PRODIGAL SON

I know, I know. What am I doing starting another story when I have two unfinished ones in the works? Well, sometimes I get writer's block on some stories but I don't want to stop writing, so I try to write something else. For a couple years, I wasn't writing at all, for a variety of reasons, so I'm trying to come back to it, slowly but surely.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this except the story. All characters are the property of Janette Oke and Crown Media/Hallmark. This disclaimer extends to this and all future chapters.

Chapter One

A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh. [Ezekiel 36:26]

It was autumn in Hope Valley. As far as the eye could see were trees having changed from the brilliant green of summer to the cranberry reds, maple browns, and pumpkin orange of the fall. And many trees lining Hope Valley's main street grew heavy with their harvest of apples. The nights were colder now, so in the early evening, near twilight, someone walking down the street might smell smoke in the air, mixed with the pungent smell of cider, cinnamon and nutmeg. If you're lucky, you might even smell hot cocoa laced with honey, a popular drink at Abigail's café.

But the mood of the town these days was somber. It had been a few weeks since they had received word of Constable Jack Thornton's death and Hope Valley, which had been rocked with tragedy over the years, was still recovering from this latest blow. The laughter of children playing didn't ring through the town like it used to and the congregation at church each Sunday was quiet and reflective.

Out on the edge of town, Constable Thornton's grave was still fresh, the smell of the earth mixing with the scents of late fall. The bitter winds that blew through on occasion reminded the inhabitants that, even though autumn was still in bloom, winter was not far off.

Elizabeth Thatcher Thornton could often be found there, usually planting something by the grave. "To keep her hands busy," she'd explain to her best friend, Abigail. "And to make the spot more like a home."

Abigail understood. Understood the need to keep busy and distracted. "Just make sure you take care of the baby," she advised. "You do need your rest, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth sighed, "I know. But I find that I need to be doing something. I haven't been sleeping well, I'm queasy a lot of the time, and I just don't want to be alone with my thoughts."

"I understand," Abigail responded quietly, "After Noah and Peter died, I did everything in my power to keep from being alone. To keep myself from remembering what I had just lost. "

Elizabeth nodded, tears welling up, despite herself. "I don't know how I'm ever going to get through this, Abigail. I know I have the baby to think about and the children in school but I feel like …like…" She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

"….Like part of your heart is missing…" Abigail nodded in understanding, her heart aching for her grieving friend.

"Exactly." Elizabeth wiped a tear from her eye.

"You have to give it time." Abigail said, "it'll be difficult but, in time, I promise you, it'll get easier. Not better," she clarified, "but easier. Each day will be less and less painful – and eventually, you'll remember him with joy."

"I can't imagine ever not feeling this empty." Elizabeth said quietly.

"I know it's hard to imagine but trust me, trust God, He will heal the pain." Abigail embraced her friend as Elizabeth began to cry.

"I feel so silly," she sniffled, "I haven't been able to stop crying since it happened."

"That's normal too." Abigail said, "I'd be wondering about you if you weren't crying. Plus, you have all these additional hormones."

"Yes, I know," Elizabeth grumbled a little, "I am a little tired of getting sick at the smell of coffee…and eggs….and smoke…and…"

Abigail had to laugh, "How I remember those days! I know they're not pleasant but you're getting something so beautiful out of all this discomfort."

"I know," Elizabeth gave her a half-smile, "it's what helps make all of this more bearable. Knowing that part of Jack is still with me."

"Elizabeth, Jack will always be with you," Abigail gently patted her hand, "in your heart, in your memories, in your child. Everywhere you look. And, yes, it will hurt for a long time. But, eventually, you'll find joy in your shared places again. They won't always be a painful reminder."

"I wish I could skip all the pain and just get to that stage." Elizabeth said wistfully.

"Don't we all." Abigail replied. "But grief, pain – that's the price we pay for loving someone deeply."

"Makes me not want to love anyone again." Elizabeth whispered.

"You feel that way now." Abigail looked at her in understanding. "But, in time, you'll change your mind. Jack would have never wanted you to shut out the possibility of love again."

"I just feel so guilty even considering that possibility." Elizabeth admitted. "Like admitting that I might love again is being disloyal to his memory."

"Not at all," Abigail responded, "it's what he wanted for you, it's what he still wants for you."

"Oh, Abigail," Elizabeth hugged her friend, "you're such a treasure. Thank you for being with me through all of this. I don't deserve you."

"Nonsense," Abigail replied firmly, "it is I who are blessed with your friendship. Now, let's get you some biscuits. You have to keep up your energy."

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led away by the tempting promise of biscuits, one of the few foods she could still tolerate fairly well. The way I'm consuming biscuits, she mused, this baby will be addicted to them from day one!

After leaving a tired Elizabeth at her row house following a hearty dinner of biscuits, biscuits, and more biscuits, Abigail started back to her café. Twilight was falling on Hope Valley earlier now, and the days were growing shorter. And chillier. She shivered a little at the wind that tugged at her dress sleeves. My goodness, she thought, it is getting colder these days. Seems earlier than normal. Or maybe it's just grief.

Abigail Stanton missed her friend Jack. She had never forgotten the day he first left for the Northern Territories. His farewell to her had had such finality to it, even though he would eventually end up returning. "Take care of her, Abigail." He had told her, "She means everything to me." And she had kept her word to him.

His Elizabeth would never ever be alone.

"Evening, Abigail," a voice startled her from her thoughts. Although the light was nearly gone, she recognized the person immediately.

"Good evening, Henry." She said cordially. Given their history and his history with the town over the past several years, Abigail couldn't believe that they were now on a first name basis, exchanging occasional pleasantries when he would come to the café for a quick bite. But since his stint in prison, Abigail had noticed a deep change in Henry.

Most of the town (Jack included) had initially been skeptical of Henry's change. There were still many that refused to talk to him and would turn their backs on Henry when meeting him in the street. So Abigail had been told. She hadn't yet noticed it herself – maybe they didn't dare do it when the mayor was around?

"H-how are you?" He stuttered a bit. This new Henry, a far cry from the old, was a bit on the shy side. Kept to himself, didn't really socialize that much given that most of Hope Valley still were resentful over the things he'd done. Abigail didn't condone their resentment, but she understood it.

So did Henry. He had admitted to her several times that he had a long way to go to earn folks' forgiveness.

"Tired," she smiled, "busy day at the café and then I met Elizabeth out on the edge of town."

"She at his grave again?" He asked, seemingly abruptly, but Abigail noted a hint of concern in his tone.

"Every day." Her eyes looked sad.

"It's a hard thing." Henry started to say. "Constable Thornton was a good man."

"Yes, he was." She responded. "And a good friend to this town."

"Sure was. And one of the few that didn't completely reject me when…when I returned."

"That's the kind of man he was," Abigail simply, "you showed him you were trying to change. He saw that. He wouldn't have held a grudge against you, Henry."

"Maybe, maybe not." Henry shrugged. "If he had, I woulda deserved it."

"No, Henry," Abigail said firmly, turning to look him straight in the eye, "you would not."

"I stole from this town, Abigail. I let their men – your husband – die. There's no coming back from that."

"No one, Henry Gowen, no one is beyond redemption." She eyed him sharply. "There's no sin God can't forgive and if God can forgive you, Henry, no reason others can't."

"There are 48 good reasons, Abigail." Gowen replied softly, eyes cast down. "Many of them are buried out near Constable Thornton."

"Henry, listen to me," Abigail put one hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. He looked up but seemed almost too ashamed to hold her gaze. "You've made mistakes. Bad ones. But you're not unredeemable. No one is."

"I think you're the only one that thinks that." He grumbled.

"Give them time," Abigail said, echoing the advice she gave Elizabeth. "Time can soften the angriest of hearts." She gave him a faint smile. "It did with you."