A/N: When episode descriptions for the first 4 ep's of S11 dropped and I saw they were covering Easter, I thought, "How adorable would it be to see Nathan help LJ hunt Easter eggs on the lawn?" And a little ficlet idea started simmering. Then a video promo dropped, and my fantasy was seemingly confirmed—it sure looks like Nathan helps LJ find eggs! So even though my speculation was conceived before the confirming promo, I thought it'd still be fun to play it out in a story. And I miiiiiiight have included my version of N&E's fall-and-catch we've been spoiled on. ;) It's been one HECK of a mind-boggling journey, TN family, but we're almost home—and so are N&E.
I know everybody's very occupied with Easter today (as we should be), but I wanted to get this published today so it could be here for your enjoyment whenever you find the time. :)
This is just a feel good little Easter piece for our N&E hearts, and I hope everyone enjoys. Maybe it'll help tide us over till we get to see the actual thing on our screens. :) It's my Easter "egg" (gift) to you—and in a special way to my friend "Blemishes and Brushstrokes," who has her own wonderful selection of N&E fics on this site. She said the little idea I had for the fall-and-catch had to be made into a fic, so this story's dedicated to you, my friend, even if I have kinda altered the original "falling" idea I had! ;) Blessed Easter, all!
— Hearts in Bloom —
HOPE VALLEY, NORTHWEST Canada — Easter Sunday, 1921
• • •
FRAGRANT HYACINTHS SWAYED TO AND FRO in the gentle spring breeze, shades of ethereal white, and amethyst, and dainty pink in the late morning sunshine. Banks of tulips enhanced the springtime charm, their flexible stalks lifting richly colored petals to the sun, sheening like satin under its golden rays. Here and there on the lawn of fresh green, cheerful daffodils bobbed in clusters; a lemony splash of color that made Elizabeth smile as she watched the Easter egg hunt in progress from her vantage point.
Children in pastel Easter finery flocked around the lawn, crouching at the base of trees or searching in bushes and along the wood line for the elusive treats, their laughter and happy shouts floating on the balmy air.
Little Jack was in shades of blue and white and tan in the sunshine—much like the tall off-duty Mountie whom he had bee-lined for on sight and whose side he'd hovered close to ever since.
A pair of wild bunnies, white tails fluffed, cavorted by a weathered length of old log, long since felled and settled into its new home horizontal to the soil and grass.
Nathan's arm lifted. One finger pointed. Jack's little face lip up and even from the distance she stood, Elizabeth could see his mouth form the word bunnies. And then he was off, running pell-mell towards the two furry creatures.
He tripped suddenly, foot caught, and lurched forward, hands flailing as he tried to throw his balance to the other foot. "Mountie Nathan!"
It happened so fast Elizabeth barely had time to gasp before Nathan was in motion.
"Whoops!" His hands effortlessly caught Jack about the waist and lifted him out of the gopher hole, righting his little body. "I've got you, Jack."
Jack seemed serious, staring up at Nathan for a full minute before moving. Not a word passed his lips, but with a shy look, he slipped his smaller hand into Nathan's, the silent action speaking of his trust and gratitude louder than any words. A wash of something shaken flared on Nathan's face, the breeze tumbling a lock of dark hair onto his temple as he tilted his head to look down on the small boy.
Blissfully unaware of the reaction he'd caused and using Nathan's steadying hand as his support, Jack confidently skipped along scouting for eggs as they approached the bunnies by the log.
Nathan's long legs easily kept up with Jack, but as the pair—the one so tall, the other so small in contrast—closed in on the log, Elizabeth saw a cautionary resistance in Nathan as he gently slowed her son, saying something she couldn't make out. Nathan's gentle hand gestures, however, made it clear he was cautioning Jack to slow down and approach the bunnies softly, so as not to frighten them.
Jack nodded, more solemn than Elizabeth had seen him in a long while, and when Nathan finished speaking, he tiptoed forward only in small increments, every other step looking up at Nathan to make sure he was doing it right.
Nathan's simple smile of approval had Jack beaming, and Elizabeth was hard pressed not to stagger at the ray of poignancy it shot through her.
Everything seemed so golden and ripe to her lately, but today more than the rest. The cajole of new hope bubbled between her ribs with effervescent possibility, ready to burst forth into greater levels of metamorphosis than she had yet attempted in her life—especially after her boardwalk talk with Nathan the night of his surprise birthday party. . . the dusky light of evening falling about them, the gentle way he'd touched her hair, the ocean waves of something in his eyes. . .
"Aww, they runned off!" Jack's high-pitched little boy voice carried to her ears.
Her attention snapped back to the tableau unfolding by the log.
Her son's mouth drooped in a pout as he watched the bunny pair hop into the woods, letting his empty Easter egg basket fall to the grass, earthy brown against the sharp spring green blades of grass. "Can they come back?"
He looked so forlorn it was hard for Elizabeth not to rush to his side to comfort him, but she held back, knowing it was best for her growing boy, but also wanting to see what Nathan would do with his mild temper tantrum.
Nathan didn't coddle Jack or assure him the bunnies would come back. Instead he crouched down to face Jack at his own level, quietly picked up the discarded basket, and offered it to him. "I think you might need this for your Easter eggs, don't you?"
Jack brightened, nodding. He closed a hand around the handle and mustered a smile.
"Good boy." Nathan didn't touch the little boy, but Elizabeth could almost see Jack's chest swell at the praise.
The shouts of the other children grew louder, forcing her to strain to overhear the only conversation she wanted to eavesdrop on.
"It made you sad the rabbits ran away, didn't it?" Jack's head bobbed affirmatively as Nathan showed interest in his emotions. "Me, too," Nathan validated him, gently understanding, but not coddling. "But wild animals, including wild rabbits, belong in the wild, Jack, and that means they have to survive without human help, so it's not always good for them to get too close to us. You understand?"
Elizabeth could almost see the wheels turning in Jack's mind as he thought over his answer carefully. "But bunnies can be pets."
"Not wild bunnies. They grew up in the woods, it's the only home they know. They belong in their natural habitat, and we have to let them be wild." He adjusted the pageboy cap on Jack's head. "Wild animals aren't pets. Unless they choose you, but that's a story for another time."
Jack was thinking again. "But they runned off. They didn't choose me."
Nathan stifled a smile at her son's grammatical choices. "They sure did run off," he said gravely. "Maybe they're having an Easter egg hunt in their home in the woods." He crooked a finger back and forth between the two of them. "Let's see if you and I can find more out here than they do in there. Deal?"
His attention now safely steered back to his own egg hunt and aware a challenge had been issued, Jack frowned. "But I can't find any eggs," he mumbled; then, hopefully, "Can ya help me, Mr. Nathan?"
It hadn't escaped Elizabeth that Jack had struggled to find eggs earlier, though he'd staunchly informed her that he could find them by himself when she tried to help. Yet minutes into his discouraging egg hunt, he'd spotted Nathan, attaching himself to his side like a shadow—and Elizabeth had relaxed, knowing the tide of his egg-finding luck was about to change with the best tracker in the territory at his side. The same tracker who had helped her hide the Easter eggs just the day before. . .
"Let's look together," Nathan suggested, swiveling on his haunches to face the log. "If you were the Easter bunny, Jack, where would you hide eggs?"
Unconsciously, Jack sweetly put his hand on Nathan's shoulder, balancing on one leg as he fiddled with his shoe and surveyed the fallen log, lower lip sucked between his teeth.
"There!" One leg joined the other on the ground as Jack pointed emphatically at a thick cluster of prairie grass, growing tall and proud at one end of the log. "I'll check for 'em, Mountie Nathan!"
Elizabeth held her breath, as invested as Jack was as he scampered delightedly across the grass. She didn't remember putting any eggs there yesterday, but Nathan had mysteriously disappeared for several minutes—
"Got one!" Jack's triumphant squeal rang out as a large farm wagon trundled in from the other side of the meadow, its open flat-bed piled high with hay, the horses' tack jingling softly.
"Attaboy, Jack," Nathan cheered, and Jack's smile bloomed so big it nearly split his cheeks.
Elizabeth's heart was doing funny things in her chest. Her hand hovered near the palpitating organ, not sure whether her heart or her fluttering stomach needed attention first.
"Now," Nathan held up the beautiful coral egg Jack had discovered, "do you want to check and see what's inside?"
"Yeah!" Jack crowed.
Popping open the egg, Nathan waited with a soft expression as Jack's mouth fell open and his little fingers reached inside the cavity.
"Mama, look!" Elizabeth wasn't aware Jack had been cognizant of her watching, but it seemed her son was more observant than she thought because he tore across the lawn straight for her, his little legs pumping as he pulled Nathan behind him. "Look what Mountie Nathan made me!"
A look of shock flashed over Nathan's face, followed by rueful chagrin.
"Let me see, sweetheart." Curious, Elizabeth shot a glance at Nathan as she took the opened egg from the boy's hand.
Inside, a miniature carved Mountie astride a galloping horse, dark mane and tail lifted as if caught by a breeze, stared back at her.
Nathan cleared his throat, murmuring under his breath to her, "I'm not sure how he knew I made it, but I hope it's alright to give to him."
"Of-of course, it is," she stammered, overwhelmed. That Nathan had made this tiny piece of art for Jack by hand, spending heaven knows how many hours on it. . . was something whose meaning could only seep into her mind in manageable emotional increments. "It's the same style and quality of workmanship as the toy Mountie you made for him several years ago. I imagine he recognized your touch."
"Mama, isn't it 'mazing?" Jack's hands were fidgeting as he hopped in place, eyes glowing, clearly itching to have it back but trying to be respectful.
Elizabeth was having a hard time dragging her eyes away from the gift. "Yes, honey, it sure is." It was amazing and then some. She handed the egg back to his eager chubby fingers. "Did you thank Mountie Nathan?"
Jack turned solemn eyes on the tall man. "T'anks, Mr. Nathan. I love it."
Hunkering down, Nathan chucked a gentle finger to Jack's cheek. "You're very welcome, Jack. Now you can think of your father every time you see it."
Jack nodded. "And you."
Oh.
Stillness fell over Nathan's features, but Elizabeth had never seen his eyes so sweet.
"I gots to show Allie!" And Jack was off, eagerly trotting toward the girl in question who was standing beside the hay wagon, engaged in happy chatter with Opal.
He left two rather shell-shocked adults in his wake.
Nathan seemed to need a minute to compose himself, but slowly rose full height and looked down, straight into her eyes. Elizabeth tilted her face to him and could instantly tell by the look in his eyes that he was going to skim past the shocker. She had no intention of letting him.
"Jack admires you," she told him, quietly straight-forward. "He's always running to tell me when you're riding by on rounds, pointing you out when he sees you in the street, talking about wanting to go fishing with you and Allie or ride Newton. . . "
Nathan's eyes swung sharply to her. He took her words in slowly. When he spoke, his vocal texture had gone rough. "Sounds about like Allie, except her comments are about you and Jack."
It was her turn to raise affected eyes. Allie spoke about them like that? She blew a little breath out, stirring the hair strands brushing her face. And did Nathan mean Allie spoke about them like a group of friends or more like. . . family?
Nathan's eyes never left her face, but there was a sudden masculine approval making its way through them that made her knees feel like one of the chocolate Easter eggs, left too long in the sun. "You look lovely," he said quietly. "I've been meaning to tell you."
Her hands fluttered, looking for a safe place to land. Self-conscious, she smoothed them over the linen of her new dress. Softly pink with delicate white detailing and a generous collar, the dress had been her first choice for an Easter outfit. The look in Nathan's responsive eyes made it clear she'd made the right choice.
Sunlight molded to the slant of his cheekbone, crystallized the clarity of his blue eyes. His lips quirked slightly. "New shoes, too."
"Oh. . . " She looked down. Her shoes were new, just visible under the hem of her skirt. Daintily detailed with a stylish heel, the leather a supportive but soft cocoon for her feet. "Y-yes, I thought I'd try something new." Casting around for something to change the subject, she blurted out that which was uppermost in her mind. "You look lovely, too."
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. A slow crawl of mortified heat twined up her neck. Had she just told Nathan—the man who defined brawny with every masculine pore of his body—that he was lovely?
Her voice was strangled. "Handsome." Weakly, she could only reiterate, "I meant ha-handsome."
Had she never told him that before? It had certainly crossed her mind often enough.
Nathan didn't blush or stutter. Just studied her with those clear sighted, distracting eyes that saw too much, had always seen too much. "Thank you," he finally said, just as the moment teetered on the line between sweet and awkward. "I seem to have misplaced part of my outfit though."
She followed his glance to where his suit jacket and tie were lying tossed over the wooden rail fence that ran the periphery, its aged length crooked and worn to a weathered grey.
A wide smile curved her lips. "Those didn't last long, did they?" she teased.
Wry candor stirred in the answering tilt of his smile. "I spend every day strapped into tight-collared serge. I guess you could say that when the occasion is appropriate, I prefer to roll up my sleeves and unbutton my neck."
Her look was genuine. "Well, both styles look well on you," she said with soft honesty.
Something that looked like surprise flitted across his expression. "Thank you."
"Here, Jack, wait—let me help you." Allie's voice was heard, cheerfully sweet. "We can go for a hay ride together."
Their heads turned in tandem toward the ear-catching words.
Legs too short to do it by himself, Allie was helping Jack conquer the ascent into the hay-laden wagon, where children and adults alike were already gathered atop and along the sides of the massively tall mound of hay that filled its bed. Safely aboard, their two children scurried to seat themselves side by side together on the hay, Jack settling in with an anticipatory smile on his face.
"This is gonna be so much fun, Allie," he enthused, and Allie gave him an affectionate side hug in response.
They look like siblings. They act like siblings. Elizabeth's stomach tightened not unpleasantly at the thought.
"Going?" Nathan lifted an indicating shoulder toward the wagon and tilted his head at her in that endearing manner he had.
She looked at him then, really looked at him—his visage, the drawing power that was him till he was all that filled her vision. Suit jacket and tie discarded. Lightly striped blue dress shirt—faintly rumpled now—amplifying the blue of his eyes. Suit vest cinching the width of his powerful shoulders. Sleeves pushed up on sun-burnished forearms. . .
He was so warmly attractive in the golden sunshine, the pull between them so shimmering, it made her heart ache with a nameless yearning.
She took a breath. "Yes?"
The molasses quality of his slow lopsided smile made her heart lurch. "So, is that a yes-yes or a yes-no, Mrs. Thornton?" he asked softly.
The humor hovering in his eyes was the only thing assuring her lungs it was safe to breathe again. Because that smile had stolen all her oxygen.
"Y-yes," she stuttered. Then more strongly, past the clutching in her throat, "Yes, I-I'll go."
"Come join us, Mrs. Thornton," Allie called, little Jack tucked close to her side and her arm protectively around him, keeping him from sliding off the open side of the wagon where both their legs dangled free, swinging happily together.
Elizabeth moved towards the small stool someone had thoughtfully placed by the lowered tailgate, gathering her skirts in one hand, the other reaching for the gate to assist herself up.
"May I?" Like a whisper of attentiveness, Nathan was there, solid and oh, so male. He extended his hand to her with a courtesy that was deeply, simply him.
Her heart sped up. To hold his hand again. . .
It wouldn't be the first time her hand had been encased inside his—handholds at a certain find-the-man-you're-meant-to-be-with game, and outside the Yost's wedding reception flooded her mind—but it might as well have been given the emotion the sweet intensity in his eyes stirred within her.
Surrendering to its pull, she laid her hand atop his proffered palm, the soft scrape of callouses—evidence that he reveled in working with his hands, unafraid of hard labor—slid over her skin with a reality that captivated her. His masculine roughness. Her feminine softness.
Nathan said nothing. But his fingers curled around hers—ever so slightly, barely more than a murmur of movement. She could feel his gaze on her profile as she somewhat awkwardly scooted and pulled herself onto the wagon, his hand all the strength she could ever need.
Imagine if-if Nathan had lifted you into the wagon. How much easier and quicker this would be, not to mention how much more—
STOP. She batted the pestering little voice away, hard.
Nathan seemed unaware of her inner turmoil. Ignoring the stool, he hoisted himself up onto the tailgate beside her in a single lithe roll. He moved like a jungle cat; male prowess on display in ways she'd never seen before.
She lowered her eyes, tried not to sigh in despairing self-depreciation. Because of course he could handle a nearly four-foot tall obstacle she'd struggled with like it was nothing. Of course.
Trying to ignore the bereft feeling that his hand leaving hers engendered proved harder. It lingered, even as she flusteredly turned away from him.
"Mama," Jack beamed at her from where he sat, "come sit 'side me."
"I'd love that." She smiled with all the gentleness in her maternal heart. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than beside you."
Well, except perhaps beside a certain strapping Mountie. . .
Jack's giggle was mischievous. "Wait, mama—I want Mountie Nathan to sit 'side me. You sit 'side him." His smile turned angelic.
Elizabeth almost narrowed her eyes at him, finding it hard not to smile at his innocent matchmaking despite her flabbergasted state at his forthrightness. Allie was hiding a telltale grin on the other side of her son, and not very well either.
It wasn't so much that she'd be sitting beside Nathan. She would have been sitting beside him even if she'd seated herself next to Jack. No, it was that Jack so clearly wanted to sit beside Nathan himself. She didn't know what to do with that revelation. Or did she?
Nathan settled himself alongside her as she made a seat in the hay, legs draping over the side well past hers. Jack happily wriggled into place between the two Grants.
The wagon lurched as it started off before smoothing out. Elizabeth turned her face to the sun like one of the white-blossomed sweet woodruff dotting the path they slowly trundled along, springing back up even after the wagon wheels rolled over them.
Closing her eyes, she just soaked in the tender joy of her child's laughter, the glories of spring, Nathan and Allie so close to her, all celebrating the glory of Christ's Resurrection.
When at length she opened her eyes with a content sigh, Nathan was watching her, the children chattering on the other side of him. He'd slung an arm across the mounded hay behind them and was rested back against it, limbs loose and relaxed, shoulders shifted in her direction as he gazed upon her.
His eyes were as lazy and soft as the springtime sun on her skin, and her heart began to ooze warmth under her ribcage.
There was no pressure in his gaze, no intensity; just a soft tender awareness of her that made her feel more alive than anything since Jack's birth had.
The blood in her veins, the cells in her skin, all seemed to dance and coil with anticipation, filled with a lurching prayer.
Could he ever. . . forgive her? Her selfish and ill-mannered actions towards him over several years had been haunting her with fresh sting.
Nathan's eyes drifted a little to the left of her face, his hand lifting to reach for the same spot. She felt the warmth of his fingers against her scalp, the soft way his touch whispered through the strands of her hair.
Déjà vu flooded her. He had reached for her face much the same way after his recent birthday party, when it was just the two of them outside, standing under a pool of warmly glowing gaslight on the boardwalk. But that had been just to remove—
Confetti.
"Hay."
She started. "Wh-what?" Why did her cheeks feel like volcanic lava?
"Hay," Nathan repeated, slow and soft like a secret language only they could interpret. "You have. . . a piece of hay in your hair."
The freshness of his mountain scent, layered against aged leather and wood, and the earthy sweetness of hay, surrounded her, emanating from the closeness of his skin. A dizzy little pirouette spun her mind, sky above blurring into a melded whirlwind of white and robin's-egg blue.
"Mama's got hay in her hair," Jack chortled, his little giggle gleeful. "And so does Allie!"
Nathan didn't yank his hand away, didn't show a single sign of discomfort. He just slowly pulled back, a small length of hay captured between his fingers. "Got it," he whispered, eyes never leaving hers, then lightly, deliberately tossed it away.
Elizabeth started breathing again.
"Maybe I'll put some hay in your hair," Allie teased Jack, distracting him, but the fleeting glance she tucked their way felt wiser than her years. "What do you say to that?"
"Noooo!" Jack squealed, squirming on the wagon edge as if there was some giant imaginary bucket of hay about to be upended over him.
"Careful, you two," Nathan stepped in before Elizabeth could intervene, casually laying an arm across Jack's chest to protect him from himself. "We don't want you falling overboard while you're having fun."
Jack wrapped his arms around the corded length of Nathan's bare forearm and just looked at him, eyes wide with the innocent trust that only a child could have. "I won't fall out, Mountie Nathan. You won't let me."
It was said with the same surety as one would state the sun rose and set; a fact of life that he accepted without a single ripple of doubt in his little mind.
A dangerous bleeding feeling suffused the misbehaving organ in Elizabeth's chest and she had to look away to hide the bite of sudden tears.
There was the gentlest graze of an arm against hers, almost as if Nathan sensed her upheaval and was trying to comfort her the only way he was free to.
"It's true, Jack," he said steadily. "I won't let you fall."
"I know." Jack's matter-of-fact sweetness almost killed Elizabeth's still wobbly heart. "An' if you're not there, I can just hold my Mountie Nathan. See, like this."
Elizabeth had to take a deep breath before she could trust herself to look over. Sure enough, her son's little fist was tightly clutched around the mounted Mountie figurine, holding it up like a trophy, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Did you name that after my dad?" Allie asked curiously.
"Yup." Jack nodded sturdily. "I 'cided this is Mountie Nathan and New'on. One day I'm gonna ride New'on, right, Mountie Nathan?"
"Jack," Elizabeth scolded her son, tears forgotten as she focused on reminding him on his manners. "You wait to be asked, remember? You don't invite yourself."
"Sorry, mama." He looked appropriately contrite for all of three seconds, then brightened and peered back up at Nathan. "But can I, Mountie Nathan? If you 'vite me?"
Nathan looked at Elizabeth, the hay a homey backdrop rising behind his dark head. "Well, 'mama'. . . ?"
She blushed beet red. Mercy, this man was going to be the death of her. "I-well, yes. If you—"
"Take every safety precaution known to man in the last two thousand years?" Nathan's eyes crinkled, warmly teasing. "Consider it done."
"Yay, Allie, I get'ta ride New'on! You gonna come watch me?"
"I wouldn't miss it." She squeezed his hand. "This I have to see."
"And you, 'mama?'" Nathan's eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her with his soft voice and archly provoking tone, calling her by a name he'd never once called her in the half-decade he'd known her.
"I'm going to get you back, Nathan Grant," she said in a sotto-voiced aside, before smoothly leaning forward to tell Jack, "I'd love to come see you ride Newton, sweetheart. Would you like me to come?"
"Uh-huh." He nodded vigorously. "Then we can all be together."
Then we can all be together.
Her little boy did know how to pierce her heart with the sweetest pang.
It was a good thing the wagon was pulling to a stop back in the meadow where they'd begun because she wasn't sure how much more of this her heart could take without a respite.
Nathan hopped down into the grass, reached up and helped Allie and Jack down, then stood with hands loosely slung over his hips, looking after them with content eyes as they ran off giggling together.
Elizabeth took advantage of his distraction—because there was no way she was risking Nathan reaching to lift her off in the manner he had the children—picked up Jack's forgotten and empty Easter egg, and scooted across mounded hay to the open tailgate, headed for the short stool positioned to give the ladies a slightly more ladylike way to alight with their long skirts. She got to her feet on the opened tailgate, preparing to step down onto the stool, which would get her one level closer to firm ground.
She never even saw the cluster of slick hay on the edge of the tailgate.
One minute she was upright, cheerful sunshine warming her from overhead; the next her foot slipped out from under her and she was falling, a startled gasp on her lips, eyes huge with shock as her hands scrambled for purchase.
Air and empty space were all that were beneath her—and then there was a blur of motion before her—Nathan—and two hard arms found her, halting her fall in its tracks.
She jolted into place in his arms, hair swinging, as they both absorbed the force of her impact.
Her blood vessels constricted, white face flooding with color, a shocked stare throwing her eyes wide as she froze, right hand clutching Nathan's shoulder with Jack's egg, the other wrapped about his upper arm, feeling the bunch and flex of strength under her palms as he adjusted to her weight.
Time itself seemed to stand still in the moment, as if acknowledging their hearts' superiority to the ticking of a second-hand. The world tunneled in till the rhythm of heartbeats was the only thing marring their perfect stillness.
His gaze flickered over her face, fastened on her eyes. His firmly molded lips moved, but it took a second before she could comprehend the words. "I've got you, Elizabeth," he graveled.
Words he'd said first to her son today, and now to her. I've got you. If only he knew how much.
But it was her name, said the way only he did, said the way he hadn't in two years, that made her catch her breath, her shoulders tensing. Lizabeth. The opening "e" was always lost in the soft "l" that rolled off his tongue.
"Are you hurt?" he asked tautly.
Awareness rushed through her. It was highly inappropriate for her to remain thus with him even a second longer.
She squirmed a little, trying to convey as much, even though her breathing still came hard from the adrenalin. "I'm fine. I just slipped a-and fell."
"I noticed." His face was grim. But he didn't release her. "Are you certain you're unhurt?" His eyes searched hers.
She bobbed her head, aware that heads were starting to turn. "I promise," she murmured softly, even as her hands began to shake with tardy nerves. "You saved me from harm and I'm quite well. It just scared me."
"You and me both," he muttered, breath a warm wash of mint over her hair.
There was only one thing that still scared her. And that was. . . that was. . .
Soft, slow, uncertain, she tried to speak it. "Nathan. . . I. . . "
He set her down slowly, a grave cast gilding the rugged planes of his face, almost as if subconsciously he recognized the weight of the impromptu moment.
"Yes?" he asked guardedly, seeming to sense what would come next would play a determining factor in wherever they went from here.
She swallowed hard in a throat that suddenly seemed lined with gravel. "I need. . . " Panic rose. Could she actually do this?
You can, a little voice whispered like a cool breeze.
She steadied. "I need to tell you something, Nathan; something I should have told you two years ago."
His hands fell from her waist.
She wasn't sure he was breathing, so still had he become. But the heartbeat that pulsed through a vein in his strong neck attested to his living state. His eyes, those speaking eyes, told her more clearly than words: Go on, Elizabeth. Speak.
"You're not Jack," she whispered her truth, the words tearing free from the most honest place in her being. "And I never thought you were. But I couldn't, wouldn't face the truth that. . . time. . . in your office." A shudder racked her shaking form; horrified repugnance at the memory. "I never let on, couldn't. . . because that would mean I was wrong, but the memory of your face as I left the jail has haunted my dreams for two years."
She stopped to breath, and he let her, quietly waiting, eyes intent but flickering with something she couldn't put her finger on. Some deep fire, long extinguished but slowly resurrecting as the light of truth shone brighter with her every word.
"You were right: I-I was in love with you," she confessed, throat ragged with the weeping she kept inside. "But I chose cruel cowardice instead of truth; I hurt you and Allie—and more than just that time." Her whisper was raw, barely audible now, but she had to finish, had to get out perhaps the most vital part. With the last strength left in her, she raised pleading eyes, huge, glassy pools of remorse, to his. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day."
Will you. . . can you trust me with your heart, again?
Nathan's gaze pierced through every last defense she had. He finally seemed to draw breath again, and a thread of tension left the set of his neck.
"We've been down a long, long road, you and I," he said with aching slowness, "and we have things left to work through before I can fully trust you. But I need you to know this." He reached for her, gathering both her hands into his as her heart thudded and thawed. "I want you, Elizabeth Thornton." It was his voice now that slid into rawness, the husk unmistakable. "I want your past, I want your present, I want your future. I want little Jack, I want what we could be, the four of us, and I'm willing to do everything it may take to get us there. Are you?"
The question—not snarky, not belittling, just honest—hung suspended in the air between them as they hovered on the cusp of something more.
"Yes. Anything, Nathan." It was shaky, no more than a breath, but with it, more came home. Uncontrolled, a tear spilled over. It burned a trail of contrition down her cheek, the residue of two wasted years. "I want you." Just you. Only you.
Her name was a rough exhale on his tongue. "Elizabeth." His thumb brushed the teardrop away in a sweep of absolution, his whisper—"Don't cry"— a throb of tenderness that was nearly her undoing.
"You deserve tears. You deserve more than tears," she stated passionately, unsteadily.
One more brush of his thumb, then he withdrew his hand, leaving her cold in the wake of his warmth.
A slow simmer started in his eyes. "Like what?" he teased, and when his eyebrow slanted in a slow arch, she knew the shift in mood was deliberate; him giving her emotions space to stabilize. "Mayyyybe some. . . banana bread?"
An involuntary laugh escaped her lips, watery with residual emotion. "Th-that's what you want? Banana bread?"
"Why not?" He challenged her, tone ripe with warm sass. "You did keep a loaf pan 'just in case,' remember?"
She could only shake her head, smiling helplessly. "You and your sweet tooth, Nathan Grant."
"Good thing you've got baking skills, Elizabeth Thornton." He slipped a hand in his pocket, casual and lean, and looked at her from under eyes gone lazy-lidded. "We each have something the other needs."
A frisson skittered across her bones. "Your penchant for baked goods, and my penchant for baking them?" she pretended to guess nonchalantly, but his gaze left her a little breathless.
Then he grinned, a flash of white against the tan of his skin, and ease swam between them once again. "Precisely. When can I expect my first loaf?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. "I. . . uh," she smiled weakly, "could perhaps rustle one up. . . by the end of the week?"
"Week's end it is."
And just like that, the topic was settled. And the gift of banana bread, committed.
Elizabeth took a breath, air slipping past lips gone dry. Straightened her shoulders. Decided to be bold. Brave. Make another change. Step forward in truth and grace.
"Maybe you would like to bring Allie"—she clasped her trembling hands together to hide their shake—"and we could have a picnic on the dock?"
He stilled. "The four of us?" he asked carefully.
"The four of us," she confirmed—and felt the rightness of it settle over her like a warm blanket. Her heart was finally open, new life breathing through its chambers, and she wanted this—with him. "A banana bread picnic, with the four of us."
She could almost feel the last petal blooming in the flowering of her heart, much like the graceful white snowdrops brushing her ankles. Easter, with all its promise and light, had brought renewal in ways she'd never dared dream when she woke that morning.
Nathan's voice was deep and sure. "It's a date." He took her hand, fingers slowly twining through hers, and she almost wept at the rightness of it, at the relief. Finally.
How long she had wanted to take his hand. But he had taken hers instead and it was perfect; perfect for who they were now. Two fallible human beings in a fallen world, returned to each other by the grace of God and a drop of courage and hope.
All she could do was cuddle her hand closer into his, letting it speak for her, for her heart was too full. Nathan by her side, holding her hand—it was an Easter miracle too fantastical, too blessed to be anything else.
His thumb brushed across the back of her hand like a ray of heavenly benediction. "Let's go find our children, Elizabeth."
She was helpless to do anything but smile perhaps the biggest smile ever to grace her face, stopping all who saw it in their tracks. "I think that sounds. . . " She paused, caught his eye, and in the word that had become as much a code for I love you as "Be safe," finished, ". . . great."
His eyes lit with joy, a knowing grin edging his mouth. "One day soon, Elizabeth," he promised lowly with meaning, eyes darkening with the intensity of his heart, then began to lead them out of the shadows and into the light that awaited them.
Elizabeth's eyes were finally opened, and the view of her future, filled with the gift of Nathan's love, unfurled before her heart—a late blooming if one looked through the eyes of earthly time, but just in time for the timing of God.
Hand in hand in the Easter sunshine, Nathan and Elizabeth walked together toward their future. It beckoned them with the laughter of children, and the promise of an ever expanding joy to come.
·oOo·
A/N II: The End! :) Just a happy little piece, but I dearly hope you liked it. It was a joy to write this past week. I wanted it to capture, even in a small way, what truth looks like when you set it free—the glow, the hope, the LIGHT, and the golden warmth of what S11 appears poised to burst forth upon our more-than-ready N&E hearts.
This snapshot of what a S11 N&E Easter could look like was my very first one-shot—and I loved the experience. Short, sweet, wrapped up. Maybe I'll do more of them? If you're still in the mood for more N&E Easter, the epilogue/Ch. 9 of my "Expecting Christmas" story is also all Easter and will be uploaded soon. :) HUGS & HAPPY EASTER, friends!
