The soft melody of birds chirping just outside the window, the flutter of their wings and the gentle, silky sounds of their song danced around the warm, dimly lit bedroom. Elizabeth stirred slightly as the sun's warm rays danced across the delicate features of her face and skin of her shoulders. The soft cotton of the sheets were cool and pleasant against her bare body and she stretched languidly, her muscles aching pleasantly after last night's exertions.
A soft blush bloomed across her face as her mind raced with visions of the night before. It had been over a month since Jack had been home, and nearly a year since he first left for the Northern Territories. Nearly a year without him in her bed.. without his arms around her or his lips on her skin. He had loved her thoroughly… and Elizabeth had loved him. She nearly forgot the decadent exhaustion that came from making love throughout the night….
Elizabeth shot up suddenly, gripping the bed sheet to her bare chest as she suddenly realized that she hadn't gotten up in the middle of the night with Thatcher. She hadn't fed him or changed him… she couldn't even remember him crying during the night.
Elizabeth glanced over to Jack's side of the bed. It was rumpled and cold, a clear sign that he had left earlier in the morning. She glanced at the small clock sitting on the end table by her husband's side of the bed. It was just after eight o'clock. Elizabeth had overslept.
She jumped from the bed, grabbing fresh undergarments from her dresser, and pulling on her nightgown that Jack had carelessly tossed to the ground as he pulled it off her in haste. She shoved her arms through the delicate dressing gown laying at the foot of the bed as she raced down the hall to get Thatcher up….
Thatcher wasn't in his crib.
Where the devil was he? Calm down, Elizabeth told herself. He must be with Jack. He couldn't very well escape his crib and walk down the stairs on his own. Elizabeth quickly ran down the hall and quietly walked down the stairs, searching for her husband and her son. Why did he let me sleep so late?
Elizabeth's scattered thoughts dissipated at the sight of Jack and Thatcher in the kitchen. Thatcher was laughing as Jack sang to him, his eyes never leaving the stove as he cooked bacon and scrambled eggs. Thatcher cackled as his father flipped a flapjack in the air before it fell perfectly back onto the griddle pan. Elizabeth could see Jack's dimpled grin from the foot of the stairs.
Jack was dressed for the day. His dark brown hair nearly turning golden as the sun filtering in from the windows hit the silky strands, slightly styled with pomade. He wore a navy shirt, her favorite shirt, the sleeves pushed up to the middle of his forearms and the tail tucked neatly in a pair of khaki work trousers, the cuffs stopping at the top of his work boots, laced up and tied perfectly. He had tied his boots without her help.
The thought sent a fearful chill down her spine. Jack was able to tie his boots. He was moving freely about the kitchen with no signs of pain or discomfort as he pulled the bacon, eggs and flapjacks off the stove. No grimace on his face as he lifted Thatcher out of his high chair. Elizabeth watched silently, unable to move or speak.
But then Jack smiled at Thatcher, smiled a full dimpled grin that she hadn't seen in months… maybe since he left for the Northern Territories. Jack's eyes were bright, twinkling in the early morning light. He chuckled as Thatcher produced a matching grin, a full-bellied laugh that she hadn't heard in so long…. The shear joy of it all nearly made her cry.
"Were you two just going to let me sleep the day away," Elizabeth finally spoke, a melodious, teasing tone that forced Jack to quickly turn around to face her. He rather looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Elizabeth couldn't help the lazy smile that crept onto her lips. The smile stretched further as Thatcher began to bounce up and down in Jack's arms at the sight of Elizabeth.
She glided over to her son, stealing Thatcher from his father's arms and settling him on her hip. Elizabeth stood in front of Jack, not even an inch between them. It was warm and cozy and thrilling to be so close and so open.
"I made breakfast," Jack spoke softly, his hand fell to rest on her hip. A pleasant shiver raced through her.
Elizabeth chuckled, "I have a feeling this is part of a much larger plan to get me to play hooky."
Jack smiled again and it nearly knocked the air out of Elizabeth's lungs.
"That's why I love you, Mrs. Thornton," Jack replied teasingly, his voice warm and sweet, "you're too smart for your own good."
"Thank you for the compliment, Captain Thornton, but seriously," Elizabeth tried her best to sound short and unamused, but she smiled despite herself, "who is teaching my students?"
Jack smiled again as Thatcher practically launched himself into his father's arms, earning a chuckle from both his parents.
"I spoke with Rosemary this morning. Officially, Mrs. Elizabeth Thornton is ill today and has been forced to stay home for the day. Mrs. Coulter will be teaching your students today… something about an etiquette lesson?"
Elizabeth's eyes rolled reflexively, "And what will I actually be doing today?
Jack smiled brightly before leaning down to give Elizabeth a gentle kiss, "That, Mrs. Thornton, is a surprise."
Elizabeth couldn't help the smile that formed across her face. She moved to kiss Jack another kiss when Thatcher began to cry and pull at her blouse. Jack chuckled at the sight, "Why don't you feed him while I finish getting everything ready here? I still have to put on the kettle anyway."
"That sounds like an excellent idea, Captain Thornton," Elizabeth said over her shoulder as she sat down on the sofa to begin feeding Thatcher. As he latched on to her breast, Elizabeth glanced over to watch Jack stoke the fire inside the wood stove, knowing there were few things in life Elizabeth despised more than a lukewarm cup of tea. The sight of him, the feeling of Thatcher tucked safely against her chest, and the warmth of the sun beams fluttering through the curtains left Elizabeth feeling hopeful and happy and peaceful for the first time in such a long time.
Lee took a nibble of his rye toast as he continued reading his copy of the National Post in a secluded corner of Abigail's cafe.
"More coffee for you, Lee?" Clara asked, waiting patiently for an answer. She wasn't surprised that Lee hadn't replied. It was National Post Day. On National Post Day, a tornado, earthquake, or mudslide could run right through town and Lee Coulter would still be sitting at his usual table, diligently studying stock prices and scouring over political editorials.
Lee didn't take his eyes off the paper as he answered, "Yes. Thank you, Clara."
He held his cup up, trusting the young woman to fill it with fresh, black coffee before checking on the other customers. His eyes danced across the page to the article he'd been anxiously waiting to reach.
It seemed that Bulgaria had finally lost in its attempt to gain land in Serbia. Good, they can get back to mining again. Lord knows we're only going to need more coal and oil. Wars were a nasty business, and the mess in the Balkans couldn't end soon enough for Lee. It already seemed to be settling the nervous European markets. A bright grin bloomed on his face as Lee reread the most recent market prices. Lumber shares had gone up to nearly eighty dollars since the last quarter and showed no signs of slowing down. Between the expansion of the railroad, as well as new townships and settlements, business was booming. Lee's smile grew even larger.
"Morning, Mr. Coulter,"
Lee glanced up from his newspaper to see Jeremiah, hat in hand and a small, kind smile on his face. A genuine smile graced Lee's lips, "Mr. Tremblay! How are you, sir? Have you had breakfast yet?"
Lee gestured for Jeremiah to join him at his table. The man paused for a moment, unsure if he should accept. Lee pretended not to notice Jeremiah's hesitancy. Some habits, especially those brought about by wretched means, were harder to break than others. If a man was was good, worked hard, and payed his taxes, what more could the world ask? Especially of a man like Jeremiah Tremblay, a man nearly twice his own age and ten times more hardworking.
"Please, I insist you join me, at least for a cup of coffee."
"Well…" Jeremiah thought for a moment, "I could never say no to a cup of coffee from Abigail's Cafe."
"It's settled then," Lee smiled again as Jeremiah pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat, flipping up the tea cup sitting on the table. Clara noticed a moment later and walked over to the table."
"Good morning, Mr. Tremblay," Clara's smile was bright and true as she filled Jeremiah's cup with piping hot coffee, "may I get you anything?"
"That depends," Jeremiah answered, "who's flipping the griddle cakes today?"
Clara smiled again, "That would be Abigail, Mr. Tremblay."
"Well then I'll have the Lumby, Ms. Stanton."
"Very good," Clara replied, "I'll tell Abigail to get on it!"
Jeremiah smiled kindly as Clara left the table.
"The Lumby," Lee remarked, "you must have a busy day ahead of you!"
"As a matter of fact, I'm helping the Thornton's start their move today. I'm meeting Jack at the house after a while, once he shows Ms. Elizabeth around a bit. We're gonna get to work on moving the non essentials over from the row house. Then I've got to get a jump on the table he's commissioned for their dining room. And after that, the meeting with Mayor Stanton."
Lee nodded pensively. His morning had started off so well that he'd nearly forgotten about the final meeting regarding the sting for Charles Kensington.
"I can't say I'm much looking forward to it," Lee answered honestly, "a nasty business all around."
"I agree…" Jeremiah answered, more to himself than to Lee, "I tell ya, Mr. Coulter, I'd much rather be in my workshop. I've had a lifetime of tearing down, I'd rather spend the next part of it building things up."
"Well if the tables you've made for the cafe are any indication, I'd say you'll be getting more commissions than you know what to do with. Heck, you and Jack could go into business together. He can design the houses and you can build 'em."
The two men chuckled at that before Jeremiah replied, "If the Mountie business does't work out, I'll mention it to him."
"Heck," Lee replied, "if you don't I will. That house he drew up for him and Elizabeth is a thing of beauty. I'd ask him to design something for me and Rosie if he wasn't so busy right now."
"Oh," Jeremiah started, "you and the missus looking to move?"
Lee took a long sip of his coffee, "It's always been the plan. At first, the mill was just really starting to take off and I needed to focus on the operations. Then… then everything with Jack and the Northern Territories… we didn't want to be too far from Elizabeth while it was all going on."
Jeremiah nodded pensively, "It's good of you. Of all of you. I've not met too many people that care so much about each other. That look after one another like you lot do. It gives a man hope."
"We try," Lee replied, "we're family… and that's what family does."
"Yes it is," Jeremiah nearly whispered, suddenly lost in a memory, "yes it is."
Lee studied Jeremiah for a moment before finishing, "You're a part of that now, Jeremiah."
Jeremiah's attention whipped back to Lee. The man always addressed him as Mr. Tremblay, affording him a simple respect that he'd so often been denied in life. To regard him as an equal without even knowing him. To break the norm meant something serious, something profound. Jeremiah's heart was suddenly in his throat.
Lee swallowed hard, an emotion he couldn't quite name caught in his throat, "You saved Jack's life… my best friend's life. And because of that… in a way, you saved Elizabeth's. There aren't many people Rosie and I love more than those two. And you kept them both safe."
"Anyone else would have done the same, Lee," Jeremiah started but was cut off when Lee shook his head.
"No they wouldn't have. They would have given up, ran to save themselves. You risked your life, Jeremiah. And we both know it. If it was only for that, I'd call you family. But it's so much more. You're a part of this community now. People can depend on you, do depend on you. You've brought joy and assurance to so many people since you've been here, short a time as it is. You're a part of it now, Mr. Tremblay."
Jeremiah didn't know what to say… it'd been a long time since he'd had a place to call home… a place that was safe and kind and warm….
"Well, I guess that's that then," was all he could think to say.
"I guess so," Lee replied.
The two men took a sip of their coffee.
Clara smiled brightly as she walked into Dottie's Boutique. The warmth of the afternoon sun radiated through the pane glass of the storefront. She had a dress order to complete, the stitching left to do running on a constant loop in her mind while working her shift at the cafe. Her fingers itched to get started, excited to see the order finished for the young wife of the new bank manager. If they could get Mrs. Danaher's business, it was only a matter of time before all of the newly relocated women of society would follow suit. Clara gave herself a determined grin. Time to get to work.
And then she heard a baby squeal.
Clara's determined brow furrowed in confusion as she moved from the store front in search of the squealing baby in question.
It didn't take her long.
A pleasant sight greeted Clara in the supply room of Dottie's Boutique. Julie sat on the floor, legs criss crossed while she held tightly to a wobbly Thatcher Thornton. His stubby little legs were growing stronger each day, and he had taken to standing (with the help of an adult of course) and bouncing erratically, giggling and squealing all the while. Clara chuckled at the sight, especially when Julie let out an exuberant laugh as Thatcher unleashed his already trademark dimples.
"Well done, my love!" Julie shouted, spurring her little nephew to bounce and giggle even more.
"Careful," Clara announced herself suddenly, "he'll be walking before we know it."
Julie nodded, smiling all the while, "And if he's anything like Beth and I were, his parents don't stand a chance, do they, my love?" Julie directed the question to a grinning Thatcher.
"Motherhood looks like it will suit you, soon to be Mrs. Tom Thornton," Clara teased her friend.
"I won't lie and say that I haven't thought the same thing," Julie admitted conspiratorially, "but I want some time to just be a wife for a bit. And Tom agrees. We want to enjoy each other for a time before we decide to add to our already happy little family."
Clara gave a soft smile, "A sensible decision. Only you and Tom have a say in when you have children. Don't let anyone butt in. Especially Mrs. Blakely. Florence means well… but you know how she can be."
"Boy do I," Julie remarked, "if I had a nickel for every time that woman told me I should be using carnations instead of peonies in the floral arrangements for the wedding."
Julie rolled her eyes teasingly and she and Clara laughed. Thatcher joined them, only earning him another laugh from the two women.
A moment of quiet settled between them before Julie spoke, "I'm sorry if Thatch and I disturbed you. I know you've got to finish the hem for Mrs. Danaher's dress. But it's my lunch hour and Jack came through a little while ago, asking me to watch him while he showed Elizabeth the house. It's finished, you know? They plan on moving in next week. Once this horrid business with Charles is done."
Clara waved her hand in dismissal, "If Thatcher is a distraction, he's a welcome one. It would be one thing if he wasn't the most adorable baby I've ever seen, but luckily we don't have to worry about that."
Julie chuckled as Clara sat on the floor beside her friend. Julie made the sound of a train engine as she passed Thatcher to Clara. Thatcher giggled as she made faces and funny noises in hopes that his dimpled grin would make another appearance.
"Jack Thornton, if I fall in the mud, so help me," Elizabeth threatened her husband while grasping his hand tightly, a blindfold tightly secured over her eyes.
Jack only laughed, mocking her empty threat, "I'd never let that happen, darlin'."
Elizabeth clicked her tongue in response, a silent warning of what would happen if he did in fact, let her fall. She felt Jack place a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, and all thoughts of retribution melted and gave way to a warmth that only comes from loving and being loved. It is utterly ridiculous to be so in love with one's husband, she thought.
"Alright," Jack drawled, "you ready for your surprise?"
"Yes!" Elizabeth shouted, clearly exasperated with the Jack's ruse.
She felt, more than heard, a deep rumble of a laugh from Jack as he moved to take of her blindfold. Elizabeth felt the soft fabric fall from her eyes and she looked out in front of her… and the air left her lungs.
"Oh, Jack," was all she could think to say.
In front of her was the most beautiful home she'd ever seen. It was white washed, much like the schoolhouse. A sturdy stone chimney stood on the left side of the house. A silver tin roof sparkled in the early afternoon sun, casting the building in an ethereal glow. Multiple windows were all around the house, no doubt flooding the place with a warm, beautiful light. A large wrap around porch, supported every few feet by solid wood beams and lovely spindled slats and a dark oak railing. Steps led up to a white washed porch door, and behind it a front door, painted in a radiant red.
"Do you like it?" Jack asked nervously behind her.
Elizabeth quickly turned around, tears glistening in her eyes, ready to fall, "Oh, Jack. It's perfect. I…" she turned back to gaze upon the house once more, "I saw it throughout, I knew what it would like but to see it now… finished. Oh, sweetheart. It's… perfect.
Jack smiled then, "Would you like to see how it looks inside?"
Elizabeth could only nod her head yes.
Jack held her hand while he lead Elizabeth up the front porch stairs, opened the front door, and gestured for her to walk in. It left her speechless.
A set of stairs were what she saw first. They were dark oak steps that led to a landing before turning to an end as the second floor began. A beautiful living area (empty now but soon to be filled with comfortable arm chairs and a sofa) sat to the left, along with a simple, elegant fire place. Beyond that was a small hallway, leading to a mudroom out back, with a built in bench and coat rack.
She caught a glimpse of the kitchen, big enough for a few people in at a time. Jack joked that hopefully only Abigail and Julie would make the most use of it. He earned a small slap on his arm before landing a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek. He walked her through the dining room, just off of the kitchen, a nervous, contagious energy surrounding him.
She went to open the last door on the right, but he stilled her hand.
"That's for last," was all Jack said before whisking Elizabeth up to the second floor.
First there was the largest bedroom, their new bedroom, just to the right of the landing. Large windows were flooded with warm light that made the oak floors glow. After a moment, Jack walked her to the room just down a bit from their room.
"This is Thatcher's room," Jack started, "so he's not too far from us."
Elizabeth kissed his cheek, a small reward for being such a thoughtful father.
"And these two for whoever else comes along," Jack added cheekily, waggling his eyebrow at Elizabeth.
She simply raised her eyebrow in return, a flirty smirk on her lips. Jack smiled a dipped grin and kissed her quickly before pulling her back down the stairs.
"I have one more thing to show you," Jack said as he pulled Elizabeth to the last door left to open at the end of the hall, "Now, I had a bit of help from your father for this last bit, but I promise the idea was all mine."
Elizabeth chuckled as she watched him shuffle nervously. It was adorable and suddenly she had the desire to kiss him senseless for simply being so irresistibly wonderful. And then he smiled, that deep dimpled smile that she hadn't seen in so long, since this morning at least, and she was left breathless as he opened the door….. it was a study… nearly a library. Light drenched the room from a large, beautiful wide window with soft gossamer curtains that looked out to a beautiful, freshly cut lawn and a solid work shed further back.
Jack spoke watched Elizabeth flutter about the room, completely in awe of how… right she looked moving about in the room that he had designed specifically for her. He watched as she ran her fingers over her books on the shelves, as she touched the desk that faced the large bay window that faced . He watched as she smiled at the sight of her typewriter sitting on the desk, the one that had somehow vanished a few days ago from the row house.
Elizabeth could scarcely breathe. The amber colored shelves, made of red oak, she heard Jack say, that lined three of the walls, were stuffed with books. Elizabeth walked over to one of them in complete awe and surprise as she ran her fingers over the spines, recognizing very worn copies of Pride & Prejudice, The Wizard of Oz, and Little Women. She looked further down to find so many of her favorite books from her parents library stored safely on the shelves, in the study, her study, in the house that her husband designed for her and for their family. The house with a large kitchen and dining room to hold all their family and friends. With a simple, beautiful sitting room, complete with plenty of windows for natural light, perfect for his habit of sketching once he came home from his rounds. Everything he'd shown her had been so lovingly, so carefully designed to them, to their family.
"It's so beautiful, Jack. I can't even put into words how wonderful it all is…."
"Well," Jack drawled, "I figured I should at least show you the place, just in case."
And just like that, all the air was sucked out of the room. Elizabeth quickly turned to look at her husband, who suddenly seemed so unsure and so angry with himself. He just wanted to give her a day, one full day without fear or uncertainty for what was coming tomorrow. He hadn't even thought when he had said it and now it was all he could think about, how callous and careless he had been with his words….
"Jack," Elizabeth said his name softly, and with just one word, Jack understood what she was doing. His wife was patiently waiting for him to explain, but she was also refusing to allow him to sweep his remark under the rug.
"I just…" Jack started, unsure of how to begin. From the start is usually best, his father used to say. He nearly smiled at the memory. Jack glanced down at the floor before returning his gaze to Elizabeth, standing there with love and support radiating from every part of her gaze, her soul and…. Jack suddenly felt so guilty for so many things. For leaving her for so long, for nearly making her a widow. For nearly causing Thatcher to lose his father… and to know that he was going to do it all again.
"We've had such a wonderful day and I don't want to ruin it," he tried to talk around the subject they'd both been avoiding.
"The only way you could ruin it is by shutting me out," Elizabeth answered simply, not a trace of accusation or anger in her voice, only truth and understanding, "so don't ruin it." She ended with a sad smile.
Jack mirrored hers with a sad smile of his own. After a moment, he finally broached the subject.
"Charles will be here tomorrow," Jack spoke slowly and he watched as Elizabeth's jaw clenched, "and while we have a plan, a good plan, I think you and I both have learned this past year that things rarely go to plan. And I just… I wanted to at least show you the house. Show you what I want for us… I wanted to show you that I built a place for you and Thatcher, that you'll always have a place to call home, no matter what happens to me… if one day I don't come home."
Elizabeth could scarcely breathe. It was the first time either of them had talked about anything happening to him… of him not coming home to them.
"Jack," Elizabeth couldn't seem to find her voice.
"I love my father, even now, when I've spent more of my life without him than I have with him," Jack couldn't seem to stop talking now, the words flowing out of him and freeing him and easing a weight that had settled in his chest so long ago… since his father died, "but he never prepared us. Me and Tom… my mother."
Jack broke eye contact with Elizabeth, his eyes searching the room, full of books and knowledge and answers to every question except for the one he seemed to be searching for… how best to say something he'd bottle up since his father had died….
"He always promised to come home, Elizabeth. He always promised that he would be okay and then one day he was gone. And it broke all of us. I saw what it did to Tom and my mom… I know what it did to me. And as much as I love my father, I will always hate that he did that to us, that he left us so unprepared to handle life without him… especially when he always knew the risks… when he surely knew better."
Elizabeth walked across the room and wrapped her arms around Jack, hugging him tightly to her for a moment, only pulling back slightly, "and you don't want that for me and Thatcher."
Jack nodded fiercely, "I can't promise you that this won't happen again. That I won't get hurt or have to leave you and Thatcher. The world is getting bigger and smaller all at the same time… and there are new dangers every day. I guess… if I decided to continue on with the Mounties… knowing what we both know now, would it be enough? To know that.… I can't promise certain things…"
Elizabeth studied her husband for a moment. The exhilarating light of his gaze that had shone from the moment he had opened the door to the study, had dimmed slightly, a sure sign he was worried about her answer. A week ago, Elizabeth would have been angry with him for doubting her. But after their talk last night and all of their previous conversations before…. how could she make him understand? How could she make him understand that she needed him as desperately as he needed her?
"I once told you that I didn't know if I was brave enough to love someone as brave as you," Elizabeth spoke softly, "It scared me… to know so assuredly that I loved you, to know that you were the one I was meant to build a life with and yet to know how broken I would be if I ever lost you. So I ran back to Hamilton. I tried to fit back into my old life… safe, comfortable… peaceful. And I hated it. I hated how simple it was, how boring, how utterly easy it all was."
Jack lowered his gaze to their hands, clasped tightly together. He wanted to say something, she could tell. But he couldn't seem to find the words just yet. That was fine, Elizabeth decided. She had plenty more to say.
"I once told you that I didn't know if I was brave enough to love someone as brave as you… and I'm not, Jack."
Jack's head shot up suddenly, with no small amount of fear in his eyes. Elizabeth smiled sweetly, eyes glazing over with tears as she held up a soft, gentle hand to his sandpaper cheek, "I'm not brave enough on my own…. but you make me want to be. Loving you… having you love me back, it is worth every fear, every uncertainty. You make me braver than I've ever been in my life."
Jack scoffed, "You left your entire world behind to teach in a frontier town in the middle of nowhere. If that's not brave, I don't know what is."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes playfully, "That is much different than giving away your heart to someone. That alone offers no guarantee of safety, let alone when you fall in love with a dashing, daring mountie. And in that regard, I was a coward for a very long time. Too long."
"Elizabeth, we were both cowards in that regard," Jack refused to let her take all the blame when it came to the calamity that was the beginning of their relationship. He had been just as scared, just as prejudiced and judgmental, "I gave you plenty of reasons to walk away. I know I can be stubborn and —"
"But you've never been a liar, Jack," Elizabeth cut him off before he could finish, "and while life is uncertain, I can always count on you. To love me, to love Thatcher. To try your best to be a good man and to own up to any shortcomings. I've never expected our life to be easy. You never promised me that. But you did promise to love me, to celebrate the joy and to hold me in the sorrow. You promised to dance with me in the rain…Jack, what more could I ask for? You've given me everything I was so scared to want… so scared to admit that I needed. So long as you're here… even in the hurt and the chaos and the uncertainty, I know joy. I know peace."
Jack kissed her then, pulling her close and wrapping her up in his strong, yet tender embrace. Elizabeth did the same, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, refusing to ever let him go. Charles Kensington, drug lords and gun runners be damned… none of them could ever have Jack Thornton. He was hers for all time.
"I'm yours, Elizabeth," Jack whispered between kisses, "always."
"And I'm yours, Jack," Elizabeth whispered back, "til kingdom come. Now let's go get our son and go back to the house. And get ready to move to our new home."
Jack hummed slightly as he looked around the room and then down at her, "Home," he said, his voice raspy and low, sending a shiver down Elizabeth's spine, "I like the sound of that."
Elizabeth smiled as she pulled away from him, tugging on his hand and leading him out of the study, "You say that now, but I expect Thatcher to be quite fussy in a new place. I doubt we will be getting much sleep when we finally move in next week."
"Well we aren't going to get much sleep anyway," Jack replied flirtatiously, "one way or another."
"Jack Thornton!" Elizabeth tried her best to sound scandalized and failed miserably.
The train's whistle screamed into out into the night. Steam billowed around his feet and the musty, stuffy breeze of the city seemed to suffocate him. He watched silently, as people shuffled around him, desperate to get wherever they were going, some with purpose, others with no direction. He watched in annoyance as couples kissed goodbye and loved ones embraced once more before departing from one another. They were fools… the lot of them.
Shouts from the conductors, of cabin boys and luggage carriers shouting orders and fluttering about, and the shrill sound of the train whistle mixed together in a strange, unwelcoming cacophony. He should have been used to it by now. He had traveled on countless trains, though always from the safety of his first class compartment. He had seen the metropolises of Vancouver and Montreal. He'd smelled the salty air of the port cities of Halifax and St. John, and each time he'd always returned home to Hamilton and the unwelcome cacophony of shouting conductors, luggage boys, and that damn train whistle.
Charles moved to pull out his handkerchief and held it up over his nose and mouth, trying desperately to block out the smell of burning coal and hot bodies and steam. It reminded him so much of the pathetic excuse of a train depot that he was headed to.
"ALL ABOARD! LAST TRAIN TO UNION CITY! STOPS IN WINNIPEG, SASKATOON, AND HOPE VALLEY! ALL ABOARD! LAST TRAIN TO UNION CITY! STOPS IN WINNIPEG, SASKATOON, AND HOPE VALLEY!"
Charles grunted in annoyance before shoving past an immigrant family, trying desperately to talk to one of the yard masters about something. He couldn't care less. All that mattered was the pick up. God, he thought to himself, he really needed to find a runner he trusted to pick up the take.. and soon. There had been too many close calls as of late and he needed to distance himself as much as possible…. if only that Mountie hadn't thrown such a wrench into his plans with capturing Lao.
"Unfortunate," Charles muttered to himself as he went over the difficult decisions he'd been forced to make recently… sending a group of hired guns to protect Lao…. sending a group of hired guns to kill him before the Mounties got him… hoping against hope that maybe one of the slain mounties had been Jack Thornton. The disappoint to learn that he'd survived… but just barely. At least he'd be out of the way for the time being. Just enough time to pick up the latest take and find a runner to carry on after.
"LAST CALL! ALL ABOARD! LAST TRAIN TO UNION CITY! STOPS IN WINNIPEG, SASKATOON, AND HOPE VALLEY! ALL ABOARD! LAST TRAIN TO UNION CITY! STOPS IN WINNIPEG, SASKATOON, AND HOPE VALLEY!"
Charles walked over to the first class train, handing his ticket to the taker before stepping onto the train. He found his compartment quickly and stored his suitcase in the compartment above. Damn, he thought to himself, he really needed to find a runner he trusted to pick up the take… and soon.
