It had been a short night, but nothing Nathan hadn't encountered as a Mountie out in the field. Coffee would certainly help, he thought, but first things first. Tucked back in by the nurse's station down the hall, he made a call to Bill, having promised to fill him in once they got settled.
"Bill Avery here," a gruff voice answered.
"Bill, it's Nathan." He heard an audible sigh on the other end.
"It's good to hear from you, son. Tell me everything."
"Jack is fine," Nathan began, instinctively knowing as a father to relay that information first. "He's still sleeping actually," he added, a smile stretching across his lips as he remembered the cozy cuddling from the night. Nathan's heart warmed at the love that little boy had long brought into his life.
Continuing his report, Nathan explained, "Elizabeth and I met with the doctors." Still marveling, he shook his head in shock at how rapidly they'd all uprooted their lives. Yet, already he was profoundly convinced of one singular truth. "There's no doubt this is the right place to be, Bill…for now anyway," he added as an afterthought.
During the next several minutes, these two men talked back and forth as if in a Mountie meeting, alternating between debriefing and questioning. Once the most critical information had passed between them, a weighty pause suddenly filled the conversational space, despite the distance from Hope Valley to Cape Fullerton.
All too knowing, Nathan asked, "Bill, what is it?"
Bill cleared his throat, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled deeply, gathering his thoughts for what he knew needed to be said.
"Nathan, you know I love you like a son," he started, his voice immediately going hoarse.
The younger Mountie, still in his jodhpurs and henley, soon felt the phone receiver shaking in his hand, a subtle tremor he couldn't seem to control. It was as though Nathan's heart had already signaled to his body he no longer had to be the strong one—not for this moment, at least—because Bill was there to take on that role in his life, as he'd quietly done in the past. A lump rose in Nathan's throat as a flood of unspoken emotions from the last twelve hours surged through his overwhelmed heart.
Bill sensed the nature of Nathan's silence as only another Mountie could, and continued on, realizing this might be more of a one-way conversation.
"I just hate to see you and Elizabeth going through this, Nathan, especially after—" Bill paused, now unable to speak himself.
Since Nathan's mind naturally filled in the familiar words after Jack, he was surprised to hear how Bill eventually finished his sentence.
"—after being apart for so long," he managed to speak, though his voice was clearly strained.
Nathan inhaled softly, struck by how applicable "apart" felt last night, one sleeping in the bed beside Little Jack, the other in a chair. Of course, it made sense as far as a hospital room went.
But something had certainly shifted between him and Elizabeth after such a sudden and definite decision to live these next uncertain steps together.
If he was honest with himself, his heart ached last night for more than just Little Jack's setback.
Being so physically close to his sweetheart—the bed just a few feet from the chair—left him feeling especially disconnected, distanced by the reality that he was still longing for Elizabeth to be his wife after six years. And then there was Allie's timely comment about living in the same house.
Though Nathan never grew tired of thanking God for the gift of Elizabeth's love, in these poignant moments of reflection, he couldn't shake the feeling that the puzzle he was always so close to completing kept shifting—constantly reshaping into something new that he had to try and rebuild. Now, he felt stuck in yet another one of those shifts, wondering when and how the pieces of their life together, as a family under one roof, would finally fall into place.
"Nathan?" Bill's commanding voice broke into his thoughts. "Nathan, are you still there?"
"Yes, sorry," he mumbled, quick to apologize. But, he offered no more, overcome by guilt for thinking of anything beyond the here and now in the hospital with Little Jack.
"Oh, good. I thought I'd lost you." Bill left the line open a moment, knowing by Mountie intuition that something more was on Nathan's mind. But, when only silence answered back, he thought it best to continue, to say his piece, and let Nathan physically return to where his heart was.
"Look, son, I know I step in and out of people's business readily," Bill owned with a somber chuckle, "but rarely do I go this deep," he added, feeling the need to warn Nathan of what he knew would be perceived as meddling. He sighed. "This time, I just can't stand back and say nothing."
Though only a second passed, the silence stretched between them—two men who usually bantered like bullets shot in rapid fire.
"Bill," Nathan said with a tone of loving annoyance. "We've known each other too long for you to beat around the bush."
"Fair point," he said begrudgingly. "I just wish the circumstances were different, that I wasn't having to talk to you about this at all, let alone over the phone."
Just as Nathan was about to scold Bill again for skirting the issue, Bill blurted out, "It's about Elizabeth."
Nathan inhaled sharply, wondering if a new skill of Bill's was now reading minds, considering his most recent thoughts about the ache of forever living apart from Elizabeth despite longing to be one.
"Look, I know you've been letting her take the lead, and I get that, I do, but…well…" Bill's tone instantly softened as he tried to say this as gently as possible. "You know and I know that since Jack's diagnosis she's hardly been able to look past being a mother."
Though Nathan felt the impulse to defend Elizabeth, since his heart, too, had prioritized Allie when she'd been struggling, he opted to keep quiet instead, willing to hear out what this seasoned Mountie had to say. Nathan, known for his level head, at least had the presence of mind to recognize that Bill knew their lives inside and out, and loved them both—loved them all, actually, Allie and Jack included. So, under the circumstances, he acknowledged correctly that every one of Bill's words was stemming from a grounded place of wisdom and best intentions.
"Just like when Jack died, I've noticed Elizabeth pulling away," Bill said, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "And of course she has," he added quickly, as if trying to defend the woman who, in his eyes, was like a daughter to him. "She's terrified—thrown by the possibility of now losing her son, too." Nathan could feel the pain in Bill's voice, a man who had walked through grief before, who knew what it was several times over to lose someone precious.
After a pause, this loving father figure and insightful Mountie explained what he'd felt compelled to share. "I just can't watch Elizabeth trying to do this on her own again, Nathan. And as long as you two live in separate houses, she'll keep carrying the entire burden emotionally, no matter how much anyone else offers to help."
When only the quiet hum of the hospital filled the air space, Bill wasn't surprised. This was a lot to unload on a man who'd just chased down a car and jumped in with nothing but the uniform on his back. Recognizing Nathan's choice to silently absorb his words, Bill pressed on.
"I know it's madness to think of planning a wedding right now. But you don't need all the trappings to make a marriage," he insisted, believing his point was clear. Bill always appreciated the unspoken understanding that came when talking to Nathan. Mountie to Mountie, they didn't need to spell out every detail—just the frugal essentials.
So, moving on, Bill said softly, but with confidence, "What Elizabeth can't see right now, Nathan, is that she'll be her best self with you—not beside you. And your greatest strength to each other and to your children will be together, truly together."
Nathan lowered to the chair beside the phone, his head spinning with each added word of Bill's unsolicited advice. Just now, he'd felt ashamed of his selfish thoughts about marrying Elizabeth in the midst of this mess with Little Jack. But maybe, now further nudged by Bill's poignant perspective, he considered as a man of faith that those very thoughts might be pressing him for a reason.
The doctor's words after their rushed arrival last night echoed through Nathan's mind. "As much as I want to assure you all will be well, this condition will be a path with many twists and turns."
Unexpectedly, it was Rosemary's voice that reverberated back, "I can see how happy you make her, how happy you make them both. No one knows what the future holds, so we might as well enjoy the time we have."
As Nathan tried to make sense of what was passing through his mind after a night of little sleep, on the other end of the line, Bill was battling against his darkening thoughts. Having lost a son himself, that awful possibility hung heavy in Bill's heart, though in a place he wasn't willing to venture aloud at this emotional time. Still, as a realist, Bill couldn't bear the thought of Nathan and Elizabeth waiting any longer to marry, especially with Jack's condition uncertain—likely to continue fluctuating for some time or even, heaven forbid, worsen. This family needed each other, and now.
With a final sigh, knowing he'd nearly said his piece, Bill concluded, "Son, I guess what I feel I need to say, having been around the block a few times over, is that sometimes the right timing will never be convenient."
Bill's final words of wisdom hit Nathan with a sudden clarity, reassuring him that his earlier thoughts about marrying sooner than later were more than just happenstance.
Seconds passed in silence, but Bill instinctively waited, knowing Nathan would respond when he felt ready.
In a quiet, humble voice, Nathan admitted, "I've been so rattled by these last seven months, Bill, trying to figure out how to move forward, how to be there for Elizabeth and Little Jack—Allie, too—in this new life of ours."
Bill heard Nathan's heavy sigh through the phone, followed by a ruffled sound. From their many weighty conversations, he knew exactly what had happened even without visual confirmation. Nathan had absentmindedly passed a steadying hand through his hair, as if hoping to gather his thoughts, to find some thread of clarity amid the uncertainty. But it wasn't just the muffled sound that caught Bill's attention.
Beneath Nathan's next words, though filled with self-sacrificing understanding, Bill's intuition caught the weary tone of a man who'd loved deeply for six long years, with nothing more than fleeting glimpses of the marriage he'd longed for, now cruelly overshadowed by the sudden and dramatic shift in their family's future.
"I knew right away that Elizabeth needed space once Jack was diagnosed—that she couldn't possibly be thinking about a wedding. It just wasn't the right time to propose," Nathan said, as if reminding himself of what he'd felt then, before considering the words he spoke aloud next.
"But the truth is marrying Elizabeth is all that's been on my mind lately," he continued, his voice trailing off, surprised at how clearly his view of the coming months was shaping, despite the instability and challenges that still loomed ahead.
It was as if, for the first time, the puzzle pieces of his life with Elizabeth were finally starting to fall into place, not by force, but by a quiet, inevitable alignment, by a hand not his own. Distracted by the poignancy of this realization, Nathan was startled out of his thoughts by Bill's voice. Yet the words rang with truth, reaffirming the path his heart felt increasingly led to follow.
"It was nearly a year ago now you told me how you and Elizabeth march to the beat of your own drum," Bill pressed gently, leading him toward the direction he, too, instinctively felt was right.
"It looks like that might be even truer than I knew," Nathan acknowledged, shaking his head and releasing a low laugh.
"Well," Bill said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were giving the orders for a Mountie mission, "It's time to let that rhythm carry you both forward."
With a charged silence settling between them, newly energized with hope amid the heartache, Bill couldn't resist offering one final piece of sage advice. "Don't let the timing fool you, Nathan." In that moment, it felt almost like Bill reached across the miles, placing a reassuring hand on his adopted son's shoulder. "Sometimes the right moment isn't the one you plan, it's the one you make."
Nathan half-smiled, remembering momentarily the words he and Elizabeth exchanged about fate.
Then, as if sharing a back-slapping hug with the man who truly had his back, Nathan warmly spoke, his voice tenderly wavering. "Bill, I can't thank you enough for all that you've said just now. I know it couldn't have been easy…" A soft chuckle escaped him as he tried to temper his emotions. "… Even for a meddling Mountie like yourself," Nathan lovingly teased, lifting his watery blue gaze to the ceiling in an effort to keep the tears at bay.
Though normally Bill would've countered with a snarky comment, the gravity of his being in Hope Valley and his family walking into the unknown in Cape Fullerton was too leveling, as was the unusual vulnerability in Nathan's tone. So, with uncharacteristic solemnity, Bill responded, "If I've learned anything in all my years, it's that time is a finite resource." After a regretful sigh, he added, "Unfortunately, it was through the hard knocks of life that I came to that truth."
Nathan had heard Bill relay those words of wisdom before, but they struck him differently now, as he sat on a metal chair, holding the receiver to his ear in a hospital. Time had never felt so fragile.
Bill's thoughts, too, seemed to drift to the present, as he continued, "So now, I try to make the most of my time with the people I love. And that includes you, son, and this family of yours." His voice caught, moved by the sure knowledge of his place within their broader family unit. He cleared his throat quickly, shifting to the safer topic of logistics. "In fact, I'm coming on tonight's train for the rest of the week. Is there anything I can bring for you?"
Back to business, the two Mounties talked details. Aside from packing up some clothes, Nathan asked Bill to bring a few things of his and Allie's from home—Allie's art supplies for one. Jack's hospital room could certainly use a dose of cheer.
Having already talked longer than he expected, Bill wrapped things up, sensing Nathan's mind—and more importantly, his heart—were already with that little blond boy who held a special place in both their lives.
"Be sure to give Jack a hug for me. Tell him I'm bringing a surprise for him tomorrow."
"I will," Nathan chuckled, imagining Jack's response to the news of a present. "But, Bill," he insisted, "I think he'll be even more excited about you coming."
Now, it was Bill who was quiet on the other end of the phone line, fighting for composure. "Thanks, son. Know that I'm praying for you all. Don't forget what we talked about," Bill warned, returning to his familiar commanding voice.
"It's at the forefront of my mind," Nathan assured the senior Mountie.
"Good," Bill replied, satisfied. "I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."
"See you then."
After their final goodbyes, Nathan sat quietly for a moment, feeling not just lifted, but guided. The weight on his shoulders, which had silently burdened him for months, seemed to ease; and strangely, even in the sterile, impersonal space of this hospital hallway, he felt a newfound peace and quiet confidence.
He'd never spoken openly about faith with Bill. But now, in these ongoing circumstances, faith felt like their one true source of comfort and hope, and Nathan looked forward to deeper conversations on the topic with his closest friend—someone he felt bound to, both in the brotherhood of the Mounties and as a friend he'd long considered family. Beyond faith alone, it was also the strength of their Hope Valley community, rallying around them, that continued to help carry Nathan through the endless uncertainty of Little Jack's condition.
Author's Notes:
Earlier in this chapter, I refer to Nathan as a man of faith. While I don't necessarily think that was always the case for Nathan, I think in feeling the "stars align" with Elizabeth, and in wading through Jack's diagnosis for the last eight months, that both he and Elizabeth would've dug deeper toward something, desperate to find meaning and some sense of peace in their suffering. As a church-centered community, and with Joseph and Minnie's wise words, it makes sense to me that the residents of Hope Valley, who all deeply love Little Jack, would've rallied together and offered up many pleading prayers both individually and collectively.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please read on to the next chapter in this release, Assumptions and Affirmations.