The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 10

by Marzee Doats

Author's Note:

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 400 pages and 11 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

Warnings:

There is some foul language in this part.  So fair warning about that.  I have tried to stay true to the character (the one who lives in print and not on network television) without being gratuitous. 

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.

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

Tuesday June 6, 5:23 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

Heather spotted Gail as soon as she entered Roma Italia's small, somewhat overcrowded with furniture, lobby.  Of course, she wasn't hard to find; aside from the hostess – Elena "Nona" Rossi, who co- owned and managed the restaurant along with her husband – her mother-in-law was the only other person present. 

"There's our birthday girl," Gail announced, rising from her seat on the long bench across from the hostess station.  The two met in the middle of the lobby, Gail beaming at her daughter-in-law – whose smile was honestly a little bit wider than her own – and pulling her into a hug.   "So, Heather," she asked as she released her from their embrace a long moment later, "How has your first day as a twenty-seven-year-old been?"

Grinning, Heather laughed at that.  "Really, really amazing," she answered, "Which I wasn't quite expecting.  Or expecting at all, to be honest."

"I know, Sweetheart," her mother-in-law assured, catching her hand in her own and squeezing it.  "And it is amazing."

"I so didn't want to celebrate my birthday," the younger woman admitted.  "I mean, I knew I was gonna hafta a little bit, and you've all been so sweet about everything, but I just – I wanted to get through the day without crying," she confessed, swiping the back of her free hand across suddenly watery eyes.  "And clearly I spoke too soon," she groaned before blowing out a long, calming breath.

"But that's okay," Gail insisted, wrapping an arm around her daughter-in-law, and leading her over to the bench she'd vacated not even two minutes earlier.  "Because these are happy tears," she declared as they seated themselves.  "I hope."

Nona Rossi caught Gail's eye then, and after producing a call bell from a shelf inside the hostess's stand and placing it on top, motioned that she was heading into the kitchen.  Gail nodded her thanks.

"Yes, definitely happy tears," Heather confirmed, giving up on rooting through her purse when her mother-in-law handed her a travel tissue packet from her own handbag.  "I – I tried to get here early," she explained, pressing a tissue to the corner of one eye.  "So, we could talk.  And I could say thank you for delivery services rendered," she smiled.  "So, thank you."

"Sweetheart, you are very welcome," the older woman laughed.  "Besides I don't think it will surprise you to learn that I was absolutely delighted to be recruited for that particular 'delivery service'."

"Uh, no," her daughter-in-law verified, emitting a gentle laugh, and wiping her other eye with the tissue.

"And you're hardly late.  It's not even five thirty yet," Gail argued.

"But I meant to be here earlier," Heather insisted.  "It's just that I've had a lot of phone calls this afternoon.  And one delivery," she added, her hand moving to her necklace, fiddling with the pendant, moving it back and forth on its chain. 

* * *

Grant Dalton had introduced himself by name, adding, "I'm the 'Son' in Dalton and Son's Jewelers."

"I remembered that you were one of the Daltons, but I'm glad to know your name, Grant," Heather had returned, clipping her cell phone to the pocket of her shorts before holding her hand out to him so they could shake.

Smiling, Grant had pumped her arm enthusiastically.  "I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here," he'd continued half a beat later, "And also since I happen to know it's your birthday, Happy Birthday, Mrs. Green—"

"Heather, please," she'd interrupted.  "And thank you.  Jake told me that I should be here when my present arrived, and that I would recognize the delivery person, which I assume is you.  And I definitely recognized you."

"Great," he had declared, his smile widening.  "I never expect people to remember me," he'd confessed with his next breath.  "Which is not important.  But, yes, I have your present from Jake."  He'd shown her a navy blue sueded box that had 'Dalton & Sons Jewelers, Fielding Kansas' embossed across the top in an elegant silver script.  With a deft hand, he'd removed the lid, showing her the velour jewelry case that had been nestled inside.  He had extracted the case and handed it to her.  "I'd open it for you – for sure I would do that if we were in the store.  But that seems like an odd gesture—" 

He'd shaken his head at himself, allowing a frustrated noise to escape.  "Anyway, I know that Jake wanted to give this to you in person, but he said he'd gotten held up on an overseas assignment.  Which, obviously, you know," he'd chuckled self-consciously. 

"Yeah," she'd agreed with a sigh, "I know."

"Well, he and I have been emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks now.  Couple months, really."

Nodding absently, she had opened the hinged box.  "Oh, my goodness."   

"Ever since I spotted that for sale online," Grant had completed. 

"This – this is amazing," Heather had breathed, fingering the pendant.  The stone was the same shape and size as the star sapphire in her engagement ring and the setting was both simple and elegant.  "Is this the infinity symbol?"

"Exactly right," he'd confirmed.  "It arrived in a very bad setting, to be honest.  Not well crafted in the first place, and rather dated.  Estate jewelry has moved online in the last few years, and I spotted this in the inventory of a shop in Oregon.  I sent the link to Jake and told him I was sure this was the best quality star sapphire I'd seen since your engagement ring—"

"It definitely matches," she'd decided, holding the jewelry box out next to her hand for him to see. 

"I was certain it was close, and I told Jake that.  But that is a definite match," the jeweler had agreed, flashing her a pleased smile.  "Jake told me to buy it for him – well, for you.  Then I recommended resetting it and sent him a couple of options.  He chose the 'infinity love knot'."

* * *

"I'm guessing that's your last present from Jake?" Gail inquired, pointing at her daughter-in-law's fingers resting absently on the necklace she was wearing.  "It's beautiful.  I heard about it, but never got to see the pictures."

"Well, I hope it's my last present from Jake," Heather chuckled, letting go of the pendant so that it lay against her skin just below her throat.  "I was half afraid I'd get here, and you'd hand me something else from him," she confessed.  "And it's definitely been a day of 'fun surprises', like you said.  But if there's one more thing …."  She shook her head.  "I don't want him doing these things because he's feeling guilty about being gone.  And not gone.  Just temporarily away."

"I don't think he is," his mother argued.  "He loves you and he misses you, that's the only reason you need to think about.  And as far as I'm aware, that is everything," she declared, gesturing at Heather's necklace.  "And it truly is beautiful."

"Here," Heather said, shifting slightly in her seat and holding the pendant out for inspection.  "Grant Dalton said the setting is called the 'infinity love knot', which I love, and then when I said that to Jake, he said that's what he'd been going for.  Because infinity.  Forever."

* * *

Jake had called her back for the first time right after Grant Dalton's departure, almost before she'd had a chance to get inside the house (bringing her bouquet and new necklace with her) and disarm the security system.  But he'd been calling from his unsecured cell and Heather had played along just as he'd requested in his email.  She'd made up a gift that her father had sent to her, but – following Jake's advice about cover stories – had preserved a nugget of truth.  "It's a sentimental present, Hon," she'd told him.  "The bracelet my grandparents gave my mom for her twenty-first birthday.  Though who knows why Dad waited until now to give it to me."

What she hadn't said – and which Jake knew – was that Renate Schulze had married Joseph Lisinski only a month after her twenty-first birthday, and she'd worn the bracelet as her "something new".  Joe had actually given the bracelet to Heather for her twenty-third birthday – albeit a month late – and declaring that she was "following tradition", Heather had worn the bracelet for their wedding, but as her "something old".

"He wanted you to have it," he'd offered, "Doesn't really matter when he got around to giving it to you, right?  And I'm sure your mom wanted you to have it."

"Yeah," she'd agreed.  "And Mom was probably too sick to really think about it when I turned twenty-one.  And she was gone before I turned twenty-two, so….  I'm just glad to have it now."

"Good."

"Jake, I need to go.  I need to take a shower and change clothes," she'd informed him, which was also just as he'd instructed in his email ('Go ahead and get rid of me pretty quick.  Tell me you need to take a shower before dinner with Mom and April.  Maybe give me a minute to complain that I don't get to join you.').  "I'm hot and sweaty and no way am I going to dinner with your mom and April wearing shorts and my school polo shirt."

"Now that's just mean, Babe," he'd accused, groaning softly.  "Teasin' me with a shower and 'hot and sweaty' all in one sentence."

"Technically, two sentences," she'd countered.  "But you know what?  If you were here, I'd bet you'd be hot and sweaty too," she'd predicted, practically purring.  "So then, I'd invite you to join me.  In the shower."

"I'm kinda permanently hot and sweaty here," he'd reminded her, his timbre dropping so that his voice had been a low rumble in her ear that had sent a delightful tingle up her spine.  "But if I were home, I'd be racing you to the shower.  And then I'd let you win, since it's your birthday and all."

"Oh, you're gonna let me win, huh?" she'd retorted, feigning annoyance.  "I don't think so, Mister."

"I'm taller than you, my legs are longer, and it takes me fewer steps to get anywhere.  Those are just facts, Babe."

"You are also too polite to ever beat me to the shower," she had informed him.  "Because your mom – well, and your dad – drilled 'ladies first' into you from birth.  And even if you decided to ignore that instinct – that training, whatever you want to call it – I also happen to know that sometimes you enjoy watching me walk in front of you."

"Those are also facts," he'd agreed, "Which is why – like I said – I'd let you win."

Heather had caught herself smiling at the grin she could hear in his voice.  "Oh, Jake," she'd chuckled, "Sometimes…."

"You just can't believe how much you love me, right?" he'd filled in for her.

"Exactly."

"Go take your shower," he'd ordered.  "And have fun at dinner with Mom and April, okay?  I'll call you again later tonight."

"Can't wait, Hon," she'd murmured.  "Though you know," she'd continued after a moment's hesitation, "If you were here now, I'd be having a lot more fun today.  In the shower.  And at dinner.  After dinner.  With you."  A short titter had escaped Heather, and she'd admitted with her next breath, "I talked to Mandy for, like, all the time between your last call and this one, and she told me I needed to up my phone game where you're concerned.  So, that was my attempt."

"Well, I love the attempt," Jake had declared.  "But your phone game's fine, Heather, promise.  Don't ever feel like you have to change things for me.  I love you.  Just the way you are."

"Not to quote a song or anything," she'd giggled.

"That was an accident," he'd insisted, chuckling.  "Still true, though.  Happy Birthday.  I love you.  Go take a shower so – you know – I can sit here for the next half hour, thinkin' 'bout how you're takin' a shower," he'd joked.

"Okay," she'd sighed.  "But just so you know, the whole time I'm in the shower, I'm gonna be thinkin' about you, too.  You know.  In the shower."

Jake had groaned again.  "Now that's really mean, Babe."

"Sorry," she'd laughed, though it had quickly given way to a sigh.  "But I wasn't trying to be mean, more like giving you something else to ponder.  'Cause I love you too.  So much."

"You better go.  Then I can get to pondering," he'd teased.  "Love you.  Bye."

"Love you.  Bye."

He had called again nine minutes later; she'd answered on the first ring.  "Please tell me that you haven't had time to take a shower, 'cause I have not had time to really ponder that yet.  And I want to."

"So, you're in a good place to talk?"

"I am."

"I haven't taken a shower yet, but I am poised to do so," she'd told him.  "I'm not technically hmm – hmm, but all I hafta do is turn it on and then five seconds and one – shall we say 'tug'? – later, I can be taking a shower.  Well, thirty.  But that's just to let the water warm up."

"I think I'm gettin' the picture, Babe," he had chuckled.  "And thank you for such a great picture to ponder later."

"You are most welcome," she'd told him, her voice full of affection.  "But you can stop sayin' 'ponder' now.  It's starting to get a little weird."

"Hey, you started it," he'd returned.  "But okay.  I'll just go back to thinking about you taking a shower.  No more pondering.  That work?"

"That works," she had sighed.  "Would work even better if you were here."

"Trust me, I wish to hell I was."

"Jake, uh…" she had begun after a short pause.  "You – you like my dad, right?  That – all of that earlier – that was part of the cover story, right?"

"Yeah, Babe.  I like your dad," he'd assured her immediately.  "I like him a lot.  Better than I like my dad, most of the time.  And yeah.  It's part of the cover story."

"You love your dad."

"Doesn't mean he isn't a jackass sometimes.  Most of the time," Jake had countered.  "But your dad isn't.  And I like him.  I liked him even when he wasn't so sure about me."

"I think my dad's just learned to pick his battles," she'd reminded.

"Well, yeah," he had agreed.  "Tommy." 

"Right," she'd giggled before heaving a relieved sigh.  "And my dad likes you, he just needed to meet you.  You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he'd confirmed.

"I'm glad it was just part of the cover story," she'd told him a beat later.  "It, uh… I was worried, I guess."

"I know, Babe," he had muttered, apologizing, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Not really," he'd grumbled.  "I just – I didn't want you to hafta be that involved in my cover, Heather.  It's my job, it's not your—"

"I want to be able to talk to you," she had interjected, an anxious note once again lacing her tone.  "I need to be able to talk to you.  So, that means I'll be as involved as I hafta be, okay?"  She'd paused for a half second, then had added quietly, "And I'm sorry that I messed up by mentioning the delivery."

Jake had been forceful in his reply.  "You didn't mess up.  I messed up," he'd insisted.  "And then how I tried to fix it – well, it works with aspects of my cover.  But that’s all part of the part that you don't need to be dealing with." 

"'Part of the part'?" Heather had quoted back at him, attempting to stifle a snicker.

"Yeah, 'part of the part'," he'd repeated, chuckling along with her.  "There's just – there're things we've had to add, just to kinda ratchet things up, get 'em moving.  There's a bunch of new analysts, who're assigned only to me – to my cover.  Straight outta college.  We call 'em 'The Triplets'.   They're the ones who need to deal with the 'part of the part' and worry about getting all the details right.  All the documents and records.  Babe….  You just need to talk to me and send me email," he'd decided.  "Tell me what's happening at home and at school and with Mom and Dad, April and Eric, everybody in Buffalo.  Especially Megan."

"Are you allowed to tell me all that?"

"Just did, Babe," he'd offered in return, the shrug evident in his tone.  "And what's Gretchen gonna do?  Fire me?" he'd scoffed.  "But I'm sorry that I made you worry, and I'm really sorry that you hafta be mixed up in all this."

"It's okay, Jake," she'd sighed, "I told you."

"Yeah, okay," he'd acknowledged before reiterating, "I like your dad, Babe.  Of course, I like your dad.  He's half the reason the most important person in the world exists."

"You're trying to distract me," she'd complained, though she hadn't sounded like she'd really minded.   "And I love you, too."

"Love you more.  And speaking of your delivery: you got it, right?"

"Yes," Heather had replied, her lilting tone transforming that one syllable into three.  "That's why – on the other call – I told you my dad had sent me the bracelet I already have.  That was a coded message I figured you'd get, Hon.  Because it's jewelry and it's sentimental."

"So, you like it?"

"I love it," she'd declared.  "And not just the star sapphire that matches my ring perfectly.  But the 'infinity love knot' too.  I love that even more."

"Well, that is what I was goin' for, you know.  Infinity.  Forever," he'd explained.  "That's the coded message I figured you'd get.  That I love you forever."

"Message received, loud and clear," she'd confirmed, giggling.  "And I love you forever, too.  Do kind of wish you were here to put it on for me." 

Heather had closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine how that would have gone.  To start, he would have smiled at her as he'd taken the jewelry case from her hand.  Extracting the necklace from its satin bed, he'd have stepped behind her, gathering her loose hair together so he could move it out of his way.  And there was no way Jake Green would ever pass up the chance to kiss the back of her neck, her shoulder, the juncture of both.  Then, pressing himself against her, he would reach around her, letting the pendant rest against her skin before fastening the necklace's clasp.  Finally, he would turn her around so he could survey his handiwork, perhaps adjusting the pendant to his satisfaction before enveloping her in his arms and bringing his mouth down onto hers.

"Me too, Babe," he'd murmured, interrupting her rather pleasant flight of fancy.  "Just bring it with you to Hawaii, and I'll put it on for you every night before we go to dinner, 'kay?"

"I will," she'd promised, still grinning to herself about her daydream.  "Even though that's a recipe for being late to dinner every night."

"We're gonna be on vacation.  Can't be late anywhere when we're on vacation," he'd reasoned, "Or it's not a vacation."

"Okay," she had caught herself nodding, "Actually, that is a very good point."

"Don't sound so surprised," he'd snorted.

"That's not—"  Heather had stopped, feeling flustered. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, Babe."

"And it's my birthday, you're not supposed to accuse me of being a know-it-all on my birthday," she'd admonished.

"Hey!  I didn't accuse you of anything," he'd defended himself.  "And you do know it all, so that wouldn't be an accusation, it would just be stating a fact."

Her "hmmm" had been noncommittal, but she'd perked up in the next instance when she'd informed him, "Well, I'm telling you now: since you're right, and it is a vacation, we don't hafta be anywhere at a specific time.  So, if we make dinner reservations and then blow 'em off, then I guess we just eat a lotta grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches.  I mean, grilled cheese or peanut butter," she'd corrected.  "Not peanut butter and cheese grilled together."

"I know."

"Good.  Now, the one exception is that I want you to take me to a luau.  And I bet those start at a specific time and that you hafta make reservations," she informed him.  "We hafta be on time for that, okay?"

"So, we officially have Hawaii requirements.  Got it."

"Yes, we do," she'd verified, giggling.  "And it only took me, like, ten hours."

"New record," he had teased.  "So, you do the research, pick out the luau that you wanna go to, and we'll go.  How's that?"

"Perfect, thank you," she'd murmured before adding, "And you hafta have fun too. Mister."

"I'm gonna have fun, Babe," he'd promised.  "I always have fun when I'm with you."

"I always have fun with you, too," she'd flirted back.  "And when we were talking about Hawaii at lunch, your mom said that going to a luau was a highlight when she was there with your dad."

"Pretty sure my parents never went to Hawaii," he'd returned, his tone skeptical.  "Dad doesn't like to leave town that much."

"It was before you were born, when your dad was in Vietnam," she'd explained.  "He had some leave and they met up there, kinda like we're gonna do.  They both said it was like a second honeymoon for them."

"Did not know that," he'd admitted.

"Your mom said it was an eye-opening experience for a twenty-one-year-old girl from Rogue River, Kansas," Heather had recounted.  "And she recommended taking walks on the beach and going to a luau.  And then your dad said that there's something about Hawaii that just inspires risqué thoughts," she'd giggled.

"My dad actually said 'risqué'?"

"He did.  And I survived him saying it, which is the really amazing thing."

"Man, somethin' must be goin' on with him," Jake had opined.  "First, he emails me about the whole Roman orgy story, and now he's talking to you about having 'risqué thoughts'?  Maybe we should be worried, 'cause isn't a loss of inhibition a sign of dementia or something?"

"Your dad doesn't have dementia, Hon," she'd chided.  "And I know you're mad at him, and you have every right to be, but—"

"I'm not as pissed off as I was, okay?  As long as he's not right."

"He's not, Jake," she had confirmed immediately.  "I miss you.  A lot.  But you are not neglecting me.  You are seriously not neglecting me," she'd repeated, listing, "Cake for breakfast, coffee for a year, the world's most ostentatious and amazing bouquet of roses, and a star sapphire necklace that literally says 'I love you forever'.  How the heck could I ever feel neglected?"

"Those're just things, Babe."

"Yeah, but things that you put a lot of thought into," she'd argued.  "And I appreciate that, so much.  So, thank you."

"Well, you're welcome and I'm glad you like everything.  Happy Birthday, Heather."

"Thanks," she'd answered.  "And… speaking of putting thought into something: I have an agenda for our last phone call tonight, and the second item on the agenda is to discuss rose color meaning.  Like the thought that prompted you to send me three dozen roses, and why exactly half of them are red, while the other half is half yellow, half white."

"Also known as quarters," he had reminded her.  "I'm kinda shocked, Mrs. Green.  I mean, multiplying fractions, that's right in your wheelhouse."

"True.  So, why exactly," she had pressed, "Did you send me a bouquet that is half red roses, a quarter yellow and a quarter white?"

You know all the meanings of rose colors, Babe." 

"There are multiple meanings, especially when you start mixing colors together," she had argued.  "I want to know what you meant."

"So, you said you've got an agenda, right?  And rose colors 're on it?  So, I'll tell you tonight when we get to that item," he'd promised.  "But now I gotta know, what else 've you got on this agenda of yours?" he'd demanded, teasing, "I assume you've got 'sweet talk' somewhere on there, right?"

"I do now," Heather had retorted, giggling.  "For sure.  And I also have 'flirt shamelessly' written down because Mandy told me to put that at the top of the list after I said I was writing an agenda in the first place.  She was so disappointed in me, but I told her it wouldn't surprise you."

"You're right," he'd agreed.  "Can't say that I'm surprised.  And I definitely think 'flirt shamelessly' needs to on there.  So do I get—"

"Ack!  Jake!" she'd yelped, interrupting him.  "I need to leave in, like, fifteen minutes," she'd decided.  "I really need to leave in five minutes—"

"Babe, April said your dinner reservation is for six.  You don't need to leave for an hour."

"Yeah, but they'll seat us at five-thirty if we're all there, so we're all gonna try and be there by then," Heather had explained.  "And I wanna get there early.  So – I kinda want to talk to your mom," she'd admitted.  "Before April gets there."

"Right," he'd acknowledged.  "Go take your shower," he'd ordered then.  "For at least ten minutes.  'Cause I'm gonna ponder you taking a shower for ten minutes, okay?"

"Maybe it's not so weird.  You saying 'ponder'."

"Maybe it's my new favorite word," Jake had joked.  "I love you."

"Love you, too.  Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

"He said he knew I'd get the coded message of this necklace," Heather continued as her mother-in-law peered closely at the pendant.  "That he loves me forever."

"I think you already knew that," Gail smiled, "But it's still good that you have this reminder to take with you whenever you want."

"Yeah," she agreed.  "I almost didn't put it on tonight.  But it is a nice reminder.  Along with my love letter."  Heather held her purse open, giving the older woman a glance of the envelope inside.  "I know it's silly that I want to carry it with me."

"It's not silly at all," Gail contradicted.  "Honestly, I would carry it with me too if this were thirty-five, forty years ago and Johnston had sent me that particular letter.  In fact, I had that very letter in my purse for about twenty-eight hours before I took it to the florists," she admitted, squeezing her daughter-in-law's arm.  "I wanted to be sure it was safe.  Because, Sweetheart, that is a love letter.  To you and to your future children.  Which is exactly what I told Jake," she declared.  "He thought it was funny.  Or silly, I guess."

"I called it a love letter, and he told me that you'd called it that, too," Heather sighed.  "He thought that was funny – that you and I both immediately called it a love letter.  And then by the end of our conversation, I'd gotten him calling it a love letter, but probably he was just trying to make me happy."

"I don't think that's it at all.  He means it, Honey," the older woman insisted.  "He's not just telling you what you want to hear."  Jake had said that that was what he was afraid of: that Heather would think he was agreeing to have a child because it was what she wanted, and not what he truly wanted for himself – for them as a couple; as a family.  But Gail had recognized the sincerity and the nervous excitement in her son's voice.   "He means it.  I'm certain of that.  And maybe coming around to saying 'love letter' is because he wants you to be happy, but he means it when he says he's ready to have a child.  Well, a 'kid'," she chuckled.  "He said he was afraid you wouldn't believe him if he'd said – written – 'baby'."

"He's probably right.  He's just always said 'kid'," Heather complained, allowing a small smile at the same time she shook her head.  "But there's a small chance that I may have found the one way there is to get Jake Green to say 'baby'," she admitted, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.  "Only time will tell." 

Gail – noting her daughter-in-law's suddenly uncomfortable expression – refrained from inquiring as to exactly how she'd convinced Jake to use the word 'baby', instead commenting, "Jake is much more comfortable with babies than I would have thought.  At the baptism, when we saw him with Megan, Johnston and I were both so surprised."

"I don't think he'd been around many babies before he met me," Heather offered.  "Dale and Bonnie, I guess—"

His mother had nodded in confirmation.

 "—but obviously no one ever made him hold a baby because the first time I made him do it – well, he told me he'd never had to hold one before.  And oh my gosh, he was pretty scared about it," she giggled.  She stopped herself and took a deep breath.  "Not that it's funny.  But it was a little funny."

"I would have probably thought that was funny myself," Gail offered.

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose," she assured her mother-in-law.  "I was just holding Hannah, and then Mandy and Deb needed me for something, so I handed her off to him."

"It seems to have been good for him," Gail laughed.  "Clearly.  He seemed quite at home with Megan in his arms.  And it was such a wonderful thing to see."

* * *

She and Johnston had joined Heather and Jake in Buffalo on a whim.  Touched that Kerry had invited them – and had sent a handwritten note, explaining that she'd thought they might be interested in participating in this event that was not only important to the Lisinski family but also to their son – Gail still hadn't expected her husband to agree as readily as he had.  But Johnston had surprised her, telling her to book their plane tickets and making an offhand comment about how, maybe, one day they'd get to be the grandparents, but that for now, this was about the next, best thing.  Initially, Gail had worried that Eric would mind them abandoning him on his birthday, but he'd taken it in stride, and then he and April had decided to spend the weekend in Topeka with her parents, sisters, and nephew.   

It had been Johnston's first time in Buffalo, but as always, the Lisinski clan had been open and welcoming, accepting their presence without question.  And Johnston and Joe had been happy to renew their friendship, already well-established through email and a running internet dominoes match and nurtured through Joe's at least yearly visits to Kansas to see his daughter and son-in-law.  The weekend had been eye-opening for both Gail and Johnston.  Somehow at the baptism itself, Jake – rather than Heather – had ended up holding Megan while the priest had given his charge to them as her godparents.  Then, at the reception afterward, Jake and Heather had made their rounds, catching up with Heather's large, extended family, and all the while, little Megan had been tucked into the crook of Jake's arm.  Gail – and Johnston too – had observed all of this in silent amazement.

At one point a few hours into the open house, Joe Lisinski, catching John coming downstairs with his freshly diapered baby had insisted that he get his turn with his granddaughter.  Gail – who had been reading a book with Hannah and Gabby Lisinski – had listened in as Megan's two Grandpa Joes (Kerry's father was also named Joseph) had teased Johnston.

"You know, you really need to look into getting one of these for yourself, Johnston," Joe Lisinski had advised, pressing a kiss to the infant's forehead before transferring her into the other man's arms. 

"They're the best," Joe Burke had agreed, making a face at his granddaughter. 

"Well, hello there, Sweetheart," Johnston had crooned, jiggling the baby in his arms.  Getting her settled, he'd offered the other two men a slight smile.  "Lookin' forward to it," he'd told them.  "Not that my kids seem to be in much of a hurry in that department."

"I dunno," Joe Lisinski had returned, cocking his head toward the dining room where Heather and Jake were supervising a "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" tournament involving seven or eight kids.  "I think those two may just surprise us someday soon."

"And until then," Joe Burke had suggested, "This little girl seems to have more than enough smiles to share for three grandpas."

* * *

"I always find myself thinking about the future when Jake is holding a baby," Heather admitted, beaming at her mother-in-law.  "And obviously he survived holding a baby for the first time.  And now he's gotten pretty good at it," she giggled. 

"Not so much the future, Sweetheart.  Maybe right around the corner."

"I hope so," Heather sighed.  "But it also turns out that Mikey told him that if you're holding a baby or just generally amusing the kids, everyone figures you're already busy and they don't ask you to do other things," she explained.  "When Jake finally told me that, I realized just how long Mikey'd been getting out of stuff using that ploy.  I mean, he was only twelve and a half when Rebekah was born, so he's pretty much always been able to finagle out of setting the table if he wanted to."

"I've always found Michael to be helpful when I've asked," Gail defended.  She liked all of her daughter-in-law's family, of course, but Joe and Michael were the two she'd spent the most time with.  And having first become acquainted with Michael only about a year after his mother's death, she'd quickly recognized how he'd seemed to crave and soak up any motherly affection that came his way, hers included.  Certainly, Heather's younger brother occupied that same special place in her heart that held her sons, daughters-in-law, nieces, nephews, the Richmonds, Dale Turner, and many others.  "But I suppose I have seen him be given a pass because he was carrying someone piggyback in the moment."

"Exactly," her daughter-in-law declared, chuckling.  "Which is what Jake figured out for himself.  And he really is great with kids."  Gail couldn't help but smile at the wistful expression that had replaced Heather's blush.  "And with babies.  Even if he's sometimes allergic to the word.  He's going to be a great dad – an amazing dad.  And none of this 'okay dad' stuff," she grumbled.

"I told him the same thing," Gail said, smiling.  "Because he wants to be much more than an okay dad.  He wants to be a great dad.  Which I didn't always expect from Jake.  For Jake," she admitted, "And that makes me very happy."

"He's going to be," Heather insisted, smiling in return.  "I just know it."

"I agree," her mother-in-law said, reaching for and then squeezing her hand.  "And I suppose I should come clean and let you know that I read your love letter.  Jake said I could," she continued in a rush of breath, "He said it would be hard not to read it, and he wanted me to be sure that the whole transmission came through."

Heather nodded.  "That's okay.  I'm glad that you were the one who got it and not someone at the florists.  Not that they'd tell anyone, but still."  She took a deep breath and turned so she was facing Gail directly.  "One of the reasons I got here early was so I could talk to you about all of this," she confided.  "Before April got here.  I'm – I'm not gonna tell her right away, probably not before I go to Hawaii."

"I see," the older woman murmured in acknowledgment.  "Sweetheart, I don't—"

"She's going through a lot right now," Heather interrupted, "And it's all about not getting pregnant.  Besides, who knows if I'll get pregnant right away?  Maybe she'll still get pregnant first and it won't matter."

"I can understand that," Gail sighed.  "And even Jake said that he didn't think he should send that particular love letter through April.  Not that I minded being his accomplice in this instance," she repeated.  "But you do know that when you get pregnant, even if it's before April, she's going to be happy about it," she reminded her daughter-in-law.  "Happy for you and for Jake."

"I know," she acknowledged.  "But it's not like I'm planning to tell anyone else right now either.  Nothing has changed yet except that I'm not gonna take a birth control pill tonight," she declared, an obstinate note ringing in her tone.  "Or for the foreseeable future.  And I'm really not planning to tell anyone else," she repeated, the set of her mouth telegraphing that her mind was made up.  "I talked to Mandy for a really long time this afternoon, and I didn't tell her.  And I talked to Andy and Deb on the drive here, and I didn't tell them either." 

"Oh dear," Gail murmured, allowing a self-conscious chuckle.  "Well, I suppose I better just be up front and let you know that I told Johnston about the love letter.  Not the details of what Jake wrote," she assured her daughter-in-law immediately.  "But that you and Jake had been discussing having a child, and that Jake had sent me the letter so I could take it to the florists and have it delivered to you.  But I will be sure to swear him to secrecy as soon as I'm home tonight," she promised.

Heather's eyebrows shot up in question and amusement quirked her smile.  "Okay, but I can't actually imagine that he'd tell anyone.  And I know he wouldn't say anything to me."

"He won't," her mother-in-law confirmed.  "Johnston wouldn't want to risk embarrassing you.  He'll just be pleased as punch to find out someday soon that he's going to be a grandpa."

"Well, it might not be that soon," Heather reasoned, "I mean, I hope so, but….  I'm not really going to tell anyone else quite yet.    My dad next, probably, and I'll wait 'til I'm in Buffalo to tell him.  Which is another thing I need to talk to you about," she realized, her expression turning serious.  "I am, like, ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain I'm gonna go to Buffalo after Hawaii."  She paused, frowning to herself.  "I don't – I don't think I want to just come home after that, and I want to spend some time with Mikey, maybe help my dad take him to medical school.  I was going to go with them to move him into the dorm at Geneseo five years ago, but then I took the job here and instead he helped me move to Jericho.  Which – of course – I'm totally happy I did, but still."

"I'm very happy that you did as well," her mother-in-law smiled.  "And I think that is a great idea, Honey."

"And you're okay if I leave Baron with you for a month or five weeks?" Heather questioned, her tone doubtful.  "I don't want to put you out."

"An extra few weeks to practice being a grandmother to my grandpuppy?" Gail teased, "I'm happy to do it.  And I promise, I'm not going to be an overbearing grandmother or mother-in-law, but I am very excited about what's coming for all of us," she added, beaming at her daughter-in-law.  "Jake told me I wasn't allowed to be excited – that I had to act normal – until you got the letter.  I tried very hard to do as he asked, but now, I am just going to admit it: I am very excited.  So, I'll happily look after your puppy for you, for as long as you need."

"You're not overbearing," Heather denied, "You couldn't possibly be.  Not as a mother-in-law or a future grandmother.  And – at least for our kids – you're gonna be their only grandmother.  So, I officially request that you be prepared to be a doubly amazing grandma, okay?" she asked, giggling softly.

"I will happily take on that challenge," Gail smiled, chuckling along with the younger woman.

"Just maybe don't be excited in front of April," Heather cautioned, "At least not yet."  Her mother-in-law nodded, and she joined in, mirroring the gesture.  "And, honestly, I don't want to come home right after spending sixteen days with Jake, and be here without him, waiting to find out if I'm pregnant," she admitted, sighing.  "But if I go to Buffalo, I get to spend time with everybody – I get to be 'Auntie Heather' – and I think that'll be better, whichever way it goes."

"I think it's a great idea," Gail repeated.  "A nice distraction for you, especially the 'Auntie Heather' part.  Though you might not know you're pregnant quite that soon," she warned.  "I didn't know I was pregnant with the boys until I was more than two months along.  Of course, we had just moved to Jericho, and I was trying to figure out how I was going to set up housekeeping in a two-story, four-bedroom house, coming from our little three-room student apartment.  Sometimes, I think I got pregnant because I forgot to think about getting pregnant," she laughed.

Heather frowned at that.  "You'd been trying to get pregnant for a while?" she asked, "I just always thought you waited until you graduated KU and then got pregnant.  Like literally, you graduated and got pregnant."  She had heard her father-in-law's claim that Jake and Eric had been conceived over graduation weekend more than once.  He particularly seemed to enjoy dropping that tidbit into the conversation at those times when it was certain to cause the maximum amount of discomfort for both his sons.

"We weren't opposed to having a child while we were still at KU, that's all," Gail answered, mentally kicking herself for her slip of tongue. Unless and until it happened, there was no point in worrying about Heather and Jake having trouble starting their family, and the last thing she wanted right now was to send her daughter-in-law's thoughts – unnecessarily – down that unproductive path.  "Though in hindsight, I'm grateful that we weren't dealing with twins in that little apartment.  And no reason to believe it would have been twins if we'd had a baby earlier," she argued.  "Certainly, it – or they – wouldn't have been Jake and Eric.  So, it all worked out for the best."

"Definitely," her daughter-in-law confirmed.  "I don't like to think about the worlds where Jake doesn't exist.  But perhaps I'm a little biased," she joked.  "And Eric, too, of course."

"Well, I'm also a little biased," Gail declared, "And very much in favor of the world in which I got to be the mother of Jake and Eric.  And I was glad, too, that Johnston insisted that we buy the house we did.  I thought it was too large," she confided.  "It's bigger than the house I grew up in, and there were eight in my family.  But Johnston liked it," she continued, "Said we were going to fill it up with family," she sighed.  "Which we did.  And EJ insisted on gifting us the down payment, as a graduation present.  And, I think," she added a beat later, "As an added incentive to move to Jericho."

"That's probably where he got the idea for leaving us the ranch house, and paying off April and Eric's mortgage from," Heather realized.  "The precedent anyway."

"EJ has always been the most generous person I've ever known," Gail said, "With his family in particular.  And we'd been married more than six years by that point, so I thought I was used to how EJ was," she smiled.  "But I was still touched – astounded, really – that he would do that for us." 

"I can imagine," Heather murmured.  "That's how I felt when he invited us to live at the ranch."

"Well of course, because that's just how EJ was," Gail nodded.  "And I must admit, I was relieved that we were buying a house in town, and that Johnston was going to be teaching history, and not taking up farming," she confessed, emitting a wry chuckle.  "I wasn't sure I was cut out to be a farmer's wife.  I wasn't sure I was going to be a good mayor's wife either, but my overbearing mother-in-law was willing to coach me in that.  Probably so I wouldn't embarrass her."

"You are not overbearing," Heather repeated.  "I'm glad you're my mother-in-law, and just hope I don't embarrass you."

"Never, Sweetheart."

"And I know you must have thought I was being so melodramatic yesterday when I went on and on about how Jake wasn't ready to have a baby."  She groaned, closing her eyes.  "That is just so embarrassing."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise you," Gail told her.  "As for what I was thinking, well, I think that starting – having – a family is very important to you.  And your family with Jake – the decisions you two make about your family – are exactly that.  They are for you to figure out together.  Okay?"

"Okay," her daughter-in-law agreed.  "How overbearing of you."

"Well, I'm still going to insist on Sunday family dinner," Gail said.  "And I hope you will consider Johnston and me as your babysitters of first resort."

"Of course!"

"But other than that, you just let me – us – know when and where you need us."

"1-800-GRANDMA," Heather joked.

"Yes, I like that," her mother-in-law smiled.  "You know," she began a moment later, "When Jake was a little boy, about eight I think—"

A titter escaped Heather, halting Gail mid-sentence.  "Sorry," she apologized, "It's just this, like, inside joke between Jake and me."

"Yes?" her mother-in-law inquired, her expression a mixture of amusement and consternation.

"I always tell him he can't always be eight in every story he tells me about his childhood, that's all," Heather explained, shrugging.

"But I remember," Gail insisted, "And he was eight."

"And I believe you," the younger woman rushed to assure her.  "I believe him too.  Kinda.  I mean, I believe that he thinks he must have been eight.  But I also think he thinks I like eight-year-olds best of all.  Which is not true.  I like all kids," she argued.  "And I'm gonna love our kids.  I already do, and they don't exist."

That drew a smile from Gail.  "Me too," she murmured.  "And they will."

Nodding in agreement, Heather prompted, "So, Jake was eight."

"Eight and a half," his mother clarified.  "It was summertime – August – about a week after my birthday.  The boys' Little League team was in the championship game, and we were leaving the next day for the Grand Canyon.  That's how I know how old he was, by where we were heading for our summer vacation.  Anyway, Jake pitched the entire game, all six innings, and they won," she grinned. 

Heather grinned in return.  "Awww!  You must've been so proud."

"I certainly was.  And Johnston was maybe a smidge prouder than me," Gail chuckled.  "Johnston enjoys sports more than I do.  I went to games all those years so I could cheer for my boys, Stanley included.  If Dale were a sports kid, I'd still be over at the High School, cheering him on," she sighed.  "But Johnston, he paid attention to all of it – he understood in his bones Jake's accomplishment, and he was so proud of him.  Of Eric, too.  He got a run in that game, so we were proud of them both," she declared. 

"Anyway, we were in the car, headed home to Jericho – following EJ and Betsy – planning to all go for ice cream when we got back to town.  I had so much to do before we left in the morning, I figured I would be up all night, but I didn't care.  Johnston and Eric were chattering away, telling each other about every play in the game," she described, "And I looked back at the boys – at Jake – and he was just sitting there, trophy in his lap, looking mildly pleased about everything.  But honestly, he was barely smiling."

"So, I asked him if he was excited.  He'd just pitched a winning game!  Won the championship!" Gail recalled.  "He actually seemed confused by the question.  And I only wanted him to – to be proud of his accomplishment," she decided.  "Not even as much as we were, really.  But he deserved to be proud of himself.  And then he said to me, so quietly and seriously, 'I'm excited on the inside, Mom'."

"Oh my."

"I can still hear him saying that, twenty-five years – almost – later.  In his sweet little boy voice.  I never wanted my boys to stop growing up, but I was still sad when their voices changed," she admitted.  "And there was something about his voice when we talked on Sunday, about your love letter, that took me back to that moment.  He's excited on the inside.  And the outside.  He's just excited period." 

Heather's eyes were bright once more, but she made no move to wipe away the tears pooled there.  They were, as Gail had said, happy tears.  Smiling, she nodded.  "Me too."

"There's a bible verse," Gail started again.  "And I know that is quite the segue."

"That is a segue worthy of me," her daughter-in-law giggled.

"Truly," Gail returned, chuckling.  "But there's a bible verse that always struck my fancy.  And it's from the nativity story and I know the way I've taken it to heart, well, I've maybe taken some liberties with the theology, shall we say?  Anyway, here goes.  'But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart,'" she quoted. 

Heather's smile widened.  "I've always liked that one too," she confided, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing over her mother-in-law's use of the word 'ponder'.  There was no way she was explaining to the older woman how that had become a joke between Jake and herself.  "It's very lyrical."

"It is," Gail agreed.  "And I know that it's about Mary not fully understanding who or what Jesus was – and that's when he was still just a baby.  But it caught my ear when I was a teenager – long before I really thought about being a mother myself – and it struck me as a very good definition of motherhood.  The experience.  That raising children… sometimes all you can do is treasure your time with them – well, treasure them – and ponder it all in your heart." 

"I love that."

"So, one more segue," Gail confessed, "But then I think it all comes together."

"Okay," her daughter-in-law declared gamely.

"You probably do know what you were doing five years ago today," the older woman sighed, smiling when Heather confirmed her suspicion with a nod.  "But I can only make an educated guess.   It was a week – ten days – before Eric and April's wedding, of course, so Karen and I were on the phone fifteen, twenty times a day at that point.  It was also before we knew about what Jake was really doing with the whole Jonah Prowse debacle," she reminded, "So, I was worrying about him, pretty much constantly.  I was also trying to get ahold of him, and I finally did, the night before everything happened."

Gail paused, recalling how surreal that thirty-hour period had been.  She'd been phoning her son for days, only reaching his voicemail's system greeting time and again.  Finally, about nine o'clock on Sunday night, Jake had answered her call.  He'd been distracted, almost short with her, and that had stung her deeply.  Frustrated, she'd barked back at him, telling him that he'd better find a way to be at his brother's wedding or he'd never forgive himself.  "I put you down for the beef – prime rib, in fact – at the reception.  Even if you can't see that you need to be there, just come for the food."

"What's my plus one get?" he'd asked, annoyance coloring his tone. 

"Half your meal," she'd retorted, despising herself for the uncharitable thought she had had in that instance about the type of woman who would agree to be her son's "plus one" given his current circumstances.  "You haven't bothered to share your address with us, it's not like we could send you an invitation.  We certainly didn't include a 'plus one' for you in the planning."

"I'll try and be there, Ma," he'd muttered, a long, painful moment later.  "No promises."

"Goodbye, Jake," she'd returned, her throat tightening and choking off the words she had wanted to say – to remind him of: 'I love you'.

Twenty-nine hours later, in the Fillmore County Hospital ER, he'd fallen into her arms, croaking out, "Sorry, Ma, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jake," she'd crooned, holding his head to her breast, and kissing his hairline.  "You're safe, Jake.  I love you, Honey."

"Sor—sorry 'bout the other night," he'd mumbled, closing his eyes as she'd begun to comb her fingers through his hair.  "I'll be there.  Promise."

"But even once we knew that it was all just a – a set up," she decided, "I still didn't have hopes like this for Jake.  For Eric, yes.  He was about to get married, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to be a father, but I gave up on that dream for Jake.  At least for myself," Gail clarified.  "I made a bargain with God that if he'd just keep him safe, I didn't need anything else for Jake.  I was like you, Sweetheart, I just wanted him safe."

Biting her lip, Heather acknowledged this with a sharp nod, finally wiping her eyes as the tears spilled over. 

"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry," Gail tutted, digging into her purse again for the tissue packet.  She handed it to her daughter-in-law.  "I didn't mean to upset you.  I'm just so thankful that Jake – and you – get to have everything I was willing to bargain away if I could just have my son.  I thought that I could be content with the occasional phone call, knowing that at least he was okay.  I thought I could have lived with that.  I told myself I could live with that.  But I'm glad none of us have to."       

"I do want him to be safe, but I want all the rest, too," Heather declared softly.  "I want – I want Jake home most of the time, and I want to have babies who grow into eight-year-old Little Leaguers who win championships and trophies and then into teenagers, who'll probably mortify me at some point.  And I want Saturday morning pancakes and camping trips and date nights that you can babysit for."

"That last one is especially important," Gail joked, "At least to me."

"I knew you would appreciate that," the younger woman smiled. 

"I do.  And it's exactly what I want for you both," her mother-in-law assured her.  "For Eric and April, too."

"It's not selfish?" Heather asked, frowning softly.  "At least a lit—"

Behind them, the bell on the restaurant's door tinkled and they both looked over expecting to see April, instead spotting Gray Anderson, co-owner of S&A Mining, Jericho's largest employer and Johnston Green's opponent in the previous two mayoral elections.  He made eye contact with Gail, nodding in acknowledgment before Nona Rossi appeared to conduct him immediately into the dining room.

"Johnston thinks the closure of The Pizza Garden has put a real crimp in Gray's restaurant rotation," she confided in her daughter-in-law, chuckling.  "And it is hardly selfish to want to be a mother, Sweetheart.  Or for wanting to have your husband 'home most of the time'.  There is nothing selfish about having dreams and then working to make them a reality."

Heather nodded, offering Gail a small smile.  "Yeah, okay."

"If anyone was selfish, it was me, trying to bargain with God about Jake," Gail decided.  "Though, luckily, God didn't take me up on it."

"I don't think that was selfish," Heather argued.  "You were worried about him because you love him."

"Yes," her mother-in-law agreed.  "But that is where I think all my segueing comes together," she chuckled.  "I love him, and I've always wanted what was best for Jake – and for Eric – since, well, before I knew they existed."  The two women exchanged smiles, and Gail continued.  "But once Jake was working for Jonah Prowse, I was so afraid for him.  And that's where my bargaining came from, from worry and fear.  And that is selfish.  To give into that.  I know my son – my sons.  I should have questioned more.  I should have known that he hadn't turned his back on everything we'd taught him—"

"Jake's good at his job," his wife interjected.  "At least that's what he tells me," she grumbled.  "Sorry, that's another sort of joke we have.  Since I don't get to see him doing his job.  Ever.  But it was his job to fool you into believing he was that person.  So, if you were afraid for him because you believed it, then he was being good at his job," she reasoned.  Heather reached for the other woman's hand and squeezed it. "I know he hated it.  Having to lie to you, breaking your trust.  He told me about everything that had happened on our first date and how much he'd hated having to do that." 

"And yet you still went on a second date with him," Gail teased, though her smile flipped to a frown, betraying her mixed feelings.

"Yeah," Heather murmured.  "Well, I really liked him, so not much chance I was gonna turn him down.  And he trusted me with all of that.  It was pretty intense for a first date, but…." She trailed off for a moment before proclaiming, "Of course, I went out with him again."

"Well, I'm very glad you did.  And how about we agree that neither of us is selfish?" Gail proposed, tightening her grip on her daughter-in-law's fingers for a second before letting go.  Heather nodded.  "And I am so glad I was wrong.  Because there was a period of time there – a couple of months I'd say – that I was so relieved that he wasn't that – that person, that I forgot to hope for – well – hope for everything for him.  But I am so glad that you and Jake will get to build your family together.  And that I get to be the grandma."

"Me too!" her daughter-in-law giggled before clarifying, "That I'm gonna get to be a mom.  Not a grandma.  Not for a long time anyway.  And of course, I'm glad that you're gonna be my kids' grandma."

The restaurant's door opened again, the bell clanging this time, as April rushed in, calling out to them almost before she had both feet in the building, "Sorry I'm late."

Gail and Heather stood up, moving across the lobby to meet her in the middle.  "It's five-thirty-nine, you're in plenty of time," their mother-in-law decided, glancing at her watch.  "Besides, it looks like – so far – it's just us and Gray Anderson for dinner tonight."

"The Green women and Gray Anderson?  That sounds like a quirky title for a movie or a book," April joked as she pulled Gail in for a quick hug.  "And Happy Birthday, again," she continued, turning to embrace Heather.  "I see you got your big present," she teased, gesturing at the necklace her sister-in-law wore.

"I hope this is my big present.  And the last one," Heather groaned, her hand automatically moving to the pendant so she could trace the 'infinity love knot' with her index finger.

"It's absolutely gorgeous," April smiled.  "And it was the last thing I was involved in, so if there's more, I'll be just as surprised as you are.  But I did get to officially sign off on the fact that that is a beautiful necklace," she explained, "So Dalton and Sons could get paid."

"Thank you for that," Heather acknowledged.  "And I should tell you that you have won two-thirds to three-quarters of our bet.  He sent me three dozen roses, but only half of them were red."

"So, we're going riding on Thursday and Friday," April surmised.  "Good.  You're still joining us, right Mom?"

"For Thursday," Gail confirmed, laughing, "I'm going to need to wait and see about Friday."

Nona Rossi reappeared then, exclaiming, "Buon compleanno, Mrs. Green!  And you are all here, yes?" 

"Yes," Heather confirmed, adding, "And please, call me Heather."

Nona Rossi looked a little scandalized by this, reminding her, "But you are the teacher for my Matteo.  And next year for my Sophia," she said, naming two of her four grandchildren. 

"You're just going to have to accept it, Heather," Gail chided her daughter-in-law, chuckling.  "You are the main 'Mrs. Green' around here."

"I guess," the younger woman muttered, falling into step with April as Nona Rossi led the three of them into the dining room.

"So, what color were the other half of your roses?" April inquired, looping her arm through Heather's.

"Two colors," she answered.  "Overall, half red, a quarter yellow, and a quarter white."

"Intriguing.  What does that mean?" April wanted to know.

"TBD," Heather replied.  "Lots of potential meanings actually," she admitted, patting her sister-in-law on the shoulder as they arrived at their C-shaped booth.  She pulled away, sliding into the middle.   "But I've already warned Jake that we are discussing exactly what he meant during our last phone call tonight."

"Well, I expect a full report back," April informed her.  "Tomorrow.  Or better yet," she decided, glancing at their mother-in-law, "Tell us all about it on Thursday."

Heather nodded.  "I can do that."

"So," April continued, flipping open her menu, "What are we all having?"

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

Wednesday June 7, 1:37 am (Baghdad Iraq)/Tuesday June 6, 4:37 pm (Denver CO)

3 and a half months before the bombs

"You done?" Ange Waller inquired, peering closely at her laptop screen and the image of Jake Green displayed thereon.  He looked tired – exhausted, really – and he had just completed an obscenity-laden rant given in answer to the (in Ange's opinion) rather innocuous question of "How's it going?"

"No," he grumped before launching into part two, concluding some forty seconds later by barking the same curse (his favorite, she presumed) seven times in a row before shoving away from the table – away from his laptop's camera – and tipping his chair up on its back legs while crossing his arms over his chest.  "Now I'm done," he muttered.  "Maybe."

"Let me try a different question," Ange suggested.  "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Fucking hell, Ange, I fucked up and then I dragged Heather into it.  So now she's totally freaked out," he complained, letting the chair drop back onto its front legs with a loud thunk.  "But I fixed things with her.  I think.  I dunno," he mumbled, breaking eye contact, his gaze fixated on his lap.  "You know, when she was a kid, her brother Tommy taught her a hundred-fifty-seven-word curse?  So, now we have a deal that she can never tell it to me.  But goddamn, I'd like to know it right now."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'd guess you got pretty close on the word count," she informed him dryly.  "And I actually did know that," she added, "About Heather memorizing the curse to end all curses when she was a kid."

"How?" he demanded, his brow furrowing as he leaned back in close to the laptop.

"We're both only girls in large, Catholic families," she shrugged.  "Trust me, there's just something that pings in our heads when we meet someone else who grew up in that.  Pretty sure she told me that particular story, probably, thirty-six hours into our newfound phone friendship."

"'Newfound phone friendship'?" he quoted, smirking into the camera.  "That's Heather," he mumbled, "Loves alliteration."

"That was her," Ange agreed, "But I liked it, thought it was cute.  She was very worried about you getting home before your grandfather passed.  Which meant I was worried about you getting home before your grandfather passed.  And about going into labor before I knew you were headed home," she explained.  "Which luckily I didn't.  But anyway, 'newfound phone friendship' was a needed bit of levity.  As was comparing the worst things our brothers ever did."

"Christopher's birthday is February first?" Jake asked, "Or the second?"

"The first.  I refused to have a Groundhog's Day baby for many reasons," she returned, laughing softly.  "I told the labor and delivery nurse that, and she told us to start walking, so we did.  Up and down the hospital corridor for six hours.  He was born at nine twenty-one PM."

"And I made it home in time," he reminded her.  "With two and a half days to spare.  Gramps died on the first, coupl'a hours before Christopher was born.  He'd appreciate the symmetry in that.  The circularity, whatever."

"The circle of life?  Death and birth?"

"Yeah," he nodded, yawning.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened, Jake?" she prompted again.  "That freaked Heather out?  That's got you so angry with yourself?"

"I sent her three presents for her birthday, two that the other Jake Green could take credit for and one that he sure as hell can't afford.  And the one that he can't afford was bein' delivered to the house this afternoon.  I emailed her about it and said she should be home to get it," he explained in an achingly neutral monotone.  "I sent that email early this morning – early for her and you, I mean.  So then, I called her after school, after she got her second present – I sent her roses, but I always get her roses for her birthday – and we talked a long time.  I guess she lost track of time.  I did too.  So, she freaked out because she thought she was late to meet the delivery and she said that, but we were on my regular cell phone and—"

He broke off, heaving a frustrated sigh.  "Fuck," he muttered.  "I was able to cover for her.  I acted like she was hiding from me that her dad was sending her something and she played along.  I think it would make sense if they're monitoring my communications.  But still," he continued, his tone caustic, "Who knows?  Maybe I get to the yard in four hours, and someone puts a bag over my head and that's it."

"Do I need to pull you, Jake?" Ange demanded, her pulse racing.  They had been academy classmates, both trained for undercover work, but she had given up that career path when she'd gotten pregnant.  And she had never taken the type of long term, deep cover assignment that Jake had successfully managed more than a few times.  Still, there was a certain kind of gallows humor statement a covert agent would only make to another covert agent – to someone who knew what it was like to be in that situation – and everything he was saying could just be that.  Maybe he was blowing off steam.  The slip sounded innocuous enough to her, and he said he'd fixed it.  But it could also be more than that, and she had to figure out what exactly he was telling her – and if there was anything he wasn't telling her but should be. 

"You're in the safehouse – saferoom, anyway," she corrected, offering him a grim smile.  "You can just stay put.  It'll take me a few hours, but I can work with the Army to get you outta there before the end of tomorrow—"

"You don't need to pull me," he interrupted.  "It's under control.  Promise.  I've put a lot into this op.  I wanna see it through, Ange."

"I get that," she acknowledged.  "Just remember that my first responsibility is to get you home, so you can get to work on your very important project," she smiled.

"So, we might've finished discussing that, and moved onto the – I dunno—"

"Action phase?" she supplied, her grin growing.  "Good for you guys."

"Yeah.  More like pre-action at least, until….  But we're gonna see what happens in Hawaii," he allowed.  "That's where we're going for our anniversary."

"I'm officially jealous," Ange declared.  "Fishing in Montana has been postponed in favor of two weeks with Steve's sisters and their families in Rehoboth.  And somehow I said that with a straight face even though the first time I was east of the Mississippi I was twenty, and I sure as hell never knew Rehoboth was a real place until I had to."

"You sure it's a real place?" Jake returned, his expression turning quizzical.  "'Cause I'm not.  But you can't go by me," he conceded, "I'm just a kid from Kansas who didn't get to see the ocean 'til he was ten, so whadda I know?"

"Well, apparently you know that Rehoboth is a beach town."

"Must've read it somewhere," he deflected.  "And I hope you made her grovel, Ange."

"Not exactly," she sighed.  "But she called me and apologized and then issued a personal invitation.  Claimed it was meant to be when our vacation weeks and their weeks coincided.  Said that they all really wanted to finally get to know me.  And Christopher.  Which… they're his family, too, right?  So, we'll see."

"Just don't let her give you any shit," Jake advised, joking, "'Cause I'm pretty sure that's my job.  And if you hafta take it, you might as well get paid for it."

"Yeah, but they also pay me to shovel it right back atcha," she chuckled.  "Speaking of: sleep check?  Nutrition check?"

"Got five hours," he reported dutifully, "After eating the grossest vegetable medley ever assembled, okay?  Doubt it was nutritious, but it was the best I could do here."

"Okay," she declared, her tone shifting from chatty back to officious, "I not gonna pull you now.  But for me – actually, how 'bout we say 'for Heather'? – when you report in later today, keep your phone in your hand just in case, okay?"

On her screen, Jake nodded.  His unsecured phone was a regular cell phone with one modification; on the side, in the seam, there was a "panic button" he could trigger by pressing his thumbnail against it for five seconds should he ever need to summon the cavalry.  "Wilco, Waller," he said, throwing her a mock salute.  "And you know, I got my dental work ahead of this one.  Gretchen'd been after me for years."    

"I did know that.  It's in your file," she reminded him.  "The one that Gretchen turned over to me when she turned you over to me."

The previous December, ahead even of acing the job interview with Ravenwood, Gretchen had insisted that he finally get his molar implant.  It wasn't foolproof by any means, but it provided one more last-ditch option for retrieving him if things really went south with the operation.  "Just like Lo-Jack," she'd told him, as had the dentist who had performed the procedure, although that man had at least followed up with: "Not really, but it's a good analogy."

"Yeah, so, I did it," he muttered, "And now…."  He trailed off, looking away from the camera, shaking his head.  "They're pulling this damn thing out as soon as I'm home," he informed her. 

Ange saw his cheek bulge on the right side and guessed that he'd run his tongue over the offending addition to his mouth.  "That can be arranged," she assured him.

"This is my last operation," he told her, his gaze once again catching hers across the miles that separated them.  "Where I'm the one in the field at least.  I could maybe—"  He shook his head again.  "I can't – I won't do this to Heather again, and besides we're gonna try and have a kid.  You should be there for your kids," he insisted, frowning.  "You can't just tell a kid that you'll see 'em in three or four months, right?  Five months," he muttered.  "So, once I'm not here, I don't wan' it.  You guys don't get to keep tabs on me forever."

"Once you don't need it, I will personally make the arrangements to remove it, okay?" she promised.  "I mean, I won't personally remove it, but you know what I mean.  I'll make sure it gets scheduled.  And I hope the Wallers are still invited to visit the Green Ranch.  Which is not about keepin' tabs, I swear.  It's just about the fact that we're all friends."

"Yeah, you're still invited.  I haven't told Heather yet, but she'll be all over it.  You're her 'newfound phone friend' turned 'real-life and on the ranch friend'."

"And that was some halfway decent alliteration," she grinned. 

"Well, I've had some practice," he chuckled.

"You would've," she acknowledged.  "Okay, I have another update for you on how we get you outta there in a hurry if we need to.  So, I've spent the last week making nice with Chief Warrant Officer Cabrillo.  He's not technically under Browning's command, but Browning's a Colonel, so there's still some deference there because he knows what's good for him.  Now Cabrillo – he's the JAG legal administrator over military police operations – he already had his suspicions about Ravenwood before Browning read him in, basically as you were arriving in Baghdad back in March.  And he was more than a little pissed that we've been running this op without him.  But once I explained that we were happy to work together – had been wanting to work together, but Browning maybe doesn't want to believe this is really happening, so….  Well, now I'm his new best friend.  Because he wants Ravenwood and Jennings and Rall outta Iraq – outta the whole damn Army if he can manage it."

"He's the one who's gonna come running if you hit the panic button," Ange continued, "Him, specifically.  And, if he needs to extract you in front of Ravenwood – hell, if he needs to storm in and grab you up before they can maim or kill you – well, that's what he's gonna do.  Plus, arrest you for drug trafficking.  So now, he and I are both keeping tabs on you from afar.  Phone.  Molar – but only if necessary.  And I'm glad to have him on the team, 'cause he's just a whole lot closer if something hits the fan." 

She watched as he assimilated this information.  "I don't hate it," he allowed, exhaling a long breath.  "Kinda like it, actually.  Preserves a lot of the op, even if I'm blown."

"You wouldn't really be blown, right?" she offered.  "The Army takes a problem off of Ravenwood's hands and thanks them for their help in catching one low-level drug dealer.  Cabrillo's already practicing his speech for that.  Says he can 'blow smoke up the asses of a bunch of contractors with the best of 'em'," she laughed, shaking her head.  "I have almost as much fun talking to him and I do talking to you." 

"Oh, so now you're two-timing me, huh?" he joked.

"Yeah, but still, everything I do, it's all for you," she returned, rolling her eyes.  "Gretchen and I are even thinking we might go through the motions of charging Fake Jake—"

He groaned loudly at that, stopping her mid-sentence.  "Never say that again," he ordered gruffly.  "And – so you know – that's exactly why you're not allowed to talk to my wife until this is all over.  'Cause you don't get to accidentally say that to her."

"'Fake Jake'?" she guessed, laughing quietly.  "C'mon.  You can't seriously think that hasn't occurred to Heather at some point," she reasoned.

"Hey, it surprises the hell outta me too," he claimed.  "But she's never said it to me, and trust me, there's no way if she'd thought of it, that she wouldn't have said it.  And as soon as she does think of it – or someone tells her – well, I get to spend the rest of my life talking about 'Fake Jake' and 'Not Fake Jake'.  Trust me on this," he repeated.  "It rhymes.  She'd never not think that wasn't the funniest thing she'd ever heard."

"You do know her best," Ange shrugged.

"On the deepest level," he murmured, the tension in his expression easing as the corners of his mouth turned up with the smallest of grins.  "Okay," he declared, nodding to himself.  "Military police take custody of me and transfer me back to the States and somehow get enough interest from the US Attorney to bring federal drug trafficking charges against me?  For penny ante stuff?  That's not exactly plausible."

"It's plausible enough," she countered.  "As a contractor, they can't charge you – the other you – under the UCMJ, and there isn't a state court with jurisdiction.  They aren't gonna throw you into the not exactly functional Iraqi court system, right?  So that leaves federal court.  Trust me, Cabrillo would find a way to make it happen if you really were some low stakes drug dealer.  You come home, and in the meantime your alter ego—"

"Fake Jake," he muttered.  "You can just say it.  'Fake Jake'."

"Only if you're sure," she replied, earning herself a not entirely amused snort.  "Okay, so Fake Jake is charged, pleads down to eighteen, twenty months, so there's a paper trail.  Maybe you hafta make a court appearance or two just in case Ravenwood is curious enough to send one of their lawyers to federal court.  And it's not you, it's—"

"Fake Jake," he repeated.  "And okay.  Long as I don't hafta serve his sentence."

"As if," she retorted.  "Gretchen and I take better care of you than that.  But hopefully, Ravenwood and J and R will just be glad that the guy they never actually got around to recruiting into their conspiracy is gonna take the fall for them.  Maybe it makes them a little more cautious for a bit. Gives us all time to take a deep breath before we start working on getting someone else in there," she told him.  "And hey, maybe you can handle that guy.  The new operative."

"If I can do it from Kansas, sure."

"And if your arrest makes 'em cocky because they're carrying out this giant smuggling operation under the Army's nose—"

"Using Army personnel," he added.

"Right," she agreed.  "But they've got this big operation going on and the Army scoops you up for some two-bit drug peddling that was – as you said – so penny ante that Ravenwood never even noticed that you were doing it?" she scoffed.  "That'd make anyone a little cocky, and we both know that criminals are more primed for cockiness than the general public."   

"Okay, I think this works," he decided, nodding his head in agreement.  "And thanks, Ange, for making nice with Chief Cabrillo, lining all that up.  And for keeping me in the loop."

"You're welcome," she assured him.  "Besides, it's my job and we're friends, right?  I'm not gonna let Cabrillo storm in and arrest you without warning you.  Even if – and this is really funny and really weird in the 'it's a small, small world' category of federal service – because it turns out that Cabrillo and my oldest brother, Al, went through basic training together at Fort Sill twenty-three years ago.  Somehow, during our first videoconference, he recognized me as Al Beltran's little sister Angie who he met once – when I was ten – back in the day.  I'm guessing he's one of those 'super recognizers'.  I mean, he apologized for knowing who I was.  Which was nice, because – frankly – it was a little creepy."

"Good skill for someone in law enforcement to have," Jake suggested.

She shot him an appraising look, inquiring a few seconds later, "Any chance that's a skill you have?"

"Sometimes," he conceded.  "Not sure I'd always recognize someone I'd only seen once when they were a kid, though.  Maybe I'm just a really good recognizer."

"Well, it is a good skill for law enforcement," she repeated, assimilating this piece of information into her mental profile of Agent Jake Green.  It made sense, she decided, in a surprisingly unsurprising way. 

"And maybe explains why he's running military police for all of Iraq," she continued, forcing herself to turn her concentration back to their conversation.  "I called Al up the other night to get the scoop.  Didn't give him any details of course, but he figured that I must have an asset on the ground.  He's in SIGINT, so it’s still really funny to him how similar our jobs turned out to be," she chuckled before adding, "Claims that when I was seven, I said I wanted to grow up to be him and now I have.  Anyway, Al says that Cabrillo is a straight shooter and that I can trust him.  We can trust him."   

"Well – haven't met your brother, but still – that's good enough for me," he declared, nodding absently.  He closed his eyes for a second before inhaling deeply.  "And I'm sorry for earlier," he apologized, blinking, his gaze unfocused.  "My goin' off.  All the cursing."

"You needed to vent.  And listenin' to you vent is part of my job."

"Right, but I still shouldn't swear at you," he returned.  "Heather'd kill me—"

"First, I didn't think you were swearing at me," she interrupted him.  "I know you're just frustrated with the situation, and especially that you got Heather tangled up in it and that she was worried she'd done something wrong.  Right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then; you were venting," she told him.  "And second… are you callin' me your work wife, Jake?" she teased, observing the frown that he quickly suppressed by pasting on the tightest and slightest of smiles.  Jake Green, she remembered belatedly, for all his flirtatious friendliness, truly was a one-woman man.  Improbably, and so unobviously, he was a wife guy. 

"I don't think you're my work wife," he countered, "You're more like my work April."

"I'm not sure what that means," Ange laughed, "Especially since it’s June, but okay."

"April's my sister-in-law.  Married to my brother, and Heather's best friend," he explained.  "My friend too, though for April, Heather comes first.  She'd totally slit my throat in a heartbeat," he declared, his tone almost approving, "If she thought that was best for Heather."

"Well, let's just agree that slitting your throat is always a last resort," she suggested, "Because I'm putting a lot of time and energy into to keeping your throat un-slit."

"Thanks," Jake yawned.  "And the 'in Heather's best interest' is the part you hafta keep in mind."

"As long as you keep it in mind, I think we're both good.  And I actually did know who April is, just not in that context," she informed him.  "And I hope I can live up to being your 'work April'."

"Doin' pretty good so far," he assured her.

"Thanks," she returned, just as she heard the small conference room's electronic door lock disengage.  They had a few of these ultra-secure videoconference rooms for meetings such as this one, and the room's lock was pre-programmed to only allow those invited to the meeting to enter.  The light over the door flashed in warning, confirming that the person on the other side was authorized to attend.  "Someone's joining us," she told Jake.  "Informal debrief over, official one about to begin."

"Well, I guess then we should stop talking about how Gretchen is my work mom," he announced loudly.

The door opened in time with Jake's declaration, admitting Gretchen Tolliver to the space.  She appeared unfazed by his teasing, rolling her eyes for Ange's benefit.  "Put him up on the screen if you would," she directed.  "It's been so long since I've laid eyes on my darling boy, after all."

Ange stood up, leaning over her laptop to reach a cable in the center of the table.  She plugged it into the VGA port, and instantly one of the two screens at the front of the room flickered to life, providing them with a larger than life-sized view of Jake Green.  The other screen also turned on, as did the cameras in the ceiling, giving them a view of themselves inside the conference room.  Someone had – helpfully – taped a hand-lettered sign above this screen that said: "They See This!"

"Jake, you look awful," Gretchen informed him, frowning as she seated herself across the table from Ange. 

"Nice to see you, too, Ma," he snorted in return. 

"I've met your mother, Jake.  I take the comparison as a compliment."

"Well, you should."

"And you still look like hell," she complained.  "You need to let us take more off your plate."

"I'm trying," he insisted.  "All the stuff that Ange and the Triplets have come up with is great.  We're runnin' with it, and tomorrow, I'll start laying the groundwork to kill Gramps off again.  And a month from now I'll be on my way to Hawaii.  I'll rest up there, okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what you're planning to do in Hawaii," the older woman chuckled, shaking her head at him.  "So, I take it we're discussing how Ange is your work wife?"

"Actually, I'm his work April," Ange interjected.  "You know that Jake only has room in his heart for one wife."

"That is true," Gretchen agreed.  "And April's the sister-in-law, so that's still high praise."

"I am here, you know," he called out, waving a hand at the camera to get their attention.  "I mean I can hear you."

"We're not allowed to admire the fact that you have good relationships with your female relatives?" Gretchen inquired.

"Apparently not," Ange decided, observing his scowl.  "Okay, Jake," she continued, checking her watch, "My kid gets here in ab—"

"Christopher's joining us?" Jake interrupted, seeming to perk up at this news.  "He still gets his corndog, right?  I'm kinda invested in him getting that corndog for dinner.  And the ice cream sandwich."

"He gets to have the corndog and the ice cream sandwich, I promise," Ange returned.

"Neapolitan?"

"Of course," she laughed.  "If I'm gonna resort to feeding my kid junk food, it's gonna be good junk food."  Ange glanced at their boss, explaining, "Originally we were going to do this call at six, and I was going to be at home—"

"Jake, do you mind having Christopher Waller in attendance for this meeting?" Gretchen inquired, cutting the other woman off.  "Sorry, Ange," she added only to have her apology waved off.

"Ange said I'd get to say 'hi' to him tonight, so he needs t' be here, right?  Besides, I've drafted all the Wallers onto the team," he answered.  "Steve's been consulting on some of the – uh – the financial documents the Triplets have put together."

"Yes, I know," Gretchen returned, offering a slim smile.  "And we appreciate the intra-agency cooperation, just as long as it's not followed up by the poaching of my analysts."

"He knows what happens if he tries," Ange assured the older woman.  "And Jake distracted him by inviting us to visit so Steve can learn about the horse business and maybe play cowboy for the day."

"For a week.  And I'm gonna get you and Christopher up on horses, too," Jake told her.

"Thanks, I think," Ange chuckled.  "But he is going to be here any minute now, so if you have any more venting to do, now's the time.  Mostly because my husband will never let me live it down if Christopher is f-bombing his aunts next month," she explained, "But also because the Triplets will be joining us, and I don't want you scaring them off.  They're excited to meet you.  You're like a folk hero to them.  Like Robin Hood or Viggo Mortensen's character in Lord of the Rings."

"Aragorn," he supplied, deciding, "I'm done venting."

"See?  I knew you were a closet nerd."

"Wha'-e-'er," he yawned into his hand before shaking his head as if to clear it.  "Don' you need t' get your kid?" he grumbled. 

"Oh, Mellie's picking him up for me," Ange dismissed.

"She can do that?" Jake asked, rolling his eyes at the twin amused grins he received in response.  "What?" he complained, "I'm married to a teacher who's gonna be the vice principal, I've heard about … it's important – it's important to – ya know – have a pick-up policy."

Ange's grin widened.  "'The importance of a pick-up policy', huh?" she teased, emphasizing each 'P' sound.  "I'm sure you've heard all about it."

"Heather's been promoted?" Gretchen added, "That's great news.  Please pass along my congratulations.  She always has been a smart cookie."

"Thanks," he acknowledged, blinking rapidly.

"You know, Ange," Gretchen began, catching the other woman's eye.  "The first time Jake told me about Heather—"

"She blackmailed me," Jake interrupted, drawing both women's gazes back to the screen his image was displayed on.  "Gretchen," he clarified, making a loud huffing sound.  "Not – not Heather."

"You blackmailed him?" Ange repeated, throwing the older woman a skeptical look.

"T' – to get me t' tell her about Heather."

"He'd been threatened with arrest at the Wichita airport, and I'd vouched for him," Gretchen explained.  "In the course of vouching for him, I became aware of the fact that he had a girlfriend.  Since I'd been awoken at five-thirty in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving, it seemed entirely reasonable to ask him to tell me about the new woman in his life.  And it was hardly blackmail.  I called him at least forty-five minutes after he was released from custody.  He didn't actually have to tell me anything."

"Yeah, right," he snorted, momentarily allowing his eyes to close.  "She said she knows what t' do – how t' – 'cause she's a teacher."

"I did think that someone who can manage a classroom of eight-year-olds likely had a good chance of being able to handle Jake Green," she confirmed.  "And I think I've been proven right.  They were engaged not even two months later.  I'm certainly not surprised that she's been promoted to vice principal."

"It's kinda a promotion," he muttered, "Kinda not.  She's still gonna be a teacher, jus' for eighty percent.  Vice principal's twenty percent."

"Still sounds like a promotion to me," Ange offered.

"Yeah, no, it is," Jake agreed, forcing himself to sit up in his chair.  "Just the no money, helluva lot more work kind.  But it's what she wants to do," he shrugged, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Well, I'm sure Heather is up to the challenge," Gretchen said.

"Yeah," he repeated, stretching his arms above his head.  "And Mrs. McVeigh – she's the principal.  She was principal when I was a kid.  She's gonna retire in a coupl'a years, so…."

"So, then they'll probably pick Heather to be principal, right?" Ange deduced.  "That's what you guys are hoping for, right?"

Jake nodded.  "That's the idea.  She needs to be principal before our kids get there or I'm gonna hafta take 'em to my cousin's wife's Janine's school, and that's twenty miles away."

"Ranch email Janine?" Ange inquired.  She glanced across the table at Gretchen, explaining, "If I need to leave Jake a voicemail on his cell, I'm going to be Janine Jones, his other favorite cousin.  Besides, Mellie, I mean."

"Always better to preserve a grain of truth," Gretchen nodded.  "But you don't want to go with Janine Gr—"  She cut herself off.  "No, I suppose not."

"It's Janine O'Brien, but we don't need to complicate things," Ange shrugged.  "And the next closest elementary school is twenty miles away?  Seriously?"

"Small town," he mumbled, his head tilting to the side for a second.  "You'll see when you guys come," he promised, allowing another yawn.  "Janine's kids go to her school, an' she's okay about it.  But Heather doesn't wanna do that.  Conflict of interest.  So…."

"She's probably right about that," Ange offered.  "That's sounds really awkward.  And, like, something out of Little House on the Prairie.  Being your own kid's teacher."

Slumping in his chair, Jake nodded.  "Like I said, small town.  My brother's vice mayor 'cause my dad's mayor.  An' okay for our kids to go to school if she's the principal, but not their teacher.  Hafta call her 'Mrs. Green'," he chuckled to himself before falling quiet for a long ten seconds.  "I bet she makes me do all the teacher meetings too," he realized, unknowingly cutting Ange off.  "Yeah, that'll be me," he frowned, "Just in case someone she's the boss of needs to deliver bad news."

"Heather's afraid that another teacher isn't gonna tell her your kid is failing math if she's there?" Ange chuckled.  "She's gonna know about it eventually."

"Our kid'll never fail math," he contradicted, shaking his head.  "English, if he takes after me.  Art if he takes after Heather.  Math should be good."  Jake's forced his bleary gaze to focus on his laptop's screen, taking in the bemused and indulgent expressions of his two colleagues.  "What?" he grumbled, glaring into the camera.

"I'm simply enjoying this glimpse of your supportive husband side, Jake, that's all," Gretchen claimed.  "It's something we don't see a whole lot of in our line of work."

"Kinda hard to be a s'pportive husband from seven thousand miles away," he countered.

"Understood," she acknowledged with a sigh.  "But that's why we're holding this strategy session.  So that we can wrap up this phase of the operation and get you home and you can be supportive from no miles away."

Jake scrubbed his hand over his face.  "September, Gretchen," he reminded her, allowing his eyes to close for a few seconds.

"Agreed.  End of September," his boss returned. 

"Not wha' we agreed."

"I know.  And perhaps we can re-evaluate in August."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, trying – and failing – to stifle yet another yawn.

"Would it help if you had some caffeine, Jake?" Ange questioned, frowning in sympathy.  He'd seemed fine when they had first gotten on their call.  But he'd been fired up then, ready to – needing to – rant, angry at himself and the situation he'd put Heather in.  He'd been in the middle of an adrenaline rush, she realized, and now he was coming off it, his energy starting to flag.  It was clear to her that he was exhausted, much as he'd reported to her in the self-assessment that she'd made him take the week before.  "There's supposed to be a 'stocked fridge' there for you, though I never did check into what 'stocked' means."

"Yeah, there's usually soda in there," he admitted.  "I jus' stick to water here, 'cause … the heat," he explained, lifting himself out of his chair.

"It would be helpful if you were awake for this meeting," Gretchen reminded him kindly. 

"Gettin' a soda, okay?" he grumbled moving out of the camera's range.  "And hey, if you gonna look into it, get me some good peanut butter."  Jake re-seated himself, uncapping a bottle of Coke as he did.  "Not the stuff that Ravenwood brings in for food service," he clarified, taking a swig of soda.  "Good peanut butter."

Ange nodded, promising, "I'll see what I can do.  Or – rather – what Cabrillo can do."

"So, I hear that you'll be talking to Heather after this meeting," Gretchen said.  "I'm glad that you were able to arrange that."

"I'm gonna surprise her with another Skype call," he confirmed, adding, "From here."  He waved his hand around, indicating the room he was sitting in.  "So, if that's not okay, you should've tol' me last week.  I'd've gone home for her birthday."  He punctuated this by tilting his head back and gulping down a third of the bottle.

"I'm willing to risk Heather knowing what the interior of our Baghdad safehouse looks like," his boss informed him.  "I think our secret is safe with her.  And sorry, Jake," she apologized.  "But I'm not planning to fire you today or any day.  You are much too valuable of an asset.  Even if this is your last field assignment, I want you on the team."

He frowned at that, holding the bottle, forgotten, an inch from his mouth.  "I can't – I can't think – plan – that far ahead, Gretchen."

"I understand that," she assured him.  "Just know that when the time comes, we should figure out something that works for all of us, okay?"

"'Kay," he murmured, finally taking another drink of his soda.  "But right now, all I can think about is this meeting, talkin' to Heather, an' that I hafta go t' work in four, five hours."

"We don't have to have this meeting," Ange argued, shooting Gretchen a look that was apologetic but also insistent at the same time.  "Maybe you should just get some sleep—"

"I'm fine, I slept," he countered.  "An' Heather's out to dinner for two hours prob'ly and I don' wanna ….  Let's jus' … just keep going.  I've done it b'fore."

"Well, maybe we keep the meeting small," Ange suggested.  She had set up this strategy session at Gretchen's insistence, but the other woman had to be seeing what she was seeing in Jake: pure, unadulterated exhaustion.  "I can always excuse Jamie, Jessica, and Justin."

"Who?" Jake asked, finishing off his soda.

"I believe you know them as the Triplets," Gretchen supplied.  "And we can—"

"Nah," he denied flatly.  "Can't disappoint the kids, they think I'm Paul Bunyan or somethin'."

"They have been working on their summary of your ratcheted up financial difficulties all day," Ange admitted.  "Really looking forward to presenting it to you."

"And please try not to refer to them as 'kids' or 'triplets' once they join us," Gretchen requested. 

Jake nodded.  "Yeah, okay."  He pressed his hands into the table, pushing himself up and announcing, "I'm gonna get another Coke."

"Good thinking," Ange praised, spotting the tell-tale flash over the door.  "Someone's joining us," she announced, just as the door opened and her son, Christopher, followed closely by Melanie "Mellie" Carlton, entered the conference room.

The toddler, spotting his mother, chirped out an enthusiastic, "Hi Mommy!"

Ange pushed her chair back and moved around the front of the conference table, scooping up her child and pressing kisses to the side of his head and neck.  "Hi Baby," she murmured, smiling at him, before accepting his backpack from Mellie.  "Thanks for getting him."

"Hey, Christopher and I are buddies, you know that," Mellie shrugged.

Jake had re-seated himself and – for now – looked reasonably alert (much to Ange's relief).  He waved at the camera, grinning.  "Hi Christopher!  Your mom's gonna give you a corndog for dinner, 'kay?  And ice cream."

The little boy turned immediately shy, hiding his face against his mother's shoulder.  "It's okay, Christopher," Ange soothed, jiggling her son.  "That's my friend Jake," she continued, pointing at the screen.  "He even came to our house to see you, and he's the one who gave you Jay Jay," she told him.  Glancing at the screen (and the room's cameras) she added, "He absolutely loves that thing."

"Jay Jay!" Christopher exclaimed, suddenly all smiles.

"Heather picked it out, but she lets me share credit," Jake admitted.  "I'm glad you like Jay Jay, Buddy."

"Jay Jay is actually in his backpack right now," Mellie offered.  "And hi Jake, it's nice to see you too."

"Hey, Mellie," Jake greeted, once again waving at the camera.  "Wasn't ignoring you, cuz," he teased.  "Promise."

"Yeah, yeah," she returned, taking the chair next to Gretchen while Ange settled Christopher in the chair next to hers on the other side of the table.  "How's it goin' Jake?"

"Uh, okay," he mumbled, taking a sip of his soda.  "Two in the morning and still ninety degrees out prob'ly.  And – you know – it's my wife's birthday."

"I know.  That sucks.  Tell Heather 'Happy Birthday!' from me, okay?"

"And thank you for not giving your more fulsome answer to that question," Ange chuckled, letting her hand rest on her son's head for a moment as she helped him extract his Jay Jay Jet Plane toy from his backpack.

Christopher held the toy plane up for all to see, again calling out, "Jay Jay!" 

"You're welcome," Jake returned, drinking some more of his Coke.

"Speaking of Jay Jay," Gretchen said, "What's the ETA for Jamie, Jessica, and Justin?"

"We went by to check on 'em," Mellie responded immediately, saving Ange from having to.  "They said they'd be five minutes at most.  Just putting the finishing touches on their slide deck.  And that was at least three minutes ago," she decided, checking her watch.  "They're very excited, you know.  And they know we call them the Triplets.  They kinda like it."

"And here they are," Ange announced as the light above the door began to flash its warning.

"Best behavior, Jake," Gretchen warned, though her tone was joking.

"Yes Mom," he quipped, not missing a beat.

The three analysts seemed to come through the door as a single body, pausing just inside, staring wide-eyed at the screen at the front of the room.

It was left to Ange to make the introductions.  "Jake, this is Jamie Evans, Jessica Stuart, and Justin Webber.  Jamie, Jessica and Justin, meet Senior Special Agent Jake Green."

He offered them a wave before saluting them with his soda bottle.  "Hey.  Glad to have you on the team."

The three analysts – all sporting navy blue blazers and grey slacks – stood gaping at the screen, stunned silent in their admiration.  The one in the middle, after a long pause, managed to squeak out a "Hi!"

"You know you guys can sit down," Jake suggested nearly a half minute later.  He watched as Ange, Gretchen, and Mellie exchanged amused glances amongst themselves, forcing himself to take another long drink of his Coke in order to hide his own grin and chuckle.

"Please," Gretchen agreed, turning in her seat, and pointing the three analysts toward chairs.  "Let's get started."

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

To be continued (and concluded) in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 11.

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), 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 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and if you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

The song that Heather accuses Jake of (accidentally) quoting is Just the Way You Are by Billy Joel.  It was first published in 1977 on his 5th album, The Stranger.

If you are interested in reacquainting yourself with the first time Jake held a baby, it is chronicled in Different Circumstances, Part 14B.  He really was rather terrified.

"Hungry, Hungry Hippos" is tabletop game for 2 to 4 players in which the player whose hippo "eats" the most marbles, wins.  The game was first sold in 1978 and was a favorite of my childhood.  Although Megan Lisinski's baptism was much later (January 2006) I am sure that the game was also a favorite of the Lisinski clan, and so John and Kerry would have had a version of it at that time.

Michael Lisinski obtained his undergraduate degree in Biology from SUNY Geneseo, which is just over an hour from Buffalo.  As Heather explains to the Greens in Different Circumstances, Part 5C, her father and Mikey helped her move to Jericho from Buffalo in early August 2001.  Mikey moved into a dorm at Geneseo later that month, after returning to Buffalo from Jericho.

"But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart," is Luke 2:51.  The version Gail is quoting is from the New American Standard Bible.

Heather and Jake's first date is chronicled in Different Circumstances Part 4. 

Rehoboth is Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  It’s a well-known beach town on the east coast, but kids who grew up in the west (such as Jake, Ange, and me) might not hear of it until they are in their early-to-mid-twenties.

Jake's cellphone panic button and mysteriously trackable molar are mostly from my imagination.  I did a little research and then tried to write about them vaguely enough so as to not disturb my readers with a whacko theory. Lo-Jack is a real thing; it is a stolen vehicle recovery system that utilizes GPS and cellular technology to locate a stolen or missing vehicle. 

Super recognizers are people with significantly better than average facial recognition ability.  Super recognizers are able to memorize and recall thousands of faces, often having seen them only once.  It is estimated that 1% to 2% of the population are super recognizers, and some super recognizers do a better job at facial recognition than computers as they can recognize faces over time, such as being able to pick out an adult in a crowd after seeing a picture from their childhood.  I am not a super recognizer, but like Jake claims for himself here, I am a pretty good recognizer, and I have freaked a few people out in the past by recognizing them.  Now, I mostly keep it to myself when I occasionally run into someone I went to elementary school with.

The DEA's videoconference room and Baghdad safehouse are also from my imagination and experience (just the conference room!) combined with a few things I have read in books or seen in TV and movies.

Robin Hood is a legendary heroic outlaw originally from English folklore, and then recorded in literature and film.  Per the legend, he was a highly skilled archer and swordsman.  He is famous for stealing from the rich in order to give to the poor.

Viggo Mortensen's character in The Lord of the Rings is in fact Aragorn (aka Strider) is a character in The Lord of the Rings novels and films.  Aragorn is a Ranger of the North, as well as the heir of Isildur, an ancient King of Arnor and Gondor.  Viggo Mortensen played Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings films directed by Peter Jackson and released between 2001 and 2003.  Heather and Jake were both looking forward to the release of the first film in the early parts of Different Circumstances (Heather tells April as much in Different Circumstances Part 7A.).  Due to a number of plot twists I threw their way (including Jake coming down with the flu in mid-December 2001 and Heather needing to go home for Christmas) I assume they weren't able to see the film until after they were engaged and had returned from Buffalo where they had travelled so that Jake could meet the Lisinskis. 

Paul Bunyan is a giant lumberjack and folk hero in American and Canadian folklore.  He is known for his superhuman labors and originated in the oral tradition of North American loggers. 

Gretchen's grilling of Jake regarding Heather takes place in Different Circumstances, Part 13B.

Ange's reference to Little House on the Prairie is somewhat is now officially a running joke in the Different Circumstances universe.  In Different Circumstances Part 7A, when Jake confronts Emily to tell her to leave Heather alone, Emily tells him that Heather is: "Like Little House on the Prairie wholesome.  And you, Jake – you're you."  Jake responds to this by saying: "You know what?  Wholesome's really workin' for me."  Then – later – in Different Circumstances Part 8A, when Jake showed up unexpectedly to accompany Heather to church, she told him: "Jake, seriously, you don't have to take me to church.  This isn't Little House on the Prairie."  

Jay Jay the Jet Plane is an American live-action and CGI-animated children's television series that aired on The Learning Channel and PBS Kids.  The series' 62 episodes were released between 1994 and 2005.  As with most children's shows, a line of toys was produced featuring the show's characters.  However, I'm not sure I believe Jake when he claims that giving little Christopher Waller a Jay Jay toy was all Heather's idea.  For some reason, I think he might have had a vote on that gift.