One Week Later

Nathan Grant sat at his desk, staring blankly at the single page that had been delivered to his office just a short time before, his fingers tracing the words that were printed. Valley Voice. Final Edition. And after that, in bold print, that took up a full one-third of the page. HOPE GONE.

It had been an exhausting week and one that had called upon the Mountie to use every bit of training and every resource that he had at his disposal, but at the end of the day, it just wasn't enough. Oh, the town proper was saved, the buildings on Main Street being untouched by the fire that destroyed millions of acres of forest throughout Alberta. But Wolfe's farm, Lawson's ranch, Lee's lumber – it was just gone, and there was nothing Nathan could have done to save it. Thank Heaven there was no loss of life. At least there was that.

Joseph's sermon that Sunday morning was geared toward their wounded hearts and drew upon the theme that, perhaps not coincidently, he had preached for the past two months – God's Hand of Providence in Troubled Times. He reminded the congregants that "material possessions, while sometimes hard to come by, can usually be replaced. But, it is the people, not places or things, that matter most to God, and wherever He sends His people next and how far from Hope Valley they find themselves, God will be with them to care for them and direct their paths wherever they would go. And there were tears when Minnie Canfield closed out the service to the lyrics of one of Grant's favorite songs; His Eye is On The Sparrow.

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,

Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav'n and home,

When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free,

For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

The Congregation lingered in prayer for quite a while after service ended, and then most filed back into the town where each building was now used to either store belongings or house people.

Soon, it would be empty, and Nathan wondered what would become of the people he'd grown to care for through the years. Would he ever see them again?

Pushing the paper aside, Nathan retrieved the other important document that he had received that morning – a telegram from Mountie Headquarters denoting his reassignment and promotion to inspector at Fort Vermillion, a small community in the far North part of the province. Nathan knew that while the post itself was not prestigious, the promotion was just the opening he needed to progress in his career as a Mountie. With it, and two- or three-years' experience in the role, he could move on to possibly be an inspector in Union City or Edmonton or Calgary. And although in prior years he would have jumped at that chance, he wondered about the impact such a move would have upon those he loved, upon Allie, and now upon Jenny, Luke, and Jo. He shook his head. He needed guidance now more than ever.

Jenny was distracted as she stared out the window of the hotel but could hear the voices of her children in the background as they chatted with their grandparents. Looking down at the street, she was saddened at the lack of traffic since the fire. So many had packed up and left, leaving her to wonder how Lucas would feel about this turn of events if he was here.

Thinking of Lucas, Jenny couldn't help but think of the lovely schoolteacher that he had fallen so deeply in love with right here in this small town. Elizabeth had loved Hope Valley, and Jenny was glad that at least she had been spared this heartache even though her loss was keenly felt.

"Mother?"

Luke's voice brought her out of her musing, and she turned with a smile on her face. "Yes, Luke?"

"Grandmother said that Gustave has made us some special cookies. Would it be alright if I took Jo downstairs so we may have some with milk?"

With everything that had happened in the last year, Jenny still struggled to let them out of her sight- even though she had allowed them an extended vacation with their grandparents a few months ago.

"I guess that would be alright," she finally answered. "But don't leave the building." They should be safe enough in Hope Valley these days.

"Come on, Jo."

Jenny smiled as she watched her nearly grown son take the hand of his smaller sister. As they left the room, she turned to her parents, her smile fading.

"Sit with us," Helen said as she patted the cushion next to her. It was easy to see the toll that Lucas's disappearance had taken on her mother; she had aged several years in the last few months. Jenny walked over and sat down.

"What's on your mind?" Martin asked, his expression troubled.

"Other than my brother?"

Helen reached over and took her daughter's hand. "Yes. Other than him."

"Mother, I'm concerned about the people of Hope Valley. So many have lost everything, and I don't know what will happen to them."

Her parents looked at each other knowingly as Helen squeezed Jenny's hand. "We are taking care of that."

"You? What does that mean, Mother?"

Her father was the one who spoke up to answer. "Jenny, I don't know if you are aware, but Lucas gave us a power of attorney over his finances and belongings before he left for New Orleans. It is...considerably...more than we knew. While we knew he was successful, your brother was also quite wealthy."

"Meaning, what?"

"Jenny, while Lucas kept his dealings close to the vest, he was a millionaire. His assets totaled close to 2 million dollars."

"A million..." The word faded on her tongue.

"Obviously, you didn't know either."

"I had no idea."

The room grew silent as the three pondered the reality of who Lucas Bouchard really was. The more Jenny thought about it, the more she loved the man her brother had become. Wealthy and yet generous.

"He also left us a short letter telling us that if anything were to happen to him, that we needed to use his money to help the people of Hope Valley first before deciding what to do with the rest. Therefore, your mother and I are going to do exactly that with part of his capital. We will be giving each family that needs help relocating a sum of money so they can do just that. While we know Lucas would prefer this be done as a gift, we also know that the people of this valley have their pride and would prefer it as a loan. No interest, of course."

Jenny's eyes welled up as she listened to the plan her parents had come up with. "Lucas would be so happy if he knew," she said through her tears as she wiped her cheeks.

"Please don't think that we have given up on finding our beloved Lucas. Nothing is further from the truth," Helen added. "But the need is right now, and we can't wait to make this decision. Even after we have divvied out what is required, Lucas remains a millionaire. And we won't touch the rest until we know what has happened to him."

A nod was the only answer that Jenny could muster at this wonderful news. If Lucas were here, he would be doing what her parents were. Money was only important to her brother for how he could help others, not to uplift himself.

"While we are on the subject of moving, have you thought about where you and the children will go?" Helen asked. "Gustave has been hired by the top restaurant in the Montreal area as lead chef, so he will be living nearby. Your father and I would love it if you decided to come with us also. We could get to know our grandchildren better."

Helen's words were gentle, and yet Jenny bristled a little. She had moved so much in her life and hated that once more, she must leave the place that she considered home. But there wasn't much of a choice. Hope Valley was no more. The only decision she still had to make was where to go.

"I think I will go downstairs and have some of those cookies I have heard so much about," Jenny replied as she headed out the door.

"Are you going to come out here or not?" Sam asked his roommate as he and Tilly waited for Lucas to exit the small single restroom they used as a dressing room at the library.

"Have patience, my man. If I'm going to play a character as iconic as Gilbert Blythe, it takes time to look the part."

Tilly laughed. "I'm quite certain that Gilbert didn't have a mustache and beard."

"Well, he's going to have one today," Lucas replied, finally opening the door and poking his head outside. "You wouldn't want me getting pulled onto the school bus and shipped who knows where, now would you, 'Carrots?'"

Tilly laughed, then rolled her eyes, pushing Lucas's newsboy cap down further on his head. "Come on, 'Gil,' we're on in five minutes."

"Then I'll just take three," he replied, returning to the room and shutting the door.

"Ly! Come on, now!" Sam said. "I swear he takes more time in the bathroom."

"Good to know," Tilly replied, suddenly looking a bit reflective.

Sam furrowed his brow. "How are things going? I mean, between you and Ly."

Tilly shrugged. "Alright, I suppose." She looked at the door and then leaned forward. "To tell you the truth, he's been a bit distant the past week, almost like he's avoiding getting close to me."

"Huh," Sam frowned. "Nothing happened, did it?"

"Not that I'm aware of. He's been very quiet, though, so I'm not sure."

"Well, he hasn't been sleeping well. He's been tossing and turning and mumbling in his sleep. Woke up in a cold sweat last night, but when I asked him what he dreamed about, he shrugged and said he had no idea. One of those things where it's so real, and then it's just poof – it's gone."

Tilly lowered her eyes. "I hate to hear that."

"Ready or not, here I come," Lucas's voice called out from inside the restroom. The door opened, and Bouchard stepped outside dressed in the perfect Edwardian Boy's cap, shirt, and knickers. Tilly covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

"You have the longest legs I've ever seen," she said, reviewing the man's well-proportioned frame.

"Yeah. He looks like a stork," Sam joked.

Lucas looked down, feeling self-conscious, until Tilly took Lucas's cap off and hit Sam with it. "Just stop with your jealous remarks! He's the most handsome Gilbert Blythe to have hit the stage….or at least the library floor."

Bouchard looked up at her with a bashful smile. "Thank you," he said softly.

Tilly reached up and touched his face. "I'm just speaking the truth."

Immediately, Lucas looked toward her and then back up again, reaching up and taking her hand. "It's time to go. Shall we?"

After story hour, the three friends changed out of their costumes and agreed to go to lunch together at Wennings' Restaurant on 45th Street, where food was self-serve and quite reasonably priced. Entering the building, they each took a plate and began to fill it up. The owner generally winced when he saw them coming, knowing that Sam would raid the buffet, pilling enough food for three people on top of his plate. Lucas typically ate enough for the average man, and Tilly would eat a scant amount in comparison. But on this particular day, the pattern was different. Oh, Sam certainly filled his plate and then some. But Lucas's looked somewhat empty. Tilly wondered If he wasn't feeling well as he had been quiet ever since the reading hour was over, but when she took her seat with a seat beside her, and Lucas deliberately sat away from her, she truly became concerned. As he stared at his plate, deep in thought, she finally spoke up.

"Lionel, have I done something to offend you?" she asked after more than a minute of silence between the pair.

Lucas raised his eyes, nonplussed at her question. He stared at her for a moment, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Not at all. Why would you….?"

"You've been rather distant the past week, and you've stopped talking."

He wrinkled his forehead. "We talk."

She shook her head. "Not like we did before."

"Well, we've only known one another a short time. I…."

"Excuse me," Tilly said, standing up from her seat and making her way to the bathroom.

Lucas looked back down at his plate, and Sam picked up a piece of toast and threw it at him.

"What did I do?" Lucas asked, looking at Sam for help.

"What is wrong with you!" Sam chided. "She was reaching out to you, clearly upset."

"At me?" Lucas asked.

"No, at Rumpelstiltskin, nitwit. Yes! At you! What do you suddenly have against Tilly?"

"I don't have anything against Tilly. Quite the contrary. In fact, I like her very much."

"Well, you sure have a way of showing it."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Sam said mockingly. "If you sat any further away, you'd be sittin' in that guy's lap.

A man turned and looked at the two men with one eyebrow raised.

Lucas turned around. "He's using hyperbole."

"Hyperb…."

"…bole. It's a figure of speech in which exaggeration is utilized in order to illustrate a broader point."

The man squinted his eyes and again looked between the two men.

"I wouldn't actually…." Lucas said. "Oh, never mind."

"Hey, Noah Webster. Turn around," Sam said, drawing him back to the conversation.

Lucas turned his head back toward Sam, and the man went back to eating.

"You have been acting all weird-er lately, and you need to stop. That girl is a sweet girl. Quality dame."

"Don't call her that," Lucas said, offended at his friend's use of slang.

Sam smiled. "You like her."

Lucas frowned, again looking toward his plate. "Of course I do. She's a kind, generous."

"Uh-huh, see…"

"It's complicated, Sam…"

Sam reached forward and grabbed the piece of toast he'd thrown at Lucas from Bouchard's plate, taking a bite of the toast and then dragging it a second time through Lucas's gravy. He took another bite and then picked up his plate. He looked up, seeing Tilly coming out of the bathroom, then leaned into where Bouchard's face was inches from his own. "Fix it."

Jenny stepped out of the Queen of Hearts onto the street and turned toward the stables, intending to take a ride. Riding horses and being out in nature always had a way of clarifying her thoughts and easing her mind. But as she smelled the lingering smoke in the air and watched as another automobile laden with trunks full of items representing everything that family owned pull out of town, she knew this ride had the potential for doing neither. If only her brother were here.

Lucas had a way about him in that he could listen to any conundrum that Jenny might have and dispassionately point her toward a solution. He never pushed his own solution on her, but somehow, hearing his logic would help her to find it herself. What would you say to me now? She thought.

Talk to him.

The thought immediately came as she looked up at the Mountie office.

If you are in doubt about something, it's best not to procrastinate fearing an answer, but getting the answer yourself if possible so that you do not waste time. Lucas had spoken those words to her when she was worried about whether or not Nan was happy with their move to Hope Valley. She knew her children's grandmother would want to stay close to Luke and Jo, but there were few people in Hope Valley around Lydia's age with whom she could commiserate, and she had seemed very quiet. It turned out that Lydia wasn't worried about the move at all but rather had years of suffering on her mind. She didn't know how to behave in that environment, in an environment in which she was safe. That all went away when Molly and Florence took her under their wing and began to invite her to town events and meet-ups. In fact, she'd made some friends – a privilege she hadn't been afforded for over three decades of being married to Solomon. And now, all of that would be gone. They would all go their separate ways, and Nan would once again be alone. She seemed to realize that when Jenny called her on the phone in Northern Ohio, where she was visiting with a niece, to tell her about the results of the fire. "He giveth, and He takes away," was all she said. Lydia Drake had lost a lot in her life, and Jenny supposed her expectations were low going in. But she wanted happiness for her foster mother. She wanted it for them all.

Jenny stepped up onto the porch of the Mountie office and tapped her knuckles twice on Nathan's door before entering. The Mountie turned his head and smiled slightly when he saw her.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he said, sorting through some papers as he stood in front of his desk.

"I wanted to come see you," she said. "I was wondering if you might want to take a ride."

Grant walked over to her and gave her a kiss then stepped backward. "Funny you should mention that. I was about to take a ride up to the ridge that Lucas used to frequent. It's a good place to survey the damage."

"Would you mind if I went with you?"

Nathan smiled. "I wouldn't mind. In fact, I could use the company."

Another knock came on the Mountie office door as Kurt Lawson stepped into the room. "Hey, Nathan. You got a minute?"

"Sure," the Mountie said, stepping away from Bouchard and leaving her standing by his desk.

Jenny looked down and saw the morning paper with its HOPE GONE headline and shook her head. There were never truer words spoken. In a matter of months, she had found her brother, a home to raise her children, and a man to love, and now…? Next to the newspaper, she spotted the telegram. She looked back toward Nathan, who was deep in conversation with Lawson, and turned it around. Reading it, her heart became even more conflicted.

"Whatcha doing?" Nathan said casually, seeing her with his telegram in her hand.

"I didn't mean to snoop. I promise," she said.

"That's okay. I have no secrets."

Jenny nodded. "Is it a good role?"

Nathan walked across the room. "It's an okay role, but it's what it can lead to that is attractive. I have no real desire to live out in Timbuktu, but give it two or three years, and it could land me in Union City or even Edmonton in a role I've always wanted."

"I see," she said softly.

Nathan, sensing her discomfort with the prospect, tried to assuage her concerns. "I haven't accepted yet," he said. "There's a lot to consider. You know, Allie…and things."

Jenny looked up at him and smiled a smile that didn't quite go to her eyes. "Yes, there are certainly a lot of things to consider. Shall we go?"

"Sure," Nathan said, unsure of how to interpret her response and afraid to ask.

When Tilly approached the table, Lucas stood up in her presence. He immediately noted that her eyes were a little red and her face a little blotchy, and he felt terrible.

Tilly stopped as she neared the table, looking for Sam, who was now arguing with the establishment owner about providing a doggy bag for his meal.

"He needed to go," Lucas said. "So, it's just you and me."

Tilly lowered her eyes. "I can go too if you like."

Lucas reached out and took her hand. "I wouldn't like," he said softly. "Please, sit with me."

With a hint of apprehension, Tilly took her seat, placing her napkin back into her lap and looking down at her plate. Lucas sat down as well.

Lucas picked up his fork and began absentmindedly stirring his food in silence, formulating his thoughts. After several long moments, he and Tilly began to speak at the same time and then chuckled at one another.

"You first," she said.

"No, please…." he replied.

She shook her head. "You first."

Lucas nodded and took a deep breath. "I was going to say, I believe I owe you an apology."

"Apology?"

"It seems I may have given you the wrong impression…."

Tilly lowered her head, "Really?"

"Yes. I know that I have been a bit distant the past week and have had a lot on my mind. I never intended to ignore you or make you feel uncomfortable. It's just….Tilly, I sense that there is a closeness that has been developing between us, and while I like you very much…."

"You don't like me in that way," she finished, eyes glistening.

Lucas looked at her and shook his head. "It's not even that."

Tilly turned and looked out the window. "It's okay, Lionel. If you don't feel that way, you don't feel that way. It shouldn't affect our relationship."

"Tilly."

"You just want to be friends."

"For now."

She shrugged. "What does that mean? I mean, if you aren't feeling what I have felt, then time isn't going to make a difference."

"But I do," Lucas replied. Tilley tilted her head. "It's just….I am not ready for a relationship like that with you," he continued. "At least not yet."

"Don't play with me, Lionel. I've had too many people in my life give me the hope of this or that happening – not necessarily in romance, but yes, also in romance. Why Michael made it a career of promising and not delivering…."

"Which is why I backed away," Lucas replied. "I am not Michael, and I can assure you if I decide to pursue you in a capacity other than friend, I will do so with noble intentions. It's just I'm going through some things right now, things I can't discuss but which are not about you – at least directly."

He looked at her squarely in the eyes and took both of her hands. "Tilly, I like you very much, and yes, I have felt a draw in a certain direction, but I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to be hurt, so I'm trying to protect us. I'm sorry if that came off as not caring or as if you had done something wrong to offend me. That is the furthest thing from the truth. I simply have a lot on my mind I'm trying to work through, things causing me to lose sleep."

"Because of the nightmares?"

Lucas squinted. "Did Sam tell you about those?"

"He's just trying to help."

Lucas looked toward the area where Sam had been standing, only to find him gone. "Sam needs to mind his own business."

Now Tilly took Lucas by the hands. "Because he cares – as do I. Lionel, you hold so much inside and share almost nothing – and that's not good. Now, whatever is going on, you can trust me – you can trust us – to help carry that burden. You can talk to us."

Lucas paused for a moment. How on earth could he tell her that the reason he backed away was because he was concerned that he might be married to a wife whose face and name he could not remember? He didn't even understand it himself. He smiled softly. "I appreciate the offer," he said. "And I do trust you – truly. But for now, I need to deal with it on my own."

Tilly again looked down. "I understand."

Liar, Lucas thought.

"I would very much like to remain your friend," he said. "If you'll still have me."

Tilly chuckled, then shrugged. "I suppose I can do that."

Lucas scrunched his face together and pursed out his lips. "It would be a great sacrifice."

She chuckled and then looked at him coyly. "I believe I am up for the task."

Lucas grinned, then nodded. "If anyone is, I am confident that you are the one. Thank you for your patience."

After lunch, Lucas and Tilly took another walk through Central Park, and he began to open up a little bit to her about how he was feeling.

"I've been thinking about quitting my job at Delmonico's," he said, almost nonchalantly but expecting that Tilly would be surprised. Instead, she didn't blink.

"What do you think you'd like to do?"

He paused a moment. "I'm not sure. I've been watching the stock market and think I might be good at that, you know, explore the business side of things. And don't get me wrong, it's not that making cocktails at the restaurant isn't interesting. Meeting new people and hearing their stories always is. It's just, I guess I want…."

"More?" she asked.

He stopped. "Yes. You knew that?"

"From the moment I met you," she said. "Or at least from the moment, I knew what you were doing in life. Lionel, you are smart and resourceful and have so much more to give than to be sequestered after hours behind some restaurant bar or acting a fool for the children."

"Literature is important," he said.

"Yes, it is -but so is living. You are the kind of man who will leave a legacy. But it's up to you to determine where that legacy will be."

Lucas smiled, then reached over toward her, placing his hand gently on her upper back as they walked. "Thank you for your confidence."

She looked up at him and smiled, then wrapped her arm around his waist, and he placed his hand around her shoulder. "What do you say we take in another movie before you go to work tonight?"

Bouchard raised his eyebrows. "Sure. Anything you have in mind?"

"I've heard that a new film called The Penalty is playing at the Regency. They said the actor, Lon Chaney, actually strapped his calves to the back of his thighs and walked on his knees to play a double amputee. The doctors warned him against doing so."

"That sounds….painful."

"Apparently, it was," she responded. "He did some damage to his muscles, they say, but they commended him on his performance."

"Well, that sounds worth a watch," Bouchard replied.

"Let's go!"

As she paced the floor in her room, Jenny could almost hear Lucas's voice speaking to her. "You're going to wear a hole in that rug." The thought at least made her smile a bit, even in her worrisome frame of mind.

What was she to do about Nathan?

He had this wonderful job opportunity in front of him, but it would be out of reach possibly for three years. Holding him back wasn't an option, and yet, Jenny was now sure she loved him. The question was- did he love her in return? Nathan had been somewhat distant since Elizabeth's death and even more so since the fire. Was it because he still had feelings for the deceased schoolteacher? Did she even have hope of a future relationship with him?

What to do?

The kids were out and about with Helen and Martin and Jenny had the afternoon off, so she had time to go visit someone that just might be able to give her some advice.

Entering the café, Jenny took a seat at a corner table. The room was mostly empty since the dinner crowd hadn't started yet, and Minnie smiled brightly at her as she approached.

"It's nice to see you, Jenny. Can I get you a piece of apple pie?"

"Oh yes, that sounds lovely, Minnie. With a cup of tea. And would you happen to have a moment to join me?"

"I don't mind if I do. I'll be right back," Minnie said with a wink as she turned back to the kitchen, soon returning with two pieces of pie. "I'll just grab the tea," she said, and momentarily, she was seated across from her newest friend.

"This pie is tasty," Jenny said as she swallowed her first bite.

"Thank you. It's my mother's recipe. But I don't think you came here to talk about my pie."

Nodding in silence, Jenny laid her fork down on the table and cleared her throat. "I didn't. I have a problem, and I just don't know what to do."

The urgency in her voice caused Minnie to furrow her brow. "It sounds serious. Please let me help."

For the next few minutes, Jenny poured her troubles out on the pastor's wife's shoulder. When she was finished with the telling, Minnie reached over and took her hand. "May I tell you a story?"

"Please," Jenny said as she took a deep breath, trying to stall her tears from falling.

"When I was just a little girl, God showed me that I was going to become a preacher's wife and then low and behold, this kindhearted, handsome stranger with a sweet smile moved into a home nearby. As I neared adulthood, he got the call to become a preacher, which was confirmation to me that he was the one. I could see myself by his side as a pastor's wife and grew excited at the prospect of reaching the lost with him. He asked me to join him in Bible study, which I gladly did. It took a little while for my parents to accept him because he was a few years older than me. But, as we spent time together, my heart truly fell in love with him. Eventually, my parents accepted him and, knowing his proposal would happen soon, began getting my trousseau together.

One day, the young man came to my door to tell me he was soon leaving the country. He said he felt the need to go to Africa and minister to the lost over there. You see, I had never asked him, but missionary work was where his heart was.

Although I was surprised at this turn of events, I thought he had come to ask me to go with him, and I was prepared to do that. I even had the scripture from Ruth ready to reply to him when he finally proposed."

As Minnie paused in her story, Jenny smiled as she thought of the verse mentioned where Ruth was speaking to her mother-in-law in chapter 1. "Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."

"So, how did he propose?"

A soft smile was Minnie's answer. "He never did. He left town a week later."

A confused look crossed Jenny's face. "How long was he overseas? How long did it take for Mr. Canfield to realize he wanted to marry you and to come back?"

"I think you may have misunderstood. The young man was not Joseph Canfield. His name was John, and I never saw him again."

"Oh, Minnie..." The story didn't have the happy ending that Jenny had thought it would. And yet, Minnie and Joseph were obviously in love. "When did you meet your husband?"

"The Canfields moved into the house that John had vacated, and Joseph tried his best to get my attention, but I wasn't interested- you see, my heart was still hurting as I held onto the hope of John's return for me. But Joseph's persistence paid off a couple of years later when I released John and realized that God was preparing me to be a pastor's wife as I always planned and not a missionary. Once my heart healed, I fell more deeply in love than I ever thought possible. We married a short time later."

"I'm so happy you found each other. But I'm a little perplexed about your story and my situation. Are you saying that I may never see Nathan again if he leaves and someone else is out there for me?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. I can see you care for Nathan, and I believe he cares for you as well. But with this offer, he may be torn and must figure out what he really wants. John didn't have a problem deciding to leave because his feelings for me were only in my mind, not in his heart. To him, we were only friends.

My advice is to let Nathan work it out. Things have been chaotic around here for a while, and he may just need some time to think things through. If he does decide to leave, only God knows what the future holds for the two of you. But know this: God has plans for you. Good plans to give you a hope and a future."

The words struck their mark, and Jenny relaxed. God already had plans for her future. Whether Nathan was part of those plans or not remained to be seen, but it was good to be reminded that God had her and wanted the best for her, even if it wasn't Nathan.

"Thank you, Minnie. I appreciate the talk and the advice," Jenny said with a smile as she stood. "But I mostly appreciate the pie," she teased as she touched Minnie's arm. "See you soon."

Joseph exited the kitchen as Jenny walked out the door. "Everything alright, wife?" he asked as he put his arm around her waist.

"I think everything will be fine, husband. Now, we better get to work on dinner."

Walking back to the hotel, Jenny had a different mindset than when she left it. When she opened the door to her room, she was pleased to find everyone was there.

"Mother, Father, I've made a decision," she announced. "Luke, Jo, this concerns you also." All eyes were on her as she stood there. This was her family. All of it besides Lucas and Nan. And as much as she loved Nathan, he had his own choice to make. But she had her children to consider.

Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke. "We are moving to Montreal."

Due to the sensationalism concerning Chaney's role, Lucas and Tilly thought the theater would be overly crowded; however, given it was a weekday matinee, the room was less than half full. As such, the two had their pick of seating. All was well until about four minutes into the film, and the scene changed to San Francisco, a town Lucas had spent a good amount of time in. Almost immediately, he felt a sense of recollection as scenes from his past flashed briefly in his mind. He took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, trying to refocus on the movie screen rather than yet another series of memories that would leave him sleepless at night.

Tilly noticed him shift in his seat but didn't pay much attention to it until a minute later when she heard him take a deep breath as a dance hall with a cabaret dancer on the stage filled the screen. Lucas closed his eyes as a vision of the Silver Dollar Saloon made its way into his head. As the actors on the screen clamored around a bar, he recalled the bar in New Orleans, including a number of women of ill repute with whom he would never associate. The images became stronger and then briefly dissipated until a woman on screen had an altercation with a thief who grabbed hold of her on the balcony. He saw in his mind the balcony at the old saloon in one-second flashes as he peered over it toward the floor. With the actors on the screen, he had brief flashes of a man, whom he knew, tormenting a woman with long hair whose face he could not see. As if out of his body, he saw himself standing on the balcony planning a rescue, and then as the unfortunate woman on the screen was stabbed and fell to the ground, he saw a brief shadow of the woman falling and her hand hitting the floor. It was at that moment that Lucas leaned forward in his seat, his respiration becoming quite labored.

"Lionel?" Tilly asked, concerned.

"I need to go," he replied, getting up from his seat and rushing out of the theater without looking back.

Tilly grabbed her purse and Lucas's jacket, which he had removed and laid across the adjacent seat, then ran out the doors, looking to the left and right to see where he had gone. She stood still, not recognizing his form anywhere, and had lost sight of him until she heard his labored breathing from around the corner. Quickly making her way toward the sound, she rounded the building's edge and then gasped when she saw this man whom she knew she was falling for, leaning against the outside wall of the building with his knees to his chest, pale, shaking, and laboring for air.

"Lionel!"

Dropping everything, she hurried to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and back even as he struggled for air. She immediately knew what was going on with him because it was something she had experienced herself back in 1918 when her entire world changed.

"It's okay, Lionel. Just try to calm down," she said as she held him closely. She could hear his heart pounding at an abnormal rate and immediately sought to settle him. "Focus on me. I've got you. Just feel my arms around you. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

For Lucas, this was a strange sensation, not only having Tilly's arms wrapped around him but having someone comfort him at all. Of course, he could not yet connect that past with how he felt at the moment, but just being that it was happening was an immediate relief to him in a way that he had never experienced. Nevertheless, it was a full ten minutes before he felt enough relief to where he could talk to Tilly at all.

"I…I apologize," he rasped.

She continued to hold him, her hands squeezing and caressing his upper arm even as she kissed the side of his head. "No. You do not need to apologize. It's okay. I just want you to be okay."

"I…I don't know what happened in there. Everything was fine, and then I started seeing things…brief moments flashing across my mind…I….I felt this tightness in my chest and in my throat and….then when she was killed," he said, still shaking as tears began building in his eyes, "I had to leave….I feel…I feel such loss." He started to weep, burying his face against Tilly's neck.

She held him closely, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead as she tried to comfort her troubled friend. "Did you…did you lose someone?" she asked.

Lucas shook his head. "I don't know. I…I don't know."

Rocking him in her arms, shushing him, and eventually humming a tune that her mother used to hum to her when she was upset -her voice was like a nightingale's and, again, was a new experience for Bouchard, who felt a warmth and, yes, a love that he never had before. A short while later, he quietened again, and Tilly held him for several moments longer before suggesting they leave.

"I think we should get you home. You need to rest, call off work."

"But they're expecting me…."

"Taking care of yourself is more important than anything like that. You are more important. Let me walk you home. I'll make you some tea."

Lucas began to stand. "But, Mrs. Breckinridge."

"I will handle Mrs. Breckinridge. Trust me."

The gathering was only about half the number of the last one. As Lee looked around, he saw despair where there used to be hope in the eyes of his neighbors. There was no need to silence the crowd as everyone's worries kept them from speaking. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he began the meeting.

"It's good to see everyone today. I have some news to share, and I'm not quite sure how to say it, so here goes. As we were greatly impacted by the drought and the fire, Coulter Lumber has now unfortunately had to close for business."

"For how long?" one of the women in the crowd asked.

"Unfortunately, it's permanent," Lee replied. "The lumber we harvested from was of such a quantity and the cost of bringing it in from further away so cost prohibitive, we just can't keep the doors open. I'm sorry."

Most were quiet after the announcement, and Lee saw a few wiping away tears as the realization hit them that Hope Valley would not recover from this. His heart hurt for these people that he called friends.

"But what will we do now?"

The question came from Mr. Moss, sitting in the front row next to his wife. They were a young couple that had only recently moved to Hope Valley shortly before the fire. He recalled they had spent all of their savings to buy a small farm in the area. Lee knew that most of the people in the room had the same question.

"Mr. Mayor, may I speak?"

Looking over, Lee saw Martin Bouchard stand to his feet.

"Mr. Bouchard, you have the floor."

"I believe I know everyone here, so there is no need to introduce myself. I had never heard of Hope Valley until my son moved here." At the mention of Lucas, his voice broke, but he quickly recovered. "Being a big city man, I didn't understand his love for this place and its people until I came here a few months ago and met all of you myself.

Hope Valley is unlike anywhere else I have lived. The people here aren't just friends but have become a family. This town would be like any other without its residents. All of you are what makes this such a special place.

I mentioned Lucas. As you all know, he has vanished, and we don't know where he might have ended up. Before he left on his trip to New Orleans, he gave his me, and Mrs. Bouchard control over his holdings. Because of his love for you, we have decided that he would want us to use his assets to help the citizens of this town in their time of need."

Whispers began throughout the room as everyone wondered what Martin would say next.

"I have funds for every family that needs to relocate. This is a no-interest loan with very lenient terms. However, should repayment be a hardship, please come and speak with me personally."

The murmurs grew louder, and Mr. Moss spoke once again.

"What about when Mr. Bouchard returns and finds out his money was given away?"

"Lucas has been so good to this community. We can't be the reason he comes back to nothing," someone said from the middle of the room.

Their love for his son was apparent, and Martin struggled to get his emotions under control. He was surprised when Helen stood to her feet.

"I don't think you all know Lucas as well as you believe you do if you are worried about that. Although he has been very successful in business, Lucas doesn't love money. Lucas loves people. And if he were to come back tomorrow and find out we refused to assist all of you when we had the means to, he would be quite upset. Angry even.

The proof is in the letter he gave to us before leaving. He instructed us to support the people of this valley if anything happened to him. Right now, we don't know his location, and the need is immediate. But if you are concerned about his finances, don't be. Lucas will still be a very wealthy man after we distribute relief to everyone."

Martin's eyes welled as he listened to his wife's words. She had recovered well from her frailty over the disappearance of their son, and he was proud of her speech on his behalf.

"Mike is set up across the room and ready to disperse the money you need. God bless you all." Martin walked over and wrapped his arms around Helen as the townspeople quietly formed a line at the bar. "I'm proud of you," he whispered in her ear. "Lucas would be, too."

"I'm going to go relieve Jenny with the kids so she can get back to work," Helen replied as she reached up and lovingly patted his cheek.

"Mr. Bouchard."

Martin had been watching his wife ascend the stairs when Nathan spoke to him. "Yes, Constable. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to say thank you- on behalf of the town. This is a very generous thing you are doing."

"Nothing that our son wouldn't do if he were here, I assure you."

"Yes. I am aware of Lucas's generosity. He helped me out a few years ago when I had nowhere else to turn."

"That doesn't surprise me. I only hope he shows up soon. Of course, after we all leave, he will know where to find us in Montreal."

"All?" The use of the word was alarming.

"Yes. Jenny and the kids have decided to move to Montreal to be near us."

Nathan's eyes widened. She hadn't mentioned a word. "I... I didn't know."

"I thought she would have told you. It sounds like you need to have a talk."

"Uh... yes. I guess we do," Nathan replied as he turned to leave the building.

Later that evening, Sam slipped his key into the door and then entered his apartment, only to find Lucas sleeping quietly on the couch, with Tilly sitting on the floor next to him, her fingers gently caressing his temples. She looked up at him when he stepped into the room.

Confused, Sam motioned with his finger. "What are you….?"

"Shhhh…." she responded quietly. "He's resting."

"You'd better get out of here. If Mrs. B finds out you're up here…."

"She already knows. She permitted me to stay with him."

Sam looked at her questioningly, so she continued. "He had an episode while we were out."

A concerned Sam moved over beside them. "Episode? What kind of episode."

Tilly shook her head. "An emotional episode. We were watching a movie, and he became…overwhelmed and had to leave."

"A breakdown?"

Tilly shook her head. "No. It was not that severe, but he saw something, I believe. Something triggered an emotional response, and he became overwhelmed."

"He okay now?"

She nodded. "He is much calmer now. I made him some tea and got him a pillow and blanket."

Sam smiled. "Sounds like you two made up."

She nodded. "I don't know what he's going through right now, but it worries me. After today, I think something traumatic has happened in his life that he won't share."

"I can't." Lucas's quiet voice whispered from behind her, and she reached up and touched his cheek.

"Hi," she said. "Are you feeling better?"

Lucas shook his head no. "I wish I knew why this is happening."

"Why you became overwhelmed?" she asked.

"Why, anything…" he replied. "I can't make it make sense."

Sam pulled up a chair, and Tilly got up from the floor as Lucas sat up on the couch, looking toward the floor as his mind whirled about him.

Tilly put her hand on his shoulder while he sat there.

"Maybe if you told us what happened, we could help?" Sam offered.

"That's just the thing," Lucas said. "I can't. I can't tell you any of it."

Tilly tilted her head. "You don't trust us?"

"No!" Bouchard replied, looking around in frustration. "It's not that at all. I trust both of you implicitly; I can't….because I can't. I…I don't remember."

"You don't remember what happened to you?" Sam asked.

Lucas shook his head. "I don't remember what happened…I don't remember anything."

Tilly squinted her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand."

Lucas took a breath, then ran both of his hands through his hair before sitting back on the couch. He looked at the ceiling, trying to formulate what he would say, if he should say it, if he should let them in. Would they think he was insane? Was he? He had to obtain some relief.

He took another breath. "I have a confession to make. I'm not who I have said I am."

Tilly considered his words, then withdrew her hand, waiting for him to finish.

"My name…my name is not Lionel Berrymore," he continued.

Sam chuckled. "You don't say," he replied with a smirk, looking towards Tilly.

"Okay," she said. "What is it?"

Lucas was quiet for a few seconds, then he looked at her, shaking his head. He shrugged. "I don't know."

Both Tilly and Sam narrowed their eyes.

"You don't know your name?" Sam asked.

"No," Bouchard replied. "Nor where I'm from, nor who my parents are, nor…." He looked again. "Nor whether or not I have any attachments."

His words were unmistakable, and while they built a certain fear within her, they also provided immediate clarity as to his distant behavior.

"Are you saying you suffer from amnesia?" she asked.

Lucas looked down, then back into her eyes, and shook his head yes.

"Whoa," Sam responded. "How did this…. never mind. You just said you don't remember."

"I don't. I have no idea how it happened, when it happened, or why it happened. All I remember is waking up on a park bench over by the fountain in Central Park last June. I was a little roughed up, but not too bad. I believe I was robbed."

"Do you think maybe you hit your head?" Sam asked.

"I felt no sort of injury," Lucas replied. "I just felt….it's strange to describe…it was like I was floating in a dream. I felt like perhaps I was dreaming. And so, I got up and began walking. I felt for a wallet but didn't have one, and what looked like what was left of a watch chain was dangling from my vest."

"Someone stole your watch," Tilly said as a matter of statement.

Lucas nodded. "But they didn't get my cufflinks." He raised his wrist to show her some simple silver cufflinks that she'd noticed he wore all the time. "And they have some initials on them."

"Let me guess, "Sam said. "L.B?"

Lucas nodded. Someone on 5th Avenue asked me my name, a street minister, I believe, and I didn't know. So I looked around, and the first name I saw was on a marquis and matched those initials.

"Thus, Lionel Berrymore was born," Tilly replied. "Oh my goodness, no wonder you seemed so evasive."

"I wasn't trying to evade you – at least not directly. I was afraid of letting you know because, well…you might have thought me insane. Sometimes I wonder myself."

Sam shook his head. "No. No, I have heard of this -the guys coming back from the war. Some of them had this."

"Yes, they have," Tilly agreed. "My brother, Annie's father, was injured in the war and spent some time in the hospital. There were many men there who had this sort of break due to the traumatic events they'd seen. The doctors called it dissociation…or dissociative amnesia."

"You weren't in the war, were you?" Sam asked.

Lucas shrugged. "I don't believe so, but who's to say?"

"You're a little older than most of the enlistees, but not too old," Tilly responded. "I….I may know some people who could help us find out."

Lucas shook his head. "If I am to be honest, I'm actually somewhat afraid of what we might find. What if I've done terrible things? What if I'm a bad man?"

Tilly reached over and took his hand, and Sam moved closer to him.

"Impossible," she responded. "You are the gentlest, kindest, most loving man I've ever met. And you have nothing to be afraid of. We will help you, and we will be here with you through it all, no matter what."

Jenny had just finished balancing the ledgers when Nathan entered Lucas's offices without knocking.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, his face not quite angry but clearly upset.

Jenny stood. "Lower your voice! The patrons can hear you."

"So what? In two weeks, there won't be any patrons anymore. This whole town will be cleared out. So, I repeat myself, WHY didn't you tell me?"

The two had never really fought, and she was not appreciative of his aggressive manner. "Tell you what?" she asked, her eyes becoming steely. She'd stood up to David Drake and even to Solomon. She wasn't about to cower to the Mountie.

"That you were leaving…going to Montreal with your parents. You knew before we took that ride, and yet you didn't say a word," Nathan responded. His voice softened. "I thought I meant something to you."

Jenny noticed the sadness in Grant's eyes, and her initial wall of defense began to crumble. "I hadn't decided yet," she responded. "I wanted to talk with you first."

"But you didn't talk to me," he said. "You kept it hidden. Why?"

Jenny walked over to her brother's bookcase, now half empty due to items being placed in crates for storage for whenever he might return. Even barren as it was, it spoke of a life well lived. "I decided not to tell you because I did not want to influence your decision to take the promotion."

"What?"

"You said yourself it is a wonderful opportunity, maybe not immediately, but in two or three years – you'll have everything you ever wanted. I can't step in the way with that. And truthfully, the idea of taking my children somewhere that they will be isolated from society, it's not something I can support. I want them to have friends – to know people – to have neighbors they can count on. This is no longer just about me, but as their only parent, I have to do what's best for them, too."

Nathan couldn't argue with her logic, though his heart burned inside to do so. "So, you have decided."

"Yes," she replied. "And this doesn't mean that I don't care for you. I do."

Grant felt a lump grow in his throat at those words but was mute to speak.

"It's just this may be what's best for all of us." she continued. "I can't stand in your way, and it appears our paths are diverging. I'm sorry, Nathan. I really am."

Grant returned to his office, his heart completely broken. How could it be he was on the verge of getting everything he ever worked for and losing what he believed he actually wanted? He shook his head as he took his seat.

Reaching for the phone, he was about to call Allie to let her know he was on his way when he saw a note in Florence's writing informing him that the Pinkerton from New Orleans had called and wanted to speak with him. Maybe they've found Lucas, Grant thought.

Dialing the number the man had left, Grant waited for the connection and considered the thought that even if he didn't end up with Jenny, his heart of hearts wanted her to be happy. Since finding Lucas would make her very happy, he felt a certain excitement about the call.

"Hello, Constable Grant?"

Nathan's thoughts were jolted back to the moment and to what the phone call was all about.

"Please tell me you've found Lucas."

Inspector Adam Perry leaned back in his chair, nodding to his wife in gratitude as she brought him a cup of tea. "I wish I could. New York is a very large city, but I wanted to let you know I have teams in each of its boroughs. They are passing out fliers with his image on them and asking around, that sort of thing. So far, no John Does have shown up in hospitals or asylums that match his description."

Grant hadn't even considered that Lucas could be in an asylum, a thought he found disturbing and strengthened his resolve to locate him. "So, in that case, no news is good news?" he proffered.

The inspector set down his teacup. "I'm not going to lie to you, Constable. Going to New York was about the worst place he could have gone. Finding one man in a city of 5.6 million truly is like looking for a needle in a haystack. But my detectives are second to none, and I give them free license to do whatever they need to do to get their man. Nine times out of ten, they are successful."

"Should have stuck with the Mounties," Nathan said.

"What do you mean?"

"We always get our man," he responded.

Perry laughed. "Most of the time, you do. But for those times you can't, it's nice to not have the bureaucracy around telling you, no, you have to go by the rule book. Some situations don't adhere to the rules."

"Is that why you left us?" Nathan asked. "You wanted to color outside the lines?"

Perry smiled. "No. That wasn't it at all."

"Why, then?"

"Simple reason. I fell in love.

I was once a man like, I'm sure you once were, young, ambitious, ready to right every wrong – but as I'm sure you're aware, sometimes wrongs don't get righted, but we do our best. It's at those times when we have to learn to reevaluate where we stand in life and what our goals and desires are. Artemisia came into my life at precisely one of those moments, and she showed me that what I really wanted was not an endless string of chasing after bad guys and filling out paperwork but something more – something the Mounties couldn't provide. And, while I know the Pinkertons often have a bad reputation, not always unjustly so, becoming a Pinkerton afforded me the opportunity to have my cake and eat it too. I still do what is essentially police work, chase train and bank robbers, and find missing persons. But it's given me the ability to have a family, and that's something I'll never regret."

Grant listened closely, feeling now more than ever a conflict within his spirit.

"You know you could always join us," Perry said.

That statement hit Grant in the gut. "Me? A Pinkerton? I'm pretty sure you'd live to regret that."

"Maybe not," Perry responded. "You never know until you try."

Nathan shook his head. "Yeah, well, I just got notice from Headquarters that there is a role for me in North Alberta. Good opportunity. I'm probably going to take it."

"Suit yourself," Perry replied. "If you ever change your mind, you have my number."

"I appreciate that," Nathan responded. "Let me know if you find out anything about Lucas."

"Oh, I will, Constable. After Martin, you'll be the first to know."