April 6, 1916

Dear Jack,

I awakened at 5:00 this morning, unable to sleep, because I experienced something I wished more than anything I could share with you. So, I'm writing to you instead. For the last week, I've felt the strangest sensation a couple of times, as if I have little butterflies flying around in my stomach; I had no idea what it was. But this morning for the first time, I distinctly felt the baby move! It was like a tiny little flick to my stomach, then another, then another, until I had no doubt it was the baby.

I will admit a few tears came to my eyes (no surprise there). I'm just amazed at the timing: Exactly when I needed that comfort, here it was. It's remarkable how such a small thing can make me feel much less alone.

Unfortunately the rest of my letter might not be as positive. My father arrived yesterday, accompanied by none other than Charles, which was anything but a pleasant surprise. You would have laughed though to see how I was holding my coat and using my arms to try to conceal the baby until I could tell them. While it worked, it did me very little good in the long run, as Molly Sullivan announced it to them before I could at dinner. My father reacted exactly the way I thought he would with Charles as his backup to everything he said. "Hamilton is where you should be." "This place doesn't have the proper medical care." "You're being selfish to stay here." I'm rolling my eyes just thinking about it. I finally told my father that if he wasn't satisfied with Hope Valley's medical care, he should donate the money to provide better facilities and equipment. You can guess his reaction to that suggestion.

Eventually, I gave up and forcefully told them that the conversation was over. Then we ate the rest of our dinner in uncomfortable silence. Before they left, I pulled my father aside and decided to be completely honest with him. I told him he'd never tried to really understand what made Hope Valley so special to me. I suggested that today he come to school with me and spend the day seeing Hope Valley from my point of view. He agreed, but his demeanor when he did so makes me skeptical as to how hard he'll try to really keep an open mind. I'm just so tired of this argument of Hope Valley versus Hamilton.

I'm also tired of being here without you, but I'm managing. My father wanted to contact the Mounties and demand you immediately come home when he found out where you were, but I told him how you would feel about that. And while a part of me wishes that was possible, I'm so proud of you and your dedication to doing your duty as a Mountie. I would never want you to settle for less than that because of me or anything else. Wish me luck today!

Love,

Elizabeth

Elizabeth set down her pen and picked up the piece of paper, blowing on the wet, black ink. Carefully, she placed it in the growing stack of letters addressed to her husband. Jack's idea to write these letters had been an excellent one; it really did make her feel closer to him, even if he hadn't read them yet. She would give anything to read the stack on his desk somewhere right now. Next month, she reminded herself.

Glancing up, she stared for a moment at the framed picture Jack had given her when he'd told her she was "the one." It was the only decoration she'd brought with her from their little home they shared. Looking at it now, she was once again amazed at Jack's talent. She hoped he would return from the north with some drawings to show her of what it was like.

Knowing she needed to get ready, Elizabeth sighed and began the tedious process, trying not to dread the day before her. At least everything was in the open now; she didn't have to worry about her father's reaction. And Charles had business to attend to, so she wouldn't have to deal with him for most of the day. She needed to keep thinking positively.

A knock startled her. "Yes?" she turned to the door.

Abigail cracked it open. "Your father is here to have breakfast with you," she said gently.

Elizabeth nodded, "I'll be ready in just a minute."

"I'll tell him. He seems in better spirits this morning," she smiled reassuringly before closing the door.

"Let's hope," Elizabeth muttered as she felt another little kick to her midsection.

She couldn't help but smile at that. She had much more than a positive day with her father to hope for in the near future.

Walking towards her father's table in the café, Elizabeth could see him analyzing her appearance. He rose when she reached the table, kissing her on the cheek. "My dear, you look lovely," he said.

"Thank you, but I don't feel it," she replied, sitting down.

"I just can't believe I couldn't tell yesterday about the baby," her father remarked, continuing to look at her.

Elizabeth laughed, "Well, I did a good job hiding it. I wanted to tell you myself. It just didn't work out the way I'd planned."

"Well, if you wanted it to be a shock, it was. I sent your mother a telegram this morning to tell her."

"Good, I'm sure all of Hamilton will know by the end of the day then," Elizabeth remarked with a chuckle as Abigail approached them with their breakfast.

She looked up at her friend and turned to her father, "You can see that Abigail takes good care of me."

"Yes, I can."

Abigail smiled, "We take care of each other." She turned to Mr. Thatcher, "I hear you're going to attend school with the teacher today."

He chuckled, "Yes, it should be an enlightening experience I'm sure."

Abigail nodded, raising her eyebrows, "I'm sure it will."

As she left, Elizabeth turned back to her father. "I hope you'll keep an open mind like I asked."

"I'll enjoy watching you teach, but I do understand more than you think, Elizabeth. I know you love what you do, that still doesn't mean you couldn't also love it in Hamilton. Besides, once you have the baby you'll have to stop teaching anyway."

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. "We're not talking about this right now." She took a deep breath, "Do you hear much from Julie?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Her father frowned, "No." He looked away and took a sip of coffee. "Do you?' he asked.

"Not as much as I would like to, but I guess that's a good sign in a way. That means she's focused on her schooling."

"Or on a man," her father added.

"I don't think so. From what I do hear from her, she seems like she's absorbed in her studies and really discovering her purpose."

"It seems all of our daughters want to get as far away from Hamilton as they can."

"Father," Elizabeth sighed. This day was going to be a waste of time. He was never going to change his mind. She took a bite of toast and glanced out the window to see two of her students walking to school. What time was it?

"We have to get going," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"We're not finished."

"It doesn't matter; I can't be late for school." Gulping her coffee, she quickly rose and grabbed her coat. As she put it on, she couldn't help but suddenly put her hand to her stomach. Another kick.

"Are you alright?" her father asked, rising from the table.

She smiled, quickly recovering. "Yes, it's just that today is the first time I've felt the baby move, and it takes some getting used to."

Her father smiled back. "I remember when that first happened with your mother. I still can't believe my own daughter is going to be a mother, too."

"It's becoming more believable every day. I am surprised though that this is your first grandchild. I would have thought Viola and Lionel would have a child or at least made an announcement by now."

"Yes, well they haven't said anything." He opened the door of the café for Elizabeth and walked with her to school.

Along the way, she saw Charles approaching the sawmill and was grateful she had an excuse to speed her father along rather than stopping to chat.

Her father seemed to notice this. "You didn't seem too thrilled that Charles was with me," he said as they continued walking.

Elizabeth paused; she was tempted to give a diplomatic answer, but decided to stay true to her resolves today. She wanted to be completely honest with her father in helping him see things from her perspective. "No, I wasn't," she admitted. "He's never tried to understand why I'm here either and after his failed proposal, things have always been awkward between us."

"I see," her father said, looking down. "Charles cares about you a great deal, Elizabeth."

"I care about him, too, but I'm a married woman," she emphatically replied. "I shouldn't be associating with men who've had feelings for me. And I shouldn't have to listen to him or anyone else insult my husband or imply that I made a mistake in marrying him! I made that decision. It's done, and I don't regret any of my choices in the least."

"I think it's just hard for those of us who care about you in Hamilton to see the hardships you're enduring here."

Frustrated, Elizabeth stepped ahead of him and said stoically, "We need to hurry." Her words were falling on deaf ears. How direct did she need to be? Hardships? she thought. Because she didn't have indoor plumbing or fancy dinner parties to attend? Because she was filling her time with meaningful service, not weekends at the club? Maybe Jack was right. She came from a different world, and each passing year was separating her further from that world. It was clear that her father and Charles certainly didn't understand this world at all.

Ascending the steps of her beautiful little schoolhouse, she was grateful she would be teaching today and not listening to more of her father's empty platitudes for a few hours.

Three students were waiting for her to unlock the door. "Good morning children," she greeted.

"Good morning, Mrs. Thornton," Patrick Harper replied, glancing back at Mr. Thatcher. "Who is that?" he whispered.

She chuckled. Kids were always curious. "My father, he's going to be joining us today. He wanted to meet you all," she replied loud enough for her father to hear.

Patrick turned to him. "I'm Patrick," he said, extending his hand.

Elizabeth looked up at her father who offered his own hand in return. He was smiling. "Nice to meet you, Patrick. And what do you think of Mrs. Thornton as your teacher?" he asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "She's pretty good for a teacher I guess."

His response elicited a full laugh from William Thatcher.

Patrick went on, enjoying the attention. "I've taught her a few things, too. Like when she came to stay with us on our homestead. I taught her how to milk a cow. Can you believe she didn't know how?"

Mr. Thatcher raised his eyebrows. "She stayed with you on a homestead? My, my, I wish I could have seen that." He glanced at Elizabeth, a small smile forming on his lips. He continued, "I know it's hard to believe, but where Mrs. Thornton comes from, she never had to milk a cow. That was nice of you to teach her though."

Elizabeth laughed, moving inside the building. Please let today help him understand, she prayed.

As they entered, she pointed to a desk in the back. "If you'll sit there today, sir."

"Yes, Mrs. Thornton," her father said, a hint of mocking in his voice.

"I'll introduce you when we start and maybe you could take some time telling the children about what you do and letting them ask questions. That would be a great opportunity for them."

He nodded, "Of course."

If nothing else, Elizabeth thought, he was playing along with her desires today. Was his motive, though, only to find more ammunition to criticize her current situation?

More children filed into the school, and Elizabeth began to feel a little nervous. She needed today to go perfectly, for her father to really see how much she loved what she did and how much these children needed her. Unfortunately, she couldn't show him how fulfilled she felt being married to Jack and what they shared. But, he could see this, and this is what had brought her to Hope Valley in the first place. It would have to be enough.

And so the day began. She began by introducing her father and allowing the children to ask questions, which proved to be most entertaining. They kept asking him more about what Elizabeth was like as a child than what he did for a living. Surprisingly, the business tycoon went along with their requests and told them how she would pretend to be a teacher when she was a little girl and force her little sister to be her pupil. He told them how she loved to read and make up stories. The children's favorite part, however, was when he told about the time Elizabeth got in trouble for telling a lie about her grade on a spelling test and had to write her spelling list a hundred times as punishment. With each story, Elizabeth noticed the true joy and possibly a little pride she detected in her father's eyes as he talked about his daughter. He kept glancing at her, smiling and laughing as he spoke.

This was the father she remembered as a child; not the one who was so concerned with social standing and appearances. The one who had encouraged her to pursue her dreams, who had supported her in her decisions, even the choice to come to Hope Valley in the beginning. Where had he gone? She wished with a touch of sadness that this wasn't simply a trip down memory lane, but that she could recapture that man she loved and admired so much.

After her father's interview, the class proceeded with their lessons. They had been reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and had just gotten to the part where Pip visits Miss Havisham for the first time and is met with a rather disturbing scene. So, Elizabeth had the children draw what they were reading to visualize it and compare what they imagined from the descriptions. The children were absorbed in their artwork and the story, and she was impressed with how their interpretations turned out. They made it through math as well, and then came lunch and recess.

Elizabeth was grateful the weather was better, and that the children could play outside. She sighed in fatigue and picked up the two lunches Abigail had packed, then gratefully walked to the back to join her father for a break.

"I'm sure you're exhausted by the time you leave everyday," he remarked, as she handed him the food and sat down.

"Yes, but I go home with some good stories and memories," she said. "I always have something funny to report to Jack at the end of the day."

"I remember you writing that you had a few discipline problems when you first came."

She nodded, surprised he remembered her letters. "A few, but really it was because of what the children had been through, losing their fathers in the mine. I don't have as many of those students anymore. Now, they're mainly children of the mill workers. Occasionally one will give me a hard time, but I've realized that the most important thing I can do as their teacher is build meaningful relationships with them. Once they realize how much I really care and believe in them, they usually don't cause problems. They want to be successful."

"I can see that," her father said thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich.

Elizabeth stared at him, realizing what an odd sight was actually before her. The great William Thatcher sitting in her classroom at a small desk, eating a roast beef sandwich from a tin lunch pail. His demeanor and his fancy navy blue suit seemed to stand out in this room like a Rosemary Coulter at a Sunday school picnic.

He continued to eat, pensive and silent. What she wouldn't give to know what he was thinking right now. But she decided to let him have some time to contemplate; it was much better than arguing. When he finally did speak, however, he could have knocked her over with a feather with his words. "I think I'll go outside and play ball with those boys," he said as he finished his lunch.

Elizabeth was sure her face revealed her complete shock as she responded, "Okay. Go ahead."

Stunned, she watched him quickly rise and walk out the door without another word. Quickly running over to the window, Elizabeth saw him approach Caleb, Patrick, and Miles, tossing a baseball, and begin to throw it with them. What was happening? She'd never seen this side of him. He'd had no sons, only daughters. She saw him say something to the group, and Caleb and Miles begin to roar with laughter. What had he said? She wished she had witnesses of this; no one would believe her.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth hated to end the moment by going outside and ringing her cowbell to mark the end of recess. The children ran up the steps one by one trailed by her father.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked, her voice still full of disbelief.

"Immensely," he replied with a smile.

Giggling, she closed the door and continued on to finish the school day, trying to gauge her father's facial expressions and reactions. But he simply maintained a neutral expression until she rang the bell and said, "Class dismissed. Go enjoy the sunshine."

When everyone had left, he rose and approached her at the front where she was erasing the board. "Thank you for having me come today, Beth. You were right. It was a very enlightening experience."

"I'm glad," Elizabeth replied hesitantly.

He smiled, "When I was watching you teach, it was like I was seeing the old Beth in Hamilton, the one I thought had disappeared: determined, full of life, genuine," he paused, "happy," he added. "I can see that you love what you do and these children really do look up to you. You are making a huge difference in their lives."

Nothing prepared Elizabeth for the tear that involuntarily crept onto her cheek from his words. "You have no idea how much that means to me to hear you say that," she said.

He smiled at her tenderly and nodded, "I only wish your mother could have seen this, too. A picture really is worth a thousand words." He hesitated, clearing his throat, "I just want to say I'm sorry, Beth. I'm sorry I've tried to put so much pressure on you and Jack to leave this place. I'm sorry I've been so critical. I can't say I'm ever going to be happy about it, but I'll stop trying to get you to come back to Hamilton."

"Father," she sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes. She reached out for him, and for the first time in many years, she truly felt loved in their embrace.

As she pulled back, her father smiled, "I know I don't have any real excuses, but you'll learn sooner than you think that it's not easy parting with your children, especially your favorite daughter."

Elizabeth chuckled amidst her tears, "You'd better be careful who hears you say that."

"Well, I mean it. You've always been different than your sisters-wanting to make a real difference, not caught up in the social climbing Hamilton society. I admire that in you more than you know. You have a special purpose; I just needed to be reminded of that fact."

"Thank you, Father." She wiped away the tears that continued to fall and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I cry all the time these days, happy or sad. Jack should be grateful he's missing some of this," she said, pulling away.

He smiled, "Jack's a lucky man."

"I'm the lucky one."

"Maybe you both are to have found each other then."

She nodded, trying to regain control of her emotions.

Her father walked to the back and grabbed their coats, then turned to her. "Now, shall we go back into town? I'll just make a stop to tell Charles we want to spend the evening alone, and then we can walk around town and have dinner at the café," he said.

"But, where will Charles eat?" she asked, joining him by the door.

He shrugged, "At the saloon, I guess."

"No," she shook her head. "He can join us."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I won't; between the two of us, maybe we can keep him in line." They both laughed, stepping into the sunshine.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. She was amazed at the lightness she felt, as if a heavy burden she hadn't even realized she was carrying had been lifted. Spring seemed to finally have arrived, she'd reconciled with her father, the baby was growing, and Jack would be home next month. She had a lot to be grateful for.