The Greens of Jericho

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

Different Circumstances: Part 15D of ? by Marzee Doats

Author's Note: So, here I am, posting the first chapter of Different Circumstances that I've managed to write in more than six years.  I have no idea if anyone is still checking for updates at this site, but just in case you are, I am posting this.  The last few years have been rough, but I feel like I can write again, and even if it is just for myself and my stalwart beta readers (Skyrose and TiggyRN) then I'm going to do it. 

That said, I don't know how much longer I will keep The Greens of Jericho site up and running, so if you really want to get new chapters of this story, please email me at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends(?). 

Warnings: The present day (that's funny, we're talking about 15 years ago now) is tragic at this point in the series, so the 5 years ago scenes are a little more light-hearted.  Also, this is the Different Circumstances universe, so Jake and Heather are married and expecting, and Jake and Eric are twins.

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

Monday January 22, four months after the bombs

Together, Heather and Gail maneuvered an ultrasound cart into room five.  "Does it work?" Jeff asked hopefully, abandoning his position next to Mimi at April's bedside. 

"It should," Heather answered, sighing softly.  Her mother-in-law had found five 'retired' ultrasound machines in the basement, four of which still had their manuals on their carts.  Heather had eyeballed the machines, lining them up in what she'd guesstimated was newest to oldest, and then she'd begun her tests.  The first device hadn't powered up.  But the second had.  "I ran the self-diagnostic, and it came back A-okay."

"Great, you guys are awesome," Jeff declared, flashing Gail a relieved smile as he handed his stethoscope off to her so he could assist Heather with moving the cart into place. 

"It was all Heather," Gail assured.

"Mom, you helped—"

But Gail was having none of it.  "All I did was plug it in when you told me to," she countered, fitting the stethoscope's earpieces into her ears so she could take over monitoring April's vitals.  "Sweetheart, you did the rest."

"So did you test it on yourself?" Jeff asked Heather as he engaged the foot break once the cart was positioned next to April's bed.

"I ran the self-diagnostic," Heather repeated, retrieving the manual from its holder on the side of the cart and showing it to him.  "There's a 'quick start' guide, and it said exactly what to do—"

"You're probably due for an ultrasound yourself, Heather, now that we've got a working machine," he reminded quietly, "That's all I'm sayin'."

She frowned thoughtfully.  "Oh.  Well, once April's in the clear and the turbine's working, I'll probably come asking for that, Dr. Maguire," Heather promised.

"So, does it work?" Dhuwalia inquired, striding back into room five.  He'd accompanied Bonnie down to the drug closet – luckily the combination hadn't been changed in the week and a half since he'd last come in for a shift – and after showing her where to look and writing down the name of the drug they needed for April, he'd left her to the task so he could return to his patient.

"Once it's plugged in, yes," Heather answered, handing the end of the power cord to Jeff and pointing at the wall socket.  "Sorry, seven months pregnant," she reminded sweetly.

"Yeah," Jeff muttered, dropping to his knees so he could worm his way between a rolling chest of basic medical supplies and a chair to plug in the ultrasound machine.

"And you turn it on here," Heather explained to Dhuwalia, flipping a switch on the side of the machine.  It hummed quickly to life, and although she stood at the ready with the manual, the doctor didn't avail himself of it.    Frowning, he adjusted a few knobs, then turned toward Jeff, inquiring about transducer gel.  The younger man moved across the room, grabbed a bottle off the counter and plunked it down on the ultrasound cart.  Dhuwalia nodded curtly, his attention returning to the screen and control panel before him.

Bonnie rushed into the room, an IV bag clutched in her hand.  Dodging Jeff and then Heather, she reached Dhuwalia's side and showed it to him. "Yeah, vancomycin, good," he confirmed, ordering, "Start her on a drip, two hundred fifty milligrams IV…."  But Bonnie couldn't hear him or see his lips and, frustrated, he grabbed for the bag, grinding out "I'll do it."

"I'll do it!" Jeff exclaimed, intercepting the IV bag.  "Bonnie, c'mon," he said, waving her over so he could show her how to add the drug to April's IV.

"We found four people who are O-negative," Jake announced, jogging into April's room, juggling a couple of bags of donated blood, Jessica hot on his heels.  She relieved him of the blood, and he stepped back, out of the way, naturally finding his way to his wife's side.  "Hey," he murmured, reaching for her hand. 

"Hey," she returned, offering him a thin, ghost of a smile.  "Success, huh?"  Jake had found her, thirty or forty minutes earlier, to ask if she knew April's blood type.  She hadn't – and neither had his mother – though Heather had been able to tell him that April kept a medical chart on herself in her office.  April had been the only MD in town for over a month, Heather had reminded, and besides once she'd known she was pregnant, she'd wanted a record – a journal, really – of her experience.  Jeff had searched April's clothing for her office key – and then her office for the chart – but unfortunately, while she'd captured much more than was usually found in a medical file, she hadn't recorded that particular piece of information within it.  And so, the search for O-negative donors had continued.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, exhaling softly.  "You too, right?" Jake asked, pointing at the ultrasound.  "You got it working."

"I just found one that worked," Heather corrected, shaking her head.  "There's a difference.  And, God, I'm pretty sure it's at least twelve years old," she groaned, turning the manual cover so she could show him the colophon page and – more importantly – the copyright date of 1994.  "I – I didn't even have my driver's license."

"But it works," Jake reminded, squeezing her fingers. "That's the important part."

"Doctor," Mimi began, trying to get Dhuwalia's attention as he maneuvered the ultrasound cart a few inches closer to April's bed, "Fetal heart rate is—"

"We'll get it off the ultrasound," he interrupted.

"Blood pressure is one thirty over seventy," Gail announced, "Respiratory rate is eighteen and her pulse is eighty-eight.  It's going up," she declared, relieved.

Frowning, Jessica shook her head.  "She's losing blood," she argued, trading places with Jeff next to April's IV pole.  She slipped a bag of blood onto the hook at the top of the pole.  "Her heart is compensating by pumping harder."

Dhuwalia squirted gel onto April's abdomen and then began to run the ultrasound wand over it.  "Start an IV for the blood," he commanded, reminding, "Whatever else, we need to get her blood volume up."  He peered at the image on the screen – everyone was looking toward the screen – studying it intently as he slowly moved the wand lower. 

A long, tense fifteen seconds passed and then – finally – Gail gave voice to the question that was caught in all their throats.  "What – what do you see?"

"Placenta previa," Dhuwalia answered flatly.

Next to him, her hand clutched in his, Jake felt more than heard his wife gasp.  He glanced at her quickly, taking in the shock in her expression, the tight, thin line of her lips pressed together.  Heather had been reading – studying – pregnancy books like she expected to be graded on how she did.  It was endearing, so typical Heather, and he would've worried had she not thrown herself so fully into learning what was coming, if she hadn't embraced being pregnant so completely.  Obviously, she understood what placenta previa was, and although he knew placenta – even without her semi-regular, impromptu lessons, provided when she read something in one of her books that she thought was particularly interesting – he didn't know previa. "What's that?" he questioned, glancing between his wife and the three doctors.

Jeff and Jessica had joined Dhuwalia around the ultrasound, blocking everyone else's view of the screen, while Dhuwalia pointed out what he was seeing to the two of them.  "There," he muttered "And there."

Frowning, Jeff looked back over his shoulder, explaining, "The placenta is covering the entire cervix –"

"And there's no way for me to find out where the bleeding is coming from unless we operate," Dhuwalia added, clearly frustrated.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Gail demanded, her face ashen, worry sharpening her tone.

Dhuwalia turned around to face her.  "Under the best of circumstances, this is not an operating facility," he declared.

"Jake…" Heather prompted quietly enough that he doubted anyone else had heard her.

"Then we don't have a choice," he declared, tightening his grip on her hand.

"We cannot operate here," Dhuwalia returned, stripping off his gloves.

"Why?" Jake challenged, stepping closer to the doctor, the hold he had on Heather's hand forcing her to move with him.

Shaking his head, Dhuwalia's gaze shifted back and forth between Heather and Jake.  "I have been through this more times than you can possibly imagine."

Jake had been in enough tense situations in his life that he could recognize when one had the potential to spin out of control, and he knew he couldn't let that happen here.  Now.  "Well, we've all been through a lot, all right," he tried calmly.  "Just tell us what you need and we'll—"

"I've seen hundreds of people die because of dirty facilities and infection," Dhuwalia interrupted, his voice rising in his agitation.  "And because I didn't have the proper medicine or the equipment that I needed.  I am not doing it again," he proclaimed.

"We are not losing this baby!" Gail insisted.

"Or April," Heather added, a sob catching in her throat.  "We have to help her."

Dhuwalia just shook his head.  "Well," he bit out, throwing his gloves down on the cart, "You can find yourself another butcher."

"Jeff?  Jessica?" Jake questioned as Dhuwalia stomped out of the room, "Is there any way—"

"We can't do this without him," Jessica interrupted, frowning.  She glanced sideways at Jeff and they stared at one another, speechless for a long moment.  "I wish we could," she said finally, "But we just can't."

"April couldn't do this by herself," Jeff admitted, expelling a shallow, almost hiccupping breath.  "It's exploratory, obstetrical surgery," he emphasized, "It – she needs a surgeon."

Jake nodded in acknowledgment and, dropping his wife's hand, took off out of the room and after Dhuwalia, catching up with about twenty feet down the hall.  The surgeon – and that was how Jake had to think of him, as a surgeon, as the only person who could help April, the only one who could save her life. Not as his friend, and not as the wounded soul he so obviously was, but as a surgeon and as April's only hope.   Dhuwalia – the surgeon – was standing in the middle of the corridor, his hands covering his face, heedless of all the clinic activity happening around him.  He didn't look good.

"There's gotta be a way," Jake began gently but firmly, the way he'd speak to a restless horse or to Baron.  "C'mon," he cajoled before pleading, "Kenchy."

"Listen," Dhuwalia commanded, rotating around so that he was facing Jake.  "We need a sterile operating room, sterile instruments, anesthesia," he listed.  He was looking past Jake now, and the other man glanced back over his shoulder, confirming the presence of his mother, Heather, Jessica and Jeff right behind him.  "Spinal block tray, cesarean tray," he continued, shaking his head at the impossibility of it all.  "Have you ever even seen a surgery before without an electro cardio machine?" Dhuwalia asked acerbically.  "No, you haven't," he answered himself, "Because it's not even taught anymore."

"So, you teach us," Jeff argued.  "April – April says there's things only you can teach us, and – and – this has gotta be one of 'em.  Teach us," he repeated.  "You – you said you owed her.  So, help her!  Help us help her."

"Can't we just use laparotomy sponges to stop the bleeding?" Jessica suggested.

Dhuwalia pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger.  "God, my head is killing me," he complained quietly.  But at least, Jake couldn't help but think, he seemed to be listening.

"We've got several spinal block trays," Gail informed him.

"Even got anesthesia," Jeff offered.

"And we can boil the sheets and the tools," Jessica declared.

The surgeon still looked like he could be sick at any moment, still looked like he wanted to argue, but then he gave the slightest of nods.  It had to be an involuntary gesture, but Jake seized upon it anyway.  "Is it possible?" he demanded.

"Remotely," Dhuwalia conceded through clenched teeth.

"Then start," Jake requested, letting out a long-held breath.

Heather moved next to Jake then, wrapping her arm around his, and catching Dhuwalia's eye.  "Kenchy.  Please."

 * * * * * *

"Hey," Stanley hailed softly, coming up behind Gray, Johnston, Carolyn and Norm.  "We've gotta problem," he told them, jerking his head to indicate that they should move away from the building and – more importantly – away from the foot traffic in and out of clinic.

"What's that?" Johnston returned, though he could think of ten major problems the council was currently juggling.  He didn't even want to consider the myriad of small issues that they didn't have the time to notice – let alone handle – and he sure didn't want to spend too much time contemplating the crisis his daughter-in-law and grandchild were going through inside the medical center.  Please, God he thought, sending that simple prayer heavenward for what had to be the five hundredth time that day.

"Okay, so, Eddie and Frank are asking how come we're not makin' the deal," Stanley reported once they were standing on the sidewalk outside the now closed main entrance to the facility.

"Word's gonna start to spread," Johnston muttered, his expression turning sour.

"As far as they know, the Marines said the Army Corps of Engineers would be here in a month, six weeks, tops," Stanley reminded.  "'What difference does it make if we give New Bern a part of next year's crop?'" he said, obviously quoting part of their conversation.

"Well, they think there's gonna be food by then," Carolyn surmised, sighing.  "Understandable."

"You all didn't want to tell them it was a bunch of crap," Gray grumbled, casting a reproachful glance at the four of them. 

"We had to do something," Johnston argued.  "Besides, it was gonna come to a head soon enough.  Now?  Or three weeks from now?  Take your pick."

"So now, what're we gonna do?" Gray demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

It was a long moment before anyone responded, and then – somewhat surprisingly – it was Stanley who spoke up.  "All right," he decided, nodding his head, "Maybe we should tell the town that help's not comin'.  That we just told them that to give 'em something to get through the winter."

In his heart of hearts, it was what Johnston wanted to do, too.  It would be the honest thing to do – and he hated lying – but it wasn't necessarily the right thing to do, even now, with their backs against the wall and New Bern snapping at their heels.  "Town's already on edge," he cautioned, grinding his fist against his leg.  "We'll have anarchy," he predicted.

"Well, I'm not going to leverage next winter's food," Gray announced, "That would be suicide."

"That's not—"

"Stanley," Johnston interrupted, his tone sharp.  He stared – glared, really – at the younger man, though he was entirely sympathetic to his cause. 

Gray had gotten better at leading over the last few weeks, but at times like these – these stressful, pressure-filled situations – he had a tendency to panic and revert to his previous, dictatorial form.  Because the fact of the matter was that Gray couldn't make decisions about the spring crop.  Not unilaterally anyway.  The agreement between the Farmer's Alliance and the town still left control of the farms in the hands of the owners.  The farmers had pledged to feed the town, had agreed to trade a stake in their crops and their livestock for access to Jericho and her amenities: additional labor as needed, rights to use the medical center, a seat on the town council, a share of any and all relief supplies, a portion of the town's bio-fuel production (for which they provided the bulk of the biomass anyway), the privilege to send their children to Jericho's schools, when (and if) they reopened. But they had not ceded their property rights.

"We are all in agreement, and until we're all in agreement, we don't talk to New Bern," Johnston declared, looking at each of his four companions in turn.  "That's the only way this works."

"What if we tell New Bern that we'll give them ten percent of next year's crop?" Stanley proposed.  "We get power now," he reasoned, "And if next year we don't have the food to give, we don't give it up."

Johnston felt his heart plummet into his stomach.  "That's how wars get started," he contended.

* * * * * *

"Heth!  Jake," Michael said, coming to a stop in front of his sister and brother-in-law.  They were seated just outside April's clinic room, Heather leaning against Jake, her eyes closed, his arm around her shoulders, their heads together.  "What's happening with April?" he demanded.

"Kenchy's getting ready to operate," Jake told him, straightening in his chair though he kept his arm around his wife.  "She's got placenta – uh – placenta previa, and he says he can't tell where the bleeding's coming from—"

"So, yeah, he's got to operate," Michael agreed, nodding thoughtfully.  "And it explains the bleeding.  The contractions, too, though that's not as common of a symptom or anything."

Jake shook his head, offering his brother-in-law a half-hearted grin.  "You only had, like, six weeks of med school," he reminded, "I don't know how you learned all this, let alone remember it."

"I was pre-med," Michael argued, "And an EMT.  Plus, since we got to Jericho," he shrugged, his gaze drifting to his sister, "I've been studying up on obstetrics, okay?"

"Just so long as you understand, you're my OB of last resort," Heather sighed, massaging her pregnant belly with both hands.

"That's cool," he chuckled nervously.  "The idea of seeing you naked kinda freaks me out, anyway."

"Yeah, me too," she mumbled, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. 

"Actually, the idea of seeing April naked freaks me out, too," Michael admitted.  "Some doctor I'll be, huh?" he grumbled.  "You're supposed to be able to detach from your patients.  But, you know, Jeff was already thinking about obstetrics before everything happened.  So, she's in good hands, with Kenchy and Jeff."

"Good," his sister acknowledged, her eyes fluttering closed.  She leaned against Jake's shoulder, yawning softly.  "So—"

"Sis – don't take this the wrong way – but, you don't look so good," Michael interrupted her, frowning.  Her face was pale and drawn – and she was seven months pregnant.  The last thing they needed was for her to come down with some sort of complication.

"I'm just worried about April.  And, probably, I need a drink of water," Heather claimed, forcing a smile as she sat up in her seat.  "But, really, I'm fine."

"You need to eat something," Jake countered, "Seriously, babe, you skipped lunch."

"Lunch-shmunch," she grumbled, "When was the last time either of you had lunch?"

"Yeah, well, we're not pregnant," Jake retorted, squeezing her hand.  "You're eating for two, remember?  B.G. wants his lunch/dinner."

"Okay, first, according to every pregnancy book I've ever read, it's eating for a very healthy one, not for two," she informed them, an obstinate note creeping into her tone.  "And second, I'm not going home 'til we know April's okay.  So there."

"Luckily, Mrs. Davis is already here with dinner for the staff," Michael announced.  "So there," he mimicked.  "And – not that I think she's not gonna give you some – but if she won't, then tell her I gave you mine."  He looked at his brother-in-law.  "She's set up in the staff lounge.  Look, I better get back to work.  But I'll check on you later," he promised, "Okay?"

"Thanks, Mike," Jake acknowledged with a nod.  The younger man returned the gesture, then started back down the hallway.  "C'mon," Jake prompted, pressing one hand against her belly, their child safe inside her.  As always seemed to happen, his touch was rewarded with a gentle kick.  Jake grinned.  "See, that was Morse code.  B.G. wants his dinner."

"I know Morse code, too, you know," Heather sighed, "And that was just an 'E', or maybe a 'T'."

"Yeah, exactly," Jake agreed, climbing to his feet and turning around to offer her both his hands.  "Eat.  That's what B.G.'s sayin'."

"Fine," Heather said, flashing him a rather watery smile.  She grasped his hands, allowing him to help her pull herself up.  "You win.  B.G. wants dinner."

Shannon Davis began dishing up bowls of stew for Heather and for Jake as soon as they appeared in the doorway of the staff lounge, waving them into chairs around the table and asking for any news on April. 

"Well, Dr. Dhuwalia's gonna operate, see if he can stop her bleeding," Jake explained, accepting a bowl from her after she'd insisted for a second time that he eat something too. "So that's where we're at.  We're gonna go wait after this, but Heather really needed to eat something."

"Of course," Shannon murmured, smiling at the younger woman.  "There really is plenty, so if you want some more – please – take it."

"I think you'll get plenty of customers," Heather countered, blowing on her – amazingly – still hot stew.  "It just might be an hour or two.  But thank you.  How's Lindsay doing?"

"Better," Shannon assured.  "Though, she doesn't want me to tell Dr. Maguire that, because she's still hoping for at least one more house call," she joked.  "After two sons more interested in hunting and fishing than girls, I wasn't quite prepared for my daughter to turn thirteen and boy-crazy," she admitted with a wry grin.

"That's not something we're gonna hafta worry about for quite a while," Heather reminded her husband, leaning toward him.

He brushed a kiss across her mouth, saying, "Yeah, 'specially if B.G.'s a boy." 

"You know that's not necessarily true," Heather returned, sighing.

"The truth is, you never know what you're gonna get with any kid, boy or girl," Shannon cautioned.  "So, you love 'em, you do the best you can, make judicious use of time-outs – for you and for them – and you hope everything works out," she declared.    "And now, you both have my two bits of parenting advice to add to your – no doubt – growing collection," she chuckled.  "So, with that, I'm gonna go see if I can drum up some customers who aren't heading into surgery."

"Thanks," the two Greens called after her as she slipped out the door.  Jake got up, moving around the table to get a couple of glasses which he then filled up at the sink.  "Here, your water," he said, handing one to Heather and taking the opportunity to glance at her bowl.  She had two – three at the most – bites left to eat.  Color was coming back into her complexion and she was smiling, albeit hesitantly.  "You want some more?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, "But no.  Everyone else needs to eat, too," Heather insisted.  "And I needed to eat, you were right about that."  She took a sip of water, and then reached for his hand, pressing it into the side of her belly.  "Now B.G. really is transmitting in Morse code," she joked.  Their baby was always more active right after she'd eaten.

"Tap dancing," Jake agreed.  "Okay, I gotta think about this," he announced, and then a few seconds later, nodding to himself, he was tapping something in response.

"'Love U'?" Heather guessed.  "And just the 'U'," she noted, "Not 'Y' – 'O' –"

"Too many dashes in 'Y' and 'O'," he argued, "And it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Absolutely," she returned before picking up her bowl and finishing off her stew.

Jake watched her, silently, as she placed her bowl back on the table and then reached for her glass, taking another drink of water.  She didn't put the glass back, instead holding onto it, absently rolling it back and forth between her two hands.  Finally, she met his gaze, her eyes bright with unshed tears.  "Tell me," he ordered quietly. 

Heather's face crumpled, and she wiped her eyes quickly with the back of one hand, the other gripped tightly around her glass.  "This – this shouldn't be hap – happening to her," she managed to choke out before stopping to take a deep breath.  "She doesn't have any of the risk factors.  She's white, and she's under thirty-five.  April – she's never smoked, never used drugs, never been pregnant before this or had an abortion," Heather listed.  "Scar tissue can cause this.  Or having twins or triplets.  But none of that applies to April," she insisted. 

"None of it applies to you, either," he reminded, exhaling a relieved breath.  "Thank God."  Jake reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.  "I hate – hate that this is happening to her," he assured her, letting out another shallow breath, "But it would be a million times worse if this were happening to you."  She frowned softly at that and he squeezed her hand, adding, "Sorry, babe, but for me, it would be."

"I know," she murmured, returning his squeeze and placing her glass on the table, freeing up her other hand.  "I just…."  But she didn't – couldn't – complete her thought.  "Back before, they would've identified this in a second trimester ultrasound," she informed him.  "You get that at sixteen to twenty weeks, so you know April would've already had it, and they would've seen it, and she would've gone on bedrest, or whatever they wanted her to do, and it'd be okay."  Heather paused, her lips pressed tightly together as she fought for control.  "She'd be okay." 

"Hey, she's gonna be okay," Jake promised, although he knew he was an idiot for saying so.  Anything could happen, especially given their current circumstances.  "Kenchy's gonna figure why she's bleeding, and he's gonna stop it and – and – it's gonna be okay."

He could see in her eyes that Heather wanted to believe him, but there was also doubt, and Jake could understand that.  She was too smart and she knew too much about what was going on, about their resources or – more accurately – their lack of resources, to just accept his empty assurances.  But still, she smiled weakly and nodded.  "Yeah, it's gonna be okay," she parroted.

"Okay," Jake echoed, returning her smile.  He reached for his bowl, telling her, "I just need to finish this, and then we can go back, okay?"

"Yep," she agreed, "Because you and I both know you don't want your mother hearing from Shannon that you didn't finish your dinner," Heather teased, though her heart didn't really seem to be in it.

"Hell, no," he confirmed with a chuckle that quickly turned into a sigh.

"So, Jake – uh – Jeff wants me to have an ultrasound," Heather told him a few seconds later, inhaling softly.  "Now that we have a machine that works, and we're gonna have the wind turbine here—"

"Heather," he interrupted after swallowing his latest bite of venison and cabbage whole, "I want that, too," Jake told her.  "Look, we've – we've just been goin' along, assuming that it was all gonna be okay—"

"Everything has been okay, Jake," she interrupted, her hands arranged protectively over their baby.

"Yeah, but we should know if there's anything – not just placenta previa, but anything – that could go wrong, so we can … get ahead of it," he reasoned, "Figure out a plan."

They shared a look then, their eyes locking.  There was so much more to say on the topic, and they both knew it.  But they also knew that if they started to discuss it now – here – it would spiral out of their control, take them places that they couldn't afford to go at this moment, not when April needed them, even if all they could really offer was moral support.  That particular 'what if' conversation would just have to keep.  "No, I agree," she said finally, nodding.  "And I already told Jeff I'd do it in a day or two, once this all calms down," Heather explained.  "I just wanted you to know what's comin' up."

"All right if I tag along?" Jake inquired, flashing her a quick grin.  The sight of April's baby – tiny and vulnerable and full of promise – on the ultrasound machine had started his pulse racing, had left his mouth dry; and now, just the thought of being able to see his own unborn child in the same way made his head swim.  "See B.G.'s big screen – well, it's a pretty small screen – but, see his screen debut for myself?" he joked.

"Yeah," she sighed.  "'Cause I really need you there," she said, reaching for his hand.  "For handholding and 'oohing' and 'aahing' if nothing else."

"Well, I'm good for at least two of those things," he assured, squeezing her fingers.  "Not so sure about the 'oohing'," Jake clarified before withdrawing his hand so he could scrape together the last spoonful his bowl had to offer.

"But 'aahing' you don't have a problem with?" she said, fighting a smile and shaking her head at him.

 "Here," he said, holding the spoon out for her. "Say 'aah'," Jake ordered.

Heather accepted the bite.  "Carrots," she grumbled after swallowing.  "I know what you're up to, mister."  It was a major understatement to say he didn't care for cooked carrots, and it was only in their current state of scarcity that he deigned to eat them – most of the time – now.

"Yeah, feeding my wife and my kid," Jake said, feigning outrage that she would question his motives on this matter.  "So, maybe – maybe when we get you that ultrasound, maybe we can find out if we're gonna have EJ or Abby," he suggested softly, a beat later.

"Maybe," she shrugged, stacking their bowls together and dropping both spoons in the top bowl.  "Just so we confirm that it's not EJ and Abby," Heather added, expelling a nervous breath.  "But we could just let it be a surprise."

"You don't wanna know, huh?" he realized.

Heather made a face, pursing her lips and wrinkling her forehead.  "Not really, no," she confessed.  "I want it to be a surprise, I want April or Jeff or your mom to announce it, right when they hand me – us – B.G.  I want – I want that, that piece of happiness, at that exact moment."  They watched one another for a long moment before she asked, "Is that okay?"

"Very okay," he assured, leaning in to brush a kiss across her frown. "Sounds perfect, actually."  Jake climbed to his feet and reached for her hand.  "C'mon," he invited.  "And leave the dishes.  Shannon'll understand."

The crowd in the clinic was thinning out now, a sign that it was getting later in the day, closer to dusk, closer to dark.  Jake led Heather down the hall and around the corner, heading back toward April's room, adjacent to the trauma bays in the emergency department.   

"Heather, Jake," Drake greeted, exiting room five just as they arrived back at the three chairs lined up against the wall that they had claimed for their waiting area. 

"Have they started?" Heather asked, leaning against her husband.  "How's April?"

"They're close, but we found another O-negative donor," Drake replied, "So Mike's collecting his donation.  They need to operate, but they need to have extra blood on hand, too.  Just in –"

"Jake!"  The sound of his brother's voice carried across the clinic.  "Jake!" Eric called out again as he and his twin moved toward one another.  "How's April?  Where is she?" he asked once they were within five feet of each other.  "What's happening?"

"What's her blood type?" Jake demanded, ignoring his brother's questions.  "Eric!" he challenged, grabbing him by the arm, "What's April's blood type?"

"O," he answered, blinking hard.  "O-positive, same as me," Eric added. 

"You sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure.  We – I'm sure.  She – April needs blood?" he realized in the next instance.  "I'll donate – I can donate blood for her," Eric volunteered, exhaling raggedly. 

Drake, arriving along with Heather at Jake's side, shook his head.  "You said O-positive, right?"

"Yes," Eric retorted, "O-positive, like me."

"Practically every other person around here is O-positive," Drake told them, grinning in relief.  "And everybody we've asked wants to donate for April, we just didn't know who – besides the O-negatives – it was safe to take."  His gaze settled on Mary who was waiting, arms crossed, just behind Eric.  "So what's your blood type?"

"Oh!  A – uh – A-negative," she answered, "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," Drake shrugged, "There's lots of other people.  I'm gonna go tell Mike," he informed them.  "The more blood we have ready to go, the better."

"Hey, Drake, I'm O-positive, too," Jake reminded as the younger man turned away. 

"Yep.  When you're ready, come to the lab," he instructed over his shoulder.

Eric started to follow Drake, but his brother stepped into his path, blocking the way.  "Jake, I can – I wanna donate for April and the baby!" he protested.  "I hafta help them!  Anything I can do to help them."

"I know that," Jake acknowledged, "But Eric, just stop, okay?" he ordered.  "Because, look, they're taking her into surgery any minute now."

"What?" Eric questioned, "Here?  No, they can't," he argued, "You can't do surgery here.  They don't do surgery here," he told them, his voice frantic, "The facility's not licensed for that.  Not even planned C-sections in the birth center.  Not even outpatient procedures.  They can't do that here!"

"Yeah, well, here's all we got," Jake snapped.  "And she needs surgery."

"Eric," Heather interjected, addressing – acknowledging – her brother-in-law for the first time in a month or more.  "Eric, you want to help her?  Then you need to be in there with her," she told him, her eyes flashing.  "April needs you."

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

Friday January 25, five years before the bombs

"Well, Jake Green, don't you clean up nice."

Jake dropped the trunk closed, and slung his duffle bag up and over his shoulder – his garment bag was draped over his other arm – before turning around to see who it was that had addressed him.  "Stephanie, Derek," he greeted, recognizing the pair holding hands on the sidewalk beside his car.  They had been a year ahead of him in school, but Jericho High was a small school and they had been a rather infamous couple.  Plus, he and Derek had been baseball teammates. 

"Uh, thanks," he added, not entirely sure that she was offering him a compliment – or that she should.  There had been no less than three major accidents in Denver, and his usual three hour – though he always told his mother that it took him three and a half – drive home had taken him more than seven.  At this point, His jacket and shirt were pretty rumpled, and he didn't think his slacks had fared much better.  "So, what're you two up to tonight?" he inquired, stepping out of the street and up onto the sidewalk with the Hydes.

"Tonight is date night," Stephanie announced as the three of them started walking east on Fourteenth Street, heading toward Berge Avenue. 

"We're headin' over to Bailey's Tavern," Derek added, "Same as you, right?"

"Yeah," Jake agreed, surprised.  He would have guessed The Jericho Grille or Roma Italia for 'date night', even though both of those establishments were over on Wilber Street, a good three blocks farther of a walk from their current location than Bailey's Tavern was.   "They just put in a mechanical bull, so I'm supposed to meet my fiancée and—"

"I met her the other day," Stephanie interrupted.  "Your fiancée," she clarified, "I really like her."

"Yeah, me too," Jake chuckled.  Heather had told him she'd met Stephanie Hyde, and that was probably why he'd been able to come up with her name moments before.  She'd changed some since high school – gained a few pounds, cut her hair, didn't wear as much make-up now as she had back then, though he suspected that she was wearing more tonight than she usually did these days – but he could still see in her the pretty if somewhat shy teenager she'd once been.  But the truth was he hadn't seen her or Derek – hadn't thought about them – in probably seven or eight years.

"Okay, yeah, that was a stupid thing to say," Stephanie laughed.  "It's not like I'd tell you if I didn't like her.  Or you'd listen to me if I did."

"Nah, don't think I would," Jake confirmed.  "Though if you said she was too good for me, I'd probably hafta agree with that," he joked.

"I don't think she's too good for you," Stephanie returned, once again surprising Jake.  "Mostly because I don't think she thinks she's too good for you.  And – admittedly – I'm basing this on a ten-minute conversation while we were in line at the pharmacy, but the impression I got was she thinks you're great, and that she loves you a lot.  She said you guys really clicked."

"Yeah," he acknowledged, clearing his throat.  "She's pretty great, too."

"And?" Stephanie prompted.

They had reached Berge Avenue – Fourteenth Street dead-ended into it – and Jake was able to ignore her for a few seconds as they crossed to the other side and then turned north, heading toward Almond Lane. 

"Well, I guess you don't have to tell me that you love your fiancée the first time we talk to each other since, like, 1994," Stephanie allowed.  "But I sure hope you tell her that you love her."

"I do," Jake said finally.  "I love her and I tell her.  Happy?"

 "Extremely," Stephanie grinned.

Cars were parked bumper to bumper on both sides of the street, and for as far up Berge Avenue as Jake could see.  When he'd been looking earlier, there hadn't been any parking within four blocks of Bailey's Tavern in any direction.  Briefly, he'd considered availing himself of his father's spot behind town hall – Eric's Explorer had been in the vice mayor's parking space – but he'd known that all it would take was for the right deputy (Bill Kilroy had come to mind) to walk by and his car would have been as good as towed.  Jake had checked his watch, seen that it was after seven, and decided that he'd have better luck if he tried to park farther out and just accepted the ten-minute walk that was ahead of him.  "These cars… seriously, all these people are comin' out for a mechanical bull?"

"They're makin' a big deal of it," Derek answered.  "There're flyers everywhere, all over town—"

"Quarter page ad on the front page of The Jericho Record this morning," Stephanie threw out.  "And I heard a radio commercial earlier, too.  On the Rogue River station, so it was probably playing on the Fielding station, too."

"You're joking, right?" Jake grumbled softly.

"Nope," Derek said, shaking his head.  "I was in the feed store yesterday, and Stanley Richmond was tellin' anyone who'd listen all about it.  Said he's riding first, and you're goin' second."

"I think I was tricked into agreeing to this," Jake said, allowing an exasperated chuckle.  "Mary Bailey got Heather to ask me when I was out of town," he complained, making another frustrated noise.  "So, Derek, you riding tonight?"

"Hell, no," was the other man's quick response.  "Your fiancée convinced you to do this?  Well, maybe you still need to seal that deal –"

"Hey, our deal's sealed," Jake had assured. "The Catholic Church just has a six-month waiting period for getting married, and Heather and her dad are Catholic."

"Fair enough," Derek nodded.  "But still, I've got two kids and a wife who says she's driving home tonight," he continued, grinning at Stephanie.  "That's a big enough night in my book, and all without embarrassing myself in front of the whole town.  Besides, I also have four hundred cows that hafta be milked tomorrow – early – which means I'm up at four AM."

"And that's why date night turns into a pumpkin at nine thirty tonight," Stephanie sighed.

Jake groaned.  "Think I'll stick to horses," he told the Hydes as they reached the corner of Almond and, after waiting for a truck – its driver obviously searching for a parking place – to come through the intersection, they crossed the street and turned east.

"You takin' over your family's ranch?" Derek asked, clearly interested in the answer.

"Nah," Jake denied quickly, "Not any time soon, at least. I'm supposed to be on administrative leave, but I just spent the week in Denver, working," he explained with his next breath, pointing to his clothes. "Believe me, I'm changing as soon as I get to Bailey's."

"Don't wanna ride a mechanical bull in a neck tie, huh?" Derek drawled, shaking his head.  "Can't say I blame you for that."

"Derek hates ties," Stephanie informed Jake.  "Only wears them to church or if he has to go to the bank."

Jake laughed at that, apologizing with his next breath.  "Sorry, it's not you.  It's – the first time I met Heather, I was wearing a suit – on my way home from a week in Denver for work, actually – and that's what she asked me.  'Do you work at the bank?'" he explained.  "So that's funny to me – the bank."  Stephanie and Derek both chuckled appreciatively.  "Anyway," Jake continued a moment later, "My job, it's interesting and I'm actually pretty good at it.  So, for now at least…." He trailed off, shrugging.

He and Heather had talked about this just the night before, both of them feeling a little frustrated over their admittedly short separation, and both feeling a little silly for minding, given that they'd be reunited in less than twenty-four hours. Jake liked his job, but he loved Heather, and he was starting to wonder how compatible those two things really were. He'd told her – not for the first time – that he wasn't going to work for the DEA forever, that eventually he'd go to one of his back-up plans, flying or ranching. That he would be closer to home.

"Good," she'd murmured. "Because I think – or, really, I don't think – I don't think we should have kids until you're here at least most of the time," Heather had continued nervously. "I know what I'm getting myself into," she'd claimed, though Jake had wondered if she really did, "And I'm choosing it. But a child isn't gonna get to make that choice, and besides, kids are pretty much a fulltime endeavor."

"Yeah," he'd acknowledged, nodding to himself. "Kids – kids deserve that. Two parents who are present, like – like we both had.  Like we're gonna be." 

"Exactly," she'd agreed, and Jake had caught himself smiling, knowing he'd said the right thing. 

"Besides, somebody's gonna need to be available to drive 'em to school at a decent hour – if seven thirty can be considered decent – once you're the principal and you decide you hafta be the first one there every single day," he'd joked, predicting, "Because our kids are probably gonna take after me and wanna sleep as late as possible."

It had been Heather who had started this dialogue – 'thinking ahead', she'd called it – between them, almost as soon as they'd gotten engaged, and it still surprised Jake to realize how easily he'd fallen into it with her.  He'd never been a person who'd enjoyed discussing his future plans with anyone; too many awkward, stilted conversations during his teen years with his parents and even his grandparents, he supposed.  But it was different with Heather.  Her vision of the life they would build together was so charming, so full of possibility, and Jake had found himself drawn into it, always awaiting the next little tidbit she would impart.  He'd started joining in, too, at first just offering a corrected detail here or there, but soon he'd begun making bold statements such as this one, claiming their future offspring for the night owl camp.

"You know that I'm not actually against sleeping in," Heather had reminded, "Never have been.  Though I must admit to having a new found appreciation for the practice as of late," she'd added, her voice growing husky.

"Plus, there's somethin' to be said for just not getting outta bed at all," Jake had countered.

"That there is," she'd agreed and he'd heard the smile in her tone.  "But – sadly – I am on a career path that is rather incompatible with making a habit of sleeping late."

"Well, there's always summer vacation," he'd suggested.  "Christmas break.  Federal holidays.  Weekends."

"Yes!  Saturdays are very good days to sleep in, especially when someone who loves you gets up just a little bit earlier and makes you pancakes," she'd teased.

"Yeah, I've heard that," he'd returned drily.

"Well, if our children do take after you when it comes to sleeping in – and they probably will," Heather has chuckled, "Then you are very sweet to say you'll drive them to school a little later so they can sleep in some.  Though remember," she'd added a few seconds later, "They still need to be on time."

"You sure it has to be on time?" Jake had joked, "Like every day?"

"I'm actually quite sure that it's bad for the principal's – or any teacher's – kids to be labeled truant, yes," she'd groaned. 

"Fine," he'd conceded.  "But I'm warnin' you now, at least some of the time, breakfast's gonna end up being a doughnut and chocolate milk from McBee's Bakery." It had been Johnston's breakfast of last resort on those infrequent occasions when getting his sons to school on time had been left all up to him.  "That's what my dad used to get us for breakfast if Mom was out of town or something," he'd told her.  "Or we'd stop by on our way outta town, if we were going camping or hunting, or for baseball, and we were leaving early Saturday morning instead of Friday night."

"So, you can get up before noon on Saturday!" Heather had practically crowed.  "When you want to, you can.  Jake, you totally just admitted it," she'd accused gleefully.

"Aw, man.  I'm busted, huh?" he'd asked, laughing at himself.

"You are so busted, mister," she'd declared, giggling.

"Well, can I pay it off in pancakes?" Jake had inquired, although he'd already known the answer.  Pancakes and whether he'd make them for her had become a recurring theme in their speculative discussions of the future, so much so that he'd ordered her pancakes from room service while they'd been in Jackson Hole, and Heather – who had never actually tasted a pancake that Jake had had anything to do with making – had decided that the hotel's twenty-five dollar short stack was lacking in comparison to the pancakes he'd one day make for her. 

"I think pancakes will do nicely," Heather had decided.  "Plus, on those days – and it really can't be every day – that you take our children to get doughnuts for breakfast, you can bring me a doughnut, too."

"I think I can manage that," Jake had allowed.  "So, here's the deal," he'd declared a moment later.  "When we have kids, I'll be home in Jericho so I can do things like drive them to school and buy them – and you – doughnuts for breakfast.  But no more than twice a week – say Tuesdays and Thursdays – because Saturdays are reserved for pancakes, and I'm in charge of those, too.  Sounds good?"

"Sounds perfect," she'd murmured contentedly. 

"Yeah, it does."  They had agreed that kids were a few years off, and Jake could feel himself being ready to give up his job – without regrets – by then.  More than anything though, he wasn't willing to give up Heather and what they would have together – what they would build together – for his job.  "But I also reserve the right to quit my job before we have kids," he'd added, clearing his throat.  "If I'm gone too much, miss you too much.  Quit my job – and then get another one real quick, of course," he'd chuckled softly.

"Well, yeah, requirements must be met," she'd teased then, though over their cell connection he'd heard a hint of a sniff in her voice, too.

"Hey, all I'm talkin' about is the official, Lisinski approved plan B-slash-C," Jake had argued, "My bases are covered."

"One hundred percent pre-approved, yes," Heather had concurred. "Plus, technically, there is also a back-up plan D."

"Yeah, but plan D is really plan D," he'd grumbled. "D for 'dud' or 'damn' or somethin'."

"Fair enough," she'd sighed, "But – just for the record – you should know that I am not gonna try and talk you out of it if you decide to execute on plans B or C a little early, mister."

"Good," Jake had returned, "'Cause I'll be pissed if you do. In fact, if you ever even just think you need to talk me into executing early, you should do it."

Though – much as he'd suspected she would – Heather had rejected this suggestion.  "That wouldn't be fair," she'd argued.  "And besides, I'd probably start right now," she'd admitted, groaning softly.  "But, it's your job, Jake, so it's your decision – when you stop.  I mean, if you're still doing it ten years from now, I'm gonna object.  But outside of that… we have a timeline," she'd reminded, "And I'm good with that."

"Okay," he'd acknowledged, "But things change, babe.  So you know, you can change your mind, too."

"…. I'm stickin' with the DEA," Jake informed the Hydes.  "But later – when we have kids – I'm pretty sure I'll be askin' my grandpa for a job," he admitted.  "And, you never know what's gonna happen, right?"  He flashed Stephanie a grin as the three of them started up Spruce Lane.  "I mean, six months ago, I sure didn't expect that I'd be about to get married, but now I am."

They were looking at the backside of Bailey's Tavern and the building was lit up like a Christmas tree, the low thrum that was emanating from the structure indicative of the volume level inside.  "God," Jake swore, shaking his head, "This really is a big deal, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Stephanie laughed sympathetically.  "I mean, it's not like Jericho has a lotta big events," she continued.  "The Fourth of July and Labor Day picnics, the Harvest Festival and football in the fall, right?"

"Hey, there's baseball, too, Steph," Derek protested.

"Well, yeah," she agreed, "Duh.  I do know that I'm walking between two baseball players.  But what I meant is things that get the whole town to come out. Everyone goes to the football games," Stephanie explained.  "And I went to basically every game you guys played in – but I sure didn't see the whole town there.  Plus, nothing ever happens around here in January," she declared.  "So, this came along and people got excited."

"Hafta say, my January's been eventful," Jake argued.  "Got engaged for New Year's, and my birthday was Monday."

"And now you get to ride a mechanical bull in front of the whole town," Stephanie teased as they reached the front door of Bailey's Tavern.  "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," he chuckled, as the bouncer – he'd never seen one at Bailey's before – asked to see their identification. 

After giving each of their driver's licenses a cursory glance, the bouncer had waved the three of them into the building.  Jake had held the door open for the Hydes before following them into the establishment. The place was as packed as he'd ever seen it, every barstool occupied, every booth and table claimed.  Everywhere you looked there were happy, chattering, laughing patrons.  The juke box blared country music, in keeping with the theme of the evening, Jake supposed, noting that the waitresses and bartenders – he counted eight of them, more than he'd ever seen in here all at once – were all wearing cowboy hats.  A couple that he didn't know brushed past them, apologizing, the man leading the woman on a circuitous route through the crowd, in a futile search for a table.  Jake, too, was scanning the room, looking for Heather, but so far, he hadn't located her in the throng.

"That's my sister, Michelle," Stephanie said, pointing toward a booth in the center of the tavern and the blond woman who was waving at them furiously.  Stephanie waved back and then offered Jake a quick smile, squeezing his arm.  "Good luck tonight," she wished him, "It was nice to run into you.  And, again, congratulations.  Like I said, I really like your fiancée."

Derek extended his hand.  "Good to see you, man," he proclaimed, shaking Jake's hand.  "Don't fall off," he advised.

"Yeah, I'll try not to," Jake returned with a groaning chuckle.  "Have a good evening.  A good date night," he corrected himself with his next breath. 

He watched the Hydes maneuver their way toward their booth, Derek keeping a tight grip on Stephanie's hand.  A couple of giggling young women – teenagers probably, he thought, out-of-towners testing out their fake IDs – moved by, forcing him to take a step back.  "Whoa there," a man – Clyde Davis, Jake identified, looking over his shoulder – ordered as Jake's duffle bag knocked into the camera that hung around Clyde's neck.  "Movin' in are you, Jake?" he joked.

"Traffic in Denver was a disaster this afternoon," he explained as he and Clyde disentangled themselves.  "I was supposed to be home three, four hours ago."  His plan had been to head directly to Heather's house, change clothes, and then hang out with her until it was time to head to the bar.  But instead, when he'd still been within the Denver city limits at four fifteen, Jake had called Heather to break the bad news.  They'd talked about once every half hour since then, and when six had rolled around and he was still nearly eighty miles from Jericho, they'd agreed that she should head for Bailey's without him.  "And I need to change before I even think about riding that mechanical bull," Jake informed the newspaper editor.  "You covering this thing for The Record?"

Clyde shrugged.  "It's not hard-hitting journalism, I'll give you that.  But it's still news, and Jim Bailey's spent enough on advertising this week that I really should return the favor.  And since most of my reporters – and all my photographers – aren't old enough to get in here tonight, I'm gettin' to play cub reporter," he chuckled.

"Gotcha," Jake nodded absently, his gaze drifting over the crowd as he tried once more to locate Heather in the mass of people.

"So, everything's still on track in Denver?" Clyde inquired.

"Yeah, it is," Jake frowned softly.  "Trial should be at the end of April, maybe May.  Sorry, that's really all I can say."

"That's okay," Clyde dismissed, "I wasn't fishin' for a story, promise.  But it'll be good for you to get all that behind you before your wedding.  I suspect you're gonna wanna concentrate on your bride for a good, long while," he predicted, grinning.

"Oh, yeah," Jake agreed, scanning the tavern once again in a vain attempt to locate said bride.

Taking pity on Jake, Clyde directed his attention toward the far end of the upper ring of booths.  "She's sittin' over there," he said, "With your brother and Stanley Richmond—"

"And my cousin," Jake interjected, surprised.  He still couldn't see Heather – or Eric or April for that matter – but Kevin and Janine O'Brien were squished into one side of the last booth in the line, along with Stanley, who leaned momentarily into view before disappearing back into the corner and out of Jake's line of vision.  "That's my cousin and his wife," he explained to Clyde.  "They – they live in Cedar Run."

"Well, like I said, Jim's really gone all out on the advertising," the older man reminded.  "Have a good evening, Jake."

"Thanks, you too," Jake acknowledged, already moving toward his fiancée.

* * * * * *

"Aw, I really like the picture you guys chose," Janine O'Brien told Heather.  She was studying the Lisinski-Green engagement announcement which took up the top third of the back page of The Jericho Record.  "You guys are adorable!"

"Thanks," Heather returned, flashing the other woman an absent smile before glancing not-so-surreptitiously down at her phone.

"Stop," April murmured from beside her.  "He's gonna be here any minute."

"I know," Heather sighed, leaning out of the booth and then glancing over her shoulder.  "Sorry," she apologized as she turned back around a few seconds later.

"Oh no, we totally stole your view of the door," Janine realized, frowning softly.  She and her husband, Kevin – first cousin to Jake and Eric – had arrived at Bailey's Tavern fifteen minutes earlier to find that the place was already packed, and there wasn't a table to be had.  Luckily, Stanley Richmond had spotted them and – after hugging them both – had dragged them back to the booth he was sharing with Heather, April and Eric.  Heather had quickly switched sides, joining April and Eric opposite of Stanley and the O'Briens.  "That's why you were sitting over here, huh?"

"Yeah, but it's okay," Heather assured with a dismissive wave.  An hour before, she had steered Stanley into the other side of the booth knowing that she'd be able to watch the door – watch for Jake – from there, but it had only made sense that she switched to the other side of the booth in order to allow the O'Briens to sit together.   "I'm marrying a man who – technically – works in another state.  So sometimes things are gonna go wrong – just hopefully not too often," she groaned. "But I should probably still get used to it."

"Jake's still gonna work in Denver after you guys get married?" Janine inquired, her surprise clearly evident in her expression.

"Well, the DEA has a district office in Kansas City, and a really small office – they call it something else, a resident office, I think he said – in Wichita but those are both under a different division than Denver," she explained.  According to Jake, the DEA also had a resident office in Buffalo, a fact he had shared while they had been back there three weeks before.  But Heather's response to this news had been to kiss him and then inform him that under no circumstances were they moving to Buffalo.  "Plus, you know, he likes his boss in Denver, so…."

"Well, he's gonna be here any minute," April repeated, "You'll see.   You said parking is a mess out there, right?" she asked Janine, who nodded in agreement.  "See?  He has to find someplace to park, and then he'll be here."

"Still, do you wanna switch?" Janine offered, "I'll switch with you."

"It's really not necessary," Heather returned.

"Jake will find us," April added.  "Or rather, Jake will find Heather," she corrected herself, chuckling.  "And the rest of us will just be here."

"Gotcha," Janine grinned.  "And I really do love this picture," she repeated before gently elbowing her husband in the side to get his attention.  "Isn't this a nice picture?" she demanded, showing him the paper.

"Sure," Kevin agreed, glancing down at the newspaper before turning back to the discussion of the Rams' chances in the upcoming Super Bowl that he was currently embroiled in with Eric and Stanley. 

"Kev!  At least look at the picture for two seconds," Janine ordered.

"Yes dear," he returned drily, reaching for the newspaper.

Glaring, she pulled it back, clutching it to her chest.  "I cannot believe you just 'yes deared' me," Janine grumbled.  "And in front of your family!" she accused.

"You know I didn't really mean it," he cajoled, offering her a lopsided grin that seemed very familiar to both Heather and April.

"His father is always doing this to his mother," Janine told the two women, "And I love my in-laws, but it drives me up the wall," she complained.  "So passive-aggressive."

"Sorry, Jannie," Kevin wheedled. "Okay, lemme see this picture," he requested, leaning toward her.  Sighing, Janine surrendered the paper to her husband, earning herself a quick kiss as well as a "Thank you … dear."

"Uhhh!" she groaned, smacking him lightly on the arm.  "You are such a – a – jerk sometimes," Janine complained, fighting a smile.

"But you love me anyway," Kevin reminded, before finally looking down at the photograph which accompanied the three-hundred word announcement.  "Huh," he said a few seconds later, passing the newspaper back to his wife.  "It's a nice picture.  You look great," he told Heather, "But, wow, I actually didn't know that Jake could smile."

"What are you talking about?" Janine countered, "Jake smiles."

"Yeah, but not if someone's taking a picture," Kevin argued.  "You remember this," he said, looking across the booth at Eric.  "When we were little and someone would make us all line up for a kid group photo, Auntie Bridget would always throw a fit because Jake wouldn't smile."

Eric rolled his eyes.  "Oh yeah.  You know it would've been two minutes – ninety seconds – except Jake wouldn't cooperate.  He thought it was dumb, so he made the rest of us suffer."

"I've seen pictures of Jake, as a child," Heather emphasized, "Smiling." 

"Well, Auntie Bridget usually won," Kevin conceded.

"This is where the kissing as punishment thing came from?" April laughed, "Because Jake wouldn't smile for the camera?"

"Can we please not talk about that?" Stanley grumbled.

April looked intrigued.  "Wait a minute," she demanded, "You've had to kiss Auntie Bridget, too, Stanley?  Why?"

"We've all had to kiss Auntie Bridget at one time or another," Kevin interjected.  "Just on the cheek," he clarified, catching his wife's questioning look.  "And Stanley's an honorary O'Brien – been to enough of our events – so, odds are she'd catch him up to something, especially with Jake, because it was only like ten percent of the time that she busted him over the pictures.  The rest was something else."

"But Bridget made you kiss her?" Janine asked, trying to catch her husband's eye though he was doing a pretty good job of avoiding her gaze.  "Right?  That's what you're sayin', right?" she questioned, glancing quickly at April and then back at Kevin.  "If you were misbehaving, she made you kiss her?  I have never heard this!"

"It was always on the cheek," Eric insisted, prompting vigorous nods from Kevin and Stanley.

"I only found out about it, like, two days ago," April told Janine.  "I'm starting to think it's their secret shame."

"Jake told me about it last weekend," Heather added.  "But I hafta say, he's a lot less scarred by it than these three," she declared with an off-handed wave toward the other end of the booth. 

"You haven't met Auntie Bridget yet, have you?" Janine remembered, grinning at Heather.

"Nope," the younger woman confirmed.  "Because she wasn't at the Christmas party," Heather recalled.  She'd met Kevin, Janine and at least ten other O'Briens at Gail's and Johnston's open house the month before.  "She had to go to her daughter's concert in Kansas City instead.  But I'll meet her tomorrow.  Gail, April and I are going wedding dress shopping."

"Well, that'll be fun," Janine assured.  "I got my wedding dress from her, too.  She really does get a lot of business just from family weddings," she laughed, "But she's wonderful about it, gives you lots of extra attention.  And, since she's actually at the wedding, she can also give you the once over before you walk down the aisle, make sure everything's perfect."

"She saved the day at our wedding when the hem came out on Paul's pants literally three minutes before he was supposed to walk me down the aisle," April informed them.  "She has a whole kit for going to weddings, just pulled out the hem tape and – voila – crisis averted."

"And – I promise – Bridget's a lot more benign than these guys would have you believe," Janine added, cocking her head toward the three men.

"Jake wasn't smiling in any of our wedding pictures," Eric announced suddenly. 

"Seriously, we're back to this?" April groaned, shaking her head at her husband.  "I mean, I don't know what Jake's thing was when you all were kids, but he gets a pass on our wedding.  He was on crutches and heavy-duty pain meds, and he was in pretty bad shape, actually.  But don't worry," she continued, grinning and glancing sideways at Heather.  "He'll be smiling in your wedding pictures, guaranteed."

"Yes, he will," Janine concurred.  "Just like he's smiling in this picture," she proclaimed, pointing at the photograph in The Record, "Because he's with the woman he loves."

"Same reason I'm smiling now," Kevin declared, grinning at his wife.  "Just a different woman."

"Nice save," April complimented as the O'Briens exchanged another chaste kiss.

"Thanks," Kevin acknowledged with a smirk.

"So, did you guys take this picture specifically for the announcement, or was it just a picture you had?" Janine asked, glancing at Heather.

"Oh, it was one we already had," Heather responded.  "And, actually," she giggled softly, "It's a little bit surprising that he was smiling for it.  I cropped it, so you can't see it anymore, but we were standing in front of an airplane, because Jake flew us to Wyoming for lunch, and the picture was taken by the fuel truck guy – I don't know what you're supposed to call him.  But anyway, I'd just taken a picture of Jake right before, and he complained about it, and then the fuel truck guy offered to take another one with both of us in it, and you know, Jake smiled."

"You should see some of the other pictures from that day," April laughed, "Oh, oh my!"

"She's really just talking about one picture," Heather argued, shaking her head.  "Where we're kissing, and it's not a big deal."  She refrained from quoting her brothers on the matter; they had asked after her firsthand knowledge of Jake's fillings and whether or not he still had his tonsils.  "Though it's funny now that we're getting married, but that day, people kept asking if we were newlyweds."

"Then – clearly – you are just meant to be," Janine declared warmly.  She picked up newspaper, quickly checking the text of the announcement.  "July thirteenth," she said, "Okay, I'm putting that on the calendar as soon as we get home.  And is it a kid-friendly wedding, or do I need to find a sitter?"

"Kid-friendly, definitely," Heather assured.  "I mean, I'm a teacher, and I've got three nieces and a nephew, and some of my cousins with kids may come, and trust me, all weddings in my family are very kid-friendly."

Great," Janine acknowledged.  "Kev's mom is our babysitter tonight, but she's gonna wanna be at the wedding, for sure," she smiled.  "I could find a teenager – we've got a few in Cedar Run, older sisters of kids at the school – but Zoey still won't be a year old by then, so I'm not entirely sure I could actually leave her with a teenager for eight to ten hours," she chuckled uneasily.  "I mean, I'm way better about her than I was about Alex—"

"Oh yeah," Kevin confirmed with a vigorous nod.  "That kid's diapers should've been made outta bubble wrap," he joked, pressing a kiss to the side of his wife's head.

"I was a first-time mom," Janine defended herself, shrugging, "What do you expect?  But Zoey's still my baby," she sighed.  "Actually, tonight is the first time I've ever been away from her.  Ever," she repeated, "Since – well, really, in her whole existence."

"Whaddaya mean?" her husband demanded, "You've been away from Zoey.  You went shopping last weekend."

"I went grocery shopping – pretty much so we weren't eating cereal and ice cream sandwiches for dinner – and I was only gone a half hour and she was asleep the entire time.  It doesn't count," Janine argued.  "Because why was I gonna take her out in the cold to run to the market when you were there?"

"I'm just sayin', it's not like you've never been away from her," Kevin countered.

"Well, tonight is definitely the first time I'm spending multiple hours away from her," Janine declared.  "My official return to the land of grown-ups," she giggled. "Which is why you're driving home tonight—"

"You got it, baby," Kevin interjected, winking at her.

"—and I'm having multiple margaritas," Janine continued.  "At least two, maybe three, could conceivably be four, though I suppose I'd hafta pump and dump more than twice, huh?" she inquired, frowning softly and looking to April for confirmation.

"Depends on when you're pumping," April replied, "I assume when you get home, but then—"

"Wait a minute," Stanley interrupted, glancing back and forth between April and Janine, "I thought 'pump and dump' was a stock scheme.  Like, the second-rate stockbroker, workin' in the 'boiler room' calls and convinces the little guy like me to buy in, so the price goes up, then that jerk sells, and the little guy gets screwed."  He glanced around the table and was met with five equally blank, equally polite stares.    "You hafta know what I'm talkin' about," he insisted, frustrated, appealing to Eric.  "You're a lawyer, and – and there was just a movie about this."

"I'm pretty sure they're talking about a different kind of 'pump and dump'," Eric chuckled uneasily.

"We are," April confirmed.  "This is using a breast pump to make sure that a baby doesn't get alcohol through the mother's milk.  So, you 'pump and dump' – throw away – the potentially tainted breast milk to protect the baby."

"Oh," Stanley mumbled, looking down at the table.  "Yeah.  That's definitely different."

 "Well, alcohol in breast milk is pretty much the same as blood alcohol," April explained, returning her attention to Janine.  "But whereas you're legal to drive once you're at a point-oh-eight, you probably don't want to feed Zoey until the alcohol has completely cleared your system."

"Definitely," Janine agreed, nodding.

"Then I'd recommend limiting yourself to two or three drinks, tops," April advised, her lips quirked as she thought through what was ultimately a math problem.  "I mean a hundred-forty pound woman who has –"

"Oh, my goodness!" Janine exclaimed, giggling and grinning at April.  "Bless you!  And Eric," she continued, addressing her husband's cousin, "Thank you for marrying her.  I mean, not only did you add a doctor to the family, but a very complimentary one at that." 

"Hey, my pleasure," Eric smiled, draping his arm around April's shoulder and distracting her long enough to steal a kiss.

"My official, license weight is one forty-five," Janine informed the other woman a moment later, "But trust me, reality is somewhat north of that."

April returned Janine's smile.  "Okay then, a hundred-fifty pound woman?" she suggested.

"Sure, we'll go with that," Janine laughed. 

"So, a hundred-fifty pound woman who has four margaritas probably isn't safe to drive for around seven hours," April calculated, her forehead wrinkling as she considered all of the variables.  Having worked in the emergency room for nearly three years, she'd been called on more than once to evaluate a driver suspected of being intoxicated.  "And then it's another… well, could be two or three hours before all the alcohol would clear her system," she warned.  "Plus, you haven't had any in over a year, right?"

"Year and a half," Janine admitted.  She glanced at her husband, shrugging.  "We were trying.  Which means I was stuck drinking sparkling cider with all the kids for, like, three weddings before your guys'," she complained jokingly.  Janine had been seven months pregnant when she and Kevin – with just turned three years old Alex in tow – had attended the Glendenning-Green wedding the previous June; then Zoey had been born – at the Jericho Medical Center – the last week of August.

"Well, you'll be able to drink all the champagne you want by our wedding, right?" Heather offered cheerfully.

"I can at least do the toast," Janine nodded, smiling.  "Even if I am still nursing, I'll do that much at least."

"So, you're gonna breastfeed for a year?" Heather asked, clearly surprised.  "Sorry, that's nosy," she admitted, "But the longest either of my sisters-in-law went was, like, six months."

"I'm not sure," Janine answered with a shrug.  "I went, I dunno, five months with Alex, but I had to go back to work when he was four months old.  With Zoey I'm on maternity leave 'til August – the next school year – which is not completely by choice, but it is how it is.  And nursing saves money – if you don't think about extra food, and the time, and everything – so for now...." she trailed off, her attention turning toward April, "Anyway, it sounds like I should stick to one – maybe two – margaritas?"

"That would be my advice," the doctor agreed, nodding.  "I mean, you don't know what might've changed biochemically, and you might end up feeling the effects of the alcohol more strongly than you remember.  Even with two drinks, that's still five hours – maybe six, to be absolutely safe – that you're gonna wanna dump.  Plus, when you get home tonight you still need to take care of your kids, right?"

"Oh yeah," Janine replied, making a face.  "Dorothy's spending the night, but that's just because the drive home is so long.  But yeah, that would be embarrassing," she groaned gently, "To be drunk enough in front of my mother-in-law that she had to take care of my kids.  And – just so you know – I was never really gonna have four margaritas," she assured them, glancing around the table.

Kevin pulled his wife into a loose, one-armed, sideways hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head.  "Yeah, I figured that was the mommy hormones/cabin fever talking," he chuckled.

"I'm really not that big of a drinker," Janine announced with a sigh.  "Outside of the one time I got really drunk in college, I don't even think I've ever had four drinks in one night," she admitted.  "And that's definitely in the 'Before Kids' era."  Her eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears which she blinked away furiously, forcing a tremulous smile, her gaze fixed on April and Heather.  "Well, you two will know what I'm talking about soon enough."

"Hopefully," April returned, glancing sideways at her husband and flashing him a quick smile. 

"Yeah," Heather agreed.  "Though in a few years," she qualified a beat later, "For me, anyway.  I mean, I'm only twenty-two."  She looked around the table at the bemused expressions of her companions, coming to the belated realization that they were all at least five years older.  "And a half," she added, with an embarrassed chuckle.  "And even though my brothers were all worried that I'd end up an old maid – or worse, a nun – I personally wasn't planning to worry about any of that for another decade at least."

"And then you met Jake," Janine concluded.

"Right, then I met Jake," Heather echoed, a soft grin creeping onto her lips.  "And getting married seemed like a really great idea," she giggled.  "But still – for us – kids are a few years off."

"So, don't take this the wrong way," Kevin said, catching Heather's eye.  "You either," he joked, throwing his wife a quick look, "But you're way too cute to ever end up an old maid.  Except by choice, of course."

Heather offered Kevin a bright smile, starting to ask him what would be the wrong way for her to take his statement, but then, suddenly, two hands landed on her shoulders and a most familiar voice rumbled  next to her ear.  "So, what if I take that the wrong way, Kev?" Jake demanded, "Because it sure sounded to me like you were flirtin' with my girl."  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head then, murmuring, "Hey, babe."

Valiantly, Heather tried to suppress her surprised – and it wasn't scared, she wouldn't admit to scared, even in her own head, even only to herself – reaction, but she was not entirely successful.  She jumped a little in her seat and a small squeak escaped her before she could stop it.  Still, hoping no one – and by no one, she really meant Jake – had noticed, she tilted her head back, offering him a beatific smile and a clear invitation, which he took her up on, also smiling as he brushed his mouth across hers. 

"I wasn't flirting, Jake," Kevin defended himself, holding his hands up in an 'I surrender' pose.  "I was just stating the obvious," he argued.

"Good point," Jake agreed genially.  He took a half step back so he could hang his garment bag on the post coat hook – already overloaded with Heather's, April's and Eric's winter coats – and then dropped his duffle bag on the floor, kicking it half-heartedly into the baseboard running beneath the bank of booths.  "Because you're right.  She is too cute – too gorgeous, really – and too smart, too fun, too good," he declared.  "Though what she's supposed to not be is a girl you can sneak up on.  Four brothers and all that, she claims she's impervious," Jake informed them all, grinning down at his fiancée.

"That is what you say," Stanley chimed in, "I've heard you."

"I wasn't scared," she argued, her chin jutting defiantly.

Jake grin was now a full-blown smirk, and he reminded, "I never said 'scared', babe.  Just hypothesized that I'd snuck up on un-sneak-up-on-able you."

"Well, it's pretty loud in here, so I guess you did sneak up on me," Heather conceded, sliding out of the booth and spinning around so that she stood facing her fiancé, the two of them toe-to-toe.  "But yay!" she declared, grinning broadly at him. "You're home!"

She stepped into the open, waiting circle of his arms then, wrapping hers around his neck while he wound his around her waist, pulling her against him.  Their lips met for a long, lingering moment, and when she reluctantly broke the seal of their kiss his only response was a husky "Yay, I'm home," all thoughts – and discussion – of whether or not she'd been scared or surprised by his arrival forgotten.  She took a half-step back and he held onto her hand, quickly glancing her up and down.  "You look great," he told her, grinning.

Heather laughed self-consciously.  "Well, I did my best western New York impression of a cowgirl."  She was dressed in a denim skirt paired with a long sleeve shirt in red hues – Jake wasn't sure if the print qualified as plaid or just checked – layered over a scooped t-shirt, the top four buttons left undone.  Her outfit reminded him of the one she'd worn – and he'd quite liked – for their picnic at Bass Lake.  "It seemed appropriate to the evening," she shrugged, "So you know…."

"Hey, I like it," Jake said, squeezing her hand.  "Very thematic," he teased, "Just need to get you some real boots."  Her boots were knee-high, more in the style of English riding boots than western ones.

"What about a hat?" she countered as Mary Bailey – sporting both western boots and a cowboy hat – approached their booth, bearing a tray laden with drinks and appetizers.  "Don't I need one of those?"

But Jake shook his head, much as Heather – knowing that his own preference was for a ball cap over a cowboy hat – had suspected he would.  "Nah, that'd be overkill," he argued.

"Well, if you really want one," Mary interjected, "Dad's still got four or five in his office I'm sure you could borrow from."

"That's okay," Heather assured as Jake tugged on her hand, pulling her back toward him.  He maneuvered them both around, dropping into her seat next to April and then pulling her down so that she sat across his lap.  "But thank you," she giggled, flashing the waitress a quick smile.

"So, this seems like a long-term solution to you?" April inquired, throwing her brother-in-law a skeptical look.

Heather tilted her head back, catching her friend's eye.  "Sorry," she apologized.

"Well, it's our fault," Janine interjected, sighing.  "We really weren't expecting it to be this packed, and then we crowded in here with you guys."

"Yeah," Mary smiled, "I've actually never seen it this full in here before, so it's good you got here, Jake.  I can tell the guy at the door to start limiting admission, because – and, close your vice mayor ears for this part, Eric – we are super close to hitting maximum occupancy for the building."

"You do realize that I'm on the fire department, too?" Eric returned, frowning.  "Maximum occupancy figures are set for public safety, they're not—"

April leaned toward her husband.  "How 'bout you close your firefighter's ears now, too?" she suggested sweetly.  "Because half the fire department is here tonight, so you guys'll keep us safe, and besides Mary's gonna go talk to the guy at the door."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, his frown morphing into a smile when April kissed him.

"Okay," she began a moment later, turning back toward their waitress.  "Tonight is Janine's first post-partum night out," April announced, pointing across the booth at her, "So please, give this woman her margarita."

"Oh, absolutely," Mary agreed, presenting the drink to Janine with a flourish.  "Congratulations!  Boy or girl?"

"Thanks," Janine smiled, "And girl.  Zoey.  She'll be five months old on Monday, actually."

"Your first?" Mary inquired, placing drinks in front of Heather and then April. 

"Second," Janine corrected, "We have a little boy, too.  Alex.  Three and a half."

"So tonight's 'date night'?" Jake asked, surprising his fiancée, who twisted her head around and shot him an inquisitive look.  "What?  I'm tryin' to get up to speed on my married people lingo," he told her, his tone teasing.  "That okay?"

"Okay by me," Heather assured him, grinning and brushing her lips across his.

"Heather, just be glad that the married phrase Jake wants to get down first is 'date night' and not 'honey, what's for dinner?'" Janine chuckled.  She caught her cousin-in-law's eye, telling him approvingly, "You're starting in the right place."

"Well, I try, Janine," Jake returned, winking at her.  "I try."

"Now I'm gonna tell you to stop flirtin' with my wife," Kevin said, feigning annoyance.  "But you're right, this is 'date night'," he confirmed, passing a bottle of beer to Stanley before accepting his own from Mary.  "Right, honey?" he asked, leaning into his wife.

Janine smiled at him.  "At least you didn't 'yes dear' me," she noted. "And, I give you tons of 'date night' credit for this one.  All the credit you want.  Even if you didn't exactly come up with it all on your own."

"Yeah, well," Kevin shrugged, draping his arm around her shoulders.  "I actually knew this shindig was going on – there're flyers all over the shops in Cedar Run –"

"Oh good," Mary beamed, placing baskets of potato skins and Buffalo wings, followed by a plate of loaded nachos, in the center of the table.  "You saw those!"

"At the coffee shop, grocery store, hardware store, even the gas station," he catalogued.  "But it wasn't 'til Mom called me at work yesterday morning and told me that you guys—" he looked at Jake and then at Stanley "—were gonna be here, kicking things off, and then offered her babysitting services, that I put it all together."

"That's when he called me," Janine explained, picking up the story from her husband, "And went through this whole hemming and hawing routine, said that if I didn't already have plans, did I – maybe – want to go with him to Bailey's in Jericho?  It was so formal and cute," she grinned, "As if he isn't painfully aware that my usual Friday night routine consists of laundry and watching America's Funniest Home Videos with Alex.  Really," she sighed, catching her husband's eye.  "You could've had me with the promise of dinner at Sonic and an action movie.  But this is way better."

"You definitely made the right choice," Mary declared as the O'Briens exchanged a quick kiss.  "So, Jake," she continued, tucking her tray under her arm, "What can I get you?"

"Cheeseburger?" he requested immediately.  "And somethin' not brewed in the state of Colorado," he grumbled, glancing across the table at his cousin.  "What are you drinking?" Jake demanded.

Kevin showed him the label on his bottle.  "You know it?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, surprise evident in his voice.  It was a California craft beer that he was familiar with from the two years he'd been posted there with the DEA.  "I've been to the brewery, actually," he told them.  "We had this major bust up in the Trinity National Forest – middle of nowhere – and we had to stay in this podunk town fifty miles away.  Ten days.  Took every room in their one motel, drained the one gas station dry, cleaned out the diner and the grocery," he described.  "But the brewery was just across the highway from the motel and they had a bar/restaurant, so every night we all ended up there until they kicked us out." 

It had been his first multi-day field assignment, a reward for having been the pilot who'd flown the plane that had detected the illicit grow in the first place.  And it had given Jake a taste for field operations.  He loved to fly, but being on the ground – investigating and enforcing the law – that had been a different kind of exhilaration, and just as addictive.  "It's really small," Jake explained, "The brewery.  And I've never seen their beer anywhere else, so I sure didn't expect to see it halfway across the country, in Bailey's."

"I got Dad to let me go through our distributor's entire catalog a few months back," Mary said, "We're trying a few new additions out."

"Well, lemme have one of those," Jake requested pointing to the bottle in his cousin's hand. 

"You got it," Mary acknowledged before hurrying away.

"Why'd it take ten days?" Kevin inquired, "Your bust?  Don't you just go in and arrest the bad guys?  So, then what?"

"The bad guys all got arrested on day one," Jake confirmed with a shrug.  "Well, I think that was the time this other team caught this teenager – undocumented, basically a farmhand – on day three or four, but he was hungry and scared – so not much of a threat – and it was a pretty easy take down," he amended, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the details of the operation.  "But the crime scene, so to speak, was spread out over a couple thousand acres of what's pretty rugged, backcountry, virgin forest.  So, we were in there for a week just cuttin' down plants, sendin' them out to be destroyed. And we had to locate and disarm all the booby traps.  The drug gangs go where they think they won't be disturbed," Jake explained, "But they still take precautions, and we hafta make sure that we clear everything out so some hunter or backpacker doesn't get injured or killed two years down the line, you know?"

"Wow," Kevin muttered, giving voice to what the rest of their group were all thinking.  He shook his head.  "Do you know what I do at work?"  The question was rhetorical.  "You know how when you call into some call center somewhere and they say 'this call may be recorded for quality assurance purposes'?  Well, right now, I'm the guy who listens to all the calls for quality assurance purposes and then has to write up the customer service reps for their inappropriate phone demeanor."

Jake groaned sympathetically.  "Your paperwork sounds worse than mine.  And that's the part I left out.  The paperwork's what took the other three days."

"You wanna talk about paperwork overload?" Janine interjected, nodding at Heather.  "Try being a teacher."

"Or a doctor," April chimed in.

"I've got paperwork comin' out my ears," Eric claimed.  "Actually, of all of us, I bet Stanley, you get to do the least amount of paperwork."

Stanley shook his head.  "Doubt it.  Farming's just running a small business.  You gotta deal with the bank and the government and the producers' association and the purchasing agents…."

"Well, that's depressing," Eric grumbled.

"Yeah," April sighed.  "So, I'm changing the subject.  And proposing a toast," she declared, lifting her glass into the air.  She paused a beat and then, smiling, proclaimed, "To Janine!  And to her return to the land of grown-ups!"

"No matter how brief it may be," the woman in question added as her companions all raised their bottles and glasses – Jake borrowing Heather's water glass for the moment – to salute her. 

"To Janine!" they all declared in unison, and Kevin, after pressing a kiss to the back of his wife's head, mouthed 'thank you' to April.

Heather set her glass back down on the table only to have her fiancé immediately pick it up and begin an inspection of its contents.  "So, Miss Lisinski, what exactly are you drinking here?" Jake demanded as he sniffed the concoction, and then raised an eyebrow.  "Interesting…."

Grinning, she wrapped both arms around his neck.  "There's a special drink menu for tonight," she informed him, giggling softly.  "So, I'm having a special drink, a Bull Rider.  Partly in your honor, but really it just sounded good.  I mean, I didn't even know that crème de bananes was a thing until tonight.  And it has Kahlua and coconut rum – half and half, too.  And something else I can't remember.  It's like a yummy milkshake. Try it," she urged.

"Jagermeister," Stanley announced from the opposite corner of the booth, waving around the acrylic T-frame holder in which the Bailey's specials were always advertised.

Jake took a sip of her drink, letting the liquid sit in his mouth for a long moment before he swallowed.  It was too sweet and too creamy for his taste – and in a way that he suspected masked a lot of the alcohol.  He wasn't sure Heather was really ready for this drink, not because she was necessarily a lightweight, but just because by her own admission, she wasn't a big drinker.  She was, however, waiting for his reaction, her expression expectant.  "Whoa," he said, coughing softly before brushing his lips across hers.  "Not really my kinda drink, but I can see why you like it…Kahlua with cream, that's right up your alley," Jake teased, kissing her again.

"And bananas and coconut," Heather reminded, still grinning.  "I'm not sure what any of that has to do with bull riding, but I like it," she laughed.

Jake laughed too, promising, "I'll explain it later.  But, uh… I think your Bull Rider goes down kinda smooth, so you know, maybe, take it slow to start, babe?" he advised quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

It took her a moment, but Jake could see in her face when comprehension hit.  "Right," she nodded sharply, once, allowing a nervous giggle.  "Right," she repeated, "Good thinkin'."

"Hey, you're with friends here," he reminded, offering her a gentle smile.  "We're not gonna let anything happen."  Certainly, he wouldn't let anything happen, wouldn't let her be embarrassed or end up in a situation that could cause her any trouble, especially of the PTA/school board variety. 

Her hand found its way into his hair momentarily as she pulled him to her for another kiss.  "Thank you," she murmured against his mouth.

"So, Stanley," Jake said a long moment later, interrupting his friend's debate with his brother – the topic was anyone's guess – "What else's on that special menu?" he demanded.

"Well, for sure what you don't wanna get is the Bull Shot," Stanley decided, making a face.  "All you need to know about that one is it involves beef bouillon and orange juice."  He shook his head. "I don't care how much vodka is involved, you're not gonna get me to drink that.  But now, Bull's Milk sounds pretty good," he determined with his next breath.  "I mean if you're a girl and like frou-frou drinks," he backpedaled.  "But you know, it's got nutmeg."

"Okay," Jake acknowledged with a chuckle.  "So, what are you drinking tonight?" he inquired, leaning – and forcing Heather to lean – toward April.

"Cowgirl Lemonade," his sister-in-law returned, shifting toward Eric who wrapped one arm around her, more than willing to take advantage of the overcrowding situation in their half of the booth.  "It's good, I just wish I'd gone for the Cowboy Cocoa, at least that's hot."

"I'll warm you, doc," Eric suggested with a grin that grew wider as his wife immediately took him up on the offer, snuggling into his side.

"And Janine?" Jake asked, continuing his poll.  "That just looks like a regular margarita," he complained.

"This is my first drink in – like – eighteen months," she informed him, "So, yeah.  It's a good ol', regular margarita.  I wanted to know I'd enjoy it."

"Right," Jake acknowledged, teasing, "You guys have been busy reproducing."

"Well, I'm pretty sure we're all done with that," Janine sighed, sharing a quick look with her husband.  "Probably we're all done with that," she corrected herself.  "But don't worry, your time is coming," she threatened lightly, pointing at him.  "All of you, actually," she added, aiming her finger across the booth and at each of them in turn.  "Though, we already know that Heather says it'll be a few years, so I guess April and Eric, you're up next."

"Yeah, apparently Jake says we should have first crack at that," April snorted softly.  "But once my residency is finished, and we take a good, long vacation, and then I get settled into my practice…." She trailed off, letting a smile and a shrug fill in the conclusion to that statement.

"Hey, we've got a plan, too," Jake announced then surprising them all.  "I mean, I'm marrying a teacher, they're pretty good planners, right Janine?" he teased.

"Right!" she giggled, grinning.

"So, are you gonna tell them what our plan is?" Heather challenged her fiancé, brushing a kiss across his mouth.

"Sure," he agreed, their eyes locking for a moment.  She offered him an encouraging smile, and then he addressed his family.  "It's like the song says, 'first comes love, then comes marriage—'"

"—then comes Jake with the baby carriage!" Stanley sang enthusiastically.

Jake rolled his eyes.  "I was gonna say, 'then comes Heather with a Masters of Educational Administration'," he informed his friend.

"Some time after which, Jake can get his baby carriage," Heather added with a gentle smile.

"My baby carriage?" her fiancé repeated, eyebrows raised, his tone skeptical.  "How 'bout our baby carriage?" he proposed.

Heather kissed him again.  "Okay, that does sound better," she agreed.

"So, you're planning to go into administration?" Janine asked, once the young couple had tuned back into the larger conversation.

"Trust me, that's not set in stone," Heather countered immediately.  "I don't even know when I'll be starting the program yet," she explained, "And I'm definitely not sure about my concentration.  I mean, there isn't anyone at Jericho Elementary who specializes in science curriculum, and that's right up my alley.  So, I dunno," she shrugged, "We'll see."

"Well, Mrs. McVee is totally planning a velvet revolution," Jake contended, enfolding his fiancée in a loose embrace.  "She wants you all in place, ready to take over for her when she's ready to retire."

"Yeah," April concurred, "You get your Master's – in Educational Administration – and she can name you her vice principal, then when she does decide to call it quits the superintendent and school board are not gonna feel an overwhelming urge to look far and wide for the next principal.  I know how this works," she reminded.  "They have to advertise, and they have to especially consider all internal candidates, but Mrs. McVeigh's endorsement will carry a lot of weight."

"But Scott Rennie has a Master's in Educational Administration," Heather argued, "And, we're friends."

"You can be friends," April dismissed with a wave of her hand.  "But Mrs. McVeigh never got around to making him vice principal, now did she?  Besides, if you think he'd be good at it, then when you're principal, you can appoint him."

"You should do it," Janine encouraged, "Though I say that for totally selfish reasons.  One day they may close my little school, and then I'm gonna want onto the Jericho substitute list," she explained, taking a sip of her margarita.  "I'd like to have an 'in' – well, assuming I have an 'in'," she laughed over the rim of her glass.

"If I'm ever in a position where I have a say over the sub list, you definitely have an 'in'," Heather sighed, "Promise."

"Thanks."

"I vote Educational Administration, too, babe," Jake said, lacing their fingers together.  "And not just because it'll drive Eric crazy."  He threw his brother a knowing smirk before returning his attention to his fiancée.  "I mean, if my going to the Elementary staff Christmas party was a sign of the apocalypse, I dunno what my being married to the school principal would be," he teased.

"Pretty much the end of the world as we know it," Eric snorted.  "But you should still go for it, Heth."

Heather leaned back, tilting her head so she could catch his gaze, albeit upside down.  "Thanks, Eric," she grinned.  "And that's totally your karaoke song," she decided, singing, "It's the end of the world as we know it—" Eric joining in on the next line, "—and I feel fine!"

"Karaoke?" Jake questioned, glancing between his brother and future wife, "Really?"

"Don't worry," April chuckled, "Jim said that karaoke will only come to Bailey's – and I quote – over his dead body."

Jake acknowledged this with a nod.  “Good.”

"Hey, you said you like it when I sing," his fiancée reminded, frowning at him.

"I do like it when you sing," he confirmed, "But you can just sing, you don't hafta go to a karaoke bar for that.  But, hey, if you wanna...."

"Well, I don't want to do it, if you're not gonna have fun," Heather argued.

"I'll have fun watching you have fun," Jake countered.

"Yeah," April interjected.  "You and Eric can be karaoke buddies, and Jake and I will cheer you on from the audience."

"Yep," Jake agreed, flashing his sister-in-law a grin, "We'll clap and cheer … and drink."

"Oh, yeah.  There will definitely be drinking," April chuckled, taking a sip of her Cowgirl Lemonade to illustrate her point. 

"Fine," Heather returned, her skepticism written across her expression.  "But now I'm totally gonna find somewhere that has karaoke, and that's what we're doing for our next double date," she informed them.

"The bowling alley bar in Fielding," Janine supplied.  "Strikes.  Every other Friday night they have karaoke."

Heather grinned at the other woman, proclaiming "Perfect!  Jake says he hates bowling.  We are so doing this."

"Hey," Jake protested, "What happened to you don't wanna do it if I'm not having fun?"

"It got replaced by 'if I'm having fun, you're having fun'," Heather reminded, puckering her lips expectantly.  He brushed a kiss across her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.  "But you don't have to bowl."

Jake shrugged.  "We can bowl if you want," he muttered, earning himself a bright smile.

"Well, in the spring, you all should come visit us in Cedar Run and we can play mini-golf," Janine suggested.  "That's our one amenity besides apple fritters," she laughed.

"Those fritters are good," Stanley groaned happily, reaching for a potato skin. 

"So at least Stanley will come," Janine grinned.  "And you should bring Bonnie and/or a date.  Though really, bring Bonnie – Alex absolutely loves her."

"We'll come, too," Eric offered, taking a swig of his beer and exchanging a confirmatory look with his wife.

"Yeah, putt-putt is way more my speed," April added, explaining, "Though Eric keeps insisting that I get actual golf lessons."  Janine and Heather groaned sympathetically.

"You're a doctor.  You need to know how to golf so you can take full advantage of all the Palm Springs medical conferences you're gonna take me to," Eric teased.

"I'm pretty sure the kind of medical conferences I'll be attending aren't gonna be in Palm Springs," April sighed, "More like Kansas City or Omaha – maybe Minneapolis if they're really trying to mix things up."

"They've got golf courses in those places too, doc," Eric assured, leaning toward her for a kiss.

"I'm guessing you can count us in, too," Jake said, catching his fiancée's eye.  "Right?"

"Right!" Heather chirped, giggling, "For the mini-golf, not the medical conferences."

"So, Kev, you riding tonight?" Jake asked, glancing across the booth at his cousin.  "I mean, that's what this is all about," he reminded, gesturing to the tavern at large, "Right?"

"Hadn't really thought about it one way or the other," Kevin hedged, rolling his beer bottle between his hands. 

"Oh, you should," his wife opined, squeezing his arm.

Kevin shot her a surprised look. "Really?" he questioned, his tone suspicious.  "Why?  Because you want to see me humiliate myself, or because—"

"I do not want to see you humiliate yourself," Janine interrupted, emitting a put-upon noise.  "I think you'll have fun, and I think I'll be wildly impressed," she claimed, offering him a broad smile.  "And – for the record, particularly the record with your family – I generally don't go around hoping you humiliate yourself."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes!" she insisted, shaking her head at him.  "You can humiliate yourself enough all on your own without me wishing for it," Janine huffed.  "You should just count yourself lucky that I witnessed your departure for the junior prom and was still willing to marry you ten years later."

"Okay, now you hafta tell us about the junior prom," April grinned.

"My date—"

"Brandy Whipple," Janine supplied helpfully.  "That was her name, Brandy Whipple," she repeated.

"Brandy Whipple?  I'm pretty sure that's the name of a drink on this menu," Stanley joked, making a show of checking the front and then the back of the drink menu for said item.  Everyone – Kevin included – laughed.

"She's the first person I thought of when I got to KU and the RA in my dorm summed up the anti-hazing policy as 'No branding, no whipping'," Janine confessed.  "Kinda fitting, really, given how she tortured poor Kev."

"And?" Jake prompted.  "We're gonna need more than that."

"C'mon, hon," Janine cajoled.

"Fine," Kevin said, heaving a sigh.  "The thing about Brandy was, she was one of those girls where everything had to be exactly her way, but not in a good way," he explained, garnering understanding nods from his cousins and Stanley.  "And her prom dress was orange—"

"Very, very, very orange," his wife confirmed.

"—and she wanted me to get an orange cummerbund, to match," he continued, "Which is easier said than done.  Auntie Bridget only had one in her entire catalog, and it had this cartoon spider and cobweb embroidered across the front of it."  Everyone groaned.  "Well, I told Brandy about it, because I really didn't want to wear that," Kevin sighed, "But she really didn't care what I wanted, said I had to wear it or she wasn't gonna go with me."

"So, he wore it," Janine declared flatly.  "And, I love you, Kev," she assured, flashing him a sympathetic smile, "But you were not quite cool enough at sixteen to pull that off."

"You should've called her bluff," Eric argued.  "You pick her up for the prom and you're not wearing it – what's she gonna do?  Not go?"

"How come you didn't go to the prom with him, Janine?" Heather asked, clearly curious. 

"Probably because he didn't ask," April suggested, throwing her husband a pointed look.  It was an old joke between them; April had attended the junior prom with Stanley – the first and only boy to ask her – while Eric had taken the girl next door, Wendy Thom.

"Face it, April," Stanley said, "You had a way better time goin' to the prom with me than you would've if you'd gone with him."  There was a large dose of swagger in his tone.  "'Cause everyone knows there's the guys you marry, and then there's the guys—"

"We definitely had a very good time," April agreed, cutting him off, "And we have also decided that we don't talk about it," she reminded, cocking her head at her husband.

"Exactly," Eric grumbled, "Discussion of the junior prom is off-limits.  Waaay off-limits," he emphasized.

"Wow," Janine murmured, fighting to keep her smile under control – and to not ask any questions, though she was obviously dying to do so.  "Okay.  Well, you're right, Kev did not ask me to his junior prom," she confirmed, nodding at April.  "But that's … really okay with me, since I was in the eighth grade at the time.   Well – and, you know – thirteen," she added a beat later. 

"Oh, yeah," April responded, making a face.  "That would not have been good.  And, I did not remember your age difference, I thought it was like a year and a half, maybe."

"Three and a half years," Janine clarified, reaching for a nacho.

"See, Heather, there's hope for you yet," April declared, "Five, ten years from now, Janine will be like: 'You're younger than Jake?  I didn't realize.'"

"I don't mind that people know that I'm younger than Jake, that's fine," Heather returned, earning her chuckles all around, and a 'Gee, thanks, babe,' from her fiancé.  "I just wish everyone would stop accusing him of robbing the cradle.  That, and carding me for alcohol," she groaned.

"Jake isn't robbing the cradle," Janine scoffed.  "As anyone who's ever taken a course on Human Development knows," she continued, raising her hand – quickly joined by Heather, April, and Eric – "Girls-slash-women mature ahead of boys-slash-men.  But it's all on a spectrum, and some people who are the same age," she said, pointing at April and Eric, "Also have the same maturity level, and some are more compatible with others in an age range. And once you've both passed your mid-twenties—"

"Or early twenties," April interjected. 

"Right, even your early twenties," Janine agreed, "I mean you're a professional, adult woman.  So, you're what? Four years younger than Jake?"

"Five," Heather mumbled.

"Well, still.  Just get married, live your life, and trust me, the more time goes by, the less anyone will care," Janine assured Heather.  "I mean, a fifteen year old with a twenty year old is just icky—"

"And illegal," Eric interjected

"Yeah, gross and illegal," Janine acknowledged.  But Jake," she said, catching her cousin-in-law's gaze, "You're like four, five months younger than me, right?  So, twenty-eight and twenty-three.  Or almost," she added, remembering Heather's earlier declaration.  "But who cares? We got married when I was twenty-three," she argued, reaching for her husband's hand to confirm the 'we' in question. "No big deal.  And, soon you guys will be twenty-five and thirty, and then really, who cares?"

"Thank you," Heather sighed heavily with relief.  "Exactly."

"Yup," Jake agreed, pressing a kiss to Heather's cheek. "And, you know, you probably are more mature than me." 

"We both know that's not true," his fiancée muttered, but Jake wasn't having it.

"Hey, you're the one who brought up retirement.  I am not kidding," he told the others.  "We were on our first date," he continued, glancing back and forth between Janine and April, "And she felt the need to talk about our retirement plans.  Way more mature."

"And, I wonder what you were up to that would cause that?" April snorted. 

"That's totally need to know," Jake returned smoothly, "And you don't need to know," he assured his sister-in-law, earning him another snort and an eyeroll.

Heather's blush was spreading down her neck and to the part of her chest visible above the neckline of her scooped t-shirt, prompting Janine to take pity on her.  "Now – because this just tickled my brain," she started, "Word of warning – I am pretty sure that Auntie Bridget is a year older than Uncle Wayne.  So just – I guess – be aware for tomorrow," she advised.

"You're right," Eric interjected.  "Uncle Donnie's the baby of that generation, and he's probably two years younger than Auntie Bridget.  And, Mom always says she remembers Uncle Wayne's birthday because it's a year and a day before Donald's, right before Christmas."

Jake could see Heather's blush quickly fading during his brother's explanation, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  He made a mental note – one that he acknowledged he'd probably never follow through on – to thank Eric later.  Certainly, this was the best way to distract his intended: provide details about Green – or in this case, O'Brien – family history.  "You get all that, babe?" he teased, pressing a kiss to her fully clothed shoulder. 

"I'll ask your mom later," she chuckled, arching her neck in an invitation that it took every bit of his willpower to resist.  Some things would just have to wait.

 "So, how was it that you were able to able to observe Kevin leaving for the prom if you were only thirteen, and weren't going yourself?" April asked Janine then.

"Because I've been best friends with Kendra since the second grade," Janine returned with a shrug.  "My mom and I moved to Rogue River because she was supposed to help set up the regional 9-1-1 call center – training and stuff.  It was her specialty – her niche – especially after my dad split. I went to Kindergarten in Sheboygan, and first grade in Tucson," Janine explained, "But my Uncle Bob and Aunt Helen live in Fielding, and they were sending her to Alaska next, so when the county offered her a permanent job, she took it.  And, they made her a supervisor for the weekend swing shift, which only worked because Dorothy gave me a standing invitation to sleep over."  Janine shot her husband a rueful grin.  "So that meant, when Kev went to the prom, he had quite the audience of little girls to see him off," she laughed.

"Seriously, so many little girls," Kevin confirmed, "Every weekend of my life, junior high and high school.  Jannie, Kendra, Kristy and her friend, what's her name –"

"Bibi, back then," Janine supplied, "But Bethany now – her baby brother mangled Bethany into Bibi, and that's just what we all called her."  She flashed her husband a suspicious look.  "You do realize that Bibi and Kristy's friend Bethany – they're both on a Caribbean cruise, right now," she explained to the rest of the table, "Are the same person, right?"

Jake almost made a crack then about Kristy – his little cousin – off partying on some Jolly Roger excursion when it occurred to him that Kristy was probably a year or two older than Heather. 

"Well, that makes sense when you think about it," Kevin admitted, throwing his wife a sheepish look.

"And everyone always wonders why Kristy says no one in this family pays attention to her," Janine sighed, shaking her head at her husband.  "I guess when I finally ran into you again, I should be glad that you remembered who I was."

"Well, you and I had actual conversations back then," he argued.  "I never talked to Bibi – Bethany.  She just giggled a lot, and ran away if Dad or I said 'boo' to her.  But yeah," he continued, turning his attention back to his cousins and their significant others.  "All those girls at the house, and Mom still made me pick Brandy up and bring her back to the house so she could take pictures."

"And, we all came down to see," Janine said, picking up the story, "And Bethany told Brandy she looked like a pumpkin – which she kind of did – and we all caught the giggle fits, and I am sure ruined Kev's evening.  Sorry about that."

"No, you're not," Kevin countered, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  "But, yeah, she was pretty pissed, and we never went out again after that."

"So, when – and how – did you two finally get together?" Heather demanded.

"Well, it was years later," Janine answered, "Like – really – years later.  And only after we hadn't seen each other for five, six years."  She paused to take a breath, her lips twisting with consternation.  "See, my mom died when I was fifteen—"

"Oh, my goodness!" Heather gasped, "I – I'm – I'm so sorry.  That's – my mom just died last May, but I—"

"I know," Janine interrupted, offering the younger woman a wan smile.  "I liked how you just came out and said it in your engagement announcement.  Only there wasn't a way to tell you that earlier that didn't sound weird," she admitted with a nervous chuckle. 

"Thanks," Heather murmured.  It had been the hardest part of the announcement to write and she'd edited it out three times, but Jake had told her to put it back in each time.  Finally, she'd – they'd – settled on the absence of Heather's mother, who passed away last year, is keenly felt in this joyous season.  "And, I do miss her," she sighed.  "But on the other hand, if she hadn't died, I probably wouldn't have moved to Kansas, and I wouldn't have met Jake, we wouldn't be getting married, so then there'd be no engagement announcement to even write." 

"Well, I'm not happy that your mom died, but I am happy about the rest of it," her fiancé informed her, kissing the side of her head.  "Especially the getting married part," Jake added, his warm breath on her skin inducing a small shiver within her.

"Me too," Heather returned immediately.  "It's like the butterfly effect, or a temporal loop on Star Trek.  You can't change one thing without changing everything."

"Where's Captain Picard when you need him, huh?" Stanley joked, flashing her a small grin.

"Right," Heather agreed with a quick nod. "Though I don't think even Captain Picard could unravel this one, so – as almost all science and speculative fiction teaches us to do – I'm gonna stick with the timeline I'm in.  A timeline in which at least I get a pretty great mother-in-law," she reminded, resting her head against Jake's.  "And April," she added, glancing at her friend, "An awesome sister-in-law."

"Thank you, same to you," April grinned. 

"As did I," Janine offered, tucking her arm through her husband's.  "An amazing mother-in-law, plus two great sisters-in-law.  And sure, I was pretty much already a member of the family, but I'm still very glad we made it official."

Kevin brushed a kiss across her lips.  "You better be," he teased.

"You're s'posed to be telling us how that happened," Jake reminded.  "How exactly did Kev trick you into marrying him, Janine?" he questioned, affecting a serious, investigatory tone.

"Gee, thanks, Jake," his cousin drawled.

"Yes, thank you," Janine giggled.  "And like I said, we hadn't seen each other in years."  She took a deep breath.  "Okay, so after my mom died, I moved to Fielding to live with my aunt and uncle.  Well – actually – I lived with the O'Briens for about six weeks so I could finish out the school year, then I moved to Fielding," she corrected herself.  "Kendra and I were still really good friends, we stayed in touch, and I'd visit the O'Briens a couple of times a year, but Kev was always off at school.  Even when I got to KU, we overlapped for a year and a half, but I never saw him."

"That was Kendra," Kevin claimed.

"I don't think Kendra purposely kept us from meeting," Janine contradicted.

"I saw her practically every day, she never once mentioned that you were in Lawrence," he argued, "I only knew that when Mom mentioned it over Christmas break."

"And what did you do with that knowledge?" his wife questioned rhetorically.  "Absolutely nothing.  And neither did I," Janine admitted with a shrug, "But I just figured we'd run into each other at some point, and I'd be glad to see you, and you'd be nice to me, and that would be it.  Kinda like on my third day of high school when I was feeling totally geeky as I stood outside my Geometry classroom, waiting for the teacher to show up, completely ignored by the three junior class cheerleaders standing right next to me, until Kev walked by and said 'What's the haps, Jannie?'  Suddenly I was worth acknowledging," she laughed.

"Aww!" Heather and April said in unison.

While Eric repeated dubiously, "'What's the haps?'  Really?"

"Please.  You totally would've said 'what's the haps' back in high school, Eric," Jake informed his brother, earning a set of confirmatory nods from April and Stanley.

"All I know is, I never had a crush on Kevin back when I was a kid.  He really was just my best friend's big brother.  But that week… that week, I was a little bit in love with him," Janine smiled.  "Which Kendra told me was gross."

"See?" Kevin grumbled, reaching for his beer.  "I told you it was her fault we never met up back then."

"Then it's also her fault that we got together," Janine reasoned.

"Which was…?" Heather prompted.

"After I got back from my semester abroad," Janine declared.

"Ooh!  Where'd you go?" April demanded, immediately confessing, "I have major study abroad envy.  I did my undergrad degree in three years – AP credits, summer school, plus I knew I had four years of med school and three years of residency ahead of me, and I just wanted to save some time, get to have a real life just that much sooner.…"  She shrugged.  "So, the one thing I didn't get to do was go JYA."

"You're KU, too, right?" Janine asked, "What year did you graduate?"

"Ninety-five undergrad," April answered, "And then again in ninety-nine from the med school."

"I graduated in ninety-five," Janine grinned.  "And I know it's a big school, but that's so funny that we were in the same class and we never met."

"It really is," Stanley confirmed.  "Because, I ran into all three of you at KU, and I was only there for a semester and a half.  Though, you might not remember that, Janine."

"No, I totally remember that," she countered.

"Wait," Kevin said, glancing between his wife and the Stanley, "You two knew each other at KU?"

"We knew each other from before KU," Janine corrected, "Because – you know – Kendra." 

Kevin nodded.  "Right."  His sister was the proverbial social butterfly, and she and Brian – a high school and college football star, and her husband of five years – had been together since before their parents had actually allowed them to date.  In high school, Kendra had followed Brian from game to game, all over then northwestern part of the state, his biggest cheerleader.  And then she'd followed him to the University of Kansas.

"She dragged me to a football party on Homecoming Weekend, our sophomore year," Janine explained.  "And it was nice to run into a familiar face." 

Stanley acknowledged this with a nod and a slight grin, prompting Jake to ask, "So Stan, have you made out with every woman at this table?"

Heather smacked her fiancé's arm, "We didn't make out!"

It took April longer – mostly because she was trying to avoid accidentally hitting Heather – but in the end, she socked Jake in the shoulder, punctuating her friend's claim with a rather noncommittal "So there!"

In turn, Janine plowed ahead.  "Well, to answer your question," she said, catching April's eye, "I went to Costa Rica."

"Nice," April returned, before once again shooting a glare in her brother-in-law's direction.

"And, you're just not gonna answer the other question on the table?" Kevin inquired of his wife, smirking.

Fighting a laugh, Janine shook her head 'no', then picked up her Margarita glass and finished the drink off.  "Anyway," she exhaled, a moment later, "When I got back from Costa Rica, Kendra needed a roommate – particularly one who didn't mind that Brian was the unofficial third roommate, which is why her other roommate had moved out – and I needed a place to live, so it worked out.  And then," she sighed relaxing back into her husband's embrace, "The second week I was living there, I go to answer the door on Friday night, and who's standing there but Kevin O'Brien."

"And, I'm standin' there thinkin' 'Wow, Janine Curtis grew up,'" Kevin offered, "Because I don't think I changed that much between nineteen and twenty-four, but wow, fifteen year old Janine was a nice kid I'd known forever, but grown up Janine…."

His wife seemed equal parts embarrassed and pleased by his pronouncement, though she did muster enough energy to protest, "Oh, you had changed, too, Kev.  Trust me."

"Well, I think you're both right," April announced then.  "Kendra was keeping you apart, long enough to implement her plan to get you back together when the moment was right."

"That's playin' the long game for sure," Eric laughed, reaching for a chicken wing.

Kevin shook his head.  "Well, I wouldn't put it past her."

"I am so sorry, tonight is just crazy," Mary Bailey declared, still five feet from their booth, balancing a large tray.  "Ack," she complained, glaring at Jake's duffel bag.  "Seriously, you can't leave that there forever, Jake, you're gonna make me – or someone who'll sue us – break my neck."  Still, she off-loaded his beer and burger, then took second drink orders from the table, before reminding Jake, "Can you take care of this, please?  Or, Eric, cite him for me?" she requested, before hurrying three booths down to drop off the rest of her tray.

"It is kinda dangerous, Jake," his brother reminded him, as Heather slipped off his lap to stand in the aisle. 

"Fine, I need to change anyway," Jake conceded, taking a quick bite of his burger and then a swig of his beer.  He stood up and pulled his garment bag from its hook, and then picked up his duffel.  Heather moved to squeeze past him, and he stole a quick kiss, promising, "I'll be right back."

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

Monday January 22, four months after the bombs

"Well, is the baby okay?" Eric demanded, following his brother and Michael down the hallway.

They had hustled him into the men's locker room and shoved scrubs at him, ignoring all his offers to donate blood for April.  Jake, urging him to change clothes, had outlined the basics of what had happened over the preceding six or seven hours, with Michael pitching in medical terms that had just confused Eric more.  He understood the administrative side of the Jericho Medical Center, but even after nearly a decade spent in April's orbit – as a medical student, a resident, and a fully-fledged doctor – his medical understanding had never progressed much beyond what he'd retained from his Bio 101 course and the ability to render first aid when necessary.

"I don't know, all right?" Jake's tone was cautious, almost gentle, but it was belied by the tension that was radiating off of him.  Eric couldn't always read his brother, but this was obvious – Jake was worried.  Scared.  "Mom said there's a problem," was all he would admit.

"I was just collecting firewood," Eric protested.  He felt like he was underwater, all the clinic noises – the people moving around them – sounded muffled in his head, the air felt too thick.  All he knew was that he had to make them understand – he would have been here, if he had known.

Heather was sitting in a chair against the wall, and he saw her reach for his brother's hand as he moved past.  Jake flashed her a preoccupied smile, squeezed her fingers and then let go.  Michael stepped toward his sister, distracting her for the moment, and Jake looked back at Eric.  "You don't have to explain to me," he insisted. 

Jake's tone was still too generous, too forgiving.  If there was one thing Eric had grown used to in the months since the spectacular implosion of his marriage, it was the low level of hostility that came across in every interaction that he had with his family.  They all blamed him.  The sudden switch to this kid-glove treatment frightened and disoriented him.

"What about Mom?" Eric demanded. 

"Don't worry about that," Jake advised, giving him a careful shove into room five.

Eric stood frozen in place, staring at his wife, completely unaware as his brother pulled the door closed behind him. What was happening? How was this happening?  Why? he wondered bleakly, his heart hammering in his throat.  He tried to move closer, but his feet wouldn't obey his command, and instead stayed rooted in place while he watched, horrified, as his mother, Kenchy, Jeff, and the others furiously worked on, and worried over April.

She's so pale, he thought, Too pale, and too still.  How had this happened? he demanded of the universe once more.  She'd been fine the last time he'd seen her, only a week ago.  Not even, Eric decided, recalling that afternoon.  It'd been Tuesday, and today was Monday.  But she'd been fine.  And healthy.  And combative.

He'd come to the med center then too, to her office, determined that they would finally have a long overdue discussion.  Her office door had been ajar and he'd knocked on it perfunctorily before sticking his head in.  "Hey," he'd greeted like he'd done – they'd done – a million times before.  Emphasis on before.  "Can I come in?"

She'd looked up from the notebook she was studying, squinting and frowning.  "I'm not doing this right now, Eric," she'd told him, her tone sharp with annoyance.

Eric had anticipated her response.  She'd been putting him off for weeks – months – ever since he'd broken things off, and he'd let her.  It had been easier her way, easier to just not deal with everything that still needed to be worked out between them.  But they weren't going to be able to hide from one another – to avoid one another – forever, and so, he'd decided it was time he did something about it.  "Uh, you look good," he'd tried, unwilling to acknowledge her brush off.  "Like really good.  You're—"

"So help me, Eric, if you say I'm 'glowing' I'll – I'll go get the two biggest guys I can find out there," April had threatened, pointing east, toward the emergency department, "And have you forcibly removed from the building.  You don't have the right," she'd continued, glaring daggers in his direction, "To say things like that to me.  Not anymore."

"You're right," he'd agreed quickly, holding both hands up in a sign of surrender.  "I don't get to say those things to you.  That's – that's fair," he'd sighed, dropping into the guest chair across from her.  "But April, we're gonna hafta talk sometime," Eric had argued.  "You wanna do this some other way?  Fine.  Some other place?  At the house, maybe?" he'd suggested, "I'll come over tonight.  Some place neutral?  The library or town hall?"

April had met his gaze then, her own narrowing slightly before she shook her head and looked away.  "Well, the library's half burnt down – and therefore closed – and town hall is hardly neutral territory," she'd complained, grumbling.

"Well, neither's this," he'd countered, "Or my parents'.  But we need to talk," Eric had reminded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "So I'm willing to come here – to your office, your territory – as a show of good faith."  His words had sounded stupid even to him, even as they left his mouth, but it had been too late to take them back.  His wife had looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Look, April, at least I'm trying—"

"Fine," she'd interrupted, exasperation coloring her tone.  She had paused then, inhaling deeply and forcing a not entirely convincing smile.  "How 'bout tonight, at your parents'?  Say seven?"

Relieved, he'd nodded, perhaps with too much enthusiasm.  "Okay, great," Eric had declared, extracting himself from the chair.  "I'll be there," he'd promised, offering a smile in return.  "April, thank you."

"Eric."  She spat out his name like it was a curse word, or poison, before adding, her voice hitching softly, "I'm working 'til midnight tonight.  At least."

Her words had stopped him in his tracks, already halfway out the door.  He'd spun around, confusion marring his expression.  "Then why would you...?"  Eric hadn't bothered to finish his question, realizing belatedly what was going on.  Even after the last two years, during which arguing had pretty much been the only thing they did, he still wasn't used to this April – bitter April – and he'd cringed inwardly, knowing that he bore just as much responsibility for her existence as she did.  Probably more.

"It'd serve you right to get over there tonight and finally hafta deal with your mother, for one thing," she'd told him, shrugging.  "Look, I just got here.  My shift doesn't even start for another hour.  Well, forty-five minutes," she'd amended, checking her wristwatch.  It was, he'd noted – feeling a twinge of sadness – the one he'd given her for their first wedding anniversary.  "All this," she'd continued, gesturing at the neat piles of file folders and notebooks on her desk, "Is just the administrative part of my world.  Work schedules and inventories of our non-existent supplies," April had declared.  "And I only told you that to illustrate my point: running this clinic is my number one priority.  That's all I can handle right now.  It's enough.  And some – some conversation with you about I don't know what is so far down on my list...."  The tight set of her jaw told him that she was angry and upset.  "We might as well make an appointment for some time next summer," she'd informed him, expelling an annoyed breath.

"You shouldn't be working so hard, April," he'd admonished with a sigh, dropping back into the chair across from her.  "And I know, I don't really have the right to say that," Eric had conceded, frowning and leaning in over her desk, "But I do worry about you – I care about you."

"Of course you do," April had snorted, stiffening in her seat and pushing back from the desk.  "Must be why I've been feeling so well cared for as of late."  She'd let her hand rest on her middle then, pulling her shirt taut over her still small belly and giving him his first real glimpse of her pregnancy, their child growing within her.  "But you're right about one thing, you don't get to say things like that to me anymore."

"I never meant to hurt you, April, I really didn't," he'd told her.

April had rolled her eyes at that, reminding him of how she'd paced the house making faces while on the phone for marathon sessions with her sister during Autumn's pregnancy.  They'd laughed about it then, the fact that Autumn called nearly every day to verify with her big sister, the doctor, that this startling or bizarre or downright creepy thing was supposed to be happening to her body.  And they'd exchanged knowing smiles and suggestive looks, both assuming that that would soon be them, marveling at the changes pregnancy would wreak on her body.

"Well, I know you don't believe that, but it's true," Eric had concluded, shrugging helplessly.  "It's true."

Silently, they had stared at one another for a long moment, until finally, allowing a sigh, April had inquired, "So, Eric, what do you wanna talk about?"

"I think we need to talk about a divorce," he'd replied, licking his lips nervously.

She hadn't answered, instead frowning softly and turning slightly in her chair to stare at a framed photo on her desk.  Without thinking he'd leaned forward, curious about the picture, and who was in it.  Eric had immediately recognized the photograph as one he'd taken the Fourth of July before last, of April and their – at the time – three years old nephew Blake, wide-eyed and grinning, as she had sat with him, atop her horse, Arabella.  "Why?" she'd demanded suddenly, her eyes bright as she met his gaze.  "Why do we need to talk about this now?  Seriously, what's the rush?"

"How about that it's time?" Eric had returned, sitting back in his chair.  He'd reached into his coat then, extracting a manila envelope that he'd dropped on the desk.  "It's just time, April.  We can sign these now," he'd continued, reaching to pull a pen out of the cup on the edge of her desk, "And just stop torturing each other, okay?"

April had stared at the envelope, tensing as she'd recognized the label. "Of course you have them," she'd grumbled, shaking her head. 

"You're the one who had 'em drawn up," he'd reminded.

"But I never signed them.  And, I'm also the one who threw them away," she'd countered, "Yet you still have them."

Eric had taken a deep breath.  "I don't wanna fight with you, April," he'd told her stiffly.  "I'm so tired of fighting with you.  And we agreed that we weren't going to stay together just because you're pregnant.  Let's get out of this limbo," he'd requested, uncapping the pen he'd selected, "And sign 'em."

Her frown deepening, April had eyed him closely – and cautiously – as she'd contemplated her response.  Eric had quickly grown uncomfortable in the charged silence and under the heat of her glare, and had been about to launch back into his argument from a different angle when she'd finally deigned to speak.  "God Eric, did you get her pregnant, too?" she'd accused.

"What?  No!" he'd declared, rearing back in his chair, startled by her question. "It's – this has nothing to do with Mary," he'd argued, "And she's not pregnant.  I mean, given my 'less than ideal' semen quality," he'd muttered, quoting the fertility specialist they'd gone to see in Kansas City, "Those'd be some pretty sky-high odds don't you think?  Both of you being pregnant?"

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?"  April had retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.  "That you accidentally got your wife pregnant instead of your mistress?"

Eric had felt his face grow warm under her withering glare.  "You know that's not what I meant," he'd snapped in return.  "I want this baby – our baby – and I always have."

She had sat back in the chair then, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.  He had tried to tell himself it was to ward off the chill – the med center was the least freezing place in town, though calling it 'warm' was a joke – but he'd known that, really, it was him that she'd felt the need to shield herself from.  He'd wanted to settle things between them, but instead he'd only made them worse.  They were both too raw still, Eric had acknowledged to himself, both much too wounded for this to have ever worked.  "Look...I'm gonna go—"

"Wait," she'd commanded, a deep frown settling onto her features.  "There's something – something I need to know first."

Reluctantly, Eric allowed a nod.  "Yeah?"

"Were you using condoms?" April had inquired, affecting her most clinical tone.  "When you were sleeping with her, did you wear a condom?"

"That's not really any of your business," he'd replied, too startled at first to even be annoyed.  "Coming here was a bad id—"

"It is my business – very much my business," she'd contradicted.  "Unless you're telling me that you weren't having unprotected sex with both me and her for some period of time.  And I'm not asking what that time period was," April had added quickly, holding out a hand to emphasize that he was not to answer that question.   "But I do have the right to know.  It could affect my health – this baby's health," she reminded, laying a protective hand over the swell of their child.

His face had been burning by that point, but still from somewhere inside he found the gumption to push back.  "She didn't give me an STD, and I didn't give you one, April," he protested.  "You know that!"

"Actually, I don't know anything of the sort," she contradicted, her eyes bright as she shook her head at him.  "Those things are a little hard to test for these days.  And, you might be surprised by who's shown up in my exam room, with what around here.  Back – back before, and now," she sighed. 

Eric allowed his head to drop forward, not willing to meet her gaze any longer.  He didn't want to see her cry – had always hated it – especially when he knew he was to blame.  "I know you don't like her," he muttered, "And that's fine, that's your right.  But you don't always hafta think the worst of her, okay?"

"Yeah, she's not the one I'm thinking the worst of," April returned, her voice cracking with the hint of tears. She forced herself to sit up in her chair then, blowing out a long breath before informing him.  "And actually, I'm thinking like a doctor.  I made you wear a condom most of the first year we were together."

"Yeah, I remember," Eric acknowledged, his jaw tightening.  "The romance of opening our screening results together by candlelight."

"Trust but verify, right?" she'd reminded.  "That was your line."

"It was Reagan's line," he'd countered, "But yeah." 

He'd suggested one evening, four months into their still fledgling relationship – in front of April's closest medical school friend no less – that 'trust but verify' was the common thread between their two professions.  The law was, he'd argued, all about agreements between parties and how you made sure each side fulfilled their obligation.  April had smiled at him tiredly, clearly bemused or confused – or both.  Still, he'd pushed on, telling her – them – that medicine also required trust between doctor and patient, and that it was the doctor's job to verify –

His argument had clearly been falling apart, the word spilling out of his mouth had been ridiculous, but he hadn't been able to stop himself.  He had fallen head over heels for April, and at that point he still hadn't known where he stood with her.  Sometimes, he'd thought he'd do anything just for a reaction, some sign that she wasn't letting him come around out of pity.

April had still been smiling – but also trying not to laugh – and it had fallen to Danny Coates to respond.  "Dude, what?" he'd snorted, shaking his head.  Eric had liked Danny – at least once he had confirmed that April wasn't secretly in love with her best friend.  And by then, Danny had been his friend too, but he'd been April's friend first and foremost.  "Eric, dude," he'd started again, but then his cellphone had rung, and checking the number, he'd jumped to his feet.  "It's Nic," he'd told them, referring to his wife.  Danny had flipped the phone open, answering, "Hi, honey, hold on a sec."  Angling the phone away from his mouth for a moment, Danny had demanded, "April, will you just put this guy out of his misery already?"  He'd caught Eric's eye then, informing him, "Trust me, she likes you," before heading for the cafeteria door.

It had been a long moment before she'd said anything, before Eric could bring himself to glance at April.  But then she'd chuckled nervously, confessing, "He's not wrong."  She'd quickly closed up the three textbooks she'd contributed to the pile on the table and shoved them into her bag.  Then, taking a deep breath, she'd reached for his hand, inviting, "You wanna get outta here?"

On that evening, however, April had no hand – no invitation – to offer.  Instead, she'd stared at him, frowning, hugging herself, clearly fighting to hold it together.  "I trusted you," she'd sighed.  "I certainly trusted that – that you'd never do this."

"Look," he began a long fifteen seconds later, once again beginning to leverage himself up out of his chair.  "I'm just gonna –"

"Have you even read these?" April had interrupted.  She'd picked the manila envelope up, and flipped it over, examining the clasp for a moment.  It looked like it could have been opened, beyond the three times she'd looked over the documents herself, back before the world had ended.  But still.  "Because I totally screwed you over on everything in here.  Did you notice that?" she'd asked, curiosity and confusion replacing outright hostility in her tone.

"Yeah, I noticed," Eric had chuckled humorlessly, slouching back in his seat.  "And who was this guy you used? Bill Garity?  I've never heard of 'im," he'd admitted, frowning.

April had shrugged.  "Just some schmuck attorney in New Bern," she'd muttered.  "Couldn't really go to Gunnison and Gunnison, after all," she'd reminded, mentioning the law firm the Green family had used for four generations.  "You wanted me to go to somebody in Rogue River," she'd suggested then, "Who'd probably turn out to be golfing buddies with one of your uncles?"

"My uncles don't really play golf," Eric had countered, rubbing his forehead with the back of his thumb.  "Well, Dennis and Patrick," he'd conceded with his next breath.  "But they're in Napa."

"One of their fishing buddies then," she had snapped, exasperated.  "You know what I mean.  Everyone knows who you are," she'd ground out. "Who the Greens are.  Even Bill Garity schmuck attorney from New Bern knew exactly who you are," April had grumbled, rolling her eyes.  "But at least he wasn't old pals with your dad.  And he was perfectly happy to take the fee, and draw up this lopsided agreement," she'd explained, shaking her head.  April had opened the envelope's clasp then, withdrawing the pages that she'd gone to such efforts to procure – and even now wished didn't exist.  "Ironically, he assumed you were cheating on me," she'd informed him, pausing to check something on the first page.  "Wouldn't believe me when I said you weren't."  She'd met his eye then, her lips pursed.  "And I defended you," she admitted with a shrug.  "I told him that you weren't like that." 

Eric had hung his head again, unable to face her.  "April," he'd started, but he hadn't been really sure what he wanted to say – what he could say.  She'd already admitted that she thought the worst of him, and he couldn't really blame her for that, he'd realized.  "I – I'm sorry."

"Sure."  Her acknowledgement had been clipped.  April had taken a fortifying breath.  "Look, you want me to sign these, right?" she'd asked rhetorically, waving the sheath of documents at him.  "I mean, does it really matter if you give me a house that's a total loss—"

"It's your house," he'd interjected.  "We bought that house because you loved it.  I wanted that house for you," Eric had insisted, grasping at that truth.  It was one of the times – maybe the last time, though that didn't feel fair – that he'd done something solely because he'd loved her, without mixed motives or bruised feelings playing a part.  "I was never gonna fight you over the house."

Chewing her lip, April had nodded in acknowledgement.  "Well, thank you for that at least."

Eric had exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Seventy-five percent of everything else, though?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone light.  He'd known the chance was small, but still he'd hoped that one day they could get past the hurt, and at least be civil with one another, for their child if nothing else.  And if he needed to be self-deprecating, cracking jokes at his own expense, to make that happen, then he'd manage it somehow.  "I mean seventy percent, fine.  But seventy-five?" he'd argued, arching one eyebrow to punctuate the question.

"I wasn't trying to be fair," she'd informed him, refusing to engage in the joke.  "God, that sounds so bad," April had acknowledged with a caustic snort.  "But it was a – an opening bid, not anything—" 

But she'd stopped herself from completing that thought, shifting – Nervously?  Uncomfortably?  Eric was back again in a world where he couldn't read her – in her chair.   "Well, it didn't matter," she'd insisted.  "You'd still have your inheritance – which I purposely didn't mention to the lawyer because I didn't want any part of it.  I love your family," April had declared, "I wasn't gonna end our marriage and then walk off with a – a piece of Gramps' life work."  She'd thought about it for a moment, and then amended, "Well, an even bigger piece."

Eric knew his grandfather – the man he'd been named in honor of – would have been disappointed in him for divorcing, maybe even disgusted with him, if the facts about his relationship with Mary Bailey had come out. For all Eric knew, his grandfather – had he still been living – would have disowned him.  EJ Green hadn't believed in divorce, had seen marriage vows as sacred, and had considered April to be his granddaughter.  The only reason he hadn't specified financial bequests for his daughter-in-law and granddaughters-in-law was truly because he didn't think he needed to.  In EJ's mind, bequeathing his estate to Johnston, Jake, and Eric was the same as providing for their wives.  "Gramps wouldn't have seen it that way," he'd told her.

"But I would've," April had countered.

"Jake wants the ranch, says he's always wanted the ranch," Eric had told her then, his tone scoffing. 

His brother had come to see him a few days after New Years' to let him know that he was choosing to exercise his option – per their grandfather's will – to take over management – ownership – of the ranch.  Eric had challenged him on the convenience of reaching his decision now; the ranch, while always the most valuable of the Green family assets, was now the only holding in their portfolio that was still worth anything.

"I don't care if you believe me," Jake had shrugged.  "That was my plan.  All I wanted – want – is to be present for Heather and our kids, be a part of their lives," he'd insisted, not quite able to suppress the note of censure in his tone. 

Eric had bristled at his brother's implication – accusation – that he was the bad husband – though Eric had to admit, if only to himself, that he had failed April – while conveniently ignoring his own years'-long status as an absentee spouse.  But Eric hadn't said anything, and Jake had continued, letting him know, "Dad and I talked. He gets where I'm coming from."

  "I know," she'd returned tiredly.  "He told me.  But I always figured that's what Jake would do – go for the ranch in the end.  And, I knew you would be fine – better than fine.  Your dad would've arranged things, assigned you a nice chunk of passive income, let you go on your merry—"  April had stopped then, choking slightly on the word, finishing her sentence a beat later.  "On your way."

"Well, you've always understood Jake better than me," Eric had retorted, not bothering to address the rest.  April had always gotten along with his brother – hell, liked his brother – better than he had, plus she and Heather were close, so of course she would know – or at least assume she knew – which option Jake would take.  That didn't mean it hadn't irritated him.

April had emitted a frustrated sound, pressing the palms of both hands against her eyes.  "You know, we're arguing about seventy or seventy-five of our marital assets in a financial system that currently doesn't exist, and probably never will again.  You get that, right?" she'd demanded. 

Eric had, and he'd chuckled sourly in acknowledgement.  "Yeah, I know."

Dropping her hands from her face, April had reached for the legal documents she'd abandoned on her desk.  "You realize that these —" April held up the thirteen page document and shook it in his direction.  "—these papers may get you the divorce you seem so dead set on having…."  Her face had been pinched, and he'd been sure she was about to cry, but she'd sucked a deep breath in, through her teeth.  "But this document – this meaningless document – doesn't address the only thing you should care about – the only thing I do care about."  With that she had thrown the packet back down on the desk, and had sat back in her chair, letting both her hands rest over the child she carried.

Her statement hung heavy in the air between them.  Eric looked up, startled and feeling a little sick, his gaze immediately locking with her fiery one.  "So, I'll sign 'em," she declared.  "Right after you add a clause that states that I have primary physical and legal custody of this child—"

"That's not fair!" he'd protested, "April you can't seriously be—"

"Life isn't fair, Eric," she had informed him, rolling her eyes.  "That really is the kindest summary anyone could come up with for the last four months, isn't it?" she'd grumbled.  "Life isn't fair.  And, I am serious," she'd continued a beat later.  "You want to be done with me now?  Right this minute?  Fine.  I want custody."

"No way," Eric barked in return, "No way, I'm not doing that." 

April's only answer had been a sigh and a shrug.

"So, the plan is we just stay married and hating each other forever?" He'd asked a long moment later.  "Because that sounds great," he'd declared sarcastically.

"Not forever," she'd answered quietly after another uncomfortable pause.  "Just until the baby is born."  April had caught his eye then, holding it for a moment before she'd looked away again, swiping one hand across her own eyes.  "Everything – everything that has happened between us has been dictated by you, by your schedule.  Your terms.  So, for this, we're gonna do this one thing my way.  And it's stupid – I can't even explain it—" she'd admitted.  "But I want this baby to be born while we're still married.  In wedlock," April had finished, an acerbic note in her voice.

Eric had offered a slight, tentative nod.  "Okay, sure."

"I know I sound crazy," she had told him, laughing at herself derisively.  "I'm the one who was reluctant to get married, I'm the one who turned you down the first time you proposed….  But," she'd continued a moment later, "That's why actually, I want us to stay married, just for now.  Because this baby is the only child I'm going to have—"

"April, you don't know that," Eric had protested. 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure," she had contradicted him with a harsh bark of laughter.  "I'm gonna hafta take a hard pass on post-apocalyptic dating.  Definite hard pass," she'd repeated under her breath.  April had closed her eyes, rubbing them, and then had pinched her nose for a second.  "But – later – when it comes up – if it comes up, I want to be able to tell her that we wanted her that much," she'd declared.  "That she wasn't a mistake, and if anything, we stayed together longer than we should have.  For her.  Because we wanted her so much."

He'd nodded, blinking rapidly to hold at bay his own tremulous emotions.  "Okay," Eric had agreed thickly, shocked that he could speak given the lump in his throat, and the heavy weight in the center of his chest. 

"Give me that, and you can have your divorce," April had declared.

Nodding again, Eric had paused before asking, "With or without your custody clause?"

Her eyes had flashed with irritation, but somehow she'd managed to bite most of it back before she'd replied.  "With," April had shrugged, adding grudgingly, "But we'll figure out something reasonable for visitation." 

They had stared at one another for a long moment, long enough that she apparently had felt she needed to defend her position.  "Look, I'm not being vindictive," she'd argued, "But I have to look out for myself and for this baby.  Because we failed at the one thing… the one thing I really didn't want to mess up in this life," April had sighed before squaring her shoulders and insisting, "So, I won't risk messing things up for this baby, too."

"Okay," he'd agreed, closing his eyes.  He'd felt … not defeated exactly, more like worn out.  And unspeakably sad.  "I wanted us to work, too," he'd murmured, finally forcing himself to climb to his feet.  He'd taken a step toward the door, but then had turned to face her again.  "I loved you April, so much.  Practically from that moment when I fell down at your feet.  You know that, right?" he'd asked, his eyes suddenly bright.  "Part of me – part of me always will."

"Just not enough to try and save our marriage, huh?" she'd asked, furiously swiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

"By then, you stopped needing me," he'd replied, sighing, "I couldn't even get you pregnant."

"I always needed you!" April had contradicted immediately, clearly shocked by his claim.  "You – you just stopped being available," she'd accused, practically sputtering.  "You – you stopped being there – stopped listening to me."  She had paused a moment, breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring.  "I – I needed a break.  I needed to be enough for you, even if we never had a baby."  She broke off, shaking her head, clearly about to burst into tears.  "Just go, Eric," April had ordered. "Go."

Don't go, April, Eric wanted to scream, Stay, you've got to stay.  Fight, April.  Just keep fighting, please.  But he couldn't give voice to any of his pleas – whether because it would make the possibility real, or because she might just do the opposite to spite him, Eric didn't know.  So, he hovered, silently – anxiously – behind the group working to save April and their baby.

They were really going to do it, he realized, watching Kench Dhuwalia select a scalpel off a tray of instruments.  They were going to perform surgery, here at the Jericho Medical Center.  Four months before, the center would have been shut down if anyone had attempted this…. But now, Eric knew in the marrow of his bones, in the pit of his stomach, this was April's only chance.  Their baby's only chance.

"…. Losing too much blood, clamp it off!" Dhuwalia's barked command reached Eric's ears, and finally Eric's feet would cooperate.  He took two small steps closer.  "Get away from the incision," the doctor ordered his mother.

But Gail wasn't having it.  "I need to hear if the baby's in distress," she complained.

Dhuwalia was insistent.  "Get away from the incision," he repeated, practically barking at her.

"You haven't let me get a pulse from the baby in an hour," Gail returned, obstinately refusing to move away from her daughter-in-law. 

Mimi, stationed next to April's head, rattled off, "Respirations are sixteen.  Pulse is eighty-four."  She sounded as worried as Eric felt.  Neither of them were medical professionals, but anyone would recognize that those were bad numbers.  April, he wanted to yell.

"Fetal heart rate is less than five beats per minute!" his mother protested, and Eric wanted to throw up.

"You're not close enough to the fetus," a young woman argued.  She was from the Roger Hammond's band of refugees, the medical student, Eric identified, somehow pulling that piece of information from the back of his brain, when he knew he really should be concentrating on the baby and April.  On their survival.

"It's not an accurate measurement, Gail," Jeff said then.  The young man tried to pull her away from April, but she wouldn't move.  Go Mom, Eric wanted to shout.  Help April, help the baby.

"The placenta is going into the uterine wall," Dhuwalia ground out, his gloved hands still buried in April's abdomen.  "It's ripping away.  That's what's causing the bleeding," he pronounced.

"I've lost it," Gail wailed then, "I can't hear anything!"

Finally, Eric found his voice.  "What – what's going on?" he demanded. 

His eyes met his mother's, and she announced, her voice cracking, "The baby's heartbeat – it's stopped."

"What do you mean it's stopped?" Eric cried out, giving into the wave of fear that was crashing over – through – him.  He wanted to fall to his knees, to beg for forgiveness, to tell God that April didn't deserve this – their baby didn't deserve this.  He'd give her everything, just don't take the baby away…. "What do you mean?"

Eyes flashing, his mother wheeled on Dhuwalia.  "Do something!" she commanded.

In the next instance, the room was plunged into darkness and all mechanical sounds ceased.  Jeff realized what was happening first, and his voice rang out hollowly in the suddenly quieter space.  "That's the last of the diesel."

"Open the door!" Dhuwalia yelled, and finally there was something that Eric could do.  He stumbled toward the door, more falling than walking.  "Open the blinds!" the doctor roared, turning to yank them open himself.  "I need light!"

Gail seemed to be the only one who didn't understand.  "Why aren't you doing something about the baby?"

Jeff again reached for her, placing his hand on her arm.  "This – this hasn't been about the baby for several hours," he confessed quietly.

The refugee doctor stepped next to Gail on her other side.  "The baby never really had a chance," she said taking over the explanation for Jeff.  "I'm sorry."

No, Eric wanted to argue with them all.  No. He wouldn't accept it.  He couldn't lose yet another dream.  "What are you saying?"

Dhuwalia was back working on his patient, his hands once again navigating their way through her abdominal cavity.  He didn't look up.  "I am trying to save April."

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To be continued in Different Circumstances, Part 15E.

I really am continuing to write this story, and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that, the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends.

America's Funniest Home Videos is a really long running TV series where people submit home videos (in 2002 they probably were recorded on a camcorder, too) in order to compete for a cash prize.

It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine) is a song by R.E.M. on their album Document and was released in 1987.  I think it would actually be very difficult to sing at karaoke, but maybe Eric could do it.

Star Trek is an American science fiction franchise created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount.  Captain Picard is a character on Star Trek: The Next Generation which debuted in September 1987.  He is also a character on Star Trek: Picard, but that series does not exist in the Jericho universe as it did not begin production until a few years ago.  If Stanley or Heather had known about Star Trek: Picard in 2002, that might have caused a temporal loop, or temporal paradox, one type of which is a causal loop.  That is actually what Heather is referring to when she speaks of a temporal loop.  Her mother's illness (as described in earlier parts of this story) and death were causal in her decision to move to Jericho where she met Jake.  Heather is right to avoid instigating a temporal/causal loop or paradox.

"Trust but verify" is a Russian proverb that Ronald Reagan adopted during his presidency for his dealings with the USSR on issues of nuclear disarmament. He was taught the proverb by an advisor, but is often credited with the saying as he very famously used it while conducting foreign policy.