Elizabeth sat in the front pew of the empty schoolhouse a few days later, alone at the end of the Friday schoolday, alone before she had to resume her duties as mother and return home to Little Jack. But for now, she had these few moments, here. It was one of the few places she could be by herself and just think. And she needed to think right now. And she needed to do it here in the place that Jack built.
She could scarcely believe that in a few short months it would two years since he'd been gone. How was that possible? And Little Jack...well, time was flying by there too. He was already over a year old, beginning to walk and talk. Each day was becoming more hopeful than the last as small hopes for the future blossomed in unexpected places. In Little Jack's smile, in a student's success, even in a warm sunny day. And in that other way too. The one she could no longer ignore.
Because as much as she'd promised herself not to ever care for another Mountie, Elizabeth knew that it had happened anyway. It had simply crept up on her, without her inviting it or even being aware it was happening. But she knew it now. When Allie had run to the jail, worried about Nathan, and Elizabeth had run after her, part of the impetus had been her own worry for him. So she cared, but what did she do now? Maybe nothing, she thought. She was a widow with a young child, she was no longer a naive girl, free from responsibilities, free from past claims on her heart.
"Elizabeth!" Elizabeth turned at the voice. It was Clara Stanton, walking up the aisle of the schoolhouse with gauzy fabric in her arms. Oh, Elizabeth realized. Clara was here to decorate for the wedding. For her wedding, on Sunday, in two days time.
"Oh Clara," Elizabeth said, making to rise. "I"ll get out of your way," she said, but Clara batted a hand at her, indicating that Elizabeth should sit again.
"No, no," Clara said. "I've got some people coming to help me, and there's no sense starting without them," she explained as she took a seat in the pew just across the aisle from Elizabeth, giving every indication of waiting for them.
There was a short, almost awkward pause before Elizabeth turned to her. "You must be so excited for Sunday, Clara," she said.
"Excited...and nervous!" Clara replied wryly with the truth.
"You and Jesse are such a great couple," Elizabeth said.
"I think so," Clara said with a hint of pride in her voice. It'd been a hard battle to get to this day, their wedding day, and Clara was proud that she and Jesse had made it, had survived all the obstacles in their path.
Another short pause, and Clara stole a glance at Elizabeth. Strange that she should be in here at the end of the day, just sitting quietly in a pew. "Elizabeth? Is there something on your mind?" she asked, perhaps a bit intuitively, certainly with great sensitivity.
Elizabeth sighed. It seemed a bit providential that Clara of all people should appear just when she'd come to think through things. For of all the widows in Hope Valley, it was Clara that Elizabeth felt the most kinship with. They were the young widows, the one's who had lost their husbands just weeks into marriage.
"Clara, this is a happy time for you. I don't want to..." Elizabeth trailed off, not wanting to bother her with her concerns. "I don't want to bring up things from the past," she finally said.
"You mean about Peter?" Clara asked, with blindingly accurate clarity. At Elizabeth's wide eyed look of shock, Clara continued, "It's okay, Elizabeth. It doesn't hurt to talk about him anymore. What do you want to know?"
"It's just...it's just...sometimes I find it hard to be a widow. I mean, I barely got to be a wife," Elizabeth began, to Clara's nods of understanding. Clara knew, Clara knew what that was like. "Sometimes I don't know what to do, or say, or how to act. I don't know what's right, what's proper or acceptable. Sometimes I feel like there's a world of judgement on me and I feel like I'm going to take a wrong step."
"Elizabeth, I'm not judging you," Clara was quick to reassure her. "And neither is anyone who cares about you. The only people judging you are people who don't know you or don't care about you. And should their opinion really matter?" Clara asked logically.
Clara was right, she knew. She was younger than Elizabeth but seemed far, far wiser. "After Peter died, and you met Jesse, how did you know it was right? How did you know it was time to move on?" Elizabeth asked.
"Well," Clara smiled. "I didn't really go 'hey I need a man'," she joked, as Elizabeth smiled, the bit of humour relieving some of the seriousness of the moment. "It just sort of happened naturally. I didn't force anything, but I didn't stop it either," she said.
"But didn't you feel..." Elizabeth trailed off, not knowing how to say it, to put it into words, the words were too harsh.
"Didn't I feel what? Like I was betraying Peter?" Clara, once again so perceptive. Elizabeth turned fully to her now, her eyes wide in shock. How could she have known? How could she have known that was her question?
"It's okay, Elizabeth," Clara was saying. "I know, because I've been there. Anyone who has lost a love and loves again has been there," she said. Clara sighed, thinking how to convey what she wanted to say. "It's kind of like this," she finally said. "Elizabeth, who taught you to love? Who taught you how beautiful love is?" she asked.
"Jack did," Elizabeth's reply was immediate.
Clara nodded. "And you're a teacher. How would you feel if a student of yours didn't use what you'd taught them?"
"I wouldn't like it," Elizabeth admitted, beginning to catch a glimmer of understanding.
"So, Jack has been your teacher and you aren't betraying him by wanting to love again. You're honouring him, you're honouring what he's taught you," Clara summed it up.
Tears came to Elizabeth's eyes and she choked back a sob with something more than relief, more than gratitude for this young woman's kind words, her understanding and above all her salve to a hurting heart. As she brushed the tears from her eyes Elizabeth spoke the simple words of gratitude, simple but profound.
"Thank you, Clara."