Another day, another short, and perhaps after this one you'll have figured out what we're doing this week! Just a few more days!

Enjoy!

Tuesdays were for ironing.

Growing up in the household that she did, Elizabeth Thornton never had a need to iron her own clothing, although she often felt guilty sending her garments with her maid when she could have easily handled them herself, should someone have taught her how to properly iron, that is.

Needless to say, after her arrival in Hope Valley, that all changed, and with some help from Abigail she quickly became a master of finishing her weekly ironing. In fact, it was one of her favorite days of the week, relishing in the methodic act of pressing out creases, soothing her mind in the process.

Today, however, she found that even ironing did little to settle her.

It hadn't been a bad day, not really. Just one filled with minor inconveniences that, as they piled up, started to feel like big ones. Like stepping in a puddle on her way to the schoolhouse, a piece of chalk breaking in the middle of a lesson, or the way the wrinkles on one of Jack's shirts just wouldn't come out. Mind you, her current chore was just one of many responsibilities that had lately fallen onto her shoulders, and one look around the house felt like a reminder of all the things she still had to get done.

A glance at the clock on her shelf told Elizabeth that the evening was creeping closer, meaning Lucas would soon arrive for their evening meal together. Rosemary and Lee had taken Jack for the day, so Lucas had insisted that they use the free evening to spend some extra time together, and as much as she knew she'd been looking forward to it all week, she knew he had been basically counting down the minutes.

Hope Valley had kept Lucas more than busy as of late, and it was easy for her to see the exhaustion evident in his eyes, not to mention the dark circles just below them. He needed a night off, to just relax and enjoy some time with the woman he loves, which is why he could not find her in a sour mood.

Suddenly, the smell of burnt fabric surrounded her, and Elizabeth was brought back to reality, quickly pulling the iron off of the now blackened shirt in front of her. At least it was one that was already beginning to fit tightly on Jack, who seemed to be growing faster than she might like.

Lucas happened to pick that exact moment to walk through the door, a slightly concerned look furrowing his brow as he entered. "What happened?" he asked, hurrying toward her without even taking off his coat.

Immediately, Elizabeth's expression changed, a slight smile appearing on her face. "Oh nothing. I just got distracted thinking about my book reading and well, I suppose I'll have to get Jack a new shirt. I'm almost finished though and then we can go have dinner."

"It's natural to be nervous, you know," he reassured her, pulling his coat off his shoulders and draping it over the nearby chair. "I remember sitting in on more than a few book readings for first time authors as a child, and they always looked like they were ready to bolt."

Relieved that he seemingly hadn't picked up on her actual concerns, Elizabeth let her shoulders relax, setting down the iron as she pulled the shirt off the board. "I wouldn't say I'm nervous. Maybe excited," she continued, setting the shirt to the side and grabbing a new one. "Alright, perhaps I'm a little bit nervous."

He stepped into her space to give her a light kiss on the lips. "I'll be by your side the whole time."

"I know," she breathed out, but her iron hit the board a little harder than intended, frustration still pouring out through her actions. When she looked up at him again, he was still studying her, a hand running over his beard. "What?"

"What else is bothering you?"

Panic rose in her throat. This night was supposed to be about him relaxing, not her, and now the ironing had given her away.

"Nothing," she replied plainly, resuming her motions, but more gentle this time.

His hand fell over hers on the handle, halting her movement and pulling the iron off the shirt she was pressing. He led her to set it down on the counter and encouraged her to turn toward him. "Something's wrong."

"It's nothing, Lucas. Look, let me just finish this last shirt and then we can have a relaxing evening and…"

He cut her off with a kiss, pouring emotion into it as his hands moved to cradle her head. "Elizabeth, what's going on?" he asked again when they finally drifted apart.

Elizabeth's shoulders sagged, "I'm just in my own head today, that's all." A slight understatement, but perhaps it would convince him. "I suppose this shirt can wait, and we can go into town now if you'd like. I'll finish the rest of the chores when I get home."

"We aren't going into town," he replied.

"What do you mean? I thought we were going to the saloon?"

He moved away, taking off his suit jacket as well and began to roll his sleeves up to his elbows. "We're going to make dinner here, and then I'm going to help you with whatever you need me to."

"Lucas, I don't need you to do that. You're exhausted as it is."

He held her hands in his own, thumbs running over the back of them. "I want to do it. And you know, if we work together, I'm sure we can have everything accomplished sooner rather than later and then you can repay with a nice evening stroll outside. Now, what can I help with?"

She was about to argue, but knew better than to try. When Lucas Bouchard was set on something, there usually was little that could change his mind. With a shake of her head, Elizabeth instructed him on tidying the house as she resumed the last of her ironing.

And hours later, long after books had been returned to shelves, dishes had been washed, and she made her way back down the stairs from carefully placing freshly pressed garments into drawers, she found him on her settee, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. Quietly, she took a blanket from the back of a nearby chair and was about to drape it over him when he blinked up at her, reaching out until she accepted his hand.

Elizabeth settled against him, Lucas shifting to wrap an arm around her shoulders, covering their laps with the blanket. "I'm sorry this evening didn't turn out quite the way we planned," she whispered to him, and she felt him press a kiss against her hairline.

"It doesn't matter to me what we do, Sweetheart," he whispered back. "I'm happy as long as I get to do it with you."

And as she let her own eyes drift closed, she couldn't agree more.