SUNDAY
"Are we going to talk about it or not," Rosemary's questions cut through the white noise in Elizabeth's mind.
It was a beautiful Sunday and a beautiful sermon from Pastor Hogan echoed in her ears as Elizabeth sat on the back stoop in the Coulters' fenced in back yard. Spring was finally beginning to break out from underneath the cold hard ground beneath their feet. The sun was bright and warm and Elizabeth sat outside, sipping on a strong cup of tea as Thatcher slept in his bassinet just inside the house.
"Talk about what," Elizabeth answered, trying her best to sound aloof and failing miserably.
Rosemary lowered her head and gave Elizabeth her trademarked, pointed gaze, "You know what. The fight that you and Jack obviously haven't had yet about his harebrained scheme to arrest Charles by himself."
God Bless Rosemary Coulter, "So you think it's idiotic too?!"
"Of course I do," Rosemary replied quickly, waving her hand absentmindedly before sitting beside Elizabeth on the stoop, reaching for a cup to pour herself some tea, "He's barely healed as it is. I would think it's ridiculous if Jack was in tip top shape. Desperate criminals are not to be trifled with and Charles Kensington is most definitely a dangerous criminal. It's at least a two man job."
Elizabeth could have cried with relief, "Thank God," she breathed out easily, "Thank God I'm not the only one who thinks so."
"Of course you're not. Lee said the exact same thing just last night. That's why he offered his help to Abigail this morning before church."
Elizabeth's head whipped around so fast that Rosemary was genuinely surprised when her friend's neck didn't snap, "I'm sorry… what did you just say?"
Rosemary took a breath, "Lee offered to help Jack arrest Charles. So did Pastor Hogan and Henry Gowen. They all spoke to Abigail this morning before church."
"I see," was all Elizabeth said as she took a careful sip of her tea.
Rosemary watched her friend carefully, studying the calm, cool and carefully constructed facade Elizabeth had been sporting as of late. It was unusual for Rosemary to be unable to read her friend like a book. For all her social graces and high society upbringing, Elizabeth had no poker face whatsoever.
"He won't be alone, Elizabeth," Rosemary began slowly, unsure of how best to approach her friend, "Jack's strong and capable of doing his job, even if he's still recovering. And he won't be alone."
"I know," was Elizabeth's reply, "that's not what I'm upset about."
Ahh! Now they were getting somewhere, "Then what is it, Elizabeth?"
"I wouldn't even know where to begin."
MONDAY
Elizabeth walked into the row house quietly, careful not to wake Thatcher prematurely from his afternoon nap. After taking off her coat and placing a stack of book reports on her desk, Elizabeth turned and walked into the kitchen. She immediately noticed Jack sitting at the dining table, papers strewn about. They looked like case reports and correspondence from Mountie HQ. Jack looked up from his work as she closed the door.
"It's almost time for Thatcher to wake up," Elizabeth's voice was clipped as she walked past the sink, careful to maneuver around Jack as she began to pull out ingredients from the icebox to prepare dinner.
"I know," Jack's voice was soft and kind and it set Elizabeth's teeth on edge, "I was just going to finish up this report before I got him up."
"Well do it soon, please. I don't want him to sleep too long or he'll never get to sleep tonight."
"I know," Jack replied. Elizabeth could hear the weariness in his voice as Jack stood up, carefully stacking his papers together and placing them next to her students book reports. Silence engulfed the room once again.
"Elizabeth," Jack spoke softly as he approached Elizabeth, "We need to talk."
He watched as Elizabeth began to move about the kitchen, refusing to look him in the eye as she went about beginning to prepare their supper. For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer him.
"Were you aware that Lee, Gowen, and Pastor Hogan told Mayor Stanton that they would help you arrest Charles when he arrives next week?"
Dammit… Jack thought. When will Rosemary learn to shut her mouth, "I was going to tell you…"
"When, Jack," Elizabeth whipped around to face him as she place the cutting board down on the table by the sink, "after you and Abigail devised your plan to arrest a drug lord with the help of a pastor, a gimp ex-con, and a saw mill owner?"
Jack grimaced, "I only just found out this morning when I went into town to talk to Abigail."
"Ahh… you talked to Abigail again. Perfect. And did you at least have someone watch our son while you ran your errands?"
"It was only for an hour and your sister watched him," Jack said through clenched teeth, trying desperately not to get his annoyance get the better of him, "but thank you for thinking so highly of me as a father."
Elizabeth held back a wince at her husband's tone, watching regretfully as Jack walked up the stairs to wake their son.
TUESDAY
"Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees."
Julie paused for a moment as she let the recited words roll off her tongue, "What a perfect poem you picked out for the children to study today, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth smiled softly as she sat next to her sister on the front steps of the schoolhouse. Her students frolicked in the meadow as the new Spring sun shown brightly above them. The ground was slightly damp and muddy as the last of the snow finally melted and gave way to the crocus and tulip blossoms just beginning to peak out from beneath the dirt. Spring had finally arrived in Hope Valley.
"I thought it an apt selection," Elizabeth spoke softly as she took in the sight of the children laughing and playing so freely. She gazed enviously at their carefree spirits… she couldn't remember the last time she had felt as light and free as her students so obviously felt.
"And just in time, too," Julie continued to talk, seemingly oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts racing through her sister's head, "I was starting to worry that it wouldn't ever arrive and that we were going to have to have it in the saloon."
Elizabeth fought to keep from rolling her eyes at Julie's incessant prattling, "Jack and I had our reception at the saloon and it was lovely."
It had been lovely. There had been singing and champagne that the bar tender, Mr. Sloane, had apparently been saving for a special occasion. Abigail had prepared a lovely meal and half the town toasted to Jack and Elizabeth well into the night. And Jack had held her closely and tenderly as they danced and danced until it was time to go home and….
A pain settled into Elizabeth's chest as she reminisced her wedding day and night. It left her breathless, how much her life had changed in such a short time. A little over a year later from the day, Jack was home and they had a son. A little over a year ago she couldn't contain the joy radiating from her soul as Jack carried her over the threshold of the row house and she had led him upstairs to the bedroom… and now they were barely speaking.
Elizabeth missed her husband, missed her friend. She had been missing him for nearly a week… ever since she had walked in on a secret, hushed conversation between Jack and Abigail. Since Abigail had so callously decided to pray upon Jack's sense of duty and stubborn pride to bring Charles Kensington. She had been missing her husband since he, still recovering physically and emotionally, had so recklessly decided to arrest Charles Kensington, a man she had known since childhood and once cared deeply for… a heartless and ruthless man.
She was being harsh in her assessment of Jack and Abigail. She knew, deep down that they were both just doing their best to do what was right… to protect and serve as they had both sworn to do… but God was it killing her.
Elizabeth stood up suddenly, startling Julie slightly as she walked down the small flight of stairs in front the schoolhouse towards the children dancing and running in the meadow. Spring had arrived in Hope Valley but winter still raged inside Elizabeth Thornton's heart.
"I can't believe how big he's getting," Tom whispered as he watched a dozing Thatcher smack his lips lightly before twitching and settling further into sleep, "I swear he's taller. He's definitely got more hair."
"I know," Jack chuckled quietly, "And it's starting to curl. Did you notice?"
"And it's getting lighter, almost red. I hope he's not a ginger, Jack. What will we do with him?"
Jack laughed out loud at his brother's ridiculous teasing. It felt good to laugh.
Tom was always good at that, Jack thought to himself, reading the room and knowing when to crack a joke. Did he know how desperately Jack needed to laugh and feel light and free?
"You and Julie can take him," Jack teased, "Elizabeth and I can try again."
Tom smiled slightly, a sense of panic coursing through him, "I don't think Julie and I will be having kids for a while yet."
"You say that," Jack started, "but you never know. Besides… it's the best thing you'll ever do with your life. You'll never be ready for it, but it will always be worth it."
"Is this what marriage does," Tom began to needle Jack (goodness, he had forgotten how much fun it was to tease his older brother), "turns you into a philosophical type that waxes poetic about love and fatherhood?"
Jack gave a soft smile before falling silent. He watched Thatcher sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the harsh world that lingered just outside the walls his warm and cozy home.
"Maybe," Jack said after a moment, "but I think it's more than that."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked earnestly.
Jack's eyes narrowed in concentration, "I think it just makes you realize how much it all means… how important everything is. It's the small things that add up to the things that matter. Like remembering how she likes her tea and making a cup for her. Or the way she hums your favorite song when you have a nightmare," Jack nodded to Thatcher's tiny, sleeping form, "It's the feeling you get when he tucks himself under your chin, so trusting and so peaceful in your arms. It makes you realize just how precious and fragile it is."
Tom smiled softly, a sense of calm washing over him as his brother continued, "Don't take anything for granted, Tom… do everything you can to protect it."
Tom watched as Jack stared off into the distance, his mind wandering far from Hope Valley. It was so unlike his brother to be so distracted, so distracted by the future and unable to focus on the present. It was happening more lately.
"We're not talking about the wedding anymore, are we?" Tom asked, already knowing the answer.
Jack whipped his gaze back to his younger brother, his eyes narrow and an apologetic scowl etched onto the contours of his face, "I'm sorry, Tom. My mind got away from me."
Tom knew. He knew that Jack was worried about Charles' immanent arrival and all it would entail. He knew that Pastor Hogan, Henry Gowen, Lee, and even Jeremiah Tremblay had offered to help Jack bring him in. But it did little to settle the fear in Tom's heart. His brother was strong and skilled at his job, of that Tom had no doubt. But Jack Thornton was still just a man… a man who had very nearly died barely two months ago. At the end of the day, Captain Jack Thornton was, most importantly, just his brother…. And Tom refused to live in a world without him.
"I can help, Jack," Tom whispered, almost conspiratorially, "I can help you bring him in…. Let me help you."
No sooner had Tom uttered the words than the air in Jack's lungs dissipated. Horrific memories of the Northern Territories flashed through his mind. A bullet rocketing through Fraser's head. Shelby and Ouimet's bodies falling with a sickening thud on the cold hard ground… except they looked like Tom. Their screams were Tom's… and Jack couldn't do anything. He couldn't save his brother and couldn't stop the death and destruction coming. It made him want to vomit.
"No," Jack's voice was tight and hoarse, full of an emotion that Tom couldn't quite place but chilled him to the bone, "no. You'll stay out of it and that's the end of it."
A painful silence engulfed the brothers.
WEDNESDAY
Jack bounced a smiling Thatcher on his knee as he sat at the kitchen table, entertaining the curios little boy as Elizabeth finished the final touches on dinner.
"So Carson stopped by today," Jack started cautiously. He watched Elizabeth tense slightly, her shoulders going taught, her back going ramrod straight.
"What for," was her clipped response.
"He wanted to check on my progress. Apparently he was already out checking on Jeremiah so he decided to see how I was doing," Jack moved Thatcher so the baby was sitting upright on the table top. He smiled and giggled as Jack puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was about when she caught the tender moment between father and son. Thatcher had nearly hurled himself onto Jack's chest, and Jack cradled Thatcher close to him. She watched as her husband placed a gentle, reverent kiss atop her son's dark hair. Then Thatcher unknowingly hit a little too hard on Jack's shoulder, right over the newly healed ball socket joint. Elizabeth didn't miss the obvious wince that flashed across Jack's face. She turned back around to pull two bowls out from the cupboard and dish out some of the beef stew.
"What did he say," she asked earnestly.
Jack smiled briefly at her as Elizabeth placed a bowl of stew in front of him before taking Thatcher and placing him in the play pen that Jeremiah had finished making just last week.
"He said that I'm healing up nicely. He finished taking out my stitches and he's happy with how much I'm able to move and use my shoulder. He's still not sure that I'll be able to get full range of motion back, but he's happy with the progress I've made."
A weak smile danced across her face. She was happy, truly. She hoped and prayed every night that Carson's early diagnoses had been wrong, that Jack would fully recover and he could go on being a Mountie. She knew, better than most, how it felt to have your purpose, your life's work ripped away without the promise of it ever returning. She would never wish that existence on anyone…. So she prayed for Jack, helped redress his wounds, and recover his strength. And it had worked.
"That's wonderful, Jack," Elizabeth answered softly. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Jack's cheek. Jack gave Elizabeth a small smile in return and took her hand in his. For a moment, there was peace between them. He lifted Elizabeth's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss over her wedding and engagement rings.
Elizabeth's breath stilled. The last time he'd done that, he'd left for the Northern Territories, leaving Elizabeth alone and crying silently as she watched Jack and Sergeant ride out of sight and out of Hope Valley. It was suddenly too much and not enough and Elizabeth wanted so desperately to kiss him senseless and to let her anger and fear just go. Jack was here and he was safe and honestly wasn't that all she really wanted?
"He also said that he think's I'll be able to get back to work soon," Jack added on softly, almost shamefully.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, jaw clenched painfully as she quickly pulled her hand away from Jack's, "Well… that's good news, too. I know how cooped up you've been. I'm sure you're ready to get back to it. Catching bad guys and whatnot."
"Elizabeth," Jack started…
"You should start eating before the stew goes cold."
And suddenly they were a thousand miles apart again. Elizabeth had retreated and Jack was left with nothing to do but miss the feel of her hand in his as he watched Elizabeth pick at her bowl of stew.
THURSDAY
Abigail sipped slowly from the blue willow china teacup before setting it back down onto her desk. She felt the warm, amber liquid run down her throat as her mind raced and planned and tried to pick apart every last detail.
"Let's go through it one more time," she said calmly as she looked over the correspondence on her desk.
Jack took a deep breath, "Charles will be in Hope Valley in five days. As far as he knows, I'm out of town with Bill in Lethbridge to testify in several trials of criminals captured in the Northern Territories," Jack paused for moment, letting Abigail mull over the beginnings of their plan of attack. She nodded slightly, signaling for him to continue, "Lee will meet Charles at the train station and will take him over to the mill to discuss their shipping contracts."
"Where Lee will mention the new parcels of land he's now allowed to cut on," Abigail jumped in, the dots beginning to fully connect in the plan she and Jack had been drawing up for nearly a week, "including several spots by the mine."
"Where Joshua drops the payload every three months," Jack finished for her, "and where Lee's workers have cut down several trees that will provide excellent cover for us as we corner Charles at the opening of the mine."
Abigail nodded again, "And he will have nowhere to go once inside the mine entrance?"
Jack shook his head, "No. The main shafts were closed off about two years ago. Jeremiah and I went in yesterday to double check. There is nowhere for Charles to hide."
"And what about Joshua," Abigail questioned, trying desperately to find any flaw in their plan, any place that might make Charles suspicious and panic before they could catch him red-handed.
Jack smiled slightly, ever impressed by Abigail's sharp mind and attention to detail, "We have made sure to allow Joshua to continue his correspondence with Charles. Charles is unaware of Joshua incarceration and has no reason to suspect that the money won't be in the mine just like it always is. The day of, Joshua will be out of custody and back to work at the railroad. Tom will directly supervise him for the day, so as not to rouse Charles' suspicions if he comes looking for Joshua. And that is as much as Tom is allowed help. Don't let him tell you otherwise."
Abigail took another sip of her tea, the soothing liquid calming the unsteady beat of her heart, "What will you do once you've caught Charles with the money?"
"Frank and Gowen will approach the entrance from the left, Jeremiah and I from the right. Once I see him grab the money cache, I will call out for him to exit the mine slowly with his hands in his air. If all goes well, I will arrest him then and there. If not… it's four against one and we will have a few Lee Enfield rifles to boot. Plus, Constable Roy and Corporal VanNoppen left Fort St. John last week. Their last checkpoint was in Grand Prairie where they will take the train to Union City. Barring any unforeseen complications, they will be back in Hope Valley the day Charles is scheduled to arrive. If we're lucky, Frank, Jeremiah and Gowen may not even need to be involved."
"And you're sure that you don't need anymore help," Abigail questioned. The plan was sound, to be sure. She knew that Jack was thorough and cautious. She knew he wouldn't try to be a hero… but she also knew that Jack would do anything to make sure that no one else would be put in harms way. If it came down to it… she hated to think about it… hated to think about that horrible night not so long ago that Jack and Jeremiah had ridden into Hope Valley, closer to death than anyone would care to admit. If it came down to it though… Jack wouldn't hesitate to put himself into harm's way in order to protect the innocent.
"I'm sure, Abigail," was his simple reply.
Abigail nodded slightly. She started to say something but caught herself. Jack took a deep breath, knowing what she wanted to ask… she'd asked him the same question so many times already. And every time he gave the same answer.
"There is a very real possibility that this will end with Charles dead," Jack said matter-of-factly, "I've done this enough times, Abigail. Men, like Charles, that are caught and cornered tend to react violently in an attempt to flee. If that happens, I don't want Lee or Tom anywhere near it."
Abigail watched him closely as Jack finished, searching for any concern or uncertainty. She found none. And Jack… Jack took comfort in the compassion and understanding in her strong, unfailing gaze….
"I'm sorry for getting Frank involved, Abigail. I know… I know he's put that part of his life behind him but…"
"Frank knows how to handle himself," Abigail finished for him, "He knows how to deal with criminals because he was one, Jack. I understand. And Henry, for all his faults, can talk a Scotsman out of a penny. He may be able to get Charles to calm down if things go south. And…."
"He's also good in a fight," Jack finished for her, "And Jeremiah is terrifying so long as you don't know him. He could probably rip Charles' arms off if he wasn't such a God-fearing man."
Abigail smiled despite herself at the thought of Jeremiah. A kinder man never existed, of that she was sure.
"It's a good plan, Abigail," Jack cut through her wandering mind, "it will work."
"I know it's a good plan, Jack," she replied, "and you're right, we need to act immediately… we can't put it off but…." Abigail looked up at him, eyes filled with pooling tears, "Son, I worry for you. I worry that this will be too much for you. That you'll be hurt again… or worse."
"Abigail," Jack started to reply, only to have Abigail shush him, placing a loving, motherly hand atop his.
"I know you're good at what you do, Jack. You're an excellent Mountie and a true guardian. But I love you, my boy. I love you as if you were my own son and I worry so. I'll always worry."
Jack turned his hand over to grasp Abigail's tightly in his, "I love you too, Abigail. You've been… you're a mother to me. I hope you know that. I hope you know how blessed I am to have you in my life…. It's going to be alright, Abigail. I know it will."
A tender moment passed between them before Jack spoke again, "Well, I told Julie I would only be gone for an hour…. I should be heading home."
He stood up without even the slightest wince or grimace, Abigail noticed… a sure sign of incredible healing from his grave injuries. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Jack's remarkable recovery. She could hardly contain her relief in knowing that Elizabeth would never know the never-ending pain of being a widow.
"How is she," Abigail asked quietly just as Jack was getting ready to walk out the door.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder and Jack's heart nearly broke with how old Abigail suddenly looked. Her face, normally so full of life and wisdom and humor, was crestfallen and unbearably sad. In that moment she looked every bit of her fifty aught years.
"She's okay. She's angry and sad…. She misses you. I know she does, Abigail. Don't give up on her."
"On Elizabeth?" Abigail chuckled softly, "I've learned never to count her out. Rest assured, Jack Thornton. We'll get through this."
Jack smiled weakly before closing the door behind him.
Jack was quiet as he walked into the row house. He watched for a moment, as Elizabeth tucked Thatcher into his high chair and began setting out the dishes for dinner. It was a sight he'd dreamed of often since she had first written that she was pregnant. It was one of so many moments that he'd hoped for, a dream just out of reach that he kept fighting for. And now here it was, his wife and child, safe and sound. They were both so close that if he wanted, all he would have to do is simply reach out and touch them. Except it wasn't that simple.
Elizabeth was still so distant, so revered in a way she hadn't been since that horrible mess in Hamilton nearly four years ago. It scared him, how impossible it seemed to reach her. But still, Jack knew that if anyone could help her get through this… help them both get through this, it was Abigail Stanton. If only he could get Elizabeth to talk to the woman.
Jack walked over to the kitchen counter and stood closer to Elizabeth than he had in a week. He watched her carefully, his mind working over every possible way to start the conversation that they needed to have. She ignored him and continued to gather the dirty pots and pans into the sink, pumping water over the dishes before working the ivory dish soap into a lather. She learned it was best to let the dishes soak for a few hours and -
"Are you going to say something or just stand there," Elizabeth sounded exasperated and Jack would have chuckled if not for the seriousness of what he was about to say.
"Be mad at me," Jack spoke softly, calmly as he stared deep into Elizabeth's stormy blue gaze, "Be mad at me as long as you like… whatever you need to do to be okay. But for your sake, just talk to Abigail."
Elizabeth lowered her gaze…. She wasn't quite ready to face how horrible she'd been to Abigail since that fateful day that threatened to shatter her world. But no! She wouldn't give in… not now…. Not yet.
Jack paused and took in a deep breath. Elizabeth's jaw was set but he could see the twinkling of regret in her eyes. He drew even closer to her, as if trying not to scare away a skittish animal. Gently, ever so gently that it took her breath away, Jack placed his strong hands on Elizabeth's slender shoulders. He moved to pull her closer and she let him.
She missed being close to him. The scent of him surrounded Elizabeth and for a moment she let herself get lost in the feeling of his presence. Jack's aftershave, mixed with his peppermint toothpaste and the lingering smell of pine needles that never left him no matter how many times he bathed or washed his clothes, surrounded her and made her feel safe and loved and by God she was so tired of being angry with him.
"She's your best friend, Elizabeth," Jack whispered, "You need her and she needs you. So be mad at me. Yell at me, curse me… but please forgive Abigail. None of this is her fault. And you know it."
Jack didn't give Elizabeth a chance to respond. He simply walked over to the table, sat next to Thatcher, and began dishing out the shepherd's pie onto her plate first, then his. Elizabeth watched as Thatcher giggled at the sight of his father.
"I know, pal," Jack answered his son's laughter, "it looks great, doesn't it!"
FRIDAY
Elizabeth timidly rapped her knuckles against the back door of the cafe. It was so strange, waiting for someone to answer the door. On a normal day after school, Elizabeth would simply walk in, a warm smile on her face as Abigail called out to her from the dining area to tell her to put the kettle on for their tea. But it wasn't a normal day… it hadn't been a normal day since Lee received a telegram from Charles Kensington. Since the man she'd known since childhood, the man her parents and older sister had wanted her to marry once… had sent a telegram that forced her husband back into the dangerous world his job required him to navigate… to leave her and Thatcher yet again and… Stop it, she told herself. He isn't going anywhere. He's right here. Please just let it go, just stop….
"Elizabeth," Abigail's startled voice pulled the young woman back to reality.
"Hello," was all Elizabeth could think to say, "I, um… I was just…"
An awkward silence fell between the two women. Elizabeth was about to turn and leave, so unsure of herself and what she wanted… what she needed to say to her friend.
"Would you like to come in? I just put the kettle on."
Elizabeth could have cried at the utter kindness in Abigail's voice and the acceptance and compassion in her tender gaze. But instead, she gave a teary nod, and Abigail ushered her inside. Elizabeth sat down at the table while Abigail busied herself gather two cups, sugar cubes, and cream for their tea….
"I don't know how to reach him, Abigail," Elizabeth finally admitted what had scared her for so long, her secret fear she'd tried so hard to bury, "Jack has always been private, shy even. But he's never… the moment we said we loved one another, he's been open. I've always been able to reach out and find him. We've always been able to talk, even about hard things. But since he's been home…. I've tried to reassure him, Abigail. I've tried to help him and I thought we were getting somewhere but then…"
"Then the telegram from Charles came in."
Elizabeth nodded, trying desperately to hold back the tears forming in her stormy blue eyes, "I don't blame you, Abigail," Elizabeth sobbed, practically begging for Abigail to understand, "I never blamed you… I was just so upset and I… I needed someone to be angry with."
"I know, Elizabeth," Abigail's voice was calm and quiet as she reached over with her handkerchief and blotted a stray tear from Elizabeth's cheek.
"It was wrong, Abigail. You didn't deserve it and I'm so sorry… you'll never know how sorry I am to have treated you so horribly."
"But I do, sweet girl," was Abigail's soft reply.
Elizabeth's eyes went wide, confusion setting in her brow. Abigail swallowed a sip of tea before she spoke again.
"When Noah and I first moved here, I wasn't much older than you are now. We were just married and far from our families. We relied so heavily on one another, Elizabeth. We were all each other had…."
Elizabeth watched as Abigail's mind traveled back in time. Her eyes cloudy with a memory of long ago… something that once caused Abigail great pain, but now served as a happy reminder of the love of her husband and the life they built together.
"One day," Abigail continued, "there was an accident at the mine. One of the shafts caved in and killed about five men… injured a dozen more. Noah got out, thank God. But… he was different. He was so sad, Elizabeth. All the time… and angry. Things that never bothered him before would set him off like a switch. He would never yell at me or anything like that… but he was so closed off, Elizabeth. So distant and cold and so unlike the man that I'd married."
"Jack gets that way, sometimes…" Elizabeth started, "it's never directed at me or Thatcher… but I can tell it's just there, simmering underneath the surface. And no matter how many times I ask… not matter how many conversations we have, I know that he's holding something back."
Abigail nodded before continuing, "He wouldn't talk to me about it, either. Wouldn't tell me what happened… what really happened. I knew the details of course, the facts… but you and I both know that facts are only a small part of the story."
"What did you do?" Elizabeth asked, hoping against hope that Abigail would have the answers she so desperately sought.
"I yelled at him," Abigail stated, "I had only ever yelled at him one other time for as long as I'd known him. So when I yelled, when I told him to talk to me or else… well he listened. He knew… he knew that if he didn't tell me, didn't really let me in… it would break something between us. So he finally told me what happened….He didn't try to help anyone. He wasn't alone in that, most of the workers ran out as quickly as possible. But it… he hated himself for it, Elizabeth. He learned something about himself that he never thought would be true."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, studying Abigail's face in hopes of a clue as to what she was getting at. The older woman smiled weakly at her friend as she continued, "He ran, Elizabeth. Instead of being brave or heroic like he thought he would, he ran… and it broke something in him, Elizabeth. Something that never really healed. He played at it, acted like he had moved on… but I knew, I knew that it hurt him to know that he could simply run."
"But he told you," Elizabeth remarked, "he talked to you and let you in."
"Yes," Abigail nodded her head, "yes, he did. But not until I dragged it out of him. It was weeks, Elizabeth, weeks of skirting around one another and all the feeling we were both trying desperately to stamp out."
Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly, a single tear falling from the corner. She couldn't imagine living like this for weeks. It was killing her after just a few days.
"Elizabeth," Abigail said as she grasped Elizabeth's hand from across the table, "You and Jack…you love each other, more than anything… don't let your anger and your fear cover that. You know how precious it all is… you know how close you've already come to losing it."
"But that's just it, Abigail," Elizabeth pleaded, begging her friend for an answer she wasn't sure existed, "it is precious… and so precarious. So why is he so willing to throw it all away?"
Abigail paused, searching for a way to help her friend… her daughter, to understand.
"Maybe he's not throwing it away," Abigail spoke softly as she stroked the back of Elizabeth's hand, "maybe he's fighting as hard as he can to keep it safe."
SATURDAY
Jack walked in silence up the hill to the house he'd designed so many months ago. The entire house had been painted an eggshell white, clean and fresh and bright. The wrap around porch was welcoming and protected by an angled tin roof. It was big and warm and everything Jack had hoped it would be. Elizabeth had already started packing things up in the row house to be moved into their new house… their forever home. Jack smiled slightly at the thought…. Even in the midst of their fight, Elizabeth was working towards their future, planning and preparing for the weeks and months ahead. It gave him hope… that maybe there was a chance to mend what he had unwittingly broken between them.
The sound of a hammer and saw pulled Jack from his somber thoughts. He looked out to the shed back behind the house and could see a man working inside. A quick look and Jack quickly realized that it was Jeremiah. A small smile crept up on Jack's tired face.
He walked quietly into the shed, watching as Jeremiah pulled a pencil out from behind his ear, marking the bottom of a table top before working on the table leg beside him.
"How's it coming, Mr. Tremblay?"
Jeremiah looked up from his work, a bright smile plastered on his face. He walked around (Jack noticed that his limp was getting better) and pulled the young Mountie into a fierce hug.
"Well, hello, Jack!" Jeremiah's deep, baritone voice rumbled in his chest and put Jack at ease for a moment, "How are you on this fine, spring afternoon?"
"I'm alright, Jeremiah…. I'm alright."
He hugged Jeremiah before pulling away, walking over to admire the master carpenter's work. A few weeks ago, Abigail had commissioned Jeremiah to build several new tables and chairs for the cafe. Jack and Elizabeth had kindly offered him the shed behind the house to use as a workshop since Jeremiah didn't have anything permanent set up in Hope Valley.
Jack watched as Jeremiah walked back over to his work, picking up a chisel and hammer, beginning to create notches for the table legs. Jeremiah continued to sand and scrape millimeters of wood off the table top he was working on, running his calloused hands over the smooth Manitoba maple. The deep reds and browns of the wood were warm and inviting, perfect for the cafe.
"I should commission you build one of these for the house," Jack said with a smile, trying desperately to change the subject.
"Nah," Jeremiah spoke without looking up from his work, "it's too small. I'll make ya a long one, big enough for you and the missus, your brother and his wife, and as many kiddos as you and the missus can fit around it. I'll get to work on it as soon as this business with Mr. Kensington is taken care of."
Jack gave a soft chuckle as he pictured the sight. Abigail, Rosie, and Tom arguing about the cooking while he, Elizabeth and Lee sat out on the front porch and watched their kids running and playing in the front yard while Julie chased them. He could see countless dinners and Sunday roasts, full of love and laughter that made his heart sore with how happy he was. But then he heard the last bit of Jeremiah's sentence… this business with Mr. Kensington.
Suddenly, Elizabeth's appeared in his mind. The look of sudden betrayal and confusion on her face as he and Abigail explained what was to be done. The way she had retreated into herself anytime he tried to hold her hand or kiss her cheek. The long, painful silence that radiated between them after they put Thatcher to bed, laying in the warm feather bed he'd promised her years ago, their backs to one another and a million unspoken words between them.
"I worry, Jeremiah," Jack whispered softly, in the confidence of a friend that understood all too well what Jack had been through… what they had both been through, "I'm scared that I've hurt her… hurt us in a way that I can't fix."
The older man, his dark skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, finally looked up at the young man he called his friend. Jack's head hung low, his shoulders sagging, so deeply lacking the confidence and conviction Jeremiah always saw in his strong frame. His hair was falling slightly over his forehead, lacking the hair pomade he had taken to brushing through his hair since returning to Hope Valley. For a moment, Jeremiah could so easily picture what Jack must have looked like a a little boy, slightly shy and aware of his place in the world, but never ashamed or sorry for it. A quiet young man that so desperately wanted to prove himself to the world and live a life of purpose and conviction.
"You ever read Persuasion, Jack? By Jane Austen?"
Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion, completely caught off guard by Jeremiah's question, "No… what does that…."
"It's about a woman," Jeremiah cut him off, "Anne Elliot, who fell in love with a Captain Wentworth. He loved her back. He asked her to marry him and she said yes but her family… her family convinced Anne to break off the engagement."
Jeremiah watched as Jack tried to follow what Jeremiah was talking about, though clearly unsure of why a book written nearly 100 years ago pertained to their conversation. Jeremiah held back as a chuckle as he continued.
"Seven years later, the meet again. They're forced to attend parties and galas and interact with one another when it's clear all both of them want to do is run and hide. Finally, it all comes to a head. They start talking about war and the men say that it's those fighting the war that have it the hardest… but Anne… Anne says it's the women that have it the worst. The men… they had to fight, they could tune out everything else and concentrate on what needed to be done. They had some say in their fate… or at least a fighting chance to have a say in it. And they weren't' alone. Soldiers had each other to rely on, to depend on. But the women? All they could do was wait… with only the promise of hope that everything would turn out okay. They couldn't shoot fear with a bullet. And every day they waited and prayed and knew that no amount of it would do anything."
Jeremiah paused to let Jack catch up, but it was clear that the young Mountie was as lost as ever. He leaned in close to his friend and finished.
"For nearly a year, Elizabeth was alone and out of control of her life. Sure she had her students and planning her sister's wedding. But the most important part of her life… her family with you… it was out of her hands. She had no say, no power, nothing to do but wait and pray and feel utterly useless in the fight. And then you came back and for a moment… just a moment… she didn't feel helpless anymore. She was able to breathe, for the first time in months, probably. She didn't' have to worry 'bout you dying or getting hurt. She didn't have to think 'bout the possibility of a life without you and the fear of the what that meant."
"Elizabeth's strong," Jack argued, "she's independent and capable. If… if something happened she would have been okay."
"She would have been okay, of that I'm certain… but she wouldn't be whole. And neither would you be if something happened to her. Would you?"
Jack lowered his head again, "No… no I… I think I would lose my mind if I ever lost her."
Jeremiah nodded, "When you love someone… the way you two love each other, it's like finding a piece of your soul that you didn't know was missing. And to have that ripped away… it's a terrifying thought… never being whole again. No matter how strong and brave you are… that's something you don't come back from. It changes you. And Elizabeth knows that, figured that out the minute we came riding in to town and Dr. Shepherd told her that you might die. And she couldn't do a damn thing about it…."
"And now I'm asking her to do it again… asking her to…"
"You didn't even ask, Jack. She came home and found out that you'd made the decision for both of you."
"But I'm not wrong, Jeremiah," Jack interrupted, "I know I should have talked to her but this is the right thing to do. Charles has to be stopped and we don't know if we'll ever get another real chance to catch him redhanded. The law enforcement on his payroll are locked up. We have most of his associates in Hamilton locked up or working as informants. He's getting sloppy and scared and this is the right time to strike."
"I know," Jeremiah agreed, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "But that's not what I'm talking about here, Jack. I'm talking about the fact that one day, Elizabeth thought everything was fine and then in one minute, simply by opening and walking through her front door, the rug was ripped out from under her… and by the person she trusts and depends on the most."
Jack went pale as Jeremiah's words washed over him. Guilt and remorse etched into every contour on his face.
"She's been living on faith for a long time now, Captain… I think she's allowed a moment or two of doubt every now and again. She deserves your patience and your understanding."
Jack took a deep, settling breath, "I know… I know."
After a pause, Jack looked up at Jeremiah, puzzlement an amusement dancing in his eyes, "What on earth were you reading a Jane Austen book for?"
Jeremiah laughed, a warm, deep belly laugh that made Jack smile in return.
"You ever read a Jane Austen book," was Jeremiah's response.
Jack shrugged, "Can't say that I have."
"Well ya need to. Damn good reading… that Austen was a helluva writer."
SUNDAY
"Are we going to talk about this," Jack finally broke the silence that had festered between them since Elizabeth had walked in on Jack and Abigail's conversation over a week ago.
"Why?" Elizabeth asked calmly, "You already decided about what was to be done. There's no point to discuss it when you've made up your mind for the rest of us."
"If you want to be mad at me, fine," Jack tried not to but he could here his voice grow louder as their discussion began to escalate, "but please don't shut me out, Elizabeth. We have to talk about this."
Elizabeth let out a mirthless laugh, "That's rich coming from you."
Jack closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying desperately to remain patient, "Please try and be reasonable, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's vision went red. Any speech or kind word she had prepared for this moment flew out of her mind and all that was left was the bitter resentment she felt towards her husband. Of all the weeks he had let pass without confiding in her, all the weeks he had kept her and their family at arms length. Rational thought escaped her as all of the angry, destructive emotions she'd try so hard to hold back came rushing to the surface,.
"REASONABLE? You want reasonable! Fine! You've only just now started to get back to your normal routine," Elizabeth huffed, clearly frustrated with Jack's stubbornness, "You've already popped your stitches twice picking up Thatcher and once riding. You can't properly hold your gun yet, and you still need me to help tie your boots up, Jack. I'll be reasonable when you acknowledge how utterly stupid all of this is."
"I am perfectly aware of how much of a burden I've been, Elizabeth," Jack nearly snarled, his voice sharp and cold.
"Don't put words in my mouth, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth spat out through clenched teeth, "that's not what I said and you know that is not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Elizabeth?" Jack was practically shouting now and Thatcher began to cry in his crib down the hall.
"I mean to say that you're in no position to do this! You're still recovering, we still don't know if you'll ever be able to use your shoulder properly again! Why can't you stall this? Talk to Joshua, see if he can convince Charles there's no money yet from the most recent shipment. Buy yourself some time. You're smart! Come up with something!"
"You and I both know that Charles is too smart for that!" Jack countered, "He will know in an instant that something is wrong and if he does, the entire thing could blow up in our faces. We have to catch him in the act, Elizabeth, or he walks! He gets away with it! Why are you being so stubborn?!"
"Why are you so hellbent on dying?! Do you have to follow so faithfully in your father's footsteps?!"
"That's not it at all and you know it, Elizabeth," Jack spat out. Elizabeth tried hard not hear the pain in his voice. It was a low blow and she knew it. She had picked at a wound that would never fully heal; the loss of his father, the hate for the ones who had taken him, the sorrow he still held deep in his heart for his mother…the weight of abandonment that Jack only ever admitted to Elizabeth. It was a horrible jab and Elizabeth wished she could take it back.
"Be fair," Jack pleaded with her. And wasn't that so like him, Elizabeth thought to herself. Always one to take a step back from his anger and try to see things from her point of view. So calm and careful not to throw out hurtful words in retaliation. But Elizabeth was tired of it. She was tired of her husband's careful speech and measured words. Jack had been tiptoeing around her for weeks, refusing to fully let his guard down, especially around her, lest he be found out. He was holding onto something, a poisonous secret that was killing him. She had thought their talk the night of Teddy Cooper's death would have helped but….
"Oh you want me to be fair now," Elizabeth sneered, "I thought you wanted me to be reasonable!"
"I want you to understand that I have to do this!"
"THEN TELL ME, JACK! QUIT PUSHING ME AWAY," Elizabeth was shouting now, loud and deep throated. She was on the verge of crying and she hated herself for it. She was so tired of crying, so tired of trying to be understanding and supportive and brave, "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST TALK TO ME!"
Elizabeth was breathing heavily now, pain and anger etched into every curve and contour of her face. Jack's blood ran cold at the sight and his ears began to ring with the sound of Thatcher's cries. Elizabeth's jaw clenched before she calmly walked out of their bedroom and into Thatcher's nursery, leaving Jack alone.
She tried to settle herself, calm her racing heart and stop the tears in her eyes from falling. Elizabeth walked over to her son's crib to see his face scrunched up as a piercing wail left his small, downturned mouth. She bent down and tenderly scooped up Thatcher in her arms, rocking and cooing softly as she did.
Thatcher squirmed and fussed as Elizabeth rubbed soothing circles on his back, taking in the feel of the soft cotton of his pajamas. She listened as Thatcher's cries subsided, his ragged little breaths fading into a peaceful inhale… exhale. Elizabeth closed her eyes to the quiet, savoring the weight of her son against her chest and the feel of his tiny hands clasping the fabric of her shirt. Her son was safe in her arms and Jack… Jack was safe down the hall. That's what mattered, Elizabeth reminded herself. This is all that matters.
A few minutes passed before she felt Thatcher fully settle and slowly drift back to sleep. Elizabeth rocked him gently for a few more moments before placing a tender kiss across his downy head and breathing in his clean, sweet scent. She walked back from the crib slowly and closed the door behind her as she left the nursery.
Elizabeth could feel his eyes on her the minute she entered into their bedroom again. She could feel him settle behind her before wrapping his strong, warm arms around her waist. Elizabeth couldn't stop the tears from falling now, couldn't stop the sob from rising up in her throat as she covered his hands on her stomach with her own. She couldn't stop the relief that flooded her as she felt Jack place his chin on her shoulder and whisper in her ear, "I'm sorry."
They stood together, clinging to one another. Elizabeth concentrated on the steady, solid weight of Jack against her. She could feel his arms constrict and relax around her as he breathed in and out. Elizabeth turned around and lifted Jack's head from the crook of her neck to place her forehead against his and the young couple stood in silence, "What I said, about your father," Elizabeth whispered, disgusted with herself, "I didn't mean it. It was wrong. I'm so sorry."
"Elizabeth," Jack started, "It's okay."
"No it's not," Elizabeth refused to look him as she continued, "I did it to hurt you and you don't deserve that… Never that, Jack," she finished as tears rolled down her eyes.
Jack placed a gentle hand under Elizabeth's elegant chin and forced his wife to look him in the eye, "It's okay, darlin'. Truly. I understand why… I do. And you're right, I've held back and you don't deserve that. You've always been honest with me and I should have been honest with you from the beginning but…" where to begin….
Tears filled his eyes and his shoulders slumped, defeated and… tired. He was utterly exhausted and Elizabeth was finally able to see it. She'd been so happy to have Jack home, to have her husband and her newborn son together… it was a beautiful distraction from the utter devastation that still had Jack's heart in a vice. She had the sudden urge to hold Jack tight to her chest, to feel him burrow into the side of her neck. But she didn't. She waited for him to finish so they could finally, truly begin to heal.
Elizabeth had him dead to rights. Despite their talk weeks ago and so many other talks since, Jack had kept so much from her. His guilt, his grief, his anger… they were ugly pieces of his heart that he had refused to let her see. Logically, Jack knew that it didn't matter. Elizabeth's love was absolute. It wasn't judgmental or predicated on his actions. Elizabeth loving Jack was synonymous to breathing. The way she loved him, the way she simply was, was all the proof Jack needed to believe in a God. Someone like Elizabeth could only have been purposefully created, designed with a delicate thoughtfulness beyond that of man. And while the thought usually gave Jack comfort, her love now made Jack fill guilty… made him feel like a fraud, scamming her and the perfect little world that was their son.
What would she do once he told her everything, once he laid the broken pieces of his heart out for her to collect? Would she even want them?
"Did I ever tell you how Sergeant died," Jack's question caught Elizabeth off guard. Her eyes narrowed in confusion and she shook her head. Jack nodded and took a breath.
"We had been chasing some of Lao's men for a few weeks. The snow was starting to melt and mud pits started forming nearly everywhere we went. We had to pull the horses through the worst of it. Sergeant got stuck," Jack paused, the memory of it so vivid and painfully clear. HE closed his eyes and took a breath as Elizabeth rubbed up and down his arms, waiting patiently for him to continue, "He broke his leg and… I had to put him down. I shot him right between the eyes so he wouldn't suffer."
Tears fell silently down Elizabeth's cheeks as she watched Jack as he swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep from crying. There was nothing to say, nothing to ease the pain of losing such a friend. She simply held her husband close as Jack began to speak again.
"I watched him die, watched his body just… crumble and fall to the ground. But I didn't feel anything Elizabeth," Jack admitted shamefully, "I just felt numb. Sergeant fell and all I could see were all of the men I had killed. How many men had I shot between the eyes and watched fall? And then I just couldn't think… I couldn't feel…. I was just numb."
"I learned something about myself, Elizabeth. Something I didn't think could ever be true. I just stopped caring. It cost too much to care up there. Somewhere along the way I shut myself off from the world and… God, I don't even know how to explain this."
Frustration radiated off Jack and he pulled away from Elizabeth, crossing the room to stare out at the waning moon through the bedroom window. Jack's hands raked through his hair and in the pale light, he looked half crazed.
"You were protecting people, Jack" Elizabeth whispered, "They were bad men that needed to be stopped."
"Jeremiah isn't bad," Jack interrupted softly, "and neither is Joshua Chang… not really. I'm not justifying what they did, Elizabeth. But… were they really given any other choice? Joshua Chang did the right thing," Jack continued, his voice tight and sharp, "he went to the authorities, he asked for help, and he was turned away. Jeremiah too. They tried and tried to do the right thing and the wold just wouldn't let them. People like me, who swore to protect people, turned them away."
And suddenly it clicked. The words he'd been searching for for weeks finally collided in his head. Everything he'd wanted to talk to Elizabeth about… the words were right there.
"I've spent my entire life, devoted my entire life to working for a system that is so… broken! And it's used to justify horrible things. It's okay to lie, it's okay to trade lives for secrets and bits of information that don't amount to anything. It's okay kill in the name of King and Country."
Elizabeth watched as Jack leaned against the wall next to the window. His head fell against the glass as he took a deep, painful breath, "I left you… I left you and Thatcher and for what? To become a killer? To watch men die and fall to the ground and to feel numb and not care? It was a waste, Elizabeth. I gave a piece of my soul to that cause and it's such a waste. I was careless with my heart and yours. I was careless with our family and our future…And I hate myself for it, Elizabeth. I hate that I've lost faith in so many things… my purpose, my life's work… Elizabeth, I can't remember the last time that I prayed…. I don't want to talk to God and it's killing me…" and maybe that was the most shameful thing of all.
"I'm lost, Elizabeth. I'm adrift and I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back to who I was. I want to. I just… This has to mean something, Elizabeth. The time I was away from you, the blood on my hands, all of the death and destruction. I have to make sure it means something."
And then everything made sense to Elizabeth. Jack's determination to heal was as much to ready himself for the next fight as it was to help his family. His detachment from her and Thatcher wasn't a lack of interest but a means of preparation to do what had to be done. Jack had been preparing for Charles' arrest and whatever that entailed… lies, bribery, violence if necessary. Jack had been willing to sink to a level he deemed unforgivable to protect the people he loved… and he thought it made him lesser, a shell of the man he'd always tried to be; for his family, for her, for himself. There was a darkness in him that up until recently, Jack hand't known existed.
A painful silence engulfed the two of them. Jack stood ramrod straight as his hands grasped the window frame, still gazing out at the moon as if searching for an answer to make sense of it all. Elizabeth watched him, breathless at the man before her. He wanted more than anything to be a good man. Jack was lost and scared and unsure of himself and the world. And yet he persisted.
He refused to give in the darkness rising up within him. He was still fighting, still clinging desperately to what it meant to be good. And he was, by God he was the best man she'd ever known. In spite of everything… no… because of everything he had been through.
Jack remained close to the window, as far away as he could get from Elizabeth in the room while he poured out his heart to her. He was still so far away from her, too far away from where he was meant to be… beside her. How could she reach him? What could she possibly say to make him understand….
"When Tom first told me that you were brought in to town," Elizabeth started, "when Bill told me everything that happened… I wanted to find the men who hurt you and kill them myself. And then when we found out that Charles was responsible… I wanted to kill him too. I wanted to make him suffer the way he made you suffer. I wanted him to know the pain and fear I felt every moment I thought I might lose you."
She had never said it out loud, never even fully said the words in her mind, even though she knew God could hear her every thought. It was too hard, too horrible to even think about. To want someone's life to end… but more than that, to want to be the one to end it? Elizabeth never knew she was capable of such hate.
Suddenly, Jack had turned to face her, tears welling in his eyes as Elizabeth bared her soul to her husband… as Jack had done for his wife moments ago.
"I wanted to ring his neck and rip his heart out all at once. I wanted him to feel the terror and the helpless that I did while I waited and prayed for you to wake up. I wanted him to suffer, Jack. I still do."
Elizabeth watched as Jack walked across the room and back to her. She breathed a deep sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth nearly smiled as she felt the tension leave his body as Jack tucked his chin into the crook of her neck.
"I don't give a damn about what happens to Charles. And I hate myself for not caring and I worry that one day, you'll see that part of me."
Elizabeth pulled away from Jack slightly, just enough to look him in the eye, "But then I remember the way you love me, Jack. It's absolute. 'It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.'You, loving me, it's like breathing, Jack. The way you love me, the way you simply are…, it's all the proof I need to believe in a God. To believe in forgiveness and grace… for the chance to have something I could never earn or ever be deserving of… I understand, Jack. I understand."
Jack didn't even attempt to stem the tide of tears flowing down his sandpaper cheeks. He didn't stop the soul shaking sigh of relief that left his lungs.
"I love you, Elizabeth," was all he could manage to say as Elizabeth pulled him into a fierce hug. She kissed his cheek and ran her slender fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. They held tightly to one another, refusing to move an inch from the other, "I love every part of you. Nothing you could do would ever make me stop loving you."
"Even when I shove my cold toes underneath your leg?" Elizabeth smiled slightly as she teased him.
"Especially then," Jack replied with a weak chuckle, "it's one of the things only I know about you. That your toes are like ice and you refuse to wear socks to bed."
Elizabeth huffed out a laugh as tears spilled down both their cheeks.
Jack smiled, a deep beautiful dimpled grin that stole her breath. Elizabeth could spend the rest of her life trying to make him smile.
And just as quickly as it had appeared, Jack's grin vanished as he pulled Elizabeth closer still, tucking his head in curve of her neck, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm sorry if I made you believe I was unhappy here. I'm angry and I'm scared. I feel guilty for being alive when so many good people aren't. But I've never been unhappy here… with you and Thatcher. Sometimes… sometimes you're the only reason I get up in the morning."
Elizabeth's heart broke as Jack's words tumbled out.
"I love you, Jack," Elizabeth whispered so softly into his ear that he barely heard it, "I love you so much it makes heart sore. You trust me with all the parts of you, the good and the bad. You forgive so freely and love so fully. I'm in awe of you. You're the only person I trust all the parts of myself to. The good and the bad. You're the only one worthy of it. I thank God every day for you. And when you can't, I'll thank God on your behalf for as long as it takes for you to trust Him again."
She could feel the tension leave his body as Jack breathed in and out. He could feel the weight of her fear dissipate as Elizabeth's head came to fully rest on his good shoulder. They stood there, happy and free and at peace.
Jack pulled back to gaze at Elizabeth's face, her beautiful blue eyes and her soft, rosy cheeks. Kindness, patience, and absolute love radiated from her face and it took Jack's breath away. So many things in this world were inconsistent and ever changing. So many questions about his life, his faith, crowded his thoughts and made him dizzy. But Elizabeth Thatcher, she would always be Elizabeth Thatcher to him no matter how many times someone called her Mrs. Thornton, not matter how many times his stomach would somersault when she introduced herself as Elizabeth Thornton. She was his constant, the immovable object that his world revolved around. He didn't know if he could ever pray for himself again… but for her? He would get on his knees every night and pray for her… for Thatcher. How could there not be a God when people like Elizabeth existed?
And suddenly Elizabeth was kissing him and goodness it had been so long since she'd kissed him. Then, she was unbuttoning his shirt as Jack pulled hers loose from her skirt. Her mouth moved down his neck as his hands moved to undo the clasp on her skirt. They were tumbling onto the warm feather bed. Jack lay on his back as Elizabeth traced the beginning of a scar with her lips. Elizabeth gasped as Jack pulled her closer and kissed her senseless….
