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And the Heart is Brave
Chapter 9
"Mrs. Thornton!"
Elizabeth Thornton, a basket handle grasped in both hands, stopped on the sidewalks of Hope Valley, twirling around to see who had called her name.
"Mrs. Thornton!" came the call again, as Elizabeth spotted Superintendent O'Reilly of the North West Royal Mounted Police hurrying across the street to her.
"Superintendent," Elizabeth greeted pleasantly as he came up abreast of her.
Slightly out of breath, the superintendent began apologetically, "Mrs. Thornton, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time?"
"Of course!" Elizabeth replied.
The superintendent quickly looked around him, hoping to scout a quiet place to talk, and, not finding one, again adopted an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry to do this here on the street, but I'm on my way to Buxton and I'm afraid I only have a few moments to spare."
"Of course," Elizabeth said, wondering what this was about.
"It's just..." the superintendent paused, part to catch his breath, part to add solemnity to the moment. "It's just I have something of your late husband's and I wanted to deliver it to you personally."
"Jack? You have something of Jack's?" Elizabeth said in surprise.
The superintendent was nodding. "I was cleaning out some files at headquarters in Union City and I came across this," he said, holding out a manila folder to her. "I thought you might like to have it."
Elizabeth set her basket beside her on the sidewalk and reached for the folder. She turned it over in her hands and saw it was unsealed. She looked up to meet the superintendent's eyes and saw him give a gentle nod to her. So Elizabeth looked down at the folder, prying the edges apart to peer inside. She saw a piece of paper, no, it was thicker than paper, and she reached in to pull it halfway out. It was a photograph, or a collection of photos, oval portraits of young men attired in Mountie uniforms, their small individual portraits arranged symmetrically on the page. Elizabeth sucked in her breath when she recognized one of them. One of the portraits. Jack. Only this Jack was young, very, very young, boyish almost.
"Jack's graduating class," the superintendent informed her. "From the academy. Class of '05."
Elizabeth studied the photo a moment more, then tucked it back inside the envelope. She would study it more at home, in privacy. "Superintendent, this was...I am...this was very kind of you," Elizabeth said, almost overwhelmed with gratitude. She had a sudden urge to hug the superintendent, might even have leaned in his direction, but his sudden wide eyes at her perceived attempt stopped her and she hid a smile. No, she thought, she didn't suppose one hugged a superintendent. "I'm very grateful to you for bringing this to me," she said instead.
"Mrs. Thornton," the superintendent began, then dropped his voice a little. "Elizabeth," he switched to the more warm and intimate appellation. "None of us will ever forget Jack, nor his service. And I want you to know that even though Jack is gone, you are still part of the Mountie family. You are still one of us," he said, something in his demeanour imbuing Elizabeth with a rush of emotion.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said simply.
Suddenly the superintendent straightened and stepped smartly back, first one leg then the other. Slowly, staring straight ahead, he raised his right arm and touched the brim of his hat with his fingers, palm out, and held it there a second or two before releasing. Understanding the gesture, a rare one given a civilian and in her case one conferring the utmost respect, Elizabeth felt tears sting the back of her eyes, as she nodded acknowledgement to him, then watched him turn and leave.
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Alone in her rowhouse, and Little Jack asleep upstairs, Elizabeth finally sat at the kitchen table, the manila envelope before her. Slowly she pulled the photo from inside, all the way out this time, her eyes once again falling on Jack. How young he looked, she thought, and a small smile came to her face, gentle and tender. She was surprised that she felt no sting of pain to look upon the photo, there was only a feeling of bittersweet remembrance.
Elizabeth reached out and rubbed her finger across the photo, then smiled again as her eyes dropped to the name printed below. Jack Thornton. Elizabeth took a deep breath. She would keep this for Little Jack. So he would know what his father looked like as a young man, as a young cadet, just starting out his life and his career. Elizabeth sighed again. Then she began to study the other photos. Young men all of them, only a dozen or so of them in the graduating class, a small number to be sure, but all of them looking bright and eager and hopeful. And proud. Elizabeth glanced from one portrait to the next, studying them all. Suddenly she stopped at one, frozen, stunned, her breath caught in her throat, unable to be released. For she knew this one too. He was ten years younger too but she recognized him just the same. Her eyes dropped to the printed name below, knowing even before she read it what it would read.
Nathan Grant