From Flame and Ash

— Chapter 6 —

A Heart-Shaped Parcel of Land

"YOU'RE SURE, then?"

Nathan shifted in the saddle, letting his eyes roam the land sprawled out in front of him before he answered.

On a map, it was land whose boundaries markedly resembled a heart. Acres of green forest against a backdrop of mountains that rose like an encompassing embrace. A wide creek, rushing with mountain water and fish. A house that needed work.

It was just as he remembered. But different, somehow. Or perhaps it was he that was different. The last time he'd been here, he'd been lighter in the saddle, with an edging of hope buoying him up. But nevertheless, sure he was now. And so he told Bill in response to his question.

"Good." He could tell his friend was pleased by the smile warming his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'm glad I didn't sell to that slippery eel Walden when he was interested. I think you and Allie will be very happy here."

"I think so, too." Nathan's response was quiet but certain. The place was perfect for the two of them. And truth be told, he was itching for a project to sink his hands into, something other than Mountie work to devote himself to. Something to keep his mind occupied, something to break a sweat over, and . . . just to build again, to create. The woodworking and carpentry skills that he'd picked up over the years, finding a natural knack within himself for them, had fallen into a bit of disuse since moving to Hope Valley — a turn of events he was ready to remedy.

"Well, let's get back and get that bill of sale and title transfer signed over to you." Bill's face was pleased, a contentedness smiling out at Nathan as they circled their horses around, heading back out the way they'd come in.

"Thanks, Bill. You've been a real friend." Newton's hoof beats reverberated under him in the lulled peace of their surroundings. He paused, then finished quietly, "And not just about this."

"You're my friend," Bill said simply. He reached out, his hand briefly clasping Nathan's shoulder, jostling slightly with the movement of their horses. "And I'm glad you changed your mind about the land, Nathan."

"So am I." Nathan gave him a wry little smile, more a twist of his lips than a real smile, but he knew Bill understood. And it wasn't a lie; he was glad, despite everything — or maybe because of everything. Even Newton seemed to have a little prance to his step out here. Yes, this land, this move, was going to be good for all of them. In more ways than one.

They had almost reached the half-way mark back to town, sometimes talking, sometimes riding in companionable silence, when Nathan caught a flash of silver through the trees that had him pulling up short. He caught Bill's attention with a silent finger point.

Pinkertons. In a clearing. Perhaps three or four of them. Two spoke off to the side — he recognized the hostile, insolent figure of their leader Spurlock — and two others seemed to be wandering through the treeline surrounding the clearing, looking at the ground and occasionally pointing at different spots.

What were Pinkertons doing all the way out here?

In silent unison, both men wheeled their horses towards the clearing. There was an unspoken accord between them. Both wanted to know what the Pinkertons were up to — and both wanted the Pinkertons to know they were being watched.

Ten minutes later, they left with little more information than they'd arrived with, but Nathan's senses were tingling. Spurlock had a calm arrogance towards them that set his teeth on edge. And there was a sly furtiveness to the other three men that had him extra alert in the saddle. Something stank. And Spurlock's bland assurances that they were just taking a break, exploring the area, didn't sit right.

He and Bill exchanged looks as they left the clearing. Behind them was dead silence.

" . . . and if you believe any of that, my horse's name ain't Hero," Bill murmured sotto-voice.

"Mmm." Nathan's agreement was equally soft.

"That gang needs eyes kept on them. Maybe even two sets . . . ?"

Nathan removed his hat as they cantered along, the air ruffling through his hair. "You offering?" He side-eyed the sheriff-turned-gun-toting-judge.

"I could be," Bill said noncommittally.

"Then I could be interested. Another set of eyes would be welcome, as would your keen eye and investigative experience."

"Then I'll see what I can do."

—ooO0Ooo—

The bottle of lamp oil in Nathan's hand sloshed gently to and fro as he approached Ned Yost behind the counter of his mercantile.

Lamp oil. One of the mundane essentials of life as an adult, he thought drily.

Before he could set his purchase down, he was waylaid by a hand on his plaid-covered forearm. Patience McHenry. Mother of one of Allie's classmates and one of the original Coal Valley mine widows. A pretty woman with a head full of soft ringlets and a sweet face. He'd bumped into her several times at the school and she'd never been anything less than gentle towards him.

"You know, if it's lamp oil you're after," she offered helpfully, her eyes smiling up at him, "you might try Henderson's brand instead. I find it burns better — and it's on sale in the front display there."

"I might try that then," Nathan chuckled, only half registering the mercantile's front door opening. "I don't want to be left in the dark unexpectedly."

Her laughter was light in response, and he became acutely aware that her hand still rested on his arm. From the open doorway came a soft little sound, almost as if someone was stifling a choke, and a knowing swept over him. His eyes swung up.

They met a pair of wide-lashed eyes, very blue and very strained, eyes he'd know anywhere. A shadow passed over his face and he sobered instantly.

Elizabeth was in the doorway, her silky hair caught up off her neck in the unexpectedly muggy heat of the afternoon. In a simple green skirt and a soft grey shirtwaist, hers was a slim outline against the outdoor backdrop. Perhaps a bit slimmer than he remembered. Her face, too, looked less full than he remembered, but these were all just flashes, impressions, of the reality that was Elizabeth standing squarely in front of him.

Her face was frozen, only her eyes were alive, huge with something he couldn't be certain of as she stared at him with Patience.

He became starkly aware of how the tableau must look to her, to Ned Yost waiting behind his register, to Florence at the switchboard behind them, of the sense of hushed waiting that had fallen over the whole shop.

The delicate earrings dangling from Elizabeth's ears trembled like birds trapped, fluttering helplessly in a windstorm.

The sight jarred him. He lowered his arm, just far enough, easing it from under the widow's hand.

"Thank you, Mrs. McHenry," he said slowly, but his eyes were still caught inside those of a different widow. "I'll have to try a can of Henderson's. Appreciate the tip."

"Of course." Dimly, he registered Patience McHenry's murmur and then she melted somewhere into the background behind him.

Ned was hovering like a nervous papa hen, his concerned eyes darting back and forth between the casually clothed Mountie at his counter and the Mountie widow in his doorway.

"I, ah, I'll be right with you, Mrs. Thornton," he called loudly, as if to dispel the tenseness with sheer volume.

"I'll just get that can of Henderson's, Ned," Nathan spoke up softly. His boots sounded unnaturally loud as he walked the few paces to the display at the front of the store, each step feeling like continents were crossed.

Elizabeth saw him coming and stepped to the side, as if trying to avoid any contact with him. Nathan stopped directly in front of her, seeing her sway back ever so slightly, her eyes still pinned to his. In them, he read an almost agitated, searching emotion. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was a look of surprise and creeping upset, almost accusatory around the fringes.

He reached around her, his hand passing alongside her head, and an errant strand of her hair drifted down to brush his fingers. Just once.

"Excuse me," he said softly, pulling his hand back and lifting the can of oil in silent explanation before her. In her attempt to avoid him, she'd inadvertently stepped directly in front of the display he was headed straight for. The irony of it was not lost on either of them.

He stepped back, giving them both space. Her lids dropped, hiding her gaze from him, but they seemed to quiver against her pale cheeks.

"Elizabeth." His murmur was the vocal equivalent of a hat tip good-bye.

At the sound of her name from his lips, her shoulders jerked under the fine grey linen that covered them and those eyes of hers flew up to his. Startled, both by her reaction and by the wan pallor of her face, his brows drew into a sharp "v".

"I'll just check you out over here then, Nathan," Ned Yost's voice intruded, interrupting the moment from across the room.

Nathan's footsteps were reluctant as he quietly backed away from Elizabeth, not wanting to draw any more attention, but concerned now as his trained eyes took fresh note of her altered appearance. How had he missed these changes in her?

You've barely seen her of late, his memory reminded him.

"That'll be five cents, Nathan."

There was a clatter of coins in Ned's till, then his voice wishing Nathan a good afternoon. Nathan heard it all dimly, his focus elsewhere.

His eyes, discreetly, found Elizabeth as he moved to exit the cinnamon-scented store. She hadn't gone far from the display of lamp oil. His eyes noted the rigid lines of the back and shoulders she presented to him as she fumbled blindly with onions on display in a wicker basket. Unobtrusively, he slowly stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

The noise of the street filled his ears instantly, but he paused, somewhat grimly wondering if there would ever again be a time when he would feel free to ask her what was wrong.

That day felt a very, very long way off indeed.

—ooO0Ooo—

"Your WIFE is dead?!"

Nathan shook his head as if to clear his ears, not sure he'd heard right. "Bill? Wife?"

Bill's hand, still holding the phone down into its cradle, shook ever so slightly, and for a minute Nathan thought the phone might break under the pressure he was exerting on it.

"Yes. My wife. Nora." Bill's voice was not entirely steady when he finally spoke. "It's an old story and a long one, and not necessarily happy, which is why I never mentioned it. But I have a wife. And apparently, she . . . died."

Nathan came around the desk fast, and unceremoniously pushed Bill into a chair, ignoring the little groan of protest the chair gave at its treatment. He'd never seen his friend's face so white. His hand reached for a key he kept hidden, then inserted it into the bottom drawer of his desk which he kept locked. This called for something stronger than coffee.

Whiskey splashed into one of the two glass tumblers he kept beside the bottle, amber liquid filling a finger's depth along the bottom of the glass. He shoved the glass into Bill's hand, forcibly wrapping his unresisting fingers around it.

"Here. Drink, Bill. You've had quite a shock."

"Yes." Bill shook his head as if dazed. "It's just hard to comprehend. We hadn't been in touch for some time, but I had no reason to think she was ill. And we have"—he paused—"had plenty of years left in us, so I just . . . " He trailed off, staring blankly down into the whiskey whose surface rippled in his jittery hand.

Leaning his uniformed hips against the desk, arms crossed attentively over his chest as he listened, Nathan reached out and nudged Bill's foot with his boot. "Drink, Bill," he prodded softly. "You'll feel better. It's bracing."

His hand still not quite steady, Bill tossed the whiskey back, closing his eyes against the burn. When he opened them, they were clearer, if a bit bloodshot in the corners.

"You're right." His head nod was grateful. "I'm better."

"You're sure it was an illness that took her?"

A weary shrug. "Not positive, no." His finger tapped the side of the glass in slow staccato. "But I can't imagine what else it could have been. I'll find out soon enough."

Nathan rubbed a slow hand along his jaw, looking thoughtfully at the other man. "You headed to San Francisco, then?"

"I have to. She's my wife," he said simply. His hand tightened round the empty glass. "The phone call was cryptic; some fancy lawyer who just said her will stated I was to be notified when she died."

Nathan glanced out the window, seeing the rich colors of the lowering sun reflected in its panes. "Taking the morning coach out?"

Bill leaned forward to set the glass on top the desk, shaking his head. "I'll take Hero and ride to Carlisle tonight, catch the late train from there. It'll get me to San Francisco faster."

"Go, Bill. And don't worry about anything here."

Bill nodded and rose to his feet, buttoning his brown corduroy vest closed with one hand. "Thanks, Nathan. I'd best toss a few things in my bag before I hit the road."

"Good luck, Bill." They shook hands and Nathan was glad to feel that his friend's hand was steadier now. "Safe travels."

"I'll give you a ring when I get there." Bill grabbed his weathered coat from a hook on the wall near the door and shrugged into it.

"Bill?"

The town judge turned back.

"My condolences." Nathan's voice was low. "I'm sorry about your wife."

Bill went silent, then dropped his head and swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "Thanks, Nathan." His voice was husky with unspoken emotion.

Their eyes met in silent understanding, then he slipped out the door. Nathan heard his footsteps fading outside and closed his eyes, sending up a firm prayer for his friend's shaken new reality.

—ooO0Ooo—

The dusk enveloped Nathan, cloaking the normally busy main street into shadowy envelopes of emptiness that tucked themselves into nooks and crannies, skirting the edges of the road in darkness. The street was void of human life, save for himself. The wooden slats of the boardwalk creaked gently underfoot as he walked along them, passing in front of the local saloon, which had been named the Queen of Hearts by its owner, Lucas Bouchard.

He glanced at the saloon windows as he passed, only half-looking really, his mind on other things. His brain caught up with his vision and he halted, slowly backing up to take a second look through the window, drapes still pulled back despite the hour, exposing the interior. A scattered handful of customers dotted the room, but his eyes trained themselves on what had initially snagged his attention.

One dark head of sleek waves, caught back into a tidy chignon with a burgundy velvet ribbon, and another, with a thick head of shorter, clipped dark strands, were bent over a table. Side by side, but spaced apart with an empty chair between them, engrossed in big sheets of diagrams on the table before them. Two wine glasses, barely touched, sat unnoticed in front of each, so intent were they on their conversation. Their hands, each moving to point at the same spot on a diagram, bumped into each other, and even from outside the window, Nathan didn't miss the composed manner in which the girl discreetly pulled her hand back or the inscrutable look the man shot the girl from under lowered lids.

Fiona Miller, it seemed, was fast becoming a valuable asset to Lucas Bouchard's business ventures.

A quick glance around the rest of the interior showed nothing amiss, so Nathan continued on his way. After Bill had left, he'd made his last round of the day, before heading back to their rowhouse to make dinner with Allie and get changed into something more comfortable. Allie was over the moon about the new property, immediately pestering him to take her to see it, soon. One last bit of paperwork called him though and he'd found himself heading back into the office where he'd worked until his mind wearied and he needed something lighter to wind down with. Hence, his current trek to the town library to find a volume for the night's reading. With a fresh supply of lamp oil, he was set for many hours of reading by the steady flame of his bedside oil light.

Just a few feet ahead now, the lantern outside the library door beckoned with a glowing warmth and he picked up his pace. The door was undoubtedly locked at this time of night, but all the regular patrons knew exactly where the key was kept, precisely for situations like this. But his searching fingers met nothing except emptiness when they explored the hiding spot.

His senses alerted. Had someone forgotten to put the key back, or . . . ?

He tried the knob. It turned without resistance. Frowning, he placed his other hand on the edge of the door and pushed inward. But as the door gave way and his fingers curled around its frame, they found themselves brushing against flesh, cold — too cold — but soft, and he started, biting back an exclamation.

A breath. Then his name, whispered in shaky shock from the darkened interior on the other side of the doorway.

Elizabeth. Barely two feet in front of him, her hand frozen against his on the door, where she had been pulling the door open from the inside just as Nathan's hand had been pushing it in from the outside.

"I-I just t-turned the light off," she blurted from out of nowhere, her tongue seeming to stumble against the words.

That explained why he'd seen no lights from the outside, though the curtains were not drawn.

He stared down at her. Her face was a shadowy oval in the darkness, the light from the exterior lantern not quite reaching her, recessed as she was, the door still half-hiding her. He wanted to catch her by the waist, wanted to pull her out into the light, into the warm glow the lantern offered.

Instead, he took one slow step back. She took a slower step forward. Progress.

He examined her with quick eyes. The warm light cast by the lantern fell around them in a pool, softening sharpness, lightening darkness. It gentled her features. But he had seen the the cheekbones that were too sharp, the puddles of grey that were too dark under her eyes, the wrists that were too delicate.

"You don't look well." Low and measured, his voice filled the space between them.

The words hung in the air, balancing like an acrobat on a high wire. One wrong step too far to one side or the other, and they would come crashing down.

Elizabeth stiffened. "I'm fine." Her neck was a rigid line, muscles taut.

"Elizabeth . . . "

There it was again — that flaring in her eyes when he said her name.

She spoke before he could say more, her shoulders set. "I saw Dr. Carter. I'm fine."

She may have seen Faith, but she wasn't fine. Anyone with two eyes could see that. And her hand had felt like ice.

His jaw was tight, but he schooled his facial features into a flat mask. "I'm just heading in" — he tipped his head towards the library's darkened interior — "to get a book. Been a long day out at Bill's land and I —"

"Bill's land!?" she echoed in consternation, interrupting his words. He could see the shock freeze her face. He wondered if she, like he, was remembering the last time Bill's land had been mentioned between them. By the cloudiness swimming through her eyes, he'd bet his life she was.

"Yes. I decided to go ahead with the purchase," he said simply. "We signed the papers today."

Her breathing became agitated, those cold fingers clenching around the spine of the book she'd brought out. "Oh," was all she managed to choke out.

His eyes narrowed. But from somewhere in the distance behind them, voices were suddenly heard spilling out onto the street as their owners exited the saloon; a man's deeper tones responding to the lighter tones of a woman. Lucas and Fiona. Elizabeth spared not a single glance toward the sudden interruption, her simmering, conflicted gaze wrapped tightly inside his. She seemed to be on the brink of something, he could almost see that there were words bursting to be freed from the confines she exerted so much energy to keep them behind.

Frustration and empathy welled up side-by-side within him, and he yearned to shake her from her constraint, to hear those words that he knew surged against her to be released. He needed to hear them. The wait to finally, finally hear truth from her was a physical ache in his soul. Yet still, always, he waited.

But those words remained where they were, caged behind her eyes, behind her still lips, and Nathan's lips compressed in turn as he fought his frustration. Lightning-fast, he sent up a prayer for patience, and just as swiftly felt a wave of calm flow back down to him, almost as if God were saying Be at peace, my son.

"I'll let you get on home. Be careful walking back." He moved to step around her into the library, his sleeve brushing against hers. He could feel the way she stiffened, then without warning rounded on him.

"I don't need you trying to protect me anymore!" she lashed out at him, eyes flashing. "I told you!"

Ire flared up in him, hot as lava. He grappled with it, trying without avail to tamp down on the fierceness of his reaction. The peace of seconds before was a thing of the past. What had been a harmless remark had been weaponized in the blink of an eye.

He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling. When he finally spoke, after letting her wait in silence for a good long minute, his voice was deadly calm. "Elizabeth Thornton, that was a remark I'd make to any one of my town's citizens. And what's more — you know it." Flinty as steel, his gaze bore down into hers. "Now, good night."

And with that, he left her tumultuous eyes and taut figure behind him and stepped into the library, closing the door against her.

— ooO0Ooo —

But from outside, the taut figure did not leave, although its taut lines slowly fell away and a drooping took hold. She lingered, watching from the shadows as the room brightened from darkness, filling with a pool of soft light as the tall man inside lit the kerosene lantern that was on the table in the middle of the room. His shadow wavered against the wall, but Elizabeth's eyes stayed fixed on the man himself. He stood, hands clenched like iron around the seat back of the chair in front of him. His head, at first bowed, lifted, and she followed his line of sight across the table and up to the wall behind it where a wooden plaque hung.

"Always do what you're afraid to do."

The words carved into the wood by the hands of the man who now stood gazing at them, seemed to mock her and she flinched, remembering the moment he found her in her schoolhouse, soft light filtering around him in the doorway, before he morphed into solid reality as he crossed the space between them, smiling at baby Jack in her arms, presenting the plaque to her as a gift. She could still see her son's tiny little fingers reach out to meet the lean, muscled fingers of the sun-browned Mountie who slid into baby talk and sweet smiles that turned his eyes to blue joy the moment her son gurgled at him.

Her heart clenched sickly at the contrast between that moment and this one. How had they gotten to this point? She shied away from that, her eyes falling heavily over the strong line his shoulders made, tracing the back of his head . . .

A longing pushed against the iciness of her heart. Part of her yearned to throw the door open, to join the warmth inside, to tell him . . . what? That she was sorry? That hearing that he'd bought the land that she thought he'd only intended to purchase if —

Overwhelmed, distraught, her book nearly fell from her grasp and she scrambled to catch it before it hit the boardwalk.

Nathan must have heard something and he turned, his eyes shooting to the window. With a strangled gasp, she shrank back in horror, then, panicked, wheeled about and gathering her skirts in one hand, began to run as fast and silently as she could down the fast-darkening street towards home and the safety and comfort of her son. The cooling air of the autumn evening rushed by her, filling her ears. Her eyes never even registered the car parked within the splay of light thrown by the open doors of the saloon or the two people standing alongside it, facing each other in quiet conversation. She didn't catch the tall figure of Lucas, suit coat tossed over his arm, turn toward her in surprise, or the soft, questioning voice of Fiona as she barreled by the car unseeing, unhearing, blinded and deafened by tears of silence.

Her skirts slipped out of her hand and she staggered, nearly tripping over them in her haste, righting herself only with difficulty. Thoughts of Nathan tumbled through her in a wild waterfall of memories.

Nathan's bowed shoulders in the library, Nathan at the log that day alongside the trail, the joy and warmth of the sun in his eyes and in his smile, telling her about Bill's land, Nathan so shortly afterwards telling her I love you, I'm in love with you, Elizabeth, Nathan's voice outside the library as his eyes iced over with iron and he told her a harsh truth she had been too upset to acknowledge . . .

Panting wildly, struggling to get oxygen into her starved lungs, hair bedraggled and falling from its confining pins, she finally reached her home after a distance that seemed to go on forever, legs shaking with nervous exertion and Nathan Grant still filling her memory with the far-flinging reach of his ocean eyes. She clung to the knob of her front door, striving for control before she faced Laura, waiting inside.

From the house next door, a curtain twitched, a shadow moving behind it, and galvanized by the sight, Elizabeth threw open her front door and almost staggered inside in her haste. She could not face Rosemary. Not tonight.

Not yet.

—ooO0Ooo—

Author's Note: Yikes. You guys! I am so sorry it's taken me so long to write this chapter. But I *labored* over this chapter. For some reason, it was a tough one for me to write. It gave me issues. This one didn't come easy, but I hope it read okay anyway. ;) And yesssssssssssssssssss, NATHAN BOUGHT BILL'S HEART-SHAPED PARCEL OF LAND! Sorry for internet "shouting" (LOL!), but it bugged me to death that they had him back out of purchasing that land, so I'm rectifying that in my story. I have big plans for Nathan and that land. ;)
There's been a number of new follow-ers / fave-ers of this story since my last update, and I'd like to extend a warm, personal thank you to each and every one of you. Welcome! I hope you enjoy the story and feel free to let me know what you think.

My Anonymous Guest Reviewers: I keep saying it, but I sincerely mean it: I wish I had a way to thank you personally, but barring that, please know that you are heard and appreciated — so much. Thank you! The "Guest" from Aug. 17th asked a question and I'd like to answer: She went away from Nathan, but did not follow Rosemary. :)
Thistle and Reed: Heyyyyyyy, you! Welcome! So glad you joined us from my When Hope Calls fic! Love all my Team Nathan/Team Sam girls. ;) Yep! Nathan's finally going to make his appearance in that WHC fic (he'll be featured pretty strongly in the next couple chapters, fyi. ;) So glad you're liking this story here, too. And yuppers! This story and my When Hope Calls fic will be dovetailing with each other in the future. I'll leave it at that. :D
Hopefully Hearti: Thank you so much! Yes, it may be QUITE a journey to get there, but please know that in my stories Elizabeth will always end up with Nathan. Right where she belongs. :)
Husskai: Yay! Another fan of angst and tension! LOL! Oh, thank you for answering my query about Gunner, really appreciate it. I like him, too. ;) And you're welcome for Lucas & Fiona. Another glimpse or two of them in this chapter! "Boring & eye-rolling" is my reaction to Lukie/Lizzie also (among other reactions). You're right: N&E were definitely planned, something changed. I hope TPTB's "haughty arrogance & victim act" backfire on them. Well put; love your wording! We're twinning on that topic, believe you me. Also, I see you're a new fan of my When Hope Calls story — thank you so much for the follow and wonderful review! That made me very happy.
belindaross7: TY for answering about Gunner and it makes me all smiles that you liked him here. He'll be back. ;) Pride does indeed go before the fall. E needs to earn some lessons and if she has to be miserable while she learns them, well . . .
Rockchelle99: Welcome back! I totally get it; life gets busy! My story will always be here when you're ready. I love writing back to you guys; it is I who owe you all a thank you for reading my work and sharing your thoughts with me. Since you love Bill and Nathan's friendship, and like Lucas/Fiona, I hope you liked the touches of them in this chap. Let me know! I'm happy you liked Gunner. He'll be back! ;) Also, I'm relieved to hear that my version of Rosemary is resonating!
Dez284: Awww, gosh, that made me smile so big. Thank you! And you said it! E was 100% set to be the lifetime love of and for Nathan Grant, not for the bland, boring character they made Lucas into. We're of one mind on that, you and I.
purplesinger56: More frequent updates — gosh, I'd love to. And I would if I could, believe me. But I write sometimes slowly and sometimes fast, and edit many times, so it can be a bit of time before I'm able to update sometimes. But I do update as fast as life (and writing) allows. Thank you for sticking with me. Means the world. And thank you also for your heartfelt words about my writing. I was touched. Made me happy! :)
Elle018: I'm half-exasperated with E just writing her in this state, LOL, so I totally get ya there.
BeccaKay64: Yes! Bugged the heck out of me, too! Elizabeth and REAL apologies just didn't seem to be compatible in the minds of those who thought she walked on water. But I'm going to be having E fix things with several people by apologies and efforts. She needs to.
SaSeLi777: Such beautiful words in your review! I thank you for them. You're so right about God's "lights" for us and how we can be blind until we choose to see and use them as He wishes. I'm so glad you liked the "God part" (that sounds odd, but you know what I mean, lol) in chapter 5. And I loved that you caught how E refused to use N's name even in her prayers. Thank you for touching on all that in your review. I'm determined to keep RM doing exactly what you described, and I'm still upset at her lack of action on these fronts during the show. So out of character . . . like so much else in S8.
Missela: hahaha! "A new disease called Nathan Grant" — yep! Loved that! That made me chuckle. And no indeed, she couldn't bring herself to reveal that to Faith. I'm glad you liked Gunner's return! He'll be back. ;) And the slivers of Nathan got bigger in this chapter. :)
heather4cu: Yup, Faith saw a lot more than E intended her to, and so does RM . . . E needed people like that and the show never gave it. So I'm trying to remedy that here . . . don't know if I'm succeeding — but I'm trying! LOL
elizabethB88: I'm so glad you liked the section from God's point of view. I was hoping it would work, and based on a few comments received, I think (hope!) it did. I loved reading your commentary about God's lights and our blinders. Profound and true observation, my friend. Thank you. Yes! Gunner's baaaaaack! :) There'll be more on him and the young doctor with a newfound seriousness in her eyes, promise. ;) Yes, writing RM & E this way is tough, but I'm kind of enjoying it, funny enough. Cathartic, maybe? TY so much for leaving your thoughtful words, girl.