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Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 6
by Marzee Doats
Author's Note:
I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I think there will be four total, but you never know, it could end up being five). Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 400 pages and now 9 or 10 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.
This is also a slightly shorter (for me, recently) chapter, but I am trying to post on a monthly basis and while I've been busy writing I find that I need to break my latest/longest chapter ever (I checked!) into two. So instead of 60-some pages to read, this time you're getting around 30 pages to read. But you're also guaranteed some reading in March, too. 😊
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 story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship. Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas (and Buffalo NY is an hour ahead of Jericho) so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day.
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Tuesday June 6, 5:41 am (Jericho KS) / Tuesday June 6, 1:41 pm (Baghdad Iraq)
3 and a half months before the bombs
Heather yawned, catching herself thinking about being nine years old and looking forward to going to a week of Girl Scout sleepaway camp. The night before she'd been scheduled to depart, she hadn't slept well, waking numerous times, and so she had been primed for a mini-meltdown when her mother had come into her room to wake her, and had asked if she knew what day it was. Heather had burst into tears. Somehow, she had convinced herself that she had managed to sleep entirely through Saturday and had missed the bus that would take her away on her grand adventure. It had taken her mother nearly ten minutes to convince her that she was, in fact, up and ready to go with time to spare. Heather had made it to camp that year – and for a number of years following – but now that same giddy feeling, that same nagging worry that she would miss out, had returned with a vengeance as she awaited her first opportunity in over a month to actually lay eyes on her husband, even if it was only by video chat.
She hadn't slept well the night before – much like when she'd been a little girl – too excited with the anticipation of the day ahead and – most importantly – her Skype date with Jake. She'd stayed up later than she'd planned, too, taking a bubble bath but also completing her award certificates, calligraphy and all. So, it had been nearly eleven when her head had finally hit the pillow. She'd gone right to sleep, only to awaken ninety minutes later and then at approximately twenty-minute intervals thereafter. Heather, yawning again, realized she'd probably pay for that today – and Field Day was truly the worst day to not have her complete wits about her – but she also found it hard to care that she would be sleepwalking through her day.
Suddenly, three things happened simultaneously: the toaster finished and popped up her toasted bread; the coffee maker beeped its completion; and her laptop – strategically positioned on the near end of the farmhouse table – rang with the tone that signaled an incoming Skype call. All thoughts of preparing her coffee – she'd staked out the machine, eager for that first sip of caffeinated bliss – flew out of Heather's head and she dropped her mug on the counter, where it made a sharp, loud sound, but luckily didn't break. She sprinted across the kitchen calling out, "Don't hang up, don't hang up, don't hang up," as the call continued to ring through.
Heather, her hand shaking, banged hard on the trackpad, furiously working to get her mouse pointer to the answer button. '"Don't hang up, Jake. Please don't hang up," she begged as her laptop connected. "I'm here! Don't hang up!"
"Babe!" Jake called in return, his face materializing on her screen, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hang up. I was just gonna let it ring, long as I needed to."
She dropped into the chair at the end of the table, exhaling deeply in relief. "Hey, you," she greeted, smiling widely. "It's so good to see you!"
"It's great to see you," Jake countered, his grin as big as hers. "Happy Birthday, Heather," he continued, sighing softly as he drank in the sight of his wife. "You look great!" he declared. "Gorgeous! And, you've got the fancy hair goin' on. I love it."
Flipping the end of her French braid over her shoulder, Heather rolled her eyes. "Liar," she accused cheerfully. "You hate it when I wear my hair like this. You hate it if I just pull it back in a ponytail or use a barrette or a clip," she catalogued. "You only like my hair when you can play with it."
"I don't always play with your hair," he protested.
"Uh huh. Sure," she grinned in return.
"Can't play with it now," her husband reminded. "But it still looks nice. I can at least like how you look from here, right?"
"Absolutely! You are always allowed to like how I look from anywhere you are. Plus, you can tell me that you like how I look – that is always allowed, too."
"I love how you look, babe. Always and forever."
"Right back atcha, hon," Heather declared. "And I promise to wear my hair so you can play with it as much as you want, as soon as we're in the same place, 'kay?"
"Thanks," Jake sighed. "And you know, I like your hair 'cause it's attached to you. Plus, it's soft and always smells nice."
"Well, that's good," she giggled. "That you like my hair because it's attached to me. I appreciate that."
"I actually like – love – everything that is attached to you," he told her. "Because I love you and everything about you. From the hair on the top of your head to—"
"Well, I'm gonna stop you right there, mister," his wife interrupted. "Because there are certain things that we only discuss in person, and I'm pretty sure that's where you're heading with this."
"You think I was gonna launch into a soliloquy about my favorite parts of your body?" Jake teased. "That's—"
"It wouldn't be the first time," she shot back.
"True," he acknowledged, trying – somewhat unsuccessfully – to stifle a yawn. "Not sure we have enough time. I've got a lotta favorite parts," he reminded, winking at her. "So, I figured I'd keep it vague and 'G' rated, and finish off with 'to the soles of your feet'. I love all of you, babe."
"Nice save there, hon," Heather smiled, chuckling. She let out a deep sigh. "You look tired, Jake," she added, frowning sympathetically. "I mean, not enough that I'm gonna tell you to go to bed, because I'm still planning to stare at you for the next hour. But still…" she trailed off.
"Hey, I'm okay. I mean, I'm tired, but I'm not that tired. And I wanna look at you, too," he assured, throwing her a lopsided grin that didn't completely reach his eyes. "It's the heat mostly," he claimed. "Takes a lot outta you. This doesn't help," he continued, fingering the collar of his black polo shirt. 'Ravenwood Logistics' was embroidered in red under the Ravenwood company logo on the righthand side. "But – you know – corporate branding standards must be maintained, even in the parts of the world that are probably too hot for actual human habitation."
"That's ridiculous, they should at least let you wear a white shirt. I mean, even the Victorians figured out they should wear light colored clothing in hot climates. And now we have decades of science to back that up."
"Well, logic is no match for corporate policy, right?" Jake griped. "But," he continued, clearing his throat, "Why are we talkin' about my polo shirt when I'd much rather be talkin' 'bout yours and how it's 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'. C'mon, lemme see."
"It's my birthday, Jake."
"It is. Happy Birthday, Heather."
"And all I wanted for my birthday was to get to look at you for an hour or so," she reminded him.
"That's true," he agreed, adding helpfully, "Though you really should ask for more than that, babe."
Heather snorted. "I really should. But that begs the obvious question," she complained even as she started to push her chair back from the table. "Why'm I the one who has to model for you? It's my birthday after all."
"Hey, I'll model for you," he pledged, chuckling and leering at her as best he could manage over their video chat. "But you hafta go first, 'cause I look forward to this day all year long."
"Yeah, me too," she grumbled, moving her chair to the side and then backing up from the laptop's built-in camera. "Since today's – you know – my birthday. In fact, me doing this might technically be against the Birthday Rules," she informed him, even as she struck a pose. "So can you see me?"
"I can see you, Mrs. Green," Jake called out. "And those are still the longest shorts I have ever seen in my life. Still, I hafta say, I really love 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'. Seriously, this should be a national holiday."
"These are Bermuda length shorts, hon. That's a perfectly normal length for shorts."
"For my grandmother, sure. And I'm pretty sure I saw her in shorter shorts than those," he argued. "Like, a lot."
She shook her head at him, trying not to laugh. "Should I be concerned that you paid such close attention to the length of your grandmother's shorts?" Heather challenged, "Because that seems weird. And really? How often could your grandmother have possibly worn shorts around you?"
"More than you'd think," Jake returned. "I think Gramps liked it when she wore shorts, so she did. Just around the ranch. She wouldn't have been caught dead in town – or anywhere else – in shorts, but at the ranch, sure. I think he liked checkin' out her legs."
"That's what you mom said about you last night," she sighed. "Not about your grandmother," she clarified quickly, giggling, "Because that really would be weird. But she said that you like 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day' because you like admiring my legs."
"She's not wrong," he acknowledged, grinning. "Since you insist on being a productive member of society, hell yeah, I like checkin' you out on the one day a year you wear shorts to work. Why do you think I usually go with you? Just not this year," he grumbled softly.
"I've been known to wear skirts shorter than this to school, Jake. You don't come to work with me on those days."
"Okay, see, even you think those shorts are on the long side," he contended. "And – also – major oversight on my part. I think you need to pre-schedule short skirt days, give me some warning."
She was laughing and shaking her head at him now. "I usually wear really thick tights with those particular skirts, just to be safe. But sure, I'll keep you posted," she promised, rolling her eyes. "And, I wear this specific pair of shorts," she said, reseating herself, "Because I never know when I'm gonna need to squat down or climb under or on top of something at Field Day, and I don't particularly want to be providing a show to who knows who. I like to know on a very deep level the person I'm providing such a show for," she insisted, her gaze boring into him across the thousands of miles that separated them. "Okay, mister?"
"Hey! As a – or the – the person," he corrected, "Who knows you on that deep level—"
"The person who knows me on the deepest level," Heather interjected. "Just to – to … level set," she groaned, throwing her hands up in the air.
"And – just to level set – you are also the person who knows me on that deepest level, babe. So, I'm definitely okay with you saving your shows for me, Mrs. Green. And the super long shorts make total sense."
"Good. And even though you've already seen me in my shorts on this very special day for you – today's show, so to speak – your mom's still gonna take my picture and send it to you, so you can have a little souvenir. Okay?"
He offered her his sweetest smile, breathing, "Thanks babe. So," Jake continued a beat later, climbing to his feet. Now all she could see was his torso, though he was still talking. "I guess it's my turn to model for you. Especially since it's your birthday and all," he reasoned, starting to unbutton his jeans.
"Jake Green, don't you dare!" his wife screeched, though she also seemed to be having an attack of the giggles. "Stop!" she demanded.
He squatted down then, bringing his head back into camera range. "What's the matter, babe?" he inquired, smirking, though his tone was one of righteous innocence.
"My not being naked on the internet rule applies to you, too," she informed him.
"Well, I wasn't planning to be naked on the internet, so we're okay."
"You were starting to take off your pants," she huffed.
"I was taking off my pants—"
"Jake!"
"Just my pants, Heather," he assured, laughing softly. "You need to get your mind outta the gutter, babe, 'cause trust me, I'm not goin' commando while I'm here. Especially in here," he emphasized, pointing down at the table. "I have my suspicions about what other people do in these rooms, and…. No thank you."
"Gross, Jake," she complained, making a face. "So, I assume you have a perfectly innocent reason for why you were taking off your pants then?"
"You showed me your legs, so I was gonna show you mine," he explained, slipping back into his seat. "I mean, it's your birthday, and I usually wear shorts on 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day', too." His gaze narrowed with suspicion. "You're tellin' me that you never checked out my legs too, given the chance?"
Heather bit her lip, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. "Well, I'm usually checking something about you out," she allowed, teasing, "Could be your legs, could be somethin' else – I'm not tellin'."
"You've got a bit of a mean streak, Mrs. Green," her husband accused, not for the first time. "But it is your birthday," he reminded, "So am I takin' off my pants or not?"
"You are not," she ordered. "Just wait 'til we're in the same place, okay? And alone. Because then – but not 'til then – those pants are gonna need to come off, mister!"
Jake grinned – though it was really more of a leer – at that. "You just say the word, babe."
"Thanks," she sighed. "But, so we're clear, you can take your clothes off for a shower, and to, you know, change them," she told him, exhaling and nodding to herself. "Basic personal hygiene is still allowed and encouraged, is what I'm sayin'."
"That's good," he acknowledged. "Because I happen live with three other guys in a very small space, and you know, personal hygiene is probably the thing that keeps us from murdering one another in our sleep."
"Then you should definitely take off your pants to shower," Heather declared, smiling at him fondly. "And until that really awesome future day when we're finally in the same place again, I'm happy – ecstatic, really – just to look at your face. I love your face, Jake."
"And the rest of me, I hope."
"Definitely the rest of you."
"I love your face, too, Heather. And your fancy hair – today at least," he grinned, winking at her.
"Ah, see. The truth comes out!" his wife declared, smiling in return.
"I love all of you, babe. And I love 'Mrs. Green Wears Shorts to School Day'."
"I love all of you, too," she repeated. "But maybe we should call it 'Mr. and Mrs. Green Both Wear Shorts to School Day'," Heather suggested. "To be completely fair. And accurate."
"Nah," Jake contradicted, shrugging. "Maybe 'Vice Principal Green and That Guy She Married Wear Shorts to School Day', if you're goin' for accuracy."
"You know, not-actually-the-vice-principal-yet Mrs. Green really loves 'That Guy She Married'. He's one pretty amazing guy."
"I don't know 'bout that, babe," he replied. "But I do know that 'That Guy She Married' really loves her, too. Would even if she never got to be vice principal. Though if that happened, he'd wonder what kinda idiots we have runnin' the school board."
"I'm pretty sure 'That Guy' has always wondered that," Heather argued, shaking her head at him.
"I can neither confirm nor deny," Jake chuckled. He drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds, then asked, "Hey, where's your breakfast? This is a breakfast date, remember?"
"Oh! Well, everything went off just exactly when you called, so I had to choose. And, you won, Jake. I abandoned my coffee and my toast so I could answer my computer and see you. 'Cause I really wanted to see you, hon," she flirted.
"Toast?"
"Not just regular old toast," she assured him quickly. "I was gonna do peanut butter on one side, Nutella on the other and smoosh 'em together," she explained, pantomiming pressing two pieces of bread together. "And have, like, a Reese's sandwich. And I toasted the bread so it would make the peanut butter and Nutella all melty, gooey delish, too. Totally birthday-worthy toast. But," she sighed, looking back over her shoulder at the counter, "I'm guessing my toast is cooled off now."
"But my mom was supposed to bring you a chocolate Kahlua cake yesterday," he protested. "She promised."
"Jake, she did," Heather replied, turning back to face the camera. "She even took a picture of me and the cake together, in case you demanded proof of delivery later. Which you better not," she informed him, glaring at him for two seconds before that gave way to an indulgent smile. "Your mom is amazing, and you don't get to be snippy with her on or about my birthday. Got it, mister?"
"Got it," he echoed, throwing her a mock salute. "But babe, the cake was for breakfast. You're supposed to eat the cake for breakfast."
"Okay…." Heather said, hesitating for an instant. "But why?" she demanded, her nose wrinkling (Jake thought) adorably.
"Because when we were talking about what Kerry's family does for birthdays, you said you could go for having cake and ice cream for breakfast on your birthday," he reminded. "I thought you of all people would've figured that out."
For a long moment she didn't respond, didn't react at all. Finally, her lower lip trembling slightly, she gasped, "Ja-ake! I – I can't believe—" Her eyes were bright with tears, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. "I just – I love you so much," she murmured.
"I wasn't tryin' to make you cry," he complained. "I was trying to make you happy. And you sure better love me for something more than just getting you a cake."
"I am happy," she insisted. "And, I do love you for getting me the cake," she continued, wiping at her eyes again. "But I really love you because you listen to me. You remembered what I said when I didn't even remember I'd said that. I mean, I remember that I said it now, but that was such a throwaway comment …. You always hear me. And I love you for that. So much."
"Anyone who doesn't listen to you is an idiot. And, I love you, too," he echoed, clearing his throat. "And I – I just wanted to – to do somethin' for your birthday that you'd like. We should be headed out of town on Thursday night, even if it's just to Estes Park for a coupl'a nights—"
"I love Estes Park for my birthday," Heather reminded him. He'd taken her to the cute little mountain town right outside Rocky Mountain National Park for her birthday weekend right before they had gotten married, and she had insisted that they go back every year since. She'd had to admit that Estes Park was much more her speed than Jackson Hole or Vail or Park City – places they had gone to celebrate Jake's birthday over the years. Heather rather enjoyed being "wined and dined" by her husband on occasion, but as she'd told him more than once, if she was going to step into a boutique, she'd rather not have a panic attack every time she looked at a price tag. "But what I love most is going there with you, Jake. That's the thing that makes it special. So don't knock it."
"Fine, no knockin' Estes Park," he agreed. "But still. I should be taking you out to dinner tonight. I – I – there's a million things I should be doing for your birthday," he continued, deciding against mentioning the couple of things he'd managed to pull off that she didn't know about yet. "And about all I can do this year is order a cake for you and then be a jerk to my mom about making sure she got it out to you in time. So that's what I did."
"The cake is more than enough, Jake. Well, the cake plus us having breakfast together. This is definitely in the top ten sweetest things you've ever done for me, and you've done a lot of really sweet things for me."
He groaned softly at that, though it was mostly for show, and they both knew it.
"And, just so you know, I want this for every birthday from here on out, Jake. You, me and a chocolate Kahlua cake for breakfast. That's pretty perfect."
"Go get your cake, babe. And your coffee," Jake ordered softly. "So we can have breakfast together," he added, holding up a vending machine coffee cup and a packaged pair of cupcakes.
"I get McBee's Kahlua cake and you get Hostess cupcakes? That doesn't seem fair."
"It's not even Hostess's, just some off-brand," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And the coffee sucks."
"Well, you can totally have some of my cake in future years, okay?" she promised. "Heck, I'll cut you a piece of this cake and put it in the freezer like we did with our wedding cake. You can have it when you get home."
"Nope," he dismissed immediately. "You're not allowed to save me a piece, babe. That's gonna be the rule for the Green family's birthday-cake-for-breakfast tradition from here on out. We're not gonna be polite about it, we're not gonna cut it in slices or use plates. Birthday girl or boy gets the first bite or two, and then everybody else gets a fork and we all dig in. That's the rule."
"Look at you, makin' rules," Heather teased. "I love it, hon."
"'Kay then. You better add a section to the 'Birthday Rules' for cake-for-breakfast."
"I will do that, promise," she said, smiling at him.
"Go get your cake."
"Okay." Heather stood up, shoving her chair out of the way. She took two steps back and then held her arms open, calling out, "Here's your bonus chance to check out my shorts, hon!"
"Thanks, babe!" he yelled back.
Heather quickly poured her coffee, then moved to the refrigerator to add half-and-half to her mug as well as get the cake. She left the cake on the counter – she didn't trust herself to carry both back to the table without dropping something on the floor – but grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer, taking it along with her coffee to the table. "One more trip," she informed her husband. "You can check your email if you want. I did manage to send you something last night."
"I'll read my email later, when you're at Field Day," he replied. "Right now, I'm just gonna look at you. Where's Baron?"
"Outside, sorry," she frowned. "I should've told him he'd get to see his dad if he came back in."
"It's okay, babe," Jake chuckled, watching as she momentarily disappeared from view before reappearing a few seconds later, carrying a small, white bakery box. "This is our date – he doesn't need to be horning in on it, like always. I miss him," he admitted as she seated herself, "But I miss you way more. You're the one I want to look at for as long as I can."
"Well, I'm glad I rate above the dog," she joked, opening the bakery box.
"You rate above everybody, Heather," he reminded, exhaling softly. "You are the most important. Always."
"Thanks," she murmured. She began fiddling with the laptop then, tilting the screen so the camera was pointed down, depriving Jake of his view of her face. "Okay, so can you see this?" she asked, moving the open cake box toward the camera. "Your mom apparently out McBee-ed Mrs. McBee. She said she threw a fit and got her to add a layer of cream cheese frosting so the purple writing would show up. I was like, 'how come we never thought of this before?' Cream cheese frosting makes everything taste better."
"I can see it," Jake confirmed. "You definitely got what I paid for with a bonus."
"Yeah," his wife smiled. "Thanks, hon. And oooh! Dessert bagels – you know, cinnamon raisin, chocolate chip, French toast. Then add cream cheese frosting instead of just regular old cream cheese. That's like a thousand times better, right?"
"Sounds good to me," he agreed, opening his cupcake package. "Dig in, babe," he ordered, "Table manners do not apply to birthday-cake-for-breakfast. Make sure you write down that part of the rule," he added, extracting a cupcake from its plastic nest.
"I will make sure that's in there," Heather promised, holding her fork above the cake. "I'm just not sure where to start," she confessed, giggling. "Take a piece off the side, or stab it in the middle…."
"Doesn't matter. Whatever you want to do, just go for it," her husband encouraged, taking a bite of his own, rather pitiful, cupcake. "And you do know that if you decide to open a dessert bagel restaurant then you're gonna hafta make it a gourmet grilled cheese and dessert bagel restaurant."
Heather took a deep breath and then plunged her fork into the edge of the cake. She lifted her fork up, using her free hand to keep the large chunk of cake and frosting from sliding off the tines. "I'm gonna look like a pig," she moaned. Glancing at the screen she told her husband, "You should close your eyes for this part."
"No way, babe. If we're not gettin' naked on the internet, then I at least get to enjoy watching this part," he teased, taking another bite of his cupcake. "It'll make this taste better."
Rolling her eyes at him, she maneuvered her forkful into her mouth, trying to hide at least some of her chewing from his view. A moment later she swallowed hard, finally giving into a laugh. "Three things," she announced as she cut another chunk of cake off with her fork. "First, this is really, really good. This is so my standing order for the Green family birthday-cake-for-breakfast tradition we're starting. McBee's chocolate Kahlua cake with cream cheese frosting. I'm puttin' that in the rules," she told him, pointing her loaded up fork at the camera to emphasize the point.
"Sounds good. And I'm gonna have to think about mine," Jake decided.
"Well, you've got time," his wife reminded, eating her next bite. "You can even do peanut butter pie twice – birthday breakfast, birthday dinner – if you want."
"You sure 'bout that?" he questioned, arguing, "I mean, the rule is about having cake. For breakfast. Cake, not pie."
"Yeah, well, peanut butter pie is already grandfathered in as an acceptable substitute for birthday cake," Heather asserted. "That makes it okay. But remember, you liked that peanut butter frosting I made for the cupcakes last Fourth of July. I could do that with a chocolate fudge cake – a layer cake, so there'd be frosting in the middle. That would be pretty good."
"That sounds great, but let me think about it," he dismissed. "Besides, today's s'posed to be about you and your birthday. Happy Birthday, babe. Since I haven't said that in at least five minutes."
"More like ten, I'm pretty sure, mister," she mock scolded him. "Fallin' down on the job, lemme tell you."
"I'll do better. So, what's the second thing?"
"Right. The second thing," she nodded, licking the back of her fork. "Well – and I think I may have mentioned this to you before – but I love the job I have, Jake—"
"I am aware."
"—so, I'm never gonna quit it to go run a restaurant," Heather finished, shrugging. "Sorry."
Jake held his hands up in an 'I surrender' pose. "I'm not the one who thinks you should run a restaurant. That's Eric, and he doesn't know what the hell he's talkin' about," he declared. "The last thing you should be doin' is wasting your talents on running a restaurant."
"My talents don't really lend themselves to running a restaurant," she reminded, scraping together a forkful – he noted – of chocolate and cream cheese frosting sans cake. "I can't really cook."
"You can make fifty kinds of grilled cheese, and you thought up dessert bagels literally on the spot," he countered. "You could definitely run a restaurant. Hell, you could run the world, babe." He finished the last bite of his cupcake, realizing, "But then you wouldn't have time for me, so scratch that. You don't get to run the world after all. Sorry."
"Well, if I ran the world, you wouldn't have to have a job, so then at least you'd have plenty of time to hang out with me. We could make it work," she promised, grinning.
"You're gonna repeal the 'gainfully employed' requirement, babe?" he joked.
"Maybe," she said, absently breaking off another morsel of cake with her fork. "For sure, you wouldn't hafta be in Iraq." She paused then, frowning and abandoning her fork to reach for her mug, which she wrapped both hands around. "I'm sorry, Jake. I – I didn't mean it like that. Really."
"It's okay, babe. I …." The last thing Jake wanted today – or any day – was to get into an argument over this. He just wanted to look at his wife and spend some time together, the only way they could manage at the moment. "I didn't take it like that," he assured her. "Right now, I hafta be here. But I'm not stayin' one more minute that I absolutely need to."
"I know."
"And you're right," he continued, allowing a frustrated chuckle. "Because if you're running the world, I'm pretty sure that means I get to be the trophy husband, at your beck and call. So, I wouldn't be here, I'd be there," he reasoned, gesturing into the camera at her. "Becking and calling."
"I'm pretty sure I would be doing the beckoning and calling," Heather contradicted, reaching again for her fork. She pointed it at him – where he was on her screen, he realized – and, giggling, informed him, "Whereas you would be answering my beckons and calls. And distracting me. I assume, trophy husband," she pronounced, affecting a superior tone, "That you are still at my distracting service."
"Always happy to provide you with distraction, Heather," he replied before adding suggestively, "And other stuff."
"You have always excelled at distraction and other stuff," she flirted in return. She took another bite of cake, letting out a small groan. "I think I better stop eating this or no way I'm gonna make it to Field Day."
"Please," he dismissed, "You've had four bites. Hardly made a dent in that cake."
"This is a lot of cake for one person, for breakfast," she argued, pointing down at the bakery box with her fork. "But I'll definitely do better next year when you're here to help me."
"And I'll definitely be there," Jake pledged. "Ready to eat cake for breakfast and perform all my other trophy husband duties." He paused for a beat, then said, "Happy Birthday, Heather. See, I'm tryin' to not fall down on the job here."
"Thanks, hon," she smiled. "And, sorry to derail your trophy husband career plans, but I don't think I'm gonna apply to run the world. That's definitely too much work."
"That's okay. You're gonna be running the education system in our corner of the world," he predicted. "You get to make sure the next couple of generations of kids can read, write, and—"
"'Rithmetic?" she guessed, laughing.
"I was gonna say: employ the scientific method, plus have critical thinking skills. If you whip all their brains into shape, then you're basically making sure they can run things right without all the pressure of doing it yourself. That's better than getting stuck running the whole world."
"It is. Slightly fewer headaches, too," she chuckled. "And thanks, hon. You get, like, a million bonus points for calling me a good teacher, which is how I choose to interpret that."
"That's how I meant it. Heather, you're pretty much the greatest teacher ever."
"I don't know about that," she sighed, "But I'm glad you think so." Without thinking, she reached for her fork and speared up another bit of cake. "Ten million bonus points to Jake Green."
"I thought you were full, babe," he reminded, smirking at her.
"I found a little room," she shrugged, grinning in return. "What about you, aren't you going to eat your other cupcake?"
He made a show out of popping the second cupcake out of the plastic, then took a bite. "So – for the record – even though I hafta stay gainfully employed, I can be your trophy husband, too. If that's cool with you."
"That doesn't seem fair unless I'm okay being your trophy wife."
"It's fair. You don't think 'trophy wife' is a compliment—"
"Because it's not," Heather grumbled, rolling her eyes.
"Exactly what I'm sayin'. You're nobody's trophy wife, but I'm fine with being Heather Green's trophy husband. That's a compromise that works for everyone."
"Well, I'm not a trophy wife, Jake," she declared. "But – if you want – I will allow you, just in your head and just between us, to think of me as your trophy wife." She paused a moment, her lips pursed, offering, "There's a subtle difference there that probably only makes sense to me."
"Think I get it, babe. And, that’s pretty much how I already think," he confessed, joking, "In my head, where I think. Because you, Mrs. Green, are a catch. Definitely my trophy wife. Hope that doesn't get me in trouble."
"Why would it? I told you that you could think that. Besides, you're right, I am a catch."
"And so modest," he teased.
"Yup, that too," she agreed, grinning at him over the rim of her coffee mug. "So, you thinking of me as your trophy wife is like me a calling you by that nickname that is seriously just between us. That's totally fair, right?"
"Totally fair. Okay, so what was the third thing? You said you had three things to tell me."
"You're keeping score?" she laughed, alluding to their conversation two days before.
"I figured what the hell," he shrugged.
"Well, I haven't actually told you the second thing yet, hon," she informed him, allowing an exasperated chuckle. "You got us off on that crazy tangent about what if I were queen of the world, and I didn't even get a kiss out of it. Or other stuff."
"I do owe you like a million kisses plus other stuff," he conceded. "So now it's a million and one, but I promise I'm good for 'em."
Heather smiled at that. "I know you are, hon. And I owe you about a million, too. We both have kissing obligations."
"Lookin' forward to it, babe. So, okay, what's the second thing? Oh, and Happy Birthday, babe," Jake sighed.
"Thank you! And, just so you know, that is a good interval for 'Happy Birthdays' during this particular conversation."
"Good to know."
"Thanks," she repeated, her gaze full of affection. "And the second thing is: love my job, not gonna open a restaurant, now stepping very carefully over the sidetrack that leads us to the discussion where I'm the queen of the world and you're my trophy husband—"
"If we're gonna make you queen, we might as well go for the whole universe."
"That's a tangent we will have to pursue later, mister. Not now."
"Got it, sorry."
"So, what I was trying to say is that the next time your mom decides we're having breakfast for Sunday night dinner, we'll bring dessert bagels as our contribution," Heather suggested. "Just to mix things up a little."
"Sounds good, babe," Jake nodded. "But make sure you save that for after I'm home, 'kay?"
"Will do. Luckily, she mostly does breakfast for dinner in the winter, anyway," she reminded. "And always for Shrove Tuesday, just on the Sunday before."
"Doesn't that make it Shrove Sunday?" he joked. "Only problem I see is that you're gonna hafta sacrifice a pancake or two if you're gonna have room for dessert bagels. And to get those kinda bagels we're gonna hafta go to Fielding."
"I can forego one pancake in favor of a dessert bagel," Heather conceded, picking off a bit of cake and frosting with her fingers. "But actually, the Cyberjolt Café – that's the new coffee place and internet café in town – has pretty good bagels, including French toast and chocolate chip."
"Je—There's an internet café now?" he demanded, catching himself in the nick of time. He really didn't know if Ravenwood would be recording this Skype session – he hoped to God not – but it was still good practice to never mention Jericho on an unsecured transmission. "Are you sure the town's hip enough for that?"
"Who knows? Maybe internet cafés are passe now, Jake. That's actually what I like about where we live, you know. This town is just my speed," she added, doing a better job than him of maintaining operational security. "I'm a geek, so being 'hip' isn't really my thing."
"Not really my thing either. Geeky's more my thing," he claimed, "You're my thing."
"You're my thing, too, hon," she assured him, licking her fingers clean and then gifting him with a wide smile.
"So, wow, we have an internet café and a local source of bagels," Jake summarized. "That's crazy."
"Yeah. Having made the mistake of asking about bagels at McBee's that one time," Heather recalled, "I think that's actually the crazier part."
"Babe, I'm not sure the McBees have ever left Kansas," he told her. "I've left Kansas, but I still didn't have a bagel until I was ten and Mom took Eric and me to visit my uncle Dennis in California."
"I just thought bagels are round with a hole like a doughnut. It didn't seem impossible," she reasoned, shrugging.
"Just be happy that the Cyberjolt came to town and brought bagels."
"Okay," she sighed, "And honestly, the Cyberjolt has the best coffee in town. Best source of coffee since I've lived here, anyway."
"You are my go-to consult on the quality of coffee everywhere, so I'm guessin' it's the best coffee the town's ever seen," he reasoned. "But this coffee," he said, toasting the camera with his paper cup, "Still sucks."
"Isn't it too hot for coffee? What's the temperature there today, Jake?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, babe. Over a hundred, hundred and ten, maybe? But don't worry about me, I had the easiest route available this morning, my A/C worked, the A/C works in here. It's all good. Your birthday was kinda a gift for me. So Happy Birthday Heather. And, thanks."
"Right on time," she observed, grinning. "And, I'm glad you got a bit of a break for my birthday. Knowing that is a gift to me, too. Also, if the coffee sucks, and it's that hot out, you really don't hafta drink it."
"Heather Green is telling me to not bother with coffee? Who are you and what'd you do with my wife?" Jake teased.
"The rule is you can't go wastin' good coffee," she clarified. "Bad coffee, sucky coffee and decaf coffee need not apply."
"Right. That's a good rule. So, have we finished thing two? Ready for thing three?"
"I think thing two ate thing three. We can skip the third thing. It's not important," she insisted.
"C'mon, Heather," Jake cajoled, "You said three things, so what's the third thing?"
"I'm telling you, it's not a big deal."
"Anything you start sayin' is not important and not a big deal, that basically means that it is," he informed her. "I know this because I'm the person who knows you on the deepest level. So, what is it? What were we even talking about back when you started up the three things game?"
"You wouldn't avert your eyes when I was making a pig of myself. But that's okay, this cake is worth being piggish for," she declared, stabbing together another large bite. "Thank you, Jake, for my cake. And I did not mean to rhyme that," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, it's a very sweet gesture, not to mention delish, and thank you and I love you," she finished, finally raising her fork to her mouth.
"You're welcome, and I love you, too. You gonna be okay for Field Day?"
She nodded. "I think so. And if not, it'll be worth it. Besides, I don't actually want to think about Field Day yet – I may have to umpire."
"God, babe, I'm sorry," he frowned. "I – I just figured you'd get enough volunteers."
"I did. It's just there's a combination of teams that none of them can umpire for," she explained, exhaling in frustration. "But your dad may still save me. Your mom was gonna ask him last night if he'd umpire, which would get me out of it. The Green men are totally my heroes," she smiled.
"He'll do it," Jake predicted, "For you, he'll do it. But I'm still sorry. I'm the one who's supposed to be your hero umpire at the softball tournament."
"You're my hero all the time, hon. And my all-time hero," Heather joked. "Just this Field Day – fingers crossed – your dad is also gonna be my hero. So, thanks for having the foresight to have him as your father."
"Pretty sure that was not me," Jake grumbled, a grimace settling on his lips. "Sorry. He and I are … I dunno … right now. But hey, now that he's helping you out for the tournament, I won't think he's a complete jackass, okay?"
For a moment, she looked like she had a paragraph or two to say in response, but she surprised him by settling for a wan smile. "I'll take it."
"So, your third thing – you were gonna yell at me about my 'naked on the internet' crack," he guessed. "I'm right, right? So, c'mon, lemme have it."
"I wasn't gonna yell at you," she claimed, before taking a long sip of her coffee.
"Babe, I was being a jerk, you should yell at me when I'm bein' a jerk."
"You weren't a jerk, and I was being a prude," she argued. "So sorry that sometimes I'm a prude—"
"Heather, you're not a prude," Jake contradicted, interrupting her. "You've got standards … or boundaries. You've got boundaries," he decided, running a nervous hand through his hair. "And you put up with me pushing on your boundaries, probably more than you should."
"You do like to push the envelope, that's for sure," she sighed. "Which is good. Sometimes, I need a little push."
"And sometimes I just won't let something die and I keep talking about being hmm – hmm on the hmm – hmm," he reminded.
She shook her head at him, fighting a smile. "Well, at least you redacted this time. I mean, what on earth could you possibly be talking about?"
"Anybody's guess," Jake nodded. "Maybe 'food poisoned on the airplane', or 'robbed on the train'."
"Neither of those is good, hon."
"How 'bout 'proposed to on the water tower'? 'Married on the hottest day of the year'?"
"I definitely like those better," Heather told him.
"And I love you exactly how you are. Which is not a prude," he insisted. "I just wish I was home, 'cause, you know, any day you make me get up at five AM, I'll admit it, I kinda hope for some being hmm – hmm, no internet involved."
"Jake," she groaned.
"Hey, I said hope – not expect."
On his screen, she squared her shoulders, her gaze narrowing slightly, though there was laughter in her eyes. "Okay, three things—"
"So, we're back to this game," he said, affecting a put-upon sigh.
"We so are," she proclaimed.
"What are these three things then?" Jake inquired, grinning at her.
"Thing A—"
"Way to mix it up, babe," he complimented.
"I try. Thing A is, I'm pretty sure you got up at three AM today, so I'm going to have slightly less sympathy when you have to get up at five or six AM in the future," Heather informed him. "I will still be sympathetic," she clarified, picking off another bit of cake with her fork, "Just not quite as sympathetic as I used to be."
"I can live with that," he decided, adding a beat later, "Long as 'sympathetic' still means you're gonna kiss me senseless."
"Hmmm," Heather murmured, sucking on the tines of her fork, while she pretended to ponder what she was going to say next. "Well… I guess… I mean… something like that," she told him, clearly enjoying her chance to torture him just a little bit.
Jake couldn't quite suppress his grin at her antics, but he still decided to continue to play on her compassion and love for him. The fact that she knew exactly what he was up to actually made it more fun. "You do know that the only reason I manage to get up at three AM here, is 'cause I remind myself that it's seven PM back at home," he explained, allowing an exaggerated sigh.
"That makes it better, huh? Easier?"
"Thinkin' about you and what you're doing always makes things better," he shrugged. "And, when I'm getting up at three AM, I know that you're probably writing me an email to tell me all about your day. Gives me something to look forward to for later, babe. So, yeah, I can get up at three in the morning here since it's seven in the evening in at home."
"That's very sweet, hon," she said, smiling at him fondly.
He smiled in return, continuing, "Though, middle of my shift, seven to noon's hard. I know you're asleep, and I just want to be asleep too, wrapped around you." Just because it was over the top, he thought, didn't mean it wasn't true.
"You're making it very hard to enjoy telling you about thing B," she accused gently, frowning. "And on my birthday to boot."
"Laid it on a little thick, huh?"
"Just a bit," she confirmed, holding up one hand to show about a half inch of space between her thumb and index finger. "But that's okay. That's what I want too."
"Still meant it," he assured. "And, Happy Birthday, babe. Just tell me thing B like you were always planning to, 'kay?"
"Well, now there's a thing A dot two. Second bullet under thing A, anyway."
Jake laughed at that. "How'd that happen, babe?"
Heather grinned at him, taking another bite of cake – though again, he noted that it was mostly frosting. "Have you met me, hon?"
"I've met you," he confirmed, "And I like you. A lot."
"So, you just like me, huh?"
"Hmmm. Actually, on second thought, I'm pretty sure I love you."
"Pretty sure?" she pressed, her smile widening. "And do you love me or do you love me a lot?"
"Definitely a lot." His smile was as big as hers. Bigger, really. "I love you more than … anything."
"Good," she acknowledged. "Because last week you said that when you got home you were gonna walk me out every morning at six-fifteen, six-thirty, so I'm not a dork who loses her keys getting into the car."
"I did say that," he agreed.
"That's going to require that you get up at six."
"To walk you out? Babe, all I need is five minutes to pull on jeans and have a half cup of coffee," Jake claimed.
"Seven," his wife countered. "You need shoes, and I need a kiss."
"Shoes are optional, and kissing's on your time, not mine."
"You need shoes, Jake," Heather repeated. "If you don't wear shoes, I am pretty much guaranteed to step on your foot. And the shoes I wear to school, some of 'em could permanently disable you."
"If you're planning to permanently disable me, babe, I respectfully request that you choose a different method," he returned, smirking at her.
She rolled her eyes at that. "Well, if kissing's on my time, I'm gonna hafta be out the door at six fifteen sharp. Just in case my actual departure is somehow delayed."
"I'll set my alarm for six-oh-eight, okay?"
"That works."
"So, what's thing B, babe?" he asked.
"Thing B is that I never make you do anything," Heather insisted. "I simply explain to you the benefits of you choosing to hang out with me. Admittedly in direct opposition to your natural sleep habits. And of course," she smiled, "One of those benefits is that you get to hang out with me."
"Very chicken or egg," Jake observed. "And the benefit I prefer to think about is that I can hope for being hmm – hmm with you at some point," he grinned. "Which – when you think about it – is still hanging out with you."
She was shaking her head at him again, the color rising in her cheeks, but also trying not to laugh. "True. And, I did tell you that if you wanted me to blush, you better plan what you were gonna say to me," his wife groaned. "So, I did it to myself."
"I didn't plan to say any of this, babe. You know I'm not that good of a planner," he reminded, leaning in closer to the laptop and its' camera. "Honestly, my only plan for this breakfast date of ours was to say 'Happy Birthday, Heather' and 'I love you'. After that, I was happy to just spend an hour staring at you like a dumbass, watching you eat cake."
"Thank you, and I love you, too," she returned, before scolding, "And don't call yourself a dumbass –you're not, and also, I would never have married one of those, got it?"
"Yeah, babe."
"And no way you would've just stared at me for an hour," Heather continued. "You and me, we always find something to talk about. Case in point."
"Sometimes we make out."
"Yeah, and we still talk – some – while we're making out."
"Can't make out right now," he grumbled. "Guess we're just gonna hafta play the three things game."
"Which brings us to thing C," she decided. "Because, as you are aware, on Field Day we hafta be at school by seven thirty," she reminded. "Wearing shoes and shorts and shirts. So, the being hmm – hmm usually comes later in the day, that's all."
"Usually, not always."
"Jake!"
"I just mean we both need to take a shower," he suggested, shrugging. "To wake up, personal hygiene, that sort of thing."
"Right," she sighed. "Jake—"
"I'm stopping okay," he declared, preempting whatever she was going to say. "If only because when I do finally get home, I don't wanna be in the doghouse with Baron."
"You're not gonna be in the doghouse, Jake."
"Well, it'd be punishing yourself, too."
"Exactly. Very self-defeating. So, Baron's kicked out, but you're not."
"I'm glad I rate above the dog," he sighed, quoting his wife back to herself.
"Always, hon," Heather smiled.
"Okay, time for you to check your email," Jake declared. "Because even though you claim that all you need is a Skype call and a cake for your birthday, I did get you another present. So, you should check your email," he cajoled, "So you can see what it is. I'm sure the suspense is killing you."
"I'm more than fine with a Skype call and cake for breakfast for my birthday. I'm great with it, actually. I don't need another present."
"I already got you the other present," he argued, requesting, "Babe, just check your email, okay? And, Happy Birthday."
"I can check my email later," she countered. "Don't think it's worth giving up my chance to look at you for two or three minutes. Not like the email goes away, right?"
"How 'bout I check mine at the same time," he bargained. "And, now that school's gonna be out, you're gonna be off, we'll be able to Skype once a week, maybe."
Heather groaned, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'll check my email, but don't check yours," she told him. "What I sent you last night, I don't wanna waste time talking about it on this call. I was stupid—"
"Hey!" Jake interrupted, "You don't get to call my wife 'stupid', especially on her birthday, 'kay?"
'I think that's my line, but okay," she sighed. "I won't call myself stupid. Just – just don't read my email until later, okay? I get one more call today, right, so we can talk about it then."
"Twenty minutes ago, you wanted me to check my email."
"I hadn't had my coffee yet. I wasn't thinking. Just – just wait to read it, okay?" she requested.
"I'll wait to read my email," he agreed. "And I'm gonna call you once the softball tournament is over. Start at two, and you answer when you can answer, okay?"
"Okay, but you'll keep calling, right? Every five minutes?"
"Every five minutes," he confirmed.
"And when you read my email…. I was just thinkin' something through, so don't freak out."
"Little freaked out that you need to tell me to not freak out," he grumbled.
"Don't freak out," she ordered. "And I'm opening my email now, but you should feel free to stare at me like a good trophy husband."
Jake chuckled at that, watching as she set aside her coffee mug so she could use the laptop's keyboard. "On it, babe."
"Oh good!" Heather exclaimed twenty seconds later. "Your dad's on board as my fourth umpire. I looked at his email first," she admitted, her expression turning the slightest bit guilty. "Sorry."
"'S'okay," he acknowledged. "Told you he would."
"That's a relief," she murmured before letting out a long breath. "And, okay, what did Jake get me for my birthday?"
"You do know that I'm sitting right here," he complained. "Staring at you."
"Yes, but I can't see you right now," she reminded, her gaze unknowingly meeting his for a split second. "So, this is interesting…."
Heather trailed off. Besides Johnston's email, which had come in at three minutes after midnight, there were a number of advertising emails in her inbox, and two from Jake. The one from his personal account had arrived, apparently, just as he'd called her as its timestamp was thirteen-forty-two, Baghdad time. The second email was from his DEA account and had come in at a minute after six AM Central time with a subject line of "BABE – READ THIS ONE". She double-clicked that email to open it.
* * * * * *
From: Agent JJ Green (DEA) [SECURE EMAIL]
Sent: Tue Jun 06 14:01 (UTC+3)
To: Heather Green (home)
Subject: BABE - READ THIS ONE
Attachments:
Happy Birthday Heather. I love you!
If you followed directions you didn't bother opening the email from the other Jake Green. That email lets you know that I got you a Coffee of the Week Club subscription for a year. I actually did get you that. Enjoy it Babe. The first pound of coffee should arrive today. Happy Birthday.
Now for the part that the other Jake Green can't do even though he would if he could. That Jake Green loves his wife just as much as I love mine. He's just made a few more crappy choices in his life than me. But we made the exact same best choices in life. That's you in case you're wondering.
As long as you don't hate it I'm thinking we go to Hawaii for our trip. Not as exciting as the French Riviera or the Amalfi Coast. I need to travel back to the US under the other Jake Green's passport to maintain cover and just to be safe it's better I don't travel out of the country on my actual passport. Hawaii is about as exotic as I can manage this time. Sorry Babe.
I know you like their pizza (for some reason) and you'd get to check another state off your list. But if you have some grudge against the Aloha State that I don't know about then maybe we could go to San Diego? Stay a couple of days at the Del if I can't find a condo for the entire time.
So on our Skype date you can't tell me "yay Hawaii" or "San Diego here we come" or "Try again Jake". Well you could probably think of a way to tell me that.
Anyway if you're good with Hawaii tell me "Coffee for a whole year? It's too much but I'll take it. I love you Jake."
If you want San Diego tell me "You do know I go through more than a pound of coffee a week right? And that's just for me. What are you planning to drink Hon? I love you Jake."
And if it's try again Jake tell me "This is the craziest present you've ever given me and that includes this cake. I love you Jake."
And yes the "I love you Jakes" are required no matter your choice. They just are. Mostly because I love you and I miss you and I need to hear it.
That's the main point of this email. I promised to tell you where we're going so I'm making good on that. Also remember that this is not a birthday present it's an anniversary present. You are required to let me spend money on you for our anniversary. It's in the pre-nup.
We can talk more later today. I'll call you after school from my personal cell so you can tell me all about Field Day. 2pm? 2:15, 2:30? You can tell me on Skype what time works best for you. I asked this same question in the other email about the coffee club.
The coffee club isn't your only present but we can't talk about your other present on an unsecure connection. It should arrive about 4pm or 4:30 at the house so you need to be available to answer the door ok? You'll recognize the delivery person don't worry. I'm going to call you again around 4:45 from my personal cell but go ahead and get rid of me pretty quick. Tell me you need to take a shower before dinner with Mom and April. Maybe give me a minute to complain that I don't get to join you. I'll call you again on a secure line right after. Within 10 minutes.
I hate that I have to do things this way. I promise it will never be like this again after this assignment is done.
So last thing. I'm 75% - 95% sure I can do one last call about 8pm KS time from my secure location. If I can't get there I'll still call you. I don't have to report for work tomorrow until 6:30am Baghdad so we'll have time to talk. Just ask me where I'm calling from and if I don't tell you "a good place to talk" you'll know I couldn't get there. But I should be able to make it. I need to check in with Denver anyway so I'll be doing that while you're at dinner.
I love you Babe. I love you and I miss you and Happy Birthday.
Jake
* * * * * *
"I did not know that there was such a thing as the Coffee of the Week Club," Heather murmured. "Wow, Jake."
He nodded before recalling that she couldn't see him. "Me either. It's actually the Coffee of the Month Club, but if you dig into their website, you can find the hardcore option, so that's what I did. Keep reading, babe," he ordered quietly.
She read for a few more seconds, and then chuckling softly said, "Coffee for a whole year? Seriously, that's too much, hon."
"But you'll take it, right? I'm pretty sure the subscription is nonrefundable, and it's gotta be good coffee."
"Better than what you're drinking."
"I'm not gonna drink it. My wife says that's okay. Not completely sure I believe her though. She's a coffee fiend."
"It's okay. And this coffee's gonna be way better than even the Cyberjolt Café," she declared confidently. "I know it. This present – it's too much, but I will absolutely take it, hon," she decided. "I'd take it even if it was refundable, and even though it's too much. Because it's from you. I love you, Jake. Thank you."
"You're welcome, and I love you, too," he returned. He offered her a nod and a pleased smile. 'Hawaii it is.' "You're sure a pound of coffee a week is enough though?" he asked, just to make sure that was her answer. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to run out or anything."
"I don't drink a pound's worth of ground coffee all by myself in a week, Jake," Heather protested, shaking her head ever so slightly. 'No, not San Diego. Not this time.' "I'm a fiend, but not quite that much of a fiend."
"Debatable," he teased. "But that's okay, I love you, coffee fiend."
"There will be enough for me to share with you when you get home, okay?" she declared, adding, "Well, as long as you never have more than two cups in a day. And, I love you, too."
"I'll play by your rules, Mrs. Green," he grinned. "Two cups at home, hit the Cyberjolt later in the day if I need to, right?"
"That's pretty much what I'll be doing, too," she smiled in return. "I love it when we're so in synch."
"Me too, babe."
"So, when I was talking to your mom yesterday about Field Day, I told her about how you rewrote the softball tournament rules for me," Heather informed him, changing the subject suddenly. "And I told her that was the sweetest birthday present you ever gave me. Well, this is a close—"
"Babe, that wasn't a birthday present."
"You always say that," she complained. "But it sure felt like a present, and you sent me the file on my birthday."
"It was a present, just not a birthday present," Jake grumbled. "Your birthday was two days later. I maybe hurried to get the rules done so I could give 'em to you on your birthday," he conceded. "But I would've done it even if your birthday had been six months away. It needed to be done, and it was somethin' I could do for you."
"Oh my God," Heather swore, groaning softly. "I finally get it."
"Whaddya mean you 'finally get it'?" he frowned.
"I always thought it was funny how you kept saying it wasn't a present," she shrugged, smiling at him. "Because it was such a great present – the sweetest present ever, honestly."
"It was a present," he repeated, "Just not a birthday present."
"And the sweetest not-a-birthday-present-but-still-a-present present ever."
"You say so," Jake sighed. Her cell phone rang then – he recognized the ringtone she'd assigned to all her family in Buffalo – and she picked it up, flipping it open and declining the call in one quick movement. "Who was it, babe?"
"My dad," she answered, "But it's okay, Jake, I'll call him later."
"You could've taken it," he told her. "I'd've been fine, sittin' here watchin' you while you talked to him. He wants to tell you 'Happy Birthday'. Everyone's gonna call you today, 'cause they all wanna tell you 'Happy Birthday', babe. He loves you, they all love you."
"I'll call him back on my way to school, promise. And I'll talk to everyone else at some point," Heather assured. "Just not at two o'clock when I get to talk to you," she continued, her voice taking on a sultry quality. She smiled sweetly into the camera, asking, "And do you know why?"
"Because you'll be talking to me," he returned, being deliberately obtuse.
"Well, yeah," she acknowledged, shaking her head at him. "But. Much. More. Importantly. Because I love you, Jake," she sighed. "And I miss you. And, I thought maybe you needed to hear that."
"Always need to hear that, Heather," he confirmed, smiling at her gently. Sure, he'd basically demanded she say it in his email, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate her willingness to go along with it. "Good to know, better to hear."
"I mentioned that to your mom yesterday, and she told me that she told you that the night before our wedding. You forgot to tell me that part," she chided lightly.
"I didn't know that the when of giving the advice was that important," he defended himself with a shrug. "I thought it was the advice that was important."
"That's true," she conceded. "Sooo, what else did she tell you about getting married? That night specifically."
"Never go to bed angry," Jake returned immediately.
"Same advice everyone else gives," Heather chuckled softly. "'Never go to bed angry' is, like, the equivalent of how they say in a job interview if they ask what your greatest flaw is, you should say you're a workaholic."
"I'd never hire anyone who'd say that in a job interview," he grumbled, "Not that I ever interview anyone for a job."
"Me either!" she declared. "I mean, I think that's a bad answer. I do hafta interview people sometimes. And, when someone says that when I'm on an interview panel at school, it's always a thumbs down from me."
Jake laughed at that. "Babe, you're the biggest workaholic I know. You and my dad. Half my job as your trophy husband is to make you not be a workaholic. So, you know, I try."
"Well, why do you think I married you?" she giggled in return. "You are very good at being distracting, and that includes distracting me from my workaholic tendencies."
"That's why you married me? And here I thought it was for my … shall we say prowess?"
This made Heather giggle harder, a blush blooming on her cheeks. "I married you for both those things, and a coupl'a others," she informed him. "But we're not talking about that right now. So," she demanded, taking a deep breath, "What else did your mom say the night before we got married?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. "Good to know, better to hear; don't go to bed angry; uh …." He paused a second. "Oh, I know – she said that most arguments are about small stuff, so if something was more important to you, I should 'resist the urge to indulge in the Green penchant for stubbornness'," he quoted, joking, "Whatever that means."
"Oh, I know what that means, and you do too," she said, her tone rueful. "Though, that's probably advice better aimed at me, to be honest. I'm more stubborn than you."
"Sometimes," he agreed, "But not always. It just proves you were always destined to be a Green."
"I like to think so," she smiled. "But your mom's advice is usually – or always – pretty good. So, I'm gonna take it. Try to figure out which of us thinks something's more important, and go from there."
"Hope we can do it, babe."
"So, what else did she tell you?" Heather pressed.
"Uh, vive la différence," Jake returned. "Embrace the difference, something like that, right? That's how Mom translated it."
"Your French accent is, uh, not good, hon," she informed him. "And, yeah, something like that. 'Long live difference' is the exact translation."
"My French accent is non-existent, and my Spanish accent just gets me mocked," he sighed. His Spanish accent was actually not that bad, at least when he was in certain circles in South America, but Freddie Ruiz had found it hilarious the one time he'd popped off Spanish about something one of their roommates had done, so now he kept his Spanish language thoughts to himself. "But she basically meant that … it's good we're not exactly the same, I guess?"
"I certainly think so," she smiled.
"She said it 'cause we'd made hot fudge sundaes – a hot fudge sundae, because we were splitting it – and I told her that when you have a sundae, you put gummy bears on it," he explained, making a face. "Not that I really care – it's your weird tastebuds, not mine. But that's what she said to that: 'long live difference'. Which pretty much means love you for the weird stuff too, right?"
"I also love you for your weird stuff, hon," she reminded. "And your mom's a smart lady. But you had hot fudge sundaes after we had regular pizza and dessert pizza at the rehearsal dinner?" Heather demanded, sounding equal parts amused and annoyed.
"Hey, there was a salad bar too," Jake offered. "I had a vegetable."
"Yeah, the kind you find in a pizza parlor," she griped. "I was seriously considering becoming bulimic for a day just so I'd still fit my wedding dress, and you had a hot fudge sundae," she muttered, giving him a credible version of his mother's practically patented 'look'. Still, she stopped glaring at him long enough to stab together another bite of cake.
"Well, Mom complained the whole time that she wasn't gonna fit in her dress," he shrugged, "But I assume she did, because she was wearing a pretty fancy dress and she looked good. And you looked great. Gorgeous. Hope you didn't actually make yourself throw up."
"I wore Spanx," she confessed. "And the only thing I ate until the reception was one hard-boiled egg. I was starving," she groaned. "And I still only got like five bites of food. But you know, vive la difference."
"You had cake, too," he argued. "That was the other thing Mom talked about. There was a whole section on wedding day advice: 'don't lock your knees or you'll pass out' and 'I'll disown you if you even think about shoving cake in Heather's face'. She didn't say 'young man' but it was implied. And that wasn't something I was ever gonna do," he insisted, holding both hands up as if to show he was unarmed. "I always thought that was a jerk move."
"It is a jerk move," Heather confirmed, "So it will come as no surprise to you that of all my brothers, only Tommy—"
"Of course," Jake grunted.
"Mandy got him back," she assured. "And I ate all my cake. At our wedding reception. And then, like, half of yours."
"I had my suspicions," he admitted. "One minute I had cake, and then I didn't."
"Stanley and Eric dragged you off for some reason, and it was just sitting there. So, I had a bite," she confessed. "And then another one, and then two more."
"Well, what's mine is yours, right?" Jake declared, throwing her a lopsided grin. "Officially for, like, three whole hours by then. But if I'd known you hadn't eaten anything, I would've straight up given you the cake. Hell, I would've made you a peanut butter sandwich while you were takin' your shower."
She was smiling at him again, the smile that always made him feel ten feet tall. "Thanks, hon," she sighed. "And you know how you sent me that list a few days ago? The things you remember from our wedding? That was a very good list, by the way. But, oh my God, our three AM picnic," she moaned softly. "That was the best."
"That was great," he agreed, smiling in return. They both fell silent for a long moment before he, reluctantly broke it, saying "It's almost seven, babe."
"I know," she frowned, claiming, "But I've got a few minutes."
"You don't have things you need to do before you go? Brush your teeth? It's Field Day – you hafta be there by seven-thirty, or the world ends or somethin'."
"Nothing quite so drastic, I promise."
"I love you," Jake said then. "And I miss you. And Happy Birthday, Heather."
"Trying to get rid of me?" his wife chuckled though her heart clearly wasn't in it.
"Well – technically – you're the one who insists that we have jobs," he reminded. "Plus, you keep telling me how much you love yours."
"Fine," she huffed softly.
"Look, I'm gonna go right now and see if I can get a reservation for one of these rooms since you'll have a wide-open schedule next week, okay?"
"Okay."
"And, I'm gonna start callin' you at two o'clock sharp, and we can talk for as long as you want. That's only—" He broke off, realizing that it was longer than either of them really wanted to wait.
"It's seven hours, Jake," she frowned. "Too long. And then, this afternoon, I'm gonna need to go get ready for dinner with your mom and April," she reminded, once again playing along with his cover story. "So, we can't just keep talking as long as we want."
"Then I'll call you again even later," he promised. "Whenever I can getcha."
"Okay. But – just between you and me – you, Mr. Green, can pretty much get me whenever you want," she flirted halfheartedly. "Just so you know."
"Well, Mrs. Green, that's always," he returned, "No 'pretty much' about it. Just always."
"I love you, Jake."
"I love you, too. And Happy Birthday."
"Thanks."
"You better go," he prompted, twenty seconds later. "But, uh, tell everyone 'hi' from me, okay? When you talk to 'em today. Even my dad. And don't forget to call your dad back, okay?"
"Okay," she nodded, sucking in a deep breath through her teeth. "Tell everyone 'hi', including both our dads. I love you, Jake. So, so much."
"Love you more," he returned, their gazes locking over the nearly eight thousand miles that separated them.
"I'm not sure that's possible, hon, but okay," she sighed, flashing him a watery smile.
"Today it is, Heather. Just because you deserve it. You deserve everything, just gonna hafta settle for me loving you more – the most – for today at least, okay?"
"Just for today." On her computer screen, her husband offered her one more smile – his sweetest grin, the one she absolutely loved – before tapping his trackpad, ending their connection.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 7.
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.
Cake and ice cream for breakfast is a birthday tradition of a work colleague's family. I've thought it was the neatest tradition for twenty years and enjoy seeing the pictures posted to social media every year. It seemed like just the sort of tradition that Jake and Heather might choose to adopt for themselves.
Estes Park Colorado is a popular summer resort and the location of the headquarters for Rocky Mountain National Park. The town offers plenty of outdoor recreational activities as well as a shopping and restaurant district. Plus, you can always go into the national park for even more outdoor activities!
Hostess CupCake is an American brand of snack cake produced and distributed by Hostess Brands. It is purported to be the first commercially produced cupcake. The most common version is a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing and vanilla crème filling, with seven distinctive white squiggles across the top.
Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent). Shrove Tuesday is related to Mardi Gras which is French for Fat Tuesday, referring to the practice of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the Lenten season beginning on Ash Wednesday. Many Christian congregations observe the day through eating pancakes and specifically through holding pancake breakfasts. So, the Greens in the Different Circumstances universe have observed Shrove Tuesday by eating pancakes at Sunday dinner for at least as long as Gail has had something to do with planning Sunday dinner. Heather, too, comes from a family that observes Shrove Tuesday, so she heartily approves of this practice.
A bagel is a bread roll originating in the Jewish communities of Poland. Jake is approximately ten months older than me, and I didn't encounter a bagel until I was about 10 years old. My first bagel came, frozen, from the grocery store (Lender's Bagels) in 1984 or 1985. So, I am giving Jake my basic experience, though he may have encountered his first bagel at a motel breakfast. I first had a bagel because my mother's best friend had grown up in Los Angeles, and she spotted frozen bagels in the grocery store and insisted we had to try them.
The Del is a nickname for the Hotel Del Coronado (https://hoteldel.com/) on Coronado Island, just across the San Diego Bay from San Diego CA. It is a rare surviving example of an American architectural genre – the wooden Victorian beach resort. It is both a California and National Historic Landmark. I have never been able to stay at The Del (I stayed across the street at a hotel on the old Spreckels mansion property), but I have dined there, as well as sipped cocoa while I watched ice skaters on the holiday rink they put up right on the beach. It's a very beautiful and fancy hotel (April will refer to it as fancy-schmancy later in this story) with a storied history (that I think would appeal to both Jake and Heather) and is considered to be a world-renowned resort.
Vive la difference is literally translated "long live difference", and it has been an internet meme about the difference between men and women for quite some time. I don't think Gail Green was predicting that internet meme by quoting it to Jake in 2002. Rather, I think she had probably seen the classic film, Adam's Rib, starring Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn as a pair of married attorneys who go up against each other in court in a case involving a woman who shot her husband. They have a discussion about the differences between men and women and Tracy's character translates vive la difference as meaning "hurrah for that little difference".