Author's note: Hello all! It's been a long time since I've published anything on here, and I'm very happy to be back, though I don't know how much this story will get seen with the site's email notifications currently not working.
With Nathan and Elizabeth now becoming an on-screen reality in Season 11 of WCTH (a huge hooray for that!), I was inspired to write a story about them where Elizabeth finally fully admits her feelings for Nathan, first privately in her journal, and then verbally to him. Her verbal confession is spurred along by a very important page in her journal going missing!
Also, Elizabeth does make a "hair change" in this story, but instead of getting her hair cut shorter as in the actual show, she goes back to her curly locks from the earlier seasons (which Nathan is quite fascinated by)!
This story is intended to be a feel-good, sweet story with humor, but also with deep emotions displayed by Nathan and Elizabeth and heartfelt contrition from Elizabeth.
I have many stories on this site that remain unfinished—most of which I plan to go back to. The good news for this story is that I have pretty much written the whole rough draft of it—roughly, lol—and I am determined to post chapters regularly and not leave you all hanging with this one! It's not going to be that long of a story—probably about 5 or 6 chapters in total.
I hope you enjoy it, and cheers to Nathan and Elizabeth—that fictional couple who are very nearly impossible to stop thinking about!
The Page She Left Behind
Chapter 1: Courage and Constraint
Carry out your late afternoon rounds. Fill out that paperwork you've been putting off. Declutter the top drawer of your desk. A to-do list sprinted speedily across Nathan Grant's mind with several productive tasks he could—and should— execute before the end of his workday.
But it was almost four in the afternoon. And every weekday for the past two weeks, precisely at four o' clock, Ms. Elizabeth Thornton had passed through town, looking as if she was undergoing a most captivating transformation. One arm hugging her journal vigilantly to her chest, and the other wielding a bag of schoolbooks and supplies, her pastel blue eyes had reflected a particularly becoming, newly established peace, like waters reflect the tranquilly blowing cattails at their edges.
And her hair. She had always had lovely hair, burnt caramel in both its shade and in how effortlessly it cascaded down her neck and back in slightly wavy sheets. But these days, it tumbled over her shoulders in spunky ringlets that had a mind of their own and that easily drew Nathan into their lovely labyrinth.
For the first few days, Nathan had secretly, and shyly, observed this seemingly renewed Elizabeth from behind the closed door of his Mountie office. He felt a bit guilty for stealing glances at her through his window—after all, a Mountie should only spy on unsavory characters who might bring trouble to a town, not on a beautiful lady, no matter how troublesome that lady proved to be to his heart.
But the fresh, newfound peace that had been sprouting in her eyes, and her compact curls that Nathan had never seen before, delightfully disordered yet fearlessly free as they were, captured his attention much more than any of his current Mountie cases. The fact that he had borne deep feelings for her for nearly six years now—which still tenaciously clung to his heart even after she had cruelly rejected him—didn't help matters. He loved her. Always would.
And he still very much possessed the inkling that she loved him too, and always had.
About five months ago, she had broken up with Lucas Bouchard, effectively fracturing her engagement with the astute entrepreneur and newly elected governor. Ever since then, Nathan's heart had beaten with hope anew and bounced with a sprightlier step in his day-to-day duties—notwithstanding the fact that Elizabeth's presence tended to divert his attention from such duties—because there was a chance for him and Elizabeth, after all. He told himself to curb those hopes from surging upward in his heart. It was, after all, up to Elizabeth and Elizabeth only to come around, to dismantle that protective casing she had firmly maintained around her heart for years.
Still, scaling back those hopes was arduous when his heart and her heart were two pendulums continually swinging toward each other, consistently reaching with staunch determination in the other's direction. Nathan's interactions with Elizabeth over these last few months had been laden with an underlying longing and softness, not just on his part, but very much on hers as well.
He couldn't help but notice the way her eyelashes often swiftly skittered across the skin under her eyelids when he was near her. He always made a point to try not to blink while she was blinking so he wouldn't miss their delightful dancing.
And after her eyelashes fluttered at him, delicate russet-colored wings manifesting her inner butterflies, her sky-blue eyes always swelled toward him with such tender openness that they may as well have been two microscopes into her soul.
Nathan Grant considered himself a rather focused, disciplined man whose work ethic typically was nothing if not vigorously diligent. But working on any one of his to-do list items at that exact moment instead of seeing her and her butterfly eyelashes and soul-revealing eyes seemed too sad of a trade for him to commit to.
Every day this week, Nathan had seized the courage to go outside and hold brief conversations with Elizabeth in passing. Today would be no different.
He casually strolled out of his office and down its stairs, stationing himself near Newton, tied to the hitching post to Nathan's left. Nathan looked quite peaceable and unfazed, the quintessential representation of serene strength. His heart, however, turbulently ticked against his chest, its unsteady rhythm standing in sharp contrast to the consistently ticking grandfather clock near his desk that he had momentarily left behind. His hastily beating heart and nervous eagerness to see her ironically slowed the passing seconds to a lethargic snail's pace.
After about two minutes of waiting, which felt more like twenty, he could see a lean, stately, book-and-journal-laden figure emerge from the bend at the far end of town, near the Dress Shop. She appeared to be coming from the direction of the schoolhouse. There, she taught Hope Valley's children faithfully each weekday, with an unparalleled patience and a laudable balance of discipline and kindness.
As Elizabeth sauntered closer, he reminisced about the times he had seen her in her element—in teaching mode. Before Elizabeth had courted Lucas Bouchard, and during Allie's younger days, Nathan had gone to pick up his niece-turned-daughter at the close of each school day—whereas now, she usually walked home herself or spent time at a friend's house in the afternoon. A handful of these times when Nathan had picked up Allie, during warmer spring days when the door to the schoolhouse stayed open for air circulation purposes, he had arrived just a few minutes early to catch a few glimpses of Elizabeth instructing Hope Valley's youth.
During such times, she had spotted him through the open door. She had then acknowledged his arrival with a self-conscious smile and pink sapphire cheeks, the air between them having swiftly evolved from balmy spring to full-fledged summer. He had fired an off-kilter grin back at her in return, and she had briskly rerouted her gaze to her students, stuttering just a bit in her next proclamation to them. That he flustered her was quite plain to see. But little did he know how it was only with God-supplied strength that she was able to salvage her focus and successfully see the last of the day's lessons through to completion. To Nathan's observation, she had taught the children with an elegant, seemingly effortless expertise.
Nathan forced himself to depart from those pleasant memories and come back home to the present. After several more sweetly drawn-out minutes, Elizabeth made it to within hearing distance of Nathan.
And so, it was time for him to commence their day's conversation.
"Lizbeth. Happy Thursday!" Nathan called out to her.
As she came closer, he added in a warmhearted tone, "One more day until a well-deserved weekend for you." Silvery flecks sambaed in his blue moonstone eyes. While he was adept at prompting her eyelashes to dance, she was effortlessly skilled at spurring his eyes to step in a lively rhythm.
"Happy Thursday, Nathan," she echoed back. Those glinting gemstone eyes of Nathan's, a rare marvel, caught Elizabeth's complete focus—not only this afternoon, but also time and time again—with their beckoning beauty.
A pretty blush of pink cotton spun itself across her cheeks, her hand still feeling the smooth, cool wood of the fountain pen she had used to write a pivotal confession about him mere minutes ago, and her heart feeling the weightiness of that confession, which lay in her journal under her arm. She inwardly rejoiced with relief that, though Nathan had the superpowers of sidetracking her with his sparkling eyes and maneuvering her heartstrings in an allegro fashion, he did not possess the superpower of seeing through her journal. Still, he was seasoned at seeing through her heart's hidden pages, and that was, in essence, the same thing.
It had always been him whom she loved. He had always made her feel profoundly unsteady, in the loveliest, most soul-stirring sort of way. Yet, she had tried to squash her deep feelings for him that permanently resided in the core of her heart and bosom of her soul, tried to obliterate them by being with another man who was safer, as unjust as that was to Nathan, Lucas, and her own self. But the surface-level kind of love she had with Lucas had never been fulfilling; her heart had always cried out for something more as her conscience sat with the continual awareness that something was acutely, persistently off about her and Lucas' connection and relationship.
And today, after years of having come face-to-face with Nathan Grant, and after several days of sweet one-on-one conversations with him in town, her feelings had accosted her fully. They had stared her right in the face earlier that afternoon until she had agreed to acknowledge them by pressing ink to paper, and with Nathan now near, they were once again confronting her.
Over the past two weeks, she had relayed in her journal many of her interactions with Nathan over the years and detailed his countless characteristics that she loved and admired, until she finally admitted in its pages—less than an hour ago—that she loved him. She felt at peace with the truth. And yet, the thought of declaring her love out loud to him still filled her with an overabundance of nerves.
"Been doing some writing lately?" Nathan inquired, pairing his inquiry with a nod of acknowledgement toward her journal. A sixth sense told him the journal—and the potential writing she had been doing in it—had played a significant role in her transformation.
He had barely finished his question before red velvet replaced the pink cotton on her cheeks. Most interesting, he thought.
It was an innocent enough question. Why was she so chagrined by it?
Unless, of course, she had been writing about him...a man could hope, couldn't he?
"Y-y-yes," Elizabeth managed to wring the word out of her mouth, but barely. Her eyes suddenly pretended to find Hope Valley's dirt road endlessly fascinating, like it was some kind of luxurious carpet imported from India instead of conventional gravel native to the town.
Meanwhile, even as her actual voice resorted back to a shy silence, her inner voice answered Nathan's question in further detail: I've been doing some writing down at the pond after school each day. And YOU have been my main subject.
Nathan noticed how she hugged her journal more tightly to her chest after she answered in the affirmative, as if she was very protective and possessive about what she had drafted inside it. Perhaps my hopes of her writing about me are not unfounded, he pondered. He felt his lips cracking in a smile at the notion.
"That is wonderful, Elizabeth," he responded with sunny, benevolent encouragement, hoping to alleviate her all-of-a-sudden tense state. "I am so happy you are doing what you love to do."
"Thank you, Nathan," Elizabeth remarked in return. The softness in his voice emboldened her to look up from the coarse road and back into his gentle eyes.
As she did, she noticed how his eyes' glassy waters contained riptides of curiosity bubbling in their corners. He can tell something is up. No surprise there. His Mountie senses are on high alert. And he's always been quite proficient at reading my heart.
"You look so at peace these days," Nathan continued. "I'm so happy to see you looking so content."
"And your hair," he added, his voice now even softer, his eyes' waters washing with reposeful ease over Elizabeth. "I can't help but notice how curly it's been lately. It's really quite striking." So striking I stop whatever I'm doing every time four o'clock rolls around, so I can come out and see you.
"Thank you," Elizabeth echoed back shyly once more, her breath momentarily abandoning her despite her best efforts to retain it—how rude for it to depart from her in Nathan Grant's presence, when she needed it the most!—and her brain obliging her eyes to maintain eye contact with him amidst his lovely compliments. She only kept her eyes wired to his with abundant effort; it was not easy, due to the way his warm words—and gentle, yet keenly curious eyes—struck her right in the heart.
Yet, simultaneously, it was all too easy to look into his eyes—they welcomed her into their depths. Their riptide remnants tugged her eyes toward them even more, making her want to give clear, honest answers to the unspoken queries they were asking about the focus of her writing. Still, her nerves stood in the way.
"This is my natural hair," noted Elizabeth, recapturing her breath and voice with difficulty. Though she couldn't find it in her at that moment to provide Nathan with answers about her writing—and to share with him the admission in her journal centered around him—she could provide him with an explanation about her curly locks.
"For years, I've been straightening my hair each morning with a flat iron. But, if I'm being honest, I got tired of the work, and it's nice to go back to who I am, truly and fully, without any alterations. It's freeing, in a way."
If I'm being honest...the irony of those words was not lost on Elizabeth. She winced internally at them, at how she could be so straightforward with Nathan about her curly hair, but so reticent with him about her heart—her heart which felt so deeply for him, her heart whose many winding avenues always lead to him.
"But part of me has been concerned that my curls are too unruly, and unbecoming. So, I really appreciate the compliment." She beamed at Nathan, her smile quickly stretching to its full potential.
They were rather lawless, those curls—right up there with the most insubordinate citizens Nathan had ever come across—which was likely why he had a difficult time focusing on his actual Mountie cases. But they were certainly not unbecoming. And how was he supposed to restrain the hopes of his heart when she smiled at him like that?
Always do what you are afraid to do. Words that had played a pivotal role in his and Elizabeth's meaningful friendship, which had always possessed the underpinnings of something much deeper, rushed across his mind like a stream replenished by steady storms.
"Your curls...they...they are the complete opposite of unbecoming," Nathan bumpily blurted out, wanting to rid Elizabeth of her insecurities. He felt his own cheeks flush a bit at his forwardness but didn't regret his words.
There went those fluttery eyelashes of Elizabeth's—and, as was tradition, Nathan willed himself not to blink. Meanwhile, burgundy enveloped her cheeks, and her face succumbed to a more bashful, but still clearly perceptible, smile. Her eyes then extended toward Nathan's in a pronounced display of openness and receptivity, gratitude running through them along with lingering smidgens of shyness.
Nathan grinned right back at her in turn, but, detecting her overwhelm, he took it as his cue to change the subject.
"How was your day at school? Allie didn't give you any trouble, I hope?"
"No, she didn't." Elizabeth replied, only a few ounces of color receding from her cheeks. "She's come a long way since her early days in Hope Valley, while still retaining her trademark spunk."
A thread of laughter launched itself from Nathan's throat, sewing itself into a comforting shawl for Elizabeth and extinguishing the residual chill in the early spring air.
How lovely it would be to continually be warmed by this man's hearty laughter every day...
Focus, Elizabeth!
"Allie really has come a long way," Nathan concurred. "I'm overjoyed she has still maintained much of her spunk, while practicing hard work, discipline, and respect. I'm very proud of her, of the young woman she's become."
"As you should be," Elizabeth affirmed, eyes spellbinding in their blend of vibrant softness.
"She has a stellar teacher who has done an outstanding job of shaping her. Perhaps you know her...Ms. Thornton is her name? Ever heard of her?"
"Oh, Nathan!" Elizabeth giggled back, blushing cheeks going nowhere anytime soon.
Nathan shot a smile loaded with mischief her way.
After taking a few moments to recover, Elizabeth asserted, "You've been Allie's most important teacher, teaching her life's most valuable lessons at home, and you've done an incredible job raising her and instilling core values in her."
"Don't ever forget that, Nathan," she added, eyes weighted with sincerity, holding his steadily.
Now, it was Nathan's turn to blink, words evading him.
At the deep turn in conversation, both Nathan and Elizabeth could feel the pendulums of their hearts reaching closer...
Say something, Nathan!
"Thank you, Lizbeth. That means a great deal to me." Those words were all he could come up with in the moment. Yet, they were genuine and honest, like the burnt umber blush surfacing on his cheeks, which Elizabeth found quite endearing.
"How is Jack?" Though her compliment would hold an eternal place in his heart, Nathan wished to divert the focus of their conversation away from himself.
"He is doing well. With Easter coming soon, he has developed a particular fondness for and fascination with bunnies, and he is continually perfecting the fine art of hopping on one leg," she grinned. Nathan chuckled in response.
Right after she shared that tidbit, a precious vision popped into her brain of the man in front of her, looking remarkably handsome in a steel grey vest and matching trousers, striking white undershirt, and Caribbean blue tie that perfectly complemented his eyes, engaged in a hopping race with Little Jack in her backyard on Easter Sunday. Nathan was clearly hopping much more slowly than he was capable of, in order to kindly give Jack a chance at winning.
Elizabeth felt her blush revive and her hands tremble a bit in response to her instantaneous reverie. Hold on to your journal at all costs; do not drop it! She warned herself.
Nathan raised a concerned eyebrow at her suddenly unnerved state. "Everything okay, Lizbeth?"
"J-j-just fine," she fibbed, trying to save face, "But I'd best be going now. I am going to go pick up some soup to-go at the Cafe so Jack and I can eat that for dinner, and then I must go relieve Laura of her babysitting duties for the day. Have a great evening, Nathan."
Her eyes warmed, remaining on Nathan's for several heartbeats. He received her eyes with equal warmth and delighted in their extended, affectionate gaze. After a few moments, she realized she was looking into his eyes considerably longer than a mere friend would, and at propriety's promptings, she hurriedly shifted her eyes down to the ground.
"Enjoy your soup and evening, and Little Jack's company, Lizbeth," Nathan said steadily in salutation, unruffled by her hasty look away.
"Thank you," Elizabeth answered, her eyes gradually rebounding back upward toward his. "Have a great rest of your workday and evening with Allie. Talk tomorrow, Nathan?" Hope alit in her eyes.
"I wouldn't miss it," he responded quickly, smile askew and eyes once again sambaing spiritedly.
Flirty Nathan is certainly adorable...a definite threat to my typically even and measured heart rate, Elizabeth's inner voice declared.
"G-g-great...See you tomorrow, Nathan."
"Great. See you then, Lizbeth." His winsome, handsome grin grew broader.
A spiral of unsteadiness swept over Hope Valley's typically composed and collected schoolteacher, and she felt more than a touch lightheaded, but in a pleasant way. Get a grip and go get your soup, Elizabeth! Swapping your warm cheeks for hot soup will be a welcome exchange. Though, at this rate, with your Nathan Grant-induced instability, you'd better not spill it!