Clara stopped suddenly. Elizabeth turned and looked at her and realized she was staring up at the green Abigail's sign on the café.

"What if she doesn't like me?" Clara said, her voice sounding small to her own ears.

Elizabeth smiled and took her arm. "I am sure this feels very frightening to you, Clara. But once you meet her, you'll realize there was nothing to be afraid of."

"If she doesn't like me, I can't stay here, Elizabeth. You said it was a small town, but I'm not sure I knew how very small it is. If she's angry, or if I remind her of Peter and it makes her unhappy..." Clara's voice trailed off, and then she looked down at the dirt under her shoes. "I won't be able to stay..." She looked up and into Elizabeth's eyes. "And I already like it here so much..."

They were across the street from the café and Elizabeth was looking toward the Mercantile. She smiled at Clara with the understanding that none of this would be a mystery for very long.

"Elizabeth!" Abigail called out, grinning. "I was just coming to see you! We've missed you both...!" In her excitement, Abigail moved past Clara and hugged Elizabeth enthusiastically. Then she turned to Clara and smiled. "Hello. Are you visiting Hope Valley?" She turned to Elizabeth, now understanding that Clara was with her.

Abigail put out her hand to shake Clara's. "Abigail Stanton," she said kindly with a smile.

Elizabeth could see Clara's chest rise and fall quickly as she struggled to catch her breath. She put out her hand, which was visibly shaking. "Clara," she said softly. Then Elizabeth saw her steel her courage and say, "Clara... Stanton."

Abigail's eyebrows shot up and she laughed. "Well, that's a coincidence!" she said, looking at Elizabeth. Then she tilted her head as she realized that neither of the women in front of her was laughing. In fact, Elizabeth was looking at her as she might look at her students when they were trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem.

Looking back at Clara, Abigail's brow furrowed. "Are we... related?" she said, her face kind and open.

Clara took a deep breath. "Y-yes," she said simply.

Elizabeth realized this was not something that should be discussed in the middle of the street. "Maybe we can go into the café? Talk in there?" She took Abigail's arm on one side and Clara's on the other. Turning to Abigail, Elizabeth said, "We met Clara on the train going out to Hamilton. She stayed with us at the house for most of the month we were there." Squeezing Clara's arm to give her courage, Elizabeth said, "We've become very good friends."

Abigail was craning her neck around to look at Clara, while still keeping an eye on the steps up to the boardwalk. "Have we ever met, Clara? I'm sorry if I don't remember you."

Elizabeth opened the door and Abigail walked through. As Clara passed by her, she said softly, "Do you want me to stay?"

Clara's eyes went wide and she said fervently, "Oh, yes, please don't go."

It was still early. Abigail had finished making the baked goods for the day, and the aroma of ham baking in the oven was so fragrant that Clara almost thought she could taste the brown sugar and cloves. They walked through the empty café and back through the curtains where Clara could see there was a lovely sitting room, warmed by the cooking that was going on in the kitchen.

Clara smiled, even through her nervousness, at a tall man with blonde hair with a holster and gun at his hip, wearing a white apron and basting three glistening plump hams on the stove top. He turned and grinned widely at Elizabeth.

"Heard you were back!" he said happily, putting down the spoon and enveloping Elizabeth into a warm hug. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Guess that means I'm gonna lose my desk at the Mountie office." He gave both Abigail and Elizabeth a sly smile. "I'm not gonna make it easy on him, though."

Elizabeth laughed. "And he wouldn't expect you to." She turned to Clara and said, "Bill, this is Clara..." stopping herself before saying her last name, knowing that Bill would question Clara mercilessly if he knew. "We met her on the train." As it was, Bill was narrowing his eyes at Clara with a smile.

"Bringing home strays now, Elizabeth?" Clara raised her eyebrows, unsure whether it was a joke or a serious question.

Abigail took her arm kindly. "Bill! Mind your manners." She turned to Clara and said, "Don't listen to him. He's always cranky in the morning." She led Clara over to the sofa and turned back to Bill, giving him a warning look. "Actually, all day long, some days."

Bill huffed and made a face. "No offense intended, Clara."

Clara finally smiled and said, "None taken." She felt as if she had walked right into the middle of a complicated family and was already being treated like a member of it. She had to admit it felt very good.

Depositing Clara on the sofa, Abigail said, "Would you like some coffee? Tea? Are you hungry?"

She's so wonderful, Clara thought. And like Peter in so many ways. Clara was already blinking back tears and was wondering how on earth she was going to get through this conversation without crying. "Coffee would be nice. We had breakfast already, thank you."

Elizabeth saw Clara's eyes and turned to Bill. "You know, Nathan was on his way to the office just after we left the house. If you hurry, you might be able to get to the desk before he does." She nodded toward the hams. "I'll be happy to take over, if you'd like?"

Bill narrowed his eyes and looked toward the door. "That's probably a good idea. I need to brief him on a few things..." he said, nodding, at the same time he untied his apron. He tilted his head toward the stove. "Make sure you stir up the sugar in the bottom as you baste..."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I know how to baste a ham, Bill. Scoot, or you'll get there too late." Bill pulled his coat down from the rack, and was out the door before she finished the sentence.

Abigail laughed softly. "Finally. Now we can talk." She poured a cup of coffee for the three of them and brought the cream and sugar over to the small table. Then she sat across from Clara and smiled. "So, we're related? That's exciting. You're a part of the Stanton family? I thought I knew all of Noah's relatives."

Clara took longer than usual to spoon the sugar and pour the cream into her coffee; and then even longer to stir it. Abigail waited, and looked over at Elizabeth with a small frown, wondering why Clara was taking so long to answer. Elizabeth sent her a silent message with her look. Be patient.

Abigail sat back as Clara took a deep breath.

"I married into the Stanton family," Clara said, setting her jaw and looking directly into Abigail's eyes. "I married Peter."

Elizabeth stood ready to run to whichever of the two women needed her the most, and right now it was a toss-up. Clara was on the verge of tears, and Abigail looked as if Clara had just spoken something in another language and she was struggling to make out the words.

"Peter..." Abigail said slowly. "My son, Peter?"

Clara nodded and silently drew up her hand with the rings. Abigail gasped audibly. "Those were Noah's grandmother's rings. They're in a small velvet pouch in a box upstairs in the closet. We were saving them for Peter..." Her eyes fluttered, and she surprised Elizabeth and Clara by laughing softly. "But they're not in that box upstairs, are they? They're on your finger."

Abigail took Clara's hand and gazed at the rings. A small diamond set in the engagement ring and the gold band that matched. She realized now that she hadn't had the nerve to open the box and look at them since Noah and Peter died. She knew they would only serve to remind her of the life Peter never had the chance to live. Of the wedding that Noah would never see.

She looked up and into Clara's eyes. Here was the person that Peter had decided to spend his life with. This was his future, wrapped up in this lovely girl with the long chestnut curls, the wide eyes that were even now spilling over and down her pink cheeks. Clara's hand was shaking in hers and Abigail realized that the girl was terrified.

And before she knew it, Abigail reached her arms out and folded Clara into them.

Hickam was in charge now, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. Because he'd been at Lee's side since the beginning of the sawmill, he knew exactly what needed to be done. What was so surprising to him was that the foremen listened to him, and looked to him for answers in the same way they did with Lee.

Mike knew he had skills that had been untapped. It wasn't that he didn't have ambition; it was just that he knew where he was most needed. He knew that all parts were necessary to keep the machinery functioning. One tiny gear could shut down the entire mill, no matter how inconsequential it might look next to the broad saw blades, and Mike was okay with being that tiny gear.

He was happy being Lee's right-hand man. He respected Lee tremendously and felt proud to work for him. And now, in essence, he was Lee, at least until he recovered enough to come back to work.

Rosemary had allowed Mike fifteen minutes to ask Lee all the crucial questions, and it had only taken him ten. She said she would give him fifteen minutes a day and that he needed to use them wisely. Mike had nodded vigorously and had only barely fought the urge to salute her on the way out.

At first Hickam had thought of begging off the trip to Benson Hills to pick up Elizabeth and Nathan, thinking someone else could drive the wagon. But he'd found that things were moving along smoothly under the capable direction of the mill foremen, and he didn't like to renege on a promise. So he'd gone, thinking it was a responsibility. But by the time he arrived back in Hope Valley, he'd started believing it was fate.

There was something about Mike Hickam that very few people in town had guessed. He was an unabashed romantic. Lee had figured it out and was kind enough not to tease him about it.

Mike believed absolutely in true love, and he knew that there was someone out in the wide world that was his match in every way. He'd only recently begun to doubt that such a person would wander into a tiny town in Alberta and announce herself to him, but the truth was, that very thing had happened on the wagon ride home.

Clara. With her almond eyes and full lips, her curls that shone in the sunlight, even the red of her cheeks as she sobbed in Rebecca's arms. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. And when he'd touched her shoulder and held it there, he knew. He'd felt the jolt of electricity that he'd read about in novel after novel. He'd thought it was only a metaphor, but now he knew it was real.

Of course he'd remembered her from the train station a month ago. She was the unattainable dream he'd seen from across the platform. She'd smiled and blushed and he'd thought he'd seen something there in her eyes. And then he'd silently chastised himself all the way home with Rebecca and Allie. A person doesn't fall in love in a train station with a stranger he'll never see again, he told himself. That's a recipe for unhappiness. And Mike Hickam didn't plan to spend his life unhappy. So he'd done his best to forget her.

Until he'd looked up from the horses yesterday, and there she was. Astounded, he'd simply stared and she did it again. Looked him right in the eye and blushed.

She'd apologized as he'd carried her bags up into Nathan's row house; she was sorry for crying, for talking so much on the way home, for the weight of the trunk that Julie had packed for her. She seemed to do nothing but apologize, and Mike could only nod and smile and keep telling her that he was happy to do it. Happy just to be near her.

Then Elizabeth and Nathan had gone upstairs, and Allie and Rebecca right after, and suddenly Mike was alone with Clara. They'd sat at the kitchen table and Clara had asked his advice about whether she should go to see Abigail right away or wait. Mike had said that she should wait. Get a good night's sleep. Sleep always made things better, he'd said, and she'd laughed and told him he was absolutely right.

Mike didn't know what was going on upstairs, and he didn't care. He only hoped that they would stay up there forever so he could sit across from Clara and see her eyes sparkle as she talked about Hamilton and the mansion, and hear her laugh when she told him about the horse races between Nathan and Charles.

Leaning on his desk, Mike put his head in his hands. Another widow. He couldn't walk down the street on any given day without talking to five or ten widows, sometimes more. And now he added Clara to their numbers.

Looking across at Lee's desk, Mike remembered a day not too long ago when he thought Lee might finally talk to him about Rosemary. He'd come close. They'd been talking about a widow who lived alone on the outskirts of town, who was complaining about the noise of the work going on next to her land.

Lee had gotten a faraway look and said, almost to himself, "It's hard to know if the time is right, or if it ever will be. Grief is tricky. You think it's gone and then it rears up and teaches you differently."

Mike had stayed quiet, but he'd known that Lee was talking about Rosemary. Mike could see that Lee was in love with her, and from what he'd witnessed in the last two days, he knew now that Rosemary loved him too.

It's possible. If it's possible for them, it's possible for me.

Nathan heard a noise at the door and looked up. Bill was standing with the light behind him so that he was almost entirely in silhouette in the morning sun.

"That's my desk," Bill said, striding toward him.

"Not anymore," Nathan said, giving Bill a crooked smile. "Possession is 9/10ths of the law, Bill. You've been a Mountie. You should know that."

Bill laughed. "Not even so much as a thank you for watching the store while you've been off gallivanting with the rich folk?" He hung up his coat and pulled a chair around to the other side of the desk.

Grinning, Nathan said, "I'm not really much of a gallivanter." He leaned forward in his chair and smiled genuinely, extending his hand. "But I do thank you, sincerely, for taking my place here while I was gone."

Bill raised an eyebrow and shook his hand. "Well, don't get all mushy about it. You would have done the same for me."

"That I would," Nathan said. He looked at a stack of papers to the side of the desk. "Do I want to know what these are?" he asked warily.

Bill snorted. "Wires from HQ. Some interesting, most not. The ones you need to read are on top. The rest you can throw away. I just didn't feel I should do it for you." Bill leaned back and folded his hands together on his chest. "So who's Clara?"

Nathan looked up from the wires, surprised. He paused for a moment and then said, "We met her on the train going to Hamilton. She's decided she wants to live in Hope Valley."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "There's a whole lot you're not telling me between those two sentences."

Nathan knew it wasn't up to him to tell Clara's story, especially since he wasn't sure if she'd shared it with Abigail yet. He gave Bill his clearest gaze and said, "Not really. That's about all there is to tell."

Bill laughed. "For a Mountie, you're a terrible liar. But I also know you well enough to know that you don't hide the truth unless you have to." He pushed the chair back and stood up. "But fair warning. I'm an investigator, and I'll find out."

Nathan frowned. "That's it? Nothing more to say after a whole month?"

Bill shook his head. "Well, Margaret Cooper has had me up to her property every day complaining about the noise from the mill workers on the adjacent parcel. I could tell you a lot about that."

Laughing, Nathan said, "That's okay. That's all I need to know."

Moving closer, Bill said, "Oh, and Florence Blakeley wants to know if we can force Horace Sawyer to clean his outhouse more regularly. She says it makes her eyes water when she hangs her laundry."

Nathan grinned. "And can we?"

"I told Horace that we might have to arrest him for disturbing the peace and that seemed to put a scare into him. Haven't heard from Florence in a couple of days, so there's that."

Laughing, Nathan said, "It sounds like you've done a fine job, Bill."

Putting up both hands in surrender, Bill said, "The town is yours again, Constable. With my very best wishes."

Nathan smiled. "Thank you, Bill. I really do appreciate it."

Putting on his coat, Bill said, "The next time Elizabeth's mother decides she's dying, I need to see a note from her doctor."

Nathan was still laughing as Bill went out the door.