Author's note: Thank you, everyone, for your support! I hope you will like this chapter. Finally, the wedding bells are ringing for Elizabeth and Jack. Enjoy the fluff!

The wedding is, in the children's opinion, perfect.

Even Henry has to admit that it is very nice. He is secretly proud that he is allowed to be here, among the friends and family members of the bride and the groom. Julie Thatcher is the maid of honour and she is practically bursting with joy; it seems that she just can't stop smiling. And Tom Thornton, who is so busy with work nowadays that it was not sure if he could make it to the wedding, not until the very last moment, well, the young man just can't take his eyes off Julie. Everybody in the church can see that, especially his mother - no small detail can escape Charlotte Thornton's attention but she looks pleased with everything she sees. So does Rosemary Coulter, smiling so widely as it was her own wedding. By the look she exchanges with her husband, Henry is fairly sure that both of them are recalling the memory of their special day. He does not know what is crossing Bill's mind but he suspects it has more to do with his relationship with Jack, rather than with his disastrous marriage with Nora.

Strange. Henry does not feel anything when he thinks of Nora, not anymore. Or he might feel a dull pang of regret, the shadow of what-could-have-been, but nothing more. He wishes he could say he is sad about this discovery but there is nothing inside him, absolutely nothing.

His glance shifts from Avery to Abigail. She looks happy, but her happiness, unlike the younger Miss Thatcher's, is calm and contained. She is glowing with it, like a thin thread of raw gold glows embedded in a stone. She outshines all the other guests.

Abigail catches him staring at her and flashes him a smile. I am glad you are here, it says. Now that makes Henry feel surprisingly warm in his chest. Maybe it is just a reminder from his wound that a hard rain is coming… but at least it is something. The corners of his mouth turn upward in the barest hint of a smile, quite involuntarily. He might not be completely empty.

The church is full, the last guests are ushered to their seats, and everybody is waiting for the bride. Who looks breathtakingly beautiful - and absolutely confident in her decision to marry Jack Thornton. She does not even look nervous. Usually she lacks the mature calmness that comes so naturally to Abigail, for example, but today Elizabeth seems to be perfectly composed. Graceful, elegant, yet joyous and light-hearted. Maybe finding your better half helps you to find your balance, too. Can love make you a better person? Or is it not about being better but being the very best version of yourself?

Henry does not want to think about his own very best version; that would bring some pretty grim thoughts for such a beautiful day as today.

'We're gathered here today to witness the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony…' Reverend Anderson is a bit stiff but he is conducting the ceremony smoothly.
Jack says his vows first, sincere as always, but his voice is full of emotion:

'Elizabeth, I choose you and no other. Your happiness is the only question I want to spend my life answering. Your heart is the only flame I will endeavor to keep alight. Before you said yes to marrying me, I was already yours in every way. So I marry you today without hesitation or doubt. I'm committed to you absolutely. I love you with everything that I am. Forever.'
By the time he finishes speaking, most of the women are sniffling and searching for their handkerchiefs. It is a wonder how Elizabeth does not start crying but somehow she manages to compose herself and say her vows, too:

'Jack, I never expected to find love when I came to Coal Valley. But, somewhere along the way, without even realizing it was happening, you became the most important person in my life. You're my shoulder to cry on, my favorite to dream with, and my greatest surprise. I'd offer you my heart, but the truth is, you've had it for quite some time now. So, instead I'm going to give you my soul. I love you, Jack Thornton. From chalk dust to eternity. I'm yours.'
The guests watch with watery smiles as, at Reverend Anderson's signal, Philip gives them the rings.

'I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.'

'With all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you.'

'With this ring…'

'...I thee wed.'

'It is my great pleasure to now pronounce you husband and wife. Jack Thornton, you may kiss your bride.'

The kiss is passionate but that does not make it less sweet. Quite on the contrary.

Later, at the reception, Henry gets acquainted with Mr. Thatcher. He has mostly stayed in the background, listening to the wedding toasts, raising his glass to the newlyweds and watching but not participating in the dance. However, he needs to make this acquaintance for a personal reason: he must tell something important to the proud father. Something he owes to Elizabeth but he might never gather the courage to go and tell her. So he chooses the father to finish off this task that he has set himself.

Henry starts with stating the obvious: 'You must be very proud of your daughter.'

Mr. Thatcher bows his head agreeing. Good. He does not seem to be a chatty person which will make Henry's little soliloquy a bit more awkward than it already is but at least he won't have to stay and do small talk after he is done with it.

'Your daughter did, and still does, an amazing job here.' William Thatcher does not know Henry, thus he has no idea how difficult it is for him to admit his misjudgement and praise Elizabeth's beneficial influence on Hope Valley. 'I have been living in Hope Valley for a long time now. I was already here when she arrived to the town, and I must confess that I wasn't sure that she was fit for the challenge she was about to face. Back then, for certain reasons, the community was full of hurt and mistrust. She has had a huge part in changing that.'

Henry tactfully does not mention the Thomas Higgins fiasco - initiated by Ray Wyatt, sure, but Henry played a huge part in carrying out Wyatt's plan to ruin Elizabeth's career. They ruthlessly pulled the rug out from under her, never mind the consequences.

'She teaches the children to read, to write, yes, but she gives them so much more than letters and numbers. She teaches them how to think. How to be brave and stand up to injustice. She teaches them the importance of trust. That they should trust each other and themselves. That they should dream big.' Alright, that is enough. Henry might have gotten a bit carried away. 'Your daughter has a very good heart, and the whole town is grateful to her.'

Mr Thatcher looks a bit surprised and… touched? He must think that Henry is an enthusiastic father, praising his kid's teacher. Let him believe whatever he wants.

Henry decides to go out for a short walk, he needs some fresh air. He is glad to leave the crowded room. The night is soft and warm, and for a few minutes he simply enjoys the soothing air.

Then Abigail comes into sight, walking towards the saloon, disturbing his peace. Her appearance is so unexpected Henry secretly pinches his arm to make sure he is not dreaming.

'Abigail?' he tentatively calls out, as if he was afraid that she would vanish like an apparition, like a ghost that had never been there. 'Is something wrong? Are you alright?'

'Yes, everything is perfect. I just wanted to make sure Cody and Robert went home. And stayed home.' Abigail smiles as if she was silently adding: teenagers.

She is real. Her steady voice and sweet smile are real. She is no ghost.

'And you, Henry? Are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost.'

No, I am just being stupid, he should say but he only shrugs.

'I'm fine,' he says. 'Came out to get some fresh air. That's all.'

This conversation reminds him of a previous one, when he was standing in front of the infirmary with a broom in his hand. Now he is standing in front of the saloon and he has no broom, which is certainly a development.

'Actually, I am glad that I've found you here,' Abigail says, hesitantly but still smiling. 'I've been wanting to tell you something for weeks now.'

Henry blinks in surprise. 'That… that sounds deadly serious.'

'Well, I am deadly serious when I say that I am happy that you volunteered to help in the infirmary.'

Her words make Henry feel downright uncomfortable. 'No need to make a big deal about it.'

'Oh, it's a very big deal.'

He wishes he could just leave it there but he can't do that as he owes her an explanation.

'It's very simple. They saved my life. The only reason I didn't bleed to death is that Doctor Shepherd and Nurse Carter saved my life. Because they were doing their job.' He takes a deep breath and tries to explain it more precisely, catching Abigail's slightly confused look: 'If they had been doing their job as I had performed my duties as mayor, I would have died. Being a mayor is no less responsibility than being a doctor, and I failed miserably.'

'Henry, you didn't…'

'Oh, yes, Abigail, I did. I failed. I let the people of this town down. I let you down.' Henry pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. He feels he got a bit carried away with his emotions. Maybe it is just that kind of night but still, he has no right to be upset. 'Sorry. I don't want to burden you with this.'

'It's fine. I think it would be easier a bit if you talked more about… things like this.'

'I don't want it to be easier,' he shakes his head, and it is true. He does want to feel something. Anything. He wants to peer inside himself and find... something. Nothing good comes from doing easy work, he has learnt that by now. If he wants to find redemption, he needs to enter through the strait gate.

He turns his head towards the saloon, listening to the music for a while. Thinking. Some would say brooding.

'Everyone cares so much. Everybody loves so easily. Everybody puts their hearts into… into everything,' he says finally, eyes fixed on the windows pouring warm light into the night. He does not dare to look at Abigail when he asks: 'What if I just love less than other people?'

'Do you really think that love is measurable?'

What could he say to this? Nothing. Abigail does not expect him to say anything. She expects him to think.

He can do that.

The night is young. There is a graceful cacophony of noises coming from the saloon: music, laughter, chatting, cutlery clinking… People are celebrating the union of two souls, and those are the noises of joy. Pure and selfless joy.

Henry should either keep on brooding or, just for the sake of variety, he could try to do something bold.

'Shall we…?' He offers his hand but Abigail just stares at him, stunned. Maybe a bit too bold? 'I have never been a great dancer, not even before… Well, my knee is… I would probably make the most awful dancing partner in the world, but I thought… I thought we could give it a try.' He knows he is babbling but he can't help it. 'I trust you wouldn't laugh at me. Not too loud, at least.'

Do something bold? More like do something stupid.

If he was not so occupied with feeling utterly miserable, Henry would notice how quickly the confusion in Abigail's eyes is replaced by delight. She needs to put a hand on his arm to get his attention, to coax him into looking into her face when she says, a gentle smile filling her features and her voice full of kindness:

'It would be my pleasure.'

And they dance. Slowly and a bit clumsily. It reminds Henry of that December afternoon, and his heart flutters. He must have done something right because he is still here, still alive, breathing and dancing in the moonlight. The night is young and, for the first time in a long while, his heart feels young and light, too. The air is soft and warm - almost as soft and warm as Abigail's hand in his.

It might not last longer than a song but for the time being Henry feels perfectly balanced.