Chapter 20: Perfect for Me
But, to fall asleep that night … Nathan started again, beginning in his journal where he left off.
As both a Mountie and a man, I needed this word "impeccable" to make sense because I've just been so hurt and trying to understand why what feels so right is going all wrong. Even though it was through Allie, "impeccable" was the only word Elizabeth had essentially spoken to me since riding away. I've already filled up enough journal pages about that for now, though.
So, I guess to sum up…I may have been grasping at straws last night, but in trying to wrap my head around the conversation Elizabeth had with Allie, I went to bed last night with the thought that maybe Elizabeth's "impeccable" might mean caring enough about someone that you see the absolute best in them. How could it be anything else? I'm in no way perfect or ideal or flawless. It's possible "impeccable" is even symbolic, like her "be safe." Because if she was talking to Allie about me, it's not like she would've told her that she hoped I'd 'be safe.' Could "impeccable" be a new code word?
Anyway, I knew I was making myself crazy. But, as I tried to sleep last night, worried about whether I'd even still be a Mountie by the end of today, that smallest assumption about "impeccable" gave me comfort that even if I lost my badge, it might not be the end of everything forever when it came to Elizabeth.
So, back to today. Allie barged into the investigation, giving an impassioned speech that would've made Colleen proud. Professionally, I managed to be stoic, but inside I was a mess of emotions. About to lose my job. Unsure if I'd lost Elizabeth, who now was standing in front of me, supportive, yes, but not once looking my way. All the while Allie, truly my daughter in heart, was facing off against Hargreaves himself.
If anything, I was stunned, realizing that for the first time I wasn't up against the whole world alone. At the most critical moment, my favorite people showed up for me, each there in some way or another, to fight for me when I'd lost hope that the fight might actually make a difference this time. If only Little Jack had toddled in, he'd have been the perfect cherry on top—all of my favorite people in one room, including Bill, too, of course.
At that, though, I would've crumbled. I know that moment would've pushed me over the edge, but in the best way—like all the love and loyalty I thought I'd lost was suddenly right there, fighting for me when I'd lost the strength to fight for myself.
Still, that's nearly where I went when I heard Allie throw out "impeccable" and saw Elizabeth's reaction. When Allie tied it back to "Mrs. Thornton" Elizabeth gasped and immediately glanced over at me, like a boundary had been crossed without her okay. To me, she looked exposed, like her feelings had just been put out there for everyone to see.
In that instant, I knew "impeccable" was as I thought, more than her thinking I was some perfect person, which I'm not. It was a word from her heart, not from the dictionary. How I kept my composure, I'm not sure because it felt like a dozen "Be safe's" hit my heart at once. Despite Elizabeth's "I can't" and her riding away, I was struck to realize she wasn't withdrawing her love and turning away completely. She'd shown up for me, and for Allie, and whether she'd wanted to share or not, I could feel her love was still there in her eyes and in her words that always seemed to stretch beyond the assumed meaning.
Though I'm not much of a believer in miracles, I can't help but acknowledge that Allie and Elizabeth were just that for me today. And Bill, as well, over two very long days. He pushed me in the way only he can, to gather every last bit of truth. And I have to admit, I didn't make it easy for him. But, he already knew about Elizabeth, and he wasn't going to let me drown myself. So, in true Bill style, he did whatever he could to keep me from being thrown to the wolves, or one wolf in particular.
In the end, though, I think it was a feisty twelve-year-old who turned the tables of this investigation, or perhaps the presence of Jack Thornton's widow held sway. Because to my surprise, and to Bill's as well, Hargreaves decided not to take action against me.
By that point, Elizabeth had already taken Allie outside. I figured they'd gone back to the school. But, when I opened the door, there was Allie, and Elizabeth, too, looking just as anxious as Allie for the verdict. I didn't even have to say a word. They knew the outcome just by looking at me.
After Allie ran into my arms, my attention soon fell to Elizabeth, standing below. With the look in her eyes, I could almost feel her arms around me, just like before in the street, as if Allie was her stand in. I think for her, it might've been the same, by the way she smiled at me. Allie's always been there for us. So many times we've used her name to say what we somehow couldn't for ourselves. That's what it felt like with that hug. Allie was the bridge, helping us to hold each other in a world that doesn't seem destined to have a widow marry another Mountie. I hope that's a fate I can change.
I really needed that hug, from Allie and from Elizabeth. She rode away just days ago and, until this afternoon, we hadn't spoken since. But, there she was, holding me with her eyes and her smile. And I could feel that she cares, and that she's not gone forever. She told me "I can't," though, which I'm still trying to understand. What she did today to save my career meant the world to me. But I need her to know I'd give it all up tomorrow if it's what was standing in our way of being together.
That's why it's hard to know how to feel. I'm grateful that what I love doing wasn't taken away. I still have a job. That's a plus. Allie and I will stay in Hope Valley, which certainly feels like home now. But how can I not feel torn up all over again seeing that look in Elizabeth's eyes that says we're so much more than friends? I guess what gives me some comfort moving forward is that even if our love is complicated, I at least know it's there. Elizabeth is fighting for me in the way she can, and I can see that. What's tough to handle in the hardest moments is that it makes me love her all the more.
But that's who Elizabeth is to me. She's there for me in the most important ways before I even know to ask. She rode away in one sense, but walked right in when I needed her most.
I can try to do it all on my own again. I've done that every other time of my life. But maybe I don't need to. Though our love is by no means simple, I know, what I've been surprised to see is that in my lowest moments, I'm not actually alone like I would've thought. It makes me feel hopeful that I haven't lost Elizabeth completely, that maybe there's still a chance for us. I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to fight for the love I know is there between us. It's not easy, asking her to love another Mountie after losing Jack, which is why I need her to understand that I'd choose her, no question, over the Mounties if that's what it takes.
Still, I know this is so much to ask of her, really, especially since she doesn't even know yet about my connection to Jack. I've wanted to tell her a thousand times. I know I've waited too long now, and I hate how that will hurt her even more.
As Nathan had been reading earlier, Elizabeth's hold on him began as a snug, comforting hug. But, sentence by sentence, her arms continued tightening, her heart breaking for all that Nathan had silently endured. She offered a quiet prayer to heaven, thanking God for Colleen's wisdom in giving him a journal. Elizabeth, herself, understood the power of words only written. She believed that somehow just the act of laying them out on a page released what was in your heart into the universe, leaving out all that you felt, open and ready, to be healed. She believed the same of Nathan, too, and hoped that by writing through all his heartache, and sharing it with her now, he could be released of that burden. For now, her mind and heart were in two different places—one listening to Nathan's words, the other thinking of his well-being then and now as she heard the topic shifting.
Elizabeth actually brought up Fort Clay today. I guess Allie told her I was stationed there. So, it's a relief to have that out in the open, at least. And, honestly, it's cleared a path for me to tell her everything soon. I just need to find the right time, but clearly my timing hasn't been the greatest lately.
Despite the way Nathan's own words pricked at his healing heart, he still managed a soft chuckle when he stopped reading out of necessity. "'Lizbeth, my love, I can't breathe," he said, surprised at the sheer strength of her embrace, now so tight it felt like her love had turned into a vice—her need to ease his hurt almost overwhelming them both.
Though Elizabeth smiled, the weight of Nathan's words were too heavy for her to join in his amusement. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. But I can't loosen much more than this," she explained, her hold still loving and tight. Fighting off tears, she whispered. "I'd erase all of this for you if I could, Nathan."
With the emotion in her voice, Nathan knew it was true. Touched by the depth of her love, he tipped his head toward hers, resting it gently there for a brief, quiet moment. "Thank you, sweetheart," Nathan murmured, his voice humble and grateful, as he lifted his hand from the journal to cover one of hers, still wrapped securely around his chest.
"Just you saying that is healing to me. I know I've struggled a lot with guilt over Jack's death. But, at the same time, if that connection was erased, I never would've met you."
At the sobering thought, Nathan left his journal on his lap and drew Elizabeth in, squeezing her as tightly as she had him, but quickly loosening his grip to a snug, comfortable hold—one that allowed both of them to breathe easier. "It's just all very…humbling, really. It always has been," he whispered, before pressing a kiss into her hair.
"I feel the same," Elizabeth sighed, "Simply in awe that we're here, that you even came to Hope Valley, and that my fear of losing you didn't push you away for good."
She looked up at Nathan, as if to remind herself that this inexpressible love they shared was actually real, and not just a dream. Feeling his warm lips find hers was a definite distraction from her assessment. But after a series of soft kisses, she felt grounded in a love whose depth was not built on a journey written for fairy tales.
Remembering what led them on this tangent, Elizabeth directed her attention back to Fort Clay. "I know you're trying to let go of the guilt around Jack's death, and from the bottom of my heart, I hope you can. Yes, it was a tragedy, but you are in no way to blame. Please know that's true."
The sincerity in Elizabeth's eyes wrapped Nathan in a comforting warmth, as though she'd tenderly tucked the blue fleece blanket around his heart the way he once did for her. "I'm coming to realize that more," he assured her, his eyes softening. "I really am."
As Nathan's words lingered in the air, he felt Elizabeth settle more deeply against him, relaxing into his arms. Her voice, filled with relief, lightened as she spoke. "I couldn't be more grateful to hear that. And, to be honest, you have nothing to worry about with Little Jack. Do you know what he told me the other day?"
She adjusted her position, drawing back just enough to put Nathan's face within her line of sight. "When I asked him if he missed his dad, he surprised me a little, saying that he didn't because it feels like Jack is with him."
"That's wonderful, 'Lizbeth," Nathan said, his blue eyes smiling.
"It is," she quickly replied, "But, it's what he said right after that I wanted you to hear."
Nathan instantly felt his heart start beating faster, wanting to give his best to the boy he'd be calling 'son.'
Elizabeth brushed her hand along Nathan's broad back, her voice filled with affection. "He said, 'And we have Mountie Nathan, too.'"
She immediately saw how Little Jack's loving words, directly linked to the mention of his biological father, struck a chord in the tender heart of her constable. He looked away, lowering his gaze to the journal in his lap. In that moment, Nathan felt a seamless flow from Elizabeth's strength around him to the way his chest was tightening with love for her sweet boy, remembering now in his journal entry how he'd just called Little Jack his cherry on top, a critical position to the sundae of his favorite people.
He laughed ever so softly, with a low rumble that betrayed the rising emotion in him. Unable to speak, he pressed his lips together to steady himself, catching the one tear from the corner of his eyes that he couldn't stop from escaping. After clearing his throat, he said, "You know, I never considered myself an emotional man. Far from it, in fact. But, with you, I think I'm becoming pretty soft." He chuckled again, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
Elizabeth looked directly into Nathan's watery eyes, her gaze full of tenderness. "Is that such a bad thing?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with love.
Nathan lifted his hand to Elizabeth's cheek, his thumb gently brushing across her perfectly smooth skin, as if the simple touch could convey everything he struggled to put into words.
"No, not at all," he answered, his lips meeting hers in an emotional kiss as a few more tears slipped from his eyes, wetting both of their cheeks.
With care, Elizabeth's thumbs swept away the trail of Nathan's tears.
"Sorry," he said with a small smile. "It's just that I've already loved Jack for years. But now, to think that I'll be…" His voice suddenly caught, so Elizabeth bridged the silence.
"I will never be sorry, Nathan," she insisted, as she pressed a soft kiss to one cheek, then the other. "To have moments like this with you—never."
Elizabeth felt Nathan sigh, releasing the heaviness that likely surfaced in being drawn back by his journal to such a heartbreaking week. His faint smile stretched into something fuller, returning the deep blue twinkle to his eyes.
Instinctively, they tilted their heads in perfect unison, their foreheads meeting with a soft, grounding touch, allowing their hearts to speak the words they didn't need to say.
Following a few synchronized breaths, the couple naturally parted. In the few moments of stillness, a thought had filtered its way into Elizabeth's mind, a clarification she knew Nathan needed to hear.
"I just wanted to add one thing about what you said earlier—that your connection to Jack brought you here to me. I know you've said that before, and this time I realized how you've always linked the two," she said, pulling Nathan's hands into hers, gently holding the one that was bandaged.
"But, it really isn't true, Nathan. Any man could've been the one meant to lead the training mission instead of Jack." Tenderly, she squeezed love into the strength of his hands before explaining, "Only a man with your heart would've come to Hope Valley."
Elizabeth was enough of a realist to know that while Hope Valley was a place where dreams felt possible and where love ran deep, even in this hometown of theirs, Nathan's golden heart was a rarity—shining bright in a world that too often overlooked such true, untainted goodness.
"Yes, Hope Valley needed another Mountie after Jack passed. But, the man beneath the serge I needed was you, Nathan, no one else." Elizabeth helplessly fiddled with his buttons, her fingers alternating between the third and fourth, knowing intimately now what even rested beneath his weathered henley.
In such a deep moment, Nathan felt entirely filled, both from Elizabeth's words and by the love that extended through her hands as she fingered the buttons he knew regularly pulled at her.
Feeling so wholly loved himself, it was effortless for him to reflect that same warmth back to her, as if her love had unlocked something within him that flowed freely in return. "That's exactly what I felt about you after the inquiry. That, for me, anyway, it wasn't about needing someone in my life. It was about needing you, and only you."
Picking back up his journal, he said, "So as messy as all this was, you're the one person who's made everything feel worth it, even the pain."
Elizabeth nodded in understanding, her heart flooding with emotion. A hopeful smile spread quickly across her face, expanding in breadth with each word. "And it's only going to get better now, Nathan. I mean, we've only been together for, what…six weeks now?"
Nathan flashed his lopsided grin. "Six weeks, two days, and…" He paused, glancing up at the sun to gauge the time. "Nineteen hours." A soft chuckle escaped him as he gave her a playful wink. "But, who's counting?"
"Apparently you are, Constable," she giggled, wondering more about numbers moving in the opposite direction—a countdown to the day she could marry this impeccable man she loved more than the stars in the sky.
"I'm just counting my blessings," he said, lifting her fingers from his buttons and pressing a tender kiss to each one. "And there are far too many to count," he added, his thoughts wandering to all the ways Elizabeth filled his soul. Then there was Little Jack, Allie, and their new cadet. Of course, Bill—the man who'd stood as his most loyal protector. And Rosemary, too, with her thoughtful selection of the perfect swimsuit for Elizabeth and the deepening friendship she'd offered him as a part of his growing family. She'd even reminded him, in one of his lower moments, of the happiness she saw him bringing to her best friend—and to the little blonde boy everyone in town adored.
It was easy to count the people in Hope Valley now. Sure, his start here had been rocky, but every soul he'd met had found a place in his heart—one that kept expanding, nurtured by the love Elizabeth so freely and fully gave him.
"We've been blessed, haven't we?" Elizabeth responded, her words a stark contrast to the shadowed pain that lingered between the lines of sunlight in the journal entry Nathan had been reading.
"Infinitely," Nathan answered, the vastness of the word stretching the time and space between them. Eventually, his gaze fell to the last written lines on the page of his journal. "I'll go ahead and finish reading now. It's not much longer," he added, as if apologetically. Yet, appreciating how differently he felt approaching these last words, he poured out his love to the woman who consistently infused his life with light. "With all you said just now, 'Lizbeth, the heartache from this time is feeling more and more like a distant memory."
"I couldn't be happier to hear that, sweetheart," she replied, settling back into place, wrapping her arms around Nathan's chest and resting her head against his shoulder, ready to tighten her embrace whenever the hardest memories surfaced.
For this entry, Nathan wasn't interested in reading back to find his place. So, he only picked up where he left off, reminding Elizabeth of the context. "So, if you remember, I was surprised that you'd showed up for me, even though we hadn't spoken since you'd ridden away. But, then at the same time, with my tie to Fort Clay coming up, that was really weighing on me."
Nathan felt more prepared to read these words now, especially as he felt Elizabeth's arms lovingly squeeze around him. In his low, humble voice—so distinctly Nathan's—he continued:
Elizabeth really deserves to hear the whole story, though, and I need her to know, too. Since I started falling for her, the added guilt of her not knowing has been relentless, a weight that sits heavy on my chest every single day. Ironically, the only time it's gone, other than while I'm sleeping, is during the very moments I'm with her. So, it's hard to know—maybe I won't feel as guilty after I tell her.
But, then again, I'm terrified at how she'll look at me once she knows. I doubt "impeccable'" will ever be a word she considers for me again.
Elizabeth gasped, her heart breaking at Nathan's words. But remembering her internal promise to hear out his entire entry without interruption, despite already breaking it once, she stayed silent. Though Nathan noticed her sharp intake of breath he pressed on, more than ready to put to rest a journal entry he probably should've left as ink without a voice. Yet, this deep in, he continued:
Earlier, I got sidetracked on the synonyms of "impeccable" and forgot to mention how painfully ironic the definitions are. "Free from fault or blame," and "incapable of sin." Obviously, that's not at all the way I feel when it comes to Jack. I can only hope that Elizabeth will forgive me. I'm not sure how I'll even find the words to tell her what happened, especially now that so much time has passed. I never meant to cause her more pain.
Once again, Elizabeth's arms tightened around Nathan, squeezing him just enough to constrict his airflow. But this time, it was intentional, compelling him to stop. "I'm sorry, Nathan," she said, cutting in as she loosened her hold just a little, her voice soft but firm. "I just have to point out that I've used 'impeccable' multiple times to describe you, even after you told me about Jack. The way I felt about you never changed," she insisted.
"Yes, I remember," Nathan replied quietly, "every single one." He smiled warmly now, even at a memory he thought would never hold a sliver of light. "'Lizbeth, you may not remember, but even at my lowest point, your heart still told me how you felt."
She looked up at him quizzically, a silent invitation for him to elaborate.
"As you left the jail, you were nearly out the door when you turned and told me, 'Tell Allie that I'll always think you're impeccable.'"
Even though Elizabeth had been in the Mountie office dozens of times, the way they seamlessly completed each other's thoughts told him he didn't need to offer any further explanation—she knew exactly which moment he meant.
Elizabeth felt the familiar twinge of heartache at the memory of what else had been said that day, but she pushed it aside, leaving it where it belonged—addressed and in the past, and told him, "I remember that, actually. I wanted to leave. It was so painful to stay. But, you're right. 'Impeccable' became another 'Be safe.' Even though it wasn't even something I understood at the time, I just had to say it. I needed to let you know."
"Even through Allie," Nathan said, his tone light and playful, despite the heaviness the overall memory would always hold for him.
"Even through Allie," Elizabeth echoed back, her eyes twinkling with how often that sweet girl's name and presence had been used between them as a means to express their true emotions.
"I wrote 'impeccable' in the book I signed for you," Elizabeth chimed in, a wave of warmth flooding her heart as she remembered how grateful she felt writing it out—finally able to express her feelings freely in the safety of their friendship.
"Yes," Nathan laughed softly, openly admitting, "My thumb has brushed over that word so often I'm surprised it hasn't worn out the page."
While Elizabeth melted into a puddle she wasn't sure she'd survive, Nathan's mind drifted back to the most stirring moment she'd called him "impeccable." It was outside her row house, after he'd just rescued her, an evening that was both the best and worst night of his life. Fortunately, fate saved the best for last.
Despite the softness of his blue linen shirt, in contrast to the stiffness of his serge, Nathan's senses were still razor-sharp, locked into full Mountie mode, on edge from pulling Elizabeth to safety by jumping into a hay wagon below.
So, in a mentality of heightened awareness, Nathan remembered every healing sentiment she'd shared with him that night, each one vivid in his mind, and how the word "impeccable" had shifted the entire moment.
Up until then, Elizabeth had been expressing what she loved about him, her words wrapped in warmth and affection. But after "impeccable," there was a noticeable pivot—one that quickly veered into playful teasing about his distractingly good looks, something she always loved to bring up now, hinting at the romantic pull he had on her.
Then, every word that followed eventually led to her confessing that she'd always been "in" love with him, too. If he hadn't still been geared in Mountie overdrive, he might've needed to sit down as he anticipated beforehand the words he'd longed to hear her say.
In those few moments, as the familiar "impeccable" subtext echoed in his mind, he was nudged by this memory from years back, the night he spent trying to decipher what "impeccable" might mean, realizing now—like in every other context—it had always been her way of showing him that she loved him fully and completely, even if she couldn't be his at the time. That is, until that most unforgettable point of singularity, when she finally connected the dots with a string of words that revealed everything he'd somehow held on to all along.
Immersed in the transcendence of that moment, Nathan tenderly brushed his fingers along Elizabeth's arm and asked in a hushed voice, "Do you remember saying the same word at your rowhouse?"
"Yes, of course," Elizabeth replied without hesitation. "I even remember how I felt when I said it—like there couldn't be a man more perfect for me."
Nathan's chest tightened, the weight of her words settling deep within him. He gave a small, reflective smile, his gaze softening as he looked at her, his voice rich with emotion.
"Ah, that's where the 'perfect' comes in," he noted, his tone quiet but filled with understanding, as he thought back to the list of synonyms that had once confused him. He was perfect for her, Nathan thought, and she was perfect for him. "Just like the Easter egg…" he said, still drifting in reflective thought, remembering the rewards he'd placed at the top of the climb that morning, the treasure that waited for them both.
"Two halves make a whole," Elizabeth said, finishing his thought, her words a mirror of his own, as if their minds and hearts were intricately woven together.
"Exactly," Nathan added, a single word somehow suiting the moment. The two soulmates locked eyes, the unspoken understanding between them more telling than words could ever be.
With his thoughts drawn back to their rock climbing that morning, Nathan's focus returned to their date, the hot springs, and his journal resting on his lap. He realized all that still lay ahead, and that they'd need to move on in not too long.
So, glancing down at his journal, he announced lightheartedly, "There's only a handful of sentences left. I think we can manage to make it through, don't you?"
"Maybe," Elizabeth eyed him warily, readying her arms to hold him close.
As Nathan began reading once again, she could feel the shift in his voice—now calm and content—recognizing that he'd finally reached the best part.
Today's small ray of hope keeps urging me to believe there might just be more for us. Until this afternoon, I hadn't realized Elizabeth knew I'd been at Fort Clay. Based on our later conversation, it was clear she had questions, even about that initial connection to Jack, feeling hurt and maybe even angry that I hadn't told her sooner. So, despite having a bone to pick and already turning me away, she still walked into that investigation today. And she gave me a smile afterwards that, through any Mountie lens, didn't suggest we were over and done. I just can't believe her riding away meant "never." Hopefully it's more of a "not now." I've already chosen Hope Valley twice. I'm not going anywhere. I just have to hope time and Elizabeth's mercy will be on my side.
The moment Nathan's voice fell into silence, his heart took over, pounding as he finally released into the past all the weight that entry still unexpectedly carried for him.
"Nathan," Elizabeth breathed softly, her heart touched, moved, and lifted with all that he'd shared. "I'm not sure what you were talking about earlier—your journal just being thoughts. You write from the heart," she told him with the respect of a published author, who'd worked hard to figure out what he seemed to do effortlessly by intuition. "It gives your words an authenticity that's rare, like the honesty and integrity you carry in everything you do. It's like I can see your soul."
"Thank you, sweetheart," Nathan replied. "That was harder to get through than I thought it would be." He looked at her closely, heart to heart, and with quiet vulnerability, admitted, "You can imagine, though…I never guessed I'd be reading that to you."
"No, of course not," Elizabeth acknowledged, understanding as a journal writer herself how personal those reflections were. "But that's what's so remarkable. It's you, holding nothing back. And you're right," she whispered, lifting a loving hand to Nathan's cheek, a soft smile playing at her lips. "You saw right through me in those moments around the inquiry. I deeply cared, Nathan. And I never would've left you alone," she assured him. "You may have sensed what was in my heart at the time. But I loved you then more than you could've ever known, even more than I realized myself," she added thoughtfully, her heart swelling with the weight of that truth.
"That means the world to me, 'Lizbeth," Nathan said, cradling her face in his hands before pulling her into a tender kiss that expressed all the gratitude he wasn't able to share at the time.
Elizabeth's mind was reeling, not only from Nathan's emotional kiss but from the enormity of what he'd written. They could easily spend another hour—or more—talking about the journal entry, even just reflecting on what still felt relevant. Yet, as much as Elizabeth was listening for that flicker of love Nathan had wanted to highlight, what resonated most deeply with her was the raw pain in his words. So, despite knowing the past wasn't what he wanted to revisit, she couldn't help but address that, too.
"Nathan, I know you said you're in a good place about the past, but I'm not sure I can ever apologize enough for running away."
Instinctively, Nathan felt familiar words rush to his mind: Elizabeth, you don't have to… But in recognizing he had to do his part to balance their seesaw, rather than just sacrificially sitting at the bottom, he remained quiet.
"I know I left like that more than once, too," she admitted, her eyes full of remorse. "Hearing even just a glimpse of what that felt like from your side makes what I did seem so cruel."
Here, Nathan just had to interject. Besides, he didn't want to get mired in the muck of a past that couldn't possibly be changed. Elizabeth wasn't the same person she was back then. And frankly, neither was he. That was the whole point—the way they'd stretched, grown, and healed together, in spite of it all.
"'Lizbeth, I know that wasn't your intent," Nathan said sweetly. "You were doing the best you could."
She shook her head lightly at his response. "I'm just so humbled at how understanding you've been. But you deserve to hear more. I don't know how else to explain it, except to say that it was a time where grief made me act in ways I normally wouldn't." Though her blue eyes were searching, desperate to see forgiveness in Nathan's eyes, what she saw was a love that had extended her grace years ago as she mended his heart with her friendship.
Still, Elizabeth felt compelled to give him more of an explanation. "I know it wasn't fair to you, but I left so abruptly each time because I was scared that if I stayed I'd break even more, knowing I couldn't bring myself to do anything differently. I'm so sorry to have hurt you."
She snuggled into Nathan's frame, her arms wrapping around him, aware that her touch had a way of reaching him when words felt inadequate to convey everything she felt. Now, through the bridge of her affection, she spoke to his heart. "I need you to know, Nathan, that's my biggest regret—running away. If I could do it all over again, I would've at least wanted to talk through what was hard, the way we do now. You deserved that."
Nathan's voice was soft and soothing, as he murmured, "Thank you, my love," pulling her in gently. "You don't have to carry that regret anymore. We're here now, together, and that's what matters." He spoke even more through his gentle gesture, pressing a soft kiss to the curls lining her temple, his physical expression abundant and increasingly unguarded.
"Besides, 'Lizabeth, these words I read weren't meant to hurt you, sweetheart. They're just what I felt then." Nestled against Nathan's sturdy frame, Elizabeth felt him shrug, and his voice softened further, helpless to hide what his journal so clearly revealed. "And, in truth, I was heartbroken. How could I not be, to think I'd lost you?"
Nathan's words lingered in the air as his hands brushed affectionately along the fabric of her jacket, the memory of her soft skin still fresh in his mind. "But I'm not holding onto that anymore. We've said it before, anyway—that it feels like everything has led us to this moment, right?"
For the first time, Elizabeth placed a kiss on his blue linen shirt, her face resting along its natural folds. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "I know, Nathan. As much as I wish things could've been different, I'm grateful you had this journal, at least—to write what I never gave you the chance to say, and to make sense of it all... as best you could, anyway."
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with eyes that held all the love she wished she could've shared then. "But I'm here now, Nathan," Elizabeth said, her voice caring and committed, as she met his gaze. "I'm listening. And I'll always be here for you, wanting to hear what you've only ever written down before, even the hard parts. You can still fill your journal, but know that I'm here to listen, to help you work through whatever you need—whether it's the past, the wounds we still need to heal, or the challenges ahead. We'll face it all together."
As Nathan was ready to respond with his usual grace, moved by Elizabeth's unwavering support, he felt a little nudge, reminding him of his recent promise to her that he'd bring up anything that was bothering him. The timing, Nathan thought, internally groaning. He tried to reason with that nudge, telling the voice in his head this could wait.
But, of course, Elizabeth's lead-in was perfect, as if inviting him here and now to talk through a recent moment that had pricked his heart. Did he really want to launch in to what could be another heavy discussion? In all honesty, he'd rather sweep it under the rug. He felt like maybe it was a little nit-picky anyway. The hurt he felt was probably just triggered from the past, something he needed to figure out for himself.
Still, a promise was a promise. He sighed, a mix of resignation and gratitude filling him, knowing they had something rare: a trust that allowed them to talk through the hard things, and in doing so, grow stronger and closer with every word.
"'Lizbeth, there's something I should probably bring up."
"Oh?" she asked, surprised, sitting up so she could face him more directly, her eyes searching his. "What is it?"
Though Nathan immediately felt self-conscious bringing up what might seem to Elizabeth like an insignificant part of their recent disagreement, he steadied himself, realizing that if they were going to build something lasting, honest and respectful communication was a skill they both needed to practice.
Nathan hesitated, his brow furrowing as he gathered his thoughts. While Elizabeth waited, she actively responded, lifting his hand between both of hers and holding it gently on her leg. Although he was wrapped up in his wording, Nathan still smiled, his heart warming at her determination to follow through and be his devoted pair of listening ears.
He looked into his sweetheart's caring eyes, and started first from a place of love. "Your apology was so sincere just now, 'Lizbeth, about running away. I know this isn't the best timing, here on our date, but with the promises we made earlier about bringing up anything that's bothering us…well…I'm not sure you'd see it the same way. Still, it seems with what you said that you'd want to know…"
"Nathan," Elizabeth interjected, trying to put her unusually flustered constable out of his misery.
Clearly, it worked, considering he stopped rambling, and found himself looking into a pair of amused blue eyes.
"You can tell me what's on your mind," she assured him, her tone gentle but firm. "Don't worry about the wording, either," she added with an encouraging smile.
She knew Nathan well enough to understand that he rarely struggled to find the right words. He usually said what needed to be said. So, she correctly guessed that his hesitation now was because he was trying to protect her feelings. Above all else, though, she'd rather hear the heart of the matter straight out, rather than have him dance around it, hoping it would somehow come to light on its own—though a dance sure sounded nice, she thought with a dreamy smile.
Nathan squeezed Elizabeth's hand with a full dose of love, offering a short but understanding nod, as if to say he appreciated her valuing his usual "to the point" pragmatism. Without any added pressure, his words now came easily.
"When we were in my office last week, after Oliver resigned, it felt like we were suddenly…at odds." His characteristic half-smile slipped onto his lips as he joked, "I guess we haven't figured out how to argue yet."
Though Nathan let out a soft chuckle, Elizabeth only offered a small smile in response, not yet understanding where this was going.
"Well, anyway," Nathan continued, clearing his throat. "The main problem I had is that regardless of whether we see eye to eye on something, I felt like I should say that…" He paused now, figuring this, if any, was the time to think more carefully about his words.
Looking into her expectant eyes, he admitted with a slow shrug, "...I was hurt to have you walk out like you did." Quickly giving her grace, as he always did, Nathan continued. "Maybe it's not something you'd be likely to do again. But the times it's happened before have unfortunately been memorable to me, and one of those was in that same office, so…"
Elizabeth gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief. "I'm so sorry," she said, quick to apologize. "I didn't realize…I can't believe I…Nathan, I'm…" Her eyes darted to Nathan's only for a split second before she slipped right onto his lap, hugging him closer to her, wanting him to know with absolute surety she'd never meant to hurt him.
In spite of himself, Nathan laughed softly. "'Lizabeth, slow down, sweetheart" he said calmly, brushing soothing strokes across her back. "This is just something to work through," he assured her. "I'm okay, truly."
Elizabeth pulled back instantly, reading his expression. Finding him looking quite at ease and nothing like the man she left in the Mountie office four years ago, she sighed with relief and fell into his arms, though she made no plan to leave his lap.
In a hushed and humbled tone, Elizabeth confessed, "I didn't even think of that, Nathan…which honestly kind of horrifies me." She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as she dropped her head in resignation. "I ran away again." Her heart grew even heavier as she remembered the awful way she'd reacted to her fear that morning at the climbing wall.
"'Lizabeth," Nathan said, his voice carrying a new, crisp, melodic lilt that jolted her from her remorse. Distracted from her thoughts momentarily, all she knew was that she had to find a way to bring that irresistible voice out of him again—in a new context, of course. Her heart was still fluttering at the sound.
Now that their eyes were locked, Elizabeth saw a glimmer of humor in his eyes. "Your words…you in my lap." A few laughs escaped Nathan's lips, that low rumble vibrating his affection—through him to her. "This is apology enough for me," he insisted, squeezing her close.
"Your walking out may not have felt great, but it wasn't as hurtful as what happened in the past. Granted, it was a small trigger for me, yes. But, mostly, I just want even our disagreements to feel as respectful as possible."
Nathan loved all the ways that fiery spark in Elizabeth manifested. Having come toe-to-toe just two weeks into their relationship, though, he realized that learning how to navigate these spirited moments was going to be essential.
"Can we promise to argue better next time?" he suggested, keeping the mood light with a raised eyebrow and his irresistible smile.
Elizabeth couldn't suppress the responsive smile that tugged at her lips, though there was a trace of frustration in her voice. "I just didn't know what else to do. You weren't listening to what I was saying."
"That's true," Nathan was quick to admit. "And I'm sorry for getting a little defensive." If anything, he'd simply been caught off guard by Elizabeth's strong opinions about someone he'd only thought of as his cadet until they'd eventually teamed up. "But in all fairness," he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace, "I don't think you were listening to me either."
After a thoughtful pause, Elizabeth met Nathan's gaze, her expression softening. "You're right," she said with a small sigh. "I could've done a better job of hearing you, too. I'm sorry for that." She gave him a gentle smile, her tone warm and sincere. "But yes, let's promise to do better."
An amused giggle escaped her as she realized they were clearly both expecting to disagree again—maybe even sooner than they thought. Despite Nathan's unshakable devotion, she couldn't help but admire his firm conviction. He wasn't easily swayed, even when it came to matters of loyalty, and she honestly loved him for that. After all, she hadn't even managed to get him to join the choir. Still, with his tendency to see the world in sharp, contrasting colors of right and wrong, paired with her own passionate intensity, it seemed only natural that their differences would occasionally clash—though she had no doubt they'd always find a way through.
"So…?" Nathan asked gently, inviting any suggestions for how to argue better next time.
For a few silent seconds, the two sat together, Elizabeth still nestled in his lap as they both thought. Elizabeth wasn't coming up with anything until she recognized just how much she knew about conflict resolution as a teacher.
"Well, when I'm handling arguments at school, I ask the children to summarize what the other person is saying before raising their own points. You know, to make sure there's a clear understanding of what's being said first?"
"Sounds great," Nathan replied, confident that Elizabeth would have some practical tips. After all, he reasoned, adults often deal with the same emotions and struggles as kids, and the solutions that work for them can be just as effective in the grown-up world.
Referring to Elizabeth's idea of reflecting back each other's opinions, Nathan added, "That would probably help the way you felt ignored before," he suggested. "But if you still feel like walking away, or either of us needs to step away for a bit to think—maybe we can call a 'recess?'" A sly smile tip-toed across Nathan's handsome face, followed by a playful gleam dancing in his eyes.
Elizabeth knew then and there, he was penning a new definition to the word, "recess." Remembering the "business" he'd wanted to discuss in his office the day they were unfortunately interrupted, Elizabeth asked with a hopeful grin, "What kind of recess did you have in mind, Constable?"
Catching her flirty tone, Nathan answered in kind. Leaning in closer, he whispered in her ear, his voice low and suggestive. "A time out, perhaps. Just me and the teacher."
"And if that doesn't work?" she asked, her heart fluttering at the way his rich timber drew her in.
"Well then, we'll have some make-up kisses to look forward to." Nathan moved in slowly by a matter of only millimeters until their lips, mirroring inviting smiles, were practically brushing. The magnetism in their eyes held them lingering in that well-known space of tension, pulled in by intimacy, yet hovering momentarily in their playful banter.
"Ah, I see," Elizabeth said, barely above a whisper. "A win-win either way."
"That's the kind of game I like to play," Nathan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he gave a subtler version of his characteristic head tilt, the movement almost imperceptible with their faces so close.
"We'll have to argue more often then," Elizabeth wisely reasoned. She'd hardly finished the "n" sound of "then," touching the tip of her tongue to the back of her teeth, before the magnetic pull of proximity became too great. In that final moment, the pull between them was undeniable—like two magnets finally meeting, their lips connecting with an electrifying certainty.
With loving intent, they settled their new plan for disagreements with several charged kisses, each one longer than the last.
Author's Notes:
This was a long one, I know, but Nathan and Elizabeth just started talking and they kept going deeper in usual fashion! ;-) Thanks for reading, and you'd like, read on to the much shorter Chapter 21: Their Incomprehensible "This" for the last chapter in this multi-chapter release.
First, I thought it was an insightful observation that Instagram's Hope Valley Guy made. Although a big fan of Elizabeth, he was frustrated that, even now as a couple with Nathan, she so quickly walked out of an argument with him, continuing a pattern that wasn't going to be great for their future. So, it was therapeutic to address that in the early phase of their relationship knowing more disagreements will arise with some of their differing views.
As for Nathan's journal entry…this took quite a lot of work.
If you get a chance, I think it's a sweet experience watching back that inquiry scene and the hug afterwards now having in mind a possible backstory from Nathan's journal.
It took a fair amount of thought to understand what Nathan might've been thinking during the investigation of S8 E4. On the one hand, his heart had just been broken when Elizabeth rode away in E2 after he confessed to being in love with her. Yet, with all the love he'd felt between them, he would've naturally been confused and perhaps, still a little hopeful since at that point they hadn't even re-connected to talk through that pivotal moment, something he naturally would've expected as a man who was willing to fight for love.
From his perspective, Elizabeth had essentially admitted her own love in pairing her "I can't" with one of her explanations being, "It would hurt too much if I lost you the way I lost Jack." Since Nathan had offered to quit the Mounties, which would've solved that worry in theory, I can imagine it didn't make sense to him that she still rode away. So, I think, while heartbroken, Nathan still had a degree of hope that week after, thinking that with more time or with him changing professions that being together might still be a possibility…if only they could come back together and talk through what they felt.
With the inquiry, though, he got pulled away, and, so, he was left just to analyze as we know he'd do as a Mountie, especially when it came to the all important matters of the heart. Once Elizabeth showed up for him at the investigation and he could feel the way their eyes and hearts spoke afterwards, I believe that evidence would've strengthened Nathan's belief that her "I can't" wasn't a "never."
But, between E4 and E5 something clearly happened because as Nathan came quickly to Elizabeth's house after he read her letter, he mentions that they still hadn't spoken and the tension was noticeably icy, not at all like the warmth seen between them in E4. So, my guess, in filling in the gaps, is that Nathan realized Elizabeth wasn't just holding off on him. Instead, her saying "I can't" was in tandem with an "I can" to Lucas. That, I think, is what infuriated Nathan. I believe after E4 he was ready to talk more and to accept that maybe more time was needed. But seeing Lucas enter the picture so quickly, I imagine, felt like a betrayal, accompanied by a startling realization that maybe her "I can't" really did mean forever.
So, in my mind, after Nathan's journal entry about the inquiry, his writings would've immediately gone very dark, diving deeper into heartache and frustration and loss. When he finished reading to Elizabeth his hesitatingly hopeful words the night after the investigation ended, Nathan didn't elaborate how quickly his journal became a place for grieving thoughts, as he soon recognized that she was knowingly walking step by step toward Lucas, a man at the time who Nathan deeply disliked. But not every journal entry written by Nathan or Elizabeth would've been helpful to share. Some were meant to be left in the past, especially considering they were ready to look to their future, rather than continually dropping back to the struggles and heartache of their past.