Miss Julia Thatcher

Hamilton, Ontario

Sunday, 11th September, 1910

Dear Julie,

I will begin this letter by telling you that you will be furious with me when you read it. You will ask why I mentioned none of this in my previous newsy letters, but I beg of you to understand, my emotions have been such a terrible jumble that had I tried to write to you before this, I would have changed my mind from one paragraph to the next and never have gotten the letter in the mail.

You will be upset with me because the story I am about to tell you has everything you crave; adventure, danger, intrigue - and what you have always enjoyed most in your literature - forbidden romance.

As I have now sat here turning my pencil round and round through the candle wax dozens of times, I will clearly need some sort of literary device to get this story on paper.

Once upon a time... (yes, I am really doing this. Stop laughing, please.) ...there was an idealistic young woman who left her home and family to travel west. She journeyed by stagecoach, and just as she was nearing her destination, the stagecoach was robbed and she lost all her valuables and spent the night alone in the dark coach on a deserted road. (Yes, this really happened, but I've lived to tell the tale, so take heart!)

She was rescued by a Mountie (I knew you'd like this part). A very tall, dark, handsome Mountie with eyes the color of a mountain lake. His name was Nathan Grant.

They didn't like each other at first: he thought she was a spoiled rich girl, and she thought him arrogant and rude.

So, they fought, and she burned down a building (I wonder if you'll let me skip over that part? It was fairly simple. I lit a match and it was downhill from there), and she was so distraught that she threw herself into his arms, sobbing, wearing only her nightshift and a blanket. In front of practically the entire town.

Are you still breathing? Are you worried that your dear sister Elizabeth has taken leave of her senses, or has been kidnapped and this letter is being written by someone far less straight-laced and proper? Keep reading...

The Mountie and the Schoolteacher learned something very early on. The Mountie had only been stationed in Coal Valley because shipping magnate William Thatcher had requested him. Why? For the purpose of babysitting his obviously helpless daughter.

(Yes, I'm as angry as you are right now) After Father stood and told me how proud he was of my striving for independence! (you mustn't tell him we know. He holds Nathan's future in Coal Valley in his hands)

I can hear you. You're asking, where is the romance? And why is it forbidden?

I can't think when I'm around him, Julie. My heart races and I blush and I can't find my words. And for me to have trouble with words, you must know I'm suffering from a serious malady. His eyes affect me like some kind of potion. And I can't imagine anyone else in the red serge uniform anymore, or at the very least anyone as handsome as he is. And he's kind, and funny and has read more books than I have, and he remembers them all.

He kissed my hand last Monday, and I can still feel it, all of it, the minute I close my eyes. Am I filling your need for romance?

A lovely story. But why is it forbidden?

A) I am entrusted with the minds and morals of the children of this town and I didn't make a good impression on my first night. There has been gossip about us and I've been asked to make it stop.

B) Nathan has quickly grown fond of Coal Valley and its people (as have I), and if he's only here because Father wants him here, Father can also want him gone and replaced. How do you think our father would feel about his Mountie being romantically involved with the daughter he thinks is so helpless?

C) Nathan's sister died five months ago and though I don't know the circumstances, he has been affected deeply and is still clearly grieving. He is now doing a wonderful job raising his sister's absolutely precious four-year-old daughter, Allie, alone. That gives me no pause, as I love her already, but this is a man who currently has a number of balls in the air. Perhaps I should let him catch a few before I throw him another.

So, although I want nothing more than to see him, talk to him, hear him laugh and lose myself in those eyes of his, I've been avoiding him. Not an easy feat in a town the size of Coal Valley.

The last time we were alone together was last Tuesday, though we've shared many hours with Allie, and with Abigail, one of the widows who has taken me under her wing and is rapidly becoming a very good friend. We wave to each other across the street every day, and I know he watches me until I round the corner. Sometimes I see him ride off. (Oh, Julie, you should see him on his horse in his red serge. It fairly takes my breath away. It's like a painting.)

We both know why we're avoiding each other, so neither of us has made it more difficult than it needs to be. But I see a longing in his eyes at odd moments, and I know that look is mirrored when he gazes at me. In all honesty, I'm not certain how long we can last.

Oh, that is a great weight from my shoulders to tell you that. And now that I see it all here on these pages, organized, logical and rational, I am encouraged by how very mature Nathan and I are being in handling this situation. I am proud of us.

School is going very well. The students are beginning to respect me and to trust that I have their best interests at heart. They are wonderful, bright, loving children who have lived through a terrible loss. I see them all as heroes. Likewise their mothers, who soldier on without their husbands with such grace and dignity that it makes me ashamed for wishing I could have more time with my Mountie.

And now, as I've spent what little time I have before sleep in talking about romance, I'll need to postpone any other news. But I am glad that the ice is broken and now you have the full story... which I am certain is to be continued...

Your loving sister,

Elizabeth

Nathan guided the horses down the main road on his way to the row houses. His order of lumber had finally come in from the sawmill in Benson Hills, and Nathan had borrowed Tom Trevoy's wagon to take it up to the house. He was anxious to get started on his woodshop so he could begin all the projects that had begun piling up in his head.

Allie's dollhouse would be first, and he wondered if he'd be able to keep it a secret until Christmas. Knowing Allie's curiosity, he would likely only be able to work on it when she was playing with her friends at their houses.

Nathan also had another project in mind; a gift for Elizabeth. One he should probably not give to her, but he couldn't seem to get it out of his mind.

Also in the back of his wagon were five boxes of books that his mother had sent from Airdrie. He was anxious to open them and see if his memory of those treasured bookshelves matched the reality. He hoped Seth had simply put them into the boxes, because Nathan knew that as a teenager he had slipped pages of writing in between books on those shelves – poetry, stories, observations – things he hadn't looked at for a decade at least.

The main reason he wanted the books was to replenish the library in the Mountie office. Elizabeth was going through it at an alarming rate. He'd never known a reader as voracious as he was, except maybe Colleen.

Elizabeth had managed to return and take out new books only when there were others in the office with him, and a few times when he'd run out for a few minutes. He would find a book on his desk and a note in her fine flowing handwriting telling him which new book she'd taken. She'd started by signing the notes Elizabeth, and now it was simply E. Nathan couldn't explain why that made him smile, but he thought it had to do with the familiarity of it. It almost felt like intimacy to him.

He knew why they were avoiding each other. He even agreed. But he didn't like it. And he knew the psychology of the Capulet/Montague principle. It only made him want to be with her more. It wasn't getting better, it was getting worse.

Nathan's office was across the street and three doors down from the saloon. He considered it a part of his job to spend some time outside every day greeting townspeople, so almost every day at two-o'clock, Nathan would step outside and stand at the edge of the boardwalk. She would close the saloon door with her ever-present basket over her arm, and she would turn. Then the smile and the wave, which he would return.

One of the best parts of his day. He would watch as she walked gracefully toward the road to the row houses, her skirt swinging side to side, almost as if she were dancing. At the turn, she would look again, and he would still be there. This time, he would tip his hat and she would laugh.

Nathan sighed, running the wagon up in front of his row house and easing the horses around the back. He got it unloaded quickly into the backyard and turned the horses to take the wagon back to Tom. Allie was with the Noonans and she was then having a sleepover with Emily, so he had the night to himself.

And there she was. He could see Elizabeth rounding the corner toward Abigail's house, and then she looked up and saw him. She stood on the bottom step of the row house, making a show of going through her basket, but he knew she was waiting for him. He smiled, happy for the moment that he'd get to say hello with no one else around.

"Hello," Nathan said, pulling up the horses, and then an involuntary deep breath took hold of him, and he shook his head and laughed softly. "How have you been?"

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes bright. "Good. School is going well. The children are starting to like me, I think," she said, meaning it as a joke.

"I don't know how they could help it," Nathan said, his eyes soft.

Elizabeth smiled and tilted her head. She exhaled a deep breath. "Oh, don't be too nice to me, or I'll break down and ask you to dinner or something scandalous like that..."

She wasn't aware that Abigail had just opened the door, wondering why a wagon was suddenly parked outside her house. "Actually," Abigail said, wiping her hands on her apron, "I just realized that we haven't had the new Constable of Coal Valley over for supper yet. I think our hospitality is sadly lacking." She said the last to Elizabeth, raising an eyebrow.

Elizabeth laughed. "Abigail! You're the one who said we needed to let the gossip die down!"

Abigail moved down and stood on the bottom step with Elizabeth. "And you've done very well. I'm proud of both of you, because it's working. I haven't heard a peep over the back fence all week," she said, smiling. "Anyway, how scandalous can supper be with Allie and me there?" She looked up at Nathan in the wagon. "Come to supper tomorrow night? I'm making roast with potatoes and carrots." When Nathan didn't say yes right away, she added, "And pie."

Nathan smiled and narrowed his eyes. "What kind of pie?"

"Cherry," Abigail said, laughing.

Nodding, Nathan said, "Allie and I would be delighted to join you for supper." He raised his eyebrows and looked at Elizabeth. "I'm going to eat very slowly," he said softly.

Elizabeth laughed. "Good," she said.

Nathan flicked the reins. "Hup," he said and the horses started up again. As he turned the corner, he looked back. Elizabeth raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in a wave. She was still smiling as she and Abigail walked up the steps.

"That was very sweet of you," Elizabeth said, putting her arm through Abigail's.

"You two have earned it," Abigail said. "And I have some dolls from my childhood up in my bedroom that I've been wanting to show to Allie." She looked over at Elizabeth. "It will probably take some time."

Elizabeth squeezed her arm as they went through the door. "You're a good friend, Abigail."

"Oh, I see what a good match you are. It's just unfortunate it all started the way it did. I do wonder sometimes if Providence makes things difficult for us so we can find out if we really want it." She closed the door and looked over at Elizabeth, "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Elizabeth said.

"Noah's mother didn't like me. She had another girl picked out for him." Abigail moved the kettle on to the fire and then sat down with Elizabeth at the table. "We had to sneak around for a while."

Elizabeth sighed. "That's the thing, Abigail. We're not even sneaking."

Nodding in sympathy, Abigail said, "I know." She took Elizabeth's hand across the table. "Do you know how long you've been in Coal Valley?"

Elizabeth looked sheepishly down at the tablecloth. "A little over two weeks."

Raising her eyebrows, Abigail said softly, "Give it time."

"The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care..." Elizabeth said, smiling back at her friend. "Emily Dickenson wrote that in a letter."

Abigail laughed, "Oh, I know." She patted Elizabeth's hand and got up to tend to the boiling kettle. "Let's start with supper, shall we?"

"Thanks again, Tom," Nathan said. "Wagon's out back. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Nathan," Tom said from behind the bar. "Always good to butter up the law in town," he added, grinning.

Nathan gave him a quick salute and a smile, "Smart man."

As he walked outside toward home, Nathan looked up at the sky. The clouds were just now turning yellow and orange at the edges as the sun was starting to set. Every sunset reminded him of sitting on Abigail's steps with Elizabeth that evening. When he'd kissed her hand.

Even now, he shook his head, wondering where the courage to do that had come from. And he could still smell the lavender on her skin.

He could never come around the corner without looking at Abigail's row house, and tonight was no different. But tonight, Elizabeth was sitting on the steps in the same place as she had been that night, watching the colors change in the sky as she sipped on a cup of tea.

Nathan felt the familiar jump of his heart and smiled at her.

"Good evening, Miss Thatcher," he said.

The crooked smile. Elizabeth smiled back at him and shook her head slightly. "You've been busy today."

Nathan leaned against the railing, wanting so much to simply walk up the steps and sit beside her. Instead, he used the tip of his shoe to nudge a rock. "I'm building a shed out back where I can do my woodworking." He looked up at her. "Did I tell you I'm making a dollhouse for Allie for Christmas?"

Elizabeth smiled. "No, but it doesn't surprise me. She might need two. One for your office and one for home."

Nathan took a deep breath. "I've been lucky that I haven't had anyone in the jail while we've been here. I can't keep taking her to work with me much longer, and she misses Emily something terrible."

Elizabeth looked at him over the rim of her cup. "I've actually been thinking about that, and I have an idea."

Nathan smiled. He was surprised at how good it made him feel, to know that he wasn't alone in thinking about Allie's well-being.

"Allie is mature for her age, Nathan. I don't know if it's because of what she's experienced in her life..." Dangerous ground, Elizabeth thought as she saw Nathan flinch just slightly, "...or if she's naturally advanced. In any case, I wonder if we could try her in the schoolroom for a time? I have some children from the farms that have just turned five and she could easily hold her own with them."

"Oh, Elizabeth. Do you think so? I try so hard to engage her mind, but when I have reports to do... and there are times I just have to leave, and Cat and Carla have been so kind, but I think I'm starting to wear out my welcome..."

Elizabeth smiled. "Let's try it," she said, nodding. "She's such a smart girl, and it will be good for her to be around the other children every day."

"I thought there were rules about this sort of thing," Nathan said, raising an eyebrow.

"That's why it's good to know people in high places, Constable," Elizabeth said. "It turns out that I'm the one who makes the rules in the classroom."

The sun was truly setting now, and Nathan looked up and down the row of houses and out to the path. Seeing no one, he walked up the steps and sat down next to Elizabeth. "It occurs to me," he said, looking first at her and then out at the sunset, "That our relationship has just changed." He gazed back at her. "It seems that I am now a parent with a child in your class, and you and I have just had an entirely professional conversation, of the type that you would have with any parent. Am I correct?"

Elizabeth laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose we have." She looked over at him. "But I might not be comfortable sitting this close to any other man who had a child in my class."

Nathan looked directly at her. In the dying light, his eyes were still very blue. "But you're comfortable now?"

Elizabeth laughed again, "Comfortable? Never," she said, taking a deep breath. "But happy? Yes."

Softly, Nathan said, "I am, too." He took her hand from her lap and held it as he turned toward the sunset. They sat there quietly until the light was gone. Finally, Nathan lifted her hand and kissed it, and then stood.

"Good night, Elizabeth," he said.

Elizabeth sighed. "Good night, Nathan." As he started to walk back to his house, she stood and called out softly, "Don't forget about supper tomorrow."

He turned and walked backwards for a few steps, laughing. "As if I could." Then he turned again and headed toward home.