Favorite Series in order to ensure you receive an email when I post the next part.



The Kansas City Royals are a major league baseball franchise that plays in Kansas City, Missouri.  This is the team that the denizens of Jericho most likely grew up cheering for. 

The dishes served at Heather's and Jake's engagement party are all ones that I like.  My German is slightly better than the Lisinski siblings, but not much.

Oprah Winfrey used to host a daily television talk show.  I can't say that I ever saw an episode where she discussed fertility issues and men's underwear, but the odds are good that she did.