CHAPTER ONE
September 27, 2006
It was a crisp, cool morning from where she stood. She liked mornings like these; they always felt full of promise and hope. Quite unlike what she had left in Amman. After so many hours holed up on an airplane, this was a pleasant thing to arrive to. She inhaled the fresh air with deep, happy gasps, adjusting the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder as she surveyed the busy scenery of Denver International Airport. She was nearly home, and that was enough to thrill her.
"Good morning, Mara."
That is, until she heard his voice.
Mara stopped in her tracks, turning slowly on her heel. A vaguely familiar 1969 Plymouth Roadrunner sat in her line of sight. Leaning against the driver's side, hands on the roof and eyes peering over the top, was Jake Green.
Mara immediately filled with a slow-burning annoyance.
"So the prodigal son returns," she began, staring at Jake with a disbelieving expression, "and they make me ride with him? Is this a joke?"
"What, no hello? No nice to see you?"
"I've seen enough of you."
Jake blinked. He stepped around the car, grabbed the two large suitcases she had sat nearby, and tossed them into the backseat. "Get in the car, Mara."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!"
"Get in the car!"
It was her only choice, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "I'm going to kill April," Mara grumbled under her breath and slid into the passenger's seat. She rested her carry-on at her feet, her purse in her lap, and buckled her seatbelt as Jake got behind the wheel. They pulled away from the curb, and set off.
For the first hour of their trip, nothing was said. Driving into Kansas would take over three and a half hours, and the easiest way for Mara to cope with such a long ride was to say nothing at all. Jake was more than happy to oblige. It wasn't until they began to approach the Colorado-Kansas border that any new acknowledgment was made; specifically, when Mara straightened in her seat and began to dig through her purse in search of something. Jake, distracted by her sudden movement, shifted between watching her and keeping an eye on the road.
"What are you doing?"
She didn't respond, but pulled out a penny, watching it glint in the newfound sunlight. Suddenly, Jake knew immediately. He laughed.
"Don't tell me you still do that."
Mara shot him a glare, rolling down the passenger's side window. A sign that read Welcome to Kansas!, was fast approaching. "And I suppose you still have no morals, no beliefs of your own," she retorted. Mara balled her hand up into a fist, the coin buried in the middle, and took a deep breath before tossing the penny out the window, just as they rolled over the state line.
"You don't have morals, Mara. You have superstitions."
"That presumes I'm not concerned with the goodness or badness of human character," Mara replied, digging once more through her purse and producing a half-empty pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights. She plucked out a stick and rested it between her lips, mumbling around her mouthful as she lit up, "I am."
"Do you have to smoke in my car?"
Mara dropped her lighter into her purse, propped her feet up on the dashboard, and pulled the cigarette from her mouth, blowing a defiant puff of smoke in Jake's direction. His expression turned into one of disdain. She fiddled with the cigarette between her fingers, gazing out the window at the passing scenery. She said absently, "What do you care? They don't drive Roadrunners in Iraq."
"I'm done with Iraq," Jake stated. Mara murmured a sound of disbelief, and he glanced over at her, remarking, "Just like you're done with Jordan."
"I never said I was done with Jordan."
"You must be, if you're coming back to Jericho."
"Just like the prodigal son?"
Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm back in San Diego by morning."
"Of course you are."
That was the funny thing about their relationship: Mara knew more about where Jake had been for the past five years than anyone back home. Mara, a licensed nurse practitioner, had just spent the past couple of years working as a Peace Corps Medical Officer in Amman, Jordan. It had not been unusual for Jake, and the men he worked with, to drive over the al-Karama border into Jordan for some time out of the war zone. One chance encounter in a local shopping district, and his cover was screwed. Boundaries were respected, but tiptoed upon.
He glanced at her. "Do you think of me as a liar?"
"I believe you're a very good one."
"And what does April think of the fact you slept with her brother-in-law?"
Mara grew deathly silent. She took a drag off her cigarette, tipped the ashes out the open window, and said nothing. "See," Jake pointed out, "you're just as bad as me."
Yet, in her opinion, she was nothing like him. The simple fact that a night in Amman had produced a moment of weakness meant nothing. (That evening, and its subsequent trysts, was a fact she had never admitted to anyone, not even her older sister.) She didn't lie like him. She wasn't constantly getting into trouble. She was, in her opinion, never in over her head. Mara refused to acknowledge his words, but that didn't mean she agreed. Jake glanced in her direction, but didn't push any further.
They were rolling through New Bern now. Each passing sight was more familiar than the last. In an effort to fill the void, Jake clicked on the radio, switching through the dial to a news station. Mara snorted at the result, tipping some more ash out the window. She couldn't remember the last time she had listened to an American newscast. After spending so much time in the Middle East, she had grown a bit biased against her home country's delivery of news — she felt the truth was glossed over more often than not. Listening to it then, she felt truly home.
"Tension is high on Capitol Hill, as an emergency session of Congress prepares to hear the president address the issue of global violence. Recent attacks have pushed this administration to take extreme action, raising more fears than alleviating. With global tension rising, the president is taking a risky step by confronting what some political observers —"
They stopped by the Richmond farm on their way into town, to pick up a pie for Jake's mother. Pulling up next to the roadside stand, Mara had to brace herself for her first real interaction with people back home. From the initial expression on Jake's face, she knew he was having the same feeling — that ambivalent, awkward churning in the gut one experiences when seeing someone beloved for the first time in years. Mara got out of the car, flicked her cigarette onto the ground, stamping out the butt and following a few steps behind Jake as they were met with an ecstatic Stanley Richmond.
"I can't believe it!" Stanley exclaimed, "Jake Green!"
They embraced, and that was when Stanley noticed Mara, hovering a few steps behind. His eyes lit up. "Mara-bean!"
She couldn't help but chuckle as he swept her into a bone-crushing hug. She'd always had a close relationship with Stanley; he was much like an older brother to her. Other than her sister, he was perhaps one of the few people from Jericho she had kept in touch with. "Good to see you too, Stanley," she smiled.
"When'd you get back to town?" Stanley directed this question to Jake, upon releasing Mara from his grasp.
"Just now."
But Stanley was already off on another tangent. He looked at Jake and Mara with confused, nearly suspicious eyes. "Wait, why are you two here together?"
Mara immediately rolled her eyes, then diverted them off in the direction of farmland. "He gave me a ride into town from Denver."
"Why didn't you call me? I would have —"
"You can thank April for that."
Jake interrupted before the topic of conversation could get any worse. "Is that Bonnie?"
Mara glanced in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, Bonnie was sitting nearby. While Jake merely signed to her with surprise, You grew up!, Mara side-stepped around Stanley and went to embrace his sister. They chatted in fluent sign language as the men talked on their own. Suddenly, just as soon as they had arrived, they were preparing to leave; Stanley threw something in their direction to catch Bonnie's attention, and demanded a strawberry rhubarb pie. Not long after, Mara found herself slipping back into the passenger's seat of Jake's car with a pink box resting on her lap. They took off once again.
"It's weird, huh?" Jake said as he drove.
"What?"
"Seeing people again."
"Not all of us feel the same desperation to get away as you do."
"I never said anything about getting away."
The look they exchanged was meaningful. Like each knew something the other one didn't. "I have no problem seeing old faces again, Jake," she said, shifting her line of vision out the window. They were coming up into town now, and all the familiar sights were entering their view. "I actually have good memories here. It's a shock, I know."
"Do you believe in redemption?" Jake asked suddenly.
Mara turned and gave him a strange look. She shook her head and looked back out the window. "Why don't we save time, and you just tell me what I believe?"
Entering downtown Jericho brought with it words that Mara did not expect to hear, and when he said them it felt as if she had been hit by a speeding train. "Probably not much of anything," he said, "except in getting through the day."
The thing she hated most was that he was right.
"Drop me off at the medical center," was all she said. The building wasn't all that far away, and she even opened her car door while the vehicle was in motion so that he would have to stop. She looped her purse and her carry-on over her shoulder, hopped out (leaving the pink box behind on the seat), and reached into the backseat for her suitcases.
"Mara —"
"See you in another five years," she replied sarcastically, shutting the door and wheeling the luggage up and over the curb. Jake was left to sit and watch from the driver's seat as she hurried toward the entrance to the medical center, dragging her belongings with her, looking as if she wanted anything but time on her side.
She found April at the nurses' station.
"Just for the record," Mara began as she swept up to the counter, without even a hug or hello in greeting, "I hate you with the passion of thousand fiery suns."
Her older sister smiled wryly as she scribbled some orders into a chart; she did not glance up. "Oh, hey! Have a nice trip?"
With suitcases sitting at her feet, Mara adjusted the straps of her bags around her shoulder and leaned against the counter. "Do you have a secret hatred for me that I need to know about? Because really, Ape," she said, using her childhood nickname for April, "my sanity can't take much more of this."
April rolled her eyes, set the chart down with a stack of others, and left the counter, which Mara took as her cue to gather her things and hurry after. "Mom said…" April referred to her mother-in-law, Gail Green, who had become much like a surrogate mother in the absence of their own. "…Mom said he was coming for a visit, it was just a coincidence, that's all. He happened to be able to give you a ride into town. There was no spite or malice involved."
They dropped her things off in April's office, and were off just as quickly. Mara sighed melodramatically, following her fast-moving sister down the hallways of Jericho's medical center. "You make my life really, really difficult."
April stopped suddenly, nearly causing Mara to bump into her. They had found central supply. April stepped into what was basically an oversized closet, pulled out a pair of nurses' scrubs in her sister's size, and shoved them into Mara's arms. "I just got home, and you choose to put me to work now," Mara stated dryly.
"Look, you're a nurse practitioner. Go practice."
Mara rolled her eyes playfully, and began to venture off toward a nearby restroom to change, but stopped suddenly when April called after her,
"I'll come grab you later. We're having dinner at Gail and Johnston's tonight."
She turned around to smile her acknowledgment, and it was then she noticed something off about her older sister. A light that was missing from her eyes. Mara stepped forward, cradling the scrubs in one arm as she reached out to touch April's shoulder with the other hand. "Hey, everything okay?"
April said nothing for a moment, but then put on a brave smile and nodded. She said, "Yeah, everything's great. Eric can't wait to see you."
Mara nodded, as if she weren't quite certain of April's insistence. "Okay," she replied, a bit uncertainly. "I'll just grab a chart and jump in."
For a moment, her sister didn't respond. Then she said softly,
"I'm glad you're finally home, Mara."
All Mara could do was reach out and embrace her sister.
It started with the lights flickering.
No one had expected the power to fail, least of all Mara. She had been administering medication to a patient when it happened; a sudden twitching in the fluorescent lights that led to complete darkness. It took a full minute before the backup generator kicked in, and when it did, everyone was puzzled.
It didn't take long for word to travel: an explosion in the west, probably Denver. Mara wouldn't have believed it were real had she not witnessed the plume through a window. It took common sense to discern the source: only one thing caused an explosion of that magnitude. She wanted to believe the people of Denver were really safe, but gut instinct forced her to fear the worst.
A funny thing happens when the world changes: you run on auto-pilot. Trivial things begin to matter less, and you find yourself working only for survival. This is what Mara discovered that day in September.
Chaos reigned for hours. The medical center took in patients who had become overwhelmed by the panic of their neighbors — winding up stampeded, dehydrated, bruised and battered. Mara herself was overwhelmed by the sheer exhaustion of constant movement, lack of food, sheer lack of knowledge. What was happening? Did anyone know anything? Constant checks with the others on staff proved fruitless: had any new information become available, Mayor Green would have provided it to them. And she knew that much. Johnston was reliable.
News trickled in of rioting out by the gas station. Mara braced herself for the worst, but instead of receiving beaten and bloody consumers, paramedics came in with little Stacy Clemons... and a very crude cricothyroidotomy?
Mara was flabbergasted. She followed alongside the volunteer paramedics (who also tended to serve as firefighters) as they wheeled the little girl in on a gurney. She was very pale, and seemed to be breathing alright, despite the fact that a gathering of straws were sticking out of a slit in her neck. "Hi Stacy, hi sweetie," Mara cooed in greeting. She had known Stacy since she was an infant.
"What happened?" Her question was posed to Brian, one of the paramedics: someone she just happened to have attended high school with. That was Jericho in a nutshell: everywhere she turned, she found someone she knew.
Brian shook his head in disbelief. "School bus hit a deer. When it stopped, she had her chin against the seat in front of her. Driver didn't make it, but Jake happened to stumble upon a couple of kids looking for help. He gave her the trach."
"Wait — Jake Green?"
Mara pointed them into an empty exam room, looking more than shocked as Stacy's parents came hurrying up. "The one and only!" Brian called over his shoulder, as Mara tried to save face and greet the child's parents in a soothing manner. She did not respond any more to Brian's revelation, even when he did a one-eighty and also called to her, "Oh, hey, welcome back!"
Being a nurse practitioner, Mara had more leverage than the average nurse. She was able to perform exams, order tests, write prescriptions, and generally fill more of the void that's felt in a small facility such as the Jericho medical center. Having such advanced training enabled her to step into doctor-like shoes, which was especially helpful during such a chaotic evening. She used these skills to replace Stacy's crude trach with safer, sanitary equipment and complete her tracheotomy; she used them to order x-ray films to check the placement of the tube, and to once again reassure the Clemons family that yes, their daughter would be fine.
But then Gail flagged her down, and pulled her over to an exam room. Pleasantries were brief, for Gail seemed agitated. "Jake, his leg's hurt pretty bad," she said, motioning to the doorway. Mara looked inside and for the first time, noticed Jake laying on a hospital gurney, plainly looking in pain. "Can you—?"
Saying no to Gail Green wasn't an option.
"Of course," Mara assured her, biting the bullet and stepping inside the room. Gail hurried off, presumably to track down her husband. She stood just inside the doorjamb, an eyebrow raised as Jake warily looked her over. "Thought you'd be off to San Diego by now."
"You think a lot of things."
If you were to ask Mara, she would vehemently deny relief at knowing Jake Green was safe and sound in Jericho. Their enmity was town legend, but the fact of the matter was that at the end of the day, Jake was the sibling of her brother-in-law, and the well-being of family would always be a top priority for Mara. If something were to happen to Jake, she knew Eric would feel devastation.
At least, that's what she believed.
Instead of retorting some equally thought-out reply, she stepped forward and motioned for him to reveal his leg. It was badly wounded, gashed in such a way that someone who had trouble stomaching gore would have had difficulty remaining by the bedside. "What'd you do, stick your leg in a wood chipper?"
"Something like that."
For a moment, Mara was silent, gently cleaning the wound and mostly ignoring his quiet hisses at the pain of antiseptic. Then, softly, she said, "That was really good of you... what you did."
He fixed her with an unwavering gaze. "You think I wouldn't have done it?"
"I think a lot of things."
Silence. She proceeded to irrigate the wound and prepare for sutures, injecting anesthetic around the area and setting up tools. But before she started, she faltered, a slight tremble to her hand as she refused to meet his eye. Gently, she said, "Tell me we're gonna be okay, Jake."
He was quiet, still watching her. They knew the weight of the day, knew that any unpleasantness had to be set aside. Knew that, for now, they were all each other had. And so, when he responded, it was out of understanding. He reached out and shamelessly touched her face, gently cradling her cheek in his strong, capable hand, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips.
"We're gonna be okay."