The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 4

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 300 pages and six 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:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.  This is partially an epistolary/letter-writing story (just email rather than snail mail), and there are timestamps on all emails.  Just remember that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so if you are looking at the timestamps and something seems out of order, it probably isn't, as our favorite couple is definitely living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.

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

Sunday June 4, 5:33 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Sunday June 4, 9:33 am (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

"Hi, Mom," Jake greeted as his mother answered her cell on the first ring, more than seven thousand miles away.  "Mornin'."

"Jake, sweetheart, it's so nice to hear your voice," Gail Green sighed, feeling tears threatening behind her eyes.  She blinked hard, pushing them away.  "And I believe it's evening for you.  So good evening."

"Yeah," he agreed, and she could hear the shrug in his tone.  "But it's still a million degrees outside, so hard to tell for sure sometimes."

Gail made a sympathetic noise.  "As hot as your wedding weekend?"

"Mo-om!"

"What?  You – I was speaking of the weather, Jake," she huffed a moment later.

"And you almost 'young man'-ed me," he accused.  "I could hear you thinkin' it.  Been awhile since I've gotten one of those."

"Since you got married at least," she returned pointedly.  

"Well, I'm Heather's problem now, right?"  She clicked her tongue at him, but otherwise didn't respond.  "And, it's hotter than that, probably," Jake allowed.  "Than the weather was on the weekend I got married.  All the time.  But it's okay, Mom, promise.  It's not forever, right?  And Kansas in July and August will be a breeze after this."

"You'll be like your father," she suggested, laughing softly.  "The only one who gets any sleep during a heatwave."

"Maybe, yeah," he chuckled.  "Now there'll be two of us."

"Honey," she began then, her tone turning serious. "I want to – I just want to tell you in person – or I guess, more in person than just email – how sorry I am about yesterday.  That was just an unfortunate confluence of events."

"What?  What happened, Mom?" Jake returned, his voice deepening with a frown that she could clearly picture in her mind's eye.  "I don't – I don't know what you're talking about."

"Heather didn't call you?" she asked, surprised, "Or email?"

"If she called, she didn't leave a message," Jake answered before holding his phone away from his ear so he could double check for the voicemail indicator.  There wasn't one.  "And I haven't had time to check my email yet today," he admitted a few seconds later.  "Just came off shift." 

"You worked today?  But it's Sunday," Gail protested. It was clear she didn't approve.

Jake allowed a mostly silent groan.  He hadn't meant to tell her that.  But he'd forgotten that it was Sunday, even while he'd known that he had to catch his mother before she left for church.  It was just another sign that his head wasn't completely in the game, and that he needed to do something about that.  "Yeah, I worked today," he returned, his tone flat.  "I work every day, Ma.  It's why I'm here, right?"  The clerk who was waiting to allow him to use the fax machine in the dispatch office stared at him, obviously trying to figure out what was happening on the other end of the conversation.  "I'd rather work than not have anything to do all day," he insisted.  "Makes the day go faster." 

"Well, I suppose so," Gail said sounding skeptical.  Jake was half-surprised she didn't ask what he'd done with her son. 

"Really.  And, I know that doesn't sound like me," he acknowledged, "But the more I work, the sooner I can come home, right?  But what happened?  All right if I send this fax?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, honey," Gail replied, flustered.  Hurriedly, she plugged the phone line into the fax machine.  "All ready to go on this end."

She heard him ask someone if it was okay for him to dial, and the muffled voice of another man grunting, "Sure".

"Mom, what happened?" Jake repeated, the slightest note of apprehension ringing in his tone.

"There was just a little misunderstanding yesterday with the – the breeding," she decided after a moment's hesitation.  "Your father decided to start off with Ganymede—"

"It didn't go so well, huh?" Jake groaned.  "I was thinkin' about it this morning, and I realized that it's been a long time since Dad was involved, and asking him to take on an unproven stallion wasn't a great idea."

"Well, they were able to breed him," his mother countered.  "Twice.  But Heather was there and – through no fault of her own – she ended up in an embarrassing situation."

Jake pulled the phone away from his ear, checking once again for the voicemail indicator.  Still nothing.  "Mom, what happened?" he demanded, fitting the phone back against his ear.

"I wasn't there, Jake," Gail sighed. "So, all I know is what Heather, April and your father told me.  You should read your email and call Heather," she advised.  "It's her story to tell."

"Okay, well then I need to send this to you," he reasoned, exhaling a frustrated breath.  "So, I can go read my email," he decided.  "Look, Mom, you can read the note, 'cause it'd be hard not to.  But don't – don't overreact," he ordered.

"Well, really, Jake," she complained.  "If you don't want me to see it – if – if it's too private, or you think I'm going to be shocked or something, I just won't read it."

"It's not like that," he countered.  "I mean, it's sorta private.  But it's not shocking – not bad.   It's not something that you can't read.  It's just – you need to be calm, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. To her mother's ear he sounded almost nervous, reminding her for some reason of the morning before his wedding, how his mood had changed one moment to the next.  He'd told her to be calm that morning too, even though he'd been the one with a case of the jitters.  "I'll be calm."

"Thanks," he said, exhaling deeply.  "It's just – I don't want – I want Heather to get the note on her birthday.  Even though it's not a present.  The flowers are a present, but the note's not.  The note is just a note," Jake declared.  "So, you hafta act normal around her, at least until she gets it.  I mean, she'll probably like it better if you tell her you took it to the florists, so she'll know that they didn't read it.  But you have to be normal – you can't be excited 'til after she gets it.  Okay, Mom?"

"Got it," Gail returned crisply.  "No being excited until Tuesday – or Wednesday, even."

"I'm gonna hit send, okay?"  He pushed the transmit button, and watched as the machine began to pull in the first page.  "It's three pages."

"You could've sent it to April, if you didn't want me to see," his mother said a few seconds later.  "She told me what she's doing for you on Tuesday, and I told her about picking up the Kahlua cake tomorrow," she explained, "I hope that's okay." 

"I wasn't trying to make you and April keep secrets from each other, just from Heather, and just 'til her birthday," he clarified.  "That's just so she has a good birthday, some fun surprises.  Since I'm not there."  The fax machine began to pull in the second page.  "And I didn't think I should send this through April.  And you can read the note," he reminded, "Just don't get all ex—"

"—excited, yes I know," Gail acknowledged softly.  "I'm sure she'll love everything, sweetheart.  But you do know that what Heather is most looking forward to is your Skype call."  In the background he could hear the electronic whine of the transmission coming in over his parents' old fax machine.  "It's coming through now," his mother announced.

"Good.  And, yeah, she keeps telling me she wants to look at me," he grumbled.

Gail, though, clearly saw through this faux complaint.  "And you love that," she informed him. 

"I wanna see her too," he conceded.  "Even if it's just on my computer screen."

"Cover page is here.  And, page two, but it's just her name and a picture?"  Jake could hear the amusement in his mother's voice.  "It's a lovely drawing, sweetheart," Gail added, her eyes tracing over the painstakingly rendered airplane towing a banner that proclaimed 'Happy Birthday Babe!'

"Yeah, well, I thought you could cut it out and tape it on the envelope," he explained, "So, then she'd know it was from me.  Right off the bat."

"Well then, I will do that," Gail promised. 

They both fell silent, and then the machine on his end emitted a loud, final beep indicating a successful transmission.   Quickly, he hit the status button to print the transmission report.  "So, it's there right, it came through?  You can read it?"

"Oh my, Jake," his mother breathed.  "Yes, I can read it."

"Great, thanks," he replied distractedly before pressing the 'clear' button to delete his fax from the Ravenwood machine's memory. 

"Though wait, I'm not sure the last part came through quite right," she said then.  "At the end, here, it looks like you wrote 'pre-nup' and I know you don't have that," Gail scoffed.  "I remember how irate your grandfather was that they suggested it."

"I was pissed, too, Mom," Jake reminded.  "That was the thing that freaked Heather out the most.  And then she started arguing that we should have one."

* * * * * *

It had been his grandfather's idea that Jake meet with Ben Gunnison about two months before their wedding – and Gramps's idea, too, that Jake take Heather along to the meeting because, as he'd said, she deserved to know exactly what it was she was marrying into.  Gramps had already informed Jake that he was removing all remaining restrictions from his trust fund.  "As a married man, you should have control of your own money," he'd informed his grandson.  "And I did the same thing for Eric last year." 

Jake had long avoided most meetings with the family attorneys, but he'd remembered Ben from Little League (not the best player, but a decent right fielder) and they had met previously without it being awful.   Aware that Heather was uncomfortable with the Green family money, he'd figured that maybe going through everything in a professional setting would make things easier for her.  But it hadn't quite worked out that way.

On their own, they had already agreed that Heather would be in charge of their personal finances – "You like balancing your checkbook.  You actually know where your checkbook is," he'd pointed out – with a goal of keeping them solvent, but had otherwise avoided talking too much and too often about money.  She'd done her taxes in March, showing them to him, and had asked when he was planning to do his own.  She hadn't liked his answer – that since he was sixteen and had gotten his first job working for Mags at The Pizza Garden, he'd handed his tax documents over to the family law firm by the beginning of April, but that they'd never had him come in before about mid-August to let him know how things had turned out – and her frown had only deepened when he'd shrugged and said that this was the last time she'd need to prepare her own taxes.  To say it had been a touchy subject was a major understatement. 

But still, Jake had walked Heather into the Gunnison & Gunnison offices late in the afternoon on the second Thursday in May, unaware of exactly how unnerved his fiancée was by the difference in their financial statuses.  Ben – who Jake had met with quietly (in street clothes, at the truck stop, around ten o'clock on a Tuesday night) some thirteen months previously to hand over his federal employee W-2 under the assurance of attorney-client privilege – had taken them through a litany of financial statements, showing them the conditions of a number of holdings that, it had turned out, were in Jake's name.  Heather's eyes had grown wider with each file that Jake had passed onto her, until finally, Ben had handed Jake the folder associated with the main trust fund his grandparents had established when he was baby.  "Technically, until you're married, your grandfather has to sign off on any withdrawals from this account, including interest disbursements," Ben had informed him, "But really as soon as the ceremony is complete, you can access it.  I assume you're going on a honeymoon, so practically speaking, I'll make sure you have full access before you return." 

Jake had checked the figure in the folder.  It had been basically what his grandfather had mentioned to him the week before, and taking a deep breath, he'd passed the folder to Heather.  "Just so you know, I didn't know he was going to do this when I asked you to marry me.  I'm not using you to get to the money, is all I'm sayin', babe," he'd joked weakly.

"The green flag – oh that's funny, I didn't even think of that – the green flag, for the Jake Green trust account," Ben had chuckled at the coincidence.  "The green flag shows the interest income you can likely expect this year on this account."

Risking a glance at his fiancée, Jake had hoped to at least see a hint of a smile at Ben's 'green joke', but if she'd heard him, it hadn't registered in her expression.  Heather had simply stared at the paperwork in the folder, her concentration seemingly focused on the location of the green tape flag and that ridiculous number, frown firmly fixed on her mouth.  "This – this is crazy, Jake," she had murmured finally, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

For his part, Ben had prattled on.  "You'll always have access to the principal, and we don't have to cut you a check for all of the interest either.  Up to you how you manage your money, of course. Once you're married, anyway.  So, take it if you need it, but otherwise reinvest is what I would recommend.  But that's the estimated interest that should be available by end of year, dependent on market fluctuation of course."

"This is crazy," she'd repeated, more loudly, her eyes wide and bright, her grimace growing.  "I knew – I figured – guessed – your parents and Gramps," she'd sighed, shaking her head as if to clear it.  "But this – this is crazy."

"It's just money, Heather," he'd returned, realizing immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Says the guy who's always had it," she'd retorted, her pitch rising to a squeaky register that – to Jake – had signaled danger.  She'd looked at the attorney then.  "Mr. Gunnison, there's something we should do, right?  Like – like a pre-nuptial agreement, right?  We should have a pre-nuptial agreement," she had reiterated, nodding to herself.  Heather had flashed Jake a shaky smile before returning her attention to Ben.  "And you can put that together, Mr. Gunnison."  She had glanced back at her fiancé.  "That – that's why you wanted me to come," Heather had declared, sounding oddly pleased.  "I – I get it."

"No!" Jake had objected immediately.  "No way, we're not doing that.  And that's not why I had you come here."

"This is the sort of situation where a pre-marital contract is often helpful," Ben had offered hesitantly.  "And I did take the liberty to prepare—"

"No," Jake had declared again.  "We’re not doin' that."  He'd glanced at the attorney.  "Sorry you wasted your time," he'd thrown out, sounding anything but apologetic.  "But we're just gonna skip that part of the consultation, okay?"

"Of course," Ben acknowledged.

"But Jake, your family – I'm sure it would make them more—"

"No, it wouldn't," he'd interrupted her, shaking his head and chuckling derisively.  "You know that – you know them better than that.  Trust me, the last—"  Jake had broken off, turning his gaze to the attorney once again.  "Ben.  Do you think we could have a moment."

Already halfway out of his chair, Ben had nodded his vigorous agreement.  "Of course.  And, I'm sorry," he'd blurted out before fleeing his office.

Jake had reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his own.  "You – I brought you here so you'd know this stuff.  Not – not for a pre-nup.  I don't – I don't need or want a pre-nup, okay?  My family doesn’t – if we did that, Gramps would wait for us to get married, murder me, and then switch all the accounts to your name," he'd predicted.  "So, see?  Not having a pre-nup actually protects me."

Still, she hadn't cracked a smile.  "Look, babe," he muttered, "If this – if the money – if it's really a problem then – look, we'll just ignore it, okay?  We can just ignore it," Jake had declared.  Wide-eyed, Heather had chewed her lip, nodding slowly.  "And then," he'd added, exhaling in relief, "Our kids will be really surprised when they inherit a lot of money."    

"I just – I don't want anyone thinking I'm marrying you for money," she'd told him, whispering.  "I know – I hope you know that, but I don't want anyone thinking that."

"I know that.  And no one who knows you – no one who matters – is ever gonna think that, babe," he'd assured her.  "I know why you're marrying me, and I know it's not for money, okay?"

She'd nodded and squeezed his fingers then, but she had still looked so apprehensive that Jake had given into the impulse to raise Gramps on the radio channel of his cell phone.  Jake only had to utter "pre-nup" before EJ Green – clearly angry – had cut him off.  Gramps had apologized first to Heather, then to Jake, and had declared that he would handle it.  Ten minutes later, Ben Gunnison had knocked on his own office door, before sticking his head in and asking, haltingly, if it would be all right to come in.  He'd been followed into the office by his father, and both men had fallen all over themselves apologizing for the misunderstanding. 

They had spent another forty-five minutes at the law office – long enough for Heather to be convinced that she should address Ben by his first name and not as "Mr. Gunnison" – while the attorney had taken them through the remaining complexities of Jake's and the Green family's financial status.    Heather, holding fast to the manila envelope full of documents that Jake and Ben had both insisted she have copies of in one hand, had wrapped her free arm around his as they'd walked back to the car.  She'd still looked rattled to Jake and, once they'd reached the vehicle, he hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her thoroughly before, hugging her tightly, he'd let his head rest on top of hers. 

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how freaked out are you?" he'd asked, pressing a kiss to her hairline. 

"Three," she'd answered, pulling away just enough that she could meet his eye.  She had offered him a wan smile, and he'd taken the opportunity to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.  "Maybe a four.  And a half."

"But nowhere near 'call off the wedding' level, right?" Jake had returned, not quite able to quash the anxious note in his tone.  "Because that'd be like an eleven, right?"

"I'm pretty sure that's like a hundred," Heather had countered. 

"On a scale of one to ten?" he'd chuckled, "I'll take it." 

"I mean, as long as you really aren't marrying me for the money – because you – you'll get access—"

"You know I'm not," he'd argued, scowling.  "Because if I were that kind of asshole, I'd be all over the idea of a pre-nup, right?"

Heather had closed her eyes then, nodding tiredly in agreement.  "No, you're right. I'm sorry I let myself think that, even for a half second."  She'd taken a deep breath and then had blown it out slowly, opening her eyes.  "I love you Jake, and I'm gonna marry you," she'd pledged then.  "But I just – I wasn't expecting this.  All of that.  I mean, I suspected – sort of – like ten percent of," she'd said, waving a hand in the direction of the building they had exited a minute before.  "Just – just because of the ranch.  But none of that had anything to do with the ranch." 

"Well, the ranch is a separate thing," Jake had confirmed, not bothering to elaborate.  She had learned that too, when Ben had informed them of the existence of the EJ Green Family Trust, then provided an overview of its holdings.  "And, nothing to worry about with the ranch as long as Gramps is alive and kickin', right?" 

"Right," she'd agreed, making a frustrated noise.  "It's just – Jake, you literally never worry about how you're gonna pay for anything," she'd complained, shaking her head.  "And I probably should have questioned that, I just never did.  Which now feels really stupid."

"It's not stupid.  You can't be stupid.  You're the smartest person I know," he had reminded, flashing her a quick grin.  "But I have good job, babe.  I get paid."  In March – the first time they'd broached the financial chapters of their two pre-marital counseling workbooks – they had shown each other their paystubs, which was another difference that had shocked Heather – and had induced Jake to declare, not for the first time, that she was seriously underpaid.   

"And I've been living with Gramps.  Don't pay rent.  Drive the car my parents gave me when I was sixteen.  I was undercover for a year," he'd listed.  "So, everything pretty much just went straight into the bank.  I haven't been using any of that," Jake had insisted, gesturing at the manila envelope in her hand.  "Just living off my own savings."  They had stared at one another for a long moment before he had reminded, "We really can just ignore it, okay?  I mean, that's how it got where it got.  Twenty-eight years of compound interest.  I mean, I should probably pay for our honeymoon first, but then we can ignore all of it, if that's what you want."

"Our honeymoon's gonna cost that much?" she'd questioned, eyebrows raised.  "Even the interest was a pretty big number."

"No, not really," he'd conceded, throwing her another testing, lopsided grin. "Just a bad joke.  Promise, babe."

"Well, that's a relief," Heather had sighed.  "And, since I'm assuming your parents have a couple of those magic accounts, too, I think I'm gonna stop arguing with your mom so much about who pays for what for our wedding."

Jake had kissed her chastely then, murmuring, "Good idea," against her mouth.  "And, hey," he'd added, making her take a half step away from the car, "Just be glad I didn't bring you here to let you know I had that much in credit card debt."

"That's really not funny," she had muttered.

"Puts things in perspective, though, right?"

She had made a noncommittal noise, but otherwise hadn't acknowledge the point.  "But Jake, you know, if you wanted a pre-nup, I'd be okay with that," Heather had told him as he'd opened her door.  "I'd almost prefer it." 

"You shouldn't be okay with that – prefer that," he'd argued, squeezing her hand as she'd gotten into the car.  He'd leaned in to kiss her one more time.  "That's like being half assed married," he'd told her, holding her gaze. "That's like saying: 'I love and trust you, just not with money'.  That's not the kinda married I wanna be." 

It had taken a moment, but finally, Heather had nodded.  "Not the kinda of married I want to be either, really," she'd agreed.  "We should be totally, full assed married."

"Exactly," Jake had declared, smirking at her – or at least her word choice – as he'd closed her door.  He'd walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat.  "Pizza?"

They'd arrived at her house an hour later with a still hot pizza, straight from The Pizza Garden's oven, plus a half gallon of milk and a legal pad that Jake had purchased at Gracie's Market.  "Why did you buy that?" Heather had asked, passing her fiancé a slice of pizza on a paper towel and pointing at his legal pad.  "I have paper, Jake.  Lots of it.  I'm a connoisseur of office supplies," she'd joked, smiling at him.  "Remember?"

She'd suggested that they get their pizza to go, and Jake had proposed that they divide and conquer, telling her he needed to run into the market for something.  He'd tried to give her money to pay for dinner, and Heather in turn had threatened him with reopening the pre-nuptial agreement discussion, before kissing him gently and telling him to buy her some milk and that then they could call it even.  Besides, she'd told him, if she got a large pizza, she'd have breakfast and lunch covered for the next day, so really it was all upside as far as she was concerned.

"Figured we needed a specifically designated legal pad for our pre-nup," he'd informed her, taking a bite.

"So now we're gonna have one?" Heather had inquired, shaking her head at him.  "You need to make up your mind, mister."

"Yeah.  But ours is gonna be different," Jake had explained, taking another bite before setting his slice down on the coffee table.  "Not about money – not about financial accounts and what belongs to who."

"Aren't pre-nups all about money?" she'd laughed, throwing him a skeptical look.  "Aren't they supposed to be about money?"

"Everyone else's sure," he'd agreed, writing something across the top of the legal pad, using – she'd realized – a brand new purple rollerball pen that had likely cost six or seven dollars at Gracie's Market.  "But we're gonna be different."

"I have lots of pens, too, Jake, you didn't hafta buy that."

"This is important.  Requires a dedicated pen in your favorite color," he'd insisted.  He'd held up the legal pad for her to see then.  He'd printed 'Heather Lisinski & Jake Green – The Pre-Nup' in his bold script across the top of the page.

"So, you're just gonna write our non-financial pre-nuptial agreement yourself, huh?" she'd asked before finishing off her pizza slice. 

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you're gonna write most of it," Jake had told her, flipping the page and writing something else.  "You have way more rules and requirements than me.  I'm gonna need a page.  The rest of this legal pad," he'd concluded, saluting her with said legal pad, "Is all yours."

She had watched him as he'd worked to quickly jot down his contribution.  "How many rules do you have?" Heather had asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as he'd continued to write. 

"I thought it was four, but now I think it's five," he'd answered distractedly.  "You better have another slice," Jake had recommended glancing at her.  "I'm gonna be done here in a minute, and then it's all you, babe."

"Okay," she'd returned, reaching for her second piece of pizza.

"I'm done," he'd announced three minutes later, looking expectantly at his intended, who had been wiping her hands clean on a paper towel.  He'd held the legal pad and pen out to her.  "Here.  And it was six."

Heather had stared at Jake's page, a smile blooming on her face as she took it all in.

Jake's Rules/Requirements

1. No pineapple on pizza.  No Hawaiian pizza.  No non-traditional pizza toppings.  (ex.: potato slices, eggplant, tortilla strips)

2. You are never allowed to tell me Tommy's 157 words. 

3. I will wear costumes if I have to but not ones that require makeup or hair gel.  (Count Jake-ula Clause)

4. If/when we have a fight you don't slam doors in my face.  You can tell me to go away or you need time.  But we make sure we talk again in a reasonable amount of time (hours not days). 

5. I am allowed to open doors and carry things for you if I want to.  You should always assume that's what I'm going to do.  Remind me if I don't.

6. We're full assed married.  1000% in.  Both of us.

"I think we need to label number five as the 'Chivalry Clause'," she'd told him, offering him a wobbly smile.  "And I think this is a really, really good list."  Heather had leaned toward him, her lips puckered expectantly.  "Thank you," she'd sighed as he'd kissed her.

"Okay, your assignment, Miss Lisinski—"

"Pretty sure that's the first time you've gotten to say that to me," she'd giggled.

"First and last time I'm gonna hafta call you Miss Lisinski too, I bet.  I don't tell you what to do that much," he'd reminded.  "But your assignment, should you choose to accept, Miss Lisinski, soon to be Mrs. Green—"

"Thank you!"

"—is to flip the page, put 'Heather's Rules/Requirements' at the top, and then just start listing them," Jake had ordered.  "From our first date forward.  Bonus points if you can do 'em in order."

Heather had turned back to his page then, and had thrown him a quizzical look.  "Yours aren't in order.  Pizza is from our first date, but we were engaged before you ever even knew about Tommy's hundred fifty-seven words.  And, you've always been chivalrous."

"Actually, Tommy's hundred and fifty-seven words should be first and last on that list.  Just the fact that they exist scares the hell outta me," he'd declared.  "Just leave spaces in between so we can edit, if necessary."

"I have a green highlighter," Heather had announced, climbing to her feet.  "We can highlight the really important requirements like that one," she'd suggested, squeezing by him, though when he'd grabbed her hand, she had been more than happy to lean down and kiss him again.  "That work for you, Mr. Green?"

"That works," he'd agreed, following her with his eyes as she'd crossed the room to her office nook.  Heather had quickly located a green highlighter in her desk, and returning to her place on the couch, she'd asked, "I'm highlighting Tommy's hundred fifty-seven words and 'don't slam doors', okay?"

"What about 'full assed married'?" Jake had offered, "That's important, too."

She'd groaned then.  "They're all important.  But some are slightly more important."

"And that's why they're in our pre-nup."

"Right!" Heather had acknowledged.  "Okay, here goes nothing – or something – something very important," she'd edited, catching her fiancé's put out expression.  "First date requirements—"

"Not married, not dying, not wanted by the FBI," Jake had supplied helpfully.  "That's married to other people.  Because we're gonna—" 

"—be full assed married.  To each other.  But actually," she'd told him, shaking her head, "That was not the first, first date requirement." 

"Pretty sure it was," Jake had argued. 

But Heather had shaken her head 'no' a second time.  "Those were the second, first date requirements.  When we got to The Jericho Grille and they'd had the fire, I said that we should go to The Pizza Garden, and you thought we were overdressed, but I told you I hadn't wanted to go out with you for where you would take me but because I wanted to spend time with you.  So that's actually the first, first date requirement slash rule.  Spending time together is more important than what we do or where we go." 

"Yeah," Jake had nodded, "That definitely belongs in our pre-nup.  Highlighted."

* * * * * *

"That's what I wrote, Mom," Jake continued. "It just doesn't mean what you're thinkin'.  It's – it's like an inside joke," he told her, not sure how else to explain.  It was, after all, unexplainable to anyone who wasn't Heather – and Heather, he didn't need to explain it to at all.  "It's – it's about pancake frequency, and how pineapple doesn't belong on pizza and – now – peanut butter cookies."

"You two have a pre-nuptial agreement about foods that begin with 'P'?" his mother chuckled.

"Apparently," he admitted, "But not really.  It's – there's other stuff in there," he insisted, ordering, "Hold on a sec, Mom."

Jake turned to give the transmission report to the clerk, who, in turn, handed him a clipboard with a form on it.  He filled it out, jotting down his name, employee number, the phone number he'd faxed, and the number of pages transmitted.  The cost of the fax would be deducted from his – or rather the other Jake Green's – next paycheck, along with a hefty fee.  He folded and then stuffed his three pages into the front pocket of his backpack and slung it, along with his soft-sided cooler bag, over his shoulder before heading for the exit.

"I'm just sayin' that part of the note is real.  The whole note is real.  And, we have a pre-nup, it's just about how – how we're married, I guess.  Instead of money.  Like I only go to church on special occasions," he offered, moving to seat himself on the same bench he'd sat on three days earlier when he and Heather had had their nearly disastrous conversation. 

"That sounds exactly like something Heather would come up with," Gail chuckled.

"Yeah, only it was my idea.  Just to get her to stop worrying that we should do something else.  The other kind," he explained.  "So that's what we did, like, two months before we got married.  And now, when we need to, we add to it.  Just now Heather's in charge of it – keeping it all together.  Calls herself 'the custodian of record'."

"I see," Gail sighed, "And I think I can understand why you want this love letter to be a part of that, too.  This is a big step."

"That's a love letter?"  Jake sounded amused by the idea.

"Definitely," his mother confirmed, "To Heather, and to your future children.  Though, really, would it have hurt you to use the word 'baby'?" she asked, tutting at him softly.  "Just once. You could've written 'We should have a baby'," she suggested.  "Might be better than 'We should have a kid'."

"Nah, if I'd written that, she'll think I'm just telling her what she wants to hear.  My way, Heather might think I mean it.  Which I do," he declared.  "And why're you grading my note—"

"Love letter," she corrected.

"—to my wife on a subject where we all know exactly where you stand?"

"It was just a suggestion," Gail defended.  "But at least I can't be accused of pushing anymore, especially after she receives this on Tuesday."

"We've been talking about it," Jake admitted then.  "We talked about it, and I kinda asked her what she wanted me to say, and Heather told me that she wants me to say 'baby', but she knows I'm gonna say 'kid'.  And, I guess she's right." 

Gail could imagine the shrug that went along with that statement.  Her son did not care to be underestimated by those he loved and respected, and Heather was definitely first on that list. 

"Plus, like a week and a half ago," he continued, "Kerry sent a ton of pictures of Megan's half birthday party, and I told Heather she was a 'cute kid'.  Guess I should've said 'cute baby'.  So now I just want to be sure she knows I mean it, that's all."

"I'm sure she will, Jake," his mother soothed.  "How could she not, reading this?"

"Yeah, well.  We agreed we'd talk about it later – when we're together.  But I know she's worried – afraid – I'm gonna say I'm not ready," he confessed, blowing out an anxious breath.  "But I am – pretty sure I am."  He chuckled uneasily, then quickly changed the subject.  "You know I must've looked at those pictures – all of 'em – ten times, maybe more."

"Joe sent your dad a few of those pictures," Gail told him, throwing him a bit of a lifeline.  The subject had clearly left him nervous, but she could also tell that he was sincere.  "There was one of both Grandpa Joes with Megan and Joey," she recalled, pulling the scissors out of the desk's top drawer so she could carefully cut out the 'Heather' that Jake had sent on the second page of his fax.  "And one of just Joe holding Megan.  Your dad made me stop what I was doing and come right into the den to see," she chuckled.  "You know, I think he'd enjoy having a granddaughter to dote on himself," she informed her son.  "And, I'd like that too, of course," she admitted, taping the 'Heather' strip of paper to the front of an envelope.

"Aren't you just supposed to be happy with what you get when it comes to kids?" Jake reminded.  "Boy, girl, it doesn't matter, right?"

"In the end, yes," his mother agreed, turning her attention to cutting out Jake's drawing.  "We'll all be happy whichever way it goes," Gail declared.  "But you know, the speculation while you wait is fun too.  I've always thought people are too eager to find out these days."

"Well, if we do have a daughter, our plan is to name her after her grandmothers," Jake confided suddenly.  "So, don't get too upset when we name our kid 'Abigail', okay?  A-R-G is a better set of initials than R-A-G, right?"

"Those are definitely better initials," his mother agreed a moment later, after she'd caught her breath.  "And, Jake," she'd continued, "You do know that I don't hate my name, it's just that I hated the nickname my brothers came up with for me.  When I was little, my mother called me 'Abigail', and my father called me 'Abby', so your uncles – Stuart and Eddie – they started to call me 'Abby-gail'," she explained.  "And then it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to them calling me 'Baby Snail'."

A short bark of laughter escaped Jake. "Sorry Mom," he sputtered, a second later.  "That's – that sucks."

"It was their commentary on how they felt about your Grandma Peggy always saying they had to take me along to play with them.  I was a baby who was going to slow them down," Gail sighed, affixing the airplane drawing to the envelope.  "Stuart was nine or ten, Eddie, six or seven.  I was four, four and a half.  They hadn't even bothered to come up with a nickname for Dennis yet, and Bridget was an infant," she remembered.  "Of course, when they finally got around to nicknaming Bridget, they called her 'Bridget the Midget'."

Jake groaned, but it quickly turned into a laugh.  "They wouldn't dare call her that now, she'd kill 'em."

"That may be why she works so hard at being intimidating," Gail agreed, chuckling along with her son.  "Still, it put 'Baby Snail' into perspective.  And by then, I was already 'Gail'.  That was Grandpa Walt's suggestion after I cried one too many times about how mean the boys were.  So, it was the name I told the teacher on the first day of first grade, and it just stuck.  I don't hate my given name," she assured him.  "It just doesn't actually sound like my name.  To me."

"Well, I get that.  Trust me," he acknowledged with an uneasy laugh.  "Sorry your brothers were such jerks."

"Thank you.  And luckily, they've matured."  She allowed herself one last opportunity to look over Jake's note (though, really, she thought reading it again, it was most definitely a love letter) to Heather before folding it in thirds.   "And you have too, Jake.  You will be much more than an 'okay dad'," she predicted.

"God, I hope so," he snorted.  "I just – I never really thought about it – having kids – before Heather.  So, yeah, for her – for them – I wanna be better than okay.  A lot better."

"And that's why you will be," Gail decided, finally tucking the letter into the envelope she'd prepared.  "A great dad, I've no doubt.  You've always succeeded at the things you've been willing to put effort into – your heart into."

"Thanks, Mom," he murmured.  "I hope so.  And thanks for taking care of this for me."

"Of course, sweetheart," Gail returned, her smile evident in her tone.  "I will take great care with this.  Thank you for trusting me with this – this mission," she decided, laughing softly.  "I'm just very happy for you – both of you."

"Thanks," he repeated.  "And just remember – be calm."

"I'll be calm, Jake, promise," she swore. "And, I've got it in the envelope, with her name taped to the front." 

"And the drawing?"

"And the drawing, which is very sweet, honey," his mother assured him.  "Just need to seal it, and it's all ready for delivery tomorrow.  Well, the first delivery to the florists tomorrow," she amended.

"They're supposed to deliver them first thing on Tuesday," Jake offered.  "I didn't realize it was Field Day until later, so they may sit in the office for a while."

"Well, that just means Harriet will enjoy them for a few hours, and then Heather will get to enjoy them too.  For someone who gets flowers so often," she joked, "She's never gotten blasé about it."

"That's why I send 'em – or bring 'em – to her so much.  Always makes her day."  Jake paused for a moment, then prompted, "You better get to church."

"I suppose," Gail sighed.  She could have happily talked to him for another hour, though she knew that wasn't fair to Heather, who was probably hoping for a call as well.  "Check your email Jake, and give Heather a call." 

"I will Mom.  Gonna go grab a sandwich to go, and go read my email," he promised.  "And, hey, if you can, tell Heather the story of how I ended up called 'Jake', okay?  I sorta told her about it, but she'd love to hear the story, and you can tell it better."

"I'll keep that in my back pocket, in case I get the impulse to be excited around her over the next few days," Gail teased.

"Calm, Mom!" Jake admonished with mock gruffness.

"It's been great to talk to you, honey." 

"Good to talk to you, too, Ma.  Bye."

Their connection ended, and Gail thumbed off her phone, pressing her hand to her mouth for a moment, then wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.  Squaring her shoulders, she exhaled a long breath, then picked up the envelope and licked the seal before carefully pressing it closed.

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

Sunday June 4, 7:19 pm (Baghdad Iraq) / Sunday June 4, 11:19 am (Jericho KS)

4 months before the bombs

"Hey babe," Jake greeted as their landline phone was picked up mid-second ring.  He supposed there was a thousand in one chance that she wasn't the one who had answered the phone, but she had said in her email that she would be home alone – sleeping in – for most of the day, and he doubted his father had gotten past his aversion to disarming the alarm in the last day, or would be answering their phone if somehow he had.  "How're you?"

"Hey you," Heather returned, confirming his assumption.  "I'm good.  Glad you called," she added, her voice taking on a sultry quality.  "I was startin' to get worried you weren't gonna."

"I worked some overtime today, so I can take a couple hours off on Tuesday," he explained.  "Might not be able to answer all my email tonight, but I sure as hell was gonna call you.  Been lookin' forward to it all day, even before I read my email and knew you'd planned things out so I could."

Heather groaned softly.  "So, you definitely saw my email."

"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, refraining from telling her that his mother had alerted him to the need to do so.  After all, he would have called her anyway.  "How're you doin' after yesterday?" 

"I'm fine," she grumbled.  "Embarrassed that I got embarrassed.  And that I emailed you about it.  Like I said in my later email – and maybe I didn't say it, but it's what I meant – I realized it wasn't that big of a deal." 

"Seemed like a big deal to me – medium deal, anyway," he told her.  "And, I'm glad you emailed me about it.  Everyone else did—"

"Oh God!" she interjected, "That's just great."

"—so, if you hadn't, I'd be freaked," Jake completed.

"Freaked because you're married to somebody who doesn't understand your family's business at all?  Or, freaked because you're married to somebody who's probably going to die an early death from blushing herself to death?  Or, maybe freaked—"

"Not worried about any of that, Heather," he interrupted.  "Well, don't blush yourself to death.  That would suck.  But – If you hadn't emailed me, I'd be worried that you didn't think you could tell me about – about how you're feeling.  And I'd hate that."

She groaned again.  "Define 'everyone else'.  Please tell me that Stanley did not email you.  Tony doesn't even have email," she said, more as a reminder to herself than to him.  "Eddie only has email at school.  And no way the Sharpes know how to email you, they only ever deal with your mom."

"They didn't.  April did – she said Eric was knocked out from too much physical labor, so clearly his day job is way too cushy," Jake joked.  "And my parents both emailed me.  Just those three besides you.  And they all said that you were embarrassed and it wasn't your fault and they all felt really bad about it."

"It wasn't my fault," she echoed, grumbling softly.  "But it was embarrassing, and I don't know.  I just – it was like the perfect storm of an embarrassing situation.  That discussion – of how exactly to do things – was so weird, and sometimes I – I don't know."

"Sometimes you don't know what?" he prompted.  It was always the things that Heather felt she couldn't talk about with him – the things she avoided telling him – that worried him the most.  His wife was an open book, at least to him, unless she thought she needed to protect him from something.  "C'mon, babe.  Your priest basically ordered you to talk to me," he reminded. 

"My priest said we should take the opportunity to communicate," she corrected gently.  "Have lemons, make lemonade.  But it's a good idea."

"It is.  So, sometimes you don't know what?"

"I guess – I guess I don't always feel like I completely belong here," Heather admitted a few seconds later, sniffling softly.  "That's not how I feel today," she continued in a rush of breath, "But, yeah, yesterday, for a little bit, that's how I felt."

"Babe – Heather.  You belong here," he argued, frowning to himself.  "Well, not here – not where I am.  I don't belong here," Jake complained.  "But you belong there.  At home.  Our home."

"I know," she answered, "That's just not always the easiest thing to remember."

"Well, remember it," Jake ordered, cringing inwardly as he heard the frustration in his tone.  He didn't want her to think for even a split second that he was irritated with her, but that didn't mean there weren't two teenaged boys back in Kansas that he'd happily put on stall mucking out duty for the rest of their miserable lives.  "You belong there.  It's where we live, and if you don't belong there, then I don't either."

"Okay," she sighed.  "And, I'm sorry, I think – I know – I'm just missing you a lot right now.  It's way easier to remember that I belong when you're here.  I know I belong with you."

"I miss you too, babe," he murmured in return.  "And, I'm sorry I'm not there to remind you that you're exactly where you belong."

"You're reminding me," Heather argued.  "Right now.  And I'm really glad you called."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he joked.

"No, Jake, don't be silly.  I'm just – I'm reminded.  I was basically fine last night, but I still want to talk to you.  And to forget about what happened.  Can we do that?"

"In a minute, because I need to apologize for what happened.  It was my fault – unintentional – but still my fault.  So, I'm sorry you were set up – that I set you up – to be embarrassed."

"How could what happened possibly be your fault, Jake?" Heather asked, a hint of a snicker creeping into her voice.  "That makes no sense.  You weren't here.  I'm glad you weren't here to witness that, actually.  As much as I wish you were here, so clearly, I can't make up my mind," she admitted, finally giving into a full-blown giggle at her own indecisiveness.  

"I asked you for a report," he argued. 

"I was down at the barn by eight-thirty, Jake," she countered.  "You hadn't sent your email, and I certainly hadn't read it.  And I wanted to go down to the barn, that's where all the excitement was."

"Well, see?  You belong there – you know where the excitement is on a horse ranch," he teased.

Heather groaned softly.  "I thought it would be interesting – and really, it was – but then everything happened, and I really didn't feel cut out to be living on a horse ranch in that exact moment."

"I shouldn't have told Dad to breed Ganymede," Jake declared.  "I was just – I was glad, I guess, that he asked for my advice, and then I gave him my plan for the ranch.  Not that it matters right now since this season's already a loss.  But I'm sorry I told him to do that, and then you ended up getting embarrassed."

"Why is breeding Ganymede your plan for the ranch?" she asked.  Her tone was completely changed, full of curiosity, all traces of her earlier anxiety gone.  "Explain it to me like I know nothing about the horse business, because I really don't."

"You know more than you think," he insisted.  "You taught me the lineage software too, remember?"

"That's reading a manual, it's not understanding about horses," Heather argued.  "And I live on a horse ranch, I want to know what we do.  And then one day maybe it won't be so embarrassing."

"You can live on a horse ranch and not know everything about equine breeding." 

"But I want to know.  And it'll help me feel like I belong," she reasoned.  "What's your plan for the ranch?  Why Ganymede?  C'mon, Jake," she wheedled, "I like it when you tell me about running the ranch, and you always act like I understand it all. It's very sweet."

"Okay," he agreed, sounding and feeling pleased about her request.  He didn't get to tell her a lot about his official employment with the DEA, and as a result he knew a lot more about the triumphs and travails of teaching third grade than his wife knew about what he did day-to-day, but he had always enjoyed their conversations about what was happening on the ranch.  She was naturally inquisitive, interested in everything, and it was always fun – and sometimes a challenge – to talk to her about the things he could talk about, and that were important to him.

"Hey, it's that or we move straight to the sweet talk part of this conversation, Jakey," she prompted when he didn't begin.

He groaned.  She had managed to sneak a requirement into their pre-nup (the 'Heather's Rules/Requirements' section went on for pages) that obligated him to not only provide 'sweet talk' on demand, but also allowed her – only under the specific scenario of requesting 'sweet talk' – to refer to him as 'Jakey'.  "There's gonna be a 'sweet talk' portion of this conversation, huh?"

"You better believe it," Heather returned, giggling.  "I haven't even been able to decide if yesterday was almost as or more embarrassing than all my brothers and their wives making fun of me for falling in love with a cowboy.  So sweet talk is definitely required, cowboy."

"Technically, I'm not a cowboy – no cows," he reminded. 

"That is going to upset a lot people in my family.  Uncle Cowboy Jake, remember?"

"I can still be Uncle Cowboy Jake.  That's like conceptual."

"You're funny," Heather sighed, and Jake was sure she was shaking her head at him – and smiling.

"Still, I think I can manage some 'sweet talk'," Jake conceded, chuckling.  "Kinda expected that I'd be called upon to provide some after everything yesterday.  But first your equine breeding lesson, Mrs. Green, okay?"

"I'm ready," she assured.

"Okay, so, you know we're a breeding operation, and most of our revenue comes from breeding, raising, and then selling horses, right?"

"Right.  That I know."

"Well, this first part is review, okay?  Background," he clarified.   

"Repetition is a tried-and-true teaching method," Heather reminded, "Use it all the time, myself."

"So, I'm vice principal approved," Jake joked.

"Always, hon."

"So, we sell most of the horses born on ranch," he continued.  "Eighty to ninety percent, depending on the year.  And, the horses we keep tend to be fillies or mares, for breeding stock."

"Right," she declared.  "Though that brings us to the question of Callie – Callisto – and whether she should be bred.  So?"

"And the answer is, yes but no," Jake said, drawing an exasperated noise from his wife.  "Breeding a maiden mare is even more complicated than working with an unproven stallion.  You can't just breed the mare."  Jake paused, allowing a wry chuckle.  "You have to get her used to being mounted first, or things can go really wrong."

"So, yeah, I should skip that day," Heather groan-laughed.

"Probably, yeah," he agreed.  "Gramps and I always worked with the mares on that, on a totally separate day.  And I wouldn't want my dad having to handle that, too.  You hafta put this leather apron on the practice stallion so he can't actually breed her.  There's a whole process."

"Okay, so, yeah.  Not breeding Callie this year," Heather decided.  "But when you're home next year, right?  That's why you kept her."

"We kept her because she's your horse," Jake said.  "And because she's kind of a great horse: beautiful color, good size, smarter than average, perfect temperament."

"That's why I was interested in her when she was a baby. I mean, when she was a foal," she corrected herself.  "She was pretty and friendly – if a horse can be friendly?" she laughed, "Plus I loved her diamond patch."

"See?  You had a good eye for horseflesh even then," he complimented.  "Gramps wanted you to have a horse of your own, and we need a good stable of breeding mares—" 

"Broodmares, you mean," she interjected. 

"It's the business, so yeah.  It was an easy choice to keep her.  And, Callisto's still your horse," Jake insisted.  "But she's also good breeding stock, and you can still ride a horse that's in foal.  And you know," he continued, "We've sold two or three of her sisters and they've turned out to be solid barrel racers.  So, if you wanna take that up," he teased.

"I'm gonna become a better rider this summer and leave it at that, okay?"

"That's works.  You should enjoy the perks of living on a horse ranch, babe.  Maybe it's just the one perk – you get to ride your very own horse whenever you want.  But you don't have to know everything 'bout the business."

"I don't think I could handle knowing every bit of the business," Heather chuckled ruefully.  "I still wanna be able to talk to you about it.  I want you to be able to talk to me about what you do.  Even the stuff I'm gonna try and avoid seeing in person."

"Well, like I said, I shouldn't have told Dad to breed Ganymede," he'd reminded.  "And, if I'd been there, I would've told you to stay away for that part, because yeah."

"So, what do you call a stallion that's never been bred?" she demanded.

"Unproven," he answered, "Though Ganymede's still unproven, and will be for a while.  We're – I'm – trying to develop him as our next stud, and it'll take a few years.  Until a stud has foals on the ground – offspring that you can point to as good at whatever it is they do—"

"Like barrel racing?"

"Yeah. Different sires produce different kinds or horses.  Good rodeo horses, or good saddle horses, horses that accept the harness, trail horses," Jake explained.  "But until a stud is proven, we can't really ask money for breeding him." 

"So, that's why the Sharpes only want Agamemnon." Heather realized, sounding very pleased with herself.

Jake was happy too.  "Exactly, you got it.  They might breed one mare to Ganymede for free – just take the chance that it'll work out, but they're not gonna barter with us for the service of an unproven stallion."

"That makes sense."

"And, we only make, maybe, ten percent of our revenue off of stud fees – maybe, twenty percent in a really good year – but it's more profitable than breeding our studs to our own mares because then we carry all the costs and risk," he explained.  "So, even though that's what we do – raise horses for sale – we really want to maintain that line of business, too."

"Right, because you're already paying all the upkeep on the stallion – well, the stud – anyway.  And also, if you can get someone to pay a stud fee, then they've covered the costs for who knows how many days when you can breed that stud to your own mares, too, right?" Heather reasoned.  "And then sell those offspring – or at least enough of them to cover the costs of the horses you keep for breeding stock."

"See?  You've been downplaying what you know all this time, babe.  You get the breeding business," Jake informed her.  "A plus."

"I get the business part – the economics make sense.  Sorta," Heather countered.  "Slim margins."

"Most of the time," he agreed.  "That's why we hafta stay diversified.  And why one season like this one's gonna impact the next five years," Jake admitted.

"Well, that's a bummer," she grumbled.  "Still not your fault, hon.  And the breeding part is still kinda weird.  Or really weird.  At least to this city girl," she sighed.

"I happen to love you, city girl," Jake replied flirtatiously.  "And you really don't hafta participate in – attend, whatever you want to call it – everything that happens on the ranch, especially with the breeding side of things.   Just go riding sometimes, and come see the foals when they're born so you can name 'em.  Okay?"

"That I can do, definitely," she agreed.  "I'm gonna go riding, and I really do love getting to name the baby foals.  But you're sure you're okay being married to a city girl who blushes big time over horse breeding?" Heather challenged, although there was a playful note in her tone that told him that this time she wasn't really worried about his answer.

"I am one thousand percent – a hundred thousand percent – okay with being married to you," he declared.  "Just sorry that you ended up embarrassed yesterday – really sorry that it's because you wanted to get in on the excitement, and instead you had to deal with 'teenage boy brains and hormones'," Jake said, quoting his mother.  "God," he added a beat later, "You have no idea how glad I am that you did not know me when I was seventeen."

"Yeah, me too," she laughed.  "Because you do remember that when you were seventeen, I was eleven or twelve, right?  If I'd met you then, I would've been just another August to you."

"Nothin' against August, but you as a kid were nothing like her as a kid.  Trust me," he said.  "She literally almost drowned herself once to get my attention.  You always say you didn't chase boys, so no way you would've done that."

"I didn't chase boys," she insisted.  "And seriously?  August did that?  When you were a lifeguard?" 

Heather was well aware that while Jake's first official job had been washing dishes at The Pizza Garden, he had also spent a number of summers working as a lifeguard at the Jericho Community Pool.  The Greens were longtime members of Fielding Glen Country Club – EJ and Betsy Green were founding members – and Eric, having caught the golf bug around age twelve, had spent as much of his free time at Fielding Glen as he could convince his parents to allow.  A definite regular by the summer of 1989, he'd heard that there would be a lifeguard position coming open the next year and had pushed his parents to let him take the training and apply.  A Red Cross lifeguard certification course had been scheduled in Goodland across four Saturdays in September and October, and Gail had agreed to drive Eric, but only if Jake also enrolled.  Jake hadn't been interested in working at the country club, but when Johnston had told him that the starting pay for lifeguards at the community pool was ten dollars an hour – more than two and a half times minimum wage – and that the Parks and Recreation Department was always looking for lifeguards, he'd agreed to attend the classes with his brother.

So, Jake (who had been driving on the ranch since he was eleven) had taken and passed the road test for his license the Monday after he'd turned sixteen; reported for his first shift at The Pizza Garden the following Friday night; and had helped open the community pool for the season the second weekend in May.  As soon as he'd started lifeguarding, Emily Sullivan had tried to convince him to give up The Pizza Garden, pouting about never being able to spend time with him.  But Jake had stubbornly refused on the grounds that lifeguarding was seasonal, and that he liked working for Mags.  Anything seven-year-old Mindy Henry might have had to do with his decision, he'd kept to himself. 

"Yeah, I remember April saying August was hoping I'd perform CPR on her," Jake groaned.  "That's how I met them, actually.  The first time I met them," he clarified.  "April and I both saw her go under, so I blew my whistle and jumped in.  Got 'er outta the pool and on the deck, and April started pounding her on the back," he explained.  "But as soon as April said that she'd start CPR, August coughed and was all better," he chuckled.  "It happened quick enough, and she was okay, so I didn't have to close the pool for the day.  Lucky, because it was a hot day, they were new to town, and that would not have made August very popular at the Elementary." 

Heather laughed.  "Wasn't she like nine?  And she was trying to get you to kiss her by performing CPR on her?  I was so grossed out by the idea of kissing when I was nine," she declared.  "And if anyone had had to perform CPR on me, I would have probably died of embarrassment."

"She's actually born in August, right? 'Cause only one of them was born when you'd expect," he remembered.  "And I told you – no dying from embarrassment."

"Yep," she confirmed.  "August and Autumn were both born in August, and April was born in May.  The third, and her mom said she was two weeks late, so she was actually supposed to be born in April.  Karen said that was why they picked her name."

"Well, this was right after Fourth of July, so August was still eight.  And you are nothing like her," Jake declared.  "Not to me anyway.  No comparison." 

"Thanks, I appreciate that.  Even though I like August."

"You're welcome.  And, when exactly did kissing become not gross to you?" he demanded, his tone curious.

"I dunno," she giggled, "Older than nine, younger than now?  I'm not completely sure kissing wasn't still a little bit gross for me up until I met you."

"That's because you were kissing the M and M boy.  Which is gross to think about," Jake opined, punctuating his statement by making a gagging noise.

"'M and M boy'?" Heather snickered, "That's very mild coming from you, hon."  He made a non-committal noise – not entirely sure she hadn't teed that up for him on purpose – but otherwise didn't respond.    "And, you know," she continued, "I try to never think about who you were kissing before you met me, so I suggest you do the same.  Besides, we both have much better things to ruminate on when it comes to kissing than who we each might have occasionally kissed before." 

"I'm still enjoyin' your slideshow, babe," he told her, chuckling.  "That count as ruminating?"

"Definitely!" she declared brightly. "And me, too.  I watch it every night, at least once."

"Yeah, me too."

"So, we're agreed," she announced a moment later. "It's a good thing I didn't know you when you were seventeen, for multiple reasons.  And it is also good that we didn't know each other when I was seventeen—"

"For legal reasons, if nothing else.  You dad would not have stood for me hanging around with you then," Jake snorted.  "Or your brothers.  If I'd met one of them first—"

"If you'd been friends with my brothers first, no way you would've wanted to go out with Andy or Tommy or John's little sister.  Things worked out like they should've," Heather decided.  "We were not meant to meet when we were teenagers – especially since we weren't really teenagers at the same time.  Not the same kinda teenager anyway."

"Yeah, you were a girl and I was a boy.  Not the same kind at all." 

"Not exactly what I meant, Jake," she sighed.  "More like, what does a thirteen-year-old have in common with an eighteen-year-old?"

"That too," he agreed.  "Though you know, fifteen or twenty years from now when we're in the thick of things with our own teenagers, odds are at least one of 'em will be a boy," Jake predicted.  "We'll probably end up embarrassed sometime.  Sometimes," he amended, chuckling dryly.  "Because it's pretty much guaranteed to be more than once."

"I know," she acknowledged.  "And it doesn't matter how good of parents we are – we try to be – you are exactly right.  At some point our children are going to embarrass us.  Carla Sharpe was 'absolutely mortified'.  Her words.  Every time I ended up back in the same room with her, she apologized and told me she was 'absolutely mortified'."  Heather paused a moment, then added, "It's not – it's not a reason to not have kids, Jake."

"I wasn't sayin' that it was, Heather," he assured quickly, emphasizing, "I'm not sayin' that.  I'm not – I'm not gonna say anything you're afraid to hear, okay?" 

He paused, weighing how much to tell her now – how much of his note, his love letter according to his mother – to preempt.  He didn't want her to worry, to doubt him or his commitment.  But he also wanted to stick to his plan, despite the fact that he wasn't big on planning.  Except when it came to her.  For Heather, he'd always been willing to make the effort.  And, he wanted her to get his note and to be excited and happy on her birthday.  It wasn't a present – that wasn't how presents were supposed to work, or at least it wasn't how presents worked for them.   But still he'd timed the note to coincide with her birthday, and the hope that he could pull off a Skype call from his secure location.  He wanted the chance to see her while her joy over his decision – his declaration – was still fresh.  He wanted her to be able to see him too, so she could judge for herself the truth in his note.  Jake, obstinately, didn't want to give any of that up.

"I'm just – I think I'm just trying to apologize ahead of time," he continued finally.  "So, sorry on behalf of our future punk teenager.  Or teenagers.  For whatever the hell they do to embarrass you."

"You don't hafta apologize, especially not for that," Heather insisted, exhaling softly. "But thank you all the same.  And I – I trust you to – to not hurt me, okay?  Not when it's important.  Not on purpose."

"Never on purpose, babe," he swore.  "But I can be an idiot, so there's that."

"We've both had our moments, hon," she reminded.  "Luckily, we mostly take turns in having them, right?"

"Right," he agreed, chuckling along with her.  "Still, we should probably come up with a signal," he joked, "For when we're sittin' in the principal's office at the High School and you're feeling overwhelming regret for having kids with me.  Somethin' that lets you know I'm sorry and I love you."

"I'm not gonna regret us having kids, Jake." 

"Hey, I won't either, babe.  Promise."

"Good," Heather declared, allowing a relieved sigh.  "And if you really think we need a signal, how 'bout when we're walking back to the car afterward, you stop me, and you kiss me, and then you say 'I love you'.  But you don't hafta apologize.  I don't want you to ever be sorry for having kids with me.  And that includes apologizing to me for whatever the heck they get up to." 

"You're the only person I want to have kids with, Heather, okay?" Jake insisted.  "And, that's a nice, straightforward signal.  Should work.  Plus, it'll embarrass the hell outta our kid." 

"Added benefit," she giggled.  "And then, on the drive home we can calmly discuss just how grounded our kid is—"

"In front of our kid," he added helpfully.  "Good idea."

"Exactly," she confirmed.  "Because, yeah, called to the principal's office, that's pretty much my nightmare scenario."

"Called to the sheriff's station's worse," he countered.  "Trust me on that."

Heather groaned.  "No, you're right.  That definitely feels worse.  For sure."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, "So, that'd be my plan—"

"You're planning for this?" she interrupted, clearly amused.

"Probably the wrong word," he conceded, chuckling softly.  "How 'bout my approach?" he suggested.  "But if we accept that a few trips to the principal's office are probably inevitable, and work on avoiding trips to the sheriff's station, then hopefully things will work out."  He paused for a moment, exhaling softly through his teeth so that his next words came out in a hiss.  "Not that a coupl'a days cooling your heels in a holding cell is always a bad thing.  Worked on me."

"I know, hon," Heather acknowledged, her tone full of understanding.  And, she did know.  While they still discovered regularly the smaller stories from their pasts that they hadn't found the right opportunity or moment to share, Jake had covered the broad strokes of his personal history including all the lowlights of his teenage years before they were married.  She'd handled those revelations – including his and Emily's pregnancy scare – better than she had initially taken learning the full extent of the Green family money.  So, while he'd never gotten around to thanking his father for leaving him in jail for the weekend, his wife was well aware of how formative the experience had been for him.

"And I think we should definitely take your approach," she continued.  "And the good news is, it'll be a while before we're dealing with teenagers.  Our kids will be babies to start," she reminded, "And with babies all you really worry about at first is—"

"'Keeping them alive'?" he filled in for her, quoting what she'd said in their conversation a week prior.

"Pretty much, yeah.  Make sure they're eating, gaining weight.  Figure out why they're crying, and make it all better.  Don't drop them on their heads.  All part of keeping them alive."

"Then throw a party to celebrate, right?" Jake suggested.  "We should definitely do that."

"Definitely throwin' a party," Heather confirmed, a smile clearly evident in her tone.

"Guess what?" he asked rhetorically.  "I think I can handle that.  'Cause it's basically the same thing with foals.  The eating and gaining weight part, at least.  Even figuring out the cryin', sorta.  And if there's one thing I've learned from bein' around your family," he continued, allowing a dry chuckle, "It's just don't drop babies, period.  On their heads, bottoms, whatever.  Don't play at it – don't pretend you're gonna, like Tommy—"

"He really is dumb sometimes," she sighed.

"Yeah," Jake snorted.  "But that's what I've learned.  Just don't drop babies.  Really freaks out their mothers."

"You've never dropped a baby, Jake," she reminded.  "I have – not on their heads.  But I've done it," Heather groaned.  "And, you're right, their mothers tend to freak.  Not mine, but that's probably because Mikey was her fifth kid.  Still wasn't happy though."

"Okay, you never told me about this," he chided.  "I need some details."

She groaned again, but acceded to his request after a short pause.  "First time, I was trying to lift Mikey onto the couch – he was like two – and I dunno, he just sorta boomeranged off and bellyflopped on the floor," she explained.  "And then with Rebekah – she was ten months – I dropped her on the lawn, getting her out of the playpen.  But that was Andy's fault," she declared, defending herself.  "Deb asked me to reapply her sunscreen, but she was slippery because Andy'd really glopped it on her when he'd done it the time before.

"That's funny," Jake laughed.

"Not really," Heather grumbled.  "Because you're right, moms don't like it when that happens."

"Babe, Mike's goin' to medical school, Rebekah's always honor roll.  No permanent damage done," he declared, "So, it's funny."  

Neither of them said anything else for a long moment, but finally Jake named the uneasy truth that always hung between them these days.  "I'm gonna hafta go soon.  I don't wanna.  But I still need to." 

"I know, Jake.  It's okay." 

"But not quite yet, 'cause I owe you some sweet talk, right?"

"I thought you'd already started.  You said 'baby' twice," she informed him.  "Just slipped 'em into the conversation like it was nothin'.  I thought that was pretty sweet."

"And here I was beginin' to think you hadn't even noticed," he teased.  "I'll try to keep that in my vocabulary, but no promises."  They were both quiet again for a bit, and then he declared, "I love you, Heather." 

"I love you too, Jake," she returned immediately.  "With everything in me." 

"I love you more – more than my own life."  April had told him to tell her that, as soon as he could, but he didn't explain that part.  He hadn't said it because of April.  He'd said it because it was true.  "But that's because you are my life.  Only the good parts though.  The best parts."

"That's some pretty good sweet talk, Jake.  Jakey," she corrected herself a second later, giggling softly.  He moaned softly in protest, and she laughed harder.  "Sorry, hon," she managed to get out a beat later.  "And I love you that much too.  In fact, I'm gonna love you that much for the rest of my life.  Like my fortune cookie said, 'love can last a lifetime if you want it to' and I definitely want it to."

"Definitely for the rest of our lives, babe.  But," he continued, "If I remember the wording of the specific requirement in question correctly, you're not actually allowed to call me 'Jakey' while I am providing sweet talk, only when you ask for it.  And – and really, why is that part of the requirement anyway?"

"It's just something Stanley said once.  He called you my 'Jakey' and I liked it," she told him.  "But you're right about the requirement – how I wrote it," Heather confessed, "So I'm sorry I went out of bounds."

"I remember that," Jake admitted.  "You were at your uncle's funeral and what he actually said was: 'Your girl's been traumatized and needs some sweet talk from her Jakey'."

"Right on all counts," she confirmed.  "That's exactly what I was thinkin' of when I wrote that requirement.  And I am most definitely your girl.  For the rest of our lives."

"I guess it's okay if you call me 'Jakey'," he conceded, affecting a gruff tone.  "Just not in front of other people, okay?  And never, never in front of Mindy." 

"Oh, good Lord, no," she laughed.  "She loves to call you 'Jakey', if she heard me say it – even just once – she'd never let it go."

"Exactly.  I don't want her thinkin' I might like it."

"So maybe you do like it when I call you that," Heather teased before adding, "Ja-akey."

"Not really," he snorted.  "But if anyone's gonna call me that, I guess you're the one."

"Thanks, hon," she murmured.  Though in the next instance, she demanded, "Wait!  Did Emily Sullivan call you Jakey?  Ever?"

Jake groaned.  "I kinda wish she had.  Then you'd never want to say it again.  But no.  She never called me that." 

"Well, what did she call you?" Heather questioned, obviously working to keep her tone neutral.

"You mean besides 'jerk' or 'asshole'?" he grumbled.  "She pretty much just stuck to 'Jake'."

"Are – are you serious?" she demanded, before answering her own question.  "Well, of course you are.  What a – what a bitch." 

"Yeah, she sure can be," he sighed.  "Though, to be fair, I was sixteen, seventeen, so some of the time I actually was a jerk or an asshole." 

"Even so, the people who love you aren't supposed to say things like that to you," Heather declared.

"The people I love don't say things like that to me," Jake told her.  "And even when I say them about myself, they argue with me about it."

"You're not a jerk, Jake.  Or an asshole," she said, proving his point.

"Sometimes I am, babe," he contradicted, "But I try not to be to you."

"You're not," she repeated.  "And you know, I like 'Jakey' because it's – it's cute, and kinda sweet – both things I know you hate for me to say—"

"I don't hate 'em, not when you're the one saying 'em."

"Well, that's progress," Heather chuckled softly.  "I – it's just – I associate 'Jakey' with you comforting me, and cheering me up after something embarrassing, that's all.  Like you did today.  Like you always have for me."

"But this is one of those things that's just between us, right?" he asked finally, after a long pause.  "Like grilled PB and J?"

"Absolutely," she agreed immediately.  "Just between us.  Exactly like grilled PB and J.  Because I like that you're my Jakey.  And that's just for us.  Or maybe just for me."

"I like that you like that I'm your Jakey.  Though – really – you could just like that I'm your number one Jake. I'd be great with that," he chuckled, his voice a warm rumble in her ear across the more than seven thousand miles that separated them.

"Well, you're that too," Heather informed him.  "I'm greedy, I want both."

"If that's how you do greedy, babe," Jake sighed, "I'm sorry to say, you're doin' it wrong." 

"I don't know about that.  Pretty sure I'm being greedy now, hon," she admitted.  "Because I'm willing to talk about literally anything to keep you on the line.  Even though I know you have stuff you need to do." 

"And the bedtime of a third grader," he groaned.  "But I don't wanna get off the phone either.  We're like two minutes from the 'no you hang up' argument."

"That's really more of a spirited discussion than an argument," she countered with a halfhearted giggle.  "But yeah, I don't want to hang up.  Then I hafta do stuff, like get ready and go to dinner tonight," she complained.  "Worse, I hafta stop talking to you."

"You don't want to go to dinner tonight?" he asked before reminding, "It's your birthday dinner.  It's lasagna."

"I know.  I'm just feeling antisocial today.  And if I didn't know your mom was gonna spend two- or three-hours making lasagna because I asked for it, I'd call in sick or something."

"So, you didn't hear it from me," Jake told her, "But there's a surprise planned for you tonight.  Pretty sure you're gonna like it."

"If you actually quit and snuck home to surprise me, hon, you're doing it wrong," Heather returned, forcing a laugh it was clear she didn't really feel.  "Don't surprise me at Sunday dinner, just show up at home, and I'll call in sick to everything."

"Not that big of a surprise, babe.  Sorry."

"I figured," she murmured.  "And it's getting late for you.  You need to go, Jake."

"Yeah, I do," he grumbled.  "But two more things – two and a half – okay?"

This time her giggle was much more genuine.  "Okay.  But how – I really can't wait to hear how you're gonna tell me half a thing."

"I have three things to tell you, but two are related so I'm pretty sure you'd bust me for not actually telling you three things, if I told you I was gonna tell you three things," he contended.  "How 'bout I have two areas of discussion, and you can decide how many things there are?"

"Oh, I like this game!"

"Thought you would," Jake chuckled.  "Okay, so I'm not gonna have time to respond to all my email tonight, and I pretty much owe everyone at your dinner party tonight email, so let 'em know I'm running behind, okay?"

"It's not a party," she argued, "But I will let them know."

"Thanks.  I'm gonna reply to my dad, even though he's already done for the weekend—"

"I'm pretty sure they're still here," she interjected.  "I can't see cars from here, but I haven't heard anyone leaving."

"You're were supposed to sleep in," he reminded.

"I did.  Got up just before seven to let Baron out, but trust me, I went back to bed.  Pillow over my head to block out the light and everything.  Only got up like a half hour before you called.  Just enough time to make coffee and a toaster waffle," Heather catalogued.  "And see, I'm basically babbling now to keep the conversation going.  Anyway, I'll hear when their vehicles go by."

"Well, I'm glad you slept in.  Sort of."

"I slept in, Jake," she assured, prompting, "You're gonna email your dad back."

"Yeah.  Just because he asked for my opinion, you know?  And I'm gonna forward you an email he sent me the other day," Jake told her.  "It's a weird little story about Gramps and me when I was a kid.  Gramps, Eric and me," he clarified.  "My whole family, really.  I think you'll get a kick out of it.  That, or you're gonna be like 'what kinda crazy family did I end up a part of?'"

"I dunno, pound for pound, my family gives your family a run for its money when it comes to crazy, hon," she laughed softly.  "Probably I'll just get a kick out of it.  Besides I always love hearing about when you were a kid, and your dad's stories are usually pretty good."

"Your family only seems a little more crazy because there are so many more of 'em," he argued.  "But if you read the email and start to question your decision to marry me, remember, it was 'for better or worse'."

"I love being a member of both our families.  And – for the record – you have now told me about three things loosely related to your email.  So, if we weight them each at two-thirds of 'a thing', you have told me two things."

"So now I'm gonna tell you one more thing, okay?  And it's separate thing," he snorted, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.  "That's what I get for telling you to keep score.  Anyway, I have a question – maybe a request."

"Well, a question requires an answer, right?  So, if a question is half a thing, and the answer is the other half of the same thing, then you were right all along," she declared.  "Two and a half things.  So, whaddya need, Jake?"

"I need – I want – a date," he replied.  "With you.  So can we have breakfast together on Tuesday?"

"Sure," Heather answered, laughing.  "How're we gonna do that, hon?  Unless you've been lying this whole call and you really have quit your job?"

"Sorry, but I'm not lying to you?" Jake returned.  "This is gonna be by Skype, babe.  Meet me in the kitchen with your coffee and your laptop, okay?  Six AM, Kansas time."  Jake allowed a heavy sigh.  "Sorry 'bout the time, too."

"Time's fine for me, Jake," she dismissed, "Maybe I wake up ten minutes early, just to be safe.  But what about you?  That's two in the afternoon for you, before you're usually off."

"I worked overtime this weekend," he reminded.  "I can't be there for your birthday – and I hate that – so I'm gonna be available here for your birthday."

"Okay then," she acknowledged.  "And, I must admit, I'm very excited for our Skype breakfast date," she proclaimed.  "I'll probably be ready to go at five forty-five.  Really can't wait, Jake."

"Good," he said, sounding relieved.  "And, I'm off at one thirty, my reservation on the booth is for one thirty, and I'll call you – Skype you – as soon as I get there.  We can keep having breakfast until you need to leave."

"Well, it's Field Day and my birthday, so I won't be doing my usual of being there a half hour early.  Maybe I won't even leave here until seven oh five – or seven ten."

"Wild woman," Jake teased.  "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

"Hey!" Heather protested, "I can be wild.  I just – I choose my moments," she declared somewhat primly.

"And I love the moments you choose, babe."  He heaved a long sigh before admitting, "I probably should go."

"Yeah, I know," she murmured.  "I love you, Jake.  And I miss you, and I can't wait to see you!"

"I love you, too," he replied, "And I miss you, and I can't wait to see you, either."  He exhaled in frustration but didn't say anything else.

Finally, Heather asked, "You need me to hang up this time, hon?"

"I just don't wanna," he admitted.

"That's okay," she soothed.  "So, I'm gonna say 'goodbye', and then you're gonna say 'goodbye', and then I'm gonna hang up, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed.  "I probably won't have time to talk tomorrow night, but I'll email you—"

"Hey, we're having breakfast together on Tuesday.  I'll be fine with just email tomorrow.  I love you," she added a beat later.  "Good night, Jake."

"Love you, too.  Bye, babe."

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

From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:31 (UTC-5)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: FW: Ganymede

Attachments:

Hey Babe -

This is the email I told you about.

I told Dad that when we have kids he's not allowed to tell them these kind of stories.  He said if he's still allowed (after yesterday) to tell his grandkids stories he'll make sure they are appropriate for children. My dad really cares what you think of him.  You know that right?

Dad says we were 5 and a half when this happened.  A couple of weeks before we started Kindergarten.  Means you were at least born.  (More important of a fact to me than going Kindergarten.) 

I don't know why he thinks the Greeks are any better for naming horses after but I'm not going to tell him to go brush up on his Greek mythology.  He did say he was glad you're naming our foals now.

And remember if you start thinking you married into the loony bin it's "for better or worse".     

Love you

Jake

[FORWARDED MESSAGE FOLLOWS]

From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Fri Jun 02 16:11 (UTC+3)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Jake,

I had to look up Tiberius to see how he was related to Caligula and Nero, couldn't remember.  I'd forgotten just how odd all those Roman Empire family relationships could be.  Makes our squabbles look like squabbles.

. . .

 From: Jake Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:34 (UTC+3)

To: Johnston Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments: 

Hi Dad

I talked to Heather and she doesn't blame you for what happened.  I blame myself even though she doesn't blame me either.  I shouldn't have told you to breed Ganymede.  That was too much to ask.  I think we need another stud on the ranch but it could have waited until next season.

Heather asked if you should breed Callisto and I said no.  We have 15 or 20 other mares that can still be bred over the next 4 to 6 weeks.  That's more than you could get to just working weekends.  You did better than I expected to breed 5 mares including using Ganymede twice yesterday.

Go along with whatever Doc Hansen says.  He's actually there and he knows what he's doing.  I know you know that.  You and Gramps probably told me that when I was a 17yo punk.  I'm glad the Sharpes are going to keep Tom busy at the stables.  If I were in charge of him he'd be mucking out stalls for eternity.

I forwarded your email to Heather just so you know.  Don't worry you're still allowed to babysit when we have kids.

Jake

 From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 21:06 (UTC+3)

To: Heather Green (home)

Subject: RE: I wanted to change it but ... no ideas

Attachments:

Mrs. Green –

I told you I'm not a cowboy for the technical reason that I don't have cows.  But I'll be your Cowboy Jake forever.  And I'm not committing that other nickname that is seriously just between us to an email that could end up being read aloud in federal court.  Also when this thing goes to trial you're not allowed to attend this time Babe.  Just because if you do they might adopt a legal strategy of asking me about our email exchange.  Particularly since I'm giving them the idea. 

I'm greedy.  I only want you blushing for me.  And you let me know when I've gone too far ok?

Scarecrow and Mrs. King was one of Mom's favorite shows.  So I have seen it.  Every episode.  My parents have only ever had 1 tv (at a time) remember.  Now you have me convinced that my parents probably think that's what my job is like.  Just so you know it's not.  You aren't old enough to have seen that show first run so I assume there were reruns on TV Land or something.

I usually look at my other account first.  Only because this is a new thing for us – flirting on this account. (And I don't flirt with every woman I meet.  Just you.)  I told you I read your email first.  Then I worry about all the crap everyone else sends me.  That's the reason why I now have an Auntie Gretchen.  She didn't think I was answering her as quickly as she wanted.  But she figured me out and realized why I was checking my other account first.  She's my work mom after all.  And I hope they do ask me to explain what I mean by that under oath someday.  She's going to hate the answer.

Your Mike goes to med school story was perfect.  I'm sorry I had to ask you to do that.

I forgot to ask about your dad's response to your promotion news when we talked earlier.  I bet he's as proud of you as I am.  I heard from Mike and I know how proud of you he is.  But tell me about everything your dad said.  And he is so going to brag on you at church.  To widows and orphans and anyone who will listen.

I started answering this email before 9, so don't bust me too bad Babe for sending it just after.

Have a good birthday dinner.  Enjoy your lasagna and the cake and your surprise.  Can't wait to read all about it tomorrow.

I love love love you.

Jake

aka Heather Green's Cowboy Jake

From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 21:20 (UTC+3)

To: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA)

Subject: RE: My Status

Attachments:

Ange

Been a busy weekend and I figured you deserved to have it for yourself, Steve and Christopher.  Also I've been working my ass off to make up for Tuesday.  I got to talk to Heather for 45 minutes tonight which is why I'm emailing you so late.  Totally worth it though.

I think you're right – we're friends.  So as your friend and as a guy married to an admitted geek I think I can tell you that you are married to a nerd.  Steve is only the 2nd person (Heather is the 1st) to send me an email that says "pun intended".  That's a nerd move.  He also really liked "pound sand".  But the real clue is that he wanted to tell his sister to "take a long walk off a short pier".  That sounds like something my Grandpa would say.  So you and I can be the non-nerds in each of our marriages and friends too ok?

Steve wants to talk the horse breeding business with me when this assignment is over.  Sounds good.  Give me a month or so at home alone with Heather and then you guys are invited to Kansas to spend a weekend or a week if you can swing it on a horse ranch.  We can all go riding and you can meet my mother and the rest of the family.

Still trying to figure out exactly how to manage Tuesday.  Everyone keeps telling me to Skype with Heather because it's all she wants for her birthday.  I'm hoping to swing a second Skype session with her from my secure location.  So we can do our call before that – say 0300 Baghdad / 1800 Denver?

And now so you don't have to bug me about getting sleep I'm going to bed.

Oh just in case.  Double check the names of Joseph Lind's sons for the website the triplets are putting up.  Heather named every one of her brothers on the phone tonight.  So Andrew, Thomas and John.  Michael is the one who is going to be a doctor.

Jake

 From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 19:57 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Ganymede

Attachments:

Jake,

I'll keep you posted on what I decide to do as far as breeding for the rest of this month.  That seems to be of interest to you.

I doubt you will appreciate this, but I am also going to offer you a piece of unsolicited advice: you might want to put a little of the energy and thought you put into your job and the ranch into your wife and marriage.  I unintentionally overheard some of Heather's discussion with your mother and April this evening, and she is clearly missing you.  I wouldn't want to see you ruin through neglect the most important relationship of your life. 

And selfishly, I like Heather.  I think she is good for you, and that you are good for her.  I would also one day enjoy having grandkids to tell stories to.

Dad

From: Gail Green

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:18 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: Heather's Birthday Dinner

Attachments:

 Jake, honey –

It was so nice to chat with you this morning.  I just had to say that.  I hope it's not too annoying to you that I said it.  And, yes, I am picturing you as a 10-year-old, embarrassed beyond belief because I tried to kiss you goodbye when I dropped you off at Little League. 

You might not believe me now, but there will come a day, Jake, when your child is suddenly embarrassed to hold your hand around other people, or even at all.  That day is actually one of the worst days of your life.

I think Heather's birthday dinner was a success, in particular the conference call with the Lisinskis.  

Heather, April and I had a nice chat before dinner.  I will admit, we were working hard to keep her out of the dining room so she wouldn't discover the conference phone too early.  But I figured if I asked about her day, and just kept asking questions, we could distract her.  She said that she'd had a peanut butter sandwich after you 2 talked for almost an hour.  I think the peanut butter was in your honor, though maybe Heather was always as much of a peanut butter fiend as you.  I should have thought to ask Joe.  Maybe I will email him with that question.

She told us all about your discussion of the ranching business.  I would have thought that you had other more important topics to discuss, but it is quite sweet how interested she is in the business.  A few of the things she said I'm pretty sure I've never heard either, so it was educational for me.  She specifically said that she likes how you explain things to her and then how the 2 of you discuss those things.

Then she mentioned your stance on teenagers, or at least teenage boys, and how you apologized to her for your future teenagers' behavior.  She said something about "how in 20 years or so when we have teenagers" and then about how she didn't want you to feel like you needed to apologize.  Honestly, I couldn't completely follow her logic.  Sometimes I think Heather thinks so fast I can't keep up with her. 

I panicked a little.  Not just because your love letter was sitting in my purse (my purse was upstairs in our bedroom – she wasn't likely to get anywhere near it) but because April was there, and I know she and Eric are dealing with some disappointment because so far April hasn't been able to conceive.  Heather seemed to be thinking the same thing, and she was trying to get us off that topic but she continued talking about how you shouldn't have to apologize.  So, I just switched the discussion to the story of how you got your name.  I also talked about how we decided on Eric's name. 

You should know that Heather told us she's missing you, and she got a little weepy.  She also got annoyed with herself over it.  I told her she was allowed to miss you, and that it's better that she misses you than that she resigns herself to you being gone.  That seems worse, at least to me.  She also said that you offered to quit your job and get on a plane last week.  I know she turned you down, and I hope you realize that's a sign of how much she loves you.  If she'd accepted the offer, I would be worried.  Since she didn't, I'm not.

Now Jake, why you felt the need to share that Roman Orgy story with Heather, I will never know.  But at least she seemed amused by it.  I however re-lived just how appalled I was at the time it originally happened.  I loved EJ dearly, but that was not his finest moment. 

We had a lovely hour on the conference call with the Lisinskis.  I felt bad that Bonnie was excluded, but Stanley signed a lot of what was being said to her, and she fully participated in the conversation while we were having dinner and birthday cake.  The Lisinskis all seem to be doing well.  Michael sounds very busy as an EMT, and he's also excited about starting medical school in just 2 months.  We got an update on little Megan.  I must admit I had to remind myself to remain calm.  Kerry sounds like such a great mother, and I have no doubt that Heather will be too. 

Okay, I think I am probably getting myself in forbidden territory, so I will sign off for now. 

Love Mom

From: Heather Green (home)

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:51 (UTC-5)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Sunday Dinner

Attachments:

Hi Jake,

Dinner was better than I was expecting and not just because of my surprise.  That was a really great surprise, by the way.  I almost typed that the only way it would have been better is if you had called in too, but that's not exactly true.  I got to talk to you for 45 minutes with no one else listening in (that I'm aware of anyway).  I love our families but they do not need to be THAT involved in our life.  As you say, some things are just for us.

I love how our families get along, even though that 2 location/22 person conference call was kind of crazy.  But it was the good kind of crazy, lots of laughter and jokes and good feelings.  April and my dad both said it was your idea to do the call, so thank you for that.  Now all I want for my birthday is my family conference call (that I already got) and my birthday breakfast Skype with my husband (and favorite person in this and any universe) plus hopefully another call or 2 from that same husband.  If that makes me greedy then I guess I'm greedy.

Your email address was a much bigger topic than I would have ever expected it could be especially at a family dinner supposedly in my honor (I'm totally teasing, Hon).  Eric seems a little obsessed with both your email address and job title.  He actually asked me if I knew you were an Agent.  (How could I possibly not know that?)  So, I got to tell him you are actually a Senior Agent, which I then found out is not something you ever bothered to share with your parents.  Your mom is now really wondering why your talents are being wasted driving a truck. (And to be clear she was wondering that before.)  I decided against asking her if she thought you should be doing more Lee Stetson type stuff at work, but that was super hard for me (and it's all your fault, it would never have occurred to me if you hadn't said that's what your parents think your job is in your email).  Also, Lee Stetson totally goes with Cowboy Jake. 

I didn't know that April also uses your DEA email to communicate with you, but she seems to have adopted the same rules I use to figure out which account to email you at.  She said "things that might involve Jake’s real job need to go to the DEA account".  I agreed and then added that I send anything financial to your DEA account.  I probably did a really bad job explaining it, but I told them that your undercover identity has its own financial accounts, so it would be weird if someone were monitoring that email if I emailed you about our finances.  As an example, I finally just told them that I sent everything about the vice principal appointment to your DEA account, at which point your parents and Eric all said that they had emailed you about the promotion at your personal account and Stanley and Bonnie asked "what promotion?"

So that was interesting.  I hope it isn't causing you problems that they all emailed you at your personal account.  I guess as long as they didn't mention the total lack of additional compensation it's fine.  We discussed the promotion on your regular phone after all.  Stanley and Bonnie were very congratulatory, and Stanley had the exact same response as you – he actually asked me if Mrs. McVeigh wanted me to be vice principal so I'd have to fire Mrs. Walker!  Do you guys have a pact about this?  Like "we will not rest until she is forced to retire"?  I really should be appalled by the idea (she is a colleague), but I must admit I'm giggling.  Understand that I have in mind a very specific picture/photo of you 2 from when you were 12 or 13 as I consider how this particular pact came about.  (It's one of the photos in your mom's mini-portrait gallery on the wall between yours and Eric's old bedrooms.  April and I call it "The Wall o' Boys" or sometimes "The Wall o' Gail's Boys".)

Also, I wasn't surprised that Stanley doesn't have your DEA email address, but why doesn't he have your personal email address?  He's your best friend, you guys are allowed to communicate without going through me.  You call each other on the phone, you hang out.  Why don't you email?  I gave it to him and to Bonnie.  So, I figure you will at least get email from her.  (Boy friendships are so weird.)  But at least I now know that there's no way he could have emailed you about yesterday.

OK, I need to back up to the beginning.  Your mom told me to make sure I was there by 5 pm (obviously I now understand that it was for the conference call) but I actually got to your parents' at about 4:20. I took Baron with me, and I came in through the kitchen even though I always immediately shoo him out of the kitchen.  I don't mind having him in the kitchen at the ranch, but I always worry that your mom is going to be bothered, and I have no idea why.  She's literally never said anything.  Anyway, I was going to take him right into the dining room and then to the living room, but April stole the leash from me and said she'd do it.  It was weird, but I figured out later it was because Eric and your dad were setting up the conference phone in the dining room.  I love our family.  They really were dedicated to making the surprise a surprise for me.  It was so incredibly sweet. 

So, I ended up hanging out with your mom and April in the kitchen for a long time.  They were not going to let me leave the room, and they wouldn't let me do anything either, kept reminding me that this dinner was to celebrate my birthday.  They asked what I'd done today and I basically said "Ate a toaster waffle for breakfast and a peanut butter sandwich for lunch.  Took a shower.  Talked to Jake." 

They wanted to know all about our conversation.  Of course, I didn't tell them everything, or even most of it.  But I said that we'd talked about "the incident" and then you had told me about your reasoning for developing Ganymede as a stud and not breeding Callisto until next year.  Also, I somehow ended up telling them about you apologizing for teenagers you really have no influence with (particularly Tom Sharpe) and then moving on to apologize for our future teenagers' behavior.  But I really didn't want to dwell on that too much especially around April. 

She told me yesterday that she'd bitten the bullet and asked Maureen Clement which fertility specialist she'd recommend. (In case you don't know this, Dr. Clement is the only obstetrician/gynecologist in Jericho.  I mostly just go see April as my doctor, but she makes me go see Dr. Clement if it's for my pap smear :-P )  April of course wants to go to somebody at KUMC, but she also wants to make sure they see the best specialist possible so she figured she'd ask Dr. Clement's opinion. 

I know I can talk to April about these things, but until you and I have our chance to talk and make some decisions why should I torture her with our potential future plans, right?  Especially when her plan with Eric has not worked out.  He seems like he's in denial about the fact that she hasn't been able to get pregnant.  Maybe I am being silly, but I just don't want to discuss us having kids with April when we haven't actually made any decisions about timing ourselves.

The odd thing is that your mom totally changed the subject then and told us the story of how you were named Jake (and technically how Eric was named Eric – apparently he was almost named Walter after your maternal grandfather, and that was your dad's idea too.) 

I mean, I was going on about how you don't need to apologize for what our so far nonexistent kids might do 20 years from now, how I don't want you apologizing for that – it's not something where we should assess blame EVER, and I must have been really overanalyzing because they were both giving me that "you're cute when you're splitting hairs on an atomic/subatomic level, Heather" look that I only get from your side of the family.  Of course, my side has had way more years to get used to me, and you've always understood me even when I go off on these tangents (that or you're good at faking it). 

Anyway, your mom suddenly launched into the story.  She did say that you told her I'd like to hear it from her, and April was interested too.  I can't really do it justice in an email, and you've heard it before, I know (but maybe there will be something new in here for you).  Your mom said they debated your name for months, and that she always wanted to name you after your dad, which your dad resisted for a long time.  He was arguing for Walter, but your mom kept pointing out that your cousin Jerry's first name is actually Walter (I did not know that).  Finally, your mom declared that as "she who has to give birth" she got to pick your name.  Your dad could veto but it was her choice.  I guess your dad wasn't quite willing to veto her choice, but he did want you to have a separate identity and not just be called "Junior".  He really felt strongly about that, she said, so I guess that was his hang up all along.  She also said that they'd agreed to call you Jacob but that the week before you were born, he was reading a novel with a character named Jake that he liked (both the character and the book) and so the night before you were born, he said how about Jake instead of Jacob (aww!) and that you (or Eric – hard to say) "kicked in approval". Your mom even said that was when she knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were a boy, you just turned out to be 2 boys.  So it was all decided, and they still thought they had 2 weeks or so until you would be born, but your mom woke him up 4 hours later and told him it was time to go.  :-)  (I asked her the name of the novel and she didn't know.  Then I forgot to ask your dad.) 

Of course, then they had to have the name debate all over again because there were 2 of you.  Walter was discussed again, and your mom almost went with it.  At the last minute she counter-proposed naming Eric after Gramps, and having already gotten her to agree to call you Jacob and then Jake, your dad relented.  I guess your Grandpa Walt also approved, so it was pretty easy to agree on Eric, given that Gramps always went by EJ.  Your mom did say that your dad suggested O'Brien as a first name for Eric but that literally hearing it said out loud (by him), he changed his mind.  I reminded your mom about Mrs. Owensby and Johnston Jr.  and she was extra thankful that she hadn't agreed to the name "O'Brien Jacob Green" given her "drug addled state".  (Also dodged the initials OJ thankfully.)  April then vowed that there will be no Glendenning Green and I also vowed that there will be no Lisinski Green.  Mother's maiden name only works as a first name in very specific cases! 

The really sad part (at least to me) is that your mom told us that if they had had a daughter, they had always known that her name would be Susan, after your dad's sister.  I am not sorry that you're Jake or that Eric is Eric, but I am sorry that your parents didn't get to have a "little Susie".  (And I know Gramps and surely your Grandma Betsy would have loved that.) 

OK, so I'm putting this here strategically so it's not the first thing I tell you about and it's not the last thing I tell you about either.  I don't want you feeling bad about this.  This is just me being honest about how I am feeling, OK?  You said that it freaks you out if I won't tell you how I'm feeling, so I'm telling you.  But you don't need to do anything to fix this.

I got a little misty at that moment.  Part of it was thinking about Gramps and how much he loved his little Susie.  He would have loved having a granddaughter named Susie too.  So, I was thinking about him and how disappointed he and your grandmother must have been when your parents couldn't have more kids.  (Of course, I'm sure your parents were disappointed too.)  And part of it is that I miss you.  I'm supposed to miss you.  If we start not missing each other, that's when we will have a problem.  Your mom even said that to me.  So, I had a moment when I got a little teary, and it's not a big deal.  If April or your mom tell you about it, don't be upset. 

I told them that I miss you.  I even told them that you offered to quit and that you were completely serious about it.  I am 1000% sure if I had said "yes" you would have quit and gotten on the next plane.  So just because I admitted to them that there's a small selfish part of me that I try to keep locked down that was really urging me to tell you yes, you should quit, that doesn't mean that's how the rest of me feels.  100% of me misses you pretty much all the time you're gone.  100% of me loves you all the time.  And 99.5% of me knows that the guy I married has this job that he's good at and enjoys doing, and I'm not going to interfere with that.  So, if you hear about it from either of them, do not feel bad, and don't quit your job, OK?  I'd rather love you all the time, miss you all the time you're gone, but also get to look forward to the time we do get together.  And enjoy the heck out of the time we get, when we get it – that's important too.  :-)  What I don't want is to be married to someone who resents me for being too needy or clingy.

So that happened.  And I really wanted to get us all past it, so I mentioned the Roman Orgy bedtime story to your mom.  Oh my goodness, I have never seen her react like that.  She was pissed!  She couldn't believe that your dad had emailed you about it, and then given permission to share that email with me.  She really didn't understand why I think it is hilarious (and not scandalous/embarrassing).  Finally, I had to tell her that I don't even agree with you about Greek mythology being inappropriate for kids. 

I probably shouldn't admit this – Greek mythology is not specifically on the approved curriculum at the Elementary (but it is also not forbidden) – but I love teaching all the mythologies/epic tales.  And Greek mythology is the best (closely followed by Norse).  8/9-year-old boys love Greek mythology.  You've got the minotaur in the labyrinth, and the Trojan Horse full of Greeks.  You've got Odysseus lashing himself to the mast of his ship so he can hear the Sirens' song without drowning himself – so swashbuckling!  You've got Icarus and his wings.  What's not to love?  And then you get to Dionysus being born out of Zeus's thigh, and little boys (and about half of little girls) are totally into it.  It's both gross and cool.  Kids don't notice all the sex/incest/rape/ violence.  And I do heavily edit, which is exactly what Gramps did.  He wasn't trying to tell you a story that was inappropriate, he was trying to be entertaining.  And I agree Nero and Caligula should be edited/mostly skipped, but I trust us and our family to figure out how to do that.  Now, you might be thinking "who the heck did I marry?", but I definitely put this story in the "for better" column, Jake, promise.  

Besides, you do realize that even when I name foals after celestial objects, half of them still end up named after figures in Greek (or Roman) mythology, right?  Your horse is named Agamemnon.  I know you know the origin of the name!  Your dad is totally allowed to tell our kids stories from Greek mythology.

That was about when Stanley and Bonnie arrived, and I was finally allowed into the dining room.  Not only was it set up with the conference phone (which was so confusing at first) but they'd strung up a "Happy Birthday" sign, and put up balloons, basically all the things your mom does for a birthday dinner.  It's the same sort of thing my mom would have done too, which just makes it that much more meaningful to me.  So even though I keep saying it wasn't a party, maybe it was a birthday party.  I guess we were supposed to call at 5:30, but since we were all ready to go at 5:15, April tried phoning – everyone was gathered at John and Kerry's for dinner this week – and they were all ready to go, so we got started early. 

We talked for over an hour.  Everyone got to tell their news, the kids first, and it was just a lot of fun.  Joey talked for 3 minutes (until John said enough) about his Matchbox/Hot Wheels cars.  Apparently, they all have names and are assigned specific spots in his room, and he was so serious about all of it.  It was adorable.  And Gabby told us about her swim lessons (she went last week and is also going this week).  Deb added that at the end of each lesson the kids are allowed (if they want) to climb up to the high dive and jump off into the 20 feet deep pool, and Gabby always does and then kind of dog paddles to the side and is so happy and proud of herself.  I think I would be a little scared to let my 3-and-a-half-year-old do that, and I said so, and then Andy said something about how the 3rd kid is the expendable one.  (And yes, he got in major trouble for that.  You don't drop babies, and you don't joke about babies accidentally drowning themselves.)

We heard from all the kids (and yes, Rebekah made honor roll once again, so you're right) plus Kerry gave an update on Megan – including telling me that I was required to give you all the details on our goddaughter (as if I wouldn't).  So, she is "sitting up like a champ" and seems to be trying to crawl, though when Kerry said that, John said that she misfires – like she can't coordinate her arms and legs yet.  She'll try to move forward with just her legs and then kind of face plants.  They also said that she is just so happy. Kerry said that last night at dinner she was squealing and then laughing at her own squealing and so they were all laughing (even Joey) every time she laughed.  She said it went on for nearly a half hour.  (She squealed for us and all of us laughed so I know it's true.)  Kerry swears she knows her name now, but everyone else pooh-poohed that.  Well, I believe her, and so did my dad and your parents.  (Your dad even called Megan a "little sweetheart".  I guess my dad sent him some pictures.) But everyone else was skeptical that our goddaughter is so developmentally advanced. (What's wrong with them??) 

After that we got into the adults.  Most interesting was that Mandy is apparently going back to school (this floors me, Mandy has never been the studious type) to get a master's in social work.  But ever since Hannah's been going to preschool (Kindergarten in the fall), Mandy has been volunteering with Catholic Charities in their family services programs (I knew that, but didn't realize it had been 2 years) and she feels like she's found her calling.  They have offered her a part time paid position and she can do that and get her master's at the same time, plus she'll get credit toward her degree for most/all of her work hours, particularly when she's leading training or working with clients.  (I honestly didn't know she'd moved into that kind of role.)  Tommy was kind of quiet about it, so I'm going to email him next to yell at him.  He needs to take a page from your book and put his supportive husband hat on.  Mandy also was so serious in her congratulations to me about the vice principal appointment, plus she was generally complimentary to me both professionally and personally.  I finally asked her if I was dying and were they all now going to say nice things about me before breaking that news to me.  April rolled her eyes and told me I'm not dying, so that's good.

Still, the "everyone say nice things about Heather" part of the evening kept going, and lasted a little too long for my taste, but that's OK.  Just before we ended the call (I wanted to eat) Mikey announced that you have been sending him inappropriate emails.  Eric wanted to know which account you email him from and was annoyed to hear that it was your DEA account.  (I guess he feels like he is the last to know about it? Also, I didn't know that you email Mikey from your DEA account.) 

I was skeptical about this accusation, so I asked what was so inappropriate about your emails and he wouldn't tell me.  I assume that I should chalk this up to one of those "guy things" that I wouldn't understand?  And Mikey's just being a pill, right?  I mean, I don't really think you're actually emailing my brother about inappropriate topics/things.  It was just a weird accusation (and admittedly, he sounded sort of like he was joking), especially as part of my birthday conference call.

The lasagna was delish, the strawberry lemonade cake was really good especially because the strawberries in the middle were perfectly in season.  Your mom made a point of saying that you told her to get it because I liked it, so thank you.  It was really the best family dinner birthday I could have had without you there.  (Don't feel guilty about something that is just a fact, Jake.  I really did have a much better time than I ever thought I would.) 

Dad is very proud about my appointment as vice principal, and he even told me that he can't wait to tell his co-workers/co-volunteers on the Gardens and Grounds team at church about it.  I didn't know he was on the Gardens and Grounds team now.  He says he joined a few months ago.  The head of the team needed help fixing the lawnmower, and then Dad tuned up the weedwhacker for them, and then they asked if he'd like to join officially.  Turns out they are all around his age, and there is one married couple, another widower, and three widows.  So, while I still stand by my claim that my father doesn't specifically chat up widows at church, you are also right in that he's at least going to brag to some of them.  Can we just both be right on this one?  For my birthday? ;-) 

I'm greedy for time together with you, too, which is how I choose to interpret that statement about me blushing only for you.  (I realize there are other ways to interpret that, but we're not getting into that here.)  Looking forward to seeing you, and if I blush, then I blush.  And if me blushing is your goal, I suggest you start planning what you're going to say to me at breakfast, mister!

I love you x infinity,

Heather

 From: Agent A Beltran-Waller (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]

Sent: Sun Jun 04 20:17 (UTC-6)

To: Agent JJ Green (DEA)

Subject: Not Work (mostly)

Attachments:

Jake,

I can do a call at 1800 on Tuesday.  You might get to say hi to Christopher because we're on our own for another week.  I'll make sure we're home and if I am forced to feed my kid a corn dog and an ice cream sandwich for dinner, he'll be happy about that.

I really am available to you when you need me, but still I appreciated getting to have a family weekend.  Steve's on his way back to DC, probably landing about now, but it was good to have the time.  I know you want that same sort of time with Heather so sorry about my bragging, and I'm very glad to hear that you 2 got the chance for a long-ish talk.

I actually saw your email in time to tell Steve that we had been invited to visit the Green Ranch so he could get a lesson on the horse business.  He was excited – even about your offer to take us riding.  I wasn't expecting that.  It's funny how you can love someone so much and then randomly learn some new aspect of their personality.  I knew he liked to fish, but I didn't know that he had boyhood dreams of being a cowboy.

You're right, he is a nerd – hell, he's a CPA.  But he's also an FBI agent, certified to carry a weapon in the field and he actually has better marksmanship scores than me.  And yes, he likes his puns and his old-fashioned phrases.  It's the weirdest combination and I love it all.  Including the fishing (only thing he has in common with my dad) and the desire to take up horseback riding at 43.     

I'm glad we're friends, Jake. 

I'm awarding the prize to Triplet #3.  You'll find out exactly what that prize is later.  I didn't have Heather's brothers' names because you told me not to contact her, but I will have Triplet #1 (really good at web design) update the site first thing.  I'm also going to have them work on blending the best parts of all their proposals together so we're ready to back you up whenever you start to rachet things up.  We'll have a 2nd draft proposal to you right after Heather's birthday.  Do you need me to do anything to support this plan?  Are you bringing in the rest of your family on the plot to resurrect your grandfather, or just Heather?  I'm not recommending that (seems risky either way), but I can't intercept any of your email without your permission (and even if I could, I wouldn't) and that seems like the thing that could be our biggest headache.  Let me know what I can do to help you. 

Talk to you soon,

Ange

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To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 5.

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 2023 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

First a confession.  Although Ben Gunnison is not a real person, I actually feel really bad about what I did to him.  It wasn't really his fault that he suggested a pre-nuptial agreement / pre-marital contract.  It really was mean of me.  Just know that neither Jake nor Heather were very rational in that moment (frankly, neither was Gramps) and so Ben got to endure a little yelling.  His hourly bill rate is quite high, though, so don't feel too bad for him.  (Besides, he is a fictional character, completely from my imagination.)

If you're dying to know exactly what Jake's note / love letter to Heather says, all I can say is that I can't show it to you until Heather gets to see it herself.  But you will get to see it, so please remain patient. :-)  It's coming!

If you are interested in knowing more about horse breeding, I wrote about it (perhaps in a little too much detail) at the end of Long Distance Relationship, Part 3.  Please look there for the information I thought was important enough to share

Ever since Jake's conversation/verbal sparring match with Hawkins while they were trying to put out fire at April's and Eric's house in Federal Response and they both claimed to be "pool guys" I have had in the back of my mind that Jake was a lifeguard at the public pool in Jericho.  I even snuck in an exchange between Hawkins and Jake where Jake says he did his time as a lifeguard at the community center and taught Dale to swim into Different Circumstances, Part 6B.  (I also knew that Eric was a lifeguard at the country club at the same time Jake was lifeguarding at the community pool, I just never managed to work it into the story before now.)  I know none of these details is canon, but – hello! – I'm writing an alternate universe, so there are a lot of non-canon details in this story. 

Jake's reference to Heather kissing 'the M and M boy' is another (non-canon) reference to Heather's former boyfriend, Mark Metzger, who is mentioned in Different Circumstances, Part 5B and encountered (while they are in Buffalo) in Different Circumstances, Part 14G.

Heather and Jake are mostly remembering where 'Jakey' came from correctly.  Stanley is the one who nicknames Jake that in Different Circumstances, Part 11D.  Of course, the nickname really originates with Mindy Henry (non-canon), who refers to Jake as 'Jakey' in Different Circumstances, Parts 4B, 8B, and 12C.  So pretty much every time Mindy has appeared on page in the Different Circumstances saga, and presumably many times before, given her long friendship with Jake and her affinity for the nickname.  If you don't recall, Mindy was the 7 year old who hung around while Jake was washing dishes at The Pizza Garden back in the day.

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