Chapter 8: The Rope

After Elizabeth's gasp and the sound of scuffing ropes, a hushed silence hung around Elizabeth's dangling figure, as if the very air held its breath. The usual sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls were conspicuously absent, replaced by a stillness that felt unnatural. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, anxious to discover how this city-born girl might react.

Other than the subtle swaying of the rope post-fall, Elizabeth hung motionless, stunned by the sudden loss of her footing. Over the muffled "woosh" of her heartbeat, pounding in her ears, she could only hear a single, circulating thought, What was Nathan thinking?!

Below, Nathan stood with his feet firmly planted, his body tense and focused, every muscle engaged. The rope, now taut and motionless, ran through his gloved hands, which gripped it tightly with a careful, steady pressure.

"Hey, you're doing great, sweetheart!" Nathan called up, trying to awaken Elizabeth from her disoriented daze. "Every climber slips. Just shake it off."

With his extensive experience training new recruits on similar rock walls, every word he'd uttered just now had been spoken dozens of times, meant to calm, encourage, and inspire. Well, with the exception of one—he'd never called any recruit "sweetheart."

Nathan's head had been in every climb, including this one. But never had his heart been so invested. Seeing her frozen worried him. His brow instantly furrowed as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple under the strain of holding her steady. He tightened his grip on the rope, grateful for the added friction of his gloves. Still, he could feel the biting tension in his brake hand.

"'Lizbeth, take a deep breath. I love you. You've got this." He quickly estimated the remaining distance to reach the top. "Only 10-12 feet to go, and you're done!"

Still, only silence. Nathan's heart squeezed in empathy, knowing all too well how crippling fear could be—and to Elizabeth, in particular. But, holding the rope in place for such an extended period of time was taking its toll.

Beyond a furrowed brow, the veins on Nathan's forehead and arms began surfacing one at a time, overburdened by the increased blood flow needed to manage her dangling body weight. Nathan softly groaned as he leaned back, trying to distribute the force. The connecting point of their ropes dug at his waist, a tangible reminder of his commitment to Elizabeth's safety.

In a strained voice, Nathan continued to send up encouraging words, desperately needing her to ease his load by re-engaging with the rock face. "I've got the firmest hold on this rope imaginable, 'Lizbeth! But I need you to find your footing, sweetheart. Please, just trust yourself, and me. We've got this."

While the pounding "woosh" of Elizabeth's racing heart still flooded her ears, her awareness soon spread to the rest of her body. She felt as if every muscle were shaking. The harness bit into her thighs. Despite the cold, mountain air, a few droplets of sweat dripped down her back.

Every one of Nathan's supportive words had been spoken with effort and loving intent as he fully bore Elizabeth's weight. But, for her, each additional word only fueled her rising fury. Hearing the exertion in his voice ironically did not stir sympathy or gratitude, but rather irritation. What was he thinking bringing her up here?! He should've known better!

Finally, from below, Nathan saw Elizabeth shift in the harness. Assuming she'd be reaching for the wall, he bellowed up directions, forcing himself to maintain his steady stance. His arms were burning now; but he reminded himself this was only temporary, and relief was imminent.

"Just to the right above your head, 'Lizbeth. The pocket and the sloper. Do you—"

"STOP!" Elizabeth yelled forcefully, incensed at his expectation for her to continue. "I am NOT climbing anymore."

"'Lizb—"

"Bring me down, Nathan!"

"Are y—"

"NOW!" she shouted, clearly furious.

Anger? Nathan had not expected that, nor had he anticipated her giving up so easily. He didn't understand. Was it a safety thing? He'd gone for the Swiss seat (the harness) wanting her to feel as safe as possible. And she's roped! To him! He wasn't just anyone, either. Climbing was a skill set integral to his profession; and not only was he proficient, but he was also experienced enough to train others in it!

There was obviously no sense in reasoning with her, though. So, reluctantly, Nathan obliged, transferring the strain of supporting her weight as he carefully lowered her toward the ground. In an unusual twist, the nearer Elizabeth came to him, the deeper his heart sank. He'd been so hopeful about this climb. Even worse, it was meant to be the foundation of their entire date.

And she was close! So close! Five minutes, tops. Still, he started to remind himself, the understanding trickling in, for Elizabeth, every pounding heartbeat was sending off adrenaline, perpetuating her fear that she'd actually been in danger. As he lowered her the final few feet, Nathan leaned into her viewpoint to ready himself to comfort her in the way she needed.

Instead of being the mess of tears he expected at the bottom, Elizabeth immediately spewed angry words at the very man who'd been her unwavering support, her literal lifeline.

"How could you think to do this, Nathan?!" she fired off, looking right into his eyes, her whole body trembling.

As Nathan instinctively reached for her hand, slippery with sweat, she pushed past him instead, marching over to the nearest tree. She held onto a branch for stability as she began wriggling out of her harness.

Setting aside his own tidal wave of hurt and frustration, Nathan only apologized, "I'm so sorry, 'Lizbeth."

But Elizabeth couldn't even look at him, she was so angry.

As she focused on ridding herself of the harness, Nathan noticed the hindrance of her soft curves, as she tried to tug off the tightened ropes from around her shapely figure. But, he more than felt her sharp edges now.

With his heart still stinging, and Elizabeth clearly fuming, unwilling to even meet his eyes, he wasn't really sure what to do. He did understand, though…all too well, unfortunately. He'd seen that same storm in her eyes for years. He'd, in fact, even been a martyr to her fear.

Reaching for her hadn't been right. She brushed him away. Maybe explaining? But since that would involve telling an indignant Elizabeth that her sense of danger was only in her head, he accurately assumed that wouldn't be helpful either.

So instead, Nathan asked a question as he saw her shaky fingers give up on her harness and fumble instead with the straps of her helmet.

"Can I help?" he asked softly, trying to find her eyes, even if she wouldn't look at him.

Exasperated, Elizabeth let out a frustrated, "Yes!" Helplessly and angrily, she tossed her hands down to her sides, as if he was to blame for the complicated equipment.

Nathan removed his gloves, wincing slightly as the fabric scraped against his right hand—the hand that had borne the brunt of Elizabeth's weight when she slipped and then dangled for an unusual block of time. A fiery, angry rope burn cut across the center of his palm, the skin still stinging with the memory of the lengthy arrest. Caught up in her own feelings, Elizabeth didn't notice his hands. She merely wanted to be out of this equipment for good.

Neither spoke a word, though the silence spoke volumes. Yet, the proximity of Nathan's loving heart, his nimble, capable fingers brushing Elizabeth's neck as they worked the straps beneath her chin, slowly crumbled her facade of fury. Without a sound, Nathan gently removed the helmet and lowered it onto a rock beside them. The moment he stood, Elizabeth's tears fell, fully and quickly, gushing out every ounce of fear. Her sobs broke the silence, a raw, uncontrollable release she'd held back in anger.

Now, Nathan instinctively reached for Elizabeth again, though this time she welcomed his embrace, holding him tightly and crying against his soft wool coat. He pulled out his handkerchief, offering it silently as her eyes overflowed with emotion. He'd honestly anticipated a few tears, but thought they'd preface the climb, if anything, as the typical fears settled in. Even as a Mountie, trained to consider and prepare for all possibilities, Nathan had never foreseen the scenario now unfolding between him and Elizabeth.

After a few moments had passed of his holding Elizabeth and comforting her after what felt for her like a harrowing ordeal, he asked gently, "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Still a little shaky, to be honest," she said quietly, her gaze meeting his only reluctantly. Pulling away from Nathan's embrace, Elizabeth walked a few feet away and perched on a boulder, irritation flashing in her eyes as her hand settled on the rough stone, a reminder of her adventure gone wrong.

Nathan stayed put, clearly not welcome. But, Elizabeth was looking him in the eyes at least, he thought, though emitting a noticeable edge that had yet to be softened.

Through Elizabeth, Nathan had changed. His old self would've been content just now to comfort Elizabeth and be on their way. But now, having opened his heart to her, it felt nearly impossible to suppress emotions the way he used to. Hurt gnawed at him for her angry words and the way she'd pushed him away. He figured her outburst was likely related to what happened in that last stretch of her climb. Even roped in, he knew it could feel nerve wracking to take that first fall.

Yet, he felt confused. Though she'd allowed him to hold her just now, he still felt the same prickly edge he'd once experienced when forced on the street to reveal his Fort Clay connection.

With a humble, but hurt heart, Nathan cautiously broached the obvious, unwilling to brush his feelings aside. "Lizabeth, maybe I'm missing something, but it feels like you're angry with me, and I'm not sure why. Can you tell me what's going on?"

She released a barely audible "Hmph," as if baffled by his ignorance. "I know you meant well, Nathan, but I can't believe you put me at risk like that!" The volume in her voice increased with each word until she was practically shouting.

"Risk?" Nathan blurted out, astonished with multiple facets of Elizabeth's faulty viewpoint. Although he knew Elizabeth wouldn't appreciate being contradicted, the facts clearly needed to be addressed.

Recognizing that the best approach wasn't standing feet away and looming above her seated figure, he chose a spot nearby, on the downslope of her same rock, hopeful that his passive positioning might ease some of the tension.

"'Look," Nathan began softly, glancing over at Elizabeth, before directing his comments out into the open, "I know climbing can feel frightening. We talked about that before you went up, that it's normal to take little falls. That's literally what I'm there for." Shifting slightly to catch her gaze, he repeated words he'd often said in training sessions. "So, you take a few deep breaths, get re-positioned, and keep going. It's not a reason to abandon the entire climb."

Despite Nathan's logical reasoning, Elizabeth's opinion didn't change. With fire in her eyes, she exclaimed, "I didn't feel safe, Nathan!"

Safe? Nathan thought with frustration, as if he'd never proven himself trustworthy of protecting her! At the personal dig, he heard an icy edge seeping into his own voice. "Trust me, Elizabeth. You were safe. The very reason you were up there dangling and not falling was because of me." He chose not to cut at her with how long she'd opted to hang there as if oblivious to who was holding her up and the strain of her prolonged decision. "I'd never let you fall, 'Lizbeth," he said with rising emotion. "I thought you knew that."

"It's just rock climbing, Nathan." With apparent annoyance, she sighed, and asked, "Why are we even having this conversation? I tried it. I got scared. I came down. End of story."

"It's not that simple," he answered back, looking away and shaking his head in disappointment. If only Elizabeth knew what he'd been hoping to gain with this climb. So, it wasn't just what was lost by her abrupt decision to bail.

Now, she was even questioning his impeccable dependability, a trait that tied not only to his integrity as a person but within his profession as well. "I just can't believe you think I'd put you at risk. I've spent years being there for you, gripping the rope below you, ready to save you at any instant."

Elizabeth could give him that, she supposed—she could easily list the times Nathan had literally saved her life. "That's true. You have," she was willing to admit, her slight smile offering an olive branch.

But it didn't dampen the fire now burning in Nathan. "Keeping you safe is the whole reason I came to Hope Valley! Even when you cut the rope so to speak, my eyes never left you, not for a single second. Only then, it was worse. I couldn't use the rope to save you. So, I felt like I was running all over with my arms stretched out, hoping I'd be in the right place at the right time if you fell."

With each word Nathan fired off, his exasperation only grew until he arrived at what worried him about Elizabeth's propensity to focus primarily on herself when it came to him.

"If you don't trust me after all that, to be there for you, to keep you safe, how can I trust you'll be there for me?"

Suddenly, in a moment of deja vu, Nathan felt like he'd slammed right back down to the bottom of the seesaw, even after what he'd thought had been a pivotal conversation on their ride to the rock wall. Elizabeth was given the perfect opportunity to prove what she'd just told him minutes before, how loving she could be. All she had to do to accomplish that very thing was to keep going and trust him. But, instead she quit, as if this date were only about her and what she felt, as if this were "just rock climbing" as she'd put it.

What Elizabeth didn't know was that after her climb, he'd planned to climb, where she'd be the one to belay him. Since belaying wasn't terribly complicated, he'd been willing to put his own life in the hands of a novice. With the love he knew she had for him, he trusted she'd grip the rope as if her life depended on it. Because in a way it did. The rope was their life, together. But, what sense did it make now to trust her with that rope if with all of his experience and all of his support, she didn't trust him?

The hurt, disappointment, frustration, and fury swirled into a mess of emotions that Nathan knew without a doubt were perceptible to Elizabeth. In a way, he wished he could revert to his old ways—shove these emotions into an empty room off the hallway of his heart, shut the door, and move on. If he'd done that, maybe this date could've been saved.

But, having given the entirety of his open heart to Elizabeth, he was left to wade through what still seemed to be a struggle in their relationship—Elizabeth being there for him. He didn't mean the once a year trainwreck kind of moments, like the inquisition or even Allie's recent turmoil about Dylan. Elizabeth excelled in those moments, and he loved her for it.

What Nathan needed was her loving awareness and support through the seemingly insignificant "nothing" moments, the ones that add up to be far more meaningful than the occasional "somethings" (1). And this "inconsequential" climb today happened to be one of those "nothings" that was not only entirely missed, but even treated flippantly.

Trying to reason, Elizabeth explained, "Nathan, of course I trust you, and I hope you trust me," she added with some evident hurt in her eyes. "But this climb wasn't about trust. There's a real risk up there."

Nathan's heart pounded away, every heartbeat deepening his hurt as Elizabeth continued to defend her actions, perfectly proving his point of her myopic view when it came to how they supported one another. He rose abruptly, his fists clenched as he distanced himself by a few steps, needing space to breathe.

With a storm of emotions brewing inside, Nathan tapped into his Mountie training out of necessity to calm his voice. Meeting Elizabeth's equally turbulent gaze, he asked, "Do you really think I'd bring you up here if there were any degree of risk you'd be hurt?"

Since Nathan at least acknowledged that to Elizabeth climbing was entirely new, he methodically reviewed the facts. "This is a 35-foot wall, Elizabeth. It's not 100! This is what I've trained Mounties to do. I was the one belaying. I'd never let you fall," he repeated once again.

"You can't promise me that," Elizabeth spewed with exasperation, exploding out of her rocky seat. "There's always a risk with any climb!"

Nathan pursed his lips, waiting to respond. He didn't want to be, but he was furious. It was his job to know how to do what he'd just led her to do. He'd trained hundreds of recruits to do the very thing. How could she not trust him? Did she think he'd bring her up here and risk her life, especially when she's a single parent to a little boy who'd won over his own heart even as a baby?

He wanted to yell. He wanted to ask her to name one time, just one time, he'd ever let her fall, in any way. Though, clearly that was beside the point. Elizabeth was solely focused on the tiniest risk as it related to her, all the while completely missing the broader perspective in how her climb related to him, and a date he'd spent hours planning.

And it's not that this was even about him, really. Yes, he was fighting for Elizabeth to truly see him, but primarily with the end in mind of what their love could be together if that seesaw ever balanced. Since her biting words gave him nowhere else to go, Nathan, the analytical Mountie, dug deeper into the facts.

Okay," Nathan began, pacing slowly and glancing at Elizabeth periodically. "So let's assume that there is a rare risk, even with me as the belayer—with this 35-foot cliff," he added, gesturing to the rock face and the coiled rope below. "This thick, industrial grade rope I checked ten times might suddenly fray in a way it never has and snap."

Nathan next settled his hand on his heart. "I may faint or have a heart attack and without anyone to belay… you fall."

As ludicrous as this exercise sounded, these very explanations were the rare ones Elizabeth was clinging to in fear, which completely occluded her vision of him, their date, and, in his opinion, their future, because this pattern was not new.

With no input from Elizabeth, Nathan continued, "Lightning might strike you down, an earthquake could hit where boulders break free from above…"

He wasn't trying to mock her, but needed to make it very clear just how little risk there was for her up there with him as the belayer. Making a rough guesstimate, he summarized with a degree of helplessness, "We're talking less than a tenth of one percent, Lizbeth…if that. So you think because there's that level of risk, it's not worth the climb?"

As if worn out by the endless stream of 'what ifs,' Nathan returned to the same boulder, this time choosing a relatively flat and comfortable spot since his positioning mattered little to Elizabeth, who remained standing.

With each example, Elizabeth felt bombarded with hurt, embarrassment, and confusion. Feeling flustered herself at how Nathan was making a mountain out of a molehill, she only exacerbated the problem in her heated response. "You said this was just for fun, Nathan! I got scared! What more do you want?" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

Nathan tried to temper his frustration with steadying breaths, masking the anger and hurt cascading into his heart as she now turned the blame to him. But inside, Nathan's emotions, so hopeful that morning, were crashing down in the aftermath of Elizabeth's slip, inconsequential in reality, but fatal to his attempt to show just how much they could be there for each other and conquer together by relying on their collective strength and devotion.

This wasn't a haphazardly planned date. Nathan had carefully considered how every detail would play into this meaningful day. He'd chosen this adventure, believing it would be perfect because of its apparent symbolism. Critical to both rock climbing and life, each partner has to be willing to risk what seems beyond their reach. What enables the necessary confidence, then, to climb any crag, especially one that is new, is support and trust.

But, clearly, he can't reach the same heights if his belay partner only shows up intermittently during his climb or if she's not willing to stretch, knowing he's supporting her with watchful care, her safety and success at the utmost forefront of his mind. Yet, at the very first challenging section, his partner bailed.

Elizabeth stared at Nathan for a moment while he looked away, trying to make sense of what had gotten into him. From his profile, she noted his clenched jaw and his pursed lips. Only when he turned did she catch sight of the deepest furrowed brow she'd seen on him yet. Her fatigue with this conversation filtered into her legs, already tired from the climb. She knew she needed to sit, but instead of joining Nathan on the same boulder, she chose a different rock, several feet away, clearly making her feelings known.

Nathan, who noticed all things Elizabeth, felt the sharp sting of her cold rejection in her choice. With a heavy sigh, Nathan rested his arms on his thighs and let his head hang, eyes locked on the ground as if trying to escape the frustration bubbling inside him. How could they be here, Nathan inwardly seethed, in this place of misaligned understanding, after all they'd been through?

Still, he reminded himself not to lose his temper. This date was already a disaster, and he didn't want to add fuel to the fire. As he debated how to focus this meandering conversation, Elizabeth asked the question that needed to be asked.

"Nathan, this is clearly about so much more than just me not finishing that climb. What is this really about?"

At this point, Nathan wanted nothing more than to get going and bag the whole day. But what he hoped for with Elizabeth held him in place, and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

Thinking back to the conversation they'd just had, resolving all the hurt from the Union City date and his explosion at the cabin, Nathan knew they were beyond subtext and layered meanings. So, he took a deep breath before speaking through his anger and hurt. In the past, he'd almost always relied on his thoughts as an intermediary step of processing before he spoke. But, now, it was time to simply speak from his heart, for better or worse. He rose from his established seat and, to Elizabeth's astonishment, settled beside her, to her right.

With a soft voice, meant to pacify both his and her heightened emotions, Nathan began, "You told me after the Union City date to stop shutting you out. I know how important that is to you, and it is to me now, too." His heart raced as he looked directly into eyes that hadn't wholeheartedly seen him as of yet today. "But, you can't imagine how hard it's been for me to open up. You're the only one who truly knows my heart. I've dug deep, 'Lizabeth, to let you in." In helpless desperation he asked, "Why can't you do the same for me?"

Even though his voice had remained calm, Elizabeth wore the same shocked expression as she had at the cabin.

Immediately, Nathan regretted those words…or did he? He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but it needed to be said. They'd just spent an hour on horseback covering this very topic, and yet minutes later it hadn't changed her behavior.

"What do you mean dig deep, Nathan?" Elizabeth exploded, triggered by Nathan's heartless words. "That's all I've been doing since Jack died! … Honestly, since I even fell in love with him!"

"Lizabeth, I know that's true," Nathan responded compassionately. "I really do. But, what I'm trying to say is that the way you see digging deep is different than what I'm asking you to do for me, for us."

Nathan's blue eyes filled with warmth for the woman he knew loved him, more than the stars in the sky, she alway said. Still, there was this gap in how she expressed it. While he accepted that his pointed feedback was likely to only stir up more anger and excuses, for the intimacy he hoped to find with Elizabeth, Nathan couldn't keep offering her grace after grace. He needed her to be there for him, for them.

"I hope you can see what I mean, 'Lizabeth" he said softly, taking her hand gently, knowing this would be hard to hear. "You dug deep for yourself, my love, and then for Little Jack, too, of course" he added, squeezing her hand in an attempt to soften the blow. "That's not the same as digging deep for me."

"But, I've been there for you Nathan!" Elizabeth immediately countered. "Even when we weren't together, I've always cared for Allie. I supported you through your inquisition, didn't I?"

Elizabeth's voice grew defensive, though wobbly, as she fought against the tears welling up in her eyes and the pain searing through her heart. What was happening, she thought.

Her hard-earned love with Nathan allowed her hand to continue resting in his though her protective instincts urged her to snatch it away from his grasp, and to hurt him like he was hurting her. "Do you know who came to get me when you were hurt in your accident?" Elizabeth continued, fighting to prove just how much she'd been there for him.

Nathan only stared in response. A dark sadness pooled in his deep blue eyes as the woman he hoped to make his wife first settled into a position of defense instead of truly hearing him. How often she'd asked him not to shut her out, only to have her shut him out, the moment he mustered the courage to open up to her.

"Lucas," she answered to her own question. "We'd just started dating, Nathan…dating. And even Lucas knew I'd want to be there for you…And I was!" she added vehemently, the tears falling as she lost the battle against her emotions. "I came right away."

"You did, 'Lizbeth," Nathan acknowledged. "I know," he added sweetly as Elizabeth started to cry. He pressed a kiss into her hair as he pulled her into his arms. He knew it had been an emotional day.

Though Nathan drew her to him in this familiar scene of comforting his sweetheart, he still held fast to what drove him to this conversation in the first place—he sensed their potential strength if Elizabeth could broaden more often to see things from his perspective rather than so narrowly focusing on her own.

Yet, she seemed so blind, so resistant, to what he was trying to convey. While it was evident that hurt and frustration brewed inside of her, the same emotions stabbed at him as well in this conversation that had thoroughly derailed their date. Still, he was surprised at how much he wanted to fight for this, to open her eyes to what he deeply needed from her—consistent support. He felt that even small steps on her part would better balance their relationship and elevate them both to a love beyond their wildest dreams. Now, if only he could help her understand.

"Yes, let's look at the past," he began, softly stroking her hair. "You're right. You were there when I needed you most—the inquisition, my accident, and even just now, with Allie."

Elizabeth pulled back from their embrace, connecting to the warmth she knew she'd see in Nathan's eyes. Despite her bruised heart, she slipped her hand in Nathan's, an action that nearly brought him to tears, considering the context of their conversation. They might just get there, he thought with a spark of hope.

"When you took my hand in the train station, it was the first time in my life I really knew someone could be there for me, and not just once, but always. That feeling, 'Lizbeth, that trust in you, is what helped me risk opening up like I have, trying to remove any walls between us."

Nathan noticed with relief how each word of sentiment was slowly clearing the hazy cloud from Elizabeth's eyes. He hoped this change of direction wouldn't alter that effect. "It's not that I don't appreciate you being there when I've needed you most. You shone in those moments, sweetheart. But, for me, those moments only came around maybe once a year."

Although Nathan could feel the sudden tension in Elizabeth's posture, as she realized he wasn't ending on praise for her efforts, he poured his heart into his question. "So, what I'm asking of you, 'Lizbeth, in all of this," he added, referencing their conversation, "is what do you want, for us?"

As that familiar inquest pierced their silent surroundings, Nathan followed suit with his own thoughts, just as he had in the schoolhouse. "I know for me, that what we already have is more than I ever imagined. But I know it can be so much more, for me, and for the two of us, as you learn to see me in the little moments, too."

Though his heart still ached from Elizabeth's repetitive blows and the disappointment of this disaster date, he squeezed her hand in gratitude for their love. "This mattered to me, today. And I realize that's not exactly fair because you didn't know how much symbolism it carried for me. But, to have you say you didn't trust me was just—"

"You're right, Nathan," Elizabeth interjected, her own walls of self defense crumbling. "I panicked. I let fear get in the way." She looked down at his hands, hating to let down this man who'd so steadfastly protected her. Preferring to keep her eyes out of reach, she brushed her thumbs across those skilled hands as she spoke. "You're an expert in this. You even made me an exceptionally safe harness."

Elizabeth looked up at Nathan now, meeting his conflicted gaze, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. In Nathan's thoughtful way, he'd done everything to keep her safe, which brought guilty tears to her eyes. Yet, her grin won over at the memory of him helping her get the harness adjusted. She chuckled lightly as she admitted, "I liked my harness."

Despite Nathan's weary heart, his head subconsciously tilted as a lopsided smile escaped his lips. "I did, too," he confessed.

Feeling hesitant and shy in the midst of this argument, Elizabeth kissed Nathan lightly on the cheek. "You did all you could, Nathan. It was my fault. I'm sorry. You were ready with the rope," she said with clarity, shaking her head at ever doubting his devotion. "I know you'd never let me fall. Of course you wouldn't. I was just scared," she shrugged, glancing up at him under her long eyelashes.

Nathan sighed. That look could melt any man's heart from half a mile away. Torn and tattered, he didn't know what to say. While he appreciated her apology and her reaffirming words, he felt confused at how they contradicted what she'd spewed at him earlier.

Settled now in his mode of unfiltered thoughts, he boldly asked, "Then why did you say what you did earlier—about risk and trust? What happened to change all that?"

The fact that Nathan quickly jumped clear back to Elizabeth's weakest moment ignited the ember in her that had nearly been snuffed out.

"A lot of stuff happened up there, okay…" Elizabeth snapped, already on the defensive, "and if you don't mind, that's just where I'd like to leave it."

Eyes wide from yet another unexpected blow, Nathan thought, That's not what I want, still troubled by any sign that Elizabeth didn't trust him.

As a repeat wave of the initial conflict flooded their hearts, Elizabeth added definitively, "I just want to go home, Nathan.

Reeling from new wounds, he spoke without a thought. "Fine."

Frustrated by the abrupt change in Elizabeth's tone, he rose from the rock to allow himself some distance, and for a moment, even turned away. Still, there seemed to be a shift. If, from her secure position now, she could at least admit that he'd been reliable with the rope below, it was a small step forward.

As Nathan looked to the blue sky, which instantly reminded him of a certain pair of eyes, he marveled at the mess this date had become. Never had there been a truer statement: Elizabeth was the common denominator in the rare moments he lost control of his emotions.

Elizabeth might've seen their first adventure as just rock climbing, but to Nathan, every detail was part of a carefully planned sequence, each event designed to build upon the last, every moment rich with meaning. For him, connecting to the same rope followed by the act of belaying—of supporting one another, one at a time—was the perfect way to begin their date.

Their life together depended on that rope so to speak, and yet at Elizabeth's first falter this morning she threw it all away, abandoning the climb entirely and emotionally running away. How was that supposed to make him feel? Roll over and coo at her and with sweet words console her fear? No! He'd done that for years!

Nathan was still wanting to be there for her, of course. But now, with all they'd shared, he really needed her, too. That was the whole point of this date, and at the first challenge it fell apart. He didn't want to feel the way he did, but his frustration over it all ate at him like fire. One thing was clear, though. He far preferred the other kind of fire he felt for Elizabeth, so he desperately hoped for a path to that very heat that filled him with light and love instead of this inferno that left him in darkness and disappointment.

Although Nathan's heart felt ripped and stomped on, he couldn't possibly walk away from all the love he knew they shared. Whatever had just triggered Elizabeth, he still felt like they'd made progress by the little ways she'd responded to support him even as they argued—holding his hand, the kiss on the cheek, her humility in admitting she was wrong.

If they were indeed headed home, Nathan needed something good to come from this date. So, he leaned into the ache that was leading him toward resolution.

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Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have the time to comment.

(1) Reference to the movie You've Got Mail: "The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings."

"One step at a time. You've got this. You're safe." These were my words! It's amazing how steadying a mantra can be, and I imagined that Elizabeth in her first climb would need something to focus her attention. I've climbed Half Dome in Yosemite and Angel's Landing in Zion, both of which were fairly nerve-racking even though I don't have a particular fear of heights. Although these two bucket list hikes are reasonably safe, you're NOT roped in on these climbs and it honestly doesn't feel safe. So, those sentences on repeat got me through Angel's Landing in a freak rain storm with slippery chains. Although I have empathy for Elizabeth's fear while climbing, I, for one, am profoundly grateful whenever I have the opportunity to be attached to a rope. The stability and confidence that comes with that one mental reassurance is mind-blowing. But—you have to trust both the rope and the person belaying you.