Hi all. I have no excuse for why it's been so long between updates. Life got pretty hectic for a while. If you're still with this story, BLESS YOU! Please read and enjoy. I'm about half way through the next chapter now so hopefully, HOPEFULLY, another update is coming soon. Enjoy!
William Thatcher knew what regret tasted like. It was the cloyingly sweet taste of too much chocolate guzzled down the night of his tenth birthday, inhaling the petit fours that were arranged on the sideboard of his mother's extravagant dining room. "They don't taste as well coming up as they do going down do they," his father had landed the cold, snide remark. Of course his father hadn't offered any pity or compassion, he'd warned William not to eat too many of the tasty little chocolate cakes. But William had continued to eat them because they tasted like his birthday and his birthday tasted brilliant… at least it tasted delicious until William began retching.
Years later, William still associated the taste of chocolate with regret. Though his father died and the memory of his tenth birthday along with him, his father's cold, calculating words stuck with him. Regrets taste different going out than going in. For a man William's age, there were too many regrets to remember, let alone forget. But there were some that had found a way of sticking, and whenever he mulled them over, he found that horrible taste of chocolate rising up in his throat and coating his dry mouth.
In his adult life, he regretted letting his father die without telling him how much he respected him and cared for him. Years of disagreements and bitter arguments had piled between them, both men too stubborn to admit that they were wrong, that it wasn't worth it. He had simply stood behind his mother, a gentle hand on her frail shoulder as she sat next to his father, a gentle hand clasped to his cold, clammy one. As his father breathed his last, the air turned sour and the taste and smell of chocolate filled William's senses and made him want to vomit. That tasted quite different going in than it did getting out, didn't it, Willy?
When it came to his daughters, his precious children, for many years, William boastfully (though now he would say ignorantly) admitted to no regrets. He and his wife had raised three intelligent, strong willed, beautiful young women. But then they had deserted him and William realized that there were too many regrets to name… he simply hadn't been paying attention.
Viola had grown up without him realizing it, and as she swam in the social circles of high society, he had done nothing to prevent his eldest daughter from becoming bitter and cynical, her heart hardened by the world's treatment of her and all womenkind. And then Elizabeth had left in search of her career and of a life that didn't fit into the careful constructed dream he had built for her and her sisters. Julie had stayed, and for the first time in a long time, William had come to the painful conclusion that while he had spent so much time worrying and attempting to curb her reckless behavior, William didn't actually know anything about his youngest daughter.
Without realizing it, William had hardened his feelings, his hopes and dreams for his daughters buried deep in his heart until he forgot where they were. Sometimes he would think of his children and the horrible taste of chocolate would collect in the back of his throat.
Things were better between them now, at least with Elizabeth and Julie. He would only admit it to his darling wife, but William feared he wouldn't succeed in reaching Viola. There were some wounds that wouldn't heal properly when given so much time to fester. All of a sudden, it was as if William was on his death bed and Viola was standing above him, cold and careful with a hand on her mother's shoulder, unable to forgive him. That tasted quite different going in than it did getting out, didn't it, Willy?
As William listened to his son-in-law, sitting across from him at the dinner table, William yet again tasted the bitter bite of chocolate. Jack was slouched slightly in his chair, a sight that left William more shaken than he would care to admit. He was favoring his left shoulder which was no longer wrapped in the sling he had been wearing for the past month and a half. William looked his son-in-law over, taking in the fact that Jack, while in a much better state than he had been, was still a little too thin and pale for William's liking. Charles did this to him, William thought bitterly, forcing down the taste of chocolate in his throat. Charles nearly killed this man… nearly made my daughter a widow and stole my grandson's father.
William glanced over Jack's shoulder to watch his daughter. She was swaying gently, lulling the babe in her arms into a deep, dreamless sleep. Elizabeth was glowing as an easy smile adorned her face while she gazed at a sleeping Thatcher. Motherhood suited his daughter.
"They're beautiful aren't they," Jack's voice cut through William's tumultuous thoughts. William brought his attention back to his son-in-law. Jack had shifted in his chair to look at his wife and son, a contented grin spread across his face. William gave a quick grin as he watched Jack watch Elizabeth. Dear God he loves her, William thought. How could I ever have thought him to be a lesser man than Charles?
"I'm so sorry, Jack," was all William could muster.
Jack turned back around, confusion clear across his face, "What for?"
"For too many things, son," William began, "I put Charles in the position to make all of this possible. I trusted him, made him a partner… He turned my business into a front for an abominable enterprise, caused mayhem and chaos in the Northern Territories," William leaned forward, nearly whispering, "Jack, you nearly died fighting to get it under control. How could I have been so stupid?"
Jack placed his hands up upon the table (William noticed the small wince that flashed across Jack's face as he raised his left arm) his fingers curling around his cup of tea. Jack's brow furrowed as his dark hazel eyes narrowed and stared deeply into the murky liquid inside his cup. After a beat, Jack looked back up at his father-in-law.
"I never liked Charles, for obvious reasons," Jack started with a meek smile and suddenly William could see what Jack must have looked like as a young boy, smart, observant, yet still shy, "But, William… the thought never crossed my mind that Charles was capable of anything like this. You've known Charles for most of his life. You treated him like a son, loved him like a son. How could you have known? This isn't your fault."
Jack took special care to look William in the eye when he uttered a final sentence, "None of this is your fault."
William realized then that Jack could see inside his heart, the utter guilt the had plagued his soul since hearing of his son-in-law's grave injuries and harrowing return. He briefly nodded his head and took a sip from his tea cup. The liquid had turned cold without him realizing it and the liquid nearly made him gag as it ran down his throat, "I can't believe I ever thought he was a better man than you, Jack. I'm so sorry."
An apologetic smile flashed across Jack's face before he leaned back in his chair, "William, I completely agree with you that no man will ever be good enough for Elizabeth. And on paper, Charles was always the easy bet. He makes good money, comes from a good family, and his job doesn't come with angry criminals and dangerous grifters. I understand why, William. I always have. I may not have liked it but I always understood. And if Elizabeth and I are ever blessed with a daughter, I will need you to remind me of what matters most in a man."
William gave his son-in-law a bright smile, "I'm glad she chose you, Jack. I don't think you'll ever know how glad I am that Elizabeth chose you."
"It wasn't even a choice," Elizabeth's voice startled William as his daughter, having just put Thatcher into his bassinet, walked over to the dining room table and began to run her fingers through the back of Jack's hair. The young couple smiled at one another and William felt the rising sense of regret disappear.
Elizabeth was going back to school this morning, leaving Jack for the day for the first time since he'd been back and leaving Thatcher for the first time in his life. It would be fine, she knew. There was no one she trusted Thatcher with more than Jack, and even though he was still recovering, Jack was making remarkable progress in his rehabilitation. And if he needed any help, Julie and Rosemary were in town, her mother was down the road with Abigail and her father was sitting right across the table.
"Are you sure that you'll be okay," Elizabeth nearly whispered to Jack as she played with the strands at the back of his neck. He had gotten a hair cut and a fresh shave from the barber a few days ago and Elizabeth loved the soft, silky strands that were always cut close at the base of his head. If her father hadn't been here, she would have scraped her nails along his scalp, undoubtedly earning a groan from her husband that never failed to make her go weak in the knees.
"I will," Jack answered her resolutely, "it's only for a few hours, darlin'. Thatcher and I will be fine."
Elizabeth gazed into his beautiful hazel eyes, searching for any concern that may have lingered in his eyes. He had been getting better since the night of Teddy Cooper's death, but she knew that Jack still didn't entirely trust himself with Thatcher… or her. And though she could see the same desire in his eyes that mirrored her own, he was hesitant with her, scared even, to get too close.
"Okay," she said softly before placing a lingering kiss on Jack's forehead, "if you need anything, you can always come to the school. I will be back to feed him around eleven, during recess."
"Sounds wonderful, darlin'" Jack's voice was warm and full and Elizabeth couldn't help the smile that grew across her face, "I love you."
"I love you too," Elizabeth returned. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Jack's lips, oblivious to her father and to the world. She felt Jack's hand clasp the fabric of her skirt, tension in his grip before letting go of the woolen garment.
"Have a wonderful day," Jack spoke softly as Elizabeth pulled away, "we'll see you soon."
Elizabeth smiled slightly before turning her gaze over to her father. He was smiling sweetly, contentment and peace radiating from his eyes and face. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father so happy.
"Do me a favor and keep an eye on them for me, Father?" Elizabeth asked her father jokingly, "They both can be a hand full."
"Don't worry, Beth," William responded kindly, "I won't let anything happen to them."
Elizabeth gave a slight nod before giving Jack another kiss and walked over to take one more look at Thatcher as he slept in his bassinet. He was sucking lightly on his thumb and his dark brown hair sticking up in different directions. By God, how was it possible to love someone so much?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Jack, Elizabeth, and William glanced over to the door as Rosemary let herself into the Thornton household.
"Hello all," Rosemary whispered in her customary sing-song voice, "how are we doing this fine winter morning?"
Elizabeth smiled at Rosemary and Jack chuckled at the slightly scandalized expression currently resting on William's face.
"Hiya, Rosie," Jack greeted his friend, rising slowly to close the door behind Rosemary and to retrieve Elizabeth's coat. Elizabeth quietly walked the length of the floor from Thatcher's bassinet to the door, silently accepting Jack's offer to bundle her up before leaving the house.
"You really didn't need to walk over with me to the school, Rosemary," Elizabeth's tone was teasing and a gentle smile graced her lips.
"Nonsense," Rosemary countered, waving Elizabeth's remark off with the flick of her wrists, "I needed to go into town to pick a few things up from the mercantile anyway. I could use the company for a short while."
Rosemary then gave Elizabeth a small knowing smile, quick and circumspect. Elizabeth gave a gentle smile in a silent thank you to her friend. Elizabeth knew that she shouldn't be surprised by Rosemary's offer to walk to the schoolhouse with her. She had mentioned in passing weeks ago about being nervous returning to school after Thatcher was born. Rosemary had declared that she would accompany Elizabeth for the walk from the row houses to the school house without a second thought.
For all of her theatrics, Rosemary was exceedingly thoughtful and not for the first time in the past few months did Elizabeth send up a silent prayer of thanks for the boisterous, dramatic, woman that was Rosemary Coulter.
"See that she get's there safe, Rosie," Jack playfully ordered his friend as Elizabeth wrapped a scarf around her neck and shoved her hands into the soft leather gloves Jack had gifted her with the year before.
"That I will, Captain," Rosemary smiled as she threw up a mock salute, "you can count on me."
"You're both incorrigible," Elizabeth playfully scolded both of them before saying goodbye to her father once more.
She turned to Jack and placed a gloved hand sweetly on his stubbly cheek, "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone," Elizabeth commanded her husband. There was a grin plastered on her face but Jack didn't miss the slight tremor in her voice. He grew serious for a moment, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his wife's forehead, "I won't, Mrs. Thornton. I promise."
Jack could feel the tension in Elizabeth's frame ease as she placed a soothing kiss on his sandpaper cheek, smiling at him once more before walking out the door and leaving her family tucked safely inside….
Lee Coulter hunched over his desk as he read and reread the telegram in his hands. He poured over every word, every stop trying to decipher hidden meanings and clues. He studied the texture of the paper and the indentations of the printed letters, hoping to find the future spelled out in black and white. He scanned the message in hopes of finding a way to prevent what he knew would occur the moment he gave it to Abigail.
WILL BE IN HOPE VALLEY NEXT WEEK. STOP.
NEED TO DISCUSS SHIPPING CONTRACTS. STOP.
Lee's hands shook as he tried desperately not to crumple up the telegram from Charles Kensington. A bitter rage and desire to beat the man senseless coursed through his veins. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, Lee thought. But for the life of him, he couldn't seem to get it under control.
The man alone wasn't responsible for the pain and torment happening in the Northern Territories. But it was Charles' men that Jack had been chasing. His men that had put two bullets into Jack and nearly killed him. It was Charles Kensington who put a face to the faceless thugs and criminals that nearly caused Elizabeth to become a widow, that nearly caused Thatcher to grow up without his father. It was Charles Kensington and his men that had nearly taken his friend from him.
And now Lee had a piece of the puzzle that would bring Charles Kensington to his knees. A date and time for when the two faced coward would dare to set foot in Hope Valley. All he had to do was drive into town, march into Mayor Stanton's office, and place the telegram in her capable hands. Except he couldn't bring himself to get up from his desk.
"Hello, sweetheart," a melodious voice forced Lee's gaze from his desk to his office door.
He watched as Rosemary placed her hat on the pedestal table by the door. He gazed at her as she gracefully pulled off her gloves and scarf. He let his gaze linger, taking in the calm that settled over him whenever Rosemary walked into the room. He breathed in the subtle scent of her perfume that seemed to linger on his clothes now. Lee took in the sight, smell, and sound of his wife.
"Lee…. Lee!"
"What?" Lee replied, startled.
Rosemary playfully rolled her eyes before rounding her husband's desk, leaning against the strong oak surface, "Have you heard a single word I've said?"
Lee gave a weak smile, "No. I'm sorry. Tell me again."
Rosemary gave out a little huff in mock annoyance, "I was just saying that I went to go see Elizabeth after lunch. She was so nervous, the poor dear, going back to school and leaving Jack and Thatcher alone," Rosemary kept talking and despite his best efforts, Lee couldn't seem to pay attention.
"Lee," Rosemary's voice was tinged with concern as she took in the sight of her husband. His skin had grown pale and his face had twisted into a painful expression, "Sweetheart, what is it?"
Lee swallowed painfully before handing Rosemary the telegram.
He watched as she grasped the paper. He gazed at her as she read and reread every word. His gaze lingered as she poured over every letter of the message. He studied the look of confusion, angered concerned, and wary understanding that flashed across her face.
"But he wasn't supposed to be back in Hope Valley for another month!"
"And Jack is the only Mountie less than a two week's ride away that isn't caught up in the mess up North," Lee tried to fight the bile forming in the back of his throat.
"But surely Constable Roy or Lieutenant VanNoppen could get back here in time. They're only in Fort St. John. If we can get word to them soon enough, they can be back here as soon as possible. And we have Bill."
"Bill is transporting a prisoner to Lethbridge. He just left yesterday… by the time he gets anywhere near a telegraph station…"
"He won't have enough time to come back," Rosemary finished for him.
Lee nodded, dread settling into his bones as he looked to Rosemary before glancing back to the telegram.
"Either way," Lee began, "I need to get word to Abigail… and Jack."
William laughed at Julie as she and Tom walked beside him toward Abigail's Café It had become a bit of a tradition since he had made the trek to Hope Valley two weeks ago. Every afternoon William oversee the finishing touches for Beth and Jack's house and check on the young couple and his newest grandchild. After, he would meet Julie and Tom for afternoon tea. He would listen to Julie prattle on about wedding details and he would watch as Tom watched in awe and wonder at the woman he was marrying. While it was sweet and made William's heart swell with happiness, the bitter taste of chocolate would sometimes fill his senses. How could he have been so wrong about Tom… Jack… Charles… about so many things?
Once tea was through, William would leave to collect his wife, and the two of them would take the short walk over to Beth and Jack's to dote on Thatcher and have dinner with their daughter and son-in-law. It was a routine that William had quickly grown to love and would miss dearly when he and Grace would have to return to Hamilton tomorrow.
"What do you think that's about," Tom asked, tearing William from his thoughts to focus on Mayor Stanton as she walked down Main Street towards the row houses. Most likely to Beth and Jack's. From the look on her face, the purpose to her gait, William didn't think it was a social call.
"I don't know. But it doesn't look promising," William remarked off handedly.
He gave a quick glance to Tom. His eyes looked haunted, caught up in a painful memory that he couldn't seem to shake. He had seen that look before… on Beth's face. Sometimes, when she thought no one was watching, he would catch her glance at Jack, holding Thatcher or simply taking a sip of tea while talking to Grace or Abigail, Julie or Tom, her face would grow dim and William could see the fear that still ate away at her. The understanding that her life could have gone quite differently if not for the grace of God.
William watched as Tom's studied gaze shifted from Abigail to the infirmary across the street. He watched as Julie silently grabbed her fiancé's hand, a silent signal of support and understanding.
Julie had told him about the night Jack had come home, battered and beaten, far closer to death than anyone cared to admit. Elizabeth had just given birth to Thatcher, hours before Jack had been run into town on an exhausted horse, held by an exhausted man that was close to Death's Door himself.
Julie had told him that Tom refused to leave Jack's side. He had sat outside in the cold, waiting for Dr. Carson or Nurse Carter to come out with an update on his brother. Julie and Rosemary had made sure to take out food and coffee to him whenever he was hungry. Grace and Abigail had stayed with Elizabeth, forcing her to rest with Thatcher instead of going to the infirmary herself to sit beside Tom and wait. Wait for news… any kind of news about Jack.
Anger swelled so powerfully inside William Thatcher that it stole his breath. How could he have trusted Charles so implicitly? How could he not have seen what kind of man he truly was? How could he not have known? The taste of chocolate rose up in his throat again but William pushed it down.
There was no use in regret, he reminded himself. There was nothing to be done about his ignorance and stupidity. There was only his family, his wife and daughters… and his sons.
William placed a gentle, loving hand on Tom's shoulder. The young man glanced over to his future father-in-law and gave him a weak smile. A silent thank you that warmed William's heart.
"Come on," William started, "let's get a cuppa' tea."
Abigail Stanton was a strong woman. Whether she had always been strong, she didn't know. But the misfortunes of her life had forced her to cultivate a thick skin. She had suffered the loss of her husband and son, had nearly lost her business, and had been forced to say goodbye to more friends than she cared to count. She had weathered so many storms and this one would be no different.
So why couldn't she knock on the door?
On any other day, Abigail wouldn't hesitate to. It would be like all the other times before when she stopped by to check on the Thornton household.
Jack would open the door and that boyish, joyful grin that was reserved only for her, the smile a son gives a mother. Elizabeth would wrap Abigail up in a tight hug, tucking her head into the crook of Abigail's neck, the way a daughter hugs a mother. They would both usher her in before leading her over to Thatcher's pram, where a beautiful, inquisitive, and kind eyed baby boy would be waiting for her to pick him up, arm stretched out and a toothless smile on his face.
She would hold Thatcher while Jack and Elizabeth tidied up a bit in the kitchen or finished folding clothes. Abigail would pretend not to see the tender smile Elizabeth would give Jack or the quick kiss that Jack would place on Elizabeth's cheek. She would simply smile and hold the little boy that had captured her heart and soul simply by being.
But this wasn't like any other day. She wasn't here as Abigail, Jack and Elizabeth's friend, their surrogate mother and godmother to their son. She wasn't here as a pillar of strength and shoulder to cry on. She wasn't here to partake in the love and light that radiated from the home tucked safely away behind the door that she couldn't make herself knock on.
She was here as Mayor Stanton, a citizen of Hope Valley that had promised to protect and secure all that lived there. She wasn't here to call upon Jack Thornton, her friend… in so many ways another son. Mayor Stanton was here to call upon Captain Thornton of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police.
She knew what she had to, but God… she hated it.
She could feel the weight of the telegram Lee had handed her an hour ago in her coat pocket. She knew it was foolish, but she wondered if anyone could tell it was there. If anyone could feel the heat it seemed to give off and sear into the skin of her gloved hand. She was so tired of bad news.
It was just after two. Elizabeth would have been by to feed Thatcher. She most likely wouldn't be back home until school let out, just after two. Abigail smile sadly at the thought. Elizabeth would most likely get home just in time for Thatcher to wake up from his afternoon nap. Abigail knew it made her a coward, but she was glad that Elizabeth wasn't here. She didn't think she could face Elizabeth and deliver the news that meant… goodness she didn't even want to think about what it meant.
Jack was still recovering, both physically and mentally. So was Elizabeth. She and Jack were just now starting to get into the routine of being new and inexperienced parents. Thatcher was just now starting to adhere to any routine at all. It was inconvenient to say the least… but that's not why Abigail Stanton couldn't seem to strike up enough courage to knock on the door.
Slowly, Abigail raised her hand, wrapping her knuckles on the weather door. A few moments passed until the door swung open, revealing an improving, healthy looking Jack Thornton. He was sporting a five o'clock shadow and looked a little haggard, but nothing out of the norm for a new father with an infant child. He looked blissfully happy and it took everything in Abigail not to cry.
When would he be allowed to rest? When would he and Elizabeth just be allowed to live their lives and be happy?
"Abigail," Jack smiled brightly as he ushered Abigail into the warm, cozy row house, "Come in."
"Thank you, Jack" Abigail attempted to smile, but it cam out as a wince. She attempted to cover it up but it was too late. She already saw the small crinkle on Jack's forehead as he catalogued Abigail's posture, face, and the slight shake in her voice. He watched as Abigail squared her shoulders while he hung her coat up by the door, studied the way she carried herself as she walked over to the small kitchen.
"Thatcher's sleeping, but Elizabeth should be…" Jack stopped short of finishing his sentence, still watching Abigail as she attempted to look engrossed in a painting hanging up on the wall by Elizabeth's desk, "Is everything okay, Abigail?"
Abigail's brow furrowed and her eyes darted about the room. It wasn't like her to evade. Facing things head had always been Abigail's style and Jack couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach when she finally forced herself to look at him.
"No, Jack," Abigail exhaled painfully, "I'm afraid it's not."
Jack nodded slowly. He glanced over to the kitchen, "Well, Thatcher should be asleep a little while longer. How about I put a pot on of tea and we can talk?"
Abigail gave a weak nod, "That sounds wonderful, Jack."
Elizabeth couldn't contain her smile as she walked home to start dinner for her family. It was the last night her mother and father would be in town before heading back to Hamilton. Her mother was most assuredly an angel in a past life, helping Elizabeth and Jack navigate those first few exhausting weeks of parenthood. She had been a steady, gentle hand that taught and nurtured without judgement. And her father, God bless him, had overseen the final touches on the house that Jack designed for their family. By the time spring came around, they would be able to move in and make the house their home
Elizabeth's smile widened as she glanced at a newly budding crocus growing close to the road leading to the row houses. Spring would be here before they knew it. And while she's loved having her parents here, loved the extra set of hands to help with Thatcher, she was excited to have the house be not quite so full. She was practically giddy with the thought of future nights with just Jack and Thatcher, their family of three navigating through life. She had spent months dreaming, hoping, praying for the future of her family… and here it was, all at her fingertips. Elizabeth could scarcely belief her luck.
Elizabeth glanced up as she neared the row house. Poor, Jack, she thought, Thatcher was probably awake from his afternoon nap and throwing a tantrum. He was an inherently calm, quiet baby, but he had no problem in making sure that everyone knew when he was hungry. It was one of the few traits that Elizabeth had hoped Thatcher wouldn't pick up from her. Luckily, in most ways, in the ways that mattered, Thatcher was as patient and calm as his father, something Elizabeth was more than a little grateful for.
Elizabeth's smile grew wider at the thought of her husband. He really was a wonderful father. She knew he would be, knew he would take to it like a fish to water. Viola had warned her that men tended to be hands off when it came to babies. Even Julie had warned Elizabeth not to rely much on Jack, that he wouldn't be bothered with changing diapers or helping Thatcher fall asleep at night. Elizabeth had just smiled politely and responded kindly to their words of wisdom. She loved her sisters, but they didn't know her husband.
Jack was always tentative, always made sure that Elizabeth was never overwhelmed. She would feed and he would change, that was his rule. She washed and he folded. She cooked and he washed the dishes. There were simple things that were often overlooked, but that's how Jack was. That's how he showed his love, in so many little ways that few people would take notice of. But Elizabeth did. And by God, did she love him for it. She was so blessed that he was hers. She was so proud to be his.
Jack had taken to his recovery as quickly as possible to ensure that he would be a help to her and Thatcher. His gunshot wounds were healing nicely and he had begun to take Sergeant out to ride again, taking in the fresh air and missed exercise. His shoulder was still tender and it had limited movement, but it was still too early to tell if Carson was right in his prediction that Jack would have limited mobility for the remainder of his life. Regardless, Jack was healing up nicely and his spirits were up a bit since he first returned home.
It had been a few days since Carson had told Elizabeth that she and Jack could return to… their normal activities and Elizabeth couldn't seem to contain the way her heart would flutter around Jack whenever they were alone. She had the sudden urge to fling her arms around his strong frame and kiss him senseless. The novelty of having him home everyday was still too new, too promising to pass up and Elizabeth intended take advantage of his healed body and passionate heart.
Elizabeth's smile grew wider still as she walked up the few stairs that led to the Thornton household. She turned the door knob and stepped inside, a flirtatious greeting for Jack on her lips as she turned to see him sitting with Abigail at the kitchen table. Grim looks painted on both their faces.
Elizabeth caught Jack's gaze, full of guilt and resolve as he stared at her, pleading with her to understand. She turned to look at Abigail who's gaze had suddenly fallen to the floor. Elizabeth glanced at the piece of paper sitting on the table between them; a telegram who's contents she couldn't make out from her spot in kitchen.
"Elizabeth," Jack started. The way he sounded… the low timber of his voice that he only used when he was wearing his red serge… she hated it. Hated what it meant. He was trying to prepare her for something horrible.
"What's going on," Elizabeth's voice was steady as she cut Jack off. She didn't want the build up, didn't want him to dance around whatever had so obviously shaken them both.
Jack sighed and looked down at his tea cup. For a moment he didn't answer, only serving to make Elizabeth angry and worried and panicked and confused all at once. Hadn't she been daydreaming about kissing him only moments ago? Hadn't she been in a state of euphoria and excitement at returning to school and walking home and teaching and holding her son? Why couldn't they simply be? For one day, why couldn't they all just be happy?
"It's Charles," Abigail finally answered Elizabeth, "Lee received a telegram from Charles this morning. He'll be in Hope Valley next week."
Elizabeth nodded slowly, letting Abigail's words sink in. She didn't acknowledge Jack, though she could feel his eyes on her.
"And what does that have to do with my husband," Elizabeth replied cooly, too calm for Abigail's liking.
"Constable Roy and Lieutenant VanNoppen are in Fort St. John," Jack replied, "Bill left for Lethbridge this morning and any Mountie close enough to respond is still fighting up North. Abigail has already wired E Division in Vancouver for back up, but as of right now, I am the only Mountie within a hundred miles of Hope Valley. There's a strong possibility that I will have to arrested Charles myself."
The words echoed painfully inside the cozy Thornton home. Abigail watched closely as Elizabeth took in Jack's declaration. She watched as a plethora of emotions danced across the young woman's face. Abigail couldn't recall a time in her entire adult life where she had felt more out of place than in this moment.
For his part, Jack simply waited for Elizabeth to decide on how she would proceed. There were a limited number of outcomes for the way this conversation would turn out.
Option one: Elizabeth would sit down at the table and ask for a more detailed account of everything. She would pester Abigail and Jack with questions, as if studying for an exam. Elizabeth liked to arm herself with information. As if details, facts, and figures could help her get her mind around the fact that Jack was about to be put in harm's way again. That maybe, if she studied enough, she could prevent it.
Option two: Elizabeth would yell at the both of them. She would tell them quite bluntly how stupid it was and how ill prepared they were. It was a knee-jerk reaction, one that she reserved almost solely for interactions with her sisters. Rarely did she ever react to a disagreement with Jack, or Abigail for that matter, in such an immature fashion.
Option three: Elizabeth would…
"I see," Elizabeth's voice was cold and detached, "Well, if that will be all, Abigail, I'm sorry but I need to wake up and feed my son. Thank you for stopping by. I'm sure Jack will see you out."
Calm and collected then, Jack thought to himself… damn.
There it is! Please leave a review and keep your eyes pealed for the next update!
-grayhello22
