If you are a follower of Cowboy, you know I like different. Well, this is one is VERY different. For starters, it's written in the first person, something I've been wanting to try for a while. Second, if you are looking for a wholesome take on J&E like from the show, this is not the story for you. Feel free to give it a chance though. I think you might like it anway. I've had a bit of fun with this being in the first person. You get a glimpse of Elizabeth's thoughts as she moves through her life. Cowboy is a very different take on Jack, this one is a very different take on Elizabeth. Knowing how I write and what I've just told you, should prepare you a bit for this one.
This story will NOT come with STEAM ALERTS...although it is VERY PG13 and filled with steam. Just not the kind of warning that Cowboy has brought. So, I hope this opens this story up for those of you that don't care for all those details. But don't get me wrong, there is definitely fire involved.
I hope you enjoy Stolen Hearts, and please, leave a review and let me know how you felt. Thank you.
I do not hold the rights to the names used in this story, they are characters from Hallmark's When Calls the Heart.
PROLOGUE
My name is Elizabeth, and I just celebrated my fiftieth birthday. I have not lived the life I dreamed of. I doubt many of you have. No one could have predicted the events that unfolded to bring me to where I am today. But I lived it. I survived it. And most of the time...I loved it in one way or another.
Like most little girls, I fantasized about my knight in shining armor riding up on his white horse and whisking me away to his giant castle nestled in a grove of redbud trees. My wedding would be the envy of all my friends with a million flowers, hundreds of guests, and six white doves released into the sky. The dress would consist of a long white train reaching the back aisle as I stood next to my groom. I would be holding a bouquet of the deepest red roses anyone had ever seen. And my groom, well, my groom was always Mario Lopez.
I was twelve. Mario was every girl's dream that year. I have since grown up and no longer think of Mr. Lopez in that manner, though he is still adorable.
My knight hadn't ridden up on a white horse liked I'd dreamed. There have been a few homes, but none were a castle, not to the outside world, anyway. I had a beautiful wedding, but I didn't get the feeling that my friends were envious. My dress was breathtaking, though the train was modest and short. And my bouquet? Well, I had to keep part of the dream - deep red roses.
Don't get me wrong, I love my life, but we must learn that even though things may not work out quite as you imagined, you must find the gold buried deep in the life you've been given.
Everyone's story is different, but every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This is my story.
CHAPTER ONE
I was sixteen years old when I met him. I thought he was to die for. His eyes were pools of liquid sapphire that I found myself swimming in every time I looked at him. My friends told me his name was Jason. Jason Matthews. He was eighteen and a senior, and just as he'd caught my eye, I had caught his.
After a week of whispers, glances, and questioning each other's friends, Jason finally asked me out. I thought my dreams were really coming true. We had become an item, the hottest item in school. Our love for each other, at least what I thought was love, had grown fast and hard. We spent every moment possible together: every weekend, every sporting event, every dance, every study hall.
We dated through the summer after his graduation, and then he left for college. He broke up with me before he got into his rusted blue Honda Civic and drove away. He left me standing alone in his driveway, crying so hard his car was only a blue blur as he vanished over the hill.
I was broken. I cried for weeks. It was time for school to begin again, the first day of my junior year, and I begged my mother to let me stay home. She, of course, would not allow it. She picked up my backpack loaded with my new school supplies, held it out for me to take, and told me to get my little butt to school before my father came in.
I did. And I cried some more.
My friends tried to console me to no avail. I saw Jason's face in every hall of that old brick building. He was in the art room, the band room, the cafeteria. He was everywhere. I couldn't shake the ghost of my first true love, and I was certain my life was over. When I found out later, he'd been skirting around behind my back, a wave of embarrassment replaced the tears.
One day, halfway through the school year, a new boy arrived. He was very cute. Golden blond hair, blue eyes, and a complexion that made you think he'd grown up on a beach. His name was Beau Nicols, and when he smiled, the whole room lit up. He'd snatched the gazes of every girl in school with his surfer-boy look, including mine.
Lexi, the most popular girl in the junior class, hung on his arm and was certain he'd ask her out. But he didn't, and she was appalled. He'd been there for a week, and only one girl in the school had caught his eye. Only one girl he was interested in getting to know.
Me.
That Friday after gym class, Beau asked me out. And for the first time in months, I didn't think of what's-his-name. We went to the movies that night and saw Cast Away, starring Tom Hanks. The movie was long but very good, and by the end of the two-and-a-half hours, his hand had migrated into mine. And like Jason, from that moment on, Beau and I had become inseparable. I thought I had loved Jason, but from the moment Beau held my hand, I knew it hadn't been.
We dated the remainder of that year, through the summer, and into our senior year. Lexi glared at me every time I passed her in the hall, but I didn't care; Beau and I were in love, and I wanted everyone to know it.
As our senior year crept closer to the end, I began noticing a change in Beau. He never pressured me to sleep with him, but with taunting from his buddies, he began to hint around that he wanted me to. On prom night, he'd rented a room at the local hotel, and when I refused to go with him, he did what I never thought he would. He dumped me.
Lexi had been waiting in the wings for her chance to pounce on him, and the second she heard we'd broken up, she had her claws in Beau. And he had her in his bed.
And once again, I was left crying.
With three torturous weeks remaining of school, I had avoided Beau the best I could and suffered through Lexi's pompous bragging until graduation day. Once I had my diploma in hand, the necessary photos taken with my friends, and the parties behind me, I never looked back.
At eighteen years old, I packed everything I owned and moved into the city. I was attending college at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. The land of the Hawkeyes in a sea of black and gold. I found a job just two blocks off campus and worked every hour possible. I found a cheap apartment and put up an ad for a roommate. Once Rosemary moved in, and we split the bills, my savings account began to grow.
I immersed myself in my studies. I was going to be a graphic designer and wasn't about to allow another Jason or Beau to sideline me from my goals. Between scholarships, grants, and a few small loans, I paid my way through school and continued to save my money. Halfway through my sophomore year, I had saved up more than enough to purchase a better car. I held the keys in my hand to my new-to-me Chevy Impala, and the feeling of empowerment it gave me was surprising. I didn't need a man. I was a capable woman and could take care of myself. That moment built my confidence, and I could see a change in myself.
My studies were going wonderfully. I held a 4.0 GPA and was on the Dean's list each semester. In the final quarter of my junior year, I saw him. I thought he was beautiful. I kept my distance but asked a few friends about him. He was a junior, too, and had transferred there at the beginning of the year. He was in the science program, so our paths had never crossed.
With his dark hair and dark eyes, he was as far from Beau's looks as one could get. I tried approaching him on occasion, but I would chicken out each time. One day, two months after the first time I'd seen him, I felt a tap on my shoulder as I sat in front of the computer in the lab. I turned around to find him standing before me with a smile as bright as I'd ever seen.
"Hi," he started with his hand stuck out. "I'm Maxwell...well, Max."
I was stunned, and it took me a moment to respond. "Ummm...hi," Geez, stutter much? "I'm Elizabeth." I was finally able to articulate a sentence and shook his hand.
His skin was smooth and soft, and a jolt of electricity moved from his hand to mine.
"Very nice to meet you, Elizabeth. May I sit down?"
"Ummm...sure...ya...yes," I continued to stammer. Good grief, Beth. Get a grip.
Max pulled the chair out and sat beside me, much closer than I had expected. I was certain he could hear my heart beating as it felt as if it was about to pound right out of my chest.
"Graphic design?" he asked as he pointed to the computer monitor.
I looked at the screen as everything had left my brain the second I felt his hand. Oh yeah, I was working on an assignment for an ad. "Yes," I finally answered. "It's an ad design for a new cereal."
"That's really cool," Max remarked as he took a closer look. "Did you have to make all of this?" he asked as his finger moved along the monitor.
"Yes. We had to think of a new cereal type and name it. Then we had to create the box and decorate it. And now we have to put it all together and make an ad."
"I would buy it," he said.
I found myself staring at his smile. It was perfect. "Thanks," I said once I pried my eyes from his lips.
"Well, I actually came in here to ask you something," Max started again. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to the Beta Theta Pi party this Saturday night?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm not really into the whole fraternity scene," I had replied, quite surprised that he was.
"To be honest, neither am I. My buddy Brett is a member there. I'm not a part of any."
Pleased by this response and wanting to get to know him better, I decided to ask him if he'd like to do something else.
"Sure. I'd love to," he answered with a grin. "What would you like to do? You choose."
I decided on dinner at Wig and Pen Pizza Pub near campus, and we made plans to meet there.
We began seeing each other frequently after that evening and remained together through our graduation from the university. As we stood in front of the college with our friends, celebrating and taking way too many photos, I turned around to find Max on one knee and holding up a blue velvet box with a small diamond ring inside.
He asked.
I said yes.
We spent the next two and half years traveling, working, and settling into our new house. Then on a day in June, I stood in the bathroom staring at a white plastic stick, waiting for one line or two to appear.
Two lines slowly came into view in the little oval window. I was pregnant. I gripped the counter and cried. I'd been crying all week and thought for sure I had been all out of tears. But this news found a whole reserve of them I didn't know existed. I picked up the test and walked through the house to find Max.
He was in his recliner, his favorite Iowa Hawkeye blanket pulled up to his chin, trying to stay warm. The skin beneath his eyes was already darkening and grey. His hair was beginning to lose the auburn color it held and was becoming dull. We'd only known for a week, and he was already showing signs of the illness.
Max had always been very active. He rode his bike on the weekends, played basketball with his buddies, and ran most mornings when the weather permitted. But over the past few months, he'd grown weak and tired. The test results were the worst we could have imagined - stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
Both sets of parents had driven to our house that past weekend. That was when we broke the news to them. We had to tell his parents they were losing their son in a few months. My parents got the news that their twenty-five-year-old daughter would be a widow.
And now, a single mother.
I held out the pregnancy test for Max to see. He sat up, took it from my hand, and a smile spread across his lips. Then, as our new reality set in, his smile faded, and his eyes moved to mine.
"I'm so sorry," he said and held his arms out.
I moved into them and gently sat on his lap. He held me close, and we cried together. My life would never be the same. In a few months, I would be burying my husband. Then, a few months later, I would bring our child into the world. Alone.
I was scared to death. Sorry, poor choice of words.
And that's how it panned out. It was a cold day at the beginning of October when Max took his last breath. One week after our third anniversary, two weeks before my twenty-sixth birthday, I was four and a half months pregnant with our son, our son who would never meet his father. And once again, I was left alone...crying.
I sold our house, quit my job, and moved in with my parents. I spent the first month after Max's death in bed. I had no energy to get up. I had no desire to go out. The love of my life lay beneath the dirt, and all I could think about was how I wanted to be down there with him.
But I had Maxwell Junior to consider. Little Max would need me. I had to be mother and father to him and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I rolled out of bed thirty-six days after I told my husband goodbye and took a good long look in the mirror. I was shocked at the size of my belly. I turned sideways to get a better look and could not believe how much I'd grown in that past month. I had passed by mirrors during that time but had never stopped to look at them. I had no one to impress. I had no one to dress up for. I had no one to look at me with that glint in his eyes and think I looked sexy.
I brushed my hand across my stomach and smoothed the fabric of my nightgown around the swollen shape before me.
"You're really growing," I said aloud for little Max to hear. "I'm sorry I haven't been...around...lately."
Three months later, five days before my due date, one day before Valentine's Day, my water broke. My parents rushed me to the hospital, and after eighteen hours of labor, I gave birth to my son. He was perfect with Max's nose and chin. And even in death, my husband had succeeded in giving me the greatest Valentine's gift ever.
Maxwell Liam Cooper was born at 5:18 a.m. on February 14th.
It was the most challenging time of my life, aside from burying my husband, but also the most beautiful. I fell so deeply in love with this little boy. He was perfect and filled the gaping void that Max's death had left behind. My days were more bearable, and I had something...someone...to get up each morning for.
After Little Max turned three, I decided to go back to work and found a job with a small local magazine. My life had finally gotten back on track, and with the money from the sale of the house three years ago, I was able to put a down payment and purchase a small one only fifteen minutes from my parents.
At thirty-one years, with a five-year-old son and a mortgage, I felt the most normal since Max's death. I had just received a promotion to Senior Designer in the magazine's art department, and I was happy with how my life was going. Once again, I didn't need a man, other than my little one, and I was content. I never felt that I was missing out on anything. I missed my husband, but I was in a good place now.
It was a hot day in June, and Max was playing at the local park. I was on a nearby bench sketching ideas into my notebook for the latest ad my team was working on when a voice startled me. I turned to find a man sitting beside me. I had been so lost in my drawing that I hadn't noticed him sit down.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"It's hotter than usual," he said again.
"Oh, yes. Yes, it is," I replied, pulling on the front of my shirt to fan myself. I returned to my sketchbook and continued drawing.
"Are you an artist?" he asked.
"Uh, Graphic designer," I informed him. "I do ad designs and corporate layouts." I returned to my sketch hoping he would stop disrupting me and causing me to lose my concentration before I forgot my ideas.
He seemed to take the hint and remained silent for several minutes.
"That's really great," he said, startling me once more.
I looked up to find that he'd slid a little closer to me in order to see my sketch.
"Um, thanks," I replied. I was feeling a little perturbed at the audacity of this man.
"I'm sorry," he said, taking the hint and sliding away from me.
"It's alright," I replied, then scanned the play equipment for Max. Seeing him running across the bridge with a little girl, I returned my attention to my drawing.
"A bit old school, isn't it?" he asked, pointing at my sketchbook.
"Yes. But I like to sketch out a few ideas in here before I begin creating them on the computer. It's my process."
"Makes sense."
He left me alone for a few minutes, so I returned to my work.
"They seem to be getting along pretty well," the man said.
"What?" I asked in an exasperated tone, tired of the interruptions that may cause me to miss my deadline.
"Your son and my daughter seem to be getting along," he said again as he pointed toward the children.
I laid my colored pencil down and concentrated on my child. The man was right; Max and the little girl were having a blast together. Both were giggling as they ran across the swinging bridge. Then Max slid down the slide right behind the little blond girl.
"Yes, they are," I finally said, deciding I'd been rude enough.
They appeared to be about the same age as I watched them run across the rubber chips and climb the rock wall up to the platform that led to four different slides.
Little Max had always been a shy child. Never having known his father had affected him in ways I never expected. I mean, what could I expect. I had never been through this before. But seeing him running, laughing, and playing with a child his age warmed my heart. I closed the sketchbook, set it on the bench beside me, and kept my eyes on the children.
Max had always been a happy baby, even right after birth. But the laughter emanating from him at this moment was more than I'd ever heard. The kids slid down the slide once more, then ran toward us.
"Mommy. Mommy, this is Alexandria," Max said as he jumped into my arms. "This is my new friend Alexandria."
"Hello, Alexandria. It's very nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," she said in a small voice.
"Can we stay longer than usual? I want to play more."
"Sure," I answered. "You go have fun."
Max ran toward the swings with Alexandria by his side. The pair pumped their legs as hard as they could as they tried to reach the sky. I was certain they thought they could reach the clouds and feel the soft cotton on their toes.
"They have certainly hit it off," the man said.
I had forgotten he was there, and yet again, his voice startled me.
"I'm sorry I keep scaring you. I don't mean to," he said sincerely.
"I know. It's not your fault," I replied and took a good look at him for the first time.
His eyes had a gentleness to them that I had never seen in a man. And the hazel color was outlined with gold flakes, making it hard to break my gaze. His dark hair was a bit disheveled, and he ran his fingers through it, making it even more of a mess. And when he smiled, the dimples hidden within his cheeks revealed themselves. I couldn't see the whole thing, but his lower left arm was covered with a tattoo, and it appeared to continue under his sleeve.
He held his hand out and waited for me to take it. And when I did, he shook it and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Jack Thornton."
An electricity, similar to what I had only felt with Max, pulsated up my arm at such an intensity that it surprised me. At first, I thought, surely, he must have one of those shock buttons strapped to the palm of his hand. You know, the kind that jokers and clowns used to use. But that wasn't it. It was simply his skin against mine.
I lifted my gaze until my eyes locked with his, and for a brief moment, I thought I just might be able to love again. But once he pulled his hand from mine, breaking that current that seemed to have melted us together for a few seconds, I returned to reality and swiftly moved my gaze to the playground.
"And you are?" Jack asked.
Looking back at the man, I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm Elizabeth Cooper."
"Very nice to meet you, Elizabeth," Jack said, then turned his body to face the children.
We sat in silence for several minutes until Alexandria ran up to her father.
"Daddy, can Max come to our house and play?"
"Alex, you know we have to go to Grandma's soon. She's been waiting to see you all week."
"Oh, yeah," the little girl said as her eyes dropped to the ground. Quickly looking back up, she asked, "What about tomorrow?"
I saw Jack's gaze move to me, and I froze as I waited for the question. I had no real reason to say no, other than, I simply wasn't interested in being around a single man.
Wait...is he even single? Why did I get the idea that he was single? I glanced at his left hand, and to my utter disappointment, there was no ring. Most women sitting beside this man would have been thrilled to see that finger bare. But not me. I needed the fact that he was married to allow me to say yes for Max to play with Alex.
"Well?" Jack asked.
"Hmm?"
"Do you want to meet here again tomorrow to let the kids play together?"
Meet here? I hadn't even heard him ask as I'd been arguing with myself in my head. What would the harm be in that? In a public park, with lots of people around. I could bring my laptop next time and tell him I had a deadline and needed to work. It was the truth, however.
"Sure. That would be fine," I finally answered with a smile.
"Yay!" Alex shouted and ran off to tell Max the excellent news.
"I've never seen Alex so friendly with another child. She's usually so shy. After her mother...left...she seemed to have retracted into herself and wasn't a happy little girl anymore. I'm glad to see her smiling and having fun," Jack said after he turned to face me again.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Max has always been a bit shy as well," I said. I was not willing to share any more information than was necessary.
A widower. That figures. He didn't need anything to make him more desirable. I glanced up at him from my sketchbook and saw that he was watching his daughter. He seemed friendly and harmless. He was quite handsome. In his nicely fitted jeans and polo shirt, he appeared very businesslike. By the looks of things, he worked out, too. A lot. His arms had that bit of a bulge on his bicep that only men that go to the gym have. The fabric of the polo hugged him just right and showed off his defined pecs.
It had been over five years since I'd been with a man, and for the first time, I wanted one of my own again. I missed the intimacy Max and I had shared. The quiet moments in a dark corner of a café, his arm around me while we rode across town on the public bus, the long evenings we spent in bed together memorizing every inch of each other. My heart began to pound in my ears as I thought about making love to Max. He had been the only man I'd ever been with, so I had nothing to compare him to, but I was sure it didn't get any better. He was amazing and made me feel things down to the tip of my toes. I missed that so much.
My gaze moved up to Jack's face, and my cheeks quickly burned as if someone had held a match to them. He'd been watching me. I was busted.
I looked away so fast that I almost gave myself whiplash. I heard a muted chuckle from his end of the bench, but I refused to look in his direction. Just because I suddenly realized that I was lonely did not mean I was going to jump on the first cute guy that came along. Yes, I'll admit it; he was cute.
I opened my sketchbook, picked up my orange pencil, and finished filling in the MCI logo. I scolded myself for my thoughts and refused to look at him again in that manner. Max had been my biggest love and my biggest loss. I couldn't go through that again.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked as he watched me wipe a tear from my cheek.
"Yes, I'm fine," I answered without looking up.
I saw his hand move in front of me and tucked between his fingers was a fresh tissue. I took it and dabbed my eyes, then against my better judgment, I looked at him again.
"Thank you," I said as I held the tissue up.
"You're welcome. Are you sure you're alright?" he inquired again.
"Yes. Just...memories tend to sneak up on me now and again," was all the information I allowed myself to give him.
"I understand that," he simply replied.
I'm sure he did. If he loved his wife even half as much as I'd loved Max, I knew he understood the pain. It pulls you so deep into an abyss that you're sure you'll never see the light of day again. The darkness consumes you and holds you down, making you unable to function normally, unable to hold a conversation, unable to care about anything except seeing him one more time.
That was my darkness. I would sleep all the time as that was when I could see his face. He lived in my dreams, so I had no desire to leave them. I could feel his touch and could touch him there. And each time I would wake, and his image would disintegrate like a smoke cloud in the breeze, I would begin crying once more. Immediately I'd roll over, close my eyes, and search for Max in my slumber again. For months I would find him. He was always there, his arms outstretched, waiting for me to run into them. He was healthy, with no signs of the cancer that ripped him from my life. He was happy. And so was I.
Eventually, it became more difficult to find him. My dreams turned into nightmares as I continued to search for the love of my life. Until one night, there was nothing. Nothing that I could remember anyway. I woke up the following morning feeling somewhat rested but also restless. It was at that moment I knew I would never see him again.
That was until Little Max came. And then...there he was, staring back at me from the eyes of an infant. And I genuinely smiled for the first time since we got the news. My Little Max had become my whole world; I thought that was all I would ever need.
Until now.