Different Circumstances: Part 3B of ? by Marzee Doats
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, September 21, twenty-one hours after the bombs
"Okay," Jake pronounced, tracing his finger across the map spread out on the pool table he'd commandeered for his mission briefing. "Abrams, you and Crossfield are taking the northern route, up through Nebraska to the state police barracks in Broken Bow."
"I can go east to Topeka," Gray Anderson suggested, "And connect with the state government." He looked across the table at Ridley Cooper, a mine employee he'd strong-armed into helping out after Jake had announced his plan to the patrons at Bailey's Tavern. "Ridley can head west to Denver, or what's left of it," he offered.
Jake looked at the other man. He didn't know him; most of the management at the salt mine were brought in from outside Jericho, at Gray's insistence. Only the line employees were Jericho natives. "You'll probably run into FEMA, and a ring of EMS people before you even get within sight of the city," he explained, watching Ridley. "See what they know."
"And what about you?" Gray demanded.
"He's going to Wichita with me," Emily Sullivan supplied, joining the group around the pool table.
Jake exhaled deeply, nodding. "That's right," he agreed with a sideways glance at his former flame. "Emily and I are taking the southern route to Wichita."
Gray looked amused. "What's your wife think of that?" he asked, a little too interested.
Jake ignored him. The one thing that didn't appear to be bothering Heather at the moment was his admission that Emily Sullivan wanted to accompany him to Wichita. He supposed there was a limit to exactly how mad you could be at another person, and Heather had already hit that before he'd told her about Emily. He looked around the bar, trying to find his wife, but wherever she was, it wasn't in his line of sight.
He had accompanied Heather and his mother to the school to retrieve Heather's car, and then driven back with her to the ranch. Aside from an initial squabble over who would drive, which he'd won because she was tired and still getting used to her cast, they hadn't spoken the entire trip home, not until he'd turned the Trailblazer onto the Green Ranch Road.
"When are you leaving?" she had asked, staring out the window rather than looking at him.
"It depends on how long it takes to round up volunteers," Jake had admitted. "I'm gonna go back to town in a little bit. If I can get it organized, then this evening," he'd told her. "Otherwise, tomorrow sometime."
She had turned toward him then, her eyes bright. "I want to go -"
Jake, who'd already been driving slowly on the rutted farm road, had stopped the car. "Heather," he'd protested.
"Not on your road trip, Jake," she had grumbled, shaking her head, looking away again. "Just back to town with you," she'd told him, sniffling. "Until you leave."
"Okay." That one word had stuck in his throat, and he hadn't been able to say anything else, or even turn the car back on. It was, he'd realized, the closest thing to absolution he was likely to get, and certainly more than he deserved. "Stanley saw a line of tanks out on I-70 this morning, when he was out in the storm," Jake had started, when he'd finally felt like he could talk again. He felt compelled to explain himself, to try and win her support. "Dad thinks it was the National Guard Unit out of Goodland."
"No," Heather had interrupted, shaking her head. "That unit deployed to Iraq in April," she'd told him, meeting his eye once more. "One of my kid's last year," she'd clarified, chewing her lip, "Her dad was in that unit. Divorced parents, so she only saw him on weekends, if that, but she was still a completely different child once he was gone."
Jake had sighed uneasily, more than a little discomfited by this news. "The plan is to go to Goodland, then on to Wichita." He'd waited a moment, not wanting to give her another reason to be upset, but also not wanting to give her another reason to think he was withholding information. "Emily wants to come along," he'd admitted. "Roger was supposed to fly into Wichita last night, and she wants to look for him. She's threatening to go on her own if I don't take her along, so I said she could come."
Heather had snorted at that, rubbing her eye tiredly with the heel of her hand. "I'm not jealous of Emily Sullivan, Jake," she'd said, shaking her head. "I know that half the people in Jericho thinks I should be, and that I'm crazy, 'cause I'm not." She sighed. "But I'm really not."
"You have no reason to be," he had assured her quietly, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture he always fell back on when he was unsure of his reception. "No reason whatsoever."
"I know," Heather had smiled wanly. She'd caught his hand, as it had brushed the side of her face, cradling it in both her own. "You're not fickle," she'd told him, "And, I'm the one you married."
"Yes, you are," he'd murmured in return. They had stared at one another for a few more seconds, and then Jake had reluctantly pulled his hand from hers. He'd restarted the car, and they had continued on to the house.
The truce they had come to in the car had lasted long enough for Heather to take a shower, while Jake settled for sponging off at the sink. They'd both changed clothes, Jake had packed a bag, and they had been on their way back to Jericho in just under an hour, still too wary of one another to risk talking about any subject except the most mundane, but otherwise in accord. For Jake, for the moment, it was good enough.
"All right," Gray drawled, realizing finally that he wasn't going to get the answer he was fishing for, "Let's try to radio back as much information as possible along the way."
"That's the plan," Jake agreed, shooting Gray an appraising look. "Hit the major cities in each direction - north, south, east and west."
"The four horsemen of the apocalypse," Gray joked sourly, peering over the map again.
Jake's stomach turned over at the thought. "Let's hope not," he pronounced.
The group had broken up then, each having something he needed to do before proceeding. Jake looked around for Heather, drawing near the bar, where his brother was arguing with Mary Bailey. "Where's Heather?" he asked.
Mary looked relieved to have an excuse to ignore Eric, and she answered Jake before he could say anything else. "Restroom," she told him. "She should be out in a -"
A picture suddenly blipped across the TV hanging over the bar, bringing nearly all conversation to an instantaneous halt. The video was fuzzy and intermittent, the audio incomprehensible, and it took Jake a moment to recognize any of what he was seeing and hearing. Heather appeared at his side then, and she tucked herself under his arm, clutching his hand while they all stared at the screen, dumbstruck. Newscasters in suits flashed across the monitor, and then a map of the United States, animated with bomb cartoons.
The picture faded out into static. "We're losing the feed," Eric yelled. "Bring it back!"
Mary grabbed the radio she'd been using to direct the volunteers who were on the roof, trying to adjust the satellite dish. "Go back!" she shouted. "We had something."
Jake, holding his breath, watched to see if the transmission would come back, but after nearly a minute, with Eric yelling at Mary, and Mary yelling at the guys on the roof, still all they had was static.
"Oh, God," he heard Heather whisper, just under his ear. "New York."
He looked down at her, taking in her suddenly pale complexion, her wide eyes. "What?" Jake demanded.
"New York City had a bomb on the map," Heather told him, her voice shaky. "Michigan - Detroit, too, I think. That's four - I think, four - hours from home," she closed her eyes, trying to remember what she'd seen. "The City's nearly seven from Buffalo," Heather continued, only managing a loud whisper. "But, New Haven, that's not even two hours from Manhattan. Mikey," she murmured, invoking her younger brother's name.
"Babe, we don't know anything yet," Jake reminded, grasping Heather by both shoulders. "And, two hours is good. We're three hours to Denver, and we're good," he reminded. "Two hours is good."
"It's nearly three hundred miles to Denver," Heather argued, her expression crumbling. "There's only a hundred, maybe, between New Haven and New York."
Jake led her to the nearest table forcing her into a chair. "It doesn't mean anything, not yet," he told Heather, squatting next to her. He looked around the crowded bar; everyone was reacting, and he recognized that the situation could very easily spiral out of control. "Heather! Look," he said, turning his full attention back on his wife. "Can you remember what you saw on the map?"
"Somewhere in Texas, Los Angeles," Heather answered, taking a gulping, shaky breath.
"Okay," Jake nodded. "That's good. And, it might not be true, okay? Remember, it might not be true," he said, squeezing her hand, "But, we still need to get down what the TV showed." Jake sighed, shaking his head. "If I give you a map, can you put down what you saw?"
She nodded, taking another deep breath, and Jake turned, jogging back to the pool table, where he grabbed the Continental U.S. road map he'd liberated from her car a half hour earlier. "Here," he said a few seconds later, handing it to her. "Mary," he called out, getting the other woman's attention. "We need a pen or something."
Mary came out from behind the bar, pulling writing implements out of her apron. "Here," she offered breathlessly. "Do you need help?"
"Yeah," Jake accepted for Heather, rubbing her shoulders. He glanced around again. The crowd was becoming more and more restless, people were arguing, starting to yell. He knew that someone needed to take control of the situation now. "Look, I need to -"
"Go," Heather interrupted. She looked up at him, trying to force a smile. "I'm okay, just go."
Jake turned around again, sprinting into the open space between the bar and the game room. "Everybody, calm down!" he ordered, looking over the agitated group. "We just need to stay calm, and work together," he told them.
Eric seemed to suddenly remember that he was deputy mayor, and he joined his brother in the center of the room. "Jake's right, we need to do this calmly and systematically." Jake took that as his cue to back off for the moment, and he moved to the side, sitting down on a step. "First, was that Korean," Eric asked, looking around the bar. "Does anyone know?"
Jake looked up from his seat. "Think it was Chinese," he answered.
"Mandarin," supplied a man, sitting at the bar. Jake glanced at him, deciding quickly that he'd never seen him before today.
The crowd started buzzing at the stranger's proclamation, and Jake groaned, frustrated, knowing they were getting off track. "Question is," he called out, "Were they just reporting it, or are they behind it?"
Eric looked down at his brother. "Did Stanley say if there were any markings on the side of the tank?" he demanded, as Jake pulled himself up from his spot on the floor and limped to the pool table. "Maybe we're being invaded."
Jake studied his map of the Plains States for a moment, not bothering to answer his brother's question; not yet ready to tell him what Heather had said about the Goodland National Guard Unit.
"Abram and Crossfield are out," Gray Anderson announced, interrupting Jake's reverie. "They won't drive into a war zone."
"Yeah, well, I don't blame them," Eric interjected, joining Gray and Jake at the pool table. "Look, why don't we put this plan on hold right now," he suggested, shrugging. "We saw one image, we'll probably see another one."
"Going out is more important than ever, all right?" Jake yelled, turning to face his brother. He stopped, taking a quick breath. Losing control was not going to help the case he was trying to make. "If this country is at war, we need to know it," he argued, trying to calm himself. Jake shook his head, turning back to the map. "We're moving forward with this, Eric."
Jake and Gray were conferring about who else might be willing to go out on the scouting mission in place of Abram and Crossfield when the stranger from the bar joined their discussion. "Understand you lost some of your men?" the stranger asked quietly, balancing his drink on the edge of the pool table.
"Yeah," Jake confirmed distractedly, glancing sideways at the stranger.
"If you need a volunteer, I'm available."
Jake looked at the stranger again. "Thanks, Mr.?"
"Hawkins," the other man introduced himself, holding out his hand.
"Mr. Hawkins," Jake greeted, shaking his hand. "Do you have a family?"
"Two kids," Hawkins allowed.
Jake clapped him on the shoulder. "I think it's best if we stick to people that don't have families," he explained.
"You have a family, don't you?" Hawkins asked, looking over at the table where Heather and Mary were pouring over the map, checking their own memories of the broadcast, and getting input from others. "She's your wife?"
"Yes," Jake conceded, exhaling. The nagging feeling of guilt that he'd managed to keep at bay overwhelmed him for a moment before Jake could manage to shake it off. "It's different, though," he argued, trying to convince himself as much as Hawkins. "We don't have kids," he said, "Besides, I'm gone a lot anyway."
"Okay, then," Hawkins shrugged, starting to move away. "Figured I'd offer."
"Yeah, thanks," Jake responded, not really paying attention. He'd caught sight of Emily Sullivan, looking rather ill and headed for the exit. She bumped into one person, and then another, not bothering to apologize to either. He looked over at Heather, who seemed fine for the moment, and then thinking ruefully that he would probably come to regret his decision, went after Emily.
* * * * *
Fuming, Heather sat at the bar, staring straight ahead, unwilling to give Gray Anderson the satisfaction of seeing her turn around to watch him go. Hearing the front door open and close, she slumped on her seat, expelling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Slowly, she moved off the barstool, scrubbing at her left arm where he'd touched her. Heather hated Gray Anderson at that moment, hated him for his smarminess, for claiming Scott Rennie as his friend, for the back-handed threat she was sure he'd made.
She returned to the table with her map, and looked it over, trying to distract herself, but it didn't work. The map just reminded her that she didn't know anything about her family's fate, and that Jake would be leaving, going out into who knew what danger. Heather dropped the pencil she'd picked up, and leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. It was all too much. Even finally figuring out what it was that bothered her about Scott Rennie's death, that Shep and Gray should have called for help, for a nurse or a doctor, didn't make her feel any better. Rather, she felt worse, remembering just how overwrought Shep had looked.
Jake slipped into the seat across from Heather, startling her. She hadn't seen him come back into Bailey's after going after Emily. "Sorry," he apologized, noting her reaction. "You okay?" Jake asked when she didn't respond.
Heather nodded, affecting a resolute expression. "I'm fine," she declared, straightening in her seat. "I'm tired, and I'm worried, and I'm mad," she admitted, glaring softly at him, "But I'm fine. What's up with Emily?"
"The good news is, Emily is no longer going with me," Jake offered, propping himself over the table on both elbows, watching her closely. "The bad news is that she's sure Roger's dead. She thinks she saw Wichita on the broadcast."
"It's not," Heather contradicted, checking the map. "Look," she insisted, pointing at all of southeast Kansas. "I didn't see it, and nobody else did either."
"Yeah, well, she's convinced herself of it," Jake muttered. "She also said that I'm the one who should be dead, not him." He sighed. "It's always been a zero sum game with Emily."
Heather chuckled humorlessly. "It's not exactly a surprise that Emily Sullivan is self-centered and bitchy," she reminded, rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily. "I didn't tell you this, but last month she asked me if we were getting divorced."
Jake stared, open-mouthed, at Heather. "Wow," was all he could manage when he finally did speak.
"That's Emily for you," Heather shrugged. "She'd probably had a fight with Roger that morning, and was trying to make herself feel better by making me feel bad. I think I said something like, 'Huh, all that time, half-naked in Hawaii with Jake, divorce just didn't come up.'"
Jake laughed out loud. It was so unlike Heather to say something like that, especially without turning crimson. Anything that could possibly be construed as even the mildest innuendo usually left her tongue-tied. He was a little bit astounded. "How'd she take that?" he asked, grinning.
"Who knows?" Heather giggled, a touch of red finally staining her cheeks. "I'm sure she didn't know before that moment that we'd met up for vacation. She probably never even noticed that I was out of town for the entire month of July," she added, rolling her eyes. "And, I didn't stick around to find out what she thought, honestly. She'd cornered me coming out of the restroom at the superintendent's luncheon. We were sitting at different tables. That's all we said to each other there, and I actually haven't talked to her since. No reason to."
"Yeah," Jake nodded, still smiling absently. "No reason. So," he continued, "Are we getting divorced?"
Heather let out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, mister, I'm not that mad at you," she told him. "Jake?" Heather inquired a few seconds later, her tone turning serious. "How soon do you have to leave?"
"Pretty soon," he admitted. "Gray's organizing supplies over at town hall with Eric and Dad. Once that's taken care of, we'll all be taking off."
Heather stood up from the table, holding her free hand out to him. Jake scrambled to his feet, giving her his hand. "Come with me," she instructed.
Silently, Jake followed Heather into the back of the bar, and into the women's restroom. Heather let go of his hand in order to lock the door, then turned to face him. Jake stood, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised questioningly, watching her. "We haven't made out in the ladies room at Bailey's since we first got married," he teased.
"And, we're not going to now," Heather retorted, obviously fighting a smile. "I'm in a cast, and I'm still a little bit mad at you, Jake Green," she complained.
"Right," he acknowledged. "So, are you taking me hostage?"
"No," she chuckled. "I'm - Look, I get why you're doing this, Jake, I really do. I get why it's important, maybe vital," Heather told him, frowning. She shoved her hands in her pockets, and looked down, concentrating her attention on her cast and brace. "And, I feel selfish for minding, I feel selfish because you're not in possession of all the facts, I just feel generally selfish, so in the interest of full disclosure -"
"Heather," he interrupted gently. He moved a step closer, and cupping her chin with his hand, made her look up at him. "What is it?"
Licking her lips, Heather faced him, her expression guarded. "I'm pregnant."
His hand dropped from her face. "Pregnant," he repeated, shock tingeing his tone.
"Kind of a surprise, huh?" Heather laughed nervously, but her eyes were suddenly animated. "I know we only said that we'd let nature take it's course, and it hasn't been that long, especially since we've hardly seen one another this year, let alone -"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jake demanded, hurt sounding in his voice. "Hawaii was nearly three months ago. You must've known -"
"No!" Heather protested, her eyes widening with dismay. "No, Jake, I really didn't. Monday. I've only known since Monday," she told him. She started to reach for his hand, but then pulled back, biting her lip, obviously unsure. "Jake, oh God," Heather sighed. "I didn't keep this from you, I swear."
They stared at one another for a long, silent moment, each trying to read the other. Heather felt miserable. She had long imagined the moment when she would tell Jake he was going to be a father, way before she had started hinting that she wanted to start their family, even before they were married. But, she thought ruefully, in all her daydreaming she'd never put them in the bathroom at Bailey's with Jake hurt by her news and about to leave town. On top of the rest of the nightmare they were already suddenly living in, she thought, this was the worst possible scenario.
"I'm just a dork," she told him quietly, trying not to cry. "I only went off the pill in June," Heather reminded him, frowning, "And, I thought it took time to wear off, which apparently it doesn't." She sighed, looking away for a second, down at her feet again. "It's not like I've been sick," she said, meeting his gaze once more. "Just really tired," Heather admitted, a frustrated chuckle escaping her. "Plus, I've had to pee a lot, and, I guess I'm a little more emotional than's normal, so maybe I should have realized."
"Heather," Jake stepped toward her again, reaching for her hand. She recognized the relief in his expression, and his intent to pull her into his arms. She stopped him.
"Wait, Jake, please," she requested. "I just want to explain," Heather told him, and Jake nodded, squeezing her fingers. "I wasn't sick," she repeated, "And, I thought I was just tired from the start of the new school year, and everything. It never occurred to me," she shrugged. "But then, Sunday night at your parents, your Mom made pork chops. They've never been my favorite," Heather reminded, grimacing, "But suddenly, that smell. It was awful. I barely made it to the bathroom in time."
"April followed me," Heather continued, a soft smile touching her lips. Jake took a half step closer, still not embracing her, but leaving less than an inch between them. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body, the warmth of his breath on her cheek. "She started asking me all these questions, medical and otherwise," Heather explained, blushing. "We're both sitting on the floor of the downstairs bathroom at your parents, and April tells me that I'm pregnant. I really didn't believe her," she laughed softly. "I always figured when it happened that I'd instinctively know, but I didn't," Heather admitted. "She made me promise to come into the clinic after school on Monday, which I did, and she ran a blood test - made the lab tech stay late - and I'm pregnant."
"Oh, babe," he breathed, pulling her, finally, into a fierce hug. They clung to one another for a long moment, swaying back and forth, holding each other up. "A kid," he murmured, somehow managing to sound both awed and panicked. He kissed the top of her head. "Our kid."
"Baby," Heather giggled, pulling back so she could look up at him. "He or she will be a baby before they're a kid," she reminded. "Say 'baby'," she demanded. "I know that I do most of the talking on this particular subject," Heather allowed, "But you never say 'baby', you always say 'kid'."
Jake actually looked flustered by her request, and biting his lip, asked, "Give me a day or two on that one. I need to work my way up to that."
"Jake!" Heather complained, exasperated. "You call me 'babe' all the time. Change one letter. Add a syllable. That's all it takes," she told him, socking him lightly on the shoulder.
"Trust me, there's a big difference," he said, shaking his head. Heather grumbled in response, and he leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I'm still going to go, Heather," Jake told her a moment later, meeting her gaze. "I have to. This doesn't change that. It probably makes it more important."
"I know," she sighed. "I wasn't trying to stop you," Heather assured him, smiling wanly. "I just didn't want you to leave without knowing."
Jake nodded. "Thank you." He pressed his mouth to hers then, kissing her deeply, not stopping even when she dropped her crutch, which hit him in the thigh as it clattered to the ground. When they pulled apart, finally, reluctantly, they were both breathing hard. Jake retrieved Heather's crutch, and handing it to her, smiled sweetly, causing her heart to beat just a little faster. "I love you, babe," he told her, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger before pushing it behind her ear. "And our kid."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Saturday, October 13, five years before the bombs
Bungee had been separated from the rest of his clan, and Bonnie hadn't protested his isolation in the portable cage too much, giving in completely when Heather reminded her that she'd be in trouble if the school was suddenly overrun by rabbits. Stanley had shown Heather the original rabbit hutch, the one he'd built the year before when Bonnie had come home from her 4-H meeting with the initial pair of rabbits. It was the right size for two rabbits, and had even worked well, for awhile, after the first litter was born. It would be downright spacious for Bungee.
"This'll work great," Heather declared, mentally measuring it. "I'll just have to move the group work table in the back over a foot or two, and there'll be plenty of room. I'll just go by the hardware store, and find something to go under it."
"Burlap," Stanley recommended. Turning around he yelled at Jake. "You doing anything Monday morning?"
Jake had been getting the full history of each rabbit from Bonnie, at least as far as she knew. While she'd been in the rabbit raising program, Bonnie had followed protocol, keeping the bucks and does separated, and diligently documenting each animal's genealogy. Now she was letting them mix, with interesting results. Jake had been following intently, even suggesting name changes for some of the rabbits that made Bonnie laugh, and which she always agreed to.
He walked over to where Stanley and Heather were looking over the hutch. "Monday?" he repeated.
"I'm going to take the rabbit hutch and Bungee to the school on Monday morning," Stanley explained. "I could use some help getting it on the truck, and then into Heather's classroom."
Jake glanced at Heather, who smiled at him, and knew immediately there was no way he would refuse. After all, wasn't he looking for any excuse to run into her as it was already? "Sure," he agreed. "Though, what's the statute of limitations on detention? I'm pretty sure I still owe a few at the Elementary," he joked.
"Mrs. Simpson, eighth grade," Stanley groaned knowingly. "When did she not have you in detention? I always thought she had a bit of a thing for you, Jake."
"Do not even go there," Jake ordered, shuddering. "I really wasn't as bad as Stanley would have you believe," he told Heather, who was trying valiantly not to laugh at the two of them.
"So, you're saying that you aren't the bad boy I had you pegged for?" Heather challenged, grinning openly at Jake. "Too bad."
"I'd think that as a teacher, you wouldn't like the bad boys," Jake teased her boldly.
Heather shook her head 'no'. "As a teacher, you always want a lot of good kids in your class. But it's the class clowns, the trouble-makers, the bad boys, that make it exciting," she claimed. "Always need one or two or them around to keep things interesting."
Stanley, who had been amused by their flirting at first, was growing slightly annoyed. He'd decided that he was all for a Jake/Heather match, but he didn't need a front row seat to the proceedings. "Oh, just give him a detention slip already, and be done with it," he complained at Heather, causing her to blush bright red.
"Okay," she said after taking a few seconds to compose herself, "Is there anything else you need from me here?"
Stanley, feeling guilty at the sight of Heather's obvious discomfort, not to mention the glare that Jake had fixed on him, was left with no choice but to apologize. "That was really obnoxious of me," he told her. "I'm sorry. Let me buy you lunch," he offered, prompting another dirty look from Jake. "By which, I mean that we've got peanut butter or ham at the house," Stanley clarified. "We've got three kinds of cheese to go with that ham," he added, "Only one of which comes with the slices individually wrapped in cellophane."
Heather giggled nervously, looking finally at Jake for his reaction. "Stay for lunch," he cajoled. "I'll make him behave," he assured her.
Bonnie, who had observed the entire conversation, and understood almost none of it, also asked Heather to stay for lunch. "Please stay, Heather. We made really good chocolate chip cookies."
"Everyone's always getting me with the baked good in this town," she complained genially. "Okay," Heather sighed, "I can stay for lunch."
Bonnie led the way back to the house, this time walking with her brother, who forced her along faster than she usually would have traveled, wanting to give his friends a few moments alone. Heather walked beside Jake, feeling his nearness acutely. She really didn't know what to say to him now, which saddened her. The night before the conversation had flowed between them effortlessly, and now everything was just awkward.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" Jake asked abruptly, stopping Heather by touching her hand lightly. "I mean, do you already have plans, or are you available, and of course, interested, in going to dinner? Tonight?" he added, watching, concerned, as the blood seemed to all drain out of her face.
"What?" Heather answered, completely inarticulate. "Tonight? Dinner?" she repeated, suddenly unable to speak in anything but questions.
Jake nodded. "Tonight. Dinner. With me. Yes," he explained, feeling himself becoming less than coherent as well. "I mean, I understand that it's really late notice, and you've probably got plans, but -
"'Are you asking me out?" Heather interrupted. "This would be a date, right? You're asking me out for date?" she concluded, surprise ringing in her tone.
"God, I hope so," Jake muttered, shaking his head. He was certain that he'd never had this much difficulty with anything he'd attempted in his life.
"Okay," Heather nodded slowly, gifting him with a bright smile that practically made him dizzy. "I would love to go out to dinner with you tonight, Jake," she answered shyly.
Jake exhaled deeply. "Okay, then," he nodded. "I'll pick you up at seven?"
"Sure," she agreed, emitting a nervous giggle. He joined her in that, and when he held out his hand to her, Heather accepted it.
They walked the rest of the way to the Richmond farmhouse, fingers loosely entwined, neither talking, but glancing at one another every few seconds, both unable to keep from smiling. When they reached the front door, Jake pushed it open without knocking, and then motioned for Heather to enter before him. He led her into the kitchen, where Stanley and Bonnie were already getting out sandwich fixings.
Stanley took one look at the two of them, and rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't comment. "So, I'm taking drink orders," he told them. "Which today means iced tea or bug juice," he added, shooting Jake a knowing look. "Whaddaya want, Heather?" he asked, pulling the two pitchers out of the refrigerator.
"Both."
"Both?" Stanley asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Heather nodded. "Iced tea, sweetened with red kool-aid? What could be better?"
"Ah-ha! A daring one, I see," Stanley declared, affecting a knowing expression. He poured her drink, and handed it to her. "Jake?" he prompted next.
"Gotta go with daring," he answered, grinning at Heather.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, September 21, twenty-two hours after the bombs
"Where's Emily?"
Jake started at the sound of his mother's voice, almost dropping the file box of supplies his brother had just issued to him. Eric, playing the role of deputy mayor to the hilt, had made him sign for them. His duffle bag, at least, was securely slung over his shoulder. Now, all Jake needed was to get his mind on the task at hand, and off of Heather, off of the bombshell she'd dropped, and off of the fact that she was, quite rightly, still mad at him but pretending not to be.
"She's not going," he muttered, stowing the duffle and box in the back seat of the SUV. He pulled the long range radio out of the box, but left everything else where it was. He'd go through it all later, when he stopped to rest, provided he could find somewhere secure to do so.
"Good," Gail declared emphatically, crossing her arms. In her next breath, though, she demanded, "You're not going alone, are you?"
Jake had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his mother. "You'd prefer I'd bring Heather along?" he asked, looking at her over the car door. He wouldn't have let her come, even if she'd wanted to, especially now, but Jake really didn't know who else in Jericho his mother thought would volunteer for this mission.
"Of course not," Gail answered. "But there has to be someone else -"
"Mom, there's not. People are scared. No one wants to do this. I have other things - other things I need to be doing, but we need information." He closed the rear door with a push, checking to make sure it had latched all the way, and then reached for the driver's door handle. He paused a moment, and then, sighing, let go of the door. Jake turned, leaning against the car, to face his mother. "Heather's pregnant," he said softly, watching for her reaction. "And, you don't seem to be surprised by that," he told her, chuckling somberly.
Gail shook her head. "I suspected, nothing more," she told him. "She got sick at Sunday dinner this week, but April insisted there was a bug going around. The 'It Aint Easy Bein' Green' club at work."
Jake laughed. "I have it on good authority that no such clandestine organization exists."
"Organized or not, I would have loved having a sister-in-law to vent with, back when I first married your father." Gail paused, frowning for a second. "Your grandmother and I really didn't make our peace until you boys were born, and that was a long eight years."
Jake nodded. He'd loved his grandmother, but he'd always been aware of the tension that existed between her and his mother.
"You're still going, aren't you," Gail sighed. "Even though -"
"This just makes it all that more important," Jake argued, yanking the car door open. "You really think I don't want to be here?" he asked. "Don't gimme that look."
Gail's expression was suddenly one of pure innocence. "What look?" she protested.
Jake slid into the driver's seat, shaking his head and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her. He rolled down the window, and then pulled the car door closed behind him. "You know what look. That look," he grumbled, glaring softly at his mother.
"Hey," Gail replied, leaning in the window. "After the seventy five hundred times I have watched you drive away, not knowing if you were coming home..." she trailed off, reaching into the cab to pull his hand into hers. She clutched it, arguing hoarsely, "I've earned the look."
"I'm coming back," he promised, squeezing her hand. "I'm going out there to do what I can to help keep my family safe, and then I'm coming back."
His mother's eyes filled with tears, and for the second time that day Jake felt lousy for inducing them, but he wasn't going to change his mind. She knew that. "Okay," she whispered, leaning through the window to kiss him goodbye.
When she pulled back, ready to let him go, Jake didn't start the car. "Mom, look after her for me, okay?" he requested, frowning. "She's mad at me, at least a little, but pretending now that she isn't. She'll want to go home to the ranch tonight," he predicted. "But don't let her, okay? Get her to stay with you and Dad at the house."
"You're taking her car," Gail observed. "That'll slow her down some."
Jake rolled his eyes. "That'll only slow Heather down for as long as it takes her to hotwire somebody else's car. Look after her, please, Mom," he repeated. He reached into the glove compartment, knowing he could count on Heather to always have a pad and pen handy. He found a blank page, scribbled out three lines and signed his name. "And, give her this," he added, tearing out the slip of paper and folding the note closed.
Gail accepted the proffered message. "Okay, I'll do what I can," she promised, leaning through the window to kiss him on the cheek one more time. "You come home," she ordered.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, September 21, twenty-six hours after the bombs
"Here you go," Jake murmured, placing a piece of chocolate cake, a peace offering of sorts, in front of Heather. He moved to the other side of the table, resuming his seat, waiting expectantly for her response.
"Is this what I think it is?" she asked, eyeing the cake with obvious anticipation.
"Mrs. Thom's world-famous chocolate chip bundt cake," Jake confirmed, grinning at her. "I snagged us the last two pieces, so I probably owe her a month's worth of lawn mowing, just like when I was a kid." They each took their first bites, both moaning softly in appreciation. "It's still worth it," Jake confirmed.
"Mrs. Thom so rocks!" Heather declared, savoring her second taste. She watched him for a moment across the table, smiling. "Hey," she said, laying her hand over his.
Jake had arrived back in Jericho about an hour before, only three hours after he'd left, and days before he'd intended on returning. A couple of planes had blocked the highway he had planned to travel on, and then the bridge he'd needed to cross had been hopelessly obstructed. He'd given up, deciding to cut his losses by pulling the flight data recorder out of one of the planes, in the hope that it would provide some of the information he'd originally intended to seek out.
Heather hadn't been around when he'd first reached town hall, and by the time she'd come into the sheriff's station where Jake was, he'd been surrounded by a crowd of anxious people, and they hadn't been afforded even a moment's privacy. After every bit of information had been wrung out of the recording, none of it terribly reassuring except for the fact that Emily Sullivan's fiancé might not be dead, Heather had appeared at his side, convincing him quietly to come outside to the party his mother had organized, and have some dinner.
At the party, they still hadn't had a minute to themselves and Heather had sat patiently across from him, eating a second roasted ear of corn, waiting while a steady stream of Jericho's inhabitants had come by, all eager to greet Jake after his long absence, all interested in getting his opinion regarding what exactly was going on out in the rest of the world. Jake was unfailingly polite to everyone who interrupted his dinner, trying to be both realistic and reassuring.
Now they were finally alone, or at least as alone as they were going to be within the crowd at the party.
"Hey," Jake returned with a sigh.
"You didn't fail out there, Jake," she told him, correctly interpreting his preoccupied expression. "You said we needed information, and you got it, even if you didn't get to Wichita, or even Goodland." Heather glanced across the crowd, pointing out Emily Sullivan, who was talking to a couple of her students. "She looks better. You really made her happy."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Of course, with Emily, happiness is a fleeting thing."
Heather nodded. "True," she agreed, absently taking another bite of cake. "It was bad?"
"Freaked me out a little," he admitted, frowning. "I've never flown anything as big as that 757," Jake told her, sighing softly. "But when I was nineteen? That's exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my life," he reminded, prompting a sympathetic look from Heather. "There weren't any people. Not at the planes, not along the road anywhere. It's pretty rural all through there, the farmhouses are mostly off the road, but still." He paused, shaking his head. "How does everyone disappear? There wasn't a car in sight, there wasn't anything. Did they know about the storm? Did they get out of it?"
Heather couldn't answer his questions, and she didn't pretend even to herself that she could. She tried another bite of the cake, but it stuck in her throat when she swallowed, and she ended up pushing the plate away, grimacing. "I probably shouldn't be eating this anyway," she said, clearing her throat.
"Why?" Jake asked, remembering his own piece, and taking another bite. "Who knows when we'll get the chance again," he told her.
"It's all chocolate, pretty much caffeine and sugar. Kind of a no-no for me these days," she reminded quietly.
Heather watched Jake, recognizing when understanding clouded his expression. "Right," he agreed. "But, look at it this way," he advised, "In the last twenty-four hours, you've survived a bus crash, radioactive rain, and being buried alive in a salt mine by your idiot husband. I think you can risk a little chocolate," Jake concluded, looking away.
The full import of Jake's words hit Heather like a sledgehammer. She could dismiss the affects of the bus crash and salt mine as inconsequential. Her leg was broken, and she'd be in a cast for three or four weeks, but she was still pregnant and that was all that had mattered to her. The radiation was another issue altogether. Sure, she had avoided visiting Stanley at the clinic, and even tonight she'd only waved at him, rather than exchanging their customary hug. But, Heather realized, she hadn't considered the full implications of her exposure, minimal though it was, to the radioactive fallout. While she might be fine, there was no way to know now the affects on their unborn child.
Jake was observing her carefully now, and she met his steady gaze with watery eyes. In a flash, he was up and around the table, straddling the bench on her right side. "Scootch," he ordered, helping her to adjust herself on the bench by swinging her good leg around so that she was also sitting sideways. He moved so that he was right behind her, his chest pressed to her back, his legs along either side of hers.
"Okay, Jake murmured in her ear, "We can't change what's happened, so that just means we need to be careful going forward."
Heather leaned her head back against his shoulder, asking, "This is the worst possible timing, isn't it?"
"I'm pretty sure there's no good time for an atomic blast," Jake answered, deliberately misunderstanding her. "Look," he continued a moment later, "You had to know I was going to freak out some whenever we had a kid, right? Now at least I can spend the next six, seven months worrying about you, your health, what's in the air, where food's coming from - things like that - instead of about what a lousy father I'll make."
Heather knew that he was trying to distract her from her troublesome thoughts, and she gratefully played along. "You're gonna be a great father, Jake," she contradicted. "I figured that out a long time ago. You'll drive me nuts, but you'll be a great dad."
"I'll drive you nuts?" he chuckled, hugging her around the middle and resting his chin on her shoulder. "How?"
"You're more laidback than me," Heather argued. "You'll let them -"
"Them?" he protested. "I need to work up to 'them'," Jake teased. "For now, it's just one, right?"
"As far as I know, yes," Heather answered, making a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "Twins run in your family, not mine," she reminded. "You're being ridiculous," Heather accused lightly, "Like not being able to say 'baby'. Your mom gave me your note," she told him, turning her head to look up at him. "You wrote it."
"Baby," he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear. "Baby," he repeated, nuzzling the side of her head. "See? I can say it. Happy?"
"Yes," she giggled, sighing contentedly as his hand found its way up under the edge of her blouse, coming to rest over her stomach. "Thank you."
"So, why is it that I'm gonna drive you nuts?"
Stanley and Bonnie walked by then, on their way back to Stanley's truck, delaying her answer. They exchanged 'good nights', and Stanley clucked over them, grinning and rolling his eyes. "Don't you two have a home to go to?" he grumbled.
"Jealous much, Stanley?" Heather teased, prompting Jake to make kissing noises at his friend.
"Sure, your husband's back in town, and suddenly you forget all about little old me," he complained dramatically, winking at Heather.
Jake straightened in his seat, glowering at Stanley for affect. "Okay, you can go away now," he directed.
"G'night, you two," Stanley repeated, waving at them absently and leading his sister away.
Jake began to massage his hand over her stomach, and Heather leaned back into him more, if that was possible, yawning happily. In the next instant, though, his index finger found its way into her belly button, and Heather retaliated by elbowing him in the ribs. "Ouch," Jake complained cheerfully.
"You're only getting what you deserve," Heather reminded, capturing his roving hand in her own. As he well knew, her belly button was extremely ticklish, and it didn't take much to get her rolling around, laughing hysterically. "You do not do that in public," she told him, elbowing him once more for good measure.
"Okay," he agreed, resting his head against hers. "But really, how will I drive you nuts?"
Heather yawned again. "Jake, your philosophy is that anything's fine as long as you're not harming yourself or anyone else, which is basically a good philosophy that I can agree with. Kids'll love it. But," she continued, "I'm still always going to be saying things like: 'do your homework,' 'wear a coat', 'eat your vegetables', 'brush your teeth'. That stuff's not going to matter so much to you."
She could feel him nod in agreement next to her head. "Probably so," he admitted. "That stuff usually takes care of itself," he argued. "If you're cold, you put on a coat, right? But, how about I promise to care about homework, okay?" Jake offered. "No fun until homework's done. See? I'm already starting to sound like my Dad."
"Good enough," she giggled.
They sat quietly together for a few minutes, observing the crowd, which was beginning to thin. April and Eric had both disappeared, but Jake's parents were still at another table, laughing and talking with their neighbors, the Thoms of the famous chocolate chip bundt cake. Reminded of their abandoned desserts, Jake reached for Heather's fork, cutting himself a bite, and drawing her protest. "That's mine," she told him.
"I thought you weren't going to eat it," he challenged, but at the same time he reached across the table to pull his own plate over. They both finished off their cake, with Jake trying to steal another bite from Heather, winning when she waved her fork at him in surrender.
He pulled her close again, murmuring in her ear, "Let's make a deal."
"I'll take door number two, Monty!" Heather declared, laughing softly.
"Nope," Jake contradicted. "Door number one, or nothing."
Heather allowed an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, door number one," she agreed.
"Okay, so we don't know what's going to happen, right?" he started. "We never have known, not really, but now, everything's different," Jake argued philosophically. "So now, I may seem a little overprotective, and I'm probably going to annoy you with that at times," he predicted, "But that's only because I love you, and I will do everything I can to keep you and our baby safe." He paused for a second, before finishing. "That's the deal, okay?"
"Deal," Heather agreed, nodding against his shoulder. She twisted around then, offering him her hand, and they shook on it.
"Babe, you look exhausted," he told her, rubbing his finger along the bridge of her nose. "You never did get a nap. We should go home."
"Ah, just what every woman wants to hear from her husband," Heather replied. "'Babe, you look like crap.' And," she added, "I did get a nap. After your mom gave me your note, she made me lay down for awhile in the upstairs break room at town hall."
Jake groaned. "First, I didn't say you looked like crap," he argued, lifting himself up from the bench. He offered her his hand, helping her up as well. "And, second, that couldn't have possibly been restful. The couch up there is awful. I swear it's the same one that Eric or I had to rest on if Mom was keeping one of us home from school on a day she needed to be at town hall. I hate that couch," he declared.
"What'd she do if you were both sick?" she asked, allowing him to lead her towards his parents table.
"One of us at each end, kicking each other all day," he explained, eliciting a giggle from Heather as she imagined the two little boys she knew from photo albums, feverish and in their pajamas, fighting it out all day on that narrow, lumpy couch.
They were standing in front of Jake's parents now, and he announced, "We're taking off."
"Before I fall completely asleep, and he has to carry me home, cast and all," Heather added, wrapping her arm around Jake's.
"You're welcome to stay at the house," Gail reminded them. "Bed's already made up."
"I'm looking forward to spending the night in my own bed, to be honest," Jake responded. "It's only been seven months."
"I'm holding a strategy meeting here at nine in the morning," Johnston said, gesturing at the now darkened town hall. "I'd appreciate it if you came, Son," he told Jake.
Jake nodded. "I'll be there," he promised.
"Come beforehand for breakfast," Gail invited. "Both of you. Pancakes at eight."
"Sounds good," Heather agreed, yawning, while Jake quietly bemoaned the early hour.
She yawned again, much more loudly this time, and Jake chuckled, glancing at her fondly. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon," he said, "Let's go home."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *