The Greens of Jericho

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Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 9

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 450 pages and 11 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

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

Warnings:

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 nine hours ahead of Denver), 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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From: Johnston Green (personal)

Sent: Tue Jun 06 14:32 (UTC-5)

To: Jake Green (personal)

Subject: RE: Returning the favor

Attachments:

 Jake,

I'm sorry, Son.

I spoke/wrote out of turn.  I should not have accused you of neglecting your wife.  I know you love Heather.

We had a good time today at Field Day.  Heather's class raised a hundred caterpillars to butterflies and released them to kick things off.  It was quite the sight.  The softball tournament went well, and Heather's class won so that was a good ending to the events of the day.  She told us that she'd taught all those kids so that made her even prouder of them. 

When I hugged Heather goodbye this afternoon she saw fit to tell me that the two of you are great, and that I don't need to worry about you.  That's easier said than done.  I've always worried about you and your brother and that extends to Heather and April too.  So, I am going to worry about you, Jake, as long as you're not home. 

Still, I'm sorry for my previous email.  Dads worry about their kids, that's just the way it is. 

Dad

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Tuesday June 6, 3:41 pm (Jericho KS) / Tuesday June 6, 4:41 pm (Buffalo NY)

3 and a half months before the bombs

Heather had just exited the school parking lot, turning right onto Fifth Street, when her cell phone trilled out her Buffalo ringtone.  She breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately felt guilty about it.  But the truth was, the end of her conversation with Jake had rattled her.  She loved him, she knew he loved her, and she was excited to think about starting their family.  And she hadn't thought anything of it when he'd joked about her brother decking him; she didn't love it, but her brothers were still quite protective of her and that meant that even now, even though they all claimed to like each other, there was a certain amount of posturing that took place whenever she and Jake were with her older siblings.  Reluctantly, Heather had gotten used to that.  But this was different.  Jake had implied that her father would prefer them to be divorced.  It had to be part of his cover story.  But he'd also always told her that the trick to a good cover was to stick to the truth when you could.  So, was there a part of him that didn't like her father or her family?  Did he really think they resented his place in her life? 

The Trailblazer's Bluetooth picked up the call, the ringtone broadcasting through the car's speaker system and yanking Heather from her brooding.  She'd think about – deal with – all that later.  She thumbed the button on the steering wheel, answering the call.  "Hi Andy," she greeted brightly.  "Sorry for ignoring you earlier."

There was laughter – a woman's laugh – on the other end of the connection.  "Add an 'M', Heather.  It's Mandy, not Andy," her sister-in-law declared. 

"And me!" a younger voice – Heather identified it as belonging to her nine-years-old-next-month niece, Alison – declared indignantly.  This was followed by another "And me!" chirped by five-year-old Hannah.

"Well, hi there, 'me', 'me', and Mandy!" Heather giggled.

"Auntie Heather, we're not 'Mimi', we're Ali and Hannah," the older girl protested.

"So sorry for the confusion," their aunt apologized immediately, though her tone was teasing.  "Hi Ali-Cat, hi Hannah-Banana."

"Okay, girls," Mandy signaled her daughters, "On three.  One.  Two.  Three!"  Together, Heather's sister-in-law and nieces launched into a fast-paced rendition of the Birthday Song.

"Thank you!  You guys did that way better than your dad, and way-way-way better than Uncle Mikey." 

"Well, to be fair, that's not hard," Mandy joked.  "And we accept your apology, because it wasn't Andy, it was our call that you ignored earlier."

Heather groaned softly.  "I'm sorry I ignored you, but Jake and I—"

"Liar!" Mandy accused, chuckling quietly.  "I figured that out about fifteen seconds into trying to beep through.  I don't mind stomping everyone else in the family, but you should always ignore us if you get the chance to talk to him," she sympathized.  "At least for the duration.  Does he know when he's coming home yet?"

"No," Heather admitted frowning to herself.  She was trying – had been trying for the better part of two months – to not be selfish and to not burden Jake with just how much she was missing him.  And she refused to admit too much about how she was feeling to her father or brothers either.  But her sisters-in-law were a different story.  They were as protective of her as anyone, but they also were much more likely to subscribe to her line of thinking: Jake wasn't the bad guy in this story; it was simply the situation – the temporary situation – they found themselves in that was less than ideal.  "But we're going to Hawaii for our anniversary, so there's that."

"Lucky!" Mandy declared.

"Mom, we should tell Daddy we wanna go to Hawaii, too," Ali suggested.

"Yeah, we'll just join Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake for their anniversary," Mandy teased.

"Uhh—"

"Don't worry, Heather.  I wouldn't do that to you because I love you," her sister-in-law assured.  "And your brother wouldn't do that because he also loves you.  Plus, I won't let him.  And he's cheap."

"I love you guys too," Heather laughed.  "And we're all at least a little cheap in our own unique ways because we're all related to Dad."

"Aint that the truth," Mandy grumbled.  "It still amazes me that Tommy agreed to go back out to Jericho for Thanksgiving right after we'd just been there for your wedding.  We bought plane tickets twice in one year," she recalled.  "Of course, Hannah was a lap child, so it was only three tickets, but it was still twice.  I really can't believe that happened."

"It happened.  And that was so much fun, having you guys and Dad and Mikey come to Thanksgiving with us."

"It was fun.  And that's how you know Tommy loves you.  He won't always say it, but he loves it when he gets to hang out with you.  I hope you know that."

"You know Tommy was just sad he had to fly, not drive," Heather argued, ignoring the rest of her sister-in-law's claim.  "You know that Lisinskis like to road trip, Mandy," she reminded.  "It's part of us all being motorheads."

"And the Greens—"

"Also road trip," Heather insisted, "Just that there are also times we fly places.  Like to islands with beaches.  Because we really like islands with beaches."  

"Fine," Mandy chuckled.  "But I'm still gonna be a little jealous."  She paused for a beat, then asked, "So Heth, do you have five, ten minutes to talk?"

"I do.  I'm in the car, headed home."  Heather glanced toward the right, knowing that she was about to pass the sign marking the town line.  "Just exited the town limits, so I have five minutes, almost ten." she offered.  "And we can talk after I get there.  I just have to meet a delivery sometime in the next forty, forty-five minutes."

"Cool," her sister-in-law sighed.  "And that means, girls, you can go watch Nickelodeon, okay?  Tell Auntie Heather goodbye, please." 

The two little girls bid their aunt goodbye, Ali tacking on a "Happy Birthday!" that was then parroted by her younger sister.  Heather and Mandy listened as the two struggled to hang up the phone they were sharing, but finally there was a definite cessation of noise and they both knew the girls were no longer on the line.

"So, what are we gonna talk about that you don't want Ali and Hannah hearing?" Heather inquired.

"Nothing specific, really," Mandy countered.  "Well, unless you want to expound upon what it is you're doing when you're on those island beaches with Jake," she teased.  "I probably don't want my kids listening in on that."

"On the beach?" Heather retorted.  "Well, mostly we just lay around in a cabana or under an umbrella."  'Holding hands.  Maybe some kissing,' she added silently.  "And you know, talking and reading spy novels.  And maybe having a drink, something light to eat," she claimed.  "Maybe some other stuff."

"Other food or other stuff, Heth?" her sister-in-law giggled.  "C'mon, I'm an old, married lady with kids.  I like to live vicariously sometimes."

"Buy a romance novel then," Heather suggested, emitting an annoyed sound.  "Because that's all I'm sayin'."

"I bet you're both half-naked, huh?"

"We tend to wear less clothing at the beach than we do most other places," she answered.

"So, I'm taking that as a big, fat 'yes'," Mandy laughed.  "And I bet you help each other with your sunscreen, right?"

Heather allowed a put-upon groan before finally saying, "Jake hardly ever uses sunscreen."  This was somewhat true, though he usually asked her to return the favor after he'd applied sunscreen to her back, and she was always more than happy to oblige.  "I'm pretty sure he's never had a sunburn in his life."

"But you have," Mandy reminded. 

Heather knew they were both recalling the worst sunburn of her life, the summer she had turned fifteen, the first year she'd served as a day camp counselor.  Her duties had included chaperoning the end of session daylong field trip to the lake.  She'd been so concentrated on keeping track of her campers and keeping the sunscreen slathered on each of them, that she had completely forgotten to reapply her own.  The sun had reflected off the lake all day, and she'd been completely wiped out – and had looked it – by the time she'd made it home that evening.  Her mother had sent her straight to bed.  Still, the next morning, Heather had been feverish and nauseous and about as red as a boiled lobster. 

This had been a week before Heather's oldest brother, Andy's wedding, and Renate Lisinski had immediately begun to fret over whether Heather would recover in time to fulfill her obligations as a junior bridesmaid.  Luckily for Heather, Mandy – not yet engaged to Tommy – had heard about her plight and had insisted that they stop by the Lisinski house to check on Heather before they headed to the drive-in for the evening.  The week before she had read an article about the healing powers of tannins found in black tea, and she'd suggested they give it a try.  In the end, Mandy had spent over an hour applying tea bags to Heather's back to help remove the heat, pain, and sting. 

"Uh, yeah, we both know that," Heather grumbled.  "Sometimes I think I could get a sunburn from a lightbulb.  But, hey, that just means I can ask Jake to reapply the sunscreen on my back every hour on the hour, so there's that."

"And I'm sure it's such a chore for him," her sister-in-law teased.  "Probably hates that ten, fifteen minutes he has to take out of every hour to rub sunscreen on you.  All that touching.  Must be awful."

"Hafta say, I don't think he really minds," Heather returned, sounding rather smug. 

"Pretty sure you're right."

"But Mandy, if you still need some vicarious living, you're just gonna hafta buy that romance novel," Heather informed her.  "Or hey, don't live vicariously.  Convince Tommy that he needs to take you to a beach somewhere for your anniversary.  The tenth is a big deal."  Their wedding anniversary was three and a half months away, at the end of September.  "Then you can rub sunscreen on each other."

"I'll be back in school by then," Mandy reminded, sighing deeply.  "For the first time in a decade.  And it's what I want to do – I really wanna do this, Heather, I can't even explain it.  But I'm gonna need to concentrate on the school part of it all.  On just going to class and doing all the reading and writing papers.  It's gonna be a lotta work."

"It's gonna be.  But it's gonna be worth it, too," her sister-in-law encouraged.

"I hope so," Mandy murmured.  They were both silent for a long moment before finally she exhaled a frustrated breath, starting again.  "So, you know Heth… I did tell the girls to go watch Nickelodeon in case maybe I needed to say something – or maybe you needed to say something – and that something was something we didn't want getting back to Tommy."

"So, you need to complain about my brother to me?" Heather questioned rhetorically.  "Okay, go for it."

"I just don't know what's going on with him," Mandy moaned. "With us."

Heather made a sympathetic noise.  "Okay."

"It's like we've hit the 'marriage: finding that special someone you want to irritate for the rest of your life' phase of things.  And we can't stop irritating each other.  Like today," Mandy continued, "I called him at two-forty-five for our daily check-in like always."

"Right," Heather acknowledged.  Tommy had been promoted from producer to on-air host at the sports radio station where he worked the week before Alison had been born. As a result, aside from being present at his daughter's birth, he hadn't been able to take time off to spend with his wife and new baby.  But he'd started to phone Mandy every day at two-forty-five, fifteen minutes before his show started, to get the update on everything their baby girl had done in the three and a half hours since he'd left them. 

"I always thought that was so sweet," she told her sister-in-law.  "Way sweeter than I expected from any of my brothers, let alone Tommy."

"It was – it is sweet.  But now it's more of a habit than anything," Mandy admitted.  "All about logistics.  What am I supposed to do, what's he supposed to do.  Most of the time, he doesn't even say 'I love you'.  I try to.  But half the time he hangs up before I can get it out."

"You know that Tommy loves you, Mandy."

"Loves to tick me off, too," her sister-in-law retorted.  "Like today when we talked, I told him that he should come straight home after work, that I had already gotten the milk that he'd said he'd pick up, because it's your birthday and we needed to call you.  And he told me that he'd already called you and acted like it was no big deal," she complained.  "He actually said, 'Mand, she's my sister' like that meant he could just cut us all out.  So, I was irritated," she declared, "Especially for the girls.  So, we just called you without him."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Heather soothed.  "Mandy, I was glad to hear from Tommy – of course I was – he's my brother.  But you're my sister too, and Ali and Hannah are my nieces, and I love all of you.  Honestly, I was irritated that he called without you.  So, I'm really glad you called."

"Thanks," Mandy murmured.  "And I just – well, it's really important to me that the girls have you as a role model, is all.  Whatever else happens, I want them to know that they can do anything.  And you're the family example of 'can do anything'."

"I don't know about that, " the younger woman protested.  "You're the girls' first and best role model, not me."

"I'm one of their role models, sure," Mandy had agreed.  "But still, I'm always telling the girls when we can't figure something out, that we just need to think like Auntie Heather, and then we'll have the right answer."

"Hardly," Heather retorted.  "I mean, maybe if you're helping Ali with her math homework," she suggested, before joking, "But if you're trying to figure out a recipe and you start thinking like me, you're doomed."

"Well, if it is a math homework issue, we just call you, you know that," Mandy chuckled.  "I'm not torturing my brain with trying to figure out how to explain math to my third grader.  Or passing on my math phobia.  And if it's a cooking problem – no offense – I call my mom or Deb."

"No offense taken!" Heather declared.  "I'd call Deb too.  Or Gail," she added softly.  "My eating habits horrify her, but still.  She taught me how to make her meatloaf last week and we had a lot of fun."

"That's good.  And I highly recommend getting along with your mother-in-law."

"Me too," Heather echoed.  "But Mandy.  What's with 'whatever else happens'? You're kinda freaking me out."

"Well, I'm not saying that, Heather," her sister-in-law grumbled.  "And I'm not saying that I don't love Tommy.  I love him," she repeated.  "But sometimes he can be a real…."

"Irritation?"

"I was gonna say 'jerk'," Mandy confessed before emitting an aggravated groan.  "I'm sorry," she apologized with her next breath.  "I know this is completely not fair to you, especially on your birthday."

"It's okay," Heather comforted her sister-in-law.  "I mean, on Sunday, I was pretty irritated with Tommy myself.  On your behalf.  In fact, I sent him an email telling him to shape up and that he needs to stop being a jerk and find his supportive husband hat.  I think it's really great that you're gonna get your M.S.W., and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," Mandy repeated, exhaling a shaky breath. 

"I told Jake about it too," Heather added, slowing the vehicle so she could turn off Route Nine and onto the Green Ranch Road.  "And he also thinks it's great that you want to make a career out of helping people.   He said Tommy needs to get on board."

"You and Jake agreeing on something, like that's a surprise," Mandy teased.

"We don't agree on everything, you know.  We have lots of 'spirited discussions'," Heather offered, recalling the words she'd used a few nights ago when she had spoken to Jake.  "Trust me, if we agreed on everything, it would not be four months since we were last in the same place."

"Well, that sucks, for sure."

"It really does," Heather muttered.  "But he likes his job, and you know, it's not forever. Probably just another year or two," she confided without elaborating.  They had always said that when they had kids, he'd find something to do "closer to home", and now the terms of his grandfather's will were hanging over him as well, ticking down the five years Gramps had given Jake to make up his mind.

"Really?  So, if he quits his job, what's he gonna do instead?" Mandy wanted to know.

Heather had confided some details of EJ Green's bequest to his son and grandsons to her family, but not everything.  The Lisinskis knew that Gramps had left them the ranch house and a portion of the land, but aside from sharing her delight over having inherited the chickens, she'd been vague about the rest.  "He's got some options – the ranch, and he's still a pilot, so we'll see," she sighed. 

"So, are you two finally gonna have a baby?" Mandy asked, her voice lilting.  "You guys have been married an awful long time, you know.  It's about time – past time."

"You sound like Mikey," Heather protested.  "And we haven't been married that long."

"Four years!  You could've had three kids by now."

"Says the woman who left four years between her kids," Heather retorted.

"More like three and a half years."

"Well, three kids in four years is still crazy, Mandy," her sister-in law complained.  "Maybe three kids in seven or eight years," she suggested.  "Besides, we're doing this – approaching this," she corrected quickly, "The way we always planned.  I got my Master's, I just got the promotion to vice principal, and now we're gonna talk about it.  See what we're ready for." 

Heather frowned to herself.  She wasn't quite ready to talk about their choice to begin trying to have – to make – a baby with any of her family.  The decision was too new.  Too precious and too fledgling to subject to the rough and tumble scrutiny of the Lisinski clan.  Not yet.  She loved them all, but she wasn't ready to share this wonderful new thing with them, particularly her brothers, and she didn't think Mandy would be able to keep this piece of news to herself. 

"'I'm gonna tell you exactly what I told Mikey, like two hours ago," Heather offered.  "When to have kids is something I'm only going to discuss with my husband.  Nobody else gets a vote.  Just him and me.  But the good news is, it's topic number one for Hawaii.  For discussion in Hawaii."

"That's progress at least," Mandy decided.  "But you might want to do a little more than discuss it.  I'd had both my kids before I turned twenty-seven, Heth."

"So, that's official?" the younger woman inquired, more than happy to turn the tables on Mandy and steer the conversation away from her own plans and back to her sister-in-law's.  "You guys aren't gonna go for the third?  You're done?"

"Heather, we've been done since about two days into my twenty-three days of being nine months pregnant with full body hives," Mandy groaned.  "I can't – if I had to do that again, I'd be dead."

"No, I remember," Heather assured her.  Mandy had come down with a truly horrid case of "pregnancy rash" three weeks before Hannah had been born.  Heather herself had been in her last semester of college, including student teaching in an inner-city public school and helping her father care for her mother, who – although they hadn't known it at the time – had been in the last months of life, as her body had stopped tolerating the dialysis that had kept her alive for three years.  Still, Heather had found the time to spend a couple of afternoons with Mandy, trying to keep her from scratching herself raw, trying to keep her spirits up as she'd waited to reach the thirty-seven-week mark at which her doctor had been willing to induce her.  "I get – I get why you wouldn't want to go through that another time."

"As soon as they said it could happen again – well, I just can't," she repeated. "And, yeah, it took your brother a little while longer to come to grips with the fact that he's never gonna get his boy, at least not with me—"

"Mandy!" Heather scolded, "Tommy's not gonna go off – run off with—"

"Well, duh.  I know that," her sister-in-law interrupted.  "And he's certainly not gonna do it now.  He got snipped last year, so you know, that's that." 

"Okay.  Wow. That's news to me.  Good news, but still news."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself, okay?" Mandy requested.  "I know your dad doesn't know.  And I'd bet that Andy and John don't know.  I figured if he was gonna tell anyone, it would be you or Mikey.  But since he didn't, just don't tell him I told you, okay?"

"I won't ever let him know I know," Heather promised, "Though I am going to be secretly proud of him for doing it."

"He really didn't want to," Mandy snorted.  "He even threatened to go to confession and basically throw me under the bus to a priest, but I just told him if he was that concerned about following church teachings so strictly, we could just not have sex for ten or fifteen years since I'm really not open to bringing another child into the world."

"That gave him some perspective, I bet," Heather chuckled. 

"Yeah, pretty much," Mandy mumbled, before taking a deep breath.  "And that's the crazy thing," she said a moment later, exhaling.  "Ultimately he took not getting to have a son better than he's taking me going back to school.  I mean, he's had longer to get used to the idea, I guess.  But still."

"We're all a little stuck in our ways," Heather suggested. "This is maybe, Tommy being a little stuck in his ways," she reasoned.  "Like, you're gonna go meet all these new people…."

"I meet new people all the time through Catholic Charities," she reminded.  "And he was never bothered by that.  Not that he has any reason to be.  Each new family I help just reminds me how lucky I am.  I mean, Tommy may be literally incapable of putting the toilet seat down, but he isn't on drugs, and he's not lookin' at porn twenty-four/seven—"

"I hope he's not looking at porn at all," Heather protested.  "That – that—"

"He's not, Heth, I promise," Mandy interrupted.  "That's what I'm saying.  He's not the husband of the twenty-three-year-old with two kids I helped write her first ever resume last week.  Which is the only reason I even mentioned it.  I've been thinking about her ever since, and how lucky I am by comparison," she repeated.  "Because that's not Tommy.  Yes, he can be inconsiderate.  But he can also be really sweet.  And he's not abusive – not mean.  He's – he's like a saint, compared to all the things I hear about at work."

"Well, that's a relief.  And Saint Tommy of Buffalo?"  Heather joked as she brought the Trailblazer to a stop on the circular driveway in front of the ranch house.  "That really does not compute.  And you do realize that there are things you don't know about my brother.  Just little things," she assured a beat later, realizing belatedly how bad her first statement sounded.  "But still," she continued, putting the car into park, and leaving the engine on so they could continue their conversation over Bluetooth.  "There are things you don't know."

"Well, I know about the whole teaching you to swear for like three minutes straight when you were a kid thing, if that's what you mean," Mandy informed her sister-in-law. 

"Really?  How?"

"When we went to our pre-Cana classes, one of the nights, they just sent us off to talk to one another with a list of questions we could choose from to ask each other.  So, I asked Tommy 'what's the worst thing you've ever done?'  And he told me about that."

"Jeez, that seems like a great pre-marital exercise," Heather grumbled.  "I mean, what do they do if you ask a question, and you don't like the answer and end up calling off the wedding?" 

"Better to call it off before than after, right?" Mandy contended.  "I mean nobody in our class broke off their engagement, and there were, like, ten couples," she estimated.  "And as far as I know there's only been one divorce outta that group."

"Sounds like your class was successful at least," Heather offered absently.  "And you know before we got married, we agreed that I am never allowed to tell Jake Tommy's hundred-fifty-seven words.  That's how many words there were.  Not unique words, but you know, total words."

"So, do you still know all the words or just the count?  Because Tommy was really hoping you'd blocked it out."

"Burned into my brain, actually.  But it wasn't until I was in high school that I wrote it all out and counted.  Then I tore it up, flushed the pieces down the toilet, and went to confession," Heather admitted, groaning. 

"Well, I don't know why he thought you would've blocked it out," Mandy scoffed.  "He told me that whole reason he taught it to you was because you'd helped John memorize something he needed to recite for school, and you ended up doing it better than him when your mom made you both recite it for the whole family?"

"That's true.  I was way better than John," Heather agreed breezily.  "But I like doing that sort of thing."

"And Tommy knows he took advantage of that – of you," his wife sighed.  "He told me that he only tried it because he knew he could get you to do it.  That it would be easy for you to memorize, and he thought it would be funny.  But he always knew it was wrong. Like really wrong.  That's why it was the worst thing he'd ever done."

"I thought it was the same thing.  I should've figured out that it wasn't.  He wanted me to say it for his friends.  That should've clued me in."

"You were eight, right?  That's pretty young," Mandy argued.  "I don't think Ali would realize what was going on.  Not that that will ever happen with her, or Tommy Lisinski is absolutely dead," she threatened.

"Eight and one week.  Which means – actually – next week is the nineteenth anniversary of the incident," Heather realized.  "But I really thought it was just like memorizing The Beatitudes.  But it was nothing like that."

Mandy allowed an annoyed chuckle that quickly gave way to a groan.  "My husband," she mumbled.  "He did not tell me that part."

"I wonder why?" her sister-in-law snorted.  "I'm just glad that when I told Dad I had learned a new speech from Tommy, he didn't call Mom in to hear it, too," she laughed softly. 

"Yeah, you'd just told him Tommy had taught you something.  Of course, he was suspicious."

"Well anyway, Tommy knows I still know it.  After Ali was born – after she was starting to talk, really – he asked me if I remembered that," she explained, "And when I said yes, he told me to never teach them to her because you'd kill him."

"I would," her sister-in-law confirmed emphatically.  "And then that would be the worst thing I'd ever done, and I'd have to confess it.  Plus, I'd end up in jail and the girls would be orphans and that's just too much drama.  So, in the interest of family harmony, please don't tell Ali.  Or Hannah.  Or me, or – apparently – Jake."

"He's afraid he might not be able to kiss me after he heard me say all that."

"I really would've thought that Jake was made of sterner stuff than that," Mandy chuckled, "But okay." 

"He is," Heather declared, "But why risk it, right?"

"Right."

"And just because I know it, doesn't mean I like knowing it," Heather muttered.  "But I guess, blessed are the little sisters whose older brothers teach them all the curse words in the English language – plus a smattering of the French, German and Spanish ones – for they will be able to hold it over said big brothers' heads for the rest of their lives."

"And that's not blasphemous at all," Mandy complained.  "I am technically an employee of the diocese now, Heth.  Also, really glad that my kids didn't hear you say that."

"Sorry," Heather apologized.  "Okay," she announced a moment later, undoing her seatbelt and retrieving her cell phone from the cupholder.  "I'm home, so I'm switching over to just my cell, and it shouldn't drop the call, but if it does, call me right back, okay?"

"I should let you go," Mandy argued as her sister-in-law reached for her keys.  "I said it would just be ten minutes."

"I can't really do anything else until this delivery gets here," Heather countered, "I want to talk to you.  And maybe we can figure out how to get Tommy to see that this is important to you, and that he should support you, and then that would make you less irritated with Tommy."

"Well, he needs to be less annoyed with me," Mandy complained, "That would go a long way to making me not irritated with him."

"Exactly.  So how do we get him to not be annoyed?  And okay, he's not upset about the people you're gonna meet," Heather summarized, "So what is it about you going back to school that irritates or annoys him?"

"That's the problem.  I actually don't think it's the going back to school part that annoys him.  Sure, he's made some noise about how much it's gonna cost—"

"Lisiniskis are cheap sometimes," Heather reminded, holding the cell phone to her ear with her left hand while she turned the car off with her right.

"But not about education," Mandy returned.  "You'll all – we'll all – drive ten- or fifteen-year-old cars and never go on vacation so we can pay for school.  I mean, your mom worked in the office at Saint Mike's all those years, just to get the tuition discount for all of you.  That's not being cheap, that's being really smart." 

"So, do you guys get a tuition discount now, since you’re working for the diocese?"

"Yeah, but your brother was real quick to point out that the discount and what I’m making now still doesn't cover the costs of my master's program," Mandy told her sister-in-law, making a frustrated noise.

"Well, yeah, grad school is expensive, no matter how you do it," Heather agreed quickly.  

Her own master's program had been expensive enough that she'd considered putting it off for a year or two so she could save up, but Jake had argued against that, and then had refused to let her take out loans either.  It had bothered her initially to just go with Jake's plan that they pay for the program with her salary – it had covered her tuition with a little bit left over, though not quite enough for books, materials, and travel costs – and live off his.  But he'd kept reminding her that they were full-assed married, that they didn't even have a rent payment, and that it wasn't his money or her money, but their money because – had he mentioned? – they were full-assed married. 

"I was lucky enough that we were able to pay as I went," Heather confessed then, "That Jake basically supported me the entire time, so everything I made could go to my tuition."  She groaned softly.  "Please don't tell anybody that, especially Tom—"

"Heather," Mandy interrupted, laughing.  "You do realize that everyone knows that, right?  Not the details, but we assumed.  And – I promise you – the thing that would've made Tommy mad is if Jake hadn't supported you.  You guys are married, you're supposed to support each other, and that includes financially."

"Oh," Heather had muttered, feeling suddenly rather silly.  "Right.  Well," she continued a moment later, "Do you want me to remind Tommy about that?  That you're married and you should support each other?" she asked, "Because I will."

"No," Mandy answered.  "Because I really don't think it's about the money."

"You can always remind him that everything Mom made – as little as that was – went straight to tuition, too.  It was important to her, and she would totally approve of what you're doing," Heather declared.  "Dad, too, I'm sure."

"Oh yeah, your dad has been really supportive.  Everybody has.  Deb says she's my kid taxi for as long as I need," Mandy confided.  "'Cause I'm probably going to need some fill in help for that hour, hour and a half between the end of school and when I can pick the girls up."  She paused for a moment, heaving a long sigh.  "My dad really wasn't sure about me marrying Tommy," she murmured.  "But he knew how your parents were about education, so….  You know he and Mom invited your parents and Tommy over for dinner so he could say in front of everyone that as long as I finished college first, we had his blessing.   And your mom and dad were like 'of course' and so scandalized that my parents had thought they'd support anything else.  So, then I got really brave and told Dad – in front of your parents and Tommy – that he was on the Dean's List, which both shocked and impressed him," she laughed quietly.  "Especially since David and I," she said, naming her younger brother, "Never got anywhere near the Dean's list."

"You do know that Tommy was supposed to be the salutatorian when he graduated Saint Mike's," Heather informed her sister-in-law.  "Mom was so mad that he turned it down, but he didn't want to write a speech—"

"Maybe he didn't want to, but he could've," Mandy interjected.  "He was a Communications major, Heth.  And he talks on the radio for twenty hours a week.  He writes all his own copy, and half of Scott's, too.  He could totally write a speech for high school graduation," she concluded the defense of her husband.

"He totally could," Heather echoed.

"You're not supposed to get me to take his side, you know," Mandy huffed, allowing an annoyed chuckle.  "I'm irritated with him, remember?"

"I'm irritated with him, too," his sister claimed.  "I'm on your side.  But it'd be better if you guys were just not irritated with each other, right?  Though if you just want to complain, feel free."

Mandy was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment before she began slowly.  "I – I think, maybe, he's mad that I'm gonna hafta miss some of our breakfasts," she muttered.  "Which… I don't like it either.  But the only way this works with our schedule is I'm gonna have to take early classes.  And he really didn't start acting like this until I told him that part.  I think – I really think he's mad that this is gonna interrupt our breakfasts."

Heather nodded absently, forgetting for a moment that her sister-in-law couldn't see her.  With her brother's work schedule – he left for the radio station at eleven AM and didn't come home most nights until at least eight – Tommy, Mandy and the girls didn't get to eat dinner together during the week.  So, they had turned that on its head, making breakfast their family time together.  "It's only for a couple of years, right?" she offered, "And probably not every day." 

"Exactly.  Three years, and not every day," Mandy summarized.  "I'm doing the part time program so I still have time for everything else.  I hafta be there in the evening for the girls, so I hafta take morning classes so I still have time to work at the family services center in the afternoons.  It's not like I'm overjoyed that I'm gonna have less time to spend with him and the girls, but I really want to do this, and he knows that."

"He knows you want to do this, sure," Heather agreed.  "But does he know that you're just as disappointed that you're gonna lose that time together?"

"Yeah, of course," Mandy returned immediately.  "I mean, I think he does," she backpedaled a beat later.  "How could he not know that?"

"So, maybe just make sure he knows that," Heather advised.  "And then, maybe point out to Tommy that this is his chance for a little 'daddy/daughters' bonding time.  He already goes with you when you take 'em to school, right?"

"Right," Mandy confirmed.  "And he's pretty much the only dad regular at drop off.  It makes him, like, a rock star with the kids and the other moms," she giggled.  "Which he totally eats up.  Honestly, some of those women flirt with him a little too much.  Like Charlene Elkins.  She needs to back off," she grumbled.

"You'd think the fact that Tommy's related to me would be enough for her to back off," Heather declared, clearly annoyed at this news.  Charlene Elkins was cousins with Mark Metzger and she had made it abundantly clear that she did not like Heather.  "What a – well, I don't wanna resort to one of those hundred-fifty-seven words, so I'll stop there."

"You'd think that fact that Tommy's married to me would give her a clue, too. But don't worry.  I can glare and smile at the same time," Mandy assured her sister-in-law, her tone confident.  "I got it under control."

"Good.  And I really think that's how you need to pitch it to him.  It's a short-term trade off, you'll miss getting that time with him, too, but hey, at least he gets one-on-one – or I guess – one-on-two time with the girls on the mornings you have class," Heather offered.  "You already get that time with them when he's at work, so now he gets it too.  And it's not forever."

"I like that," Mandy murmured.  "I really like that.  Thank you, Heather."

"You're welcome," she replied.  "And tell Tommy he better see it our way, or I'll be mad at him, and then who knows what I'll do."  She fake-coughed, saying, "One-hundred-fifty-seven words," before fake-coughing again.

"Well, he'll take that threat seriously for sure," Mandy predicted, laughing.

"As he should!" Heather proclaimed.  "And Jake always says he's gonna hafta drive our kids to school because he's sure they're gonna take after him and want to sleep in 'til the last minute every morning and won't be ready to leave when I have to.  So, feel free to tell Tommy that," she offered.  "You know how he hates to be outdone by Jake."

"And vice versa," Mandy reminded.  "So, you two really are talkin' about having kids.  And he's not gonna be on the other side of the world either," she surmised, "Not if he's planning to drive 'em to school every day.  Good."

"I told you.  We're discussing it," Heather returned somewhat primly.  "And I know he means it – that he's gonna be home.  Jake always says: 'what's the point of having kids if you're not gonna be around for them?'"

"Good," her sister-in-law repeated.  "You know I love you, Heth.  We all love you, and we just want you to be happy."

"I am happy.  I love Jake, and we're happy.  Together.  Married."

"But you'd be happier if you'd been in the same place at some point in the last four months," Mandy said, earning herself a confirmatory sigh.  "Or for all of the last four months."

"I just – I hope he can come home sometime before the end of the year, that's all," Heather confided.

"That'd be nice.  Because you know, in this family – for right or wrong – we think that the best way to be happy is to find someone you love, marry them, live with them, have some kids, and then annoy and/or irritate them for the rest of your lives."

"Your spouse or your kids?" Heather joked in return. 

"Definitely your spouse," Mandy decided.  "Definitely my spouse anyway.  And your kids, at least when they're teenagers.  Mine are still sweet, so I don't try to irritate them.  Still probably embarrass them sometimes."

"I don't think Mom and Dad really irritated each other that much."

"No, you're right," Mandy agreed, "Though every once in a while, your mom would say 'Joseph' in that one tone of voice, and I swear, you could see your dad's ears perk up like a guard dog's or something." 

"Yeah," Heather acknowledged, smiling to herself.  She could picture it easily in her mind.  "But he always knew exactly what he needed to do then," she recalled.  To Heather, an avid observer of all that went on around her, it had always been clear to her that her parents had communicated on multiple levels, with a look or a touch as much as by the words they said to one another.  Certainly, they had known one another's strengths and weaknesses and had worked to fill in and bolster when the other had needed it.

Heather, too, had tried to conduct herself in marriage as much in her parents' mold as she could.  It helped that she and Jake had agreed early on in their relationship that they didn't "slam doors" in each other's faces; that they could tell each other to go away, but that time apart was just to cool off.  And it didn't take them long to cool off.  They were both slow to anger, at least with each other – and they both agreed, too, that hers was the shorter fuse – so when something did blow up between them it tended to take its time building up and then happened in a flash.  But it was always short-lived, if only because they both hated being at odds and they missed one another when they found themselves unable to communicate, even more than they did when they were physically apart.   

"And I don't think Jake and I irritate one another, not that much anyway," she argued.  "I mean, we don't always agree but…."  She trailed off, unsure of how to explain it in a way that her sister-in-law would understand.  "Well, I miss him too much, so I'm not gonna be annoyed with him when we're finally together."

"Just wait 'til he's dodging diaper duty in a year or two.  Then you'll be annoyed, trust me," Mandy predicted.  "You'd be surprised how easy it is to both love someone and hate their guts at the exact same time."

She loved Tommy and Mandy, but sometimes – a lot of the time – Heather couldn't help but think that they were too cavalier with one another.  She wasn't naïve enough to expect that Jake would never hurt her feelings or that she'd never hurt his – and certainly on occasion they had – but sometimes her brother and sister-in-law seemed to go out of their way to cause conflict.  Heather had never purposely hurt her husband, and she was sure he'd never intentionally hurt her.  She could not say the same about her brother and his wife.

Heather also didn't think Jake was likely to – as Mandy had put it – "dodge diaper duty".  He'd said he was in for "the gross stuff" – and diapers seemed to qualify – along with "the fun stuff" and "the boring stuff", and she trusted him on that.  She trusted him to be honest with her, and to know himself.  And she knew him too, and figured that of the three, "the boring stuff" would actually be the hardest part for him.  Gross he could usually handle. 

"Well, I'm not even mentioning that diapers exist until I'm pregnant," Heather vowed.  That, she suspected, was probably very close to how Mandy had approached the topic with Tommy.  "Which is probably not really fair," she realized, "But—"

"'Fair' has nothing to do with it," Mandy interjected.  "You've already put in about a million times more effort than him just getting through childbirth.  So, it's fair.  It's fair even if he changes every diaper, which I promise you, has never happened in the whole history of mankind."

"Tell me how you really feel, Mand," Heather teased, before allowing a long sigh.  "Like I said, we're talking about it.  Nothing is decided," she lied.

"Well, when you guys do finally decide to go for it, I claim the right to host your Buffalo baby shower," Mandy declared.  "Though I promise to recruit Deb to help me with food.  But I'll clean my house and invite everybody, find something for Tommy to do for the day.  Unless maybe you want a Jack and Jill baby shower?  Or a Jake and Jill shower, if you prefer," she giggled.  "I've never been to a co-ed shower, but it might be fun."

"I dunno, Mandy," Heather replied.  "I can't really picture my brothers – or my husband – at my baby shower, but …."  She was sure that Jake would accompany her to Buffalo so she could attend a baby shower there – and she was just as sure that he'd rather gnaw off his own arm than attend any baby shower, even one thrown in their child's honor.  "Maybe we should find something for all the guys to do together where no one can get hurt," she tried to joke, though really, it just made her think about the end of her last conversation with Jake, and she found herself frowning. 

"If we go co-ed, I'll definitely get Kerry to plan the games," Mandy decided, obviously not having heard a word her sister-in-law had said.

"How about we go traditional, and you still get Kerry to plan the games," Heather argued.  "That sort of thing is her forte.  And you know, slow your roll, okay?  There's no baby to throw a shower for yet.  So, don't jinx it."

"Fine," Mandy returned, her breath huffing slightly.  "We're not jinxing it.  But I still bet that sometime in the next six to eighteen months, I'm gonna be throwing you a shower."

"Okay," Heather sighed.  "Thanks, Mandy."

"And hey!  You went home," her sister-in-law remembered.  "You are still going to dinner with April and Gail, right?"  On their family conference call on Sunday, Joe had asked Heather about her plans for her actual birthday.  April had jumped in then, assuring the Buffalo contingent that all was under control, even alluding to a few surprises that Heather might be unaware of.  "You can't just sit home alone on your birthday, Heth.  It's not right."

"We live eight miles outside town, not eighty," Heather protested.  "It's a ten-minute drive.  I need to meet this delivery and then take a shower.  It was Field Day today, and I'm hot and sweaty, and dressed in shorts and a Jericho Jackalopes polo shirt," she cataloged.  "I'm not going out to dinner on my birthday like that."

"Okay, that's good," Mandy agreed, emitting a relieved sound.  "But, uh – and I know you all think of me as the ditz of the family—"

"Mandy, you're not a ditz," Heather contradicted.  "Don't say that about yourself.  It's not right."

"Well, sometimes I am," she grumbled in return.  "But that's okay, because that means I get to ask questions, and sometimes my questions are the things everyone else is wondering about.  And sometimes not."

"I ask questions too.  Nobody calls me a ditz.  Or at least," Heather frowned again, "I don't think they call me a ditz."

"Nobody calls you a ditz," Mandy told her.  "Sometimes a nerd, but it's said with admiration.  Me, they just call a ditz, no admiration."

"Well, you're not a ditz," Heather countered stubbornly.  "And I prefer the term 'geek'."

"Right.  Sorry about that," Mandy apologized, adding a half second later, "So, can I ask my question?"

"Of course.  Shoot."

"So, the jackalope – is it a real animal or something made up?" her sister-in-law inquired.  "I mean, I know we've talked about this before, but …."

"Oh," Heather responded.  She certainly hadn't expected that question, even from Mandy.  "Uh.  Totally made up."

"Okay.   Then why is a made-up animal the mascot of your school?  And why did you send my kids a jackalope postcard a couple of months ago?"

"Well, to answer your second question first, I sent all the kids jackalope postcards, even Joey and Megan.  I like to send the kids fun and funny postcards," Heather reminded.  She worked hard to maintain a relationship with her nieces and nephews, and while she didn't regret moving to Kansas or falling in love with and marrying Jake, she knew that the biggest tradeoff was the chance to be an involved aunt.  It wasn't exactly easy, but she managed to keep up with her father, brothers and sisters-in-law by phone and email, but with the kids it was a lot harder.  She didn't have that physical presence – weekly or more often – in their lives, so she did things like send them postcards and manila envelopes full of pictures (accompanied by little stories) of things happening at Jericho Elementary and on the ranch.  Heather had even sent her eldest niece, Rebekah, a digital camera for her tenth birthday the previous October, and now she occasionally got pictures of hockey practice and the goings-on at her elementary alma mater, All Saints Catholic School, in return.   

"Just before he left for Afghanistan, Jake needed to go to the truck stop to pick some things up, and I went along with him for dinner.  And they have a tacky little gift shop, including a postcard rack, and I grabbed some jackalope postcards for the kids," she explained.

"You guys go to truck stops?  And why do they have postcards of fake animals?" Mandy wanted to know.

"We don't go to a lot of truck stops, just the one that's near us, and a couple others between here and Lawrence when I was going to my master's classes.  It's quick and the food is good," Heather offered, claiming with her next breath, "Truck stops aren't just for truckers."  It was true that Jake had needed to go to the truck stop to buy a few things he needed to pose as a truck driver, but they had stopped in at the truck stop at least every couple of months to eat, ever since he'd first taken her there ahead of their picnic at Bass Lake.  In fact – in the name of tradition – they always went by the truck stop whenever they were coming or going from Bass Lake for any reason. 

"They're like the travel plazas on the Thruway," Heather continued.  "Places for a pit stop on a long drive.  Travelers and locals use truck stops just like the truckers do.  There're restrooms and a restaurant – honestly the best diner anywhere near here.  And also, our truck stop has a tacky little gift shop area.  But I think most of them do."

"So, they really are like the travel plazas on the Thruway," Mandy decided.

"Totally.  And what else are you gonna put in a tacky little gift shop?  Jackalope postcards."  There had also been a rack of bumper stickers, and she'd spotted one that said: 'If I'd Known Grandchildren Were This Much Fun, I Would Have Had Them First'.  On impulse, she'd purchased three of them, thinking it would be a fun way, sometime in the future, to inform Gail and Johnston that they were going to be grandparents – and her dad that he would be a grandfather again.   

* * *

She had only bothered to check out the gift shop section of the travel store because Jake had needed to try on boots, and he'd assured her that she didn't need to be there for that.  "Go take a look at the books," he'd suggested.  "I know how to buy boots by myself, okay?"

"We're trying to spend time together before you're gone, remember?" she'd reminded him.  "I will have no opinion on your boots because I really don't.  They're boots for work.  Work boots.  You know what you need.  I just wanna hang out with you." 

Heather hadn't bothered to tell him that she'd been checking out the truck stop's one spinning rack of paperback novels a few times a year for going on four years by then, and she was sure the selection hadn't changed.  The rack might have been restocked after the occasional purchase, but it was still mostly a collection of the same old western fiction and detective stories with a smattering of V.C. Andrews titles that had only served to remind Heather of how embarrassed she'd been during her first year in high school to have been sent to Sister Patricia's office when, digging through her bookbag heading into chapel, she'd produced her cousin Jessica's copy of My Sweet Audrina instead of her devotional.

"Babe—"

"Jake," she'd retorted. 

"We've been spending time together," he'd argued.  Which was true.  Jake had interviewed at Ravenwood corporate headquarters in Boulder on December fifteenth and then had driven straight home.  He'd received a phone call with a job offer the next day, accepting right away with – particularly for him – a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm.  After apologizing to Tony for sticking him with the rest of the day's work, Jake had headed back up to the house to email Gretchen with the update and to wait for Heather to get home from school so he could break the news to her.  They had spent every day together – and gone to sleep next to one another every night – since.  It had been one of the longer continuous stretches of togetherness – more than six weeks – of their marriage up to that point. 

She’d even accompanied Jake to Denver for three days when he’d gone to clean out his studio apartment – his crash pad, he’d always called it – the first week of January.  It didn't make sense, he'd argued, to keep paying a thousand dollars in rent each month on a place that he'd spent – maybe – thirty nights at the previous year.  "And once I'm back from this assignment, who knows what I'll be doing," he'd reminded when he'd asked her if she'd wanted to come along. "For now, I'll just stay in a hotel if I hafta be in Denver." 

"You’re giving up the last vestiges of your bachelorhood," she’d teased him, surveying the space and beginning to make a mental shopping list of the cleaning supplies they had needed to purchase forthwith.  Heather had stayed with Jake at the apartment on the rare occasions when she'd joined him in Denver for a few days, and it had always given her a weird, stepping-back-in-time sort of feeling.  She hadn't been sorry to see it go.  "Sure you're ready for that?"

"Full-assed married, Babe," he'd retorted, grinning at her as he'd closed the apartment's door and then had backed her into it so he could kiss her rather thoroughly.  "Don't need any vestiges of bachelorhood," he'd sworn then, kissing the tip of her nose.  "Haven't been a bachelor in a long time, and married-hood is way better anyway."

"We're gonna keep spending time together, until I hafta leave," he'd promised.  "But seriously.  How is watching me try on shoes different from watching paint dry?"

"Probably not much," his wife had agreed.  "But if for some reason you had to watch paint dry, I'd be happy to watch it with you.  So, there's that."

Jake had looked around the small clothing section for the lone attendant who'd gone to retrieve boots for him to try on, and deciding that they were alone enough, had pulled her toward him, brushing her lips with his own.  "As soon as it's my job to watch paint dry, I'm definitely quitting," he muttered against her mouth.  He'd deepened their kiss for a moment, but then – spotting the attendant out of the corner of his eye – he'd reluctantly pulled away.  "You could pick me out somethin' to read on the plane," Jake had suggested, reminding, 'It's, like, thirty hours in the air and in airports to get there."

"Trust me, you don't want a book from that book rack," Heather had told him, frowning gently.  "And I've got a stack of books that you'd like but haven't read yet at home.  You can take 'em all if you want."  She'd stepped out of the way so that the attendant could deposit the four large boxes of boots she'd carried on the floor next to the single chair that demarcated the shoe section from the rest of the clothing department. 

"Well, I can at least pay for all of this if that'd help," she'd offered, pointing at the pile of jeans, T-shirts, and trucker's hats (one with an embroidered horse patch sewn on it, the other printed with the slogan 'Kansas, Flatter Than a Pancake') that Jake had already selected.  This clothing had been sitting on top of a tool kit in a hard, black plastic case that, along with the boots, had been Jake's main objective.  He'd already explained to her that while he wouldn't be responsible for maintaining his own rig on this assignment, only an idiot drove without his own tools, especially into potentially hostile territory.

"Nah, Babe, it's okay," Jake had waved her off as she'd reached for his hats.  "I need to pay for all this with a specific card."

"Right," she'd acknowledged, her tone a little more clipped than she'd intended.  "Sorry," she had apologized, emitting a soft sigh.  "Well then, I'm gonna go look at postcards to send to the nieces and nephews," she'd decided, warning, "But you hafta sign 'em too, okay?"

"You got it.  'Love Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake'," he'd promised.  "And I'll meet you at the restaurant in, like, fifteen minutes."

Heather had been at the restaurant's counter chatting with Annie Turner when Jake had sidled up beside her twelve minutes later.  "Hey, Babe," he'd greeted, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before glancing at the other woman.  "Hey, Annie.  How's it goin'?"

Although Annie had put some distance between herself and Dale and the Greens in recent years, she was usually polite enough to Jake and Heather whenever they showed up at the truck stop, if only because she knew that Jake would leave her a generous tip.  She'd returned his smile.  "Hi Jake," she'd declared, "I was just sayin', it's been a while since I've seen you two in here."

He'd shrugged.  "Well, Heather doesn't hafta go to Lawrence every other week anymore, so we're not gettin' back to town at nine-thirty on Saturday night, starving," he'd told her.  "And, this last year, what I've been workin' on, my schedule's been weird."

"And now you're clothes shopping at the truck stop," Annie had guessed pointing at the giant plastic bag he'd carried in one hand.  (He'd had a grip on the tool case with the other.)

"More work stuff," he'd said, keeping his tone light, almost bored.  "My next assignment's even weirder.  So, speaking of starving, I'm starving," Jake had continued not missing a beat and – more importantly – cutting off the question he could see forming in Annie's expression.  "You, Babe?" he'd asked, turning his head to catch his wife's eye.

"Also starving," Heather had confirmed cheerfully.  "I could eat a horse.  Except.  Ew!  I would never, ever actually eat a horse," she'd declared, grimacing.  "I like horses."

"I also draw the line at horse meat," Jake told her.  "Horses are for riding, not for eating."

Annie had made a face.  "That's definitely not on the menu," she'd informed them, reaching for a pair of menus in the rack at the end of the counter before pausing and shaking her head.  "What am I doing?  You probably don't need these, right?" 

Heather had glanced at her husband, taking the smirk he'd thrown her way as confirmation.  "No, I think we know what we want," she'd giggled.

"Right," Annie had chuckled.  "Well, follow me."  She'd led them to the back of the restaurant where there were generally fewer patrons and where the booths were bigger.  Quickly she pulled a couple of sets of silverware off a table a few feet away from the booth she'd pointed them to.  "You can leave your purchases here, or in the booth with you, whatever works."

Jake had shoved first the plastic bag, then the tool kit into the corner on one side of the booth.  "This works, Annie, thanks."  He'd stayed standing while Heather had seated herself and then had settled into the booth, next to his purchases, facing her.

"Sure.  So, two cheeseburgers with fries—"

"You can just bring a plate of fries, if that's easier," Heather had told her.

"Giant heap of fries, got it," Annie had confirmed, noting this on her order pad.  "And two chocolate shakes."

"And if you want Jake to love you forever, you might wanna sneak a giant spoonful of peanut butter into his shake," his wife had advised the other woman.

"Tryin' to get rid of me, Babe?" Jake had questioned, their gazes locking.  "Because I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to love you forever, and just be good friends with everybody else."

"Well, that's true," she'd smiled, reaching across the table to tangle their fingers together.

"But if you can do that thing with the peanut butter," he'd continued, looking up at their waitress, "That'd be great."

"It's not on the menu, but I can make it happen," Annie had promised.  "Same for you, Heather?"

"Oh yeah," she'd answered, though her eyes had been fixed on her husband.  "Food of the gods, for sure."

"I'll get this right in," Annie had said before heading toward the kitchen, leaving them alone with their nearest neighbors five booths away.

Heather had squeezed his fingers – to make sure she had his attention, he'd guessed – before chuckling, "Thank you for reminding her of my name."

"Yeah," he'd snorted, rolling his eyes.  "When she said 'I was just saying' instead of 'I just said to Heather'… I figured she'd forgotten again.  Sorry about that."

"Who cares?" his wife had asked rhetorically, shrugging off the slight.  "I just know it's important to your mom that we maintain good relations with Annie, for Dale's sake if nothing else.  So that's what I'm gonna do."

"Well, thanks for that," he'd murmured.  "And thanks for the peanut butter mix-in suggestion.  How the hell did I never think of that before?"

"You're goin' to Afghanistan, Jake," she'd grumbled, her tone and expression suddenly pensive.  "I figure the least I can do is make sure you get to eat all your favorite things before you go."

"You've known about this for six weeks, Heather," he'd reminded.  "Seven, really.  We talked about this—"

"I know.  But now it's a week away—"

"Ten days," he'd corrected quietly, trapping her hand between both of his when she'd tried to withdraw it.  He'd raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her wrist.  "We've still got ten days, Babe."

"Ow."

"Sorry," Jake had muttered, relinquishing her hand.  "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," she'd dismissed, shaking her hand as if to rid it of the discomfort he'd inadvertently caused her.  "It just – it hasn't really been real," she'd admitted, planting her hand flat on the table, flexing her fingers for a moment.  "Before now.  Before you had to buy specialty boots."

"They're not that special.  They're just – they're for safety.  I like havin' all my toes."  He'd reached across the table, offering his hand to her.  "Here.  You can twist my arm."

Heather had rolled her eyes at that, but still she'd accepted his hand, cradling it in hers.  "I don't wanna twist your arm, Jake.  And you should have all your toes.  I mean, I'd still love you if you didn't, but I'm all for safety and having all your digits." 

"Thanks, Babe," he'd murmured.

She'd taken a deep breath and then let it out.  "I don't know.  I don't know what it is, exactly," she'd said finally, "But I watch the news and…."    

"Well, maybe don't watch the news for a while," he'd suggested.

"Have you met me, Hon?" Heather had asked, chuckling uncomfortably.

"So, don't watch those parts of the news," Jake had amended.  "Afghanistan's not bad these days," he'd continued, trying to sound reassuring.  "And I'm gonna be on the corporate compound or drivin' my route – routes.  That's it.  Head down.  Doin' a job."

"Doing two jobs, you mean."

"Yeah," he'd agreed.  "But head down, doing my job.  That goes for me and the other Jake Green."

"'The other Jake Green'," she'd repeated, letting the words roll around in her mouth, trying them out. 

"This lets us stay in contact, Heather," he'd reminded.  "It's the only way I'd do it, and you—"

"I agreed," she had completed for him.  "I know.  And I can't go two months without talking to you.  I hafta at least know you're okay, Jake.  I'll go crazy otherwise."

"Me too, Babe."  They had faced one another, both silent.  Heather had started to worry her lower lip, which had been enough to prompt Jake to find his voice.  "I don't hafta go.  I can still pull the plug.  Just give me the word."

"I'm not asking you to do that," she'd complained.  "How much work have you done for this thing?  Have other people done?  Those guys I'd never seen before who dropped off that package this morning?" she'd argued, though the truth was she'd only ever had contact with a handful of Jake's coworkers and had actually met – in person – fewer than that.  "Where're they from?  Denver?  Wichita?"

"Denver," he'd confirmed.  "Gretchen sent 'em." 

"With a 'specific card' for you to use?" she'd asked.  He'd only floated going to the truck stop for dinner at three that afternoon, telling her that he had an errand to run and they might as well get something to eat out of it.

They had made a whirlwind trip to Buffalo the previous weekend – Heather taking a rare day off from teaching school – to be present as Megan's godparents at her baptism.  Kerry had invited all the Greens, and while April and Eric had sent a gift with their regrets, Gail and Johnston had decided to tag along.  Saturday had been both the baptism and Jake's birthday, and while her family and his parents had made a point of celebrating Jake along with Megan – including multiple rounds of singing the Birthday Song to him during the large, open house reception her brother and sister-in-law had thrown in honor of their daughter – Heather had known that it hadn't exactly been his preferred way to spend his birthday. 

"Today's your make-up birthday," she'd told him that morning, trying to convince him to sleep in with her.  He'd indulged her for an hour or so, but then had pulled himself out of bed, declaring that it was time for pancakes.  "No!  Don't go," she'd pouted playfully, surprising him when she'd followed him into their closet where he'd gone to find clothes.

"Go back to bed, Babe.  I'll bring you your pancakes," Jake had proposed, looking back over his shoulder at her as he'd zipped up his jeans. "Seriously.  I'm offering you breakfast in bed…" he'd tempted her.

"Uh uh," Heather had denied again.  She'd moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself into his back.  "I'm coming with you," she'd insisted, her lips skimming his shoulder blade while her fingers had played lightly over his stomach.  "But I'm just gonna watch you make me pancakes," she'd informed him, her voice full of flirtatious promise. 

He'd twisted around to face her, trapping her in a loose embrace.  Recognizing the desire that had lit his eyes, Heather had smiled in return before burrowing her face against his neck and shoulder.  She'd kissed the tender skin she'd found there, slowly working her way up to his earlobe, nipping at it, and pulling a groan from her husband.  "Babe…."

Too soon, she'd pulled away just enough that she could brush her mouth across his lips, breathing, "You still get to do all the work."  She'd taken a half-step back, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed against hers.  "Even if today's your make-up birthday."

A vehicle had arrived outside about forty minutes later, the noise of a car horn shattering the peaceful feeling that had enveloped the ranch on this sleepy, January Saturday morning.  Heather had been refreshing her coffee and had moved to look out the window over the kitchen sink, curious to see what had been going on.  An obviously government issue sedan had been parked on the driveway behind Jake's truck and two young men (younger than her, she'd thought), both dressed in suits, had been standing next to it, waiting expectantly.  "Jake," she'd prompted, looking over her shoulder at him, "I think you have visitors."

Standing at the stove, his back to her, Jake had nodded.  "Yeah.  I knew they'd be here sometime this morning," he'd admitted, flipping his third pancake onto a plate before turning off the flame beneath the griddle.  He'd crossed the kitchen, meeting her just as she'd reseated herself at the table.  "Here," he'd said, depositing the pancake on her plate and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  "You're gonna hafta eat this one for me."

"I've already had three."

"You love pancakes," he'd countered, just as one of his visitors had honked the horn for a second time.  "I've still got batter, I'll eat," he'd promised. "But you should eat that one while it's hot.  I'll be back.  Ten minutes, tops."

"Yeah, they brought the credit card," he'd confirmed, drumming his finger on the edge of the table twice before reaching across the booth for her hand.  "Plus, some other things," he'd continued, lacing their fingers together.  "Brought back your laptop.  All souped up." 

Heather had nodded.  She'd been waiting in the entry for him when he'd come back inside and had watched as he'd ducked into the study to deposit a large, padlocked document pouch and a laptop bag on the desk.  He'd closed the door behind him and had held out his hand to her, pulling her in for a kiss before suggesting that they go finish their breakfast. 

"It's your laptop now, Hon."

"Nah, still just a loan, I swear," he'd contradicted.  "Soon as this job is over, I'm givin' it back."

"Just make sure you come back when this job is over," she'd instructed him.  "That's the important part.  I can live without the laptop; I can't live without you."

"I will," he'd promised, "'Cause I can't live without you either."

She'd squeezed his hand before finally letting it go, prompting, "So, they brought you a credit card for the other Jake Green."

"Yeah," he'd confirmed. "So, uh, the other Jake and his wife, they've pretty much maxed out all their other credit cards, so he got this new one so he could get the things he needed for the job.  That's the story we're building anyway."  He waited a beat before adding, "And he's buyin' dinner tonight, too."

"Should you really do that?" Heather had frowned.

"It's fine, Babe.  It makes everything look real.  Right now," he'd reminded, gesturing at the restaurant around them with his free hand, "We're just as close to New Bern as we are to home, so it makes sense that he'd come here." 

"It does?  How?"  She'd let go of his hand then, holding up her own to gesture 'stop'.  She had closed her eyes.  "If you can't tell me, just tell me you can't tell me."

"You need to know this stuff, Heather.  For later when I'm there and we need to talk.  When we want to talk," he'd corrected himself immediately.  "Every day, when we talk – so we can talk – you need to know the basic outline of the story," he'd paused for a half-second.  "I just – I thought maybe we could have another day or two before we had to get into this."

She had nodded. "Okay.  Makes sense.  So, you know, let me know when you're ready to let me know what I need to know."

"Lotta 'knows' in that sentence, Babe," he'd observed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand.  Jake had raised himself slightly in his seat, glancing around the restaurant, reconfirming that none of the other diners were within hearing distance.  "So, you need to gimme some warning when Annie's headed back this way, okay?" he'd requested.

"Okay."

"He needs to look financially strapped," he'd begun slowly.  "Livin' right on the financial edge.  'Cause someone who's afraid of losing the ranch to foreclosure is someone who's desperate, and someone who's desperate is happy to do anything they can to earn money, whether or not it's strictly legal."

Jake had studied his wife as she'd absorbed this information.  It had been obvious to him that she'd been trying to determine which of her many questions to ask first.  He'd reached across the table for her hand again, holding it in his own and offering her an encouraging smile.

"That's not entrapment?"

"No," he'd snorted, wondering for about two seconds why he'd been surprised by this particular question.  "I'm – my job is to document what's already going on that shouldn't be goin' on."  She'd known that much about his job already – and more – even though they hardly ever talked about it, and never in detail.  "Look.  Entrapment is inducing someone to commit a crime so you can prosecute them for it.  I don't do that.  I'm just there and if someone gets me to help them do something illegal that they were already doing…" he'd shrugged.  "It's not entrapment."

"Okay," she'd said, shaking her head.  She'd understood the – the darker side of his job, she'd decided then, since their first date.  And she'd been at the Prowse trial, which had served to kill any remaining illusions she might have had.  But there were times that Heather still couldn't quite believe that this was what the man she'd married did in his professional life.  "Right."

"Heather," he'd frowned.  "There's – there's just a lotta bad stuff goin' on with this company," he'd told her, frustration and worry blending in his voice.  "We just need to be able to prove it, and this is how we do that.  It's – it's important, Babe.  I swear."

"I get it, Jake," she'd nodded.  "I just—"

"And you don't hafta worry about that part.  The—"

"Jake!" she'd protested, "I'm gonna worry!"

"I know, Babe," he'd soothed, "That's why we're gonna be in contact, okay?  And you don't need to worry about what I'm doing every minute," he'd insisted.  "Because we're gonna call, and email, and you're gonna know I'm okay.  I'm gonna know you're okay.  So then, all you need to know is the cover story."

"Right," she had agreed, exhaling forcefully.  "Okay.  Back to the cover story.  So, the other Jake Green lives in New Bern?  On a ranch?" she'd added, sounding very skeptical about that.  The town of New Bern was an unlucky strip of rust belt surrounded by much more productive farmland – the wheat and corn belts, and a bit of the cattle belt – on all sides. 

"Not exactly in New Bern," he'd returned.  "So outside of town, kinda southeast."  There wasn't a "Green Ranch" in that area, but there was a mid-sized farm – owned by a Florida LLC – that abutted a tract of land named "Green's Corner".  Arranging to use the farm as his supposed address had just been a matter of executing a rather odd lease agreement.  "But his wife is a teacher in New Bern."

"So, I get to still be a teacher.  That's good."

"I'm always married to a teacher," Jake had told her, "Even when I have a completely different name and background.  It makes it easier to remember things.  When the people I'm dealing with ask me about my wife, I can talk about what an amazing teacher she is, how lucky her kids are.  It just makes it easier," he'd repeated, "When I can stick close to the truth.  And that's a truth I like stickin' to."

That had at least drawn a smile from her.  "So, what's my name?  Who's the other Jake Green married to?"

"Heather.  You're Heather," he'd reminded.  "The whole reason I'm goin' in as Jake Green is so we can be in contact, and you can be you."

"Okay," she'd nodded.  "So, what's my last name?"

"Last I checked, it was Green," Jake had grumbled.

"So, the other Jake Green married Heather Lisinski, just like you did."

"Oh," he'd returned, finally understanding what she'd been getting at.  "Almost.  He married Heather Lind."

"'Lind', huh?" Heather had repeated, chuckling softly.  "That's what Annie thought my name was the first time we met.  'Miss Lind'," she'd reminded him.  "If you hadn't made sure to tell her my name this time, she'd've probably gone home tonight and told Dale that 'Jake and Linda' came into the truck stop tonight."

"Probably," he'd agreed, squeezing her hand.  "But he always calls you 'Mrs. Green' anyway."

"I know," she'd agreed, "But he at least knows what my name is."

"And you don't care what Annie Turner can remember, remember?" he'd joked, laughing quietly at the face she'd made.

"I, like, ninety-eight percent don't care," she had claimed, "But there's about two percent of me that's annoyed."

"Well, I'm a hundred percent – a thousand percent – annoyed by it," Jake had offered.  "You're the most memorable person I know, Babe."

"You're a little biased, Hon, but thank you.  And I love you, too."

"Love you, too," he'd echoed before declaring, "Love you more," and earning himself another smile.

"Not actually possible, but okay," she'd teased before squaring her shoulders and launching back into their discussion.  "So, I'm guessing that because of the other Jake Green's financial difficulties, he can't really be married to Heather Lisinski because then it'd be harder for credit reporting and all that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, pretty much," he'd acknowledged.  "They had to give me – give us both – completely different social security numbers.  There is one really shitty credit report out there for the other Jake and Heather Green.  You don't want to be connected with that."

"Probably not," she had agreed.

"And you know, it's…."  He'd paused, not really believing he'd been about to admit this part.  "There needs to be some sort of separation between our life – our real life – and my cover story.  We need uh, like an air gap.  Because I need – I need you to be … not so easy to find," he'd decided finally.  His words had hung between them heavily and he'd watched as his wife's grin had drooped, transforming into a frown.  "We need to be able to communicate.  I hafta be able to talk to you.  But I need you to be safe, too.  It's a balancing act, and 'Lind' is how we make that happen."

"Okay," she'd acknowledged, a hesitant hitch in her voice.  It hadn't been that she hadn't known that, but Jake didn't usually go out of his way to talk about these things.  It had hit Heather again how unusual – and dangerous – this whole situation was.

"So, you know, I picked 'Lind' because I remembered Annie saying it that time," he'd told her, hoping that would be enough to distract her from the fact that there was no air gap for him.  Sure, he had a different SSN, a different driver's license and passport, even – technically – a different name.  But he still had to physically show up.  "Mellie was helping me and she looked it up in some Census database.  Turns out, there's only like two hundred and fifty Lisinskis in the U.S.  Or maybe that's families?  But still, really small, and she freaked out about it.  Me too."

"It's households," Heather had corrected.  "And I'm directly related to at least ten of 'em.  Indirectly?  Probably all of them," she'd decided, her forehead creasing as she'd considered this new data.  "And maybe Mellie looked it up in a Census Bureau database, but it's also public information.  They publish a list of all the surnames in the country by frequency of occurrence," she'd explained.  "'Smith' – of course – occurs the most often, and 'Lisinski' is, like, the seventy-seven-thousandth most common name in the last census.  So, there really aren't that many of us." 

"And you just know all about this."

Heather had offered him a wry smile.  "I stumbled across it on the internet a while back," she'd shrugged, "And it was interesting to me.  One of my favorite government datasets."

"Babe," Jake had begun, laughing softly and leaning in over the table so he could safely brush a kiss across her knuckles.  "I love you and I adore you," he'd declared.  "But the fact that you apparently have multiple favorite government datasets has got to be the geekiest thing you've said to me in at least the last year."

She'd grinned in return, giggling.  "You adore me, huh?  I don't usually get you to admit that."

"Well, I do.  Even if you can't pick your favorite source of government data," he'd snickered.  "Or probably because you can't pick your favorite source of government data."

"Yeah, well, the USGS Geographic Names database is also really cool.  Makes it really hard to pick."

"Right," he'd acknowledged, still chuckling.  "I bet Mellie uses that one, too.  So," he'd continued, sitting back, "Where does 'Green' fall between 'Smith' and 'Lisinski'?"  He'd still been trying to distract her and had known that there was no way she hadn't looked that up specifically.

"Way closer to 'Smith'.  It's thirty-fourth," she'd answered immediately, confirming his assumption.  "Or thirty-seventh.  Something like that.  Definitely in the top forty most common surnames.  There's like four hundred thousand US households headed by someone with the last name of 'Green' per the two thousand census."

"Well, 'Lind' is also pretty high in rank.  Not that high, I don't think, but high enough that Mellie stopped hyperventilating.  So did I," he'd admitted.

"I will resist the urge to look up how many people have the last name 'Lind' in the United States when we get home," she'd promised.  "Okay?"

"And I'll try to remember to tell Mellie to email you the answer," he'd offered.

"Thanks," Heather had murmured.  "Well, I guess since I'm now 'Heather Lind Green' I'm no longer half Polish," she'd reasoned, frowning at the thought.  "Did you also make me an only child?"

"Hey!" he'd cajoled, jiggling her hand and arm, "You can still be half Polish, half German," he'd assured her.  He knew how important her family heritage was to his wife – how much time she'd invested in learning about where she'd come from – and then, more recently, where he'd come from – and there had been no way he'd have taken that away from her, even for a cover story that they'd be able to put behind them in a few months.  "Maybe, just for this story, it's your dad who's German.  Or maybe it's an Ellis Island name change, okay?"

"Okay," she'd nodded, deciding, "Ellis Island name change."

"And you're not an only child.  The only difference is your family's name," he'd assured her.  "You can still talk to me about your brothers.  And you hafta give me updates on Megan.  I know you're the one who's her sponsor and who has to cover all the Catholic stuff, but I made promises too.  And I liked what the priest—"

"Father Bouchard," Heather had supplied.

"Right.  I liked what Father Bouchard said about how we're the people who can support her, and who she can turn to when she feels like she can't talk to her own parents.  That we're supposed to give her 'safe haven'.  I think – everybody should have that somewhere."

"She can't talk yet, Jake," she'd reminded.  "And you're gonna be back before she learns to," she'd sighed.  "You better be, anyway.  But yeah, I liked that too.  That we can be another set of adults that she can turn to her whole life."

"Exactly.  So, you hafta give me updates on Megan, and on everybody else, okay?  Your family is your family," he'd insisted.  "They're just Linds instead of Lisinskis.  And that's just for this assignment."

"I can do that."  She had fallen silent for a few seconds but still had held his gaze with her own.  Finally, she'd asked, "So, is this just a different maiden name and a different social security number, or are there other 'different' things I need to know?"

"Well, you need to know that we got married in Buffalo—"

"Really?"

"The one in Kansas," he'd clarified.  "And the other us – the other Heather and Jake – their anniversary is a week later, so July twentieth.  That's just makes it…."  He'd trailed off, not quite sure how to explain it without putting some new thought in her head that he really hadn't wanted her contemplating.

"Makes it more 'air gapped'," she'd supplied for him, "In case someone does a public records search or something."  He had nodded.  "Did we at least meet the same?"

"Definitely.  I stopped to help the prettiest girl I'd ever seen change a tire and knew pretty much right away that my life would never be the same," he'd grinned.  "That's definitely part of the story."

"That's not exactly how it happened, but okay, we can go with that," Heather had laughed.  "Did you propose the same?"

"Yes and no," Jake had decided after a moment's hesitation.  "I still proposed on the water tower, on New Years' Day—"

"In the snow," she'd added helpfully.

"Right.  In the snow," he'd confirmed.  "But I think we can lose the first proposal where I was stupid and said, 'we should just get married'."

Heather hadn't liked that.  "Uh uh, no way."

"No way?  But that – that just made you sad.  Or mad.  Made you want to leave anyway," he'd muttered.  "You hated that.  Probably hated me right then."

"I never hated you," she had replied, shaking her head softly.  "I always love you.  And I even wanted to say 'yes'.  Just not when you say we should get married two minutes after Gramps yelled at you for 'taking me to bed'.  Especially since you hadn't."

"Well, I mean, technically," he'd shrugged, the tiniest of smirks quirking his lips.  "And then, twelve hours later, you took me to bed."

The lighting in the restaurant had never been great, but still he'd seen the rosy blush that had suffused her cheeks.  "More like thirteen hours," she'd insisted.

"I stand corrected," he'd teased, his smirk growing.  "Thirteen hours later."

"Exactly," his wife had confirmed, reaching for his hand, and lacing their fingers together.  "And you do realize, under pretty much any other circumstances, all you ever had to do was say 'we should get married' and I would have said yes," she'd sighed.  "I mean, I'm glad we got the water tower.  But I was always gonna say yes."

"Then it's good that the first time I managed to find the one time when you wouldn't," Jake had decided, rolling his eyes at himself.  "'Cause I'm glad we got the water tower, too, Babe.  Even if you did giggle the entire walk out there."

"Sorry," Heather had giggled in apology, pulling a soft groan from her husband.  "But both parts of our proposal are important," she'd continued, her tone becoming serious.  "To me anyway.  And they're both part of our story, no matter which Jake and Heather we are."

 "Okay.  Both parts stay in," he'd agreed.

"Thank you.  And tell you what," she'd added conspiratorially a few seconds later, "In about three, three and a half hours, we can take each other to bed.  How 'bout that?"

"You know I'm in," he'd agreed immediately, squeezing her fingers. 

"Jake," she'd said, her voice tightening, giving him just enough time to identify the possibility of a double entendre that he'd absolutely not intended.  But then, under her breath, she'd whispered, "Annie."

Their waitress had appeared at his elbow approximately ten seconds later, though her chatter had reached his ear earlier than that.  "Here are your shakes and your fries," she'd begun, expertly placing a stand next to their booth and depositing a large tray atop it in a single, fluid motion.  "Your burgers'll be out in a few.  Five minutes, tops," she'd assured, transferring first their milkshake glasses, then the metal cylinders with the excess for each of them, to the table.  Finally, she'd placed a platter of french fries in the middle of the table, asking, "You guys want anything besides ketchup for these?"

"Nah, just the ketchup," Jake had denied, grabbing the bottle from the caddy at the end of the table and squirting ketchup over the fries piled on one end of the plate. 

"Don't put that on all of them," Heather had ordered, selecting a fry from the other side of the pile, and then dipping it into her shake.  She'd popped the fry into her mouth, savoring her first taste of the milkshake and then chewing the fry.  "Oh my gosh, the peanut butter was an excellent call, if I do say so myself."

Jake had taken a slug of his own shake, agreeing, "Great call, Babe."

"All set?" Annie had inquired rhetorically, already having collapsed her tray stand.

"Almost," he'd answered, stopping her in her tracks.   "But if you've still got that whole pecan pie up front, can you box it up for us?  To go?"

The waitress had smiled, had told him to consider it done, and then had continued on her way.

"We don't need a pecan pie, too," Heather had argued.  "Especially given our plans for later," she'd reminded him, pitching her voice so low – and sultry – that he'd instinctively leaned in over the table to hear what she'd been saying.

"The pie is to take to Mom and Dad's tomorrow," he'd explained with a shrug.  He'd selected his own ketchup-free fry then, dipping it into his shake.  "Just padding the bill a little more, you know?"  She hadn't said anything, though her expression was eloquent all on its own.  "It's not a scam, Heather.  The other Jake Green's paycheck will cover the bill – all the bills.  We're gonna fill up your gas tank before we leave, too," he'd decided.

"Jake—" 

I'm gonna be doin' his work, Babe, so I think I can spend a little of his money.  And it all builds the cover story.  That make you feel better?"

It had taken a few seconds, but she had nodded, eating another shake-dowsed french fry.  "I guess when you put it that way…."  She'd trailed off, concentrating for a moment on selecting her next fry – a long one – before dunking it into her milkshake.  "But we can just get gas tomorrow."

"Wanna get home, huh?" Jake had teased, grinning at her knowingly.  "And we could get gas tomorrow," he'd continued, his timbre turning thoughtful.  "But I'm not usin' his card in Jericho, any place close to home.  Usin' it here is one thing.  Lots of people pass through here every day.  So…."

"Right," she'd muttered, her gaze concentrated on her lap.  "It's a lot to take in," she'd admitted, looking up to meet his eye.

"I know, Heather," he'd acknowledged, reaching for his own french fry which he'd then dipped into his own shake.  "Maybe we don't talk about this again until tomorrow or the next day."

"Sure," she'd agreed before asking, "Do I need to know my alternate ego's social security number?"

"If you wanna.  I have it," Jake had answered.  "But there's no reason—"

"What about an emergency?" Heather had countered.

"In an emergency, if you can't get me, you call Gretchen," he'd reminded her.  "Same as always.  You're not gonna hafta talk to anyone there.  And you sure as hell don't need to tell 'em your fake SSN.  This whole arrangement is just so we can talk while I'm gone.  I don't need you for that part."

"Okay," she'd returned, a slight edge to her tone.

"I didn't mean it like that," he'd assured her quickly.  "I need you, Heather, you know that.  But I also need to do my job.  And it helps me to do my job when I know you're separate.  I can't – can't have you involved.  Any more involved," he'd amended.

She'd closed her eyes, letting out a long breath before finally looking up and meeting his anxious gaze.  "You want me 'air gapped'."

"Yeah."  They had watched one another for a long ten seconds before he'd added, "I'm actually pretty good at my job, Babe."

"I know," Heather had nodded, exhaling softly.  "Or, so I've heard anyway," she'd grumbled, rolling her eyes.  "Hello, op sec, my old friend."

Jake had selected another "clean" french fry and had dipped it into his shake.  "Here," he'd said holding it out toward her.  "Peace offering."

She had offered him a wan smile, leaning in over the table to allow him to feed the fry to her.  "Accepted," she'd murmured after swallowing.

"Thank you," he'd replied, cupping her chin gently and running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.  "And I'm sorry I forgot to make bacon this morning," he'd continued, slowly withdrawing his hand.

"Hon, you weren't supposed to make pancakes," she'd argued.  "Today was supposed to be your make-up birthday, and we didn't do anything you wanted to do.  Even coming here ended up being for work."

"Wanted to spend the day with you, which is what I did," Jake had shrugged. 

"You watched me grade book reports," she'd returned doubtfully.

"And you read me that total take down of the whole Encyclopedia Brown franchise," he'd joked.  "That was pretty brutal.  Fair," he decided.  "But brutal.  When did eight-year-olds get so smart?"

"Kids know more than most adults realize," Heather had reminded him.  "And Samantha is definitely my best student this year." 

Jake had nodded.  "God, I hope so.  Otherwise, we're doomed." 

"We're not doomed," she'd countered, teasing, "The kids are all right, and they will lead us."

"Okay, Babe," he'd grinned in return.  "But I loved today.  And tomorrow, I'm making bacon to go with the pancakes.  And you hafta stay in bed this time.  Lemme bring 'em to you."

"What is the sudden obsession with bacon?" she had wanted to know.  "And," she'd continued, dunking yet another fry into her milkshake, "I was actually planning to go to the eight o'clock Mass.  Which means you can sleep in, and I'll go by McBee's for doughnuts and bring you breakfast in bed."

"I'm not obsessed," he had countered, "I've just been sittin' here watching you stick fry after fry in your milkshake and it reminded me that you actually like syrup on your bacon more that you like it on your pancakes."

"Everybody likes syrup on their bacon, and I don't like it more, I like it the same.  And you dip your fries into your shake, too."

"I've done it, like, three times, you've done it ten times at least," he'd accused, chuckling.

"Eight at most, and I'm switching to ketchup fries as soon as the burgers get here."

"Uh huh," he had returned, "Sure."  But her expression had clouded over, and Jake had rushed to apologize.  "Babe, I'm sorry.  I'm being a jerk."

"You're not being a jerk," Heather had contradicted, still frowning.  "I'm just…."  But the words – her thought – had drifted away, unspoken.

Jake had stuck another french fry into his shake and the had held it up.  "Peace offering, part two?" he'd offered.

But she'd shaken her head.  "That one's all yours.  You need to catch up," she'd claimed, even as she'd select her next fry from the plate and dipped it into her milkshake.

"Well, can I go to church with you tomorrow?" he'd requested.

"Peace offering two point five?" she'd guessed.  "You don't need to do that, Jake.  And you already went to church with me last weekend.  Twice."

"Not a peace offering, and that was a special occasion."

"It was," his wife had agreed, pasting on a smile that he'd known better than to accept at face value.  "But tomorrow isn't.  I'll be gone an hour and a half.  Little longer, if everyone else in town wants doughnuts tomorrow."

"I wanna spend time with you, Babe.  Makes it a special occasion in my book.  I won't fidget, okay?" he'd promised.  "And we can have breakfast at McBee's after.  Or, hey.  Saint Elizabeth's is like ten minutes from Cedar Run, so we could go there and have giant apple fritters with our breakfast.  Have 'em for breakfast, you pick."

"Jake."

"Heather."

"Okay, if you're sure," she had agreed, her tone tentative.  "But in the morning, if you don't wanna—"

"Babe, I'm goin' with you," he'd declared, interrupting her.  "I want to." 

"Okay," she'd repeated.

"So," he'd continued a half beat later, "You get the postcards?"

"I did," she'd answered, and this time her smile had been true.  "I checked everything out and decided to go with jackalope postcards.  They actually have three different jackalope—"

"You know if you send those, you're gonna hafta explain the jackalope all over again or the kids are gonna think it's real," Jake had predicted, watching as his wife had fished a small paper bag out of her purse.

"I've explained this.  Their parents know," Heather had argued, "And I keep telling you, kids are smarter than you think."

"Yeah, but even I thought the jackalope was real until I was seven, so…. "

"You believed in the legend of the jackalope two years longer than you believed in Santa Claus, huh?" she'd giggled, turning the bag upside down so the postcards had dropped into her hand. 

Well, what's more believable?" he'd asked rhetorically, "A jack rabbit with antlers or—"

The bumper stickers she'd purchased on a lark had slipped out of the bag, too, sliding an inch or so across the table toward Jake.  He'd stopped speaking and had picked one of them up, reading it quickly.  'If I'd Known Grandchildren Were This Much Fun, I Would Have Had Them First'.  He'd looked up and caught his wife's eye.  "Something we need to talk about, Babe?"

They had stared at one another before finally she'd answered, "Nope."

"So, you're not—"

"I'm not," she'd informed him, inhaling deeply.  "And I don't – we're not having this conversation.  Not now." 

"You sure?" he'd asked, countering her stiff tone with one that was gentle and warm.

"I am definitely sure I'm not pregnant, if that's what you mean," Heather had replied.  "And I'm just as sure about not having that particular conversation.  You're leaving town, Jake."  She'd shaken her head, swiping one hand across her suddenly suspiciously bright eyes.  "Leaving town," she'd muttered to herself, looking away.  "You're leaving the country," she'd corrected, her gaze flicking momentarily over him before she again found something interesting to stare at off to her right. "For months.  At least two – probably three, right?  Could even be longer.  So, yes, I am sure we don't need to talk about that."

"Are you telling me not to take this assignment?"

"No.  I'm telling you I'm not ready to talk about this," she had insisted.  "Kids.  Us having them."

"So, what's this then?" he'd inquired, turning the bumper sticker around so she could see.  "Why'd you buy it?"

"This is me, planning ahead," she had answered.  "That's all."  She had reached across the table, plucking the bumper sticker from his fingers before retrieving the two that had still been sitting on the table.  "I just thought that in a year or two or three, when maybe we'd have that kind of news, it'd be a fun way to tell my dad and your parents.  That's all," she'd insisted, returning the three bumper stickers to the bag. 

"Heather—"

"Please, Jake.  I can't.  Right now, I can't."

"Okay," he'd murmured around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.  He'd watched as she'd deposited the paper bag in her purse, and then had picked up the stack of postcards, before holding them out to him.  "But – you do know – there's no way in hell my dad's ever gonna put that on his truck," he'd told her accepting the postcards.  "Now Mom, she'll be all over it."

She'd resisted for a moment but eventually had cracked the tiniest of smiles.  "Yeah, well," she'd sighed, "I wasn't thinking we'd ask.  I thought that we'd go over there, put the bumper stickers on for them, then go into the house and tell them they needed to see something weird out in the driveway.  We'd all walk outside, and they would see," she'd shrugged.  "And know."

"Then Dad accuses me of vandalizing his truck, and Mom screams so loud that the Thoms come running," Jake had predicted.

"Maybe even the Carlisles will hear her," Heather had suggested, something close to a chuckle escaping her.

"Oh, they'll definitely hear her," he'd groaned.  "But I don't think they run anymore."  They were both silent for a beat before he'd murmured, "It's a great plan, Babe." 

"Thanks."

"Heather, you know when you're ready to talk—"

"I know.  And I'll let you know," she'd promised.  "But – just not yet, okay?"

He'd nodded, then had cleared his throat.  "So, there're seven postcards here," he'd informed her, fanning them out so he could quickly confirm his count.  "You do remember that half the kids can't read yet, right?"

"A half hour ago I was feeling a little more ambitious than I am now," Heather had admitted.  "We can just do three, one per household.  And I'm sure I can use the others at school for something.  We are the Jackalopes after all."

"So, we're gonna send a jackalope postcard to one eighty-third of all the Lisinski households in the country.  Got it."

"Now who's being a geek?" she'd accused lightly.

"One point two percent of the Lisinski households will get a jackalope postcard."

"Show off," she'd grumbled, fighting the smile that had teased at the corners of her mouth.

"Like you're not checkin' my math in your head," he'd joked.  "I do know you, Mrs. Green."

"I check everyone's math in my head," she'd shrugged.  "Your math just happens to always be right."

Jake had flashed a rather pleased grin at her, murmuring, "Thanks, Babe.  So," he'd continued, reaching over to pull a bunch of napkins out of the dispenser at the end of the booth.  "You gotta pen you can loan me?"

"I have at least five pens in my purse, Hon.  I think you know that," Heather had said, immediately producing three pens from her handbag.  "Blue or black?"

"Black.  And leave me the bottom righthand quadrant," he'd instructed.  Jake had picked up one of the postcards, propping it against his milkshake glass.  "I'm gonna figure out how to draw a jackalope holding a sign that says: 'Love Auntie Heather and Uncle Jake'."

A genuine smile had bloomed on Heather's face.  "That's perfect."

* * *

"As for the answer to your first question," Heather continued, "Johnston claims credit for the fact that we're the Jericho Elementary Jackalopes, but I dunno.  Sometimes, I can't always tell when he's teasing me."

"He teases you because he likes you, Heth," Mandy told her.  "Same reason his son teases you.  They seem to be a lot alike.  I mean I don't really know Johnston, but that's my impression."

"Well, I hope there's a slight difference in how my husband feels about me and how his father does," Heather returned giggling, "But they really are a lot alike."

"I wasn't saying that," her sister-in-law grumbled.  "Obviously.  Jake loves and adores you—"

"Well, I certainly hope so!"

"And Johnston, he likes you.  He's glad that you're a part of his family," Mandy decided.  "And he's not one of those people that… 'suffers fools gladly'.  That's the phrase, right?"

"That's it," Heather confirmed.  "And I think you're right, though he is the mayor.  He has to suffer at least some fools.  I imagine he bites his tongue a lot."

"Probably.  So how is he responsible for the school mascot being the Jackalopes?"

"Oh.  Well, when they built the high school, they had the students vote on a mascot – they went with 'The Raider', which is like a pirate.  Gramps said that he never liked that mascot because he suspected that the faction in town that proposed it was actually doing so in homage to Quantrill's Raiders.  They were this group of pro-Confederacy guerillas who sacked Lawrence Kansas during the Civil War," Heather explained.  "But they claimed that they were just proposing a pirate as mascot.  Which is what's painted on the back of the gym." 

"Anyway, since the high school got a mascot, the principal of the Elementary thought we – well, it – should have one too.  This was in the late fifties when Johnston was in sixth or seventh grade.  The principal suggested the 'Jericho Jackrabbits', which is cute and alliterative.  I would have gone for that," she admitted.  "But Johnston said that he got to talking to some of the other boys and convinced them to support his idea of the Jackalope instead.  So, they led a grassroots write-in campaign and it won."

"Elementary school mascot to the mayor's office," Mandy laughed, "That's quite the political trajectory."

"I'm pretty sure he was class president all through school, and all student body president, at least at the high school.  And he had some role in the student association at KU.  Not president, but something."

"And you think he was teasing you when he said that's how the Jackalope became the mascot?  It sounds reasonable to me," Mandy offered.

"Well, yeah, that all makes sense," Heather conceded.  "But I think they were teasing me when they told me how the 'legend of the jackalope' came about.  I looked it up later.  There was a guy in Wyoming who had taxidermy skills and made one – like, a mounted head – in the thirties as a joke, and then there is a guy in South Dakota who also makes them to sell.  But Gramps and Johnston – Jake too – all say that the jackalope was 'invented' on a cattle drive.  The cowboys sat around the campfire every night talkin' about this thing they all swore they'd seen at one time or another, building up the lore.  Gramps says the jackalopes favorite drink is whisky because the cowboys' favorite drink is whisky.  And Johnston says that the reason they supposedly can mimic human voices is because when the cowboys would go off to pee, before they came back, they would join in the singing from out in the dark but would deny it up and down when they rejoined the group, and just say 'must've been the jackalope'."

"So, cowboys on a cattle drive are basically a punchy hockey team on a long bus ride," Mandy surmised.

"Pretty much."

"And does Jake have anything to say about the jackalope?"

"Of course.  And that's what I mean, Jake and his dad don't always get along, but they always seem to when they're teasing me about something I don't know because I'm 'from back east' and a 'city girl'," Heather sighed.  "So, they can tease me all they want.  I just like seeing Jake – and Johnston, too – enjoying themselves together, even if it's a little bit at my expense."

"That's because you are a good and nice person," Mandy told her.  "But what does Jake say about the jackalope?"

"He says that they're considered so fierce – like lumberjacks wear stovepipes on their legs to protect them from the jackalope's bite – because cowboys really like to blame the jackalope for the things that have happened to them that would otherwise be embarrassing," Heather described.  "Like they'd say 'Lefty barely survived his meetin' with the jackalope' and then Lefty shows you his hand and he's missing his pinky finger from some cowboying mishap I don't want to know anything about.  And Jake also says that the jackalope was considered so virile because by the end of a cattle drive, the cowboys, uh, tended to only have one thing in mind – or on their minds – once they got back to civilization.  So, they endowed the jackalope with the romantic life they all wanted."

"Well, thank you for not putting that on the postcard you sent my kids," Mandy laughed. 

"Hey, Jake and I know how to aunt and uncle," Heather reminded her sister-in-law.  "Or uncle and aunt."

"You do.  And you're gonna be great at the whole parenting thing, too," Mandy predicted.  "Both of you."

"Thanks," Heather murmured.  "I think so."

"And I really don't think they were giving the jackalope a romantic life, Heth," her sister-in-law giggled, "Just a sex life."

Well, yeah," Heather snickered.  "But that's kinda the cowboy brand."

"Even for 'Cowboy Jake'?"

"Well, Jake would tell you he doesn't have cows," his wife hedged. 

"Uh uh," Mandy contradicted.   "He will always be 'Cowboy Jake' in this family no matter what logical arguments he comes up with."

"Yeah," Heather agreed.  "And he says that too.  That he's 'Uncle Cowboy Jake'.  Even if he doesn't have cows.  But I don't know….  For him – for us, those two lives are just really well blended, okay?  And – and let's leave it at that," she requested, chuckling uncomfortably.

"I'm glad to hear that," Mandy assured her.  "Even though it's basically what I always figured about you guys.  He's just – he's very into you.  And vice versa."

"Yeah," Heather sighed.

"But we'll leave it at that, and I'm gonna change the subject," Mandy announced.  "Back to your birthday.  How's it been?" she asked.  "You and Jake got to talk, so that's great.  Nice long talk?  Maybe a little bit of phone—"

"Mandy!" Heather objected, speaking over her sister-in-law, before breaking into a nervous giggle.  "We do not do that," she insisted.  "We just talk about – about things.  And exactly how was that changing the subject?"

"Hmph," the other woman returned, ignoring the accusation inherent in the question.  "Where exactly is the fun in 'just talking', Heather?"

"It is fun," she defended.  "We like talking to each other.  We've had two really nice, long talks today already.  Like, more than two hours.  And this morning, it was on Skype, so I got to see him, which was really great even though he looks really tired."

"But he still looks hot, right?"

"Well, yeah," Heather conceded, chuckling.  "He always looks hot."

"Good.  That's a relief," Mandy opined. 

"Little weird that my sister-in-law – you know, the person married to my brother – is worried about whether or not my husband is maintaining his hotness," Heather teased.  "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Hey!  I'm just looking out for you," Mandy claimed.  "What would be weird is if you were worrying about your brother maintaining his hotness." 

"That would definitely be weird," Heather agreed.  "I mean, I'm glad you and Deb and Kerry seem to think my brothers are worth reproducing with, but, uh, I really can't see it myself," she joked.

"That's a good thing," Mandy decided, "And while our reproducing days are behind us – maybe not Kerry and John – yours and Jake's are all ahead of you.  So, you know, it couldn't possibly hurt to step up your phone game, Heth.  Especially if he's gonna be gone another six months.  Sounds like major end of the cattle drive conditions to me.  For both of you."

"Oh my God!" Heather shrieked, punctuating her protest with a strangled "Mandy!"  She knew she was blushing – could feel the heat tingling in her face and the rest of her body – and she forced herself to take a calming breath before returning obstinately, "My phone game is fine."

"Just something to consider," her sister-in-law returned calmly.  "Like I said, I'm looking out for you."

"Jake and I, we flirt, we just don't get … graphic, okay?" 

"Okay, that's good," Mandy agreed.  "But I'm just saying that no marriage was ever harmed by a little phone foreplay.  Well, I mean," she amended quickly, "As long as the people on the phone are married to each other."

"Uh, yeah.  That's a very important caveat," Heather harrumphed in return.  She pressed the back of her free hand to first one cheek, then the other, exhaling a long breath.  "And if you must know, we were discussing earlier which pair of my panties are his favorite, so I can make sure I'm wearing them when we meet up in Hawaii.  A month from now," she emphasized.

"Ooh la la!" Mandy tittered.  "Not sure I actually needed to know that, but it was what I was talking about.  Good for you, Heth," she praised.  "Good for Jake, too."

"I actually don't know which ones are his favorite yet," she admitted, her breath whistling softly as she blew it out through pursed lips.  "We got off onto a tangent."  'We're going to make a baby,' she reminded herself, smiling at the thought.  'Just as soon as we can.'  "But we're gonna talk again tonight after dinner, so I'll make sure to get it out of him then.  In fact," she decided, digging through her tote bag on the passenger seat for her notebook, "I'm gonna write that down so I don't forget."

"You're making a list of conversation topics for a phone call with your husband on your birthday?" her sister-in-law asked, her tone incredulous.  "Oh, Heather," she scolded.

"Trust me, Jake will not be surprised.  And I have a few other things we need to not forget to talk about."

"Such as?" Mandy prompted.

"I don't know," Heather grumbled even as she wrote down 'rose color choices – meaning?' right below 'which panties?'.  "Okay.  So.  You probably don't know this, but Jake and I play chess, and he owes me a move.  So, I'm gonna ask him about that."  It was technically a lie – they had already discussed the chess move he owed her – so she didn't add it to her list, instead writing 'Great Dad – not just ok – AMAZING'. 

"Heather, for the love of all that is holy – for yourself, for Jake, for me – please write across the top of your list: 'flirt shamelessly'.  In all caps," Mandy instructed.  "It's your birthday and you should only be asking him about his chess moves if that's code for something else very specific."

'Everyone knows what "make a baby" is code for, Babe,' Heather allowed herself to recall her husband saying – teasing.  'So true, Hon,' she thought in return. 

"Not code for anything," she giggled softly, "Though Jake does claim that one day he'll figure out a set of rules for strip chess, so that's something to look forward to."

"Well, it gives me some hope for you two anyway," her sister-in-law sighed.  "Because I'm telling you, you guys need to get to some baby making."

"Mandy!" Heather chided then.  "We will get to that when we get to that, okay?  And I thought of something else," she informed the other woman after taking yet another calming breath.  "For my list, and that you need to know.  I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I'm gonna come to Buffalo after Hawaii."  She wrote 'Hawaii -> Buffalo -> Jericho' on her list of conversation topics.  "Jake tried to get me to go to Buffalo next week to spend some time with Mikey and the rest of you, and I just didn't do it.  So now, I think I'm gonna come after Hawaii."  She frowned to herself.  "I'm – I don't really want to be with Jake and then go straight home and have him not be there," she confessed.  "I think I need something in between that.  To look forward to."

Her sister-in-law squealed at this news.  "Oh my God, Heth!  Oh, this is so perfect.  And," she decided, pitching her voice sympathetically, "I think it's a really good idea not to torture yourself by going home alone without him.  And we would all love to see you, of course.  Oh!  I'm reserving a day with you right now.  You, me, and the girls.  We're gonna go to lunch, and we can go to your favorite museum—"

"Buffalo Museum of Science," Heather had interjected, not missing a beat.

"I knew you were gonna say that," Mandy giggled. 

"Well, we can always go to the Children's Museum, too," Heather offered.

"How 'bout we go to one or two museums in the morning and shopping in the afternoon," Mandy countered.  "Because that's fun too.  We're definitely spending the day together," she reiterated.  "Just the four of us girls."

"That sounds great," Heather assured her sister-in-law, "We're totally doing that.  And I have another idea, too."  She took a deep breath before continuing.  "Maybe you and Tommy can go away for the weekend – or for two or three days in the middle of the week, whichever you want – and I'll take the girls," she proposed.  "Voila!  You guys get a little bit of an early anniversary trip, and I get quality 'Auntie Heather' time with Ali and Hannah."

"Oh, Heather, if you really mean that…."

"I do.  I mean, I wanna come to hang out with Mikey and help get him to Yale.  But I was also really looking forward to being Auntie Heather for a bit.  And I was kinda thinking specifically about Megan—"

"Well, of course, you're her godmother," Mandy acknowledged.

"But I'm Auntie Heather for all the kids," she reminded, "And I want you and Tommy to get some time alone together.  Heck, maybe I'll make a blanket offer and just babysit all the kids at once," she declared rashly.

"That's seven kids, Heather.  By then, seven months to not quite eleven," Mandy cautioned.  "Maybe you better just offer to babysit one set of kids at a time."

"That's probably a better idea, huh?"

"Yeah.  But if you really do mean it, I'm gonna talk to Tommy tonight," Mandy declared.  "Plus, try and find someplace for us to go, preferably where there are no TVs.  Electricity, sure," she clarified, "I'm not a fanatic.  But if we're gonna go away for a little early anniversary trip, I'd really like it if we didn't immediately sit down to romantic episode of Sports Center."

"So, tell Tommy that," Heather instructed.  "Tell him that I'm babysitting because I want you guys to have a kid-free, sports-free second honeymoon."

"If I tell him 'second honeymoon' he'll listen at least," Mandy reasoned.  "I hope."

"Mandy—"

"It's okay, Heather.  You don't need to worry about this," her sister-in-law dismissed with a sigh.  "Tommy and I… we'll figure it out.  And we will totally take advantage of your babysitting offer to help us figure it out, okay?"

"Okay."

"So," Mandy said, seeming to perk up a bit.  "Is this a fun delivery you're waiting for, or just something you have to sign for, like a tractor part?"

"Why would I be getting a tractor part?" Heather questioned, giggling.  "I don't have a tractor."

"Yeah, but you live on a farm," Mandy argued, laughing herself.  "I've been to your house, and I sure thought you had a tractor.  Well, not you.  But the farm – the ranch.  I saw one – a couple.  And I dunno, those things are expensive, right?  So, their parts would be too," she reasoned.  "So, somebody'd hafta sign for 'em."

"Oh, very," Heather confirmed.  "But those tractors, and combines, and everything else, they don't belong to us – to the ranch.  They belong to the corporation that rents the land from the ranch," she clarified.  "Though, I think I lied.  The ranch does have the Bobcat, which is technically a tractor.  But it's little, nothing like what you're talking about.  And Jake and Tony just use that if they need to move hay or dirt around, clear snow, things like that."

"Well, I know what one of those is.  I've seen those," Mandy said.  "Like on construction sites and stuff."

"Yeah.  Exactly.  And even the Bobcat, they wouldn't ask me to accept a part for it," Heather informed her sister-in-law.  "Tony would do it, or Johnston might if for some reason Tony couldn't.  And if they needed me to do something in an emergency, of course I would, but what do I know about parts for the Bobcat?"

"The only thing that happens around here that we're involved in is the horse business," she continued without waiting for a response.  "Horse breeding to be exact.  And that is still very weird," she confessed, heaving a quiet sigh.  "Johnston and Eric – well, and Stanley," she amended quickly, "They were here this weekend to do horse breeding.  Only they were breaking in a new stud—"

"They really call it that?" Mandy giggled.  "Wow."

"I think so.  Maybe.  I mean it's called stud service for sure.  Like one stud and all the mares he can service in a day," Heather snorted.  "And it was so embarrassing.  For me – not the horse," she groaned.  "Because it was a new horse, and they had to make sure he knew what to do.  So maybe that's not breaking him in, because breaking a horse is what you do so you can ride him.  And Jake called him – the stud – 'unproven' and said he's basically unproven until there are 'foals on the ground'."

"So, like, you, Johnston, Eric and Stanley stood around and watched a horse lose its virginity?" Mandy asked, her tone one of complete disbelief.  "Seriously?  Wow."

"Basically," Heather confirmed, allowing a humorless chuckle.  "Except there were ten of us.  Well, nine of us," she corrected a beat later, after counting everyone up in her head.  "But yeah, I live on a horse ranch, and we don't have a big tractor, just a couple of studs and a ton of broodmares.  With a lotta the land rented out.  And on the rented land, they planted sorghum, like two weeks ago," she offered.  "Johnston handles all of those contracts, but I was curious and asked him what they were planting this year and he said sorghum."

"Okay, I've heard the word before, but what the heck is sorghum?" Mandy wanted to know.

"It's a grain.  Apparently, you can eat it, but it's mostly grown as cattle feed and sometimes turned into ethanol," Heather explained.  "Here at least.  But Johnston said the sorghum they are growing on the ranch this year is for silage.  That means cattle feed."

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Green, for the agricultural lesson," Mandy teased.  "I feel so smart.  And of course, you move to Kansas, like five years ago, and you just figure all this stuff out."

"I don't know about that.  Sometimes, I feel like I have none of it figured out," she admitted. 

"So, now you're just being ridiculous, Heth," Mandy chided.  "You might not be the expert you always expect yourself to be, but that doesn't mean that you know nothing.  You know plenty, and you like living in Kansas, right?"

"I know," her sister-in-law sighed softly.  "And I do.  I really love living here.  And not just because Jake's here either," she insisted, giggling at herself.

"Pretty sure Jake's got something to do with you loving Kansas," Mandy giggled in return.

"Well, yeah, he's got a lot to do with it," Heather conceded.  "I love him, and I want to be wherever he is.  Not when he's working an assignment of course.  But this is where he belongs, so it's where I belong too," she declared. 

Jake, she knew, didn't necessarily agree with her belief that he belonged in Kansas – or more specifically in Jericho and on the Green Ranch – but Heather had long understood this in her very core.  And while she was sure he could probably live anywhere; she also knew that Kansas and Jericho and the Green Ranch were practically encoded in his DNA.  Certainly, she'd learned to love the town and the ranch by experiencing them through his eyes, starting in that first hour they had known one another when he'd taken her see the view from the water tower, pointing out the landmarks that defined the ranch's borders and explaining about how EJ Green had built the stargazing deck as a present for his new bride, Betsy.

"This is just an amazing place to live," Heather said, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.  "And sure, if you'd asked me an hour before I met Jake if I'd still be living in Kansas a year from then, I would have probably told you that there was no way, but—"

"But then you did meet him, and you instantly changed your mind," Mandy decided.  "I mean, that whole thing about how the first night you'd met him, he followed you home and then didn't kiss you, but you really wanted him to?" she reminded her sister-in-law.  "I remember that.  Because it sounded nothing like you and at the same time exactly like you."

"What does that mean?" Heather demanded. "That it was nothing like me but exactly like me.  That doesn't even make sense."

"Just that you were never the 'fall in love one week, totally over it the next week' type.  I mean, I've seen more than one boy flirt with you – David included – and you were always so oblivious," Mandy explained.  "But when you finally fell, you fell hard." 

"David flirted with me?" Heather chuckled.  "When?"  She had known Mandy's younger brother for nearly fifteen years and while he – and she – had always been friendly, she really didn't think any of their occasional and highly superficial conversations could possibly be construed as flirtatious.

"Like I said, oblivious," Mandy groaned.  "And the summer you turned eighteen, every time we all got together, and that was a lot that summer, especially after Ali was born.  But I nipped that in the bud.  He's my brother and I love him, but he's really not good enough for you.  Besides, only one of us gets to marry into the Lisinski family or it's just weird."

"You're crazy," Heather informed her sister-in-law, still laughing.  "But yeah, I think – I know – I fell hard for Jake.  I fell forever for Jake," she confessed, making a contented sound.  "And it was pretty quick too.  Maybe not that first night when he followed me home, but the next day, probably.  Within twenty-seven to thirty hours," she calculated, "Of us meeting."

"So, he got around to kissing you twenty-seven hours after you met," Mandy teased.  "Got it."

"Actually, I kissed him, if you must know.  I kissed him first, I mean," Heather giggled.  "And then he figured he could kiss me, too.  Which, he totally could."

"Oh, really?" Mandy chuckled, sounding rather impressed by this tidbit of information.  "Well, good for you Heth.  And good for Jake," she repeated, "I'm sure."

"But I really do love it here.  The town and the ranch both.  It's so different from home.  Though now, it is home.  It's hard to explain," Heather claimed, even as she continued to expound on her feelings about her adopted home.  "I just know that this is where I belong and where I want my – our – children to grow up." 

"You know, I was kinda shocked when you moved to Kansas too, 'cause that didn't seem like you at first either.  But now it makes sense that you live there.  I still wish you were a little closer to home though.  Well.  To here, I mean," Mandy corrected.

"That is the only problem with Kansas.  It really needs to be a couple of states closer to New York.  Or one.  We need to shove Missouri down, outta the way or something," Heather joked.

"Exactly.  I mean why did they call it Kansas City when it's in Missouri?  I've always been suspicious of that."

"Super sketchy for sure," her sister-in-law confirmed.

"So, your delivery is a fun delivery then?" Mandy inquired a good ten seconds later.  "Since we've established that it's not a tractor part."

"It's a mystery, actually," Heather answered.  "Part of my birthday present from Jake.  Which he didn't need to do," she insisted.  "He already got me a birthday cake for breakfast.  Chocolate Kahlua."

"Birthday cake for breakfast, like the Burkes always do," Mandy surmised.  "And Kerry and John now.  Tommy's so jealous of that, but at least I let him make the craziest pancakes for birthday breakfasts.  Banana and chocolate chip with caramel sauce and canned whipped cream."

"Mandy, that's basically ice cream sundaes made with pancakes instead of ice cream," Heather laughed.  "What does Tommy have to be jealous of?" 

"I know!  Exactly."

"And before today, Jake always made me pancakes for my birthday too," Heather told her sister-in-law. 

She smiled to herself, recalling how surprised she'd been – how loved she'd felt – on her twenty-third birthday – five weeks before their wedding – when she'd woken up at five in the morning to find Jake in her kitchen making pancakes and bacon.  He'd allowed her to get her coffee and then had shooed her back to bed, promising to bring her breakfast to her in a few minutes.

"This is s'posed to be breakfast in bed, Babe," he'd told her, kissing her gently.  "So, you know, go get in bed."

"I could get very used to this," she'd teased, ignoring his order and standing on tiptoe so she could brush her mouth over his. 

"Well, get used to it," Jake had commanded with mock gruffness, his arm snaking around her waist.  He'd held her against him, and they had exchanged one, two, three more kisses before he'd finally put her away from him.  "In bed.  Now." 

"Fine.  I'm goin'," she'd decided, taking a step back, their gazes still locked.  She'd glanced at the stove a moment later, shaking her head at him and grinning.  "Don’t burn those pancakes," she'd instructed.  "Or the bacon.  And bring butter and syrup.  Plenty of syrup.  We need it for the bacon too."

"So bossy," he'd complained jokingly.  "I've got it covered, Babe, promise.  Happy Birthday, Heather.  Love you."

She'd taken a step sideways to retrieve her coffee mug from the counter, then had moved toward him one last time, placing her hand on his chest.  "I'm goin'," she'd repeated, echoing, "Love you too."

"And I love pancakes, of course.  I mean, who doesn't?  But we're gonna do birthday cake for breakfast for all birthdays from here on out because we're so not above stealing the Burkes' tradition and importing it to Kansas."

"Just don't tell your brother about that, please," Mandy requested.  "And what else did he get you?  Besides a trip to Hawaii?"

"Hawaii is for our anniversary, not for my birthday," Heather corrected.  "But he got me a coffee of the week club subscription for a year, and he sent me roses," she listed, "So he really didn't need to get me something else."

"Yeah, but he wanted to, Heth," Mandy argued, "So, you just need to go along with it."

"You sound like Gail," Heather chuckled softly.  "She keeps telling me that he wants me to have 'fun surprises' for my birthday and then really turns on the mom tone of voice to remind me that I want to let him give me 'fun surprises'.  Which is completely true."

"Don't knock the 'mom voice'," Mandy admonished.  "You will be glad you get to have a 'mom voice' one day, trust me.  Also, that you get to say, 'Because I'm your mom, that's why'."

"And now, in five or ten years, when I finally get to say that, I'll think of you, Mandy," Heather promised, chuckling softly before falling silent for a long moment.  "And I think my delivery will be here any moment now," she announced, spotting in the rearview mirror, the cloud of dust rising in the distance over what she knew was the first quarter mile of the Green Ranch Road.  "Whoever this delivery person is, they're really taking the road too fast," she frowned. 

"I should let you go," Mandy decided.  "Happy Birthday, Heather!  I'm so glad we got to talk.  And you hafta email me and tell me what the mystery delivery was."

"We don't hafta hang up yet," Heather contradicted.  "They're not here yet."

"But you're gonna need to sign for it, right?"

"I think so.  Jake just said it was being delivered, and I should be here.  He didn't even say it, just emailed it."  She paused, not really wanting to explain any of the intricacies of her husband's cover story or how she assumed this was going to turn out to be a rather extravagant gift.  "But it's not a delivery van," she informed her sister-in-law, as a car – an expensive looking, foreign-made sedan, not the sort of vehicle that usually made an appearance on the Green Ranch – topped the rise.  "It's just somebody's regular car."

"Do you recognize it?" Mandy questioned.

"Not the car," Heather replied, observing in the mirror as the Mercedes coasted to a stop about ten feet back from her SUV.  "Jake said I'd recognize the delivery person," she continued, popping open her door just as the other driver opened his.  "And I do," she added a few seconds later as both she and the driver exited their vehicles.

"Well, who is it?" Mandy demanded.

"The jeweler we went to for our wedding rings," Heather answered, keeping her voice pitched low as she closed the Trailblazer's door.  "And who resized my engagement ring."

"So, it's jewelry!  Nice!" Mandy acknowledged enthusiastically.  "Now I am gonna let you go, Heth.  But thanks for the talk – for everything, and Happy Birthday.  I love you."

"I didn't do anything," her sister-in-law protested, "Just listened.  And I love you too, Mandy.  Bye," she returned, thumbing the 'End' button on her phone.

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

To be continued in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 10.

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and if you want to know (eventually) how it ends.

Author's Notes (if you're curious….):

When Heather refers to the Thruway to explain truck stops to Mandy, she is referring to the New York State Thruway, a system of controlled-access (or toll) highways covering around 570 miles of New York State.   There are nearly 30 travel plazas along the Thruway that Heather refers to in order to give Mandy an idea about what a truck stop is like.  Personally, I have been to both travel plazas along "The Thruway" and to more than one truck stop (west of the Mississippi) in my life and they have both similarities and differences.  But I figured it was a quick way for Heather to put her sister-in-law at ease about the fact that Heather and Jake go to the truck stop every once in a while.

V.C. Andrews was an American novelist, known for writing novels that combined gothic horror with family saga.  She died in 1986, a few years before Heather was caught with a copy of her book, My Sweet Audrina, as she headed into chapel (which was likely 1993).  My Sweet Audrina was published in 1982 and is her only stand-alone novel published during her lifetime.  I remember reading the book sometime in the late 80s or early 90s and having now read a summary of it I know that (as I suspected) I blocked a lot of it out.  It is very gothic, full of horror, and quite the family saga.  I remember seeing (early 2000s) V.C. Andrews books in the truck stop that was 2 miles from my previous home, so I assume teenage girls were still reading them when Heather was in high school.   Also, the name "V.C. Andrews" was deemed so lucrative of an asset that the IRS forced her family to include its value in her gross estate.  This has proven true as a ghostwriter has published five times as many novels under her name as she published herself. 

The US Census ranking of surnames is available here: https://www.census.gov/data/developers/data-sets/surnames.2010.html#list-tab-1456661748 for both the 2000 and 2010 censuses.  I've always been fascinated by these files and assume that Heather would be too. 

Jake and Heather both have imperfect recall regarding certain facts found in this data.  There were 231 Lisinski households in the United States in 2000 (and a rank of 77,222nd most common).  By the 2010 census the number of Lisinski households had dropped to 221 (with a rank of 84,748th).  Clearly this is not reflective of the Different Circumstances universe where at least the Buffalo Lisinskis keep forming new households.  Or maybe it is reflective of the Jericho universe where the bombs happened… although I don't believe that a 2010 census would have been taken given the … circumstances. (I do know the fate of all the Lisinskis so you will just have to stay tuned to find out.)

The surname Green was 37th in rank in the 2000 census (413,477 households) and 41st in rank in the 2010 census (430,182 households).  Of all our Jericho favorites, only Anderson (rank of 12th), Taylor (rank of 13th) and Clark (rank of 25th) occur more frequently than Green in the U.S. (also Williams [rank of 3rd] and Lewis [rank of 26th]) per the 2000 census.  In fact, Lisinski is such an outlier as far as being selected for a TV character's name, that the nearest least common surname from Jericho is Prowse with a rank of 34,459th and 622 households in the 2000 census.

Finally, the surname of Lind has a rank of 2,316th with 14,302 households (2000 census), which explains both Mellie's and Jake's relief.

The USGS Geographical Names Index is actually the Geographic Names Information System (GNIS) and can be found here: https://www.usgs.gov/tools/geographic-names-information-system-gnis

If you query for "Jericho" in this database (excluding variants) you will learn that there are 94 geographic locations that include "Jericho" in the name in the U.S.  About half of these are populated places and/or "civil" locations.  This includes 2 Towns of Jericho and 1 Village of Jericho.  There are many water features/locations such as Jericho Creek or Jericho Stream.  There are 2 Jericho Canyons, 2 Jericho Hills, 2 Jericho Hollows, and 4 Jericho Mountains.  My favorite "Jericho" place is Walls of Jericho (sounds vaguely familiar 😉), a cliff in Alabama.  Curiously, there are no geographic designations named Jericho in Kansas.  (That can't possibly be true!!  Or at least in my heart this is not so.)

As a non-Catholic, Jake cannot officially be a sponsor for a child being baptized into the Catholic faith. To be named as a sponsor or godparent a person is required to be at least 16 years of age, and a practicing Catholic.  If there is one sponsor, they may be of either sex, or 2 sponsors may be named but they must be one man and one woman.  Godparents must have received the Sacraments of Baptism, Eucharist, and Confirmation. If married, the godparent must be married in the Catholic Church or had their marriage blessed by the Catholic Church. Therefore Heather (in the DC universe) qualifies to be a godparent to her niece, Megan.  Jake, as a baptized non-Catholic, qualifies to be an "official witness".  Technically, since Jake is not religious (I'm going out on a limb and saying that's a fact of both the canon and DC universes), he probably doesn't completely qualify.  However, he was qualified Megan's parents' eyes, and DC Jake is proud to have been named a godparent in spirit, if not in complete accordance with Catholic law.  He certainly intends to fulfill his obligations as Megan's godfather.

When Heather says "Hello op sec, my old friend" she was making a sort of gallows humor joke in homage to the song The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel which was released in 1964.  Heather replaces the word "darkness" in the first line of the song (Hello darkness, my old friend / I've come to talk with you again ….) to express her feelings about operational security or "op sec", which is something that Jake sometimes has had to claim as a reason why he can't discuss his work.

Encyclopedia Brown is a series of 29 children's novels featuring the adventures of boy detective Leroy "Encyclopedia" Brown.  The books were written by Donald J. Sobol, with the first book published in 1969 and the last published in 2012, after Sobol's death.  The structure of an Encyclopedia Brown novel involves the boy detective solving (usually) 10 mysteries based on a logical or factual inconsistency that is revealed to the reader in the text.  (Therefore, the reader could solve the mystery ahead of Encyclopedia Brown.)  The series is a staple of elementary school libraries throughout the U.S., and I've no doubt that the Jericho Elementary School library boasted copies of all 24 Encyclopedia Brown books that had been written by the point at which Heather read to Jake her student's brutal but fair takedown of the franchise.

Cedar Run is mentioned a few times in Jericho canon, though we never get to visit.  Jake spotted the empty prison bus on Cedar Run Road and Gail goes to stay with some mysterious cousins in Cedar Run during Season 2.  In the Different Circumstances universe, Jake's cousin Kevin lives in Cedar Run with his wife Janine and 2 kids, Alex and Zoey.  Also, in the Different Circumstances universe, 2 of the amenities of the small, unincorporated hamlet of Cedar Run are its putt-putt golf course and the giant apple fritters ("as big as a man's head") that are a specialty of the local café.

Quantrill's Raiders were the most notorious of the pro-Confederate partisan guerillas (a.k.a., "bushwhackers") who fought in the American Civil War.  They were led by William Quantrill (hence the name) and were known for their skirmishes with anti-slavery "Jayhawkers" in the Kansas Territory.  (Jayhawker is synonymous with the people of Kansas or anybody born in Kansas.  Today, Jayhawk is a nickname for a native-born Kansan such as Stanley or Jake.)  In August 1863, Quantrill led an attack on Lawrence Kansas (a center of anti-slavery sentiment) that is known as the "Sacking of Lawrence".  The attack killed more than 180 citizens of Lawrence.  Gramps, as another Jayhawk, would not put up with anyone on the side of Quantrill's Raiders, so let's hope that the Jericho High Red Raider (the mascot in the DC universe anyway) really is just a pirate as depicted on the back of the gymnasium.

Many of the things Heather explained to Mandy about the "Legend of the Jackalope" are commonly known as part of the myth of the jackalope.  (For example, that the first jackalope trophy was in fact made by a Wyoming taxidermist in the 1930s as a joke.  Also, it is a common "fact" of the legend that jackalopes are aggressive, so lumberjacks wear stovepipes on their legs to protect themselves from the jackalope's attack.) 

The idea that the jackalope was invented on a cattle drive is quite possibly true, but I have the Green men tell Heather that story here based on my own experience.  When I was 8, I saw a jackalope postcard in a gift shop, and had to buy it.  A few days later, I showed it (along with other postcards I'd acquired on my family's summer vacation road trip) to my uncles (my dad's 2 brothers) and they both claimed that they were present on the hunting trip where the jackalope was "invented", telling me that each night of the trip, around the campfire, the jackalope had gotten bigger and meaner until it was much larger than the animal on my postcard.  I was 8, so I still had to ask the clarifying question: "So the jackalope isn't real?"  I truly couldn't tell from their tall tale.  And yes, I still have the jackalope postcard.

Sorghum is the fourth most common agricultural product grown or raised in the state of Kansas.  Sorghum is also known as broomcorn and is a genus of about 25 species of flowering plants in the grass family.  Sorghum is grown as cereal for human consumption, as animal feed and to make bristles for brooms.  Most sorghum produced in Kansas is (as Heather tells Mandy) used in ethanol production or for silage.

Writing about (speaking of) Kansas' agricultural products, the first is cattle and calves, followed by wheat and then corn.  The fifth most common agricultural product in Kansas is soybeans.  So, when Jake and Heather reflect that New Bern is an unfortunate bit of rust belt (remember New Bern's jealousy over all that good farmland around Jericho) surrounded by the corn, wheat and cattle belts, there is a reason for the selection of these 3 agricultural products.  The funny thing is, that if you do an internet search for the list of wheat belt states, Kansas is often not included.  But for the purposes of DC, it is.