Written in 41 minutes.

Colorado Territory, 1872

They had changed trains in Denver, setting course for the small town of Port Charles at the base of the Rocky Mountains, and the last stage of a journey that had taken Elizabeth Webber from her home on Lake Ontario in New York across the country.

It had been the name of the town that had caught her attention in the advertisement she’d seen. She had grown up in region dotted with small villages and hamlets that had the “Port” in its name between Lake Ontario and the Erie Canal that fed into it, the lifeblood of upstate New York. In fact, her hometown had been Port Hamilton. It had seemed like a sign to her — exchanging one lake for another. Surely, they wouldn’t name themselves that without some sort of water.

She’d clung desperately to that sign as she’d read the rest of the advertisement, Lawman, Port Charles, Colorado Territory, aged 29, good appearance and good family. Looking for a strong woman. Must want children.

It had been that final line that convinced her. She glanced down at her sweet son, napping next to her. Cameron, only four years, was the center of her existence, and all she wanted in this world was to give him a better world than they had at home. In Hamilton, everyone knew she was unmarried, and he’d be labeled with that nasty label of bastard.

So she’d sent a letter to the man in Colorado who wanted a wife and a family, and hoped for the best. Now, Elizabeth was finally closing on the miles between Denver and Port Charles, waiting to start her new life and hoping desperately that Sheriff Jason Morgan was everything he’d promised in his letters.

Port Charles lay at the base of the Rocky Mountains, a strange name for the small settlement that had sprung up when the miners flooded the area following the gold and silver strikes of the 1850s. Twenty years later, there was still a decent silver mining operation in business and the settlement had flourished into the largest town for miles. They’d even managed their own railroad spur, connecting themselves to Denver and increasing the business in town.

Jason’s grandfather had made the canny and lucrative decision to uproot his entire family—including his children and grandchildren to invest in those silver and gold mines. The Morgan family was one of the founding families, and that sense of obligation was rooted in Jason from the moment he’d arrived from San Francisco at the age of nine.

Now, he was an adult, walking the streets with a star pinned to his chambray shirt that proclaimed him the ultimate word of law in the town. He rode down the main street, casting his light blue eyes over the buildings and denizens, always looking for trouble. Not that they had a lot of that these days, but he was always ready.

He tied the horse to the post outside the jail where he spent most of his waking hours and tugged off his hat. Inside, at the desk, he found one of his two deputies pouring over papers. Dillon Quartermaine, his younger cousin, jumped, startled at the sound of his boots, and several pieces of papers flew into the air, floating to the ground.

Jason narrowed his eyes as the boy scrambled to his feet and grabbed for the papers. Dillon was always pretty excitable with a tendency to speak at a rapid pace and use his hands to gesture wildly, but over the last few weeks, he’d also become squirrely. Nervous. Something was up.

Jason squatted, reaching for one of the loose papers, and Dillon snatched it back, his face flushing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Dillon stammered. He cleared his throat, clutching the papers to his chest. He got to his feet. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Cut the bull.” Jason set his hands at his waist. “Don’t make me find out later—”

“I was up all last night thinking about Grandmother,” Dillon said, lifting his chin. “Don’t tell me you weren’t.”

Jason exhaled slowly, some of the suspicion melting away. “Yeah, I’m starting to dread Sunday supper,” he admitted. He removed his hat and set it on the post by the wall. “I thought she’d let this go.”

“She won’t,” Dillon muttered. “Not as long as you keep this up.” Jason shot him a look. “And you know it. She wants us both tied down, but she’d give me a break if you’d just do it—”

Jason scowled. “It’s not that easy,” he said defensively. “I’m busy—”

“You’ve been saying that for almost a year,” his cousin shot back. “You didn’t even try—”

That was true, but it still stung. “Look—” Jason began.

“Nothing. You’re the one that promised Grandmother you’d get married this year, not me. And somehow I got dragged into it.” Dillon stabbed a finger at him. “This is your fault.”

That was also true. If Jason had just stayed strong just a bit more, but his grandmother had a way of looking at them, and everything they’d been through—he dragged a hand over his face. “It’s not that easy,” he repeated. “It’s not like I have a lot of choices.”

“That’s true.” Dillon cleared his throat. “But if you met the right someone, you’d be on board? You promise you’d consider it?”

Jason glanced down at the papers, then back at his cousin. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing. I’m just working on arguments for next Sunday. Eventually Grandmother is going to give up on you, and then I get a starring role.” His eyes were wide. “I’m barely twenty-two! I haven’t even lived yet!”

Jason scowled. “Listen—”

“And I need to have something to say to Grandmother,” Dillon continued. “So you promise if someone showed up you could see yourself marrying—”

“Then I’d consider it,” Jason bit out. “Fine. Tell her that.” He yanked Dillon’s hat off the post next to his. “Now get to work and make your rounds.”

“Mama.” Cameron rubbed his eyes as Elizabeth set him on the bench. “Are we home yet?”

“Not yet darling.” She ruffled his blond hair, then smiled at the train manager. “You said there was a message?” Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain calm. A message didn’t mean he’d changed his mind—didn’t mean that she’d spent the last of her funds to drag her son across the country—

“Uh, the sheriff got held up down at the jail,” the manager said, folding his hands. “Said he’d be along as soon as possible. Just have a seat, and it will all be sorted out.”

“Oh.” Well, the letters had said he was the only law enforcement for the entire area, she remembered. There were two duties, but he was in charge. She’d have to understand that sometimes that would have to come first. She could deal with that.

She sat next to Cameron, pulled him close to snuggle, and hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.

Dillon returned from his rounds, his face a bit flushed. “The train from Denver came in.”

Jason got up from the desk where he’d been sorting the local bulletins and wanted papers from San Francisco. “I heard it a while ago. So?”

“Mike sent a message there’s a delivery for you. For the station,” Dillon clarified. “Don’t know anything else. But you need to pick it up.” He shoved his hat back on his head, wiping at the beads of sweat. “You know how that Pinkerton guy sends all those official papers and gets cranky if I sign for it.”

The Pinkertons had only recently come west to break streaks in San Francisco, and were constantly searching for union leaders in hiding. Jason liked to pretend most of their orders went missing, but occasionally he didn’t have a choice.

“Fine,” Jason said. He reached for his hat. “Let’s get this over with.”

The train station was just outside of town, no more then a ten minute ride from the jail. His cousin went with him, his face still flushed from the heat. Jason reminded himself that he’d need to send him for some water. Idiot might get overheated and get sick, and then what would their grandmother say?

Jason stepped inside the station, scanned the small room and didn’t see Mike Corbin, the manager anywhere. Just a young woman on a bench, with a little boy curled up next to her. She was fair-skinned slightly flushed from the heat, her brown hair caught up beneath a hat with curly tendrils escaping. She turned at their entrance, and then she smiled—her blue eyes lighting up with a sparkle. “You made it.”

Jason stared at her for a long moment, then looked at his cousin, then back at her. She stood, carefully allowing the dozing boy to continue sleeping as she set his head on bundle of cloth she’d had in her lap. “I—”

“The train manager said he didn’t know how long you’d be,” the woman continued, approaching, her smile switching to Dillon, then back to him. “But you weren’t long at all! I’m sorry—” Her cheeks flushed again, and her smile turned sheepish. “I’m doing all the talking and you haven’t had a chance to say a word. I did tell you in my letters I tended to ramble, didn’t I? I tried to warn you.”

In her letters. Jason flashed to the papers Dillon had had that morning, his strange behavior—and then their conversation.

Dillon had taken matters into his own hands, found a woman, and put her right in front of Jason—and she didn’t know a damn thing about it.

+11

Written in 29 minutes.

Almost as soon as she’d closed her mouth, Elizabeth knew that something was terribly wrong. When the pair of men had come into the station, she’d spied the gold star pinned to the taller of the men’s shirt. She’d been pleasantly surprised that such a good looking man would need to advertise for a wife, but she’d heard all about the imbalance of men and women out in the West.

Still, as he’d drawn closer, Elizabeth’s stomach had begun to quiver. He was more than just generally good-looking with sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He had broad shoulders, and a kind smile—

The younger man at his side bore some resemblance — similar hair color and eyes, but he was a bit more spindly and his eyes kept darting all over the place. But the sheriff—Jason Morgan—hadn’t made eye contact with her—his eyes had passed over her at first.

Something was wrong.

“I’m glad you made it safely,” the younger man said—maybe the cousin Jason had written about in his letters? “I know Jason was worried about you traveling with your son.”

“Oh—” Elizabeth twisted to look at Cameron still dozing fitfully on the bench, shoving her doubts down. Maybe Jason was just nervous. That was possible. They’d only written a handful of times—perhaps he was even shy around women. That might explain why he’d searched all the way back East for a wife. “He did well enough, but the last few legs, we had to travel overnight and he didn’t sleep much.”

“I was born out here,” the cousin said cheerfully, though he was speaking a bit fast. He elbowed Jason. “But Jason traveled here when he was just a kid, not much older. Right?”

“What?” Jason blinked, then cleared his throat. “Uh, yes.” He rocked back on his heels. “From San Francisco. When I was nine.”

“Not nearly as far as you came,” the cousin said—what was his name? Something with a D—David? Elizabeth couldn’t quite bring it to the forefront of her memory. Everything had scattered when the men had arrived, and she was still trying to make sense of everything. “New York or New Jersey?”

“New York.” Elizabeth fiddled with cuff of her dress. “Port Hamilton. On Lake Ontario.”

“Well, you’ve moved from one lake to another,” David—no, Dillon! That was it—said. Elizabeth remembered that it was spelled differently. “And Jason’s got the Colorado running past his ranch outside of town. You’ll love it.”

She looked at the man in question who hadn’t said more than a handful of words. What was she supposed to do? Push him into conversation? What if he was just a quiet man?

“I’m looking forward to it,” Elizabeth said. She lifted her chin. “I was hoping that I could get Cameron settled somewhere. You said that I’d be staying in the hotel for a few days while  we made arrangements?” she asked Jason.

“Uh, yeah. I—” Jason looked at his cousin. “Did you take care of it?” he asked Dillon, and Elizabeth was a bit surprised by the tense tone. Jason had nearly bit the words out. Was Dillon normally unreliable?

“Of course. Just as you told me. A little suite with a bedroom and a sitting room.”

“All right then.” Elizabeth returned to the bench to pick up her bag, looping the straps over her arm, then carefully hoisting Cameron into her arms. She swayed for a minute—her little boy wasn’t as little as he’d once been and the added weight—

“I’ll—I’ll take that.” Jason reached for her bag. “I’d—” He carefully removed it from her arm without disturbing Cameron who had only opened his eyes bleerily, then snuggled closer to her. “The hotel is just across the way.”

“Well, then let’s get to it, I suppose.” She pasted a smile on her face and followed the men outside, wondering if she’d made a terrible decision after all.

Jason made sure the woman—whose name she still didn’t know—and her son were comfortable in the rooms that were, of course, registered in his name. The woman behind the check in desk had raised her brows, but Jason had just glared. If Britta Westbourne opened her mouth before he had this settled—

As soon as he’d cleared the hotel entrance, he’d grabbed his cousin by the  back of the neck and dragged him around the corner and shoved him against the brick wall. “What the hell is going on?”

“Okay, I can explain—” Dillon held up his hands. “I meant to tell you. I started to a thousand times, but it wasn’t something that really rolled off the tongue, you know? And then before I knew it, she was on her way—”

“On her way,” Jason said flatly. “But you had time to find out her travel arrangements and pay for her hotel by charging it to my account. Dillon—”

“Look, just hear me out, okay? Listen.” Dillon took a deep breath. “It’s not like I sent for the first women who replied. A lot of women replied. I mean, a lot,” he repeated. “So I made sure I picked someone you’d like—”

Jason gritted his teeth. “What—”

“She’s a hard worker, and she’s devoted to her kid. I mean, she was super clear about the son right away.” Dillon’s face was flushed. “And talked about how she wanted someone who’d love him and be a father. You like kids. And she likes to talk. You hate to talk—she’ll fill all the silence—”

“You—” Jason had to step back or he’d do something he’d regret. “You wrote her as me. She has no idea that I don’t know.”

“Well, no. And she doesn’t need to.” Dillon shrugged. “I’ll give you her letters, and you’ll know everything she told you. You said you’d get married if the right woman came around. She’s the right woman—”

“Says you,” Jason retorted. “Then you marry her—”

“Oh, no. We both like to talk. We’d irritate each other in five minutes.” Dillon’s eyes widened. “You promised—”

“You made me promise that knowing she was already here,” Jason interrupted. “That’s not fair—”

“Give me one good reason she’s not perfect for you!”

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it. The trouble was—the idiot had a point. The woman was beautiful—someone he’d take a second, even third look at—damn it—

“I don’t even know her name, for one—”

“Oh, that’s easy. She’s Elizabeth Webber from Port Hamilton, New York. Her son is Cameron, and she’s twenty-four. He’s four, I think. Nearly five, maybe I don’t remember. Just read her letters, you’ll see—”

“She wrote them to you,” Jason said with a shake of his head. “And she wrote them because of some advertisement you created. It’s not right. And you’d have me lie to her some more? Lie to her for the rest of our lives?”

“I—” Dillon frowned. “Well, why should it matter? She came here to marry a stranger—”

“The fact that you don’t understand the difference tells me how stupid you are. Go back to the jail. I’ll stay and clean up your damn mess—”

“Jason—” His cousin’s face fell. “You’re not even going to give her a chance?”

“It’s not fair to either of us.” Jason shoved Dillon towards the street. “Now get out of my sight.”

+9

Written in 40 minutes.

Elizabeth left the room to the bedroom cracked in case Cameron woke, but she was relieved that he’d slipped into a much deeper sleep. She had quite enough problems without adding a cranky child into the mix.

She paced the minuscule sitting room, the skirts of her calico dress brushing against the chaise lounge. What would she do if Jason Morgan returned and told her he’d changed his mind? How would she manage? This wasn’t like New York where she could find a factory job—

She stared down at her hands, the tips of her fingers heavily calloused from three long years working in the textile looms. At the missing tip of her left index finger. She’d been fortunate not to lose the entire hand—flashes of that terrible day hovered in her dreams, the searing pain, the deep fear of what would happen to her little boy—

Elizabeth couldn’t return to factory work. It was too dangerous and left Cameron unprotected. She turned towards the ajar door, biting her lip. Had it been one thing to read about her son in the letters, another to be confronted with the reality? She could have lied. Could have called herself a widow. Who would ask questions?

That’s what she’d do in the next place, Elizabeth vowed, beginning to pace again. And if she was ever fool enough to pursue marriage again, she’d maintain the lie. No one thought badly of a widow—and wasn’t that exactly what she was? Why did it have to matter that Alexander had died before their vows? She’d planned to marry him—

A choking sob rose in her throat, and Elizabeth swallowed it, closing her eyes. It would do no good to become hysterical. She didn’t even know for sure that anything was wrong. Perhaps Jason was just…uncertain. And hadn’t he written to her of his reserved nature? He was a quiet man.

Still—

When the knock came, less than thirty minutes after their arrival, Elizabeth hurried to unlatch the door. Jason stood there, his hat in his hands, and a look in his eyes — The pit in her stomach only grew.

“There are a few things we need to discuss,” Jason said, his voice pitched low. “Can we—”

Her lip trembled, and she nearly lost her composure—but then something strange happen. The hysteria dried up, and all she could find was rage.

“Of course,” Elizabeth said flatly. She stepped back and allowed his entrance, closing the door behind him. “You’ve come to tell me you’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?” She turned to face him, and he opened his mouth. “Was it my son? Did you take one look at my little boy and decide you’d promised too hastily to overlook my past?”

Jason’s sandy brown brows drew together. “No—”

“Because I’ve decided I have no need of someone who has to forgive me for what I’ve done,” Elizabeth retorted. She lifted her chin. “I don’t understand a world that punishes women and children for the lack of a silly piece of paper. You’re no better than my family, than everyone I left in New York.” Then the tears threatened again, because that wasn’t entirely fair.

She sank onto the chaise lounge, some of the rage fading. “No, that’s not true,” she murmured. “They were worse. They knew Alex. They knew of our plans.” Her hands fisted. “We would have been married the day he died, and no one would have blinked when Cameron came along seven months later. But a horse threw him, and now I must be punished for the rest of my life.” She took a deep, but shaky breath. “Their rejection is worse, but that doesn’t make you any less cruel for knowing the truth, promising me it would not matter, and then changing your mind after I’ve given up everything—” Elizabeth lunged to her feet. “Well, you don’t have to change your mind and reject me because I’m changing mine, and I’m doing it first—”

“There’s been a mistake,” Jason cut in, his tone gentle. He set his hat on a nearby table, then raked his fingers through his hair. “I never wrote any of those letters, Miss Webber. I didn’t advertise for a wife.”

Elizabeth stared at him, the mounting horror settling in. She slowly sat back down, trying to understand the words he’d spoken but they weren’t making any sense. “I—I didn’t just show up here. There were letters—I can get them—and there was an advertisement—I kept it—”

He stopped her as she pushed past him, intent on fetching their correspondence. “I don’t doubt any of that. I said I didn’t do it, but my cousin did.”

“Your cousin—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, swaying slightly. His hands moved to her shoulders, keeping her up right. “How—why?”

“Sit down. I’ll attempt to explain—but let me make it quite clear, Miss Webber—” He waited until she’d sat down again, taking a seat of his own in one of the wooden chairs at the tiny square wooden table. “I don’t care about your son’s birth or whether you were married to his father. You’re correct. There’s nothing to forgive you for, and I apologize if my cousin used those words when he wrote.”

“He—” She took a deep breath. “I think you need to tell me what’s going on.”

The plan had been to calmly explain the terrible misunderstanding, apologize for the idiocy of his cousin, and arrange for her transportation where she wished to go. And then Elizabeth Webber had opened the door, with that dreadful look in her eyes. She’d known why he was there—but had supplied her own reasoning—

And it had changed something in him, listening to her blast him for judging her past, then recounting her past with that haunted look in her eyes. Jason’s family had had its issues, and there were reasons he’d left the family home in  her in town and bought his own land, but he’d never felt rejected—

“A year ago, my grandmother made it clear that she wanted my cousin and I to marry and settle down,” Jason told her. “And I agreed. We both did. But Dillon hoped that if I were to marry first, she’d give him a bit of space. So he…”

“He arranged for a mail order wife,” she finished. “Why—”

“Because we love our  grandmother and we understand why she’s asking.” Jason cleared his throat. “Cholera swept through the area about two years ago. And it decimated the town. My family—” Even now, he could hardly speak of it. “My grandfather. My parents. My brother. His wife. My aunt—Dillon’s mother.” He forced himself to finish. “My sister and my nephew were the last.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth breathed. “How devastating.”

“We nearly lost my grandmother. I—” Jason shook his head. “Dillon and I are all she has left, and she wants to see us settled before she goes. I also think—” He sighed. “She’s lonely. The house was filled with her family before, and it’s just her and Dillon now. I moved back to my place around the time she started asking.”

“Your cousin wrote all the letters posing as you,” Elizabeth said. “Did he really think this would work?”

Dillon, Jason thought, was smarter than he looked. He’d thought she was lovely the moment he’d laid eyes on her at the train station, but Port Charles had its share of physically attractive women. That didn’t mean he had to marry any of them.

Then she’d let her fury fly, her eyes sparkling with righteous rage at even the hint of insult to her child. Now, she sat in front of him, those same wide blue eyes damp with tears and sorrow for his family’s losses.

“I think,” Jason said carefully, “that he thought you were always planning to marry someone you didn’t know very well, so you wouldn’t notice that I didn’t say much about the letters. And that he thought my promise to my grandmother would convince me.” He paused. “I am very sorry about what he’s done. He’s put you through so much trouble—

“And I’m sorry,” Elizabeth cut in, her face flushed. “I said such terrible things to you—”

“You believed I had ill feelings towards your son. I expect nothing less. The thing is, Miss Webber—” Jason hesitated. “I think, despite Dillon’s actions, that the best way forward is to marry.”

“What?” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He didn’t understand it either—he’d come here, quite firm in his decision, but — “You had planned to marry someone you didn’t know,” he reminded her, “and I told my grandmother I’d marry this year. I think—” He nodded. “I think Dillon might have done us both a favor. I’d like to make the arrangements as soon as possible—”

“That’s very kind of you—” Elizabeth held up her hand and he stopped. “But I must refuse.”

+9

Written in 32 minutes.

Elizabeth wanted to call the words back nearly as fast as they’d fallen from her lips — refusing to marry the man she’d traveled across the country to wed was the absolute height of insanity, and clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind.

In fact, she opened her mouth to say so, but then closed it. She’d come here to marry the man who had advertised for a wife. Not the man who stood in front of her, with kind eyes. He pitied her, nothing more, and Elizabeth could not—would not—be someone’s wife out of charity.

“Miss Webber,” Jason Morgan began, his brows drawn together in surprise. “I think we should discuss this further—”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Elizabeth rose to her feet and crossed to the window overlooking the dusty street. Port Charles was so different than the world she’d left behind, with its close and cramped buildings. She could look out this window and see the world beyond the handful of streets. The mountains, the water of Grand Lake—

She’d wanted this to be hers, but it had been nothing more than a dream. How strange to learn that she was still capable of those—

“I feel responsible,” he began, and she closed her eyes. “And, as I said, I did make a promise—”

“To your grandmother.” She turned, jumping slightly as she found him no more than a foot away. He moved quietly. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “You made a promise to your grandmother, and it’s admirable—”

She stopped speaking when he took her hands in his, the roughness of his skin startling her. She curled her fingers inward, embarrassed at their condition—

But Jason had already noticed her injury. “What happened?” he wanted to know.

“Textile loom,” she murmured. She pulled her hand away, fisting it behind her back. “I was fortunate not to lose more.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Morgan, I thank you for your consideration—”

“I don’t understand why we can’t at least talk about it,” Jason cut in. She closed her mouth. “You came here to start a life with me—”

“With the man from the letters,” Elizabeth insisted. “You make it sound as if—” She took a breath. “That was quite different. I thought that I was coming here to marry someone who had actively looked for a wife. Can you truly not see the difference?”

Jason pressed his lips together, nodded. “I do. But I was looking—”

“You said your grandmother asked you a year ago,” she reminded him. “You must not have been looking hard—and don’t tell me that you decided once you saw me,” she added when he opened his mouth. “You feel responsible. You said so yourself—”

“I was looking, but not very hard,” Jason admitted. He reached for her hand again, resting her balled up fist in his palm. “Do you want me to arrange for transportation somewhere else? Back to New York? Maybe in San Francisco?” He tilted his head. “I will, of course. You’re free to do as you wish.”

She stared at her hand in his, then slowly uncurled it, allowing it to lay flat against his palm. If she returned to New York or anywhere back in East, there was little respectable work outside the mills and factories. She knew that was no life for Cameron. Would it be different in San Francisco? Or anywhere else?

She closed her eyes, then slowly drew her  hand away once more. “I thank you for your consideration,” Elizabeth said softly. “For your kindness in handling a difficult situation,” she continued. “I must rely on your good nature a day or two more while I consider where to go next.”

Jason tipped his head to the side. “You’ll have the rooms along as you need them, but—” He squinted. “Can I speak bluntly?”

She frowned. “Yes, of course—”

“I find you physically attractive,” Jason said, and her eyes widened. “I would not be asking you out of pity or offering a marriage in name only. In fact, I came here to offer you exactly what you’re asking. A few days to get yourself together and then to help you go wherever you chose.”

“You—” She couldn’t form the words. “I don’t understand.”

“But I think that we could help each other.” Jason reached for her hands once more, but this time, he laced his fingers through hers, tugging her just an inch closer so that their bodies brushed. “I do want a family,” he continued. “And you want one for your son. For yourself.  I can give you that.”

“And you—” Her voice was nearly breathless as she absorbed this turn in the conversation. “You would want to—” He wanted her? “I mean—”

“I changed my mind the moment you decided to reject me,” he murmured. Her eyes flew to meet his. “I’m sorry for what’s happened. Back in New York. With my cousin. But we can make the best of it. I’m asking you to let me try.”

Make the best of it. Hardly a romantic proposal. But she hadn’t expected romance, had she? And she hadn’t expected this—this feeling—this swirling, fluttering pull that had been gone so long— She’d hoped for friendship, for warmth, and companionship. She’d hoped for Cameron to have someone he could look up to.

She wanted somewhere to belong, someone who wanted her. And this man she scarcely knew was offering it.

“I—” She licked her lips. “Are you sure?” she breathed. “I would not want you to feel obligated—”

“I don’t.”

“Then—” Elizabeth nodded. “All right. Yes. I can—I will.”

Jason dipped his head, closing the short distance between their mouths and kissed her, softly, gently. She melted against him, sliding her arms around his neck, letting herself feel for the first time in years. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe she would regret it—

But, oh, just maybe — this was the answer to all her prayers. Did she deserve that much?

+13

Written in 22 minutes.

Jason left the Westbourne Lodge with a mixture of confusion and worry. He’d gone in convinced of the path forward — apologize profusely to the woman his cousin had lied to, arrange for transportation, and leave with a clear conscience.

Instead, Jason had not only proposed to complete Dillon’s demented plan, but he’d had to talk Elizabeth Webber into it. And yet — Jason couldn’t convince himself that he’d made a mistake.

Once leaving the rooming house, Jason continued down Main Street and wasn’t surprised to find Dillon loitering outside the jail. The younger man jumped up, then frowned as Jason walked past him. “Uh, Jase—” He scrambled to follow. “Where are you going?”

Jason just shook his head. If he stopped, he might end up punching the kid, and his grandmother wouldn’t approve. “You know, this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I know.”

“I’m tired of cleaning up after you.”

“I know—” Dillon’s eyes bulged as Jason turned off the Main Street, down a more shaded street with a mixture of tall trees and saplings recently planted to give the neighborhood a more distinguished look. “Are you going to tell Grandmother? Please don’t—”

“I should, you know.” Jason stopped in front of the elegant, three-story house that his grandfather had built when the silver mines became profitable. It was the largest house on the street, in all of Port Charles, because Edward Morgan had always wanted the best for his family. For his Lila. Even if he’d been a ruthless, overbearing son of a bitch—

Jason had spent most of his life arguing with the bastard, but now, two years after the cholera had taken him —

He’d give anything for one more argument.

“If you tell Grandmother, I’ll just tell her you didn’t even bother looking for a wife—” Dillon hurried up the path after Jason. “Please, don’t—”

“Don’t worry—” Jason pushed open the door, then turned to his cousin. “I’m here to tell Grandmother that I wanted to keep my promise to her so much that I advertised for one.”

Dillon frowned. “Wait—”

Jason grabbed Dillon by the shirtfront, pulled him close and pitched his voice low. “And the only reason I’m doing that is because Elizabeth would be mortified if anyone else knew what you did.”

“You’re marrying her?”

“Yes. Don’t congratulate yourself just yet,” Jason warned. “This could still be a disaster.”

Dillon watched Jason disappear in Lila’s parlor, then grinned. He’d escaped the worst of it, and better yet — Jason had done exactly what Dillon had expected. He’d taken one look at Elizabeth and decided to keep her.

Dillon wasn’t sure exactly what about her letters had convinced him — maybe the upfront way she’d spoken about her son or the dreams she wanted for him and for her dreams — but by the third letter, Dillon had known there was no other choice.

And it didn’t even matter if Jason did thank him — Dillon would be off the hook. Jason and Elizabeth could make all the babies their grandmother wanted, and Dillon could do whatever he wanted.

Freedom was his at last. He nearly whistled as he sauntered out the door and back to his post at the jail.

Lila’s beloved face lit up when Jason entered the parlor. She rose to her feet, held out her hands. “Darling, what a lovely surprise.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, quite well. You’ve just missed Amanda Barrington,” Lila told him. “We’re planning the harvest festival—” Her blue eyes, a match for Jason’s, twinkled. “Alison is returning from San Francisco in a few weeks—”

“That’s why I’ve come to see you.” Jason waited for Lila to return to her seat, then sat down across from her. “I’m getting married.”

Lila beamed. “Oh, how wonderful? Who is it? I always thought you and Anna’s daughter would be a wonderful match. Or Britta—”

Jason made a face, then forced a smile. “No. No, it’s no one you know. She’s from New York.”

“New York—” Lila’s smile faded. “I don’t understand. How did you meet her? What—”

“I looked,” Jason told her, “right here in Port Charles, but there was no one. So I wrote an advertisement and put it in the papers back East—”

“A mail order bride?” Lila began to fan herself. “Oh, dear. Dear, dear—”

Jason winced. “Grandmother—”

“What will they think—” Lila moaned. “My own grandson, lowering himself—”

“Grandmother—” Jason’s tone was more forceful this time, and Lila blinked at him. “Does it matter what they think?”

“For the young woman, it does,” Lila replied. “Mail order brides are for desperate men and desperate women. You are not desperate—you’re just picky. And this girl—”

“Her name is Elizabeth, and you’ll like her. I like her,” Jason admitted, and now his grandmother’s expression had softened. “I didn’t make this decision lightly.” Impulsively, maybe. But not lightly. “She’s been tough—she’s been through a lot. Like you. And she’s fierce. She doesn’t put up with any slight towards her family. She has a little boy, Grandmother.”

“She’s—” Lila’s hands tightened. “She’s a widow, then. How old is the boy?”

Jason hesitated, unsure if Elizabeth wanted to be known as a widow. It seemed wrong to let his grandmother continue with that thought, but without Elizabeth’s permission — “He’s about four.”

“Four.” Lila closed her eyes. “Michael would have been five.”

“I know.”

“Is—does she have any other family?”

“No. Just Cameron. It’s why she answered the advertisement. She wants a family, Grandmother. And I—” He swallowed hard. He’d wanted a family once, too. When his nephew and sister had died, the two people he loved most in the world, he’d let go of that dream. It hurt too much. “This will work out. You’ll like her,” he repeated.

“I’m determined to like her if it means you’ll finally find joy again.” Lila squeezed his hands. “I didn’t just push you and Dillon for my own selfish ends, though if you bring me a grandchild to love this  very day, I will not complain. You’ve both been drifting. We all have. It’s time to move on.”

“I know.” Jason kissed her cheek. “Elizabeth and Cameron are already here. I’ll bring them to dinner, and you’ll get to know them. I promise you, this will work out.”

+21

Writen in 60 minutes.

The moment the door closed behind Jason Morgan, Elizabeth’s anxiety began to rise. She had been nervous enough to marry a man she’d never met in person, but to marry a man who had not even sought out a wife in the first place—

She wanted to be safe, she wanted her son to have a better life than the one she’d given him so far, but to marry someone, no matter how kind, who hadn’t woken up that morning intending to propose marriage—it was preposterous.

The only reason she not yet sent word that she’d changed her mind was the stark knowledge that she had few choices. She had to hope that the gentleness she’d sensed in him would continue, and extend to her son whom he had not yet properly met.

Cameron woke from his nap, refreshed and back to his normal, boisterous self. He was starving, he told her, so Elizabeth took his hand and decided to venture out.

“Oh, Miss Webber—”

Elizabeth turned to find the woman who had checked them in holding up her hand. Her countenance was quite pretty, but there was a slyness in her brown eyes that had Elizabeth clutching Cameron’s hand more tightly.

“Mrs. Webber,” she corrected softly. She would not allow any one the chance to slight her son. She only hoped Jason would not mind the pretense that she’d been married to Cameron’s father. “It’s missus.”

“Of course. My apologies. The sheriff left a message for you,” the woman said, sliding over a note folded into an envelope that was still sealed.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth took the letter, slid it out. He wanted her to meet his grandmother tonight. He would come for her at dusk. She tucked the note into her reticule, took Cameron’s hand again, and decided to find a general store where she could purchase something to tide him over until supper.

Port Charles—still such a strange name for a town without much of a port on a small lake—stretched out along a wide main street. The streets were tightly packed dirt bordered by wooden sidewalks that ran in front of buildings. Gaps created alleys between some of the buildings.

It was quite different from the dark, dank streets she’d lived on in Port Hamilton, with buildings and tenements that stretched four or five stories into the air. Few of the buildings seemed to be larger than one story, and the sun shone brightly over it all. Just beyond the railroad depot, Grand Lake opened out into the horizon, and the Rocky Mountains towered over it all.

Better yet, the air was fresher, cleaner than it had been in New York. She took a long, deep bracing breath. She would make this work. Jason Morgan hadn’t wanted a wife, but he would get the best wife she knew how to be.

Jason was surprised, but relieved, to find Elizabeth standing outside the lodge as the sun dipped behind the mountains that evening. She had changed her dress from the dusty calico she’d worn on the train into a light blue one. And her son—

Cameron Webber stood beside her, with sunny blonde hair. He was smartly dressed into a boy’s suit that reminded him of what Michael had worn in the only photograph they had of him, though Michael’s had been much smaller. It was a finer material than Elizabeth’s dress, which was frayed at the edges and a bit faded. Clearly, she saw to her son’s needs before her own.

“Sheriff,” Elizabeth said, her lips stretching into a smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “You’re quite prompt.”

“My grandmother keeps a tight schedule—” He stepped up from the street, unsure what to do. Should he introduce himself to Cameron? Did the boy know—

“Cameron—” Elizabeth knelt down, straightening his jacket. “Do you remember I told you that I was going to be getting married?”

“Yes.” Cameron’s voice was light, sweet, and he spoke with a bit of a lisp. “You said we have a house. And maybe a papa.” Cameron twisted his head, studied Jason. “You the papa?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, and Jason’s stomach twisted at that—but it wasn’t discomfort. Not quite. Surprise, maybe. A strange swirl of tenderness and excitement. He was four, after all. It was likely by the time he’d grown, Jason would be the only father figure in his life. To deny him the title of father seemed unnecessarily cruel.

“Yes,” Jason said. He held out his hand, and Cameron shook it. “I’m Jason, but if you want and your mother says it’s all right, I can be the papa.”

“Don’t know what papas do—” Cameron’s tiny shoulders shrugged. “But I like my mama, so okay.”

Elizabeth choked back a laugh, then got to her feet. “I’m sorry—” she told Jason, but he shook his head.

“It’s all right.” He offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it, sliding her arm through it. “My grandmother lives just down the road and around the corner. It was the first house built in the town, so it’s close. I thought we’d walk there if it’s all right.”

“That sounds nice.” They started down the wooden sidewalk and Elizabeth reluctantly let Cameron’s hand go when he tugged, wanting to skip. He’d learned how to do it from one of the children he’d met during the train ride.

“Stay on the walk,” Elizabeth told him. “And don’t go too far in front.”

“Kay.”

“I didn’t have the chance to ask you—my grandmother assumed you were a widow when I told her about Cameron, so she might say something. I didn’t know if you wanted me to tell her, or—”

“I’d prefer if no one knew,” Elizabeth admitted. “It’s not that I’m ashamed, but Cameron—”

“My grandmother wouldn’t slight him,” Jason assured her. “But it may make his life easier. It’s not fair—”

“But it’s realistic,” she finished on a soft murmur. “As long as you know the truth—your cousin does, too,” she said on a mutter. “I was quite honest in the letters.’

Jason scowled at the reminder of what his cousin had done. “It will be up to you if we tell my grandmother.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened as they turned down the street, and her feet became stuck. “You—she lives on this street?”

“Yes—” Jason’s mouth twisted. “My grandfather had already been wealthy before he came to the silver mines here. He was one of the lucky ones who struck gold in California. He sent for the rest of the family, then we came here for the silver. He wanted my grandmother to have a home like the one we’d left in San Francisco—”

The homes on this street were grander than she’d expected—most two stories, constructed quite like the ones back home, with sweeping porches and large picture windows. The trees shaded the street, and the walks here were not wooden, but made of cobblestone, while the road was paved with stone. “It looks like a street I’d find at home.”

“My grandmother is heading a committee to repave Main Street,” Jason told her as they began walking again. “They’re hoping to attract more businesses as the silver mines start to wear out. We’ve got a lot of fishing and ranching, too.”

She’d run away from the tenements of Port Hamilton only to find herself thrown in the very kind of society that had thrown her out, and somehow—she was marrying a son from the oldest family. Just as her parents had wanted for her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I just—I read some of the dime novels and it’s not quite what I pictured.” She’d pictured freedom.

“I don’t live here,” Jason reminded her. “I left home a long time ago. I have a ranch outside of town—I was elected sheriff last year,” he added. “My grandmother put me on the ballot.”

“Really? She can do that?”

“There’s not a lot Lila Morgan can’t do in Port Charles,” Jason told her. “My place is nice, but it’s nothing like here. If that bothers you—”

“No, no. In fact, quite the opposite.” They stopped in front of the largest home on the road—three stories high. She swallowed hard, reached for her son’s hand and hoped that it would be okay. That she would survive this life better than she’d managed in the last.

Elizabeth’s mood had changed when they’d turned the corner, and she’d gotten her first look at his grandmother’s neighborhood. Jason hoped that meant she would be all right with living several miles out of town. One of the reasons his grandmother had maneuvered him into the position of sheriff was to force him to be in town more often.

His grandmother was waiting in the parlor with Dillon when Jason ushered Elizabeth and Cameron through the foyer and down the hall. “Grandmother, this is Elizabeth Webber.” He put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “And her son, Cameron.”

“I am delighted to meet you.” Lila strode froward, took Elizabeth’s hands in hers and kissed her cheek. “And your son—how handsome and smart you look, young master.” She held out a wrapped candy. “Do you like caramels?”

Cameron’s eyes widened. “Mama?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Can I? It’s not my birthday yet.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened, and he knew she was embarrassed by the implication—her son only received sweets one day a year. “Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Call me Grandmother. Both of you.” Lila handed Cameron the candy, and his small fingers raced to pull off the shiny wrapper. It dropped to the floor—but instead shoving it into his mouth as Jason and his siblings had done as children—he delicately nibbled at it.

Another strange swirl of tenderness swept through him. Cameron clearly had experience in making such treats last as long as possible. He wanted to take the child directly to the sweets shop on Main Street and open an account for him.

“Take a seat, darling,” Lila said, taking Elizabeth by the arm and pulling her from Jason. “Tell me everything about yourself. Jason tells me you’re from New York.”

“Um, yes.” She tucked a piece of behind her ear, sitting next to his grandmother on the chaise. Jason crossed over to the sideboard where his grandmother kept the liquor and poured himself a tumbler of whiskey to sip. “Port Hamilton on Lake Ontario. He told me that your family was from back east.”

“Oh, well, eventually. We started in London,” Lila said. “My father left after the Napoleon fell and the Corn Laws—” she shivered delicately at the memory. “I was just a girl, no more than Cameron’s age. We came to New York City.” She tipped her head. “Webber,” she repeated. “I knew a Webber once.”

Elizabeth tensed, and Jason frowned. “Webber must be a common name,” he said.

“Oh, to be sure. And this was quite some time ago. Edward and I were quite close to a family whose daughter married a Webber,” Lila said. “You said Port Hamilton? One of those boomtowns that sprang up after the Erie Canal opened.”

“Um, yes—”

“I’m even more convinced that we might have known your grandparents.” Lila searched her memory. “Alan was all but grown when we left New York for San Franscisco, so we spent quite some time in New York.”

What were the odds—

“Steven and Audrey Hardy,” Lila said, snapping her fingers. “I haven’t thought of them in years—”

“Steven and—” Elizabeth’s face drained of color. “Those are my mother’s parents. You—you knew them.”

“What a lovely small world,” Lila said, delighted. “Oh, just think, Jason, if we’d all stayed in New York, you and Elizabeth might have grown up together.”

Of course. If her family had been in manufacturing and business—it made sense that Edward Morgan had done business with them. New York City was a large city now, but it had been much smaller fifty years ago—

Dillon’s eyes widened. “That’s why your name sounded familiar,” he declared, startling them both. “Grandmother has newspaper clippings from New York.”

Jason glared at him. “What?”

“Um—” Dillon closed his mouth, sat back in his chair. “Never mind.”

Christ. Dillon had sorted through letters from women, and he’d been drawn to one because of a name—

Jason didn’t much care if Lila knew Elizabeth’s family, but Elizabeth seemed deathly afraid that it would somehow lead to the truth about Cameron’s birth—how terrible had it been back in New york?

“Of course. I saved every mention of us in the papers,” Lila said, preening. “My Edward was such an important man, even then. Dillon must be remembering the notice of your parents wedding. It was one of the last events we attended before we came West. Susannah Hardy married a Webber who was in shipping.”

“Yes.” Defeated, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. That sounds right. They moved to Port Hamilton after they married. I’d—I had forgotten that.”

“I lost touch with Audrey after we left. I don’t suppose she still…” Lila asked, hopefully.

“I—” Elizabeth’s eyes watered. “No, no. They, um, they—their train collided with another—” She exhaled slowly. “It’s been about eight years.”

“Oh, my darling. How tragic. You’ve lost so much for someone quite so young. Jason told me your family was gone. Were your parents with them?” Lila asked. “Is that why you felt you needed to come West?”

“N-No.” Elizabeth shot Jason a miserable look, before she looked at his grandmother again. “No. They sent me away.”

“Sent you—”

“Elizabeth,” Jason said, stepping forward. He didn’t want her to feel forced into this—but she shook her head.

“I was betrothed as a girl,” Elizabeth said. “And he died. The day we were to wed. Before the ceremony.”

Lila closed her mouth, looked over at Cameron who was still nibbling at his caramel, focused entirely on the sweet treat, then back at Elizabeth. “Before.”

“Yes. I’m not—I’m not a widow. I’m so sorry.”

+26

Written in 52 minutes.

“Yes. I’m not—I’m not a widow. I’m so sorry.”

The words hung between them for a long moment, and Elizabeth was torn between the rush of relief that she was telling the truth and fear that Lila Quartermaine would reject her and this small fledging chance at a life would be over before it had even begun.

She’d had to tell the truth. Once it was clear Lila had known her grandparents, had even attended her parents’ wedding, there was every chance Lila would write to old friends in New York or even find her parents. She would learn the truth another way. Of all the advertisements Elizabeth could have answered, she had chosen a family with deep roots in the very New York society she was fleeing.

“You must have loved him very much,” Lila said gently, and the kindness Elizabeth could see in the older woman’s blue eyes nearly overwhelmed her. “What a terrible tragedy, my darling.”

“It—” She closed her eyes. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of Alexander in so many years. There hadn’t been room for the grief, not when she’d been facing the prospect of a child born out of wedlock. “Yes.”

“And your parents were not sympathetic? I’m sorry. Of course not. You already said they sent you away. But now you have your beautiful boy.” Lila looked at Cameron who finished the sweet bite of his candy. “And their loss will be our gain, won’t it?” She paused. “For Cameron’s sake, it will be necessary to continue the fiction of your widowhood. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth managed a smile. She sat back and Lila released her hands. “Thank you for your understanding.”

“Thank you for your trust. And now that my new grandson has finished his pre-supper treat, we ought to adjourn to the dining room for dinner.”

“I hope you aren’t angry with me.”

Hoisting the sleeping Cameron in his arms a bit higher, Jason waited for Elizabeth to step outside of his grandmother’s gate to begin the walk back to the boarding house.

“For telling my grandmother the truth? I wanted that to be up to you. I’ve told you I don’t care.”

“It’s just—she knew my grandparents. I was worried she might feel nostalgic and reach out to someone who might know the truth. I would hate if she learned the truth another way. She was so kind to Cameron. To me. Even though I’m sure a mail order bride was the very last thing she wanted.” Her voice seemed quiet on the dark street, and he wished now he’d brought a cart to take them home. There was little light from the moon, and gas lamps were still being argued about in the council meetings. “But maybe it’s a blessing,” Elizabeth continued. “Your grandmother seemed happy that we could tell people that I’m the granddaughter of an old friend from back East.”

“It will smooth some things out for you,” Jason told her. “Less curiosity, I suppose.” They finally turned onto the Main Street, where there was more lighting. “I was thinking that we should arrange the, ah, wedding soon.” He paused. Would tomorrow be soon, he wondered. She’d only arrived that morning. But why wait?

“Of course. I’m not sure how it works here,” Elizabeth said. “Do we just—do we just show up somewhere?”

“We’ve got a church,” Jason said. “I could ask Reverend Coates to set it up for tomorrow. Unless—”

“No, tomorrow is quite fine.” They stopped in front of the boarding house. “Thank you for carrying him,” Elizabeth said, reaching for her son. “I can—”

“I can take him up,” Jason said at the same time, and her hands dropped to her side. “If—if that’s okay.”

“I suppose—I mean, all right.”

The boarding house foyer was empty, the lamps turned down for the evening. He was relieved to see Britta Westbourne, the woman who ran the place, not behind the desk. They climbed the stairs and went down the hall to the pair of rooms Dillon had reserved for her. At least the idiot had done one thing correctly, Jason thought as Elizabeth slid a key into the lock.

“Thank you again,” Elizabeth said after Jason had deposited Cameron in the bed. The little boy had felt heavier in his arms than he’d expected, but since the last child he’d picked up had been his nephew—

Jason exhaled slowly at the memory. He’d held Michael after the two-year-old’s death, carrying him to the coffin that would hold him for the rest of his life. By the time the cholera had claimed, the boy had lost weight and had weighed little. Cameron was a healthy boy of four years old. Of course he would be different.

Jason rejoined her in the main sitting room as she turned up two of the lamps, giving the warm a bright soft glow. They stared at each other for another moment, filled with an uncomfortable mixture of tension, awkwardness, and something else—he should bid her goodnight and head out to the ranch to make it ready for two new occupants.

But he felt it difficult to simply leave. He’d woken this morning without much plan for the day or his life. He’d been avoiding his grandmother’s wishes to marry and settle down by claiming he couldn’t find someone who would suit him.

Was it the height if insanity to suppose his cousin could have found someone who would by picking out a familiar name from a cluster of letters? She was a beautiful woman—that was impossible to miss, and any man would have given her a second glance with her deep  blue eyes, soft skin, and chestnut hair. And maybe Jason would have sought her company out if she’d been from Port Charles. But what did they really know about one another? Could the small mixture of facts be enough for a lifetime?

“This has been the strangest day,” Elizabeth said, breaking the tense silence. “I’m not sure why since little has changed for me. I came to Colorado to marry you. But you—” She twisted her hands. “You must tell me now if you’re having second thoughts. It might be too late later.”

“Not second thoughts,” Jason said. He approached, took her hands in his to stop her from twisting and wringing.  The palm of her hands were tough, and he could feel the missing portion of her finger. There were callouses on the tips of her fingers. And yet, her grandmother had described a family that had run in the same society as his own. She wouldn’t have been raised for such hard work and labor. “You told my grandmother that your parents sent you away.”

She frowned, confused at the twist in the subject. “Yes. I told you the same—”

“Was that the only option they gave you?” he asked, not entirely sure why it seemed important. “Did they learn of your condition and that was it?”

“No. No. They—” She drew her hands back, curling one into a fist—the one with the finger, he realized. She was embarrassed by it. “They wanted to send me away until the baby was born, and then I could come home without him. I simply don’t think about that much as it was never a serious option for me. I would never see my son again.” Elizabeth sighed, looked down at her hands. “Alex and I were childhood friends. It was always understood that we’d marry, and we were fortunate enough that we cared for another. He knew about the baby. He was looking forward to being a father, and promised me no one would even blink at a seven-month birth. It happens all the time, he told me.” She bit her lip. “We loved our little boy before he was even born. How could I give him away and pretend he never existed?”

So she’d chosen the harder road. The one that left her with few choices and a short life span, if the injury to her hand was any indication. Because she wanted her son.

“I’m sorry for them,” Jason told her, reaching for those hands again. Uncurling her fist in his, stroking her palm. “As my grandmother said, it was their loss. I am not having second thoughts,” he told her.

“It’s important to you that I chose to keep my son?” Elizabeth said, drawing her brows together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

He didn’t either. Not really. “I don’t, either.” He dipped his head to kiss her, curious if it would feel the same as it had earlier that day when he’d sought to prove his physical attraction to her or if it had been a fluke. The power of novelty.

She tasted like the cream in the dessert his grandmother had served after dinner, her lips soft and sweet. He nibbled at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth, dipping her head back, allowing him a deeper, longer taste.

No fluke, he thought a long moment later when he finally stepped back, steadying her as she swayed a bit. Her eyes opened slowly, the blue deeper and slightly gazed. She licked her lips and he thought of kissing her again.

But the reminder that her son lay sleeping only feet away behind a door that was not closed, and that she would be his wife tomorrow was enough to keep the distance. He kissed the inside of her palm. “I’ll speak to the Reverend in the morning and send word of the time.”

“All right.” She followed him to the door. “Good night, Sheriff.”

“Jason,” he corrected, as he turned to face her, standing in the hallway. “My name is Jason.”

“Good night, Jason,” Elizabeth said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Good night, Elizabeth.”

+25

Written in 83 minutes. Sorry this final scene just wanted to be a bitch, and then people kept calling —

Elizabeth received a note shortly after breakfast that the ceremony was set for noon that very day. She stared at the letter, sliding her fingertips over Jason’s handwriting. He wrote in with clear, block letters — so different than the letters she’d thought were from him which had been written with loops and swirls. Another reminder of how little she really knew about the man she was going to take to husband.

“Mama?” Cameron tugged on her skirt. “We go outside?”

“In a little.” She perched on the edge of the chaise. “You remember Jason from last night? We met his grandmother and cousin?”

Cameron nodded. “New papa.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Yes,” she said carefully since Jason hadn’t denied the title when Cameron had asked his question the night before. They would be married. And if the universe was kind, there would be more children. Cameron might not ever remember being without a father.

Please, she thought, closing her eyes. Let this be the right choice. Let my son have a better life than the one I’ve given him.

“We’re going to the church in a few hours,” Elizabeth told him. “And Jason and I will get married. Then we’re going to live at his house. He told me it was a ranch which means there’s lots of outside.” A ranch meant land, didn’t it? There were none of those back in New York. Land and animals, and maybe a different view of the mountains that had captured her  eye from the moment she’d seen them.

“I live outside,” Cameron decided. She smiled, slid her hands through his blond hair. Her precious little boy who was worth any sacrifice. She could do this. She could do anything to make him happy.

She washed Cameron and herself with the water delivered along with their breakfast, then dressed Cameron in the suit he’d worn the night before. His finest, she thought proudly as she straightened his jacket. She’d saved her pennies until she could afford the material, then had sewn until candles in their rooms were gone so that he would look his best in church.

Then she pulled out the best dress she owned, though it was several seasons out of date. She  hoped that might not matter out here in Colorado. The fabric was a bit faded, and she’d had to trim the fraying ends of the cuffs a few times, but it still fit nicely and she thought she looked quite nice in this light shade of blue.

When the knock came just before noon, Elizabeth was ready — their things gathered and Cameron’s hair combed.

But it wasn’t Jason on the other side of the door — but the cousin. The cousin who had written the letters, sent the money, and made arrangements. He looked like Jason, though a lankier, less solid version with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Uh, Miss Webber.” Dillon coughed. “Mrs,” he corrected. “Mrs. Webber.” He smiled. “Grandmother sent me to fetch you. She said it was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding.”

“Oh. Well—” Elizabeth nodded. “All right. That—” She stepped back to let Dillon and close the door.

“I’ll come back for your things after the ceremony,” Dillon continued. “Grandmother said not to worry about anything. You look nice,” he added.

“You not the papa,” Cameron said suspiciously. He looked at his mother. “You said the papa come to get us.”

“The papa—” Dillon repeated. “Oh, no, little guy.” He knelt down to Cameron’s level. “Your mama looks so pretty that we want her to be a surprise for your new papa, right? So I’m going to take you to him.”

“Mama always pretty,” Cameron said with nod. He jabbed a finger at his chest. “I best and handsomest. She said so.”

“Absolutely.” Dillon grinned, then got back to his feet. “And, uh, I think I owe you—” The tips of his ears went red, then spread to his cheeks. “I know I owe you an apology. For what I did. I just wanted him to be happy, but he wasn’t doing anything, and it was wrong of me to think he should just…not tell you.”

“You—” Elizabeth arched a brow. “You brought a woman across the country to marry him without a word and thought he should fulfill that promise by lying to me the rest of our lives?”

“When you say it outloud like that-” Dillon grimaced. “It just sounds bad. But your letters talked about how much you loved your son and wanted a good life for him, and my cousin deserves a family. He was so good with my nephew—” And then some of the life left his eyes. “He just should have a family. That’s all.”

“It’s all seemed to work out, I suppose, and it’s…sweet that you want that for him,” Elizabeth said. “I accept your apology.”

“Good. Good. It was a dumb thing to do, and it could have gone so wrong.” Dillon brightened. “But I knew Jason would meet you and it would be okay. And it is now. You got here yesterday and now today, you’re going to be my cousin and we got a new little guy as a bonus.”  He held out his arm. “Shall I walk you over to he church now?”

—

“I’m not sure I understand how this happened,” Michael Corinthos, better known as Sonny, a neighboring rancher, offered as he shrugged into the uncomfortable suit jacket that completed his church outfit. “You weren’t betrothed yesterday.”

“I was,” Jason said, looking around his friend who had agreed to stand up with him as a witness for the wedding. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah, a granddaughter of an old friend.” Sonny squinted. “Not sure I believe it.”

Jason scowled. “Not asking you to believe anything. It is what it is. And you’ll make sure everyone else knows it, too.”

“Right.” Sonny shook his head, then smiled as Jason’s grandmother swept down the aisle. “Good morning, Mrs. M.”

Lila nodded in greeting then turned to Jason. “Elizabeth is here,” she told Jason. “I offered to have Dillon escort her down the aisle, but—” She turned as Dillon joined them. “Is she ready?”

“She’s just adjusting the tie on the little  guy. Says the only man going to give her away is the one she’s already got.” Dillon shrugged. “Works for me.”

“Little guy?” Sonny echoed. “Is there part of the story I don’t know yet?”

“She has a son. A four-year-old,” Jason added as Lila and Dillon went to sit in the front pew and he went towards the reverend. “Thank you for doing this today.”

Reverend Coates smiled gently. “If you’re ready—” He nodded at the organ player.

“Yeah, uh, go head.”

The sound of the pipe organ filled the small church and Jason took his spot, turning towards the back, unsure exactly what he was feeling — was it a desire to rush out the back door and disappear? Or maybe a renewed irritation with his cousin for starting all of this—

Or the universe for sending cholera to take so much of his family, leaving his grandmother to fret about her remaining grandsons—

Whatever he was feeling, it disappeared as Elizabeth came around the edge of the doorway, her hand clutched in Cameron, the little boy smiling brightly. She stood just at the end of the aisle, a bonnet secured over her brown hair—a shame, he thought idly, he liked her hair—and her deep blue eyes sweeping across the church.

“She’s not moving,” Sonny said, through clenched teeth.

“Shut up,” Jason muttered. She’d been a swirl of nerves since the moment he’d revealed the truth about the letters and how she’d ended up in Colorado. Had Dillon said something stupid? Had he made her feel like this was pity?

Worried that she was going to dart from the church, taking Cameron with her, and make a beeline for the train deport just down the road, Jason went up the aisle to meet her.  “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“I—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, her lips trembling. “I don’t want you to regret this,” she managed. She looked at him, and there were tears clinging to her lashes. “Promise me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” he said gently. “I know you wanted Cameron to escort you down, but we can go together, right?”

“Y-Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. He lifted Cameron into his arms, perching the boy on one side and reaching for Elizabeth’s hand with the other. “If you’re sure.”

You couldn’t really be sure of anything, Jason thought. His brother had certainly thought Caroline was the right wife, and that hadn’t turned out well. And he’d been sure that he wouldn’t need to have a family — his sister had always wanted a large family. As many as she could stand, she’d laugh, then bounce Michael in the air, the infant giggling. Jason had been sure that he’d have a lifetime with them, to watch his sister have her dream, to see Michael grow up tall and strong, his own person.  He’d taken it for granted that they would always be there. That he’d have time to fix things with his father and grandfather—

There were no guarantees in life, he thought. Only promises. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “I’m ready.”

—

He’d been so kind when she’d frozen at the church doors like an idiot, Elizabeth thought. Surely that was a good sign. And he’d carried Cameron down the end of the aisle and set him down next to the dark-haired man with the suspicious eyes. Cameron had beamed up at him, and called him the papa again, and no one had even flinched.

Then they’d spoken their vows, Jason holding her hands. At the end of the ceremony, he leaned down and gently brushes his lips against her cheek.

Now, as they drove towards his ranch, a few miles out of the town proper, he’d told her, Elizabeth reminded herself that in exchange for his kindness, she’d be the best wife. She’d figure out how to be a better cook, his home would be sparkling, and there would never be a single of hole or frayed—

And then she realized that the building in the distance was the house. Her throat tightened. It wasn’t the three story mansion she’d visited the other night, but it was a large home. With an open porch that swept around the house—and there was a stone fence with an arch they drove under.

When he’d said ranch, she’d expected something more rustic, she realized. Something that…something that looked like the crude illustrations in the dime novels she’d read as a girl in the circulating library back home.

But this was…this was something more. He pulled the wagon in front of the house—a set of stables were set maybe fifty feet away from the house with training yards. Beyond that, there was a barn — and she could see cattle in the distance. Horses. This was a large ranch. An estate some might call it at home.

“Are you ready?” he asked. “Alice has been looking forward to meeting you and Cameron.”

“Alice—” Elizabeth squinted as Jason leapt nimbly down. He lifted Cameron over the side, making sure to clear the wheel, then held out a hand for her. He helped her down, careful to keep her skirts from getting caught in the wheel. “Who…who is Alice?” Did he have a daughter? She thought frantically. Was that why—

“Mister Jason!” A cheerful booming voice came from behind them and Elizabeth turned to see a tall woman, with a stocky build, and short curling hair standing at the top of the stairs. “It’s about time.”

“That’s Alice,” Jason said, with a sigh. “She still greets me like I’m a child. When I left home, my grandmother insisted on sending her with me,” he added. “She’s the housekeeper.”

“You won’t have to lift a finger,” Alice said as she bustled down the stairs, her smile growing wider. “And this must be little Master Cameron. Hello, young sir.” She stuck out her hand to Cameron who was still looking everywhere with fascination. He shook her head. “And—” If possible, Alice’s face lit up even more. “You’re the new missus. I just about gave up on this boy giving me babies to spoil—”

Jason grimaced, but there was humor in his eyes. A housekeeper, Elizabeth thought faintly. “Hello,” she managed.

“Come in, come in. You must be worn out after all that traveling, and then the boy gets that ring on your finger without even bringing you to see your new home—”

“I’ll get the bags,” Jason said, releasing Elizabeth’s hand. “Alice will take care of everything.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. Housekeepers didn’t do everything, she thought. She could still find something for her to do, some way to keep Jason from regretting taking a chance —

But inside the house, she felt still more echoes to her childhood. What a piece of civilization she hadn’t expected, she thought, sliding her fingers over the smooth bannister of a sweeping staircase that climbed to the second floor. The floors were a smooth wood, and wallpaper adorned the rooms, light and airy as large windows in the sitting room opened up to a view of a small body of water, the mountains in the distance.

It was a beautiful home that wouldn’t look out of place in Port Hamilton, she thought, turning in a small circle.

“Jason told me you came from New York, so I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Mister Edward built the best for his Lila,” Alice told her. “He loved her so very much. Wasn’t happy about Mister Jason moving out on his own, but Missus Lila handled everything. Not much he won’ do to make her happy, even build this place just the way she wanted.”

Not much he won’t do, Elizabeth thought, even marry the stranger his cousin dumped on his doorstep.

“Now, don’t you worry about anything. You won’t have to lift a finger,” Alice continued. “I take care of the cooking, see to the cleaning—you’ll be pampered like a princess. I’m so very glad you’ve come to stay,” she told Elizabeth.

She nodded, just a short jerking motion, then forced a smile at Cameron who had gone to a window to look at the horses. “Mama, look—” he pointed. “The papa has horses.”

“He trains some of the best horses in the region,” Alice told Cameron. “The name Jason Morgan is getting known for it. Or was until Missus Lila made him take that sheriff job last year. To keep him close,” Alice confided.

“Can I go see the horses?” Cameron wanted to know. “Please, Mama—”

“Not—Not right now.” Elizabeth needed a moment. Needed to gather herself, and think.

“You must be exhausted. Mister Jason—” Alice swept out of the sitting room where Jason was coming in from the stables, having put up the wagon and horses. He had Elizabeth’s bags in his hand. One in each. All she had in the world. “You should take the missus to wash and clean up. I’ll show the little master to his room so he can see everything Missus Lila sent for him.”

“Sent for him?”Jason repeated. Then looked at Elizabeth. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes.” She smiled. “I’m fine. But the wagon was dusty. I’d like to—”

“Yeah. Okay.” He took her arm and led her towards the stairs. “I’m sorry,” he said as the went up the stairs, keeping his voice low so that Alice, on her way behind them with Cameron, couldn’t hear. “There’s really no way to prepare you for Alice.”

“No, I understand.” She managed another smile as he led her down a hallway and pushed open a door. It was a sprarsely decorated room — with a double bed, a dresser, and a table with a porcelain bin and pitcher for washing up. Her stomach pitched. Was he putting her in a guest room?

“I’m sorry,” Jason said closing the door. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never spent a lot of time in here. There’s not much. Um—you can do whatever you want to the house. I mean—”

“This is your room,” Elizabeth said, as relief swamped her. “I just—”

“Yeah, I don’t really need a lot,” he continued, setting the bags on the bed. “My grandmother really did the house, but left this for me.”

“Right.” She curled her hand in a fist at her waist. “You’re very lucky to have someone like her. Who cares so much.”

“I know. And Alice—she, uh, lost family in the epidemic, too,” Jason said. “A husband and a son. So if she’s…she comes on strong. But I can talk to her—”

“No, no. She’s wonderful. It’s all—it’s a wonderful home,” Elizabeth said quickly. “It’s just…not what I was expecting. No wonder you didn’t look very hard for a wife.” She said the final part, meaning it to be a joke, but it came out a bit more shaky than she meant it to. Of course Jason hadn’t looked for a wife. What need did he have? He had a grandmother who decorated his house, and a housekeeper who took care of him better than any mother Elizabeth had ever known—

Jason came over to her, took her hands in his, then stared with confusion as he slid one finger tip over the glove on her hand. He gently pulled it off, and her cheeks flushed. “You stuffed it,” he said.  She yanked her hand back, curling it back into a fist.

“I—I wanted it to be…” To fit the one pair of gloves she owned. So that no one would notice. Why did he always see it?

“You don’t have to.” He tugged off the other glove, set them both on the dresser near them. He met her eyes. “I didn’t look very hard,” he told her, “because no one interested me.”

Interested. He’d told her he was attracted to her, and she hadn’t really known what to do with that, but of course, she’d forgotten another reason a man might marry. Especially one out West where men outnumbered women.

“Then I am very fortunate,” Elizabeth said, “that I was not ill-featured.” She smiled again, but he just tipped his head.

“You are beautiful,” he acknowledged, releasing one of her hands and raising his own to her  face, sweeping his thumb across her jaw. “You’ve looked in a mirror, so you know that to be true. But there are pretty women here, too.”

Oh, well, then—

“When you opened the door yesterday and decided that I was not good enough for you,” Jason said, “because you thought that I thought badly of your son, you had my attention.”

“You enjoy women yelling at you?” Elizabeth said, her eyes searching his. He’d told her that before, but she hadn’t believed him.

“For all you knew, I was the man who wrote those letters and was now rejecting a little boy I had promise to love as my own. And you were angry enough to reject me first. Because you fight for what matters.”

“Yes.”

“I thought that my cousin was right,” Jason continued. “I would do anything for my grandmother. And almost anything for him,” he added and she smiled at that. “Because they matter to me. I know something about taking care of family.”

If this was supposed to make her feel better, it wasn’t quite working but she appreciated that he was trying. He would do anything for his family, and he had. And he’d been kind enough to try to convince her that it was more than pity that had caused him to offer for her.

And she could do far worse than a handsome, kind husband who only needed a wife to have someone in his bed. Love at first sight only happened in dime store novels.

She leaned up to press her lips against his, softly and a bit shyly. She had little experience to draw upon, and it had been years since she’d initiated intimacies. Lucky for her, Jason was happy to take up the reins. His hand slid around to cup the back of her neck, his other arm around her waist to pull her closer. She had a second chance, a miraculous new start, and she was going to make the most of it.

Jason would never, ever regret marrying her, and she was going to be the best wife she could be.

+34

Written in 60 minutes.

Jason woke to the normal sound of a rooster crowing, streaks pink and orange streaking across the sky, the soft light illuminating through the lace curtains that hung over the window facing the bed. He had woken at dawn for most of his life, teased by family members for being an early riser who needed little sleep. As a child, he’d bounced from his bed and headed out to climb trees, go swimming, fishing, and find whatever trouble there was to be had. As an adult, he’d begun his work day, heading to the stables or town.

On this morning, two weeks after he had found himself in a church wedded to a woman he’d known little more than a day, Jason was content to remain just where he was, Elizabeth’s body snug against his own, her light breathing sometimes lulling him back into a light sleep. He nuzzled the side of her neck, sweeping her hair back so he could press his lips to the soft skin.

“Mmm,” she murmured, shifting slightly. Her hand found the arm slung across her and laced their fingers together. “Good morning.”

“You should rest,” Jason said, but he nibbled at her earlobe, and she turned to face him, her features only dimly visible in the weak light of the dawn. “You had little sleep.”

Elizabeth smiled, the curve of her lips drawing a matching expression on his own face. “Whose fault is that?” she teased.

“Well, the first time, it was me, but I believe it was your leg brushing against mine the second.”

“And the third?” she asked with an arch of brow, sliding a hand up his bare chest to touch his cheek, the leg in question moving ever so slightly so that he was cradled between them.

“I think that was mutual,” Jason managed as he dipped down to brush his mouth against hers, then his lips trailed down to her collarbone.

“Okay, but this one is definitely on you,” she said with a bit of laughter. He cut off the mirth with his mouth again, swallowing her giggles.

—

A few hour later, Jason strode into the jail house and tossed his hat over the post. He’d much rather be back at the house, working the horses, and with Elizabeth. Not that she needed him, he thought as he relieved the night deputy and checked on the few inhabitants of the cells in the back. But he still would rather be there.

Everyone was just where they were supposed to be, so Jason went back to the front room to see his cousin sitting at the desk, putting his feet up. “Comfortable?” he said dryly.

Dillon scrambled to his feet, flushing hard. “I didn’t—I didn’t know you were here—uh, where—you stabled Ronan, then?”

“Yes.” Jason folded his arms, trying to pretend he was still unhappy with his younger relative. It had been easier in the beginning to hold on to his irritation—whether or not Jason had decided to go through with Dillon’s insane plan, it had still been irresponsible and nearly cruel to drag a woman and her child across the country the way he had.

But over the last week, as Jason felt more and more like a husband, he had to admit that his cousin could have chosen far more poorly. It was likely Jason might have felt obligated to any woman his cousin had dumped on him in this situation, but Elizabeth wasn’t just any woman.

“You, uh, want me to head over to the postal office?” Dillon wanted to know, nervously shuffling his feet.

“Yeah, you do that.” Jason watched him scramble to leave, shaking his head. No, he wasn’t even a little irritated with the kid anymore, but that didn’t mean Dillon had to know that.

—

Elizabeth only wished she was feeling the same level of satisfaction Jason was at the moment. Miles away, she found herself a bit at her wit’s end, unsure how to fill the hours.

For more than four years, she had filled every hour of her day with hard work and little rest. Now, thanks to Alice, there wasn’t even mending to do. Not that Elizabeth could manage that — the first time, she’d tried, she’d been abruptly reminded how things had changed.

She sat on the sofa, flexing the fingers on her hand again — the missing piece of her index finger made it nearly impossible to hold a needle steady — something she hadn’t realized. Which meant much of the way she’d filled her time before Alex’s death and her parent sent her away was also out of the question. She’d enjoyed knitting and needlework — but all of that was lost to her.

“Mama…” Cameron came into the room, dragging a string which had a little wooden wagon attached to it. His face had a small chocolate stain — Elizabeth smiled. Her little boy was being spoiled beyond his—or her—wildest dreams. A bit of restlessness and boredom seemed  small price to pay for the happiness her son was enjoying.

“I see you’ve been bothering Alice again,” Elizabeth said, reaching for her handkerchief to dab at the chocolate. “You must let her see to her work.”

“She likes to give me treats,” Cameron said somberly. “It makes her happy. Mama, where is the papa?”

Elizabeth smiled at him, running her finger through his blonde hair, the curls of his toddler ears already straightening out. “Papa has a very important duty in town,” she reminded him. She lifted him into her lap, cuddling him closer. “He is the sheriff.”

“Sheriffs protected the people.” Cameron sighed, and turned into her embrace, his breathing slowing as he began to doze, falling into his morning nap. “Want the papa to play.”

“Some day soon,” Elizabeth said, stroking her son’s back. Jason worked so much in town and didn’t spend much time at the ranch — Cameron didn’t have a lot of time with him. Elizabeth worried over that, but Alice said it was normal. Since his grandmother had saddled him with the position, Jason was at the jail more than at the ranch.

That was all right, Elizabeth thought. He came home to her every night and she knew he was happy with the arrangement so far, though they had little time for talk, she reflected. But she enjoyed what they had so far, and perhaps it would get better. He might hire another deputy — or even better, surely there would be a child. Oh, she wanted more children. A little brother or sister for Cameron. A baby would fill her time.

Yes, everything was lovely, just as she’d hoped. She only had to make sure they stayed that way.

—

To her surprise, Jason was home for supper that night and Cameron was delighted. She hoped he might one day stop calling Jason “the” papa, but it had helped to bridge an awkward situation, as the title seemed to make Jason smile.

Alice dished up a bowl of stew and set it in front of Cameron, then another for Jason. “Good to have you home, Master Jason,” she said a bright smile. “Pretty wife and handsome boy waiting for you all the long day—”

“Oh—” Elizabeth widened her eyes. “No, we’re quite all right,” she protested as Alice disappeared into the kitchen. “Alice told me you’re rarely here.”

“Grandmother,” Jason said with a wince, “thought having me appointed sheriff would be good for me. I’m sorry—”

“No,” Elizabeth repeated, with a shake of her head. He mustn’t think she was unhappy or complaining. “It’s an important duty.”

“Mama says you take care of people. All the people,” Cameron said, stirring his strew. “Can I be a people?”

Jason tilted his head. “You already are. Everyone in Port Charles and the area is under my protection.”

“But you always with the people,” Cameron continued. “You see them. Not me. So I not a people.”

“Cameron—”

“Want to fish and swim,” her son said, looking at Elizabeth. “You said no. So maybe the papa can.”

Jason’s brows drew together and he looked at Elizabeth who exhaled slowly and forced a smile. “He’s wanted to explore all the parts of the ranch, including the lake. It’s all I can do to keep in sight. I—I don’t know how to swim. Or fish. If there is someone who can show me, I’ll—”

“No.” Jason set down his spoon, and something passed over his face, a slight tightening of his jaw. It was gone so quickly she nearly missed it. Oh, he was unhappy. She was making demands of him. She hadn’t meant to— “No, you—if you want to learn, I can show you. I can teach you both.”

“Really, you don’t—”

“I haven’t made many adjustments to my life,” Jason said, and then he smiled but it didn’t feel real to her. It didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “In town most of the day. Leaving you and Cameron on your own out here. I—”

“I really promise you it’s quite all right. I’ve told Cameron your duties—”

“I’ll take a day this week,” Jason interrupted and she closed her mouth, staring down into her stew, miserable. “With good weather. I’ll make sure to do that at least once a week. If not more. I’ve needed to hire another deputy—and I told my grandmother I didn’t want to be appointed next year.” When Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, he continued, “I’d told her that months ago,” he said gently. “I’d rather be here. You and Cameron are giving me the excuse.”

“So I be a people then?” Cameron asked, screwing his face up in concentration.

“The most important people,” Jason pledged, and this time when he smiled it was genuine. Cameron’s face lit up. “I’ll teach you to swim and fish. And anything else you want.”

“See, Mama, I told you the papa would do it,” Cameron told Elizabeth who just smiled weakly and avoided Jason’s curious eyes.

—

That night, Elizabeth was almost dreading going to bed. She lingered over Cameron’s routine, sponging the day’s exertions from his little body, tugging the nightshirt over his head, tucking him into bed, telling him stories until he drifted into sleep, his precious body curled around a rag doll he’d brought with him from New York. Elizabeth had tried to fashion it into a puppy — Cameron loved dogs, and he wanted one quite desperately.

Finally, she had no reason to avoid her own bedroom and the light had disappeared, the sun had sunk below the horizon. Would Jason be irritated that Cameron had pushed him into a promise to spend time with him? Did he feel obligated?  She fretted over the possibilities, but it was time to face her husband and whatever reaction he had to the dinner.

—

Jason would have been surprised to learn Elizabeth worried so much about the promises extracted that evening. He missed being at the ranch, and having a small boy eager to play and be rowdy was the perfect excuse to take a day or two away from the job.

And it had been a bit jarring to hear that Elizabeth had been making her own excuses for his absence from Cameron’s life. Jason had always gone to work an hour or two after dawn, and returned near twilight. He hadn’t really thought about those hours coinciding with those that Cameron was awake. But now he worried — did Elizabeth think he was avoiding her son? Did Cameron feel unwelcome?

He went to their bedroom at the usual time, a bit surprised not to find Elizabeth already in bed. She’d fit in nicely wit his schedule but now he wondered — did she keep the same hours as he did because she might not otherwise see him?

He’d spent the whole day entirely satisfied with his marriage and life, but now he was afflicted with doubts. Had he been failing and not realized?

Elizabeth came in a few moments later, and turned up one of the gas lights. She smiled at him. “It was nice to have you here for supper,” she said, drawing her nightgown from the post next to the door. “A lovely surprise.”

“I’ll be going in later and coming home sooner,” Jason pledged. “I should see Cameron in the morning—” He paused. “Why didn’t you ask me about taking him swimming or fishing?”

Elizabeth frowned at him, her fingers paused over the buttons of her shirtwaist. “Because you were not here to ask,” she said after a long moment. “And I just assumed you would be too busy—”

He’d had a brother to show him all those things, no matter how little he and AJ had quarreled as adults, and Jason had thought of teaching his nephew one day. It shamed him a little that he hadn’t thought of taking Cameron out on the lake. For a little boy who called him “the” papa, it was no wonder Cameron didn’t view him as “his” papa.

Jason crossed to Elizabeth, brushing her fingers away from her button, accomplishing the task himself. “I am not too busy for you,” he told her. “Or for Cameron. But I cannot read minds. I hope that you will both ask me for what you want. Or need.”

“All right—” Her eyes searched his, and then she smiled a bit tremulously. “But you’ve done well so far without any guidance from me.”

“I am relieved to hear it.” He dipped his head and kissed her, his second favorite part of the day.

+35

Written in 55 minutes. You should know that nothing about this part was in my outline, but then Cameron asked to go swimming and you all said wow that will be fun to read, so you only have yourselves to blame.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure why, but she nearly expected Jason to forget about the day he’d promised them that week, or to make excuses.

Or perhaps she had told herself to expect the worst so that she would be ready to console her son.

But on Thursday morning, when the rooster crowed and jarred Elizabeth from sleep, Jason didn’t stir from their bed. He drew her more snugly against his body, his breath warm on her neck. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “We don’t need to be up for a few more hours.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Cameron might have different ideas.”

His lips brushed her neck, and she sighed. “Well, the door is closed,” she murmured. She twisted in his embrace, the streaks of dawn lighting the room. Elizabeth threaded her fingers in his dark blonde hair, brushing it away from his face. “You’re really taking the entire day?”

“I told you I would.” He kissed her fingertips. “I always keep my promises.” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Do you think I’d change my mind even when Cameron hasn’t talked about anything else all week?”

“No. Of course not.” She forced a smile, a bit embarrassed. “I thought maybe you’d just come home early.”

“I said I’d take the day. I want to,” he said. “And you’re coming with us. You should learn to swim, too.”

“Oh.” She widened her eyes. “I hardly think—”

“We live on the water. The lake isn’t so deep out here, not like the Grand,” he said. “This is little more than a watering hole.”

No, and Grand Lake wasn’t even nearly as large as Lake Ontario had been at home, but she’d still gone her entire life without stepping foot into the water. “Yes, but—”

“I can’t always be here. I want to be sure you’ll be safe. And that Cameron will be safe.” And with that, she was convinced. Once Cameron got his feet in the water, she knew it would be difficult to keep him out of it. She’d need to be able to fetch him if necessary.

“All right, but I draw the line at fishing.” She wrinkled her nose. “I won’t be touching those worms.”

“Deal.” He brushed his thumb across her lips, dipped his head to kiss her again. “Any suggestions for what to do until breakfast?”

“Just a few.”

—

Despite his excitement, Cameron slept like the dead and had to be roused from his bed nearly two hours later. Fortunately, as soon as he opened his eyes and saw Jason next to his mother, he leapt from the bed, his rag dog falling to the ground. “Fishing!” He pumped both fists in the air. “I get to touch worms!”

“Great, you can help your mother bait her hook.”

Elizabeth scowled. “We had a deal—”

“You said you wouldn’t touch worms,” Jason reminded her. “Cam, you’ll do it for her, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.” Cameron looked at her somberly. “I will touch the worms for you. It will be fun.”

She shuddered, stooping to pick up the rag dog. “Make your bed, Cam, and make sure that Archie doesn’t get lost.”

“Archie?” Jason inquired.

“My dog.” Cameron showed him. “Mama made it for me. We couldn’t have a doggy at home. Too many stairs. So I got Archie.” He hugged it to his chest, set it on the table next to his bed, then reached for his blanket, struggling to pull it over the bed. Elizabeth helped, straightening the edges he couldn’t manage.

Jason picked up Archie, examining it for a long moment before handing it to Cameron. “Did you want a dog?”

Elizabeth froze in the act of fluffing Cameron’s pillow, then looked at her new husband. He couldn’t mean—”

Cameron’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “I can have a dog? For me?”

“Why not?” Jason said as if he were offering a peppermint sweet. “I’ll ask around and see if anyone has a litter or is expecting one. We might not get one right away, but we can make—” He closed his mouth as Cameron launched himself at Jason, wrapping his arms around his legs. “That’s a yes, huh?”

“I will take the bestest care of my dog, promise. I’ll be good, and the puppy will be good and it will be the best dog ever, and I will be the best kid—”

“You’re already pretty great,”  Jason said, ruffling his hair. He stooped down in front of Cameron. “And I’ll help you take care of him. But it might not be right away,” he repeated. “Is that okay?”

“I will wait forever,” Cameron said nodding fervently. “As long as it takes. Mama, is it my birthday? Is there a sweet for me?”

“No, dear.” Elizabeth laughed. “We had your birthday in New York. Remember?”

“So I swim and fish and get a dog, and it’s not my birthday?” Cameron asked. His blue eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, though she understood why he needed to ask again. There had been so few treats for him in his four short years — every scrap of joy and extra cent had gone to giving him a little bit of happiness when she could. In just one day, Jason had made all her son’s come true—and it was just an ordinary Thursday.

It was difficult to wrap her mind around how quickly their lives had turned, how lovely it was now—and she was an adult.

“Time to get dressed,” Jason said. “And breakfast. You need to eat before we go fishing.”

“Oh, don’t—” Elizabeth made face, pressing her hand to her abdomen. “I feel sick just thinking about the worms.”

—

Before Jason would take them out in the little wooden boat to start fishing, he wanted to teach them how to swim—or at least how to float.

“Swimming will take longer,” he’d told Elizabeth as they walked about halfway down the short pier that stretched out of the lake on his ranch. “Floating is the first step.”  He sat on the edge and pulled off his boots. “First things first, we need to take off some of these clothes.”

Elizabeth’s face flushed and she crossed her arms over her shirtwaist. “I beg your pardon.”

“Floating,” Jason said, grinning up at her with such a wicked tilt to his mouth she nearly lost her breath. “Those skirts weigh quite a bit.”

“Yes, Mama—” Cameron chucked his shirt and fought with his laces. “You said to do whatever the papa says.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, then nodded. “All right.” She eyed the ranch house and the barn beyond it. Jason followed her gaze.

“I’ve given everyone the day off,” he assured her, and she looked back at him. “I knew you didn’t have anything dark enough to swim in.” He got to his feet, reaching for the buttons on her shirt-waist. “It’s just us today,” he said, unsnapping the pearl-shaped button. It felt quite indecent for his hands to be on her buttons in broad daylight, with her son just nearby, but Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to stop him.

He tugged the edges of the shirtwaist apart, untucking them from her skirt, revealing the thin chemise beneath. Jason hesitated, letting his hands fall to his side, his own breathing changing slightly. He stepped back, clearing his throat. “You can—you know how to do the rest. I mean you could have—”

“I can do it,” Elizabeth interrupted, tearing her gaze away. She carefully folded the shirtwaist, set it on the docks, then toed off her shoes and unfastened the skirt, breathing in a sigh of relief as the heavy fabric dropped away, and the cool summer breeze hit her skin.

“I’m ready!” Cameron declared, spreading his arms out at the side, completely unaware of the interplay between his mother and stepfather. Dressed only in his little white drawers—just like Jason, Elizabeth realized with a start. They were all nearly naked. Outside.

“Okay—” Jason slid off the pier into the water, and she was relieved — it only reached halfway his shins—which would be mid-chest for Cameron. He reached for Cameron. “You ready?”

Cameron hesitated, looked at his mother. “Mama first,” he said, nerves lacing his tone. “Mama.”

Elizabet sat on the edge of the pier just as Jason had, the thin white fabric of her pantalets fluttering in the wind. Once she was in the water, the water would cling, she knew. It seemed so strange to be casual about it — even though she and Jason had shared a bed for weeks, and made quite good use of it.

The bright sunshine made everything a bit different.

Jason held out her hand and she slid off the pier—the water coming up just past her knees with the height difference—She gasped as the cold splashed against her skin. “Oh—”

“Is it fun, Mama?” Cameron wanted to know. He sat on the edge, his legs dangling off. “Is it okay?”

“It’s—” Elizabeth dipped her fingers in the lake. “It’s lovely, Cam. Just what we need on a hot summer day.”

Cameron bit her lips, peered at the water, all of his bravado gone. Before Elizabeth could do anything, Jason scooped him off the pier, holding the little boy against his bare chest. “I’ve go you,” he promised. “Nothing will happen.”

“I want to swim,” Cameron said, but he sounded less sure now.

“Let’s do it little by little. You tell me when to stop.” Jason slowly lowered Cameron into the water feet first, and Cam giggled when his toes were submerged.

“It tickles—more!”

Jason kept lowering him until Cameron’s feet were firmly on the lake floor, and he was submerged to the mid-chest. “Mama! I’m in the water!”

“Yes, you are. Do you like it?”

Cameron splashed the water and it hit Elizabeth. He laughed, then did it again. “Is this swimming? Am I swimming?”

“Not yet. First, we float. We’ll teach your mother later,” he said. “We need to be in deeper water for that, but this is perfect for you.” He knelt in the water, and, bracing one arm around Cameron’s shoulder and the other underneath his arms, he gently dipped Cameron back until he was lying on his back. “The most important part of floating is using your muscles. You have to push with your legs to keep them straight. Do you feel it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out.” Jason took his arm away, but kept hold Cameron’s shoulders. Elizabeth’s  breath caught as Cameron sputtered and slipped under for just a moment, then Jason brought him back up into the floating position, his arms supporting him. “How did that feel?”

“Weird, but I think—” Cameron screwed his face up. “I think I get it. Do it again.”

“Oh—” Elizabeth bit her lip, crossed her arms. She had to trust Jason knew what he was doing.

Jason released Cameron’s legs again and this time—they stayed up. “Let go of me all the way,” Cam said.

Jason hesitated, then obeyed—and Cameron stayed up right, his small body floating for almost ten seconds before he lost control and dipped under, Jason scooped him up immediately, and Cameron was giggling, wiping the water from his face. “I did it! Papa, did you see! I did it!”

Papa. Not the papa, but Papa—Her throat tightened as Cameron wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck, clinging, a smile stretched from ear to ear.

“I saw,” Jason said, hugging him back. “You’re doing great!”

Cameron decided he didn’t want to go fishing until he could float longer, so Jason patiently kept getting him into position, then scooping when his little muscles couldn’t hold him. Over and over again.

Elizabeth perched back on the pier, content to watch them play in the water together. No one would ever guess that they shared no blood — Cameron looked more like Jason than he did her. He’d inherited the sunny blond hair from Elizabeth’s mother, but it might darken to Jason’s blond as Cameron grew older.

She sighed a bit wistfully—when Cameron had been born, she’d hoped he’d take her his father. A physical resemblance would be the only piece of Alex she’d ever be able to share with her son. But he’d always looked like her.

Cameron finally tired of the floating near noon, and climbed out of the lake with Jason’s help. “Did you see, Mama? I float.”

“You float very well.”

“You turn.” Cameron looked at Jason. “Papa, tell her.”

“Oh, but—”

Jason hoisted himself out, rivulets of water streaming down his chest, and—she looked away, her cheeks flushed. “We have to go out to the end of the pier for water deep enough,” he said, slicking back his hair. He held out a hand. “Come on.”

When they reached the end, Jason got back in the water, and looked at Cameron. “It’s too deep for you,” he said firmly. “Promise to sit right here.”

“Promise.” Cameron nodded. “Mama, I wanna see you float—”

“Here goes nothing,” Elizabeth said, slipping into the water, gasping as her entire body became submerged, nearly to her shoulder. “Oh, that is—” Water was everywhere, and it was so cold— “That is quite different.”

Jason grinned. “All right. Let’s see if you can float.” He braced an arm around her shoulders. “Kick up with your legs. Bring them to the surface.”

“All right—” Dubiously, Elizabeth followed his instructions—and then was pleasantly surprised as her legs broke out of the water, and she did feel…oddly weightless. “Oh…this is amazing.”

“Mama! You did it so fast!”

Jason stepped back, gently releasing her shoulders until Elizabeth was floating on her own. No wonder he’d suggested starting with floating. It could become her favorite way to spend the day. She closed her eyes, the warm sun beating down on her from above, the cold water seeming to hold her from below.

“A natural,” Jason said. She opened her eyes—then sputtered as she lost track of what she was doing, and her legs slipped back under water. He laughed and dragged her back up, holding her against his chest, the flimsy fabric of her chemise doing very little to act as a barrier. “You all right?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I think I will like learning to swim.”

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