Surprise! Early update! Fun fact, this is the longest chapter I have ever written.
Read. Review. Enjoy!
*Please notice the rating change.*
When Jack awoke, the first thing that struck him was how very warm he was, and how his breath felt slightly stifled, hitting his upper lip rather than escaping into the ether, as though there were something just in front of his face. His body was tired. His muscles ached in the best way possible. His hazy mind made it difficult to be certain, but he was fairly confident that his whole front was much warmer than his back. He frowned and shuffled a little, starting in surprise when he felt the warm friction of bare skin against his naked chest. His bright hazel eyes shot open and he was blessed with the most beautiful sight he could ever have imagined.
Elizabeth lay next to him, her back curled into his front, sleeping deeply, like a cat curled in front of a fire. He remained still for a moment, grinning when he felt the light tickle of her hair against his face, listening intently to the beautiful sound of her gentle breathing. Jack lifted himself up on an elbow to fully inspect his gorgeous wife. Her russet hair was mussed, Jack noticed with no small hint of self-satisfaction. There were small red spots on her neck and chest, a clear sign of his stubbly face against her creamy skin. Smiling a little wider, Jack let his mind wander.
Abigail had told him often that Elizabeth was not a morning person. Maybe he would always wake before her, and be able to enjoy this little time to simply bask in the beauty of her. His smile then wavered as he remembered that he wouldn't have all that much opportunity to find out. Immediately, he banished the thought from his mind. Not today… they had time, yet.
His gaze reached her face again, utterly perfect in sleep, and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly. His kisses moved along her shoulders as he brushed her hair slowly out of the way, placing an extra kiss on a freckle that he thought irresistible. Her skin was warm under his hand. Jack didn't remember when the gentle caress of his thumb turn into his whole hand pressed flat rubbing smoothly over her waist. As he continued to nestle his face against her shoulder, he slowly became aware of it, of the light friction, the way her skin slipped under his palm.
He was still in awe of everything that had transpired between them. She had given herself to him, in the most precious, intimate way… and he gave himself to her. She had loved him with her body and soul. And Jack, for perhaps the first time in his life, truly understood what it meant to worship someone. He kept on wondering when he would wake up, knowing that this couldn't be real, and yet… He knew that it was. Elizabeth, his own daring, spitfire of a school teacher, the darling, daring woman lying soft and warm and breathing in his arms was his… and by some miracle, he was hers.
Softly, his hand drifted up, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast, then danced over her hip. His fingers trailed smooth curve and back, then lower to her thighs, rubbing over them, painting and tracing indiscernible patterns across the skin he was determined to know as intimately as his own. A little sigh of pleasure escaped him, tickling the back of her neck and she shivered.
He watched in awe as Elizabeth woke up. Her deep blue eyes started as narrow slits, seemingly angry at the sun for interrupting her heavy, pleasant sleep. Jack watched as confusion set into the delicate features of her face. He watched as she remembered the events of yesterday, of who she was with and quickly, so quickly he was surprised she didn't hurt her neck, Elizabeth whipped her head around to look over her shoulder. Jack couldn't contain his laughter at the sight, nor could he stop himself from kissing the confused pout off her lips.
Instantly, Elizabeth was kissing him back. Utterly unable to resist him, even if she was still half asleep, she sucked gently on his lower lip with a soft hum of appreciation, marveling at how soft and sweet his mouth was. It didn't take long, under his tender attentions, for Elizabeth to stir into full consciousness. Jack slowly realized it when he felt her lips part under his, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Without a sound, one of her dainty hands lifted to grasp his cheek, as his arm wrapped warmly over her back and around her waist, pulling her closer.
Too soon for her liking, Jack pulled away. He took Elizabeth's face. Her lips were swollen and desire pooled in her eyes. Dear God, she would be the death of him. What a way to go.
"Good morning, Mrs. Thornton. Did you sleep well?"
Whatever response he was expecting, whatever he thought she would say, could not have prepared him as she sat up, exposing her bare chest to him. Elizabeth moved and sat in his lap, the thin cotton covers pooling around their waists. She was now looking down at him, her soft, velvety hands on either side of his scruffy cheeks.
"Actually, Mr. Thornton," the way she said his name was deliciously wicked and Jack grinned at her impish smile, "I didn't sleep much last night."
Jack feigned ignorance, "Oh really?
"You're very clever, Mr. Thornton," Elizabeth's smiled widened as she began to pepper his face and shoulder with soft, sensual kisses, "I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to me."
"Dear God, Elizabeth," Jack exhaled as Elizabeth began to nibble on his ear, "You'll be the death of me."
He pulled her back up to meet his lips, kissing her as though his life depended on it. She shuffled to lay down as he leaned over her. Elizabeth looked up at her husband. Jack's eyes were clouded with desire, but there, underneath it all was an all-consuming love that took her breath away. His gaze mirrored her own.
Elizabeth smiled brightly, laughing as she kissed Jack again, "Dear God, how did I ever get lucky enough to find you?"
Jack grinned, his handsome dimples on full display, "I wouldn't question it, Elizabeth. Just go with it."
Suddenly, their lips clashed. Their bodies moved together, flush against one another and joined in intimacy beginning their first day as husband and wife as they meant to go on, or so the saying goes. Between them, there hovered an unspoken promise, a declaration of love and loyalty that would never be broken. Their hips rose and fell instinctively in time, every slow, deep thrust magnified by an all-consuming desperation; a newfound release to a long-repressed passion, a burning need to treasure and keep the sensation of every kiss, every gasp, every touch.
Elizabeth clung to Jack, her lips and hands burning across his skin. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Jack shuddered under her touch, "Elizabeth," he said her name like a prayer and Elizabeth decided that it was the most glorious sound she had ever heard. She decided that she would do everything she could to make him do it again. Soft gasps and sighs, the rustle of the sheets around them and the low, rhythmic creak of the sleigh bed as they surrendered their bodies and hearts, broke through the misty morning.
Too soon, in a tender, fierce, loving clash of hips, skin, arms, lips, and sweat… Elizabeth gasped and held tight to Jack's shoulders. A moan attempted to escape her swollen lips. Jack buried his face in her neck, his breath hot and heavy by her ear. "I love you," she whispered over and over again as she held tight to him. Jack clung, shaking, as Elizabeth's fingernails scratched in his scalp, mussing his sweaty hair.
"I love you," he moaned into the delicate shell of her ear. Elizabeth shivered again at the feeling of it and the unmistakable sound of pleasure his words were drenched in. They held tight to one another. Jack eventually lifted up, chancing a glimpse of Elizabeth, rewarded to find a languid, heady smile dancing on her lips.
"How was that," Jack asked, teasing, breathless.
Elizabeth's smile deepened and her eyes closed, "I think you're on the right track."
Jack chuckled, deep in his belly and buried his face back into her flushed neck. Elizabeth giggled and wrapped her slender arms around his broad, strong shoulders….
It was nearly three in the afternoon when they finally dressed. Jack, having moved his clothes and limited possessions into the row house a few days ago, was wearing one of Elizabeth's favorite shirts. Maybe it was the way it fit him so well, maybe it was the fact that he always left two of the three button open, so she could see his sun-kissed skin. Maybe it was the fact that the color made the gray in his hazel eyes pop. Maybe it was the fact that it was what he was wearing during the town's baseball game, watching him work with her students and knowing that he would be a wonderful father one day. Whatever the reason, she loved that shirt, she loved him, and Elizabeth didn't even try to stop the grin forming on her lips from blossoming.
The sun was out and the gentle breeze made for perfect picnic weather. Elizabeth gathered some cold chicken, cheese, and grapes from the icebox, the last few pieces of Abigail's famous apple pie, and a bottle of strawberry cordial that Elizabeth had been saving. She looked over into the living room as Jack pulled a blanket of the Chesterfield sofa and rummaged through the coat closet for the picnic basket. Jack looked up as if he knew she was watching him and gave her a dimpled grin.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The couple jumped at the sound of an angry knock on the door. Jack frowned as Elizabeth walked over to open the door.
William Thatcher stood in front of them, red-faced, breathing deeply, fiercely. He reminded Jack of a bull that his uncle used to have on his ranch. It was wild, untamed and scared the hell out of Jack as a boy. He suddenly felt like that twelve-year-old boy again, though he would never admit it to William Thatcher.
"Elizabeth, what is this nonsense about you and this… this Mountie getting married yesterday?"
Jack felt his throat swell up. Bile collected in his throat. He chanced a look at Elizabeth who seemed eerily calm. Her demeanor only caused him to become more anxious. He wasn't ashamed of what they had done. He could never regret marrying Elizabeth, but he had at least hoped that their families would hear it from them and not some passerby on the street.
Elizabeth broke the silence between the three of them, "It's not nonsense, Father. Jack and I were married yesterday afternoon."
"WHAT?"
Jack could have sworn that the glass in the window panes of the house shook a little. He may have even heard Lee and Rosemary shriek from next door.
"Mr. Thatcher," Jack began, the confidence in his voice betraying the terror that had settled into his bones, "I understand that you are upset, but, sir, there is no need to…"
"NO NEED! SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
"FATHER!"
William ignored his daughter, his gaze burrowing into the man in front of him who stood so calmly and proudly that it made want to vomit, "I am going to end this. This marriage cannot stand. I will not let it stand."
"It can and you will," Jack narrowed his gaze and gritted his teeth, "I understand that you're upset. You have every right to be upset but I do not deserve to be spoken to this way."
"Like hell you don't," William growled, "I told you every damn time you wrote for my blessing that I wouldn't give it. So you just marry my daughter behind my back? Like some thief sneaking around in the middle of the night."
"That is enough!" Elizabeth shouted, drawing her father's and husband's attention, "You will never speak to Jack that way again."
"Elizabeth," William began but Elizabeth refused to let him finish.
"Jack has been assigned to a post in the Northern Territories. I wanted us to be married before he left. He is the one who suggested we wait for you to come around to the idea."
"And why on Earth didn't you wait?"
"Because I knew that I had a better chance of seeing a pig fly."
William's color was beginning to concern Jack. He was about to suggest for the man to take a breath when he turned back to face Jack, fury in his eyes. Instead, he braced himself for another fight.
William pointed an accusing finger at him, "When I am done with you, Thornton…"
"Father, come with me."
Jack and William turned to see Elizabeth putting on her cream fall coat.
"Elizabeth I am in the middle of a conversation with this… this man," William nearly snarled on his last words.
Elizabeth didn't miss a beat. She even seemed annoyed with her father's ill-placed tenacity, "That man is my husband, Father. And before you talk with him, you're coming with me. There are some things I need to show you. You will listen to what I have to say before I let you talk to my husband."
Jack would smile at her brash, unforgiving statement if he knew that it wouldn't cause the vein bulging about from William's beet red face. But there were no guarantees, so Jack kept his mouth shut. If Elizabeth was concerned for her father or for Jack, she didn't show it. She walked over to Jack and kissed him square on the mouth, a shock through his system. He didn't dare reciprocate in front of William Thatcher, who looked like his head may blow off like steam from a kettle.
"We'll be back in a little, Jack. If you could, please put our picnic back in the icebox. I love you."
Jack nodded, unable to say anything except, "I… I love you too."
Elizabeth smiled at that and rewarded him with a small peck on the cheek, 'Come on, Father. We have things to do."
William turned to go with Elizabeth, his glaring eyes never leaving Jack. Jack, ever the cheeky one, waved to William as Elizabeth closed the door behind them.
William Thatcher walked into the church, hot on his daughter's heels, his eyes trained on the floor. The sooner she spoke her peace, the sooner he could convince her to end this charade before it went too far. It would be hard, he knew, for her to leave the small town and the students. But there would be other students, other jobs, and a better-positioned suitor for her to marry. He had good lawyers, they could have this marriage annulled and put to bed before next week's end. Damn, these floors are beautiful, William thought. And then he looked up.
Beautiful, knotty pine and deep brown oak buttresses graced the ceiling. Bright, warm light seeped through the windows that adorned the walls of the open, airy schoolhouse. He walked down the single-aisle, following Elizabeth to a large, simply, yet elegantly carved desk. He marveled at the church pews that obviously could convert into desks; a surprising feet of multipurpose engineering that left William Thatcher speechless.
"Jack built this place," William turned his gaze from the pews to look at his middle daughter. She was looking around the schoolhouse church as well, a daydreamy look on her face, "We were married right where you're standing."
William glanced down at his feet before looking back up at his daughter.
"He received a substantial reward for catching a gang," Elizabeth took a breath as William shoved his hands in his pants pockets, "And instead of keeping it, he bought the supplies and manpower to build this beautiful church.
Elizabeth looked now to her father and though William would never admit it out loud, he suddenly felt as if he was ten years old and being told to put the dunce's cap on for spelling his 'congruent' incorrectly. He looked to Elizabeth, his daughter, standing in front of him with a dogged determination that reminded him so much of her as a child. He suddenly remembered her at age seven, refusing to sit in the parlor and learn to crochet with Viola before running off with Pride & Prejudice to read to Julie in the gardens, surrounded by red roses and yellow daisies. But she wasn't his little girl anymore. There was a fierceness in her gaze, a commanding presence that forced him to realize that this schoolhouse was her domain. This must be what her students feel like. William decided to sit down.
"Jack built this place, not just for me, but for the entire town. He wanted to give the children a place to call there own, where they could hang up art pieces and science projects up instead of being thrown away the next day by someone in the saloon who wanted to play darts. He wanted the town to have a place to come together for church, a quiet, tranquil place to pray and sing."
William swallowed. Something dropped in his stomach, a sense of dread and… dear God, was this remorse? Regret? And suddenly, his heart broke. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had been wrong. That his wife had been right in telling him to accept Jack into the family, happily, instead of writing the hateful letter he had actually sent.
Elizabeth smiled as she began to fiddle with her rings, lost in a memory of standing on a hill next to Jack as he showed her the white schoolhouse and church. Her voice lost some of its bite and turned melodic and wistful, "He built this place so I could have some place, all my own, to teach. In the winter, I never have to ask anyone to chop wood for the stove. Jack's already done it. Before I even know that a window needs to be sanded or a door hinge needs to be oiled, Jack has done it."
Tears began to form in his daughter's eyes, and while he so desperately wanted to hug her, to beg for forgiveness and to grant it, William couldn't make himself move. Pride held him there like a vice grip. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She was busy trying to convince her father how wrong he was about everything. He didn't dare admit that it was working.
"He's a Mountie, yes, Father. But do you even know what that means? It mean's he's brave and strong, and upright, and selfless. But that's just one part of him. He's an artist, an architect, and a handyman. He's smart and funny and kind. And he makes me better, Father. He makes me selfless and brave and compassionate and he reminds me of what really matters. And if all that wasn't enough, he's building us a house, a home, to grow in and raise a family. What more could the man do to be good enough for me?"
William lowered his head, shameful and contemplating asking for forgiveness, though his pride refused to leave him, "Elizabeth, I know that Jack is a good man, it's not that."
Elizabeth threw her hands up in the air, her voice rising angrily, "Then what is it! His position? His lack of 'societal graces,' whatever that means. Dammit, Father, surely you're not so stuck in the past to think that something as indifferent as social class could mean anything when it comes to a happy, successful marriage."
William's ears turned red and a vein popped out from the center of his forehead. He stood up, pointing a lone finger dangerously at her, "You have no right to talk to me this way! I am your father!"
"Then swallow your pride and start acting like it!" Elizabeth was shouting now, hands flailing. William had never seen her this angry. He had never been this angry at her.
"Pride! You want to talk to me about pride! Talk to your… husband! I gave him a chance, Elizabeth, I offered him the means to better himself. I…"
"I should have kissed him senseless for turning down your job offer."
William shut up, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish, "Elizabeth," his voice barely a whisper. She said it so calmly, so clearly. It was unnerving.
"I should have told him how proud I was of him for standing up to you and refusing to be anything other than the man he was. It's something that I will regret for the rest of my life, making him feel less than wonderful and adored."
William lowered himself back down, flabbergasted. Why was this so difficult? He knew she was right. He knew that Jack was a good man who would take care of her and love her. He knew that the young man would be a good husband and a good father. He just… this was Elizabeth. He loved all of his children, and truthfully, he loved them equally. William knew, as every parent that loved their child did, that a child was born with a certain kind of magic. Wonder and the ability to believe in things unseen were gifts.
Viola, from the moment she was born, had been alert, taking in her surroundings and studying them with a captivated grace. She was smart, clever and practical. She had been vibrant and funny and adventurous. But William, like so many parents, had failed his eldest daughter. He had tampered her spirit, taught it, spanked it, and churched it out of her. His eldest daughter was a shell of the woman she could have been. And William and his wife, Grace, had been the reason. They had let the world shape her and beat her down until all Viola knew was to protect herself from everything.
Julie was born so quickly after Elizabeth, and required so much thought and time that William felt as if he had missed raising Elizabeth. With Julie, William saw a chance to right all the sins he and Grace had committed in regards to raising Viola. They bent over backward, too much, in fact, to ensure Julie was able to be a child, that she had never really grown into and strong, capable woman.
But Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth. She was so different. Much like Viola, Elizabeth was born clever, alert, and observant. She could be loud and boisterous like Julie. She could be cruel like Viola, if he was honest, but never intentionally. And if she had been, Elizabeth would cry and beg for forgiveness, knowing that she had wronged someone. William, often at the end of a hard day, would walk into the parlor and pour himself a whiskey and ungraciously throw himself down onto a sofa. He would hear a giggle and see Elizabeth, nose tuck in a book, laughing at antiques of Joe March or huffing at the lunacy of Heathcliff and Catherine. He would catch her crying as she finished Pride & Prejudice, yet again.
Elizabeth understood, more than either of her parents, what it meant to be a child and what it meant to grow into an adult. William wasn't surprised when Elizabeth announced that she wanted to attend teacher's college. He wasn't surprised when she said that she would be moving out west to teach in a small village. A part of her was always restless in Hamilton. The shine of the city had worn off on her.
William had never been prouder or more worried than when she declared that she would go out west and teach. He had never been prouder and more worried than when she brought a young mountie home with her. William knew, long before she did, and maybe before Jack did, that those two had a connection, a thread that pulled them together. William knew, that when Jack turned his job over down that Elizabeth was already lost to him. It was the day that all fathers pray for and dread. His daughter had found a good man that he respected, even liked, though he had refused to admit it up to this point, and William knew that he would have to let her go.
William lifted his head, tears welling in his eyes, catching Elizabeth off guard. She had never intended her father pain. She loved him dearly. But she couldn't, she wouldn't let him drag Jack through the mud, not anymore. Not ever again. His voice caught in his throat and Elizabeth flinched, "You're right, Elizabeth."
Her eyes shot open and her face turned to shock so quickly that William almost laughed. Almost.
"I have been horrible, prideful ass. I have hurt you. I have no excuse."
"Fa-Father,"
William held up his hand, stopping her from finishing. He stood up, finally, his body heavier and his bones weaker than he remembered them being. He walked over to his daughter, his beautiful daughter, and took her hands. Elizabeth looked down at them as her father fiddled with the simple, beautiful engagement ring. He admired the single sapphire that looked so much like Elizabeth's eyes. Dammit, Jack, you couldn't have picked a more perfect ring.
"I am sorry," the words stuck on the back of his throat, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to walk you down the aisle. I hope someone was."
Elizabeth was crying now, "Abigail did."
William smiled at that, "I always liked that woman. No nonsense about her."
Elizabeth laughed an ugly sob at that before wrapping her arms around her father. William cried with her, holding his daughter close, feeling closer to her than he had in years….
Jack sat in impatiently in the armchair sitting to the left of the sofa. Paper was scattered around him, covered with incoherent sketches of furniture, ideas for the house, of some children that he saw running in the field in front of the row house. They had been gone for over an hour now and his mind was beginning to go to dangerous places. What if William had convinced her to leave him? What if he kidnapped her? Dear God, Jack, be sensible.
He threw his sketch pad and pencil onto the coffee table, startling Rip in the process. The floppy-eared dog slowly raised his head, as if telling Jack off for getting so upset as to interrupt his nap.
"Oh, shut up," Jack murmured to the hound.
He looked around the house for anything to do. He had already chopped some firewood. He had already fixed the window that was beginning to stick by the back of the house. He had even managed to reset the oven door that was beginning to fall out of place on its hinges. The walls were beginning to close in on Jack and he couldn't take it anymore. Without a second thought, he threw on his navy, canvas jacket and flew out the door.
As he flew down the stoop of the row house, Jack looked up to find Elizabeth and her father walking down the path. They were both talking as Elizabeth had her arm tucked into the crook of William's elbow. For an instant, Jack's fears seemed to well up inside him, but then Elizabeth saw him and she smiled so brilliantly that Jack couldn't stop a beautiful, dimpled grin from forming on his face. Elizabeth let go of her father's arm and began to run towards Jack. He caught her in his arms, her cold hands on his face and she pulled him down for a kiss. She was smiling and kissing him and William wasn't saying anything. What in the hell is going on?
Elizabeth ended the kiss but happily remained in her husband's arms. Jack smiled down at her, but it faded quickly when he saw that her eyes were puffy.
"You've been crying," Jack whispered, concern weaved into every syllable, "are you okay?"
Elizabeth's smile grew wider at the care and love etched on Jack's beautiful, handsome face. He still hadn't gotten around to shaving, though she kind of liked the unkempt look on him. It made him even more attractive if that was possible.
"Everything is wonderful," Elizabeth breathed easily, "Father and I ran into Abigail on our way through town and she wants to cook all of us a nice dinner."
Jack nodded, still unsure of what to make of William's presence. Elizabeth found it oddly amusing. She had never seen Jack this flustered or confused. She kissed him again just because she could.
But first," William cleared his throat, forcing both Jack and Elizabeth to turn their attention to her father, "Elizabeth was telling me that you have some plans for a house. I would love to see them."
Jack was taken aback, eyes narrowed in confusion and uncertainty. He glanced back down at Elizabeth, her smile mesmerizing. She simply nodded, "It's okay. I'm going to go on ahead and see if Abigail needs any help."
Jack couldn't contain the snort of a laugh that escaped his lips. Elizabeth pouted and William joined in, "Somehow, Elizabeth," William began, his voice teasing and light, "I don't think she will. But I would love some time alone with my son-in-law."
Elizabeth smiled and gave a quick nod to her father. She looked back up at Jack, who still seemed glued to his spot and his crinkled brow a permanent look plastered on his face. She kissed his cheek softly, "It's okay, Jack." He smiled, still unsure, but trust burned in his eyes. He let her go and motioned for William to follow him inside the house.
Jack laid out his hand-sketched floor plans and furniture designs on the dining table. He went about explaining the designs for the kitchen. William chuckled again at the thought of Elizabeth cooking. "Is she a good cook?"
Jack smiled, shyly, and for a moment William could see what his grandson would look like, should he be blessed with any. A small boy with dimples and kind, twinkling eyes, "She's getting better every day."
William laughed at Jack's diplomatic answer, "Thank God for Abigail, I suppose."
Jack chuckled, loosening up a bit, "Thank God for Abigail."
The building plans were exceptional, William found. Everything was painstakingly thought out. The number of windows, which way they would face, the number of bedrooms, all of it was carefully planned.
"Now what is this room?" William pointed
Jack cleared his throat, "Well, that's a library and office."
William's eyes widened. Jack smiled and began to explain, "I take it you know that Elizabeth has an abiding affection for books. It's a love she has instilled in her students as well," he added off-handedly, "And you have obviously noticed that she doesn't exactly have enough room in this house to store every book she actually owns."
William nodded, "She did have to send most of her books back to the house."
"And I know that it killed her to do so," Jack looked back down to the plans and William followed his gaze, "This will be built as a library. It will also have a desk for her to write or grade papers and write lesson plans, so she's not at the school late at night, working. And there will be large windows that overlook our land, so I can paint or sketch while she works. And there will be plenty of room for the gramophone so she can listen to music while she works."
William could picture it so clearly. A soft waltz playing distantly in the background while Elizabeth typed or checked answers from geography tests. Jack sketching silently, winding down from a long day of rounds. Their basset hound, Rip, he thought he heard Elizabeth call the dog, lounging by Jack's feet. Maybe a baby sleeping soundly in the next room.
"I wanted to have it built before we were married but," Jack stopped, obviously uncomfortable and a little ashamed, "Well, my timetable was jumbled up a bit," he finished gracefully."
William couldn't help but feel incredibly sad for Jack and Elizabeth. They deserved a home that was all theirs. Jack deserved to give that to Elizabeth. Like a bolt of lightning, William imagined an amazing idea.
"Jack," William started, "What if I hired people to build the house for you? That way it could still be completed while you're in the Northern Territories posting?"
Jack swallowed so hard that William nearly asked him if he was okay. He went pale, "William, I… I know you don't think I can provide adequately for Elizabeth. But I can, part of building this house was to show you that, so maybe one day you could… accept me, for Elizabeth's sake. But I'm sorry, I can't let you do that."
"Jack," William's voice was soft, fatherly, loving. Jack couldn't remember the last time a father had spoken to him like this. It brought tears to his eyes, "I don't want to do this to prove anything. I want to do this because you'll be off fighting to keep this country safe. You'll be off doing your job to protect my daughter. You won't be able to build this, beautiful house that you've dreamed up. And it deserves to be built, son."
Jack swallowed, unsure of what to say. William smiled and placed his hand gently on Jack's shoulder.
"I don't… I'm grateful for the offer, William, truly. But… I don't,"
"Jack," William stopped Jack softly, not a trace of anger or bitterness in his voice, "let me start the way I should have the moment I stepped foot back into your home. I need you to know, son, that this was never about you."
Jack has never spent more time in his life being confused than he has today. What the hell is going on?
Deep laugh lines and crow's feet seemed to appear on William's face. He looked so much older than he was and Jack couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Pain and regret were uncomfortably obvious and Jack had a sudden urge to help him, though he didn't quite know how.
"I hope, that when you have children, if you have a daughter, that you'll handle all of this much better than I have. Jack," William placed a hand on Jack's sturdy shoulder, "I've made so many mistakes in my life, especially with my daughters. But Elizabeth, she somehow became an amazing woman despite all my shortcomings. I've done everything I can to protect her
"You're everything I have ever wanted for my daughter. You're loyal and kind and brave. You're proud but not arrogant. You're smart and you love my daughter with everything in you. I could see that from the moment I met you. And it scared me. It scared me to know that she didn't need me anymore. It scared me to know that she wouldn't ever come back to Hamilton to live because you are too good a Mountie to be posted in some quiet port city. It scared me to know that the one thing I was truly good at, being her father, was over."
"You'll always be her father, William," Jack tried to assuage his pain and William couldn't believe just how kind and compassionate his daughter's husband was.
"Yes, but you're her husband. She will rely on you. And that's as it should be. She deserves a man who can protect her and walk with her and grow with her. She deserves a man who tells her father to shove his job offer up his ass."
Jack chuckled at that and William joined in. He looked up at the older man, a warm smile adorning his face. It wasn't the look Jack was used to receiving from the man, but he realized that it seemed a natural expression on William's face. Like it was always meant to be there but just hadn't gotten around to showing up until now. Hope bubbled in his chest and Jack felt as though he might cry.
"Let me do this for you, Jack," William nearly whispered, "Let me begin to make amends for the horrible things I have said and done. Let me do something right for you."
A gentle, easy silence fell between the two men.
"How can I say no to that?" Jack smiled shyly.
William grinned from ear to ear, "You can't."
William pulled Jack into a tight hug that reminded Jack so much of his father that it almost hurt to breathe. Tears welled in his eyes and William, whether he could sense it or not, hugged Jack just a little bit tighter before pulling away. If Jack shed a tear, neither man said anything. William just simply smacked his new son on the back and ushered him out the door to meet Elizabeth and Abigail at the cafe for dinner….
To be continued...
