Although there are various stories of mine I'd love to see play out on screen, I truly hope the struggle we see in this chapter is explored through one of our beloved WCTH characters at some point in an upcoming season. I was deeply impressed with the Higgins storyline as well as Allie's plot with Dylan. We've seen WCTH cover meaningful real life issues. So with a similar and intentional approach, I know they'd do justice to a topic that is rarely addressed, often suffered through in silence, and, unfortunately, regularly viewed with judgment.
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Chapter 11: The Climb
"Where's that harness?" Elizabeth asked in exasperation, standing with the rope in her hand.
It only took a moment, though, before she remembered all that went down once she'd been lowered off the wall. Sheepishly, she walked over to the rock where she'd wriggled out of the harness in anger, and where Nathan had sweetly supported her in removing her helmet.
Returning to where he stood now, beneath the granite crag, she handed him the harness.
"Lizabeth, the single loop is fine for me," Nathan reassured her. "It's been done forever. I'm used to it. It's simple, it's quick."
"But, you said you chose the harness because you wanted me to 'be safe,'" Elizabeth insisted.
Nathan inwardly groaned at his earlier word choice. "That's true, of course, sweetheart, but really it was more about you feeling safe. For this type of climb, the single loop is plenty safe."
"Here, I'll help," Elizabeth said, not at all dissuaded. She took the harness back from him and lowered herself, holding one loop hole open for him to easily step into.
Nathan eyed her with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Even if he were to use the harness, he imagined she knew he could figure this out for himself, seeing as he'd just instructed her on these very steps.
Since Nathan hadn't yet budged, Elizabeth looked up to see why. Reading his skeptical expression, she asked, "What? I know how it feels being the one to wear it. You said you'd only ever used a single loop."
Nathan raised his eyebrow as a half a smile followed suit. "I think you're the one with an ulterior motive, Lizbeth," he teased, remembering their tantalizing proximity while roping up. Maybe there was a hint of truth to that, Elizabeth thought. But really, she just needed him to be safe, as safe as possible.
Looping the harness around her arm, she stood and met Nathan's gaze, lifting both of his hands into hers. "Nathan, I'm trying," she said softly, "But I'm scared to do this. I don't want to let you up there with me as your only lifeline," she added, still under the assumption that the harness would vastly improve his safety." I know you believe in me. It's just—"
"'Lizbeth, I trust you," Nathan insisted, his thumb brushing across hers, "with my life." To prove this, he told her, "I'd feel more confident climbing with you beneath me than any trained Mountie."
Elizabeth didn't have to say anything. Nathan saw the disbelief in the way she pulled back, her hesitation more telling than words. Releasing one hand, he gently tipped her chin up so he could see perfectly into her eyes. "I know you'll watch me," he said with certainty, the love evident in her eyes, "more intently than any Mountie would."
"I will Nathan, of course I will, I promise," Elizabeth said, her words tumbling out in a rush.
Hearing the confidence in her own voice made Elizabeth see his perspective more clearly. Not for one split second would she take her eyes off Nathan if she was his safety. But at the thought of that weighty word, one that regularly haunted her, she stared back at her sweetheart, a flicker of fear in her eyes, and whispered with desperation, "I just need you to be safe."
Although Nathan could rattle off all the reasons this climb for him was just like strolling down the path in front of their rowhouses, he knew the importance of feeling safe.
So, looking forward to the high points of the harness, namely the proximity to Elizabeth Thornton, he squeezed her hand and announced, "All right. Harness me up."
Nathan watched Elizabeth breathe a sigh of relief, and he knew he'd made the right decision.
Since Elizabeth had been the only one of the two to have ever worn a harness, she knew the tricky points in getting it on. Bending down again, she held each loop open as Nathan stepped into the harness. Then, as he held one side, and she helped with the other, both lifted the tied off ropes. In rising from ankle up, Elizabeth had never quite noticed the length of Nathan's legs as she did now, nor had she truly appreciated their strength.
Unaware that she'd stopped with her side of the rope mid-thigh on Nathan's lengthy frame, he caught her gaze, grinned, and said, "Why didn't I say yes to this in the first place?"
Standing there beside him, Elizabeth couldn't help but blush, knowing she'd been caught in her thoughts about a certain constable. "Why, indeed?" she asked, her heart instantly awhirl. Although she guided her loop a little higher, eventually she took a step back, allowing him the final adjustments.
"Hmmmm…" she said, eyeing the harness as Nathan slid the ropes into place with comparative ease. "That worked better for you than me." She remembered all too well the wriggling it took for her to get the harness in place.
Without saying a word, Nathan's eyes glanced down to the curve of her hips and her eyes followed, quickly realizing what was likely crossing his mind. She raised her eyebrows. He tilted his head. And an understanding was communicated loud and clear, with some lingering thoughts bringing smiles to both.
Taking Elizabeth's hand in his, they walked toward the rock wall. "I'll teach you all you need to know, alright?" He gave her hand a supportive squeeze before he lowered it to pick up the rope.
Having taught the technique a hundred times, Nathan explained how to belay and the importance of keeping one hand always on the dead rope. The moment those words, "dead rope," passed through his lips, he cursed himself, frustrated that he hadn't thought to change up the typical terms. He bustled on ahead, hoping she hadn't noticed.
"The dead rope?"
But clearly she'd noticed.
"Sorry," Nathan apologized with a sheepish smile, as if it were his fault for the morbid name.
"So what's this end called?" she quickly quipped, holding up the rope he'd placed in her other hand. "The live rope?" she asked sarcastically, as if making a joke.
"Exactly!" Nathan chuckled. Elizabeth's disgruntled look said it all. "I know, I know. Terrible terms. So let's move on. Forget I ever said those words! Name the two ropes whatever you want."
"How about Nathan and Elizabeth?" she cheekily responded.
"Now, that's one I haven't heard before," he laughed, amused at how often she surprised him.
As Elizabeth held the newly renamed rope ends, one in each hand, Nathan explained how to "feed" the rope and how that related to the balance between giving the climber slack and support depending on their speed and the challenge of any particular section.
Last, but not least, Nathan focused on Elizabeth's posture, which turned out to be nearly as enticing as helping her into the harness. With this instruction, as he described her center of gravity, her leg stance, and her hand positioning, he allowed a brush of his hand here or there to guide her position. After leading her through a few fall practices, they were ready. Or, at least, he was. As for Elizabeth, she was only as ready as she'd ever be.
Right before Nathan placed his first handhold on the rock wall, Elizabeth gave him a quick hug. "I couldn't resist," she explained. Then, moving back into position, she uttered one final, "Nathan, be safe, please."
Nathan wanted to return her hug with a kiss, both for support and simply because she looked so darn beautiful in her climbing clothes. But knowing that in this moment, she was fighting every possible distraction, ready to focus entirely on his safety, he instead offered only words of encouragement.
"Don't worry, 'Lizbeth. I trust your instincts…" His eyes twinkled with his usual humble charm.
"Remember?" He asked, referencing several moments they'd connected over this point.
Elizabeth smiled outwardly, but the tension in her figure remained unchanged.
"Here we go," Nathan announced, grateful and surprised that after all the mess of the morning, they'd still landed here—Nathan climbing, and Elizabeth belaying.
"WAIT!" Elizabeth suddenly cried out, catching a glimpse of the rope burn across his palm.
"What about my hands? Should I wear my gloves? Will they help me grip better?"
Nathan could already feel her panic rising. He walked over beside her, and put a loving hand on her shoulder. "'Lizabeth, you're beyond sweet to belay me, thinking this," he said, holding up his injured hand, "might be in your future. But, I promise, this won't happen to you, my love."
He could read in her questioning eyes that her worry wasn't as much on her hands as her ability to hold him up if he fell. Although Nathan had been reluctant to explain exactly why that rope burn was there, not wanting to stir the embers, he figured the truth might actually be settling now.
"It wasn't the fall itself that caused this burn, sweetheart. It was the friction of holding it taut for so long—and that's something you won't experience with me. If I slip, I'm used to that feeling and will be back on the wall before you know it."
Elizabeth's hand shot out and tightly gripped his forearm, suddenly terrified at the idea of Nathan slipping and her being his lifeline. With an understanding heart, Nathan gently covered her delicate hand with his and assured her as best as he could without making any promises, knowing that sometimes set her off.
"My best guess, 'Lizabeth, after hundreds of climbs, is that I'll be just fine. Trust me," he said, his voice steady. Then, after a pause, he added with a softer certainty, "Afterall, I trust you."
Elizabeth stared into his confident blue eyes, as if letting herself be filled with his assurance. Slowly she lightened her grip on his arm, nodded, and offered a weak smile. Though naturally nervous, she reminded herself that all it took was one look to know Nathan Grant would be "just fine."
She couldn't help but notice the harness securely fastened around his legs and waist, drawing attention to his muscular frame. Having shed his navy peacoat, he was now just in his button-down shirt and suspenders, stretched across his powerful build. If that visual wasn't evidence enough, Nathan casually undid another couple of buttons beyond his usual two for added ventilation, revealing even more of the strength beneath, a strength she'd been lucky enough to see—and feel—in the past.
Her thoughts willingly drifted to the intimate hour of their last date, where Nathan had indulged her shy request to unbutton the same number, for a total of four. That opened his shirt just enough for her hands to freely roam across his bare chest. While that unfortunately wasn't a moment they were likely to repeat until married, it was an experience that beautifully supported all the emotional stretching Nathan especially had done that night.
As Nathan fiddled with his carabiner, the clank of the metal snapped Elizabeth back to the present moment. She studied him thoroughly—this impeccable man—and with each detail, her nerves seemed to settle, replaced by a quiet reassurance.
If anyone epitomized the rugged outdoorsman capable of tackling a 35-foot climb, it was Nathan Grant. More importantly, Elizabeth knew he had the skills and expertise, as a Mountie, to back up that convincing physique.
Now, while Nathan made his final adjustments, she actually felt something new bubbling up inside of her—excitement. No wonder he liked climbing, she thought. "Okay, "I'm ready," she announced, with a smile that fully supported that claim.
"You look ready," Nathan responded, his eyes gleaming, seeing her settled low in position just as he'd instructed. "So much so that we'd better put the climbing jargon to good use." After explaining the typical words used before a climb, Nathan looked at Elizabeth and asked, "On belay?" to which she expertly answered, "Belay on!"
With her brake hand firmly gripping the "Nathan" rope, with all her strength as well as her heart, Elizabeth's attention never wavered. She'd never focused so intently on anything as she did Nathan's climbing form, her blue eyes locked on him, unflinching. Blinking was a luxury she couldn't afford; each second, each movement, was critical. Any Mountie would've recognized it, just as Nathan had said—her dedication exceeded that of a trained belayer, heart and soul anchored in her role as his support, his lifeline.
In only a few moves, Nathan quickly realized that, despite her best intentions, Elizabeth had internalized the support element a bit too well from his belaying demonstration. Instead of giving him the necessary slack, she was holding the rope too tightly, her nervousness inadvertently restricting his movement.
"More slack, please," Nathan called down, his voice strained as he tried to adjust his grip.
Elizabeth's instinct to keep him safe was admirable, but in her tight hold, she was limiting his ability to climb with the freedom and speed he needed. The tension in the rope, while meant to protect, had the opposite effect—making each movement just a little harder than it should've been.
Listening closely to his request, Elizabeth quickly adjusted, feeding the rope through her guide hand. The slack she provided allowed Nathan to move more freely, while the rope remained steady and controlled in her grasp. She didn't just watch him out of necessity anymore, to keep him safe; she was captivated by his strength, speed, and skill as he scaled the rock face. For the remainder of the climb, Elizabeth was both his protector and his admirer.
Although this was by no means a time to be chatty, if it had been, Elizabeth would've been speechless. It was impossible to believe that what she was seeing was real. Her eyes were wide, fixed on Nathan's every move, searching for even the slightest hint of uncertainty. But as he climbed, her mouth slowly fell open, stunned by the fluid precision of each move—like something out of a perfectly choreographed routine.
Where she'd hemmed and hawed between each position, his movements streamed together as if in a dance. His eyes constantly scanned ahead, seeking the next grip, while his feet, firm and steady, pushed him upward with a rhythm born of years of experience. It was almost as if he were a part of the mountain itself, moving upward as if he'd done so a thousand times before—something Elizabeth reasoned might very well be true.
Nathan cruised through the challenging section where she'd slipped, effortlessly moving past it. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice how he'd chosen exactly the path he'd advised her to take: reaching for the stable, less obvious hold instead of overstretching for the more comfortable one. A wise choice, Nathan Grant, she thought, now fully understanding just how much that single move mattered in reaching the top, where, no doubt, the best view awaited.
Only moments away from completing the climb, Nathan thought of the two clear packages he'd placed atop the crest of the cliff the day before, when he was testing the various routes with Bill's help. This symbolic reward meant individually for each of them had required two unusual errands the week prior—first to the cafe and then to the mercantile.
Months ago, Nathan had chosen not to gamble with what had quickly become a valuable chocolate Easter egg. After Elizabeth's memorable slip, one they both thoroughly enjoyed, he'd returned the original candy egg to its obscure perch high on the trellis. But, unbeknownst to Elizabeth, he'd kept an additional chocolate egg for himself, just in case an adventurous child—or a sneaky adult (Bill, most likely)—decided to claim the very one that had come to represent the delicate balance of risk and reward in their potential relationship.
Even while climbing, Nathan smiled at the memory of Elizabeth's coy remark when he'd delivered the pivotal chocolate egg to her that night. "I guess sometimes a chocolate egg is worth the risk." The spark when their hands brushed. The look in her eyes. She wasn't talking about candy. From that moment on, their relationship unfolded, each quiet moment of connection adding to the growing fire, until all those sparks converged into the blazing warmth of where they stood now.
With the clear application of all this climb symbolized—the risk, the trust, the reward—Nathan had thought it the perfect moment to finally give Elizabeth the chocolate egg he'd kept as a backup. But this time, thanks to Minnie's sharp culinary knife, he was offering her only half. At the mercantile, no questions asked—though certainly thought—Ned wrapped the two halves separately in fresh foil and placed one each in the two cellophane sleeves.
The one half was intended for Elizabeth to have found on her climb. The other half would be his—their two halves, meant to be retrieved separately…each step in their two symbolic climbs bringing them closer to being made whole. At least, that's how it was supposed to go.
As Nathan crested the edge of the cliff, he swung his legs beneath him and stood at the top, momentarily steadying himself on the rock. Below, he heard Elizabeth's voice, filled with pride and relief as she cheered him on. He glanced down, waving, and even from nearly forty feet above, he could see the warmth in her eyes, that unmistakable sparkle of affection.
Turning his attention first to the expansive view and then to the ground, Nathan picked up the half of the egg that had been waiting for him, carefully wrapped in cellophane. He turned it over and over in his hand, the chocolate reminding him of the balance of risk versus trust they were apparently still navigating. He sighed as his gaze settled on the other half, still perched on the ledge. The intention had been clear—this climb, this gesture, had symbolized the idea of their two halves coming together as one, a unified commitment built on complete trust, a sign that they were finally ready to rely on each other, equally and fully.
The combined reward of their two halves would've been a sweet, tangible reminder of their deepening covenant to each other. But something held Nathan back from taking hers down. He worried that it might send her into another spiral of feeling inadequate, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. She, Elizabeth Thornton, had just belayed him through the climb, giving him slack when he needed it, allowing him the freedom to move at his own pace. For that, and for so much more, he loved her beyond words.
So, Nathan left the other half up there, untouched. Sometimes, you reach for the stars, he thought, and while you might not make it all the way, the view you get is still better than anything you could've imagined.
That's how he felt now as he glanced over the edge, seeing Elizabeth below, still clinging to the "Nathan" rope. Even though he was firmly planted on the ground, no longer climbing, she was still there for him—steadfast and supportive, in both the big moments and the small. And that, more than anything, was what he needed most for now. Beyond that, he was learning to be patient, understanding that, together as a couple, they were a work in progress.
Poised and ready in her belay stance, Elizabeth wasn't sure what was taking Nathan so long. She imagined he was soaking in the view, and, in a way, didn't want to rush him. But the truth was, she couldn't wait to have him back beside her, safe and sound. The thought of wrapping her arms around Nathan again was like a vision of heaven, a hug she longed for with every fiber of her being, a moment where she could rest her head against his chest and feel, as much as hear, his heartbeat.
But then, with the thought of "down," panic instantly surged through her, pulling her back into the reality of the climb.
"NATHAN!" she screamed up to him, in sudden fright. "You didn't teach me anything about getting you down!"
"Not to worry, sweetheart!" he said, quickly tucking the chocolate egg deep into his pocket. He leaned out to where she could see him and assured her, "I'll manage just fine. You don't have to do anything new. Just watch and keep your brake hand ready."
"Oh, there's no way I'm taking my eyes off you, Nathan Grant!" she called out, her words carrying an additional layered meaning beyond "just rocking climbing."
In a series of seamless steps, Nathan walked over the ledge, and Elizabeth gasped in both fear and surprise as he effortlessly rappelled down, each leap carrying him down the rock wall with the precision and ease of a seasoned climber. In half a dozen bounds, he was at her side.
She stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head with a smile, and teased, "Show off," her eyes dancing with a mix of admiration and playful affection.
Nathan stood tall above her, his gaze locking with hers as he leaned in slightly, lowering his head to meet her eyes. A flirty smile tugged at his lips as he murmured, "Only for you, my love," his warmth evident in both his smile and his voice.
Although Nathan's captivating blue eyes held her attention for a good while, Elizabeth's focus inevitably drifted to where he was still wonderfully unbuttoned by a count of four—an extra two buttons liberated in order to allow more ventilation during his climb, and now drawing her gaze in a way that completely distracted her.
In the excitement of the moment, though, Nathan was oblivious to both his open shirt and the effect it was having on Elizabeth. Instead, he threw a congratulatory arm around her, and cheered her on with heartfelt praise. "You did it 'Lizbeth!"
"Nathan …" her voice low and gently scolding, "you're the one who did the climb."
"Maybe, but this is old hat for me," he told her, casting off all acclaim for himself. "You were the support, 'Lizbeth!" With a gratitude he hardly could express, he spoke softly, "I knew you were watching."
"Well, I'll admit," Elizabeth smirked, "it was a great view from the bottom." Before she could filter the thought, her words tumbled out, "I only wish I had another hand for my binoculars." Her eyes grew wide, hardly believing she'd just said that. But, then again, this man ran her thoughts wild, and she was finding it more and more difficult to withhold what she felt just as much as thought, particularly staring his four open buttons in the face.
To Elizabeth's surprise, Nathan countered with "You know, I thought the same thing when you were the one climbing." Then, clarifying he added, "Not about the binoculars, but the view." The two exchanged knowing glances before Nathan readily confessed. "I can honestly say I've never enjoyed belaying more."
Still riding the adrenaline, their words flowed more freely and their smiles stretched from ear to ear. But, as silence fell between them, and their heartbeats gradually slowed, they were left with the memories of the morning—and the significance of what had just transpired.
The world around them seemed to fade as they stood transfixed, reading each other's emotions through the windows of their clear blue eyes. What they saw and felt was the binding weight of connection. The invisible string loosely tying them together since Jack's death, and possibly even before, had become a tangible rope, tethering them together in a maturing trust.
Now, the growing strength of their connection pulled them together like a magnetic force. Nathan stepped forward, arms open, and Elizabeth, feeling like she'd done some penance in learning to belay for him, walked toward Nathan. Slowly they wrapped their arms around each other, squeezing tightly until their hearts met. In that moment all the hurt, embarrassment, disappointment, and anger melted away, replaced by an ever-deepening, impenetrable love, infused with a new level of commitment.
Their first intimate step since their morning of conflict was this emotional hug, an embrace holding both comfort and understanding. Pulling away just enough for their lips to lovingly renew their affection, Nathan and Elizabeth exchanged a few tender kisses, each one soft and slow, like a heartfelt promise to heal together.
Feeling newly safe with Nathan, imperfections and all, Elizabeth expressed her gratitude with a humility that came from deep within. "Thank you, Nathan—for being so patient and forgiving. I'm truly sorry I messed up your date." She pulled him close, into another affectionate hug. As her cheek brushed his bare skin and settled against his chest, Nathan's sharp intake suggested he now remembered the four buttons as well. Still, neither budged, relishing in this tender treasure of unexpected intimacy.
After a few indulgent moments, savoring the warmth of their shared connection, Elizabeth felt a rush of excitement once again with what they'd just accomplished together.
Nathan couldn't see the smile that filled Elizabeth's face, but skin to skin, he could feel the shift as her cheek raised and the edge of her lips lingered against his chest. In response, his heart instantly swelled with a love so overwhelming, he was certain Elizabeth could feel the quiet expansion of his chest. For a fleeting moment, he experienced her smile, a memory that would long be imprinted not only in his mind but forever in his heart.
Just as he wondered what motivated that smile, Elizabeth offered an altered opinion with new understanding. "I can see why you chose rock climbing now." Then, after her smile drifted to a smirk, she teased, "I can almost admit to that being fun…the belaying part, anyway. You really are incredible to watch, Nathan," she gushed, the admiration in her voice evident. Unexpectedly, regret about her failed climb suddenly pricked at her heart, and any feel of a smile faded.
Nathan angled his head slightly, intent on seeing Elizabeth's expression. What he saw was a woman who'd transformed dramatically in just one morning—from bailing after a slip and reacting in anger to belaying solely for him and finding joy in it. She'd undeniably balanced their seesaw with her act of selflessness.
As Elizabeth pulled back to meet Nathan's gaze, she saw in his eyes an equal measure of admiration. "You don't know how strong you are, 'Lizbeth," he said softly.
Immediately those words echoed back in his own mind, taunting him with the weight of what he was silently struggling to overcome. A sharp stab of guilt pierced Nathan's chest, followed by a rush of shame—ironically, right where Elizabeth had just imprinted her smile. The sudden pain took him by surprise, and he let out an involuntary gasp, the air catching in his lungs as his heart constricted with a tightness that had nothing to do with their intimate moment.
Nearly under his breath, his voice faltered as he added, "And you don't know how human I am, either."
Elizabeth was caught off guard by the abrupt change in Nathan's countenance as well as his stifled breath. Thinking it might simply be a flash of insecurity, an occasional friend of hers, she leaned in to offer him more encouragement.
"I don't know, Constable," Elizabeth spouted off, her term of endearment a telling indicator for her own rapidly healing heart. With a look of adoration, she exclaimed, "You didn't look very human just now—especially bounding down half bird, half mountain goat!"
Nathan glanced at Elizabeth and gave her a half-hearted smile, appreciating her intentional efforts. But, the more she praised his capacity, the heavier his burden became, weighed down by a secret he'd somehow managed to keep from her for nearly a month now.
Trying to deflect attention, Nathan diverted his eyes, fully aware that Elizabeth could read him far too easily now. Instead, his gaze settled back on the cliff, and he remembered how he used to navigate simpler crags like this one in his younger years.
"You may not like hearing this," he said, forcing a chuckle, attempting to snap himself out of his darkened mood, "but as a boy I used to solo climb."
"You're right. I don't like hearing that." Elizabeth teased, playing along, though still concerned. "I'm guessing those days are long past, I hope?" Though the question was asked, she already knew the answer. Of course Nathan wouldn't take on any unnecessary risk with Allie in his life.
"After my dad left for the second time," Nathan began, offering some background, "I realized I felt safest relying only on myself." He paused, shrugging lightly. "Kind of ironic, isn't it?" he asked, laughing softly, finding his way back to usual self.
"Being tied to a rope, trusting it, trusting someone, felt far too risky. Without the rope, I knew what to expect. Even if it seemed riskier, I at least knew it was all up to me."
He exhaled slowly. "That mental space was far easier to manage than hoping someone else might be there and actually do what was needed in the moment to keep me safe."
Nathan glanced back up at the rock wall, still able to relate to why he felt safer free climbing. "So, I'd regularly do routes like this…untethered."
Elizabeth lightly shook her head at him, a mix of awe and sadness at the thought of a teenaged Nathan, up on a wall like that, alone. Yet, she considered the irony that just moments ago, this man who was wanting to connect, wanting to rely on her, clearly brushed over something, trying to manage on his own rather than letting her in. Maybe he's upset about something with his father, Elizabeth reasoned—his declining health, perhaps, or even an argument over the phone. It seemed logical since their conversation veered that direction soon after Nathan's uncharacteristic mood swing. She looked at him closely now, surprised that despite the brief blip, nothing appeared to be weighing on him at that moment.
Nathan smiled, noting the way Elizabeth's chestnut curls brushed against her cheeks, and how her blue eyes invited him to see every thought and feeling of her heart. He felt the love in her expression just now, and knew those emotions in her gaze were entirely for him. What an interesting shift, he thought—foregoing the rope, fearful of trusting anyone with his life, to needing the rope, longing to trust Elizabeth with the entirety of his heart. Although, if spoken, it wouldn't seem like a particularly romantic line, but he felt a sense of wonder in realizing now how much he was aching to be tethered to this woman the rest of his life.
He reached out and gently lifted both of Elizabeth's hands into his, seeking out additional touch by sweeping his thumbs slowly across her soft skin. "Thank you for belaying me today, 'Lizabeth. I think I really needed this climb," he said quietly, his eyes conveying more than his words ever could. "Not for the technical challenge," he added with a humble smile, acknowledging his skill. "But to remind myself that I'm ready to let go of only trusting myself. And it just so happens," he continued, with a sly grin, "that it took an extraordinary woman to lead me to where I am now."
"Oh really?" Elizabeth asked in mock surprise. "Why don't you tell me a little more about this woman. Maybe I know her," she suggested with a smirk.
Nathan laughed, endeared by the banter they often threw back and forth. "Well, she's…"
But, that's as far as Nathan got before his smile suddenly faded. As all light drained from his face, he sighed deeply and dropped his head.
'Lizbeth, I need to tell you something," Nathan said, almost in a whisper, his tone shifting from playful to serious in a single heartbeat.
He hated the idea of adding any more drama to their date. Yet, he knew this would be an impossible conversation to fit into their day-to-day lives, where interruptions were as abundant as leaves in a windstorm. And they knew windstorms. So, he begrudgingly accepted that the time for this dreaded conversation was now.
Nathan squeezed Elizabeth's hands before lifting his eyes again to find hers. Seeing the worry already etched in her beautiful face, he nearly changed his mind. But, in all honesty, it was only a matter of time until she found out.
"Can we sit?" Nathan asked, motioning to a rock.
As a free climber, and later as a Mountie, Nathan had never been one to shy away from danger, that is until Allie came along. Merely out of concern for her welfare, he'd modified some of his riskier tendencies. But fear had found him in the form of Elizabeth.
Once at the designated rock, Nathan gestured for Elizabeth to get settled first, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air between them. As the two settled across from each other, their knees turned inward until they touched and then their eyes met—hers filled with quiet expectation, his searching for the right words, but a momentary rush of reluctance gripped him, making it hard to know where to begin.
It was difficult to find the words, to tell the very person he loved immeasurably how debilitated he'd been at the thought of losing her. Though hesitant, embarrassed, and even ashamed, Nathan explained the recurring flashbacks he'd been having since the night she'd been taken hostage. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to trigger Elizabeth's fear she'd finally managed to navigate.
Elizabeth ached for this burden Nathan had been carrying. Never had she been so aware of the distinction between Constable Nathan Grant and the man beneath the serge. She wanted to be there for him, in ways she hadn't yet known how to be for Jack. Now, more intimately acquainted with fear, irrational thought, grief, and loss, she fortunately felt more equipped, though at a painful cost.
Validating Nathan's experience, Elizabeth spoke softly, "Nathan what we went through together is unimaginable. It makes all the sense in the world that it's not something you just 'get over.'" She tenderly touched his cheek, gently guiding his head until his haunted eyes met hers. "Facing this for what it is takes courage. As much as you want to share, I'm ready to hear."
Sensing this was an easier conversation for him without direct eye contact, she looped her hand through his arm and rested her head against his shoulder. Through intimately knowing this man's selfless heart, she further supported him by addressing any hesitancy he'd feel based on her own struggles with fear.
"And please, Nathan, don't worry about me," she said, offering a loving squeeze. "I've fought my own demons, I know, but fortunately," she said with a single laugh laced in irony, "life didn't deal us the same set of monsters."
Settled against Nathan's sturdy frame, Elizabeth felt the slow movements of his nod, acknowledging her words. Not wanting to pressure him to open up, she let her earlier comments do the talking, supporting him now only in silence and touch.
Eventually, Nathan began sharing about the harrowing night at the saloon. "After we jumped…" he started, referring to their leap off the balcony, "what I remember first in the hay was the feel of you, your hand on my arm, your leg against mine." Nathan's voice was soft and quiet. "In my head, I couldn't make sense of it. But, when I opened my eyes and saw you smiling at me…the relief I felt I can't even describe. You being safe was all that mattered. Then when I lowered you from the hay, there was something different. I didn't feel settled anymore."
"Hmmmm…" Elizabeth murmured in response. "Have you continued to feel that way?"
"Yes and no."
Although Nathan didn't launch into any explanation, Elizabeth waited, not wanting to rush his preferred pacing.
"It's not really something I understand. I'll be going about my day as usual and then suddenly, it's like the past is the present and I'm reliving those scenes in the saloon over and over again. I keep thinking it will get better or go away, but even all these weeks later," he admitted, "it's still happening, the same image on repeat, with the worst possible ending."
Nathan didn't dare speak it, but he saw it even now, as if outside the scene himself. Only seconds after making the most gut-wrenching decision of his life, he tore up the saloon stairs in complete panic after hearing two gunshots, only to find the other half of his heart already gone.
From the corner of his eye, he always saw the perpetrator running away below, using the hay wagon as a means to escape. But that mess of a man never mattered in the scene. It was only Elizabeth. With no thought for himself, or the mayhem below, he'd gather her lifeless form into his arms, pulling her to him with all his strength, desperate for her silent heart to be revived by his. But, as nothing ever changed, his own heart pounded so fiercely with pain that he'd just hold her tight and sob into his torturous new reality. He'd lost her. Only this time, forever. And it was his fault.
Even without hearing words, Elizabeth could see the agony in his eyes. "Oh, Nathan!" Elizabeth's breath caught, her hand instinctively reaching for his, as though the touch might ease the burden of his pain.
Longing to help somehow, she considered asking him to elaborate, wondering if talking through the memory or perhaps reframing it might help. But, then doubt crept in. She didn't want to press him and potentially make things worse by triggering the trauma to resurface.
Nathan didn't have to hear Elizabeth's question to know what was on her mind.
"Thousands of times I've had to watch that criminal force you up the stairs and out of my sight, out of the reach of my protection." He ran his hands through his hair and then down his face before looking away and taking a stabilizing breath, hoping to calm his rising fear as he heard the gunshots in his mind again.
"I feel so helpless," he barely whispered. Elizabeth solemnly noticed the verb tense he chose, the subtle shift in his words revealing that the emotions of that night weren't confined to the past, but were very much alive in the present.
"No matter how many times that scene plays out, I can't ever figure out…" Nathan trailed off, his voice tightening as his jaw clenched. He shook his head slowly, his gaze turning up to the sky, hoping to hold back his tears and trying anything to escape the relentless pull of that memory.
Moments later, he looked back at her—regret, sadness, and terror flickering in his tormented blue eyes. "I let you out of my sight, Elizabeth… with a gun to your back." His voice cracked, the weight of that confession sinking in as the guilt hit him like a physical blow. He shifted, the emotional tension spilling into his physical frame. Moving his forearms to his thighs, he leaned forward, turning his gaze downward, taking a slow, steadying breath.
Now it was Elizabeth who felt helpless, torn as she witnessed Nathan's suffering. Alarmed and bewildered, she couldn't believe what was happening. They'd talked about this before, only because Nathan insisted on explaining, several times over, why he hadn't intervened as she'd been forced up the stairs. Despite his desperation in the moment, he held fast to his instincts, knowing that the one thing he could control was keeping Jeanette unarmed.
Before sneaking into the saloon that night, Nathan had learned she was the ringleader—the one calling the shots. His intuition, honed through years of experience, told him that Jeanette's thug wouldn't dare make a move against Elizabeth unless she gave the command. Plus, with the saloon's layout etched in his mind, he knew there was nowhere to run, and that backup was only moments away.
In a time span measured in split seconds, he'd expertly assessed all the factors, leading to a choice that apparently now felt questionable. Now, he was being tortured by the unrelenting "what ifs." But Nathan knew, without a doubt, that she trusted his instincts—and she believed, too, that in the moment, it had been the best decision.
How had he kept this from her for so long? she thought. Her heartsick eyes fell on this man she loved more than the stars in the sky. What could she say, what could she do, to ease his burden, she prayed fervently.
Her first thought was to place a comforting hand on his arm, a silent promise that she was right beside him, ready to shoulder whatever was necessary to get him through this nightmare of flashbacks, panic, and crushing guilt. But, instead, her instincts unexpectedly drove her to his lap, an intimate place where she hoped to offer solace not only in her words, but in the proximity of her presence as well.
"Nathan," she spoke softly, careful not to startle him, yet hoping that hearing his name would be enough to draw him back from the darkness of his thoughts. When Nathan's head turned to the sound of her voice, Elizabeth gently lifted his arm off his leg, creating a small opening, and with a tender voice, she said, "Let me be with you." Silently he lifted his chest, making room as she sat on his lap, her legs draped across his.
Elizabeth shifted, snuggling close against him. "I know my words can't solve this, sweetheart. But, even beneath the serge, you're a protector, Nathan. So, I can understand why you'd question your decision. But, I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that you are in no way to blame. You made the best choice, and Bill would say the same."
"But, if I would've lost you, 'Lizbeth…" Nathan choked on the words, stifling a sob. He wasn't sure where the surge of emotion was coming from, but it hit him all at once, like standing beneath a dam that had just burst. The floodwaters of his fear and grief overwhelmed him, crashing through with no way to hold them back.
"Things could've gone terribly wrong," he whispered, his voice strained and his heart racing. He pulled Elizabeth tightly to him, clinging to her as if her presence was the only thing keeping him anchored.
Without thinking, Elizabeth started to rock back and forth, almost imperceptibly, as if the motion itself was an instinctive response to his pain. While he held tightly to her, she made small brushstrokes with her arms on his back. "I never told you this Nathan, but I'm telling you now because I want you to know you're not alone in what you're feeling. Last year, there was a time where I was crippled by fear for you, too."
With Elizabeth so close, Nathan's breathing began to mirror hers, subconsciously syncing with the rhythm of her chest rising and falling. Gradually, his breath steadied, and with it, his heart. Though his mind still churned, less frantically now, it struggled to catch up—trying to make sense of what Elizabeth might be alluding to, though it soon became clear.
"I came across your telegram by accident, about there being problems up in Rock Creek. Only moments later, I heard about a Mountie being taken hostage, about shots being fired. Nathan, I was terrified. I full on panicked. Henry can attest to that. He saw the whole thing. I felt utterly lost. Only when I saw you, coming into town with Newton, could I breathe again, but only barely."
"I could feel that, 'Lizabeth, seeing your little wobbly smile," Nathan remembered. Hearing the rumble of his low voice surprised Elizabeth, though she was overcome with gratitude that he was evidently feeling more like himself again.
"I wanted to run to you," Elizabeth confessed, "like Allie, to feel you in my arms, to hear your heartbeat, to know that you were safe."
After giving him a loving squeeze, she circled her story back to what he was suffering through now, hoping that her words might offer some comfort.
"Anyway, I can't say I know how you feel, but I have an inkling was all I wanted to say, of what that fear feels like, as if the world has been dropped from beneath your feet, and you don't know where to hold on to survive, but you need to cling to something."
"I'm so sorry you faced that alone," Nathan said compassionately, "that I couldn't be with you then, the way you are with me now." He nestled his head against Elizabeth's. His heart, now recovered, fluttered at the added touch. In the safety of her arms, he sighed, ever grateful for how her love anchored him, and cherishing every single second of their intimacy.
"I hated leaving you, 'Lizabeth…when I had to go through all the formalities with Jeanette's arrest and the others, too. All I wanted to do was hold you. But by the time I managed to pull away, I wasn't myself. I was distracted, nervous, shaky, even. My mind wouldn't stop circling again and again through what happened, playing out all the awful scenarios of what could've happened.
Elizabeth desperately wanted to interject, to reassure him that nothing did happen, that miraculously they all were safe. But, in her heart she knew that would just be brushing away what he felt, which was the opposite of what he needed right now. So, instead, she allowed herself to ache for him, and with him.
After a sigh that felt shaky in and of itself, Nathan's voice grew especially somber. "What scared me the most that night is knowing if the worst played out, I would've lost someone I not only loved, but needed. Part of me wanted to run from that, realizing how entirely unmoored I'd be without you."
"Unmoored" wasn't the word that had initially come to Elizabeth's mind as Nathan described what he'd felt at the time. But, then again, she so often forgot just how contrasting their upbringings had been. Nathan worked in the shipyards as a teen, trying to cover costs for his family. She'd never considered whether he'd worked on any boats, but she supposed that was logically the case now that she thought about it.
As a literary person, thinking about Nathan's word choice, Elizabeth could feel the notable distinction between "unmoored" and other words he might've used like "devastated," or even "lost." "Unmoored" was to lose all stability, all security, adrift in a darkened sea, with no particular hope of finding anything anchoring ever again.
"At first, it was an awful feeling," Nathan continued, sharing the burdens of his heart, "realizing that without any say I'd actually come to need someone. As I said earlier…I preferred solo climbing for a reason. It felt safe somehow. I knew I could take care of myself. But even putting on a harness and rope would've put me at risk. Mentally, I'd believe someone might actually be there for me, when in fact no one ever had been—not really, anyway."
He hesitated, the memories of the past pressing in on him. Then, after a few needed breaths, pulled from the stillness, he added quietly, "So, realizing your safety was so grounding to my own stability was…" He tried to search for a better word that felt less dramatic, but in the end all he could do was describe what he actually felt, "…terrifying."
In the moment, Nathan hated the feeling inside of him. He felt entirely filleted and out in the open—raw, weak, and exposed. "I know that seems dramatic," he said, trying to brush it off. "I don't mean to—"
"Nathan," Elizabeth spoke abruptly, though with a supportive love in her heart, "You're the least dramatic person I know. If you felt terrified, then I want to know that's what you felt, rather than trying to make it seem lesser than it really was. I'm here for you whatever you're going through," she assured him.
"I thought I might feel better as the night wore on," Nathan explained, returning to the evening of the hostage situation. "I changed, had a quick bite to eat. But, when I walked down the path to your house, I was just as conflicted. I didn't even know what I was going to say to you," he admitted, offering a weak smile as an apology, as if he was to blame for his turmoil. "Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I just didn't know how it was going to work between us. I didn't want anything with my work to ever put you at risk and I could hardly breathe thinking about how much it ached now to love you, knowing I could lose you."
Elizabeth was shocked by this new understanding of the thoughts that were running through Nathan's head as he came upon her writing in her journal that night. She hardly knew what to say now in response, especially considering the passion he shared in his kisses not long after he arrived at her rowhouse. Something must have changed, she thought.
"I guess I can see that now," Elizabeth said. "You were so reserved," she remembered. "Your hands were in your pockets. You were caught up in what could've happened, even though we were thankfully all safe at that point."
Elizabeth desperately wanted to ask what shifted that night—how he went from that troubled state of mind to kissing her like she'd never been kissed before. But, reminding herself to be patient with his own pacing, she held her tongue. Still, she desperately hoped he'd add more insight into what all transpired within his thoughts that night.
"'Lizabeth," he said, the emotion evident in just her name, "what you told me that night was exactly what I needed to hear." After a shaky exhalation, Nathan told her, "In the very moment I was terrified to need you, to upend the entire way I'd always lived my life, your words left me no doubt that I could trust in our love."
"And then your kiss …." he added, momentarily lost in his recollection.
Elizabeth didn't have to see Nathan's face to know his little half smile was in place with an eyebrow raised.
"My kiss?" Elizabeth answered in protest, "Your kiss!"
A lighthearted laugh rumbled through Nathan's chest. "It was the best kiss of my life!" he proclaimed.
"No question," Elizabeth responded, agreeing wholeheartedly with a grin she couldn't possibly contain.
"That was quite the night," Nathan chuckled, shaking his head in wonder. "The moment I kissed you," he recalled, "any hesitation in needing you disappeared, and it actually became something I wanted as if my whole life had led to that moment."
Nathan realized how that intensity must've manifested to Elizabeth and sheepishly suggested, "That probably came across in my kiss."
"Loud and clear," Elizabeth giggled softly, snuggling into him even more, "And I loved it!" she admitted, tenderly resting her head against his.
"That really was a pivotal night for me," Nathan replied with reflection. "I've been so closed off my whole life and suddenly I wanted to talk through the whole night, sitting on your front porch."
"Oh, I wish we would've," Elizabeth mused.
"I might've been tempted," Nathan openly confessed, "if Allie wasn't on her own, especially after such an intense night."
"I understand," Elizabeth quickly offered, as a mother, herself. "It was important that you were there at home for Allie." She couldn't imagine what that evening had been like for the fifteen-year-old girl. "But, I see what you're saying Nathan. I've noticed that difference in you—how open you've become."
"It's not easy," he readily admitted. "But I've chosen to trust you in a way I've never trusted anyone in my life."
Nathan's statement hung heavy in the mountain air, a quiet weight settling between them as he felt the vulnerability of what all he'd just shared.
In an attempt to lighten his discomfort, he shifted to less personal words. "Anyway, that's one of the reasons I chose climbing today—to honor how much I've come to appreciate that rope." He then delivered an affectionate shoulder bump to the person who was steadily becoming the rock he'd never known he needed in his life. "I've jumped in with both feet," he said with a chuckle, continuing to keep it light.
Still, something tugged at him to break from levity and to anchor into depth instead. His pounding heart was also nudging him to do the same. After a brief pause, as if unsure of his words, he added, "I don't know…I guess it's like what you said in your letter to me—I feel complete when we're together."
Elizabeth's responsive smile and warm eyes assured Nathan she felt the same. With returning confidence he touched her face softly, resting his hand along her cheek, and affectionately brushed his thumb back and forth. "You're my home, too, 'Lizbeth."
In moments like this, Nathan hardly recognized himself. Loving Elizabeth through the years had ultimately opened his heart, healed its wounds, and expanded his capacity to feel in ways he never thought possible. As both a Mountie and a man, he felt a surge of gratitude for this woman who, without even realizing it, had taught him how to trust again, how to lean on someone without fear, and how to let himself be loved through his weakest moments.
Now tethered tightly in a newfound devotion, Nathan and Elizabeth exchanged a few soft, lingering kisses, each one a quiet affirmation of the deep, unspoken bond that tied them together.
"We've come a long way, Nathan Grant, you and I," Elizabeth murmured, her eyes and lips still close and enticing.
"That we have, my love," he answered, succumbing to her invitation, his lips gently tracing hers in a series of sweet, unhurried kisses.
"Thank you, 'Lizabeth," Nathan said quietly, his tone humble and heartfelt. "For letting me talk through this with you."
To him, her willingness to listen—without judgment, without rushing him, without trying to fix it—was a gift more precious than any words could express. She hadn't recoiled, hadn't flinched at his darkest moments, hadn't shied away from the rawest parts of him. Instead, she'd simply been there, offering her presence like a steady hand to hold, and he could feel his gratitude and trust deepening with every passing second.
In Elizabeth's mind, she heard Nathan's whispered words he'd shared only months ago during one of her most vulnerable moments. "Nathan," she began, adjusting her position to look directly into his receptive eyes. "I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me on my porch, one memorable night back in April…I think you might know what I'm referring to."
Nathan immediately smiled, his eyes sparkling even in the apparent truth that his words mattered to her.
As he heard Elizabeth speak each word, one by one, from the very sentence he expected to hear, the love he'd felt for her that night on the porch filled him once again. Only this time her love, in addition, flooded over him.
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Nathan," she said softly, delivering an accompanying sweet shoulder bump to top off the memory. "And I mean that from the bottom of my heart," she added with emphasis. For a moment, Elizabeth let her loving words and tender gesture sit, knowing that in using his words, he might know just what she was feeling for him right now.
"Being here for you, listening to you," she continued, "I wouldn't have it any other way. You've carried heavy burdens entirely on your own all of your life. Far too many of those have even been mine," she added with an apologetic, but grateful smile. She lovingly raised her hands, cradling his face on either side. "Nathan, you've taught me more about love than I could've ever imagined. And I want to be there for you in whatever way I can. We'll figure out together how to help you work through this, okay?"
Nathan gave a slow, silent nod, his gaze lingering on hers before he leaned his head tenderly into her palm, as if seeking solace in the warmth of her touch. "How did I get so lucky?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with wonder.
Elizabeth smiled knowingly. "I think we both know by now this isn't luck," she whispered with an awed reverence. "We have a priceless miracle in each other, don't we?" With special care, she brushed back Nathan's stubborn curl from his forehead before returning her gaze to the purest pair of blue eyes she'd ever known. "Nathan, you don't have to shoulder anything alone anymore…not a single thing." As if to seal her words, she reached for his hand, their fingers interlacing with a familiarity born of years of shared experiences.
"I can feel that, 'Lizabeth. I really can." Nathan's voice was low and laden with emotion, as their expressive eyes remained locked on one another. Then, in a steadier tone, though tinged with remorse, he said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was going on sooner. I should've."
"As you once told me, Nathan," she said with calm understanding, "'You have nothing to apologize for,' and that holds true here, too."
"Still," he said softly, briefly lowering his eyes before returning to her with a humbled look. "I can't thank you enough."
With a quiet conviction, Elizabeth offered, "I'm here to help," honored to be in a position of support for this truly deserving man.
Nathan's only response, after releasing Elizabeth's hand, was a gentle squeeze around her waist, his arms tightening around her, pulling her in snugly against him, as if to silently reaffirm his gratitude and need for her presence.
Although complicated matters clearly awaited these two once they returned home, for a few serene minutes, they settled solely into each other—Elizabeth still on Nathan's lap, cuddling him close.
Nathan wore only his button-down shirt, having shed his coat for the climb, and was actually more exposed to the cool autumn air than he remembered, with four buttons undone instead of the usual two. Yet, he felt perfectly comfortable, warm in a way he wouldn't be otherwise, without his sweetheart close. The two adventurers sat contentedly, so wrapped up in one another's arms that it was hard to say where Nathan ended and Elizabeth began.
Supported by someone who knew the worst faces of fear, a 'someone' who happened to be his greatest love, Nathan decided to share even more.
"So, Bill saw the first signs of this…of these flashbacks," he explained, remembering the events of that day in the Mountie office, down to the minute. "We had a real heart-to-heart about a month ago, the day your first letter came, in fact. He tried to find out what you wrote, you can imagine." Nathan laughed softly at the thought of Bill's tactics that were more than obvious to the younger Mountie.
Nathan could've gone into more details just now about how Elizabeth's letter had actually spiraled him into second-guessing his trust in her. But, at this point, the need had passed. There was no sense in dwelling on the past, especially since they'd already worked through the wounds that remained from years of navigating their complicated relationship.
Moreover, in the last six months, Elizabeth had built an exceptionally strong foundation of trust, beginning with the pivotal moment she strode up to his row house and uttered a telling phrase that left him speechless. His history of second-guessing her was gone.
"Anyway," Nathan went on. "Bill gave me the name of a doctor in Nelson. I'll talk to him…whatever might help. I know from working in the Mounties that these flashbacks don't necessarily just go away."
"I'll go with you," Elizabeth immediately offered.
"'Lizbeth, you don't—"
"Nathan," she interjected with a light scold, knowing the exact phrase he was about to mutter. "I insist."
As he lovingly recalled Elizabeth's firm "Shoosh" as well as her seasoned advice to accept the help he did indeed want, Nathan simply smiled and said wholeheartedly, "Therapy's sounding better and better."
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Author's Notes:
After S11 Episode 11, I got lost in the thought that this likely was the first time Nathan had ever had someone he deeply loved in danger, and on his watch, nonetheless. Granted, he'd already saved Elizabeth in another hostage situation. However, while he'd already sworn to protect her at that point, his heart hadn't yet been so fully entwined with hers, so exposed to the possibility of losing someone he'd grown to need.
So it was easy to imagine that after the initial shock wore off, the impact wouldn't. In the first chapter of The 1st UNchaperoned Date, Bill sees a glimpse of the lasting trauma that Nathan was experiencing. While they don't focus on that topic entirely at the time, they do have a touching heart-to-heart if you haven't yet read that chapter.
Post-traumatic Stress Disorder is a very real, underreported problem. Statistics show that 35% of first responders are known to suffer from this condition at some point during their careers. I personally know several whose lives have been severely impacted by this struggle, including a nurse who served in New York City at the height of the pandemic. In part, we even have the beautiful story of Winnie the Pooh from A.A. Milne as a result of his battle with this illness after serving in World War I.
Here are some of the steps that Elizabeth followed beautifully as Nathan opened up about this struggle he'd been silently trying to work through, hoping that in time the recurring trauma would eventually fade and go away.
Listen without judgment
Be patient with what they're ready to share
Create a safe and calm environment
Respect their boundaries
Offer emotional support without fixing it
Understand the role of therapy
Help manage triggers