Hi all,

I am so sorry that I have been so MIA. This chapter seemed to get away from me a bit and I actually had to cut it down into two chapters in order to keep everything that I felt needed to stay as well as some of the things that I know you all would want to read.

So without further adieu, here is the next chapter of I and Love and You.

Please enjoy, read, and review.


Elizabeth didn't know if she should smile or roll her eyes at the sight before her.

She was currently watching, with thinly veiled amusement, Julie, Abigail, Rosemary, and Grace standing over the bassinet just to the left of her bed. With each unconscious stretch and grunt that Thatcher made, the women above him fawned and sighed in amazement. Elizabeth would have laughed at them all if she wasn't so enamored herself.

He had fallen asleep at her breast, suckling softly for a few minutes before suddenly stopping. Elizabeth, who had admittedly been dosing off herself, woke up with a start, terrified that something horrible was happening. But she looked down at the beautiful baby boy in her arms and found him snoring softly, his tiny hand resting on her breast.

And now her son, Jack Thatcher Thornton, was resting comfortably in his bassinet by his mother's side while the most important women in her life gazed down lovingly at him. She smiled at the sight.

"ELIZABETH! JULIE!"

All five women glanced at one another, fury dancing in their eyes. It would have been laughable if they weren't all so angry at the prospect of someone waking up poor Thatcher from his nap prematurely.

"ELIZABETH!"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she placed the voice echoing through the house as a set of boots trampled up the stairs. What on earth was Tom screaming about?

"ELIZABETH," Tom reached the top of the stairs when Julie ran out of the bedroom, ready to scold him for being so loud.

"Tom, be quiet! We just put Thatcher down!"

Tom practically picked Julie up and moved her out of the way so he could enter the bedroom.

"Elizabeth," Tom was out of breath and sweating. Fear and panic shimmered in his eyes and Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach. Something was wrong.

"Tom," Elizabeth began but her voice caught on the question she was too scared to ask.

Tom's eyes welled with tears as he looked frantically around the room. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt Abigail, Rosie, and her mother circle her, at the ready for whatever Tom was about to say. Julie walked up behind him and placed a loving, gentle hand on his shoulder and the tears that Tom had been fighting to hold back now fell freely.

"It's Jack…."


Elizabeth had nearly drowned as a child.

She had grown up in the port city of Hamilton, had learned to swim and splash along the shores of Lake Ontario countless times. The water that seemed to surround a young Elizabeth wasn't new or dangerous, simply a constant in her life and the lives of her sisters. So when her father announced one night at dinner of the family holiday he had planned to Prince Edward Island, Elizabeth had thought little of it save the excitement of her first boat ride.

But much to Elizabeth's surprise, the shores of Lake Ontario were stodgy and lifeless compared to the white, champagne, blush and carmine beaches of Prince Edward Island. Her father had arranged for three rooms at a lovely hotel, The White Sands. Elizabeth and Julie shared a room, happy to be rid of Viola every evening. Likewise, Viola, self-described as a growing young woman in need of privacy, was thrilled with the promise of her own room, if only for a few weeks. The hotel was surrounded by tall, lush green grasses that Elizabeth and her sisters had run through for hours on end. But best of all, the hotel sat just past the shore of a beautiful, crisp white beach that was less than a five minute walk from the hotel's expansive wrap around porch.

All three Thatcher girls giggled whenever they splashed one another in the small tide pools and puddles that formed along the shore as the tides receded. Viola and Elizabeth would always scream when Julie, barely four years old, chased them with a baby crab she had found when digging in the sand.

Elizabeth and Viola would have competitions to prove who the best swimmer was. Viola would tease Elizabeth when she struggled with her backstroke. Elizabeth would goad her older sister when she couldn't get her breathing right when executing the breaststroke. They would count how long the other could hold their breath underwater and they would see how far one of them could swim out into the water and come back, despite their parents protests.

One day, Viola pushed Elizabeth too far. She called Elizabeth a silly child that could swim as well as a baby and that there was no way she could swim more than two feet. And Elizabeth, young and headstrong, had accepted her sister's challenge, more than happy to prove her wrong.

Soon, Elizabeth had realized she had gone too far. She was unable to touch the ocean floor and unable to steady herself when the current began to pull and push her further out. She could hear Viola yelling at her to turn around and swim back. Elizabeth had swished and kicked to fight the current, but her arms and legs were already exhausted. Soon, the water engulfed her.

She had tried desperately to pull herself up from beneath the waves and take a breath. Countless times, she felt her fingertips breach the surface of the water, felt the top of her head touch the air, only to be dragged back down under with each new crashing wave. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her ears and throbbed in her temples. Fear bubbled up inside her and panic began to set in. Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream only to suck in the salty ocean water of the Northumberland Straight….

And then she felt her father's hand grasp her little ones as he plucked her from the rough waves. He swum assuredly back to shore, holding Elizabeth tight to his chest. Her father's grip was safe and reassuring as Elizabeth coughed against his shoulder, spewing salt water and expelling fear from her lungs. Soon enough, they were back on the beach and her mother wiped the water from her deep blue eyes. She could hear Viola crying, begging for Elizabeth to forgive her for daring her to swim so far out into the water. Julie stood silently next to their father, a tight grasp on Elizabeth's hand that was dangling limply at her side.

"It's okay, Beth," she could hear her father's strong, steady voice, "just breathe. Just breathe."

So Elizabeth breathed in and out, coughing every now and again. It's okay… it's okay..it's…it's Jack…. Jack….It's Jack… it's Jack.. it's Jack….. It's Jack….

Please God. Please…. God, please not Jack.

Tom's words rattled in Elizabeth's head, growing louder and harsher with each passing second. She stared blankly at her brother-in-law while he explained that Jack… her darling, beautiful, strong Jack… was hurt, maybe dying…. Elizabeth couldn't think of that horrible possibility.

She couldn't hear Tom anymore, couldn't hear the gasps and tears from Abigail and Julie and her mother. They were just waves of noise. Waves crashing over her head and pulling her under into a deep dark sea that she hadn't realized she had been treading in since the moment Jack left… since the moment she had watched him ride out of town with her heart in his hands. She had jumped into the sea without realizing it and now… now Elizabeth was drowning. It was terrifying and foreign and familiar and all Elizabeth could do was listen to the crashing waves over her head.

"I…" the words stuck in her throat, pulled out by the invisible water rushing through her lungs, "I have to go."

Elizabeth began to stand up out of the bed, her body screaming at her to sit back down. She had only given birth a few hours ago… less than ten. She shouldn't have attempted to leave the feather bed… she couldn't think of any other action to take.

"Elizabeth, you cannot leave this house." Abigail and Grace fussed in unison. Both women rushed over to Elizabeth's side, trying to get her to sit back down.

"I am not," Elizabeth began, very nearly snarling at the two women beside her, "going to sit here while my husband is bleeding out on a table. I have to see him… I have to… I must see him."

Grace attempted to console her daughter, "Jack is in good hands, Elizabeth. Right now, he needs you and Thatcher safe and healthy. Which means you need to stay in bed before you hurt yourself."

Elizabeth ignored her mother's words, biting back with her own, "I have to see him, Mother. I can't… I need to tell him… he needs me."

"He doesn't need you right now, Elizabeth. He needs Carson and Faith and he needs them focused. And they can't be focused if you're running into town after having given birth less than 24 hours ago."

Abigail's words were sharp and painful and took the room by surprise. Grace's eyes went wide and Tom's brows shot through the shock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Julie gasped at Thatcher began to cry.

Elizabeth's eyes shut as a jolt of pain coursed through her body and left her breathless. She couldn't stand anymore, the pain low in her belly refusing to dissipate and so she lowered herself back down onto her side of the bed. A deep breath escaped from in between her lips and Abigail placed two strong, loving hands on her slender shoulders. Elizabeth looked up at her friend, her mentor, sister, mother…. Tears welled in both their eyes. Grace now sat at her daughter's side, grasping tightly to the hand dangling limply at her side.

The sharp sound of a baby crying filled Elizabeth's ears. She glanced over Abigail's shoulder to see her sister struggling to calm a fussy Thatcher down. His face was red and scrunched up in pain and Julie looked terrified and unsure of herself and a sudden surge of love and possessiveness and fear swept over Elizabeth… and suddenly the sea inside her head was calm. The storm raged on in the distance but for now… for now the water was still.

"Bring him over here Julie," Elizabeth commanded so softly, yet so assuredly like all mothers could. Elizabeth's words and her stormy blue eyes beckoned Julie toward her older sister, arms curled protectively around her infant nephew as she walked carefully over to the bed and placed the infant boy into his mother's arms.

Elizabeth held her son close as she began to hum softly to him, studying the way his nose already seemed to resemble Jack's and how his pout was so similar to her own. A tear fell down Elizabeth's cheek and landed onto Thatcher's little hand, the salty water foreign to his delicate, newborn skin.

"It's okay, Thatcher," he could hear his mother's soft, soothing voice, "it's okay, Thatcher.

The baby quickly settled down against his mother's chest, nuzzling her neck softly and smacking his lips. It was so sweet and so innocent and it made Elizabeth want to cry.

Jack smacked his lips when he was asleep, usually before he turned onto his side and pulled Elizabeth into his chest. It was such a little thing that only Elizabeth knew about him. It was one of the secret treasures she locked away in her heart when he left for the Northern Territories. And the knowledge that their son, his son, was already so much like his father felt like a hole in her chest.

Dear God… please not Jack.

"Elizabeth."

It was a quiet voice, quieter than Elizabeth had thought possible for her to be.

Rosemary stood still in the corner of the bedroom. Tears brimmed in her eyes but her jaw was set and resolve oozed from her radiant skin.

"Abigail and I will go into town and wait with Tom for any news," Rosemary began as she walked steadily to Elizabeth. She gave Abigail a slight nod and Abigail walked around the bed and ushered Tom downstairs.

"We will not leave Jack's side until it's all over. I promise you," Rosemary knelt down in front of Elizabeth and placed a comforting hand on her friend's arms that held Thatcher close. A melancholy smile drew across Rosemary's face as several tears fell down onto her full lips. "I will send Tom or Lee with news every hour on the hour…. But right now, your son needs you, and your husband needs you to be safe and to be healthy. And that means staying right where you are."

Elizabeth's eyes slammed shut as her friend's words rattled around in her head, "I know," Elizabeth whispered in reply, "I know."

The two women gazed at one another and Elizabeth sent a silent prayer of thanks for Rosemary.

The woman had ridden in to Hope Valley with a single-minded focus of winning Jack back. She and Elizabeth had clashed and fought and suddenly, without realizing it, had become friends. Jack had often teased them about their unlikely relationship, constantly earning scowls from both Rosemary and Elizabeth and laughter from Lee. They had bonded in the most unlikely of circumstances and had forged a bond that only grew as the years passed. In so many ways, they were sisters, aggravating one another, helping one another, comforting one another and celebrating with each other.

They both loved Jack dearly.

And as Elizabeth stared down at Rosemary, she knew that she could trust her friend to follow through on her word. If Elizabeth couldn't be outside Carson's door, waiting for any word of Jack's condition, it could only be Rosemary to hold her place.

"Thank you," was all Elizabeth could muster as she choked back more tears.

"Of course," was Rosemary's soft, strained reply, "of course."


Tom had been an unruly child even before his father died.

He had been boisterous and hyper and discontent. Life in the small town of Rimouski, Quebec was boring and quiet and Tom Thornton couldn't stand it. His mind was wild and rowdy and there was little to stimulate his imagination and intellect. He constantly picked fights in school and riled up his teachers in order to stir up excitement to the sleepy timber town.

But for every fight, every scrap behind the old dingy schoolhouse he got into, Jack was there to talk him out of trouble or fight beside him. For every time he played a prank on the pretty but stern Mrs. Pike, Jack was there to help smooth things. And for every punishment his mother and father dished out, for every time he was barred from the pick up baseball or football games with the other school kids, Jack was there to keep him company.

When their father died… Tom lost himself. He let his grief and anger and disappointment consume him until he couldn't find it in himself to care about anything. He became numb to the Mrs. Pikes admonishments and attempts to reach out.

He watched his mother draw into herself, becoming more reserved and quiet. The soft edges of her character, the parts of her that let him sneak a cookie before dinner or to stay up and read one more chapter of The Red Badge of Courage, had become sharper. She quit painting and drawing, quit singing off key as she cleaned around the house, and quit reading to him at night before bed.

And Jack, quiet, calm, steady Jack, remained by Tom's side. He spent more time in the woods, spent more time by himself sketching and studying the world around him. In a way, Jack had simply become more of who he was: steadier, calmer, quieter… stronger.

Whenever Ma was sharp with Tom for yet another hair brained prank, Jack was there to calm her down and to help Tom see the error of his ways. When Rosemary, who Tom loved but always found a bit too loud and dramatic for Jack, was overreacting about yet another disagreement with another director, Jack talked her through what she should have said and helped her form a plan of attack for repentance. When someone… anyone, was in need or in pain, it was Jack that was there to help.

Tom Thornton, who learned as little as possible as a child and for most of his adult life, learned quickly that the whole world could go topsy turvy… the rivers could run backwards and the sun may never rise again… but Jack Thornton would be there for him to lean on and to learn from. The world could go mad, but his brother, Jack Thornton, would always be there to fix it.

But now he might not be.

Tom watched as Julie and Rosemary frantically gathered their coats and gloves and scarves. He drove them silently into town in Rosemary and Lee's shiny new Model-T. He stood patiently, Julie's hand resting softly in the crook of his arm, as Rosemary walked into the lumber mill's office to retrieve Lee. He waited calmly as Bill explained to Lee, Rosemary, and Julie exactly what had happened after the stranger road into town with a nearly lifeless Jack.

And now he sat calmly outside of the clinic, the bitterly cold wind stinging his face, as he waited for any word from Faith or Carson about Jack's condition. Lee or Rosemary would walk over from the saloon every hour to keep him company and to inquire about Jack's condition. And every hour, Tom would watch Lee or Rosemary drive back out to the row houses to deliver news to Elizabeth and Abigail and Grace.

And Tom Thornton waited… waited to hear if his brother, the quiet, calm, steady Jack Thornton was okay… waited to hear if his world was about to go topsy turvy and mad…. Tom Thornton waited.

"Tom," a quiet, still voice cut through the noise in his head and Tom looked up to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Julie Thatcher, with her beautiful auburn hair and kind, playful hazel eyes walked up the few porch steps to stand directly in front of him.

She placed a gloved hand on the cold, chapped skin of his cheek, "Tom please let me sit out here for a while. Go inside the saloon and get a coffee."

Tom placed his hand overtop Julie's, pulling her knuckles to his lips and placing a quick kiss on the soft leather, "I'm okay, Jules."

"You'll catch your death if you stay out too much longer," Julie's words were gentle, playful even, as if she were uncertain of what to say, "Jack wouldn't want you to worry yourself like this."

"I'm okay, Julie," Tom's repeated, his words sharper than before.

"Tom, please," frustration was laced in her words as Julie lowered herself into the chair beside Tom's, "You're not doing anyone any good by getting yourself sick. I will sit here and wait for a while. And when Lee comes back, he can sit and wait for news. You're not alone, Tom. I understand that you're worried…"

"Julie," Tom whispered her name, his words tortured and painful and bitter, "I can't," the words caught in his throat, "I can't leave him."

Tears welled in Tom's eyes at the thought of leaving his brother, of running away like he had so many times before. He knew that he had disappointed Jack so many times. He knew that he had fallen short of the kind of man that Jack thought he could be… the kind of man he should be.

"He has always been there for me, Julie. Even when I didn't deserve it, Jack has always…. he's always been here and I can't have a world where…I can't… please don't make me leave him, Julie. Not now."

Tears fell from Tom's eyes and began to freeze against his cheeks. Julie lowered herself to kneel in front of him, both gloved hands resting on either side of his face, tears welling in her own eyes.

"I won't," Julie vowed, "I will never make you leave him."

Tom slammed his eyes shut and he pulled Julie to his chest. He felt her slender arms wrap around him as sobs wracked his body.

"I can't…I can't, Julie… I"

"I know, Tom," Julie whispered into his hair, "I know, sweetheart."

She did know, Tom was sure. Julie Thatcher knew him better than just about anyone, save his brother. And she knew that Tom Thornton couldn't imagine a world without Jack Thornton…knew that it would break something delicate and precious inside him that would never be able to be repaired.


Carson couldn't remember a time he had been so tired. His hands were beginning to cramp, forcing him to shake them out every few minutes while Faith held a clamp or knife or gauze packing. His eyes stung with exhaustion from straining to see the smallest of details as he searched for bullets and sewed gaping wounds shut. His feet and knees ached deep in the bone from standing for hours on end. His mind hurt from searching the recesses of his mind for any information on treating gunshots and hypothermia and blood loss. His throat was dry from talking Faith through cauterizing a severed artery without killing the wounded man on her table.

Carson Shepherd, small town country doctor, was mentally and physically drained… and there was still so much left to do.

"What next," Faith's voice cut through Carson's weary mind. He looked up at her for just a moment before answering. Wisps of her soft blonde hair had escaped from the professional, practical bun she often kept it in. Blood was caked onto her hands and smeared on her crisp, white nurse's apron. He could see the tiredness in her face, the color of her cheeks nearly gone and dark circles under her beautiful eyes. Thank God, Carson thought, thank you, God, for Faith.

"Now," Carson began, his dry, raspy voice cutting through the silence of the clinic, "Now we wait. The ether we gave both of them will be wearing off in the next hour or so and we will have a better idea of their pain levels and overall condition then."

Faith nodded as she glanced over to the man on the table next to her. His dark skin a sharp contrast to the new set of clean white sheets wrapped around him. His face, thin with a strong, sharp jaw, was kind. His dark brown eyes, for the short time she had to look into them, were sad, weary, but a strong soul shined through. She wondered what his name was.

She had removed to bullets from his body: one in the leg and another in the stomach. The former had nicked an artery near his femur and had caused a tremendous amount of internal bleeding. After several minutes, she had managed, with Carson's guidance, to stem the bleeding but it was still unclear if too much blood had been lost to save the leg. Faith prayed she hadn't been too late… the man seemed too good to lose something as precious as a leg.

Faith turned to look at Carson's operating table… at Jack Thornton.

His face had regained some of it's color, though his lips were still too blue for her liking.

Carson had removed a total of two bullets and sewn three wounds shut. Two from his shoulder and chest and one from his stomach. The one in his stomach had been a clean through and through with no major organs or veins severed or nicked. One of the bullets in his shoulder had hit the shoulder's ball socket, had splintered and been lodged in the bone. The other… the other had very nearly missed Jack's left lung, instead, shattering one of his rib bones and partially tearing through the skin of his back before stopping there.

"How bad is it, Carson?" Faith's eyes darted from Jack's resting form to the Carson's weary eyes.

Carson glanced over at the stranger on Faith's operating table, "Depending on how much blood loss Jack's friend suffered, he could lose his leg. Infection is the most dangerous thing for him right now. We will need to keep his bandages and wounds as clean as possible.

"And Jack?"

A deep, slow breath flowed past Carson's lips, "Recovery will be long and slow and painful for Jack. His shoulder… I got the bullet out and tried as best I could to minimize the splintering of the bone but I would expect that he will have limited range of motion in it for the rest of his life. The wound to his stomach will be annoying and painful but should heal relatively quickly."

Carson took a step closer to Jack's comatose form, studying the young man's pale face and blue lips, "He is suffering from hypothermia, which was most likely exacerbated by blood loss. Ironically, though, I think that's the only reason he didn't die before he got here."

Faith's eyes narrowed in confusion. Carson noticed and continued to explain.

"When the body begins to go into hypothermic shock, the blood vessels and arteries to narrow, restricting blood flow and reducing oxygen to the heart. I think that restriction of blood flow prevented Jack from bleeding out and dying. It also prevented any bone from his shattered rib to enter the blood stream. In a way… in a way it was a blessing in disguise."

Faith tore her gaze from Carson back to Jack. Multiple blankets encased his body as well as several hot water bottles to get his body temperature back up, "What about nerve and cerebral damage due to lack of oxygen?"

"Again," Carson began to answer, "we won't know the answers to those questions until he wakes up and is able to communicate with us."

Carson looked over at the young woman beside him, her eyes darting between the two men she had worked so hard to save.

"You did well, Faith," Carson's voice cut through the horrific thoughts racing through her mind. She looked up at the doctor, his short blonde hair was disheveled and his pressed clothes were rumpled and blood stained. Dark circles sat underneath his steely blue eyes. A tired smile danced across his lips for just a moment as his hands began to shake from overuse. Thank God, Faith thought, thank you, God, for Faith.

"We both did," Faith replied, a small smile graced her lips.

Carson nodded before looking out the large shop window at the front of the clinic. The sun was setting. Deep, warm oranges and reds and pinks filled the operating room. Carson took in the light and color and warmth, inhaled deeply as he prepare himself to walk out the front door to deliver his final piece of news to Jack Thornton's family.


Abigail Stanton had experienced more than she ever thought she would. She had never expected to lose her father to influenza when she was only eight. She had never expected to lose her mother the first year of her marriage. She had never expected to lose her husband and son in one fell swoop of Death's unfeeling scythe.

She had never expected to feel hope or happiness again with the death of Noah and Peter. She had never expected to laugh, deep in her belly at a joke or to sing so freely and honestly a church hymn on Sunday. She had never expected God to bless her with another chance to be a mother. She had never expected to understand the boundless love that she had only read about in her Bible. Not after she had experienced so much death and destruction and heartbreak.

And then a young, idealistic, wet behind the ears school teacher rode into town with too many luggage cases filled with clothes… but books too. And a Mountie, with a good heart and desire to prove himself to the world and to make his father proud, road in on a black horse right behind the clumsy, accidental arsonist of a school teacher.

Abigail opened her home to Elizabeth and without even realizing it, her heart too. She watched as Elizabeth walked to the saloon every day, chalk pieces and readers and lunch pale in hand. She watched as the children of Hope Valley grew and learned and laughed in a way that they hadn't since the mining disaster. She watched as the town fell in love with Elizabeth Thatcher's spirit and sass and dedication. She watched as the Mountie, so angry and annoyed at being placed in such a sleepy frontier town, fell in love with her too.

Abigail watched as the school teacher and the Mountie, unsure of what to make of each other, but drawn to one another all the same, began a friendship that had the promise of something greater. She pitied Jack as he floundered in trying to court Elizabeth, all the while knowing that their friendship was destined for so much more. She held Elizabeth when Jack road out of town on his temporary assignment to Cape Fullerton, tears falling down the school teacher's face when Elizabeth Thatcher finally realized that Jack Thornton meant something more to her than she ever thought possible.

Abigail Stanton never thought she would love anyone the way she loved her son. But God, in His infinite grace and wisdom, had shown Abigail the depths of her heart… had shown her, with Elizabeth and Jack, with Cody, that love was endless and limitless. So was hope….

So Abigail hoped as she sat beside Elizabeth, who was currently nursing her son and humming a soft lullaby. She hoped for the school teacher and the Mountie who loved one another desperately. She hoped for the son and daughter she never hoped to ask God for again, only for Him to bless her with anyway. She hoped for baby Thatcher, nestled safely in his mother's arms, that he wouldn't suffer the fate of growing up without a father. She hoped and prayed to God that she would not lose another son.

And when Tom Thornton came rushing up the stairs, out of breath but with a smile on his face, Abigail thanked God for the thousandth time for rewarding her hope… her faith.


Elizabeth had nearly drowned as a child.

If she thought about it long enough, she could remember the feeling of fear as the waves crashed over her head and pulled her underneath the water. She could remember what it felt like to feel the water filling up her lungs and her mind growing dim as the air left her body.

She could remember how it felt to be pulled out from beneath the water. She could remember what it felt like to feel the crisp ocean air hit her face as the clean, salty air filled her lungs and the only remnant of the waves were the soft melodious sounds of water crashing onto the sand.

It was that same assurance she felt when Jack held her close as they danced. It was that same peace she felt as she would watch him sketch or paint in the dying hours of the day before he dimmed the lamps and walked behind her up the stairs to go to bed. It was that same rush she felt as he kissed her softly and whispered, "I love you," sweetly in her ear.

It was how she felt as Tom rushed up the stairs, smiling so brightly.

"He's awake, Elizabeth…he's awake."


There it is! I know it's kind of another cliff hanger but at least it's a good one!

Again, please leave me a review. They are extremely encouraging and motivating and do a writer good.

-grayhello22