Peter was pacing outside the courthouse, unable to stand still, when he saw Clara approaching, Polly at her side. Peter felt like he had been pole-axed. He could barely breathe at the sight of Clara in her white dress, her long black hair hanging in soft curls, framing her face and cascading over her shoulders. She was clutching the flowers from Polly against her chest as though protecting them from being damaged by the crowd around her.

Peter rushed toward Clara, unable to wait a moment longer to be with her. Peter saw the moment Clara recognised him in the crowd, her eyes lighting up with love and joy as she increased her pace to reach him. The moment she was close enough, he reached for her, gently taking her in his arms, careful not to crush the flowers or her dress. He inhaled her scent as he held her, knowing he would recognise her perfume anywhere. It was a mixture of Jasmine and his uniquely beautiful Clara.

"I am so happy to see you, Peter," Clara whispered in his ear, "I was imagining so many things that could go wrong; I had convinced myself something was going to stop us from marrying."

"Nothing is going to keep us apart, I promise. Trust me."

"With my whole heart."

Peter closed his eyes as he kissed Clara's forehead. He silently promised her that he would never willingly hurt Clara and that he would spend the rest of his life showing her how devoted he was to her. He wanted to ensure his wife never worried about anything but being happy.

The ceremony, then the lunch Polly insisted on providing, flew by, and it seemed only minutes had passed when he found himself escorting Clara into the Hotel's foyer. James, who was working at the check-in counter, winked at Peter, and he knew the dinner and Champagne he ordered were in the room as arranged. Peter had never tasted Champagne but had never been married either, so it seemed right to share it with Clara.

Peter led Clara to their room, and he was pleased at her delight in his surprise. He laughed as she exclaimed over the dessert and wine, the fresh fruit and cheese. He was glad he listened to Polly and followed her suggestions to prepare this for the two of them. Peter would never have thought of all of this on his own.

"I am so sorry," Clara exclaimed, covering her yawn. "I was too excited to sleep last night."

"Me too," Peter admitted.

There was some awkwardness as the two of them prepared for bed. Peter felt unexpectedly shy and imagined Clara felt the same. As they settled into bed, Peter left the bedside lamp burning, wondering what to do next.

"Clara?" Peter called her name gently. "Today was perfect. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife and making me the happiest man in the world."

"Thank you for asking," Clara laughed. "Saying yes was the best decision I ever made."

"I love you, Clara."

"I love you, Peter."

The two days following their wedding flew by for the newlyweds. They took advantage of every moment they spent together, loving the freedom of not having to cut their time short each evening. Peter loved discovering every tiny detail about his new wife. He could watch her sleep for hours, listening to the small sounds she made as she dreamed. He enjoyed teasing her about her lack of cooking skills and that of the two of them, he was the better cook.

The thing Peter loved best about Clara was her enthusiasm about living in Coal Valley. They spent hours discussing their plans and lives in Coal Valley. He told her every story he could think of about growing up with his parents. He talked about how sweet and kind his mother was and felt awful when tears filled her eyes. He wished Clara had known her mother, but he was sure his mother would welcome her with open arms. He hoped the two most important women in his life would love each other the way he loved them.

Peter listened as Clara talked about her childhood and what it was like to move around as her father struggled to find work. He felt as though she was holding something back from him. He thought it was about Mr Fletcher and his repayment, but he dropped it when she asked him to. He didn't want anything to spoil the short time they had.

"Don't cry, Clara. Please." Peter begged, hating to see her so sad. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as her tears fell.

"I know it's silly, but I will miss you, Peter. I wish I hadn't been so insistent on staying behind and packing my things. Nothing I am bringing with me is essential to me anymore."

Peter stroked her hair and let her tears wet his shirt. He could feel tears pricking his eyes and blinked them back. He needed to be strong for her. It was only two weeks, he told himself. Two weeks until he came back and brought her home to Coal Valley. Two weeks would fly by as they both kept busy preparing for their new lives. He would blink, and he would be arriving in Hamilton again, not leaving as he was now.

Peter kissed Clara's head as he noticed the Conductor preparing to blow the whistle for final boarding.

"I need to go, Clara."

"I know," she whispered as her arms tightened around him.

Peter was glad when Clara stepped back from him; he wasn't sure he could have found the strength to let her go. He stared down at her tear-stained face and tried to smile. He didn't want her to remember his sadness when she thought of this moment. She wanted them to hold onto the joy they had been feeling.

"I'll be back soon, Clara. I will spend every spare minute getting our home ready, and in two weeks, we don't have to be apart again."

The Conductor blew his whistle, and Peter saw Clara flinch.

"Go," Clara urged, sniffing back her tears. "Go and hurry back to me."

"I love you, Clara."

"I love you too, more than anything. You have made me so happy, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life doing the same for you."

"I love you, Mrs Stanton."

"I love you, Mr Stanton."

Peter stole a final kiss and turned, leaping onto the train at the final moment, earning a reproachful look from the Conductor. Standing in the train's doorway, he waved to Clara until she grew smaller and disappeared from view.

Peter stared at his father, hoping for an explanation for what he was hearing. There was a rumbling sound, low and deep but growing louder by the second. He could feel the sound; it was vibrating through his whole body. Peter could see the horror building in his father's eyes...and he knew.

Small rocks, dirt and other debris rained down on Peter as he and the other men turned and ran. Peter saw his father stop, reaching down to help someone who had fallen. Peter grabbed the man's other arm, and between him and his father, the man regained his footing, limping between them.

The rumbling grew louder until it was deafening. Peter could see his father shouting something, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the tunnels collapsing around them. His father pointed toward the exit, and Peter knew he was telling him to run, to leave the two of them, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave his father or Paul Blakely behind; he had to help them escape. They all needed to get out.

Peter hadn't told his parents about Clara yet. He had been tired when he got home and had to go to work early this morning. He planned to tell them over dinner that night. He had to escape this and make sure his parents knew about Clara. What would she do if something happened to him? She had no one else. Who would tell her? Comfort her when she cried? He had promised to go back for her.

Peter's hope of reaching the entrance faded as the mountain crumbled around them. The air was thick with dust, and it was getting harder to breathe. The tunnel opening was filling with rocks, and the light shining through was getting dimmer as the hole grew smaller.

Paul Blakely tripped again, and Peter stumbled beside him. As he tried to regain his balance, he felt a rock bounce off his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm. He heard his father cry out and saw a slab of timber fall across his back, knocking him to the ground. Peter and Paul turned, reaching for Noah, but the ceiling collapsed above them, rocks falling around them, creating a barrier between them.

Peter cried out for his father and thought he heard his voice in reply. He started grappling at the rocks, Paul beside him doing the same. Rocks continued to rain down on them, and Peter knew they only had a short time to save his father. The two men grabbed rock after rock, but for each boulder they moved, another took its place.

"You should go," Peter called to Paul Blakely. "Get to the entrance."

"I am not leaving your father; he didn't leave me," Paul yelled, pulling another rock off the pile. "We keep go..."

Another rock slide cut off Paul's words, and Peter lost sight of him as the dust spewed around them. Peter called out but didn't get a response from either man.

"Father!" Peter called. "Paul?" He yelled, but there was nothing.

Peter looked around for a way out, a way forward or back, anywhere to escape the tunnel, but there was nothing but dust and darkness. He crawled over the rocks to where he thought his father was, but everything had changed, and he didn't know if he was going in the right direction. Another rumbling sound caught his attention, and he looked up as more rocks fell. Peter threw his hand over his head to protect himself, but it was useless. The rocks were too heavy, and there were too many.

Rock rained all around Peter, and he could feel them striking his back and shoulders until he was knocked off his feet. He could feel blood trickling down his face and into his eyes, mingling with his tears as his eyes slowly closed.

"I'm sorry, Clara. I love you."

Clara was humming under her breath as she rushed toward the Cafe. She was having lunch with Polly today as her guest. Polly insisted she had several household items she wasn't using anymore that she wanted to gift Peter and Clara. Clara had tried to refuse, but Polly was very persuasive.

As Clara hurried by the Train Station, the newspaper headline caught her eye, and she paused.

"Mine disaster destroys Town. Forty-two men dead."

No. It couldn't be. It wasn't.

Clara took a small step toward the newspaper stand, needing to see the article to confirm it wasn't Coal Valley. It wasn't her Peter.

Her hand was shaking when she reached for the newspaper. Drawing it closer, she scanned the article and cried out when she read the words 'Coal Valley', the 'lone survivor', a name she didn't recognise. Falling to her knees, the article clutched against her chest, she bowed her head and sobbed.

Nathan Grant left the train station, looking around for somewhere to eat. He had left his Mountie posting in a rush after receiving his mother's telegram asking him to come home. It wasn't until he took his seat on the train that he realised he had been in such a hurry he hadn't changed out of his Mountie uniform or taken the time to eat. His stomach had been churning too much to eat on the train.

He was concerned for his mother, but he had to admit his main concern was his niece, Allie. His sister, Colleen, Allie's mother, had died recently, and his mother had taken over caring for her. Allie was an energetic four-year-old child, and his mother had finally admitted she couldn't keep up. His mother asked him to come, and he knew she was asking him to take care of Allie.

What was Nathan going to do with a four-year-old? How was he going to look after her and be a Mountie? While he had spent time with Allie when she was a baby, their time together lately was limited by his job. As a Mountie, he moved from posting to posting, which was fine for him, but how would Allie handle that? The last thing he wanted was to ruin her life. If he wasn't a Mountie, what would he do?

Shifting his bag on his shoulder as he walked outside the train station, Nathan took in his surroundings. Across the road and a little way down, Nathan saw a sign on a building that read the 'Station cafe'. A cafe would be the perfect place to wait for his train and satisfy his hunger. He had barely stepped toward his destination when a sound caught his attention. It sounded like someone was crying.

Nathan glanced to his right and saw an alley way off the main street, he cocked his head, listening for the sound again. He entered the alleyway, walking slowly, checking between the boxes and pallets of goods stacked on each side. As he walked, he heard the sound again, and he knew it was definitely a sob.

Nathan peered between two stacks and saw a young woman crouched with her back to him, her head resting against the wall. As he stood there, he saw her shoulder shaking as deep, guttural sobs escaped her.

"Maam?" Nathan called softly. He saw the woman flinch at the sound of his voice, but she didn't turn to look at him. Nathan noted that she was neatly dressed, her light blue suit was clean, and her handbag was beside her. Next to her handbag was a crumpled newspaper.

"Maam, What has happened? Do you need medical assistance?"

The woman turned her head toward Nathan, and he could see her face was swollen and blotchy from crying. She rose to her feet and attempted to smooth her clothing.

"I don't need medical assistance. Thank you."

"You do need assistance, though, Maam?" Nathan asked gently, wondering what had happened to cause this level of distress.

"I...I need to go. I need to get away."

Nathan watched the woman bend, collect her handbag, and reach for the newspaper. Her hand closed over it convulsively, and another sob escaped her as she stood up. The woman swayed on her feet and reached out, bracing herself, placing a hand on the stack of pallets.

Nathan stepped forward, unable to stand by without offering assistance. There was something in the woman's demeanour that connected within him, bringing his grief over the loss of his sister back to the surface. He thought he had it under control, but moments like this brought it surging back.

"Please, let me assist you to where you are going, or at least to a taxi."

"I need to get to the Station Cafe. I need Polly."

Nathan didn't ask who Polly was; all that mattered was that he could help. Returning to the main road, he kept his pace slow and steady. As they walked, he tried not to stare at the young woman. He saw her reach up and wipe her face again, trying to repair some of the damage caused by her tears. Reaching into his pocket, he handed her his handkerchief, which she took with a small smile of gratitude.

"My name is Constable Nathan Grant," Nathan said, introducing himself. "I am only visiting Hamilton, but I think I saw the Cafe you mentioned. Is it the one up here on the right?"

"Yes."

Nathan glanced at the crumpled paper in her hand. "May I see it, Maam?"

"Clara. My name is Clara...Stanton."

Nathan wondered why she stumbled over her name but was distracted by the paper's headline as she handed it to him. Quickly scanning the article, he assumed that she knew one or more of the men killed.

"Who was he?"

"He was my husband."

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs Stanton." Nathan watched as her chin wobbled, and instead of pausing, he increased his pace. Mrs Stanton needed privacy and her friend, Polly.

Nathan held the door of the Cafe open, stepping aside to let Clara enter. He was pleased the Cafe was relatively quiet, and he glanced around for anyone who worked there who might identify Polly for him. He caught the eye of a woman delivering plates of food to a table near the window, and he saw her frown when she noticed his companion.

"Clara! What's happened?"

"Oh, Polly! He's dead!"

Nathan felt the woman, Clara, crumple beside him as she made her announcement, and he reached for her elbow to hold her steady. The woman, he assumed was Polly, raced toward them and embraced her.

Nathan stared into Polly's eye, and she stared at him, her eyes demanding an explanation.

"Is there somewhere private we could go?"

Polly led Clara away from the prying eyes of her customers through a doorway into what Nathan assumed was the kitchen. He was pleased to see a sitting area to the side of the kitchen, and that was where Polly led Clara to the settee, lowering her into it and sitting beside her.

"Constable? Do you know what this is about?"

Nathan placed the crumpled newspaper on the small table before them, exposing the headline.

"I believe it was this, Maam. There was a mining accident in the Town of Coal Valley. It appears many men were killed; there was only one survivor."

"You don't know it's Peter."

"He's dead, Polly. He would have contacted me to tell me he was okay otherwise."

Nathan watched as Clara sobbed again, inconsolable. He wished he could do something for her, but there was nothing. Nathan hadn't heard of Coal Valley, but if a Mountie had been stationed there, he could have reached out for confirmation.

"What about his family, Mrs Stanton? Wouldn't they have contacted you?"

"I'm not sure they know about me," Clara hiccupped. "His father was in the mine too...his poor mother."

"They've only been married two days. Peter was going home to tell his parents." Polly explained. "He may not have gotten the chance."

The three of them sat there in silence. Nathan worried about intruding on this private moment, but he also didn't want to seem insensitive to her loss. As time went on, he saw Clara's eyes diminish and her eyes droop, and eventually, she fell into an exhausted sleep, her emotions overwhelming her.

Polly carefully laid Clara against the cushions on the lounge and covered her with a blanket from across the back of the settee. Polly placed a finger on her lips, telling Nathan to remain silent as they stood and walked back into the Cafe.

Polly collected two cups of coffee and a tray of pastries as they walked through the kitchen. She seated them at a corner table, and as they sipped their coffee and ate, Polly told him Peter and Clara's story. Nathan was devastated for the young woman. He knew what it was like to have your life changed by the death of a loved one.

"Is there anything I can do for Mrs Stanton? Escort her to Coal Valley?" Nathan asked. He wasn't sure what he could do, but he might be able to escort her to Coal Valley. His mother would understand if he delayed his trip to collect Allie.

"I am not sure she will want to go there without him. She knows no one, and they don't know her. The two of them were so happy. They planned their whole lives, and I am not sure Coal Valley would be the same for her...without him."

"Does she have any other family?"

"I'm the closest thing to family she has."

Nathan waited as Polly glanced over her shoulder to where Clara still slept.

"What is it?"

"I don't know how Clara is going to get over this. She spent so much time caring for her father and then grieving him. Peter was the one joyful thing in her life."

"I can delay my trip."

"Tell me where you were going?" Polly asked, and Nathan knew she was curious about his easy offer to alter his plans.

Polly was easy to talk to, and Nathan told her more than he had ever told anyone. He spoke of growing up with an older sister, his closest friend. He described Colleen's disastrous marriage, which resulted in his wonderful niece. He opened up to her about his sister's illness and her subsequent passing. He explained his mother was in ill health and that she had asked him to come to care for Allie, his niece. Nathan stopped short of sharing his hesitancy about being able to care for Allie and be the father she needed and his fear of letting her and his sister down.

Nathan was exhausted when he finally finished telling Polly his story. Without a word, she left the table and returned with a fresh pot of coffee, which she sat between them.

"There is no way I will let you change your plans, Constable," Polly said kindly. "Your mother needs you, and so does your Neice, and I cannot believe you are the type of man who would let either of them down." Polly poured him another cup of coffee, sat, and stared at him. "No matter how scared you are."

"How did you...? Nathan stammered.

"Anyone in your shoes would be scared. I don't blame you, but you will blame yourself if you don't go. Your family needs you. The fact that you care about doing the right thing by your niece means you will."

"But what if I mess it up."

"You will sometimes; every parent does. It will work out as long as she knows you love her and you are there for her." Polly rose to her feet and smiled at Nathan, "Now, Constable, I am going to pack you some food for the rest of your trip, and you will catch your train."

Nathan sat back in his chair and thought about what Polly had said. He would go to Allie and his mother. He would take Allie home with him and be the best uncle and substitute father he could be. Allie had been through enough in her life, and he wanted to shield her from any more hurt or pain. Making the rest of her life happy would be his priority. He would be the parent Colleen never got to be. He only hoped Clara Stanton could find a way to be happy, too.