The Greens of Jericho

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Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 7 

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 350 pages and now 8 or 9 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 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, 11:19 am (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

"All right if I join you?" Heather inquired of the other three Greens in attendance at Jericho Elementary's annual Field Day.  They were in the lunch break, and while she had attempted to take charge of her class for the boxed lunch picnic, her room mothers had been unwilling to hear of it. 

"Everything is under control," Darla Peterman (mother of Emma P) had assured Heather two minutes earlier.  "We are perfectly capable of looking after twenty-five kids for a half hour," she'd added, gesturing at Melissa Landeros, her co-room mom for the year.

"Exactly," Melissa had confirmed, nodding vigorously.  "Plus, a little birdie told me that today's your birthday," she'd informed Heather, cocking her head toward Mrs. McVeigh, who was keeping a watchful eye on a knot of seventh and eighth grade boys as they selected their boxed lunches.  "So, think of this as a birthday present.  Happy Birthday!" 

"We've been with them all morning," Darla had added.  Field Day was one of the biggest days of the year on the school calendar, and the core group of twenty or so room parents (for the first time ever there had been a room father this year, prompting the PTA to change the official title from room mothers to parents) had taken charge of shepherding the students to and from their events while the teachers had overseen those events with the help of even more parent volunteers.  "And we've done pretty good, haven't had to haul even one of them over to see Doctor Green at the first-aid station, not even for a band-aid."

"Knock on wood right now," Heather had ordered, laughing and looking around for something that would qualify, before finally reaching into her tote bag to produce a spiral notebook that she quickly rapped her knuckles on.  "Honestly, your kids are safe with me, but we do go through the band-aids in the third grade."

"We know," Melissa had smiled, clarifying, "That they're safe.  Our kids love your class.  But you should join your in-laws for lunch," she'd suggested, pointing to where Gail and Johnston stood off to the side, apparently unable to decide where to sit.  "Unless – unless you don't want to?" she'd squeaked, frowning at the possibility.  "I just figured you liked them.  I always liked them.  And, you at least like Doctor Green, right?" she'd asked, pointing at April who'd walked up to join the elder Greens, exchanging a quick hug with Gail.

"I do like them," Heather had chuckled, "All of them.  They're great.  I'm just—"

"Go!" Darla and Melissa had ordered, with Melissa suggesting, "But you can sit twenty feet away if you want, keep an eye on us."

"Well, thank you," Heather had sighed, finally acquiescing to their kind offer.  "This is very nice of you."

"We want to make sure you miss us next year," Darla had teased.  "Now, please, go Mrs. Green."

"I've been kicked out of the third grade, at least for today," Heather told her in-laws.  "Or for lunch to be completely accurate.  Though I've also been told I don't have to go very far.  But my room moms insist that they can handle things without me."

"We were hoping you'd join us, honey," Gail smiled, "Or invite us to join you."

"And it is your birthday," April reminded, squeezing between her parents-in-law to offer Heather a hug.  "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Heather laughed.  "And of course, I wanted to join you guys for lunch."

Gail handed the picnic blanket she'd had tucked under her arm to her husband.  "Would you set up for us?  Close to the third grade," she instructed.  "And, I assume you want ham?" she asked, handing him her purse.

"Ham would be nice, but I'll take roast beef in a pinch," Johnston answered, holding out his arm, inviting, "April?  Heather?"

Laughing, Heather threaded her tote bag onto his arm.  "Protect that with your life," she ordered, affecting an overly serious tone.  "Contained therein is the only record of this year's softball tournament's standings in existence."

"Mine's nowhere near as important as all that," April joked, handing her father-in-law her backpack.  "Just my favorite stethoscope, wallet and keys."

"Your Melissa Landeros is formerly Melissa Healy," Gail informed Heather as the three Green women got into line behind four sixth grade girls to pick up their boxed lunches.  "Marilyn Thom's niece," she said, naming her next-door neighbor.  "I recognized her right away."

"Really?" Heather returned, her tone laced with interest.  "So, Jake would know who she is, right?  If not by name, then if I told him she was Mrs. Thom's niece, right?  I asked him last week if he knew who she was and all he could say was 'maybe'."

"He should know who she is.  Melissa spent a lot of time with the Thoms growing up," Gail explained, grabbing a boxed lunch that had an 'H' scrawled in red marker on top.  "Melissa was her parents' – Marilyn's eldest brother and his wife's – change of life baby.  She's at least fifteen years younger than her siblings, but she's just a year younger than Lisa, and not even eighteen months older than Wendy.  Marilyn had the energy for Melissa, but I'm not sure her parents always did.  The kids all played together fairly often when they were little," she concluded, stacking a boxed lunch labelled with a blue 'RB' on top of her other box.  "As much as you would expect two little boys who claimed all girls have cooties to play with the three little girls next door, anyway.  But Jake should know who Missy Healy is."

"Well, I will ask him if he does," Heather decided, grabbing a turkey boxed lunch (marked with a black 'T') off the table.  She handed it to April, confiding, "He's calling me at two.  And again, at four forty-five."  She picked up another turkey box for herself, then led her mother- and sister-in-law down the line of tables to the drink station.  "He's even gonna try for another call after I get home from dinner, so, uh, don't be offended if I'm headed home right by seven thirty."

"I'd actually already been clued in on that," April said, tucking two bottles of water under one arm while Heather followed suit.  "So, I made us a reservation at Roma Italia for six, but they promised they'd seat us as early as five thirty if we're all there.  You'll definitely be home by eight, okay?"

"Thanks.  So, obviously you're in on Jake's plan for my birthday, too, huh?" Heather asked as the three of them started back toward Johnston and their picnic spot.

"Heather tricked me into telling her that Jake had a plan," Gail confessed then, sighing.  "And that there might be more to it than just delivery of one birthday cake."

"What I know is that Gail told me about the cake, and I arranged a dinner reservation," April listed, "And anything else – if there is anything else – you don't get to know about yet."

"'Fun surprises' Heather," her mother-in-law reminded.  "That's what he wants to give you for your birthday.  And you need to let him do that," she requested.  "Though I really think you want to let him do that for you."

Heather nodded, exhaling, "Yeah, I do."

Johnston stood as soon as he spotted the three women heading his way.  "Thank you, sweetie," he told his wife as she handed him his boxed lunch.  "And, thank you, darlin'," he smiled, accepting a bottle of water from April.

The four Greens seated themselves on the blanket, though before she could even open her box, Heather had to jump up to stop a pair of boys who were "sword fighting" with plastic knives. She confiscated the knives and then sent them back toward the fifth-grade teacher, Miss Duncan, who shook her head and threw her hands up in the air.  "What I don't get is where they even got these," Heather groaned, retaking her seat on the blanket.  "I mean, did they seriously put knives in the lunches this year?"

"I don't think I got one," April answered, rummaging through her box.

"I sure didn't get one," Johnston frowned, squirting the contents of his mustard packet on top of his ham and the rubbing the top half of his roll on the line of mustard. 

"Well, I can give you one of these if you really want a knife," Heather offered doubtfully. 

"Nah, I'll make due," her father-in-law returned, winking at her.

"If there's one thing I know about boys that age," Gail chuckled, "It's that they can turn anything into a weapon, and they're always looking for things to turn into weapons.  That's how they got 'em," she concluded.  "They were on the lookout."

"Yeah, that's pretty much boys in a nutshell," Heather grinned. 

"Now, what I want to know is how your breakfast date went," Gail declared, clarifying with her next breath, "Not the details, but did you two have a nice time?"

"We had a great time," Heather smiled, her whole face lighting up.  "And we've actually managed, like, three long conversations in the last week, but this was the best one.  We got to talk for a long time, and I got to see him finally."  She emitted a deep sigh, telling them, "He looked tired.  He says it’s the heat, and it probably is.  But it's also the work and the hours."

Gail frowned at that.  "Well, I don't like hearing that," she sighed.  "But I know he was looking forward to your breakfast date, so don't feel bad about getting the chance to talk to and to see him," she advised, extracting her roast beef sandwich from her box.  "If I know my son, he just said he'd sleep later."

"Pretty much," Heather agreed, flashing them all a wan smile.

"But I hope you remembered to ask him about the cake," Gail said.  "I'm curious to know the story behind that."

"I didn't actually," Heather chuckled, taking a sip from her bottle of water.  "I forgot to, but then he ended up telling me on his own.  It was for breakfast," she explained.

"The cake was for breakfast?" her mother-in-law repeated, her eyebrows arched in question.

Heather shook her head.  "I know.  It's crazy, and actually very sweet, and he was a little annoyed at first that I didn't realize—"

"He was annoyed?" his mother asked, sounding a little annoyed herself.

"What he said was that he thought I was the one person who would have realized what the cake was for," Heather explained.  "I'd told Jake that Kerry's family has always celebrated half birthdays, and that they also always have birthday-cake-for-breakfast on their birthdays.  I told him that was an idea I could get behind," she giggled.  "And I was joking, really.  But he took it to heart, and ordered the cake for me as soon as he could.  So then, he seemed a little annoyed that I didn't know what he was up to."

"Ah yes, that is a phenomenon I'm familiar with," Gail returned dryly, shooting her husband a mock dirty look.  "We are expected to just always know."

"Well, he can be annoyed with me this time because he's the only person who would ever go to that much effort to get me a birthday cake for breakfast based on one offhand comment," Heather decided.  "And so, I ate way too much cake-for-breakfast, and we've agreed to adopt the tradition as our own from here on out," she grinned, "Including the cream cheese frosting on the Kahlua cake.  For me at least."

"Good Lord, that actually does sound like you two," April snickered.  "And I'm just surprised it's taken you this long to decide you should eat cake-for-breakfast."

"Well, I know that I sometimes have the eating habits of a fifteen-year-old boy," Heather allowed, laughing self-consciously.  "But I come by it honestly, at least.  I was raised amongst a bunch of teenage boys."

"You were just a rose among thorns, darlin'," Johnston teased.  "Though we have the reverse today, since I get to be the thorn amongst the roses."

"Thank you!" Heather replied, offering her father-in-law a pleased grin.  "And, for your information," she continued, glancing at April, " I only told Jake about the Burkes' tradition because of Megan's half birthday.  I'd completely forgotten about it, even though one time in high school when Maeve's birthday was on a Saturday, I was invited to spend the night on Friday, so I actually got to have a piece of cake-for-breakfast.  Anyway," she said, finally taking a breath.  "Jake wanted to know if celebrating half birthdays was a real thing.  So now, we're gonna have cake-for-breakfast on birthdays, and maybe we'll celebrate half birthdays too, who knows?"

"I think that's a very sweet tradition to start for your future family," Gail declared, smiling at the younger woman.  "Literally and figuratively."

"And Megan's a real little sweetheart," Johnston opined then, extracting the bag of potato chips that had come with his lunch from the box.

"I'll trade ya, Dad," April offered, pulling a bag of Fritos from her box.  "I know how much you like these."  He grinned his approval and they exchanged their bags.

"I'm going to need to trade, too," Gail declared a few seconds later, making a face and showing them all her bag of Cheetos.

"Eating habits of a fifteen-year-old boy," Heather reminded, pointing at herself and then showing her mother-in-law her own bag of sour cream and onion flavored potato chips.  "And thank you," she added, smiling at Johnston.  "Our niece and goddaughter is adorable, if I do say so myself."

"Now, those I'll eat," Gail confirmed.  "And you and Jake were very smart to accept John and Kerry's request that you be Megan's godparents," she teased.

"We were so honored!  But really it does appear to have been a very shrewd move on our parts," Heather joked.  "She's such a cutie."

 "So, did Jake finally tell you where you're going for your anniversary trip?" Gail inquired as she and Heather swapped chip bags.  "It turns out I actually do want very specific details on very specific subjects," she chuckled, exchanging grins with her daughter-in-law.  "But did he tell you, or is he saving that for later in the day?" 

"He told me, just very covertly," Heather laughed.  "We were on an unsecure connection, so what he actually told me to do was read my email.  He'd sent me one email from his DEA account, one from his regular account," she explained.  "But the one from his DEA account said 'READ THIS ONE' in all caps, and gave me three things I could say to him to let him know which option I picked.  Very secret squirrel stuff.  I picked the first one," she continued, tearing open her mustard packet and squirting it on top of the turkey layer of her turkey sandwich.  "It's where he wants to go, and that's fine by me.  I just wanna see him, spend some time together.  And if we get to do that in paradise, so much the better."  She held up the mayonnaise packet she'd found on the bottom of her box, offering, "Anyone want this?"

"I'll take it.  And I'll even trade you since it's your birthday," April proposed, holding up her own mustard packet.  "I know all about your phobia of shelf-stable dairy products – and things you think are dairy products even if they aren't."

"I just don't trust 'em," the younger woman confirmed, complaining, "So icky!  And mayonnaise is basically a dairy product.  It's got eggs, and that's close enough for my phobia.  They put eggs in the dairy case."

"Right.  And every year at Field Day, Jake always trades you his mustard for your mayo packet," April recalled knowingly.  "Even though he always gets ham, and ham with mayonnaise is disgusting.  Now that's true love."

"I, for one, like mayo with my ham," Johnston threw in.  "So, don't go knockin' it, if you don't mind.  And I think Jake likes it too."

"He does," Gail and Heather said in near unison.  "But," Heather continued, "It's still true love."

"It most definitely is," Gail agreed, shooting her daughter-in-law an encouraging smile. 

"Jake even told me this morning that he loves me for the weird stuff, too," she laughed.  "Which I assume includes my phobia of mayo packets and those 'Cheez'n'Crackerz' packs they sometimes give you on planes these days."

"Please, he's never even noticed that you don't eat 'Cheez'n'Crackerz'.  You just ask for something peanut butter based instead and that makes perfect sense to Jake," April returned.

Heather's only response was to shrug and take a bite of her sandwich.

"But where's paradise?" Gail asked.  "You didn't say."

"And what were the other options?" April added.  "I'm not kidding.  I'd like a real vacation this summer, and if there's one thing Jake's great at, it's vacations."

"We're going to Hawaii," Heather answered, grinning.  "That's paradise.  Like, literally."

"I met Johnston in Hawaii, when he had leave halfway through his third tour in Vietnam," Gail told her daughters-in-law, tearing a hole in and extracting an apple slice from the sealed bag that had come in her boxed lunch.  "First time I was ever on an airplane," she laughed, exchanging an affectionate glance with her husband.  "I've always liked to think of that week as our real honeymoon."

"We were still newlyweds when we were in Hawaii," Johnston argued, "I kinda like to think of that as our honeymoon, too, Mrs. Green.  Second half."

"Newlyweds, indeed," his wife confirmed, sighing.  "We'd been married for a year and a half, but we'd only spent five or six weeks of our marriage together at that point," she explained to her daughters-in-law.  "And our first honeymoon was three nights at the Rogue River Holiday Inn.  Not that that wasn't lovely," she assured Johnston, squeezing his arm.  "But no bride wants to send her new husband back to the army after two and a half days."

"Of course not!" Heather exclaimed.

Frowning, April finished smearing her second mayonnaise packet on her turkey sandwich.  "I would've hated that," she murmured, "And I'm the woman who came home from five days in Ensenada and then had so much work to make up she didn't really see her new husband for two weeks."  She looked at her mother- and sister-in-law, her expression turning sheepish.  "And I know that two weeks is nothing in comparison to – to six months?" she guessed.

"Well, it's only been four months, and we'll be together a month from now, so that's only five," Heather declared.  "And I'd totally take three nights at the Rogue River Holiday Inn," she admitted, smiling at Johnston and Gail, "But I'm glad we get sixteen days in Hawaii, mostly because it's sixteen days and not just three.  I don't think I could've survived only seeing Jake for a week every three months the first year and a half we were married," she sighed.  "I really miss him."

"We know, sweetheart," her mother-in-law consoled.  "And you know we're always here for you, whatever you need."

"I know.  And thank you," Heather said, smiling at Gail.  "And thank you," she repeated, glancing at Johnston.  "Because today I really needed an umpire, and that definitely makes you, my hero de jour."

"Happy to do it, Heather," her father-in-law replied, offering her a gentle grin.  "It's been a while since I umpired, but it was fun.  And I was impressed by how well those tournament rules work."

"Jake wrote 'em," she told him, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"I saw that," he acknowledged.  "He did a good job."

"That's what I thought," Heather agreed, "But ninety-nine percent of what I know about baseball, I learned from Jake, so I'm thinking if you tell him that it'd mean more.  More than me telling him for the hundredth time.  Just a guess."

Johnston froze for just a moment before offering her a sharp nod.  "I'll—"  He cleared his throat before continuing.  "I'll take that under advisement."

"So, how's the softball tournament going?"  Gail inquired.  "I was hoping to wander over and check out the two of you in action, but I had an assignment to organize the prize ribbons and then Sandy asked me to take over the relay races so Mrs. Goodhart could take a kindergartner who was having an asthma attack to see April."

"Wasn't actually an asthma attack," April corrected, "But still better not to risk it.  Poor kiddo has asthma, but this was just extreme excitement – not even a panic attack – she was just super excited about Field Day.  It was … very cute.  Ridiculously adorable," she sighed, forcing a smile.

"Well, I'm glad you were there to look after her," Heather told her sister-in-law.  "And, the tournament is going well," she continued, glancing at Gail.  "The third/sixth grade team is in the lead, but only by one point.  Jake's scoring system actually means we sometimes have a difference in the scores.  Not always, though."

"I've umpired one game so far," Johnston threw in, "Third/sixth versus second/seventh.  Bit of a blowout.  Four to one."

"Actually, the most exciting game of the day so far," Heather interjected.

"And depending on how the semis go – if second/seventh wins their game, I'll be umpiring the final game, otherwise it'll be Derek Hyde," Johnston explained.

"And I've got the paperwork and The Record article under control," Heather concluded, "So it's all good.  But if you can make the final, you might get to see Johnston in action.  Or not.  We'll see."

"I will try to be there," Gail promised.

"So, what were the other options?" April questioned, popping the last bite of an apple slice in her mouth.  "For your fancy-schmancy vacation.  I told you – I need vacation ideas."

"San Diego and 'try again, Jake'," Heather replied, shrugging.  "Which I was never gonna say.  It's not like he really has time to go planning vacations, so whatever he picked was gonna be fine by me.  And we both love San Diego," she continued, playing with a Cheeto before absently popping it in her mouth.   "But we can pretty much always go there.  You and Eric should try San Diego," she'd advised her sister-in-law.  "Stay at The Del, it's nice."

"I remember the pictures from your last trip," April reminded, grinning.  "That is a definite possibility.  It's like extra fancy-schmancy," she decided.  "But boy, Jake must be feeling pretty guilty about being gone for so long and everything.  And you turned down two weeks at The Del for Hawaii?"

"We're staying in a condo in Hawaii, and if we'd gone to San Diego for two weeks, we would've stayed in one there, too," Heather protested, scowling at her sister-in-law for a moment.  "It's not like we just go around wasting money," she insisted.  "But for a weekend – for a treat – The Del is a lotta fun.  And Jake isn't feeling guilty," she declared, pointing a Cheeto at April to emphasize the point.  "He's got nothin' to be guilty for."

"Sorry," April apologized, "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Heather said, exhaling a long breath.  "Look, I picked Hawaii because – as Jake pointed out – I like their pizza, and it'll be another state for my list.  Plus – and Jake didn't think of this – they grow coffee in Hawaii.  Of course, I picked Hawaii."

"Hard to believe you've waited twenty-seven years to go," Gail teased.  "But I've no doubt you two will have a lovely time."

"Yeah, I can't wait," Heather smiled in return.  "What'd you guys do in Hawaii?  Anything fun?" she inquired.  "Not that I'm asking for details of a—"

"Risqué nature?" Gail supplied, laughing softly.  "We do have an agreement after all, sweetheart."

Blushing, Heather made a face.  "Exactly," she groaned, "We don't need to talk about things of a – a private nature."

"Well, darlin', I'm not sure I have full understanding of your agreement with Gail," Johnston drawled, "But as I remember it, there's just somethin' about Hawaii that might inspire a risqué thought or two."

Shaking her head at her husband, Gail came to Heather's rescue.  "We visited Pearl Harbor, of course.  Went to a luau – that was an eye-opening experience for a barely twenty-one-year-old girl from Rogue River, Kansas, let me tell you.  But mostly, we just took walks on the beach and talked.  It was paradise – and a lovely place to reconnect."

"I think it'll be perfect for us," Heather decided.  "Also, I'm pretty sure there is no way I'm gonna be able to eat this," she announced, holding up the plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookie that had come in her boxed lunch.  "I'm still on a bit of a sugar high from having cake-for-breakfast," she admitted, chuckling along with her three companions.  "Johnston?" she offered, holding the cookie out to him.  "You did come to my umpiring rescue."

"Thank you, darlin'," he said, accepting the cookie.  "And you know, if there's ever anything you need from me – that goes for both of you," he added, catching April's eye.  "Well, all you have to do is ask."

Both his daughters-in-law smiled at that, declaring together, "Thank you!"

A few seconds later, Chuck Landeros approached the four Greens, clearing his throat to get their attention.  "Uh, Mrs. Green…."  He trailed off, settling for pointing toward where his wife and the other third grade room mother, Darla Peterman were consoling two crying girls, neither of whom were their respective daughters.

"Right behind you," Heather promised before glancing back at her family.  "Duty calls."

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Tuesday June 6, 1:38 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

The little girl threw her arms around Heather's waist, declaring in a sing-songy voice, "I love you Mrs. Green!"

Heather laughed joyfully, cupping the child's head for a moment and assuring her, "I love you too, Madison.  Now," she continued a few seconds later, "You better get going." 

She pointed to Melissa Landeros, who was waiting about twenty feet away with her husband, her son, and seven other of Heather's students who hadn't yet been picked up by their parents.  Heather had tried to take responsibility for delivering them to the cafeteria – the After School Club aides had been asked to start ninety minutes early today – but Melissa had refused to hear of it. 

"It's still your birthday," she'd reminded.  "All day long, and even into the evening.  I can handle walking seven kids over for you, save you ten minutes of your life."

"Well, I am expecting Jake to call me any moment now," Heather had allowed.  "My Jake, I mean."

Melissa had laughed at that.  "Well, my Jake seems to have a little bit of a crush on you, so the clarification is actually helpful," she'd joked.  "Oh, ew!  I just heard myself, and I was not accusing you of anything, I swear."

"Didn't think you were," Heather had assured the other woman.  "Little boy crushes are kind of, uh, an occupational hazard of mine."

"I'm sure.  Besides, at least now I know my kid has great taste.  And, he's been way easier to get outta bed and to school all year, which is a nice change," Melissa had smiled.  "So, thank you for that.  His sister is a little annoyed that she has to share her favorite teacher with her brother, but she'll survive."   

"I have four brothers, so I can say I would've been annoyed too," Heather had chuckled.  "Luckily the teachers we had in common were all nuns, and I'm pretty sure they none of them ever had a crush on a nun."  She'd paused for a moment before declaring, "You know, I've really enjoyed having both your kids in my class this year, and am very grateful that you came along with them as a room mom.  So, thank you."

"You're welcome.  And thank you for saying that.  And Happy Birthday!"

Already three steps away, Madison called back over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Green.  You're my favoritest teacher ever!"

"Thanks, sweetheart," Heather called after the little girl as she skipped toward her parents, ending up between them, holding both their hands.  She let herself indulge in a moment of "thinking ahead" then, imagining herself and Jake walking with their child – their daughter – between them, clutching their hands and chattering away.  So involved in her flight of fancy – and trying to decide whether to set her scene a decade or a dozen years in the future – Heather missed hearing what her mother-in-law was saying to her and had to ask Gail to repeat herself.  "Sorry.  I was thinking about something else.  What did you say?"

Gail, her eyes bright with some private thought of her own, offered her daughter-in-law a gentle smile.  "I just said that I think we have proof that you are definitely not the 'other Mrs. Green', Mrs. Green," she declared, pointing after the Landeros family.  "Certainly not in that little girl's eyes.  Particularly because I'm positive she has no idea who I am!"

"The 'other Mrs. Green'?" April questioned from five feet away.  She was working to pack up the first-aid station with the assistance of her father-in-law.  "Who's the 'other Mrs. Green'?"

"I am!" Heather and Gail declared in unison, exchanging identical amused grins. 

"Heather and I were talking yesterday, and for some reason, she thinks of herself as the 'other Mrs. Green'," Gail explained. 

"I just said that most people hear 'Mrs. Green' and they think of Gail.  She's the original, so I'm the other one," Heather reasoned. 

"To be honest, I still think of Betsy as the original Mrs. Green," Gail admitted, "And myself as a bit of an upstart."

"If you're an upstart, what does that make me?  Mrs. Green in the larval form?"

April shook her head, rolling her eyes at her sister-in-law.  "Only you could go from upstart to larval in exactly one step," she complained.  "Though, the butterflies were a great way to kick off things this morning."

Heather and her students had raised over a hundred caterpillars that had only started emerging from their cocoons over the weekend.  Field Day always began with a small "opening ceremony" modeled after the Olympics, and the co-class presidents of the third grade – Jacob W and Samantha T – had released the butterflies at the exact moment Mayor Johnston Green had declared, "And now, let Field Day begin!"

"I'm glad it worked out, because I was really sweating it when I checked the science lab yesterday morning and we only had twelve or fifteen butterflies," Heather told the other three Greens, recounting, "But it was almost fifty by the time I took my class to the lab after lunch, and we got to watch a good dozen emerge from their cocoons while we were there.  And basically, everyone was a butterfly by this morning.  I should have trusted the science," she sighed. "The American Painted Lady butterfly only has a lifespan of two to four weeks, so timing their emergence from the cocoon for Field Day was a little tricky.  But I wanted to do one more life cycle lesson with them, and I figured we'd hit Field Day, awards day, or the last day of school.  Still, I'm really glad we hit Field Day."

"Well, you make it look effortless, sweetheart," Gail insisted.  "And you are a very good – an excellent – teacher."

"I'm glad you hit Field Day, too, 'cause it was a nice change of pace for me," Johnston threw in.  "Now I've got an inklin' of what it must feel like to be one of the gods.  I say 'Let Field Day begin!' and a beautiful cloud of butterflies goes up.  Makes me look like I've got some power 'round here.  And," he continued, hefting the medical center's field kit onto its rolling cart, "As the only living person who has known all five of the most recent Mrs. Greens – I'm including you in that list, Dr. Green—"

"Thank you, Dad," April interjected, grinning at her father-in-law. 

"But having known the five most recent claimants to the title," he repeated, "I can say you three are all a credit to it.  Nary an upstart amongst you."

"Johnston Green, you flirt," his wife accused, giving into a smile a few seconds later.  "Heather," she announced, turning to face the younger woman, "We're just going to have to agree to both be main Mrs. Greens, with no one the 'other', okay?" 

Her daughter-in-law nodded.  "Okay, we can do that." 

"Good," Gail acknowledged.  "But I still say, you are the only Mrs. Green as far as the children of this town are concerned." 

"I can verify that," April announced, "Because last week you earned me some much-needed credibility points with one of my patients," she informed Heather.  "Thirteen-year-old girl.  She asked me if I was related to Mrs. Green, her favorite teacher ever.  So, when I told her you were my sister-in-law and best friend ever, she decided that maybe I wasn't being mean and maybe she could talk to me.  And she's not my first pediatric – or adult – patient to sing your praises.  Not by a long shot."

"If she's thirteen, she was probably my student when I was still Miss Lisinski," Heather argued.

"And you've stayed interested in her and encouraged her ever since you magically became Mrs. Green," April countered. 

"So much magic involved in that transformation," Heather joked.  "Like a butterfly emerging from her cocoon."

"See?  Exactly what I'm saying.  Because you're like the opposite of the little old lady in the shoe: you're not old, and you know exactly what to do with all of your hundred plus kids."

"Also, don't live in a shoe," Heather reminded.

"Just take the compliment, darlin'," Johnston advised, a grin twitching at his lips.

"Thank you," April declared, exasperated.  She looked down at her watch, groaning softly.  "I need to get.  I have an appointment at two-fifteen that I can't miss."

"You never schedule appointments on Field Day," Heather frowned. 

"I usually don't," her sister-in-law agreed.  "If I don't schedule patient appointments on Field Day, then there are never major injuries at Field Day and I get a light afternoon.  It's worked so far."

"Thankfully!" Heather agreed, sighing.  "And everyone, knock on wood as soon as you see some," she instructed, earning nods and smiles from the other three Greens.  "So, is it a personal appointment?  Something for—"

"Nope," her sister-in-law denied immediately.  "Just one time-sensitive appointment for a busy person.  I booked it as a favor."  The slightly desperate look the April threw to her mother-in-law went unnoticed by Heather – but not by Johnston.

"We will help you get all of this to your car then," Gail offered, pointing at the pile of equipment, including two folding tables and a canopy, that April and Johnston had amassed when they had broken down the first-aid station.

"Best in-laws ever," April grinned, "Thank you."  All four of them immediately reached for various pieces of equipment, and April tapped Heather on the arm.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping take things to your car," the younger woman answered.  "Same as everyone else."

"My offer didn't include you, honey," Gail scolded.  "In fact, you were very much excluded."

"Why?" Heather wanted to know.

"It's your birthday," April proclaimed as if that settled things – and as if she thought the younger woman had forgotten.

"So?  I can still help," Heather countered stubbornly.

"Jake's calling you at two, right?" April reminded.  "That's in less than twenty minutes—"

"Taking this stuff to the parking lot isn't gonna take twenty minutes," Heather argued, even as she let her father-in-law relieve her of the travel-case he had stowed the portable canopy in less than ten minutes before.

"It shouldn't," April agreed, "But you also need to go to your classroom, and the office—"

"I think I can skip checking my box in the office for one day," Heather countered obstinately.  "School's out in two days and it's not gonna matter if I pick up my mail in the morning instead of this afternoon.  It's my birthday after all."

"Well, really, sweetheart, I would encourage you to rethink that," Gail counseled.

While her mother-in-law had opted for subtlety, April decided to be blunt.  "Heather, it's your birthday.  You really think there isn't something waiting for you in the office?  From your husband?  Who always—"

"Gets me flowers," Heather realized.  She glanced at Gail.  "Is this the other thing you helped him with?" she asked, before turning her gaze toward April.  "Or you, since you're in on Jake's plan too?"

"You really think Jake needs anyone's assistance getting you flowers?" April returned.  "I figure he gets a volume discount or has a revolving line of credit at the florist's," she joked.  "Both, probably."

"You're just jealous," Heather accused, a small grin blooming on her lips. 

"Of course, I am," April chuckled, rolling her eyes.  "Of all the genes they could've both gotten a copy of, why couldn't it have been the flower giving gene?"

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," Gail laughed.  "Though, that does seem like a Green family characteristic—"

"Really?" Johnston interrupted, clearly trying to suppress a chuckle.  "Seems very O'Brien t' me."

"Maybe it's a recessive gene that would only express itself if they got it from both of you," Heather suggested. 

"Sweetie, I think we're bein' held equally responsible for this flaw in Eric's character," Johnston informed his wife.  "Which seems fair."

"Better than blaming one of us," Gail reasoned, "And letting the other completely off the hook."

"I'm not blaming anyone," April assured.  "I'm just lamenting one very minor-in-the-scheme-of-things disappointment, that's all.  But you know," she continued, "Jake sent me flowers for my birthday this year – probably out of pity, since he knows his brother – so no way he forgot you, on yours, Heather.  He's probably had your flowers ordered since your last birthday.  Mine was a lovely mixed bouquet, so for you… I'm guessing two, maybe three, dozen red roses."

"No way, Jake sent me three dozen roses," Heather denied.  "That's a little ostentatious, even for him.  Besides, he knows that there's no way I could successfully get that big a vase, that many roses, home without destroying them."

"And how does he know that?" April asked, clearly amused.

Heather rolled her eyes.  "Mostly because he was an ear witness to my losing my keys getting into my car the other morning.  Apparently, I like to regularly remind him that he married a dork."

"You're not a dork, honey," Gail contradicted immediately.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I am!" Heather giggled, shaking her head.

"You kinda are," April agreed cheerfully.  "But that's okay, because I'm pretty sure Jake just said that made him love you even more," she guessed, reminding, "I hang out with you guys a lot.  I know how these things tend to go."

"Well, yeah, pretty much," Heather conceded, her expression turning sheepish.  "Okay," she announced a beat later, "I will completely bail on you all and stick you with getting all this to the car."  She gestured at the not insubstantial pile of equipment with both hands.  "So that I can selfishly go back to my classroom, plus go to the office to see what flowers—"

"Roses.  Red.  Three dozen," April predicted.  "I'm placing my bet."

"It's probably red roses, but it's not gonna be three dozen," Heather repeated, exhaling with a huff.  "So, I'll make sure to go to the office, and also be available when Jake calls at two."

"That's all we're asking, sweetheart," Gail smiled, stepping toward her daughter-in-law and pulling her into a hug.  "Now, Happy Birthday!  And we will see you in a few hours at the restaurant.  As close to five thirty as we can all manage."

"Okay," Heather acknowledged, smiling in return.  "Thank you."

"What she said," April grinned, cocking her head toward her mother-in-law as they switched places.  She hugged Heather as well.  "Happy Birthday!  We'll see you tonight.  And, if I'm right about your roses, you hafta go riding with me on Friday, too.  In the morning, 'cause I'm always booked up with appointments on Friday afternoon."

"And if I'm right?"

"Then you hafta go riding with me on Friday morning," April informed her.  "It'll make Jake happy."

"I see what you did there," Heather grumbled.  "And if I can still walk Friday morning, I'll go riding with you, 'kay?"

"That works."

Johnston cleared his throat then, drawing the three women's attention.  He held his arms open.  "Well, since I'm not invited to dinner tonight – and I'm not askin' t' be, either," he assured, "I'm gonna hafta give you your final Happy Birthday hug right now, darlin'."

"Absolutely!" Heather agreed, stepping into his embrace.  Johnston pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then she surprised him – surprised herself, too – by standing on tiptoe and leaning close to his ear to whisper, "Jake and I are fine.  We're great.  You don't hafta worry about us."

She pulled away and their gazes locked.  "I'm – I'm glad to hear it, Heather," he told her.    "Very glad, darlin'.  Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," she sighed, offering him a shy grin.  "And thank you again for umpiring.  Really saved my bacon," she teased. 

"Happy to do it.  Had fun.  Almost wish I could've taken a second turn," he claimed.  "Though, I s'pose your team's win might be a little suspicious if your father-in-law had called the game.  Congratulations on that, by the way."

"I've taught all those kids," she reminded, "So yeah, I'm pretty proud."  Heather turned around, facing her mother- and sister-in-law.  "Okay, I'm going now.  Abandoning you to all this work."

"We can handle it," April insisted, "Say 'hi' to Jake for us."

Gail pointed Heather toward the school building, jokingly ordering, "Get a move on young lady."

"I'm going, I'm going," she repeated.  "Love you guys."

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

Tuesday June 6, 2:11 pm (Jericho KS)

3 and a half months before the bombs

Heather’s head was swimming.  She'd just thumbed decline on her phone for the third time, hanging up on her husband for the third time, when – really – all she wanted to do was talk to him.  Talk to him, and tell him about all that had happened in the half hour since she'd taken leave of his parents and April.  Since the day they had met, Jake had been her sounding board, always willing to listen without judgment.  She needed that right now.  And, as she'd told him the week before, she just needed to hear his voice. 

She'd made it into the school building itself – though not her classroom – before her cell phone had rung with the ringtone that indicated the call was from someone in her family in Buffalo.  Pulling the phone out of her tote bag, she'd recognized the number as that of her brother, Michael.  He had been, it turned out, on a ten-minute break during his sixteen-hour EMT shift.  So, he'd sung the Birthday Song – badly – and then she'd taken him to task for accusing her husband of sending him inappropriate email.  But Michael had quickly turned the tables on her, putting her on the defense, when he'd asked when she was planning on having a kid, and hopefully satisfying the frustrated maternal instinct she tended to misdirect at him.

"That's not a conversation I'm gonna have with you on my birthday, Mikey," she'd muttered, opening her classroom's door with her key.  "Or ever, really," she'd added, dropping her tote bag on the nearest student desk.  "With you or anyone else who isn't my husband."

"Fine by me, sis," he'd returned easily.  "Just as long as you guys talk about it.  I mean," Michael had continued, "You guys have been married for four years.  You got your masters two years ago.  People are starting to worry."

She'd groaned at that, throwing herself into her desk chair.  "Well, people don't need to worry about that – about us.  He didn't abandon me, okay?  Jake and I are fine.  We're great," Heather had insisted, repeating the words she'd said to her father-in-law not ten minutes earlier.  "And we're gonna have kids when we have kids.  And that's not people's business, it's not your business – it's our business.  Got it, Mikey?"

"Got it," he'd muttered.  "And I'm happy to stay out of your business, it's just …." He'd trailed off, exhaling nervously.  "I know you want a kid.  You probably want a bunch of kids.  Like Jake can have his own baseball team—"

"I don't – we don't – want a baseball team's worth of kids," she'd contradicted, exasperated.  "That's nine kids, Mikey.  Nobody wants that."

"Tell me you guys have talked about it," Michael had requested then.  "Or at least that you're gonna.  Or – better – that you're already secretly tryin' to get pregnant.  I mean, that would make sense, since Jake's telling me he's gonna send me a plane ticket so I can come meet your kid and all."

"Well, I'm not secretly trying to get pregnant while my husband is on another continent," she'd moaned.  "For obvious reasons." 

"Right," her brother had grunted.

"But hey," she'd continued, her tone brightening, "We're going to Hawaii for our anniversary, and you'll be happy to know that this very subject is on the agenda—"

"Heth!"

"—for discussion."  She'd made an annoyed noise.  "It's on the agenda for discussion, Mikey.  Discussion.  We're – we've talked about it some already, okay?  And we're gonna talk about it some more.  In Hawaii.  Happy?" 

"Thrilled," he'd returned. 

"Why are we even talking about this?" Heather had demanded, annoyed.

"Because you're my sister and I love you," Michael had sighed.  "And, you know, I think you'll be a pretty great mom.  And Jake probably won't suck as—"

"Jake isn't gonna suck!" she'd protested.  "He's gonna be a great dad."

"Cool," Michael had acknowledged.  "You would know.  And I still say, you have your own kid – kids – to worry about, like a reasonable number of kids—"

"Two or three kids."

"Seems totally reasonable," he'd agreed.  "But have your own two or three kids, and maybe you can ease up on me a little?"

"I'll try," she'd promised.  "But," Heather had giggled, "You know I was supposed to stop calling you 'Mikey' like five, six years ago, and we both know how well that went." 

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda used to you calling me 'Mikey'," he'd admitted.  "And I'm not – I'm not sayin' butt out of my life completely.  It's just I am a grown up, got into medical school and everything.  So, you don't need to tell me when to go to bed, okay?"

"Okay, that sounds fair, Mike."

"So, that's the first and last time I'm gonna hear you say that for the next three, four years," he'd joked.

"Probably," she'd agreed.  There had been a perfunctory knock at the door, followed by Principal McVeigh stepping into the classroom a few seconds later.  "Mikey – I mean Mike – my boss is here, so I need to go." 

Mrs. McVeigh had frowned at that, shaking her head 'no', but on the other end of the phone call Michael had allowed a sigh, telling his sister, "That's okay.  My break's been over for about two minutes anyway.  Gotta go save some lives."

"Go save some lives, Mikey," she'd ordered, chuckling.  "I love you."

"Love you, too," he'd replied, "Happy Birthday, Heth."

"I didn't mean you needed to end your call," Mrs. McVeigh had protested when Heather had flipped her cell phone shut. 

"It's okay," Heather had dismissed, "That was my brother Mikey – well, Mike – and his break was over anyway.  He's an EMT."

"The one who was in your wedding, and the one who's going to medical school," the principal had realized. "That gives some context to 'go save some lives' at least," she'd chuckled.  "Calling to wish you 'Happy Birthday', I'm sure."  Heather had nodded her confirmation, prompting Mrs. McVeigh to continue.  "And since it's your birthday, I really don't want to keep you.  I'm sure – well, I know – you have plans for this evening.  Gail was helping me with the ribbon sorting and she mentioned that they're taking you out to dinner—"

"That's not for four hours," Heather had insisted, deciding against telling the other woman that Jake would be calling her in less than ten minutes. 

"Well, as I said, I don't want to keep you, but we have a bit of a time sensitive personnel matter." 

"A personnel matter…" Heather had repeated, an uneasy note sounding in her voice.

 "Yes," the older woman had confirmed.  "Heather, personnel matters are a part of a vice principal's job.  They're a part of a principal's job too.  And they're not my favorite part – or anyone's, I'm sure.  But they are a part of the job, and they do come up."

"Really was my least favorite topic in my least favorite class," Heather had sighed.  "Which I am sure instills you with great confidence in—"

"It's everyone's least favorite topic and class," Mrs. McVeigh has interrupted.  "At least anyone who truly belongs in this job.  Which you do.  And I have great confidence in you.  As does the subject of our personnel matter, actually."

"Okay," Heather had nodded, "And thank you.  So, what do I need to know, and what do I need to do?"

"What you need to know is that Edna Walker is planning to announce her retirement tomorrow, and what you need to do is convince her not to," Mrs. McVeigh had declared.  "I've already tried, and she says that she'll stay another year, but only if you agree."

"Mrs. McVeigh…."

"Sandy, Heather," she'd reminded.  "That's the first thing I need you to do.  Be a little less deferential to your colleagues.  You should always respect them, of course.  But you need to accept that you're the one who's in charge.  They need to respect you – and your authority – too."

She'd gone on to tell Heather that she was an outstanding educator who was always innovating.  That her students, their parents, and the other teachers and staff members all liked and valued her.  Heather was, the principal had emphasized, a good mentor to the newer teachers – or really, any teacher who asked for her advice or assistance.  But Mrs. McVeigh had cautioned, she needed to get comfortable with her new role as a supervisor – sometimes she was just going to have to tell others what she needed them to do, even if they didn't ask, and even if they resisted her direction.  This, it turned out, was why Mrs. McVeigh had decided that Heather would oversee assessing her colleagues' compliance with curriculum standards in the next school year.  She wanted Heather to have the experience of delivering a tough message or two while she was still there to back her up.

There had been more.  "I tried to catch you yesterday afternoon," Mrs. McVeigh had said, "But you had already left—"

"I'm sorry," Heather had apologized, reddening with embarrassment.  "I almost never leave that early, but it's the last week of school, and I was meeting Gail to help her with something," she'd explained.

"I'm not reprimanding you for leaving before four in the afternoon," Mrs. McVeigh had assured then.  "Ever.  If you need to leave before four the first week of school, or the twentieth, or really whenever, I trust you to not abuse the privilege.  We all have lives, and things we need to do.  You work hard, and I know that.  I'm honestly just trying to make myself feel a little better about dropping all this on you on your birthday, I promise."

"That's okay," Heather had replied.  "I mean, this is part of my job now, right?"  Her cell phone, forgotten in her hand, had trilled, playing a tinny version of Take Me Out to the Ballgame.  "Sorry," she'd frowned, flipping the device open so she could decline the call.

"That was Jake, I assume," Mrs. McVeigh had said, protesting, "You didn't need to do that, Heather."

"It's okay," the younger woman had countered.  "We already talked this morning.  We had a breakfast date, actually.  On Skype.  And, he'll call me back.  He knew I might not be able to answer right away.  He'll call back," she'd repeated, trying to unobtrusively mute her phone, though the principal hadn't been fooled.

"Well, that I believe.  Jake is nothing but persistent when it comes to you," she'd smiled. 

Heather had blushed softly at that, but otherwise hadn't acknowledged her boss's statement.  "So, I assume that you wanted to tell me about Mrs. – I mean, Edna – yesterday."

"I did.  That, and the fact that the Fielding Consolidated school board was holding a vote to close their middle school last night.  Declining enrollment.  It passed three to two," Mrs. McVeigh had reported.  "They're sending their seventh and eighth graders to their high school, keeping their sixth graders in their elementary schools."  They both knew that there were four elementary schools in the Fielding CSD, three within the town limits and one more rural school, sited halfway between Fielding and the unincorporated hamlet of Rosedale.  "The other option was to close one of those, so this was probably the more palatable choice."

"That's – wow."

"Wow indeed," Mrs. McVeigh had echoed. 

But it was, she'd explained, also an opportunity for the Jericho Independent School District to shore up their own enrollment numbers.  Fielding Middle School absorbed students from a number of smaller towns which still had independent primary schools.  Those students often lived closer to Jericho than to Fielding, and while they had always been eligible to enroll at Jericho Elementary – and then Jericho High – this hadn't always been an attractive option to some, or even most, families.  Some parents, though, would likely balk at sending their seventh and eighth graders to high school, or at least this was Superintendent Moore's assumption.  He was taking that argument to the JISD school board meeting that evening, along with the proposal to begin offering school bus routes between Cedar Run, Sandy Mush, and four other nearby towns and Jericho Elementary.  And of course, families that opted for Jericho Elementary for their children's middle school years, would probably choose Jericho High to complete their secondary education. 

"That would be good for us, right?" Heather had suggested.  "I mean our enrollment also hasn't exactly been growing.  I actually thought you were getting ready to tell me about layoffs when you called me in last week," she'd admitted, chuckling nervously.  "I was worried enough that I called Jake—" 

Heather's cell phone, now sitting on the corner of her desk, vibrated.  She silenced it quickly, prompting her boss to guess, "Speaking of?"

"Probably," the younger woman had admitted.  "But it could also be one of my brothers, someone from my family, anyway."

"Well, I'm sorry we have to do this today, but let's try to get it done, and you on your way, okay?"  Heather had nodded in agreement.  "And just so you know, I would hate it if I had to lay anyone off," Mrs. McVeigh had sighed, exhaling deeply.  "It really is the worst part of the job.  But I promise you, I would do a heckuva lot to avoid laying you off.  Heather, you are the best candidate to replace me when I retire," she'd declared.  "And that's not so far away.  If it came down to it, I would ask some of the retirement eligible teachers to consider doing so, rather than letting you go."

"That's what Jake said you'd do.  When he was trying to convince me not to worry."

"He's no dummy," the principal had smiled.  "I knew that Edna was contemplating retirement, and then she told me yesterday morning that this was the year.  I would love to wish her well and then take her out to dinner to celebrate.  Even though the whole reason she's waited so long to announce is to avoid anything resembling a retirement party," she'd chuckled ruefully.  "But if things go as planned, we may need to hire two or three additional teachers, I wouldn't want that to be four."

"I can understand that," Heather had acknowledged a beat later.

"We'd have to spend the entire summer interviewing, and we'd be lucky to find four good candidates before school started.  I interviewed – well, Edna, Donna and I interviewed – seventeen or eighteen candidates, including you obviously, for your position," Mrs. McVeigh had reminded.  "We interviewed ten or twelve candidates when we hired Amber.  And for Gina, it was, what?  At least fifteen."

Heather, who had participated in both those interview panels, had nodded her agreement.  "That sounds right."

"Maybe we get away with thirty or thirty-five interviews for three positions.  We might even be able to peel a teacher or two off of Fielding Middle, but I have my doubts," Mrs. McVeigh had confessed.  "Any teacher willing to teach in the middle grades isn't gonna be afraid of going up to high school."

"And if they're willing to go down to elementary school, there are four in Fielding CSD, so they're probably not going to come here," Heather had reasoned.

"That's my thinking," the principal had confirmed.  "And who knows how things will turn out?  I just think next year might get even more bumpy without Edna.  Amber's still finding her way, and I think we need a strong teacher in sixth grade that Amber can turn to if she needs to.  I know she comes to you sometimes, but that could change once your vice principal.  It likely needs to change, given everything that will be on your plate."

"That makes sense.  And suddenly, this is just so daunting.  Of course, it was always a little daunting."

"One of the things I'm counting on is that you're hard to scare.  And, I know that you and Edna clashed when you first got here—"

"We did," Heather had said, frowning.  "But I know she's a good teacher.  And I've learned a lot from her over the last few years," she'd conceded.  "She knows her stuff and nothing ever phases her."

"Very true," Mrs. McVeigh had confirmed, "And, between you, me and the lamppost, I found her a little intimidating when I first got here.  I'm not saying that's how you—"

"Oh, I was totally intimidated," Heather had interjected.  "And then I vehemently disagreed with how she was handling Bonnie, and we just got off on the wrong foot."  She'd worried her lip for a few seconds before asking, "She really wants me to agree that she should stay?  I mean, I'm happy to tell her that.  And I'd mean it.  Everything you said makes sense, and she's a good teacher.  But I – I'm just surprised that my opinion matters to her."

"She wants to retire," the older woman had sighed, "But this school – this community – is important to her, too.  She's given it forty years of her life.  And, yes, your opinion most definitely matters."

"Okay," Heather had nodded.  "So where are we going?  Her classroom?"

"She's waiting for us in the office," Mrs. McVeigh had explained.  "So, grab your things.  We'll get this matter settled, and then you can talk to Jake and go to your birthday dinner."

"Thanks," the younger woman had breathed.  "I – I feel like I should be attending the school board meeting—"

"No," the principal had denied immediately.  "I can represent for both of us, at least for tonight.  What you should do is go celebrate your birthday.  So, let's get to the office, we can get things squared away with Edna, plus you can pick up your delivery and be on your way."

"Roses?"

"Yes," Mrs. McVeigh had smiled.  "And that's all you'll get from me.  You deserve to walk in and experience the full effect.  But I will say that Harriet has been enjoying them all day."

Heather had gathered her things, which today consisted only of her purse and her tote bag, plus a coffee travel mug that she'd locked closed before dropping into the tote bag.  The two women were out in the hallway – Heather had just locked her classroom's door – when her phone had vibrated again, indicating another call.  Her head swimming, she unclipped it from her purse's strap and thumbed the decline button for the third time, sending a silent 'I'm sorry, Jake' heavenward. 

"I'm sorry that this all had to happen today," Mrs. McVeigh apologized as they started down the hallway toward the main office.  "And sorry you had to hang up on Jake again."

"It's okay.  We were hoping to talk at two, but we both knew that might not be possible," Heather returned.  "Though, Jake's looking forward to me having free time this summer so we can talk more often, and that's maybe not gonna work out if we're going to be doing interviews."

"The job reqs have to be posted for thirty days' minimum," the principal reminded.  "We may have applications before then, but we probably won't be doing interviews until the last week of June at the earliest."

Frowning, Heather had pulled the older woman to a stop.  "I'm – I'm gonna be out of town July sixth through the twenty-third.  We're going to Hawaii for our anniversary."

"Well, we'll find a way to make that work," Mrs. McVeigh promised. 

"Plus, I was thinking of going to Buffalo after that.  Mikey – Mike – leaves for medical school the first weekend in August, so I was gonna go spend some time with him and my dad, maybe help move him to New Haven," Heather told her boss.  "Plus, Jake thinks I'll be able to teach our goddaughter to call him 'Uncle Cowboy Jake' while I'm there," she laughed halfheartedly.  "She's only six months old, so that's basically impossible, but I didn't have the heart to explain that to him."

"Do you have any pictures of Jake in a cowboy hat, or with a horse?" the principal asked.

"Not in a cowboy hat.  He thinks he looks like a dork in a cowboy hat.  I've only seen him wear one once – to make our nieces and nephew happy – and I was not allowed to take pictures while he was wearing it," Heather giggled.  "But plenty of pictures with him and horses, though he doesn't like me taking those either."

"So, he really is 'Uncle Cowboy Jake'," Mrs. McVeigh smiled. 

"Yeah, he's a really good uncle," the younger woman agreed, also smiling.

"And does he look like a dork?" Mrs. McVeigh inquired. "In a cowboy hat?"

"No, of course not.  But I'm also probably not the most reliable arbiter of that," Heather reminded, giggling.  "I always think he looks pretty great," she said as the resumed their walk to the office. 

"And I'm sure he'd say the same thing about you," the Mrs. McVeigh teased.  "You two are reliably adorable.  My advice: take a couple of pictures of Jake with you – at least one of which is with a horse – and show them to her, like flashcards, and just say expressively, 'this is your Uncle Cowboy Jake'," she suggested.  "It'll never work, but you'll have fun."

"I actually would enjoy that.  That and getting to babysit, which I bet my brother and sister-in-law would be happy to take advantage of."

"No doubt," the older woman confirmed.  "Would you be able to be back in town by the Tuesday after you deliver Mike to med school?"

Heather nodded vigorously.  "I will make that happen," she promised.  "Thank you!"

"…. takes me back twenty years.  They were always the most detailed on the math tests and quizzes," Mrs. Walker chuckled, just as Heather and Mrs. McVeigh entered the office.

"That's exactly how I felt when Harriet had me take a look at that drawing, Edna," Mrs. McVeigh laughed.  "Though, I usually saw them on history tests."  She glanced at Heather.  "Back then, we had our sixth, seventh, and eighth grades changing classes in blocks during the afternoon.  So, I had three years of discussion with Jake about why Mrs. Simpson was not his preferred instructor for history."

"So, I should be grateful that Mrs. Simpson retired before I got here," Heather guessed.

"Probably," Mrs. Walker answered, offering Heather a tentative smile.  "She thought he was a good student.  So, did I.  A challenge to have in class three years in a row for math.  I tried to send him over to the high school for algebra in the eighth grade, just to get him in a class that was a match for his abilities, but it was a no-go," she explained, shaking her head.  "But I became very familiar with those airplanes."

"That's not important now," Mrs. Crenshaw, the school secretary, insisted, her voice brimming with excitement.  She was standing behind the counter that bisected the school's main office.  "Not when you're here for your delivery, Heather," she announced, gesturing at the large and tasteful arrangement of roses that sat, prominently displayed in the center of the counter.  Mrs. Walker, on the opposite side of the counter with Heather and Mrs. McVeigh, took a step back to allow the younger woman a better view of her flowers.

"Wow," Heather exhaled softly.  "I kinda expected this – flowers – but I didn't expect… that."

"Three dozen roses," Mrs. Crenshaw supplied.  "Eighteen red, nine yellow, nine white.  Heather, Jake's sent you some beautiful bouquets over the years, but this… this is the loveliest."

"Yeah, it really is," Heather murmured.  Now on top of a swimming head, she had a pounding heart. 

Jake tended to stick to sending her red roses – "we both know what those mean," he always teased her – so she had to wonder at this.  Was he trying to send a message?  Or was he simply mixing things up – sending a larger than normal bouquet because he was feeling guilty about missing her birthday? 

He could be sending a message, she knew.  When she'd graduated from her master's program, he'd given her two dozen red roses (and a weekend in San Diego), telling her that when he'd googled 'rose color for graduation' the answer had come back two ways: red for congratulations and respect, or a recommendation to go with school colors.  The University of Kansas colors were crimson and blue, and Jake had said that he was pretty sure she considered blue roses to be unnatural and would not have been impressed.  Red roses, he'd complained in jest, meant pretty much everything.  "So, congratulations, babe," he'd said, finally handing her the bouquet.  "You're amazing.  That's what the first dozen's for.  Second dozen's because I love you.  Completely."

She didn't think he'd send her different colored roses without checking the meaning, but what meaning was he trying to communicate by this?  Yellow roses meant joy, delight, and friendship, she recalled from her quiz bowl days.  That made them a good flower to give to someone on their birthday, and it was her birthday.  Maybe that was why he'd sent them?  But the hopeful part of her brain – of her heart – whispered: the promise of new beginnings.  Could – could he possibly be saying … that?

"I know all the rose colors are supposed to mean different things," Mrs. Crenshaw exclaimed, startling Heather out of her inner discourse.  "But I only know what red means.  Still, they sure are beautiful."

"Yellow means friendship," Heather said, her voice sounding stronger and much more at ease than she was actually feeling in that moment.  Which was true – she and Jake were great friends, but also so much more.  But friendship, that she was willing to share with this particular audience.  "Also, joy," she added.  "And 'Happy Birthday', basically.  Or sort of.  It's a good color for a birthday, I mean.  Plus, red and yellow together mean happiness and excitement," she recalled.

And that was good enough, she decided.  That was great.  If she let herself think it was anything more than that, then she was projecting her own desires onto Jake, which wasn't fair, she reminded herself.  If Jake had picked these colors because he wanted to wish her a 'Happy Birthday' and to tell her he loved her, that was fine by her.  If he'd chosen this combination of colors to express his happiness in their marriage, even better.  She would take it.  That's all it had to be.  He loved her, as much as she loved him.

"So, what do red and yellow and white all together mean?" Mrs. Crenshaw inquired.

"Oh, uh, nothing.  Nothing that I've ever read anyway," Heather admitted.  "Red and white together mean unity.  That's why they show up so much for engagements and weddings.  For everything else, it's just a combination of the meanings of the individual colors."

"Well, togetherness – unity – happiness, and excitement is not the worst coded message to get from your husband," Mrs. Walker declared. 

"Don't forget love," Mrs. Crenshaw interjected. 

"Togetherness, happiness, excitement, and love.  That totally works for me," Heather decided, smiling. 

"That would work for any of us, I'm sure," Mrs. McVeigh offered.  "And I promised Heather that we'd make this quick because it's her birthday," she continued, "And she's already hung up on Jake three times—" hastily amending her statement to, "Well, now four," as they all watched Heather flip open her phone and decline a call.  "So, shall we adjourn to my office?"

"In order to keep this short, I'm willing to have the discussion here," Mrs. Walker announced.  "That also saves Harriet the trouble of having to get a report out of one of us later," she reasoned, throwing the secretary a knowing smile.  "Is that all right with you, Heather?"

"Of course, Mrs. – Edna," the younger woman returned, clearly startled.

"I'm fairly certain that is the first time you've addressed me by my given name," Mrs. Walker observed, catching – and holding – Heather's gaze.  "It's about time.  You are going to be our fearless vice principal."

"Definitely the first time," Heather confirmed.  "And I don't know about fearless, but I will try to do my best."  This time she caught herself before she could begin to say 'Mrs.', and so it was a beat before she said, "Edna, I know we got off on the wrong foot five years—"

"And that was my fault," Mrs. Walker interrupted.  "We wanted some new blood – new ideas – around here, but we weren't completely prepared for what that meant.  You didn't know how things had always been done," she teased – Edna Walker was teasing her! Heather could hardly believe it – "And we didn't always welcome your perspective.  Or I didn't."

"And for my part, I was in a bit of a rough patch," Mrs. Walker continued.  "There are just times in your life when nothing seems to go right.  I won't patronize you by saying you wouldn't understand.  I suspect you might.  But I was in such a patch," she repeated.  "That year was the first time I was ready to announce my retirement, and Sandy wouldn't let me do it then, either," she said, glaring benignly at the principal.  "I have to admit, I didn't do right by Bonnie Richmond, and that has always been to my great shame."

"I should have been a little less…."  Heather paused a moment, pursing her lips as she considered her word choice.  She really didn't want to say 'disgusted'.

"Passionate?" Mrs. Crenshaw supplied helpfully just as Heather settled on – and announced – "Incensed."

"Certainly passionate," Mrs. Walker confirmed, nodding at the secretary.  "And you had every right to be incensed," she added, meeting Heather's gaze.  "And then some.  But in the end, it worked out for the best, I think.  You have no idea how glad I was that you offered to have Bonnie come help in your class," she confessed, "And not just because it relieved some of my guilt.  I will always feel bad about how things went.  But she bloomed under your direction and care, and gained so much confidence as your 'teaching assistant'," she sighed, offering Heather a small smile.  "I'm still embarrassed about how I handled things, and I will always be grateful that you found such a perfect solution."

"Well, thank you for that," Heather returned, allowing an uneasy chuckle.  "I wasn't being completely selfless though. I mean, I thought it might be good for Bonnie, but it was good for me and for my class, too.  Classes," she reminded.  "I was a little sad for myself when she graduated to the High School and I had to handle spelling lessons all by myself."

"And, it just occurred to me that that means next year's class will be my last class that will arrive in the sixth grade all knowing how to finger spell," Mrs. Walker said, shaking her head.  "Which honestly, is both good and bad.  You've armed a certain cohort of children with a very useful skill.  Also, with the ability to secretly communicate whenever their teacher's back is turned."  She wagged a finger and Heather, mock-scolding, "Mrs. Green—"

"Heather, please!" the younger woman reminded.  "And I'm sorry for that?"

"Are you sure about that?" Mrs. Walker laughed.

"I am.  I obviously didn't fully think through how my having Bonnie teach the third grade to finger spell as part of them learning how to spell in general might impact their future teachers," Heather admitted.  "I should have considered that." 

"Honestly, it's more good than bad," Mrs. McVeigh insisted.  "Since they have to learn to spell in order to use their secret communication skill."

"Agreed," Mrs. Walker returned, shrugging.

Heather took a deep breath and, facing the older teacher, asked, "Edna, would you be willing to postpone your retirement for now?  I think we really need you on our staff next year.  You're a great teacher, and we're going to need your wealth of experience and guidance.  I'm gonna need your experience and guidance."

"Yes," Mrs. Walker agreed immediately.  "I may only stay for a year, but I will stay.  And…"  She paused a moment.  "I hope you know, Heather, that I wanted your agreement, not so you would ask me to stay – though I appreciate that – but just so you would know that we won't be working at cross-purposes.  I wanted to know, and I wanted you to know, that we'll be working together for the good of the students."

"Definitely," Heather returned enthusiastically.  "That's exactly what I want, too.  So, thank you," she finished, smiling at the older woman and holding out her hand.

Mrs. Walker nodded, accepting and shaking Heather's hand.  "Well then, it looks like you can cancel that dinner, Sandy," she said, glancing at the principal.  "But the next time I decide to retire—"

"We will wish you well and not try to change your mind, I swear," Mrs. McVeigh promised.

"Third time will definitely be the charm," Heather added.  "I am a big believer in things like that."  The cell phone in her hand vibrated again, and she once again flipped it open and declined the call.  "I think—"

"Heather, don't take this the wrong way," Mrs. McVeigh ordered.  "But you're dismissed for the day, got it?"

"Got it," the younger woman replied.

"Happy Birthday!  And I'll catch you up on everything from the board meeting tonight tomorrow after school if you're available."

"I will be there.  Or here.  I'll come here," Heather assured.  "Right after the last bell."

She turned toward the counter to retrieve her bouquet just as Mrs. Crenshaw turned it so she could see the white envelope taped to the vase.  "It comes with a letter," the secretary announced.  "A love letter no doubt."

A rosy blush immediately suffused Heather's cheeks.  "I can only hope I'm so lucky," she claimed, reaching for the envelope and peeling it off the vase.  She recognized the drawing of a Cessna that was taped to the envelope, along with a cutout of her own name, written in her husband's bold script.  "Now I get why you were all talking about Jake's airplane drawings," she giggled, absently tracing her finger over the words lettered on the banner the plane was towing: Happy Birthday, Babe!

"After he went to the high school, I missed those drawings," Mrs. Walker admitted.  The three older women all watched as Heather clipped her phone to her purse strap and then unsealed the envelope.  "He was drawing me a different plane each time and labelling it.  It was quite the education."

"It really was," Mrs. McVeigh agreed, laughing.

Heather, smiling and with half an ear on the conversation, extracted the single page from the envelope.  She took a half step back and began to read.

Heather –

What's taking us so long?   You want a kid.  I want a kid.  Specifically I want OUR kid.  That's a decision right?  Yes we should talk about it.  But 10 years from now I bet we'll still be talking about it.  Because we like talking to each other.  And we'll have kids that we'll probably need to talk about.

We should also do something about it. 

Emitting a startled squeak, Heather quickly thrusted the letter back into its envelope and then shoved the envelope into her tote bag.  There was more to read, but she knew she couldn't read it here in the school office.  She liked and respected each of these women, but this – this was private.  Wide-eyed, she announced, "I need to go," before stepping around Mrs. McVeigh, headed for the exit.

"Heather!" the three other women exclaimed in unison, Mrs. Walker adding helpfully, "Your flowers, dear."

"Oh. Right," she muttered, turning back around and stalking to the counter.  She reached for the vase just as Mrs. Crenshaw lifted a cardboard box onto the countertop.

"They were delivered in this, and Kenny Edwards left it for you," the secretary explained, helping Heather place the vase snugly in the padded box.  "Apparently, Jake specifically requested it."

"Well, that's because he knows me," Heather murmured.

"So, it was definitely a love letter," Mrs. Crenshaw guessed, beaming at the younger woman.

"I think so – I hope so," Heather sighed.  She lifted the vase in its carrier – the box had built-in handles – and offered the other woman an excited grin.  "Thanks, Mrs. C."

"Of course," Mrs. Crenshaw replied.  "Happy Birthday, Heather."

The three older women remained silent until Heather had hurried out of the office.

"So, what do you think it said?" Mrs. Walker inquired of the other two women.

"Whatever it said, I think it made her very happy," Mrs. McVeigh suggested.

Mrs. Crenshaw nodded.  "That's for sure."

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 8.

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. 

The Thoms' are Gail and Johnston's next-door neighbors in the Different Circumstances universe.  Marilyn Thom is a good friend of Gail's, and she makes a famous chocolate chip Bundt cake that is delicious enough that Jake contemplates offering to mow her lawn in repayment after he snags the last two pieces for Heather and himself in Different Circumstances Part 3B.  Peter Thom is a close enough friend that he was selected to be one of Johnston's advocates during Jericho's mayoral election as described in Different Circumstances Part 11C.  Wendy Thom (Marilyn and Peter's daughter) was Eric's date to the junior prom as discussed by the Greens at the very first Green Family Sunday Dinner that Jake brought Heather to (Different Circumstances Part 5D). 

Roma Italia (literally Rome Italy) is Jericho's one and only Italian restaurant (in the Different Circumstances universe anyway), and is one of the two best restaurants in Jericho (the other is The Jericho Grille).  Roma Italia is where Stanley took Heather on there one and only date (see Different Circumstances Part 3A) and is where Jake suggested he and Heather go on their first date after The Jericho Grille had suffered a kitchen fire.  Heather turned him down, and they went to The Pizza Garden instead (see Different Circumstances Parts 4A and 4B).

Secret Squirrel is a cartoon character created by Hanna-Barbera in the 1960's.  The phrase "Secret Squirrel Stuff" is used by people working in US intelligence agencies to jokingly refer highly classified materials, usually to give a non-answer to a question.  This is how Heather is using the phrase.  Although Jake isn't necessarily dealing with highly classified material, I maintain that he's adjacent enough to have picked up the phrase for himself, and clearly he's passed it on to Heather sometime in the five years of their relationship.

Heather's phobia of dairy products that don't require refrigeration is actually canon, though she tells Emily in episode #8, Rogue River, that she no longer has this phobia, thanks to processed cheese products.  I actually somewhat share Heather's phobia – or something like it.  Hence, the Heather of Different Circumstances is highly suspicious of mayonnaise packets as documented here and in Different Circumstances Part 8B.

The Del Coronado a.k.a. "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.  It's a very beautiful and fancy hotel with a storied history (that I think would appeal to both Jake and Heather) and is considered to be a world-renowned resort. 

There are a number of constants in the Different Circumstances universe:  Heather is a coffee addict; Jake is a peanut butter fiend; EJ Green is the vice and virtue squad; and, Jake brings or send Heather flowers.  He brought them to her on their first date (Different Circumstances Part 4A), he sent them to her (red roses! underlined three times) the first time he had to go to Denver for work (Different Circumstances Part 6A), then brought them to her when he came home from Denver early, right before Thanksgiving (Different Circumstances Part 10A).  When Heather came home from Buffalo after they had said their "I love yous" for the first time, Jake met her at the airport with a bouquet of red roses (Different Circumstances Part 11E).  And Jake brought Heather red and white roses to congratulate her on her Jericho directorial debut of A Christmas Carol (Different Circumstances Part 12D).  That was the first time we learned that Heather knows all the rose color meanings, and that Eric does not give April flowers ever.   He is later harassed into doing so, and he managed to do it at least once, when he surprised her with her dream house (Different Circumstances Part 12F).

The conflict between Heather and Mrs. Walker over Bonnie Richmond was first described in Different Circumstances, Part 3A.  This is also where we learn of both Stanley's and Jake's antipathy for her (though it turns out that Mrs. Walker likes them just fine).  Really, Stanley and Jake just thought she was old when she was their teacher, and they think she's way old in the present of Different Circumstances (circa 2006 – 2007).