Hope Valley, March 1915

Elizabeth Thatcher tried to keep busy. If her mind was occupied, it didn't constantly stray to the tension and violence in the Northern Territories, where even now her beloved fiancé fought for freedom and safety. The headlines screaming from the district newspaper did nothing to calm her anxiety. Compounding her fear was the fact that she hadn't had a letter from Jack in over a month. They faithfully wrote to each other every week. His lack of correspondence of late rolled her stomach into knots of dread.

"Maybe he's just been busy." That was the refrain Abigail Stanton and Rosemary Coulter kept telling her. Elizabeth wanted to believe that. She needed to believe that. But deep down, she knew something was wrong. If he was busy, Jack still would have sent a short letter letting her know not to worry.

Something had happened to him. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew.

Her hands shook as she erased the lesson of the day in her classroom. A growing sense of fear crashed over her. Unable to fight it, her eyes welled up with tears. She collapsed into her chair, sobs shaking her body. Once her tears were spent, she jumped up, fleeing the classroom. She ran until she burst through the kitchen door of Abigail's Café. Her friend looked up from the stove, where she was stirring something fragrant and savory. Abigail dropped the wooden spoon in her hand and rushed to Elizabeth.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, concern in her eyes. "Did something happen?"

Elizabeth shook her head, unable to stop crying. She buried her face into Abigail's shoulder, holding onto her like a child to her mother. Abigail let her cry, running a soothing hand up and down Elizabeth's back.

"Abigail," she wailed. "He's not coming home, is he?"

Her friend led her to a settee. "Shh, don't talk like that," Abigail said, wiping the tears from Elizabeth's cheeks. "We don't know for sure that anything happened to Jack." Though Abigail's voice was calm, there was a look in her eyes that confirmed Elizabeth's fear.

"You think something bad happened too." It wasn't a question. It was a fact.

Abigail hesitated. Her eyes closed and her throat worked. That was all Elizabeth needed to see. She broke down again. Abigail held her, helpless to provide comfort.

A strange sound met their ears. Before Elizabeth could determine its source, Clara Stanton burst into the kitchen. "Elizabeth, you should come see this!"

Exchanging a look with Abigail, Elizabeth stood and followed Clara out the café door. Her mouth dropped as she took in a regiment of Mounties marching through town. They looked tired and travel-worn, but they marched with pride. Her eyes began scanning the line for Jack. Slow hope built inside. Surely, if a group of Mounties was coming through Hope Valley, he would be with them.

She rushed forward, calling his name, searching the sea of red. When she didn't catch a glimpse of him, she ran alongside one of the men. "What's happening?" she asked breathlessly.

He turned his gaze on her as he kept marching. "The Northern Territories are secure, ma'am. Our men are coming home."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, elation filling her. No more fighting? It was an answer to her prayers. She picked up her pace again, looking to another Mountie for answers. "Have you seen Constable Jack Thornton?"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's no one by that name in this regiment."

Her hope collapsed as quickly as it had formed. Stumbling back, she felt a strong pair of hands rest on her shoulders. Glancing up, she saw Bill Avery standing behind her. He gave her a sympathetic look. "I was hoping he'd be with them too," he said quietly.

Elizabeth reached up, resting her hand over one of his and clinging tightly. She had no more words. Her emotions felt like they were swinging on a pendulum.

It had been over a year since Jack left for the Northern Territories. Elizabeth had lived in constant worry as she waited for him to come home. She'd only seen him once in that year, when he had visited at Christmas.

The waiting was the worst part. The unknown, the worry, the anxiety. Every newspaper article she read, every report of conflict in the north, every list of men who would never make it home increased the turbulent emotions inside of her. The fight was now over, but Jack was not home.

Once again, she resigned herself to wait.

A week later, Elizabeth allowed Abigail to talk her into a stroll through town after school. Abigail kept up a steady stream of chatter, but Elizabeth barely heard her. Her mind, as always, was on Jack. No one had come to bring news of his death. Elizabeth tried to convince herself that was a good thing. But if he was alive, why hadn't he come home? Was he injured?

"Elizabeth?"

Abigail's gentle nudge broke through Elizabeth's haze. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'm a million miles away."

"I understand," Abigail said, her voice solemn. "I know how hard the waiting is, Elizabeth. What you're going through right now is extremely difficult."

Elizabeth turned to face her friend. "How did you do it?" she asked, her heart aching. "How did you wait those long days to find out whether Noah survived the mine collapse?"

Abigail sighed. "I took it one day at a time," she said, her voice soft. "That's all I could do." She wrapped an arm around Elizabeth. "That's all you can do."

Nodding, Elizabeth leaned into Abigail's strength. While the waiting was hard, she was thankful for the support of friends around her.

As the two women headed back to the café, the stagecoach passed by. They waited until it was out of their path, then made their way to the door. Elizabeth turned, glancing at the passengers disembarking from the coach. She froze.

Charlotte Thornton climbed down, looking haggard and weary. Their eyes locked. The expression on Charlotte's face told Elizabeth exactly why she had come to Hope Valley.

Time came to a standstill. The breath whooshed from her lungs. Agony burned inside, grief welling up like a flood. "No," she whimpered. "No, no, no, no!"

She heard Abigail say something, but her grief-stricken mind wouldn't process it. Elizabeth fell to the ground, sobbing. Life as she knew it was over.

Jack was gone.

It had taken the Mounties some time to track down Charlotte Thornton. As next of kin, she was the first to be notified of her son's death. When the Mounties finally caught up to her, she asked to be the one to deliver the news to Elizabeth. Knowing what it was like to hear about the death of a loved one, she wanted the information to come from a familiar face rather than a stranger.

Jack had been killed in an ambush on February 12. All but two of the men in his unit had been slain. The two survivors had been taken to a hospital to recover from their injuries. Jack's embalmed body would soon arrive in Hope Valley for burial.

Though she'd had nearly two days to process the information, Elizabeth felt nothing but numb. She felt like she was walking through thick clouds, unable to see the sun. Her entire body hurt without physical pain. The joy had been sucked from her life in one terrible, hopeless moment.

She knew she would never be the same.

The day of Jack's funeral dawned bright and sunny, as if in mockery of her grief. Elizabeth stared out the window of her rowhouse, glaring at the sky. Not a single cloud marred the blue expanse. How could the day be so beautiful when something so ugly had happened? Elizabeth fought back tears, knowing she would shed plenty in the coming hours.

Charlotte came down from the guest room. She took one look at Elizabeth and held out her arms. Elizabeth accepted the comfort offered from the woman who was supposed to be her mother-in-law. She hadn't seen Charlotte shed a single tear, though she knew the older woman was grieving deeply. They were united in their sadness over losing Jack.

Elizabeth couldn't make sense of it. One month. He'd been killed one month before the conflict ended. He'd been so close to coming home to her. They would have been able to pick up where they left off. They would have begun planning their wedding, preparing for their lives together. Instead, all their dreams were being buried along with Jack.

Charlotte pulled back, gripping Elizabeth's shoulders. She looked directly into her eyes. "One moment at a time, Lizzie," she said, her voice rough with emotion. "That's all anyone can ask of us."

Tears stinging her eyes, Elizabeth nodded jerkily. "I need to dress for the funeral," she said, the words sounding foreign to her ears.

The rest of the day passed in slow motion, yet possessed a sharp clarity. Elizabeth went through all the motions she was meant to, desperate to hold herself together. But when the community of Hope Valley gathered in the small cemetery outside of town, when she watched pallbearers carry the casket toward the freshly-dug grave, Elizabeth lost control. Deep sobs shook her, one after another. Her throat burned from her cries, but she hardly noticed.

Despite shedding tears of her own, Abigail wrapped an arm around Elizabeth, holding her close. Charlotte took hold of her hand on the other side. The preacher finished his words of comfort, and the Mounties stepped forward to give their fallen hero a twenty-one gun salute. Every echo of the guns made Elizabeth wince. She knew it was meant to honor Jack, but she couldn't help picturing his final moments, shot by enemy bullets in the North. Her tears came harder, images crowding her mind that only added to her horrible grief.

One by one, people began to take their leave. Everyone had a hug and a sympathetic word for Elizabeth and Charlotte. Elizabeth didn't know how Charlotte managed with such grace. Though her face was lined with suffering, she was able to smile at those offering what comfort they could. Elizabeth could barely raise her eyes to whoever stopped in front of her.

Eventually, only a few people were left. Lee and Rosemary. Abigail and Charlotte. Bill. The men who would lower Jack's casket into the ground and cover it with earth.

Elizabeth wasn't ready for that.

She walked forward blindly, falling to her knees beside the casket. Her arms hung over the smooth, polished wood. She clung to it desperately, not willing to let go.

"Take me with you, Jack," she cried, her heart breaking into a million pieces. "Don't go where I can't follow."

Silence was her only reply.

She wasn't sure how long she cried into the wood, the only barrier between her and the man she loved. She longed to see him again, even in death, but Bill had advised against it.

"He's been dead for over a month, Elizabeth," he'd said gently, sorrow filling his features. "He's been embalmed. Believe me, you do not want to see him like that. It's best to remember him as he was in life, not in death."

A hand rested on her shoulder. Elizabeth didn't have to look up to know it was Charlotte. The older woman crouched beside her. "It's time," she said quietly.

Elizabeth shook her head, clinging harder to the casket. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. Charlotte let her hand run back and forth over Elizabeth's shoulders, giving her a few more precious minutes with Jack. Finally, spent and exhausted, Elizabeth nodded. Charlotte helped her stand. Abigail stepped forward, handing a single red rose to Jack's mother.

Now that the moment had come, Elizabeth wasn't sure she could go through with it. She looked down at her left hand, where Jack's ring sparkled in the sunlight. It was his grandmother's ring. She'd asked Charlotte if she would like it back, thinking Tom Thornton might one day want it for his future wife. Charlotte had been quiet, reflective, before shaking her head. "What if we bury it with Jack?" she suggested. "You and I both wore that ring, and we both lost our loves before their time." She sighed. "This time, you lost your first love and I lost my first born. If the ring is buried with him, it's like a part of us will be with him forever." She was quiet for a long time, uncertainty in her eyes. "Does that sound sappy?"

Elizabeth thought it a good idea and agreed. But now that the moment had come, she wondered if she could actually take off Jack's ring. Doing so would feel entirely too final.

Charlotte stood beside her, patiently waiting. Elizabeth turned the ring back and forth on her finger. It had rested there for a year, ever since Jack rode away to the Northern Territories. The ring symbolized his promise to her, but it also symbolized his departure. She'd sometimes wondered over the past year if Jack would have proposed when he did if he wasn't leaving. They'd been so insistent on taking things slow, thinking they had all the time in the world.

Time that had come to an abrupt end.

Slowly, Elizabeth pulled the ring from her finger. Her hands shook so much, she almost dropped the small piece of jewelry. Charlotte placed a hand on her back, offering the rose. Elizabeth took it. As planned, she slid the ring onto the stem of the flower, securing it near the top with a piece of black ribbon. Charlotte added her own ribbon after that. Together, the two women placed the precious rose atop the casket.

The finality of the moment crashed over Elizabeth. She trembled, leaning into Charlotte for support. It was time to say goodbye.

If only she knew how.