I Am Not Yours

Another Christmas

July 1915

Abigail spent the next week comforting Elizabeth leading up to Jack's funeral and once his widow left for Hamilton to stay with her parents for awhile, Abigail did everything she could to ignore telegrams from Mountie headquarters about assigning a new one to Hope Valley. She knew that Elizabeth wasn't ready for a new one to replace Jack yet and frankly, Abigail wasn't ready either. She told herself that she wouldn't approve of any other Mountie that wasn't him. It wouldn't be the same. No one could do the job better than Jack and she didn't want to have to prepare herself for that disappointment just yet.

When it came to Henry, she tried to keep herself busy though every time they saw each other, she couldn't help but gaze at him and daydream. It would take all her strength not to approach him in the streets or go to the saloon late at night to see him. She wanted to. But she kept herself away from him, her confusion only growing more and more as the days went by.

It wasn't long before Elizabeth returned home from Hamilton and Abigail's focus was once again on her best friend. She tried her best to help her through her pain, but almost nothing worked. Soon, Elizabeth told her that she was going to move away because everything in Hope Valley reminded her of Jack. That was when Abigail remembered what Henry had told her. Gathering the other widows as a support group for Elizabeth might be a way to comfort the school teacher.

And it did. And soon...they discovered that Elizabeth was expecting a baby. Not only was Abigail focusing on her work as the mayor and at the cafe, but as a mother, a friend, and now a friend to an expectant mother too. She was, once again, too busy to spend any time with Henry or figure out what it was about him that confused her so much.

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December 1915

Months passed and they were approaching yet another Christmas. Abigail began to wonder how time was moving so fast.

"Abigail?" Rosemary's voice echoed in Abigail's head as she rolled the dough in the cafe one winter morning.

"Hm?" The mayor looked up at her friend.

"You just added salt to that dough." Rosemary informed her.

"I did?" Abigail looked down at the bag of flour sitting beside the bag of salt and she blushed slightly. "Oh, dear."

"Did you even hear a word I said?" Rosemary asked her kindly. "You seem otherwise distracted."

"I am sorry. What were you saying?" The cook asked while she threw the compromised dough into the trash and she began to make more.

"We need to begin preparing for Christmas." The actress told her. "I can take charge again, of course. But we will need to decide on all of the Christmas dishes and desserts. And, oh!!! I thought that perhaps this year, we can have someone from each family in town bring a dish, that way the pressure is not all on you this year." Mrs. Coulter smiled. "What do you think? You could bring the main course and then everyone else can bring the sides and desserts and we can have a large feast in the saloon. Oh, it'd be lovely!"

"That's wonderful, dear." Abigail agreed. "I would really appreciate that. Especially after all that's happened."

"Are you alright?" Rosemary asked her with a look of concern.

"I just have a lot on my mind." The mayor told her as she began to knead more dough.

"Such as?" Her friend waited for an answer and when she didn't get one right away, she spoke again. "You can tell me anything. You should know that by now."

"Oh, it's just...the loss of Jack and poor Elizabeth."

Rosemary's expression changed from a look of concern to a look of disbelief. "Really? Abigail, you can't fool me. If that was what was truly on your mind, you would have just told me....Does this have anything to do with Henry Gowen?"