Author's note: Hey, it's another update! Can you believe it? My muse in on fire or something. I never update stuff this quickly. Anyway, this chapter is going to be Jack's perspective on things, just like I've been promising. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 4

Morning came to Heartland slowly and quietly. Snow had fallen overnight, so the thick cover blanketing every exterior surface produced a profound sound-dampening effect, hushing any noises from the world outside. The winter sun hadn't even risen by eight a.m., but everyone in the house was already up and seeing to chores and regular routines; everyone except Jack. He knew better than to come pattering out of his room in his dressing gown to try to make himself useful, much less in a flannel shirt, jeans, and his boots. Lou would've "had a cow", as Georgie once put it, if she'd caught Jack doing anything remotely resembling work. He'd tried to argue once that frying bacon and scrambling eggs for breakfast for the family didn't even begin to approach the "strenuous activity" his doctor advised against, but Lou nearly had a meltdown the first time he'd tried, post-heart attack, to cook for them. If there was one thing Jack hated more than inactivity, it was when Lou fussed over him. So, he held his tongue almost to the point of biting it off and remained as sedate as possible in the mornings so as to keep the peace.

Footsteps echoed softly in the kitchen; chairs scraped gently against the floor; plates and cutlery clattered in the sink. If Jack listened closely enough, he could distinguish between Georgie's clomping footfalls and Katie's soft toddling; between Amy's light step and Lou's purposeful stride. They were all trying to keep it down for his sake, but he knew about all their movements anyway. He wasn't entirely comfortable that they were trying so hard not to disturb him; that they thought he needed absolute silence to recover. He also couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that all the family members were constantly walking on eggshells around him. It was as if they'd made some tacit rule while he was still in the hospital: Don't say or do anything to upset Grandpa; he might have another heart attack, and it'll be our fault if he does. That irritating behaviour made him believe they suddenly regarded him as fragile and liable to crumble away at the slightest touch.

No one had said a word about the sudden appearance and disappearance of the hospital bed—at least not in Jack's presence—nor had anyone said a word to him about Lisa's sudden departure. There were times around the dinner table when Jack sensed the topic of his status with Lisa was on the tip of Lou's tongue: He would catch her looking at him with an expression that was a mix of concern and curiosity, but whatever questions she had brewing would retreat into the recesses of her mind once he met her gaze. Sometimes, he wished she would just spit it out and get it over with, but he was mostly relieved not to have to talk about it. Just thinking about how poorly he'd handled the situation made him want to forget it happened at all; much better to remember happier times.

Car keys jingled; the front door and screen opened and shut. Silence reigned again. Jack finally ventured outside his room, knowing everyone had left. Since it was a school day, Georgie had gone off to catch the bus. Amy was most likely out in the barn to see after whatever client horses she was dealing with; Lou had taken Katie to some kid-friendly activity or other.

Left alone with his thoughts, Jack made his way to the empty kitchen, grimacing as the pain in his arthritic joints flared up. The cold weather usually exacerbated the discomfort, and today was no exception. He sat down slowly at the small table, the sash of his robe trailing on the floor, unnoticed. Through the window, Jack looked at the first hints of dawn peeking above the horizon. It was a deep orange that flared out and coloured the rest of the sky in pinkish, purple hues. After the previous night's snows, the skies had cleared, giving way to a deep chill. Absently, Jack rubbed at his swollen knees, willing the ache to subside. He pursed his lips, thinking that right at this moment, Lisa was probably enjoying much warmer temperatures in Toulon, or wherever she was in France.

We had fun in France, right?

Jack felt the corners of his mouth pull downwards almost of their own volition in a deep, self-indulgent pout. No, I didn't have fun in France, actually, he thought, feeling a return of the deep discomfort he'd experienced while in Paris. The truth was that France was nothing like Alberta, and Jack discovered he had zero points of reference in that foreign country. The one thing that had made it bearable was Lisa's presence, and even that hadn't really been enough to take the edge off his constant unease and perceived awkwardness. She was very much at home there; he wasn't, and he knew he could never be.

But France brought out a different side of Lisa: a happy side that he hadn't seen before—not that Lisa wasn't "happy" in Hudson too, of course—but it was the ease at which she navigated the language and the culture that set Jack back on his heels and made him feel drastically out of place. It frustrated him to no end that he couldn't share properly in that happiness, and though he did his best to hide how absolutely uncomfortable he was, part of him was deeply upset Lisa didn't once guess at his own unhappiness. Perhaps I hid it too well… he mused.

If I'd known what a lousy time you were having in France…

It wasn't a "lousy time"… I was with you…

Jack felt his frown intensify. The muscles in his jaw and throat pulled taut as he replayed the conversation they'd had about the vacation property she'd wanted them to buy in Toulon.

Where do we go from here? Lisa had asked with a tremor in her voice as she looked squarely at him, expecting an answer that would assuage her fear that they were on divergent paths.

But I didn't have an answer for her then, Jack thought uncomfortably, rubbing his stubbly chin and wondering for the hundredth time what he could have said or done differently during that talk. And then she walked out, saying she needed me to think about where we were headed because she needed an answer… and it was like a stake through my heart when she left.

His doctor blamed the heart attack on too much stress. There had certainly been plenty of it due to the work he'd taken on for Rich, with things coming to a head with Tim, and then nearly losing Phoenix because they didn't have the funds to buy out Eric Williams… But privately, Jack knew all of that only compounded the underlying issue: he was heartsick and heartbroken over his split with Lisa. The heart attack had merely been the inevitable manifestation of that brokenness.

Jack felt as if a cold stone suddenly dropped into the pit of his empty stomach. The hurt he'd witnessed spread across Lisa's lovely features the second he'd yelled "Maybe we shouldn't go to Arizona together!" came back to him, and he shut his eyes with deep regret.

It was wrong of me to push you away like that, and it just came out all wrong. That bed scared me, Lisa. Not only did it remind me of when I lost Lyndy, but it reminded me of my own mortality. The heart attack scared me. I thought I was gonna die out there in that field… I was gonna die without being reconciled to you, and I knew it would be something awful for you. But then I remember thinking how peaceful everything was, lying out there in the field, even though it felt like a boulder was crushing my chest. It was the last thing I recall thinking that it's good and proper that I die right here, on my family's land, and not in some stuffy, closed room in a hospital bed…

Lis, I was so happy when you came back, Jack thought to himself as a sad smile creased his face. I was so happy. I wanted to "bridge that gap" you wrote about in your letter… but that damned bed. You don't know what it's like, Lisa. You don't know what it's like to sit by one of those beds while the person you love with all your heart fades away to nothing. How could you have got me one of those beds? You think I would have been comfortable in one of those beds? Those are death beds, Lisa. And I may not be in the ground yet, but ten years down the line, who knows what will happen? You're so much younger than I am; you still have half your life to live, and I… I'm so much closer to the finish line. Do you really want to be tied to me when I'm sick and old and drooling from the mouth; an invalid who needs help just to eat? No, Lisa. I can't do that to you... I won't do that to you. You're better off without ever having to go through that. I couldn't stand to see you lose me. It would break your heart, and it would break mine to see it. I just wish… I just wish I could have had a chance to explain that to you… but maybe it's for the best. You're gone away, and you're probably not coming back. Maybe one day you'll be relieved that you didn't have to put up with me in my final years…

The kitchen brightened as the sun finally crested the horizon, sending its rays through the windows. Jack pulled himself up from his seat, grimacing yet again as his knees creaked painfully. Lou had sliced some apples and made some porridge for his breakfast. Jack half-heartedly spooned the sticky slop into a bowl and shoved it into the microwave to warm it up. His mind wandered to what he was actually going to do with his time once he got to Arizona next week. The doctor seemed to think the hot climate and rest would do wonders for his overall health, but Jack wasn't entirely convinced. He'd never gone anywhere outside of Canada on his own before, nor was he fond of air travel… And then he was sure he'd hate being away from the family…

Stop kidding yourself, Jack thought, you were looking forward to having that time with Lisa, and you know it. But that's not going to happen now, is it? Both you and she made sure of that.

The microwave timer beeped obnoxiously, startling Jack from his ruminations. Almost on auto-pilot, he opened the door and gingerly pulled out the steaming bowl. Eating was a mechanical exercise that morning for Jack. He dipped his spoon into the porridge, opened his mouth, chewed a little and swallowed, barely tasting what was going down each time. He nearly didn't even finish the apple slices, as they were rather dry and corky in texture, meaning they were probably past their natural "best before" date and wholly unappealing. But he forced himself nevertheless; he never liked food going to waste.

What will the food will be like in Arizona? Jack wondered. Will I like eating with the locals? They'll be pretty accepting of an old cowboy like me down there, right? It won't be like those snooty waiters in France… And thank God they speak English in Phoenix. Without Lisa there to translate for me when we were in Paris, I would have been utterly lost…

Jack finished chewing the last apple slice. He got up again, bracing for the pain in his bad knees, and then crossed to the sink to rinse out his bowl, remembering how hopelessly lost he was in public places and Parisian restaurants as everyone chattered on around him in a tongue he couldn't comprehend. Lisa had always indulgently and patiently translated for him, no matter how trivial a phrase or lengthy a conversation.

You just can't stop thinking about Lisa, can you? Jack realised. Maybe there's still time to call her… Make up with her… Ask her to come back…

No, you're not going to do that. She doesn't need to be tied to you any longer, Jack told himself sternly. You know it's best for both of you if you just let her go. She'll figure it out for herself sooner or later that she's dodged a major bullet by not having to spoon-feed you mashed potatoes when you're too old and too incapacitated to look after yourself. She deserves better than that. Don't make yourself her burden.

Heaving a loud sigh, Jack returned to his bedroom to lie down again. Ever since the heart attack, he found himself growing tired easily. His spirits were low and oppressed as he realised he actually didn't want to go to Arizona alone, in spite of convincing himself it was better to keep Lisa at a distance. But he'd given the doctor his promise that he would follow the orders for a long break in a warm climate, and Jack Bartlett was a man of his words.

To be continued...