Ever Faithful

“Yes, I don’t know how it happened, but Sandover’s hoof grazed my shoulder. It feels a little better now.” Amy pulled a face. “But not much,” she conceded. She turned to Paul who leaned his head against the wall beside him. His even features looked relaxed, his shapely mouth curved into a gentle smile. She remembered countless times she had lost herself in daydreams over his face, creating the eternal cliché. Young girl in love with older neighbor boy. But Paul always humored her, and in return to her love letters, would write his own back—joking letters full of his terrible puns, reassuring her that someday her prince would come. In his way he gently broke it to her that the prince wouldn’t be him. He didn’t intend on staying around Williams Lake long enough to fill that role for her.

“What are you smiling about?” he prodded.

“Remembering old daydreams,” she said turning her engagement ring on her finger. Her love for Tim gave her the confidence and ability to look at Paul with new eyes. Her reaction to him this afternoon was more about the surprise of seeing him than anything else, she had concluded.

“And what conclusion have you come to?”

“That you were right,” she said. “You weren’t the right person for me. And I wasn’t the right person for you. I see that in each and every girlfriend you bring home.”

“And what do you think of this one?”

“Hard to say. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to her yet.”

“And I haven’t met your Tim.” He smiled back at her. “So what’s he like? Does he floss? Work out? Watch his cholesterol level? Tell me how you met.”

And Amy did. She had been arguing with her accounts manager when Tim Enders walked in. In a matter of minutes he had soothed the ruffled feathers and managed to put together a deal that worked for everyone. And then he had asked her out for dinner.

“One date led to another and pretty soon we were horseback riding, going for drives, fishing and, most important of all,” she added with a conspiratorial grin, “sitting together in church. And that pretty much sealed the engagement. It wasn’t official until the day we were up in the mountains for a hike.” Amy fell silent remembering the burst of sheer joy when he asked her, the feeling of belonging to somebody who wanted to share his life with her overwhelming her.

“He’s a lucky guy.”

“And I’m very blessed.” Amy nodded, looking down at her engagement ring once again. “I want to be a good and faithful wife to him.”

Silence hung between them punctuated by the sounds of laughter coming from the living room below as both realized the import of her words.

“I know you will be, Amy. You are a person whose love is faithful and pure.”

“Thanks.” The compliment warmed her, creating a mood that seemed to settle their relationship onto a new and more comfortable plane. “And you’re a good friend.”

“One that hasn’t been around much lately,” he said with a rueful look.

“Well you’re here now, and I’m glad you came. And now I’d like to find out how Stacy managed to snag a guy half the girls in the Cariboo were yearning after.”

Paul laughed. “C’mon.”

“If I take away the ones that were panting after Mark Andrews before he got married and ignore the ones who are engaged,” Amy pursed her lips thoughtfully, “maybe not quite half.”

Paul just shook his head.

“So,” Amy continued, “is she the one?”

“I think so,” Paul traced the crease of his pants, his look thoughtful.

Amy bit her lip, knowing her next question trod on shaky ground. “Which church does she go to?”

“None. But neither do I, so that’s no problem.”

Amy turned away, suddenly disappointed in her old hero. “That’s too bad, Paul.”

“You sound like my parents,” he replied testily.

“I was hoping I sounded more like your sister.”

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.”

Amy shook her head. “You’re five years older than me. I’ll always be younger. I’m hoping I will always be like a sister to you.”

“You’ll always be a sassy little redhead, that’s what,” Paul said, his smirk skipping over the serious tone of their previous conversation, creating an easy return to the give and take of their youth.

Amy glanced sidelong at him, her smile acknowledging the change in the tone of the conversation. Paul hadn’t changed, but as she analyzed her new feelings for him, she realized with thankfulness that she had grown up.

“There you are.” Stacy stood below them, smiling uncertainly up at both of them.

Paul got up and walked down to join her. “Just catching up with an old friend,” he said easily, brushing a kiss across her soft cheek. “You never did get a proper introduction to Amy did you?” He looked up at Amy, who still sat on the stairs, a soft smile curving up delicate lips tinted with gloss. Her gleaming copper hair flowed over her shoulders, curling up at the bottom. Warm gray eyes fringed with dark lashes looked down at him with humor in them.

The tomboy he had always remembered looked feminine and incredibly appealing. To be sure, she still wore jeans and a shirt, but the jeans were black, the linen shirt was decorated with embroidery on the sleeves. It was a look that suited her as much as Stacy’s soft flowing dress became her. He glanced at his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but compare the two women. Stacy always looked elegant, composed, everything coordinated. But the Amy in front of him looked nothing like the dusty, bedraggled girl of this afternoon. He remembered again how easily she handled a horse that he would have walked a wide circle around.

“So are you going to introduce us or do I have to do it myself?” Amy asked, tilting her head to one side as she came down the stairs.

“Sorry.” Paul mentally shook himself and drew Stacy closer. “Stacy Trottier, this is Amy Danyluk, neighbor, friend and the little sister I never had.” He turned to Stacy who shifted her cup of coffee to one hand and reached out one well-manicured hand as he spoke.

“So what kind of work do you do in Vancouver?” Amy asked, shaking Stacy’s hand.

“I work with computers.” Stacy pulled her hand back.

“That’s a pretty broad field.” Amy laughed. “What kind of work?”

Stacy took a sip of her coffee looking at Amy over the rim of her cup. “I set up Web-sites and program computers.”

“How do you do that?” Amy persisted, unintimidated by Stacy’s terse replies.

“Do you know what an ISP is or an HTML editor?” she asked as if challenging Amy.

Amy raised her eyebrows with a smile, as if unashamed of her ignorance. “I don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t even start, Amy,” Paul warned. “Stacy can talk about the ’Net until the cows come home, and you and I both know cows never do.”

“I don’t mind,” Amy replied. “Someday I’d like to get a computer. I’m sure there’s something on the Internet about cattle.”

“There is,” Stacy said, leaning forward. “You’ll find information on things you can’t even imagine.”

“And a lot of things you can’t imagine people would want to know,” Paul added.

Stacy shrugged. “That comes with the freedom of expression inherent in the Web.”

“I don’t think Amy’s particularly interested in the Internet anyhow. Why don’t you ask her about her cows?” Paul continued. Once Stacy started on her favorite topic, she didn’t easily stop. He knew Amy was only being courteous.

But neither paid him any attention. Amy asked Stacy another question. Amy was always polite, Paul thought. Always polite and always careful to make people feel good. For a moment he thought she would be put off by Stacy’s abrupt attitude, but Amy acted as if she hadn’t noticed.

Paul watched as she tilted her head to one side, trying to comprehend, interjecting with quiet questions. She nodded, as if she finally understood and then dropped her head back and laughed at something Stacy said.

Her hair slipped across her shoulder, her gray eyes sparkled. Paul couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He watched her more than his own girlfriend. In fact, since the party started he had watched her, knowing where she stood and who she talked to and how much time she spent with Tim.

Not exactly the behavior of a man in love, he thought, criticizing himself wryly as he moved away from the bottom of the stairs and the two women, into the living room and the rest of his family.

His capriciousness seemed symptomatic of his life the past few years. What he had didn’t satisfy him, so he looked to what he didn’t have. As far as his relationship with Stacy was concerned, he had thought it would last longer than it had. It didn’t help that their work always seemed to come between them and their relationship.

That’s why he planned this trip home. He liked Stacy and knew he wouldn’t find better. He wanted to make their relationship work. He didn’t feel so empty when he was around her.

He worked his way through the family room, past the younger cousins who grumbled about homework and jobs. He dodged aunts who bustled about refilling coffee cups as they caught up on calamities and exulted over joys. He poured himself a coffee.

The house was full to bursting with family, friends and members of the church, and his harried mother was in her element. It had been a few years since Paul had been to a family get-together, and he hadn’t realized until tonight what he’d missed.

He and Stacy entertained frequently and attended functions put on by their friends. But that’s precisely what they were. Functions. Another tool used by those on the way up, to network, schmooze and gather information. He had enjoyed them, but each year created an increasing restlessness he couldn’t pin down.

The past months had been especially hectic. He and his partner, Bruce DeVries, had successfully bid on an apartment block in Victoria and two more in Vancouver proper. That meant evenings and weekends taken up with verifying subcontractors’ prices, meetings with engineers, organizing schedules, and all the while keeping the current projects flowing smoothly. It had just about fried him out.

This holiday had been in the works for a while. Plaintive calls from his mother and quiet requests from his father had been sandwiched between urgent faxes, whirlwind financing, cell phones ringing in his car and pagers going off on job sites.

Then his partner dropped the bomb. Bruce wanted to quit the business. He gave Paul first option to buy out his share. Paul felt as if he had come to an important point in his career. Buying Bruce out would give him the opportunity to expand the business in a way Bruce never wanted. He knew Henderson Contractors had the experience and reputation that would give them the edge in larger projects. It would mean bigger challenges and bigger returns.

Paul swirled the coffee in the bottom of his cup, frowning. It would also mean more work, hiring a couple of people to do the work Bruce did, more headaches and more stress.

He finished his coffee in one gulp and set the empty cup on a side table. Somehow none of these challenges held the allure it once would have. Lately he felt as if he ran harder and got nowhere. Always just out of his grasp was the happiness he kept thinking he would find with the right combination of changes in his life.

So when the invitation came for Amy’s engagement, he took a chance, scheduled three weeks of holidays so he could think. Maybe in the open fields of his family’s ranch he could find a way to fill the emptiness that grew with each increase in his net worth.

“So, how’s the family entrepreneur?”

Paul jumped as his uncle Gordon slung a friendly arm over his nephew’s shoulder, squeezing him. “You make that million you were always talking about?”

Paul grinned down at a smiling, bearded face, spectacles hanging as crookedly on his uncle’s nose as the oversize sweater did over his narrow shoulders. “It depends if you want to talk to my banker or the tax accountant.”

“Tax problems mean you’re making money, my boy.”

“I’ve never been able to render to Caesar what is Caesar’s without a lot of pain.”

“From the looks of that fancy car parked outside and that equally fancy girlfriend, I’d say you and Caesar are doing pretty good.” Uncle Gordon dropped his arm and pushed uselessly at his glasses. “You two going to get married?”

“Me and Caesar?”

“Oh, you’re still pretty fast. I mean you and that girlfriend.”

Paul stifled another groan. It seemed everyone in his family, from the youngest cousin to his aged grandparents, felt it their right to pry and find out the level of his and Stacy’s relationship. Trouble was, he thought, looking down at his favorite uncle, he didn’t even know that himself.

“Maybe,” was his noncommittal reply. If he said more, Stacy would find out before he had a chance to talk to her.

“Well I guess we’ll find out when you send out wedding invitations. I hope we’re going to be invited?”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t see too much of you these days. I’m just making sure you think of us when the time comes.”

Uncle Gordon’s tone was jovial, but the words hit the guilty spot that his relatives always struck with unerring accuracy. Family could do the guilt thing so well, Paul thought, working up an answering grin for his uncle.

“I’ve been busy, yes…”

“Idle hands aren’t good, either, but just don’t forget about us while you’re wheeling and dealing.” His uncle clapped him on the back. “You met Amy’s guy yet?”

Paul shook his head. Throughout the evening, people pointed out Tim with a nudge and a smile, as if Paul should feel slighted. They hadn’t officially met, however. “I’ve heard a lot about him,” he said instead.

“Tim’s just the man for Amy. If anyone can help her turn that ranch around, he can.” Uncle Gordon squinted up at Paul and, though his expression was kind, Paul could sense the slight note of censure in his voice. “He’s given her some good ideas and helped her out some.”

“Amy is a wonderful girl, Uncle Gordon,” Paul conceded, not needing anyone else pointing out her good points. “I’m glad that she’s found someone good enough for her.”

“I’ve always liked her.” Uncle Gordon looked past him. Then, with another pat on his nephew’s back, he left to answer his wife’s summons, leaving Paul to shake his head over his family’s bluntness.

He glanced across the noisy room. People milled about, rearranging the crowd. Finally he spotted Stacy. She had moved to the family room and was now cornered by his younger brother, Tyrell. Her short brown hair glistened, her expressive eyes crinkled as her mouth curved up in a smile. A response to some smart comment from Tyrell, Paul was sure.

With a proprietary grin, he sauntered over to claim her.

“Up for a game of pool?” His other brother, Derk, caught him by the arm as he passed.

Paul looked over to Stacy and Tyrell, now joined by his aunt Grace. He stopped, knowing exactly what she would be bringing up—each childhood prank, misdemeanor and his frequent brushes with the RCMP. He didn’t feel like rehashing old crimes.

“If we can get the rug rats away from the table, I’m game.” Paul followed Derk downstairs, shutting the door on the buzz of conversation, ensuring a break from further inquisitions from family. They were greeted by a louder burst of music as they reached the bottom of the stairs and the open recreation room dominated by a pool table.

“Shut that thing off,” Derk shouted to nobody in particular. And of course nobody listened.

Grumbling, he walked over to the shelf stereo that practically shook and turned it off.

“That’s my favorite song,” cried a young girl sticking her head out of a bedroom.

“It isn’t mine.” Derk took a pool cue and handed one to Paul.

“But Derk, it’s ‘Jars of Clay,”’ complained another, as if that explained everything.

“Well, I’m surprised they haven’t shattered by now,” he called back.

Paul laughed at the aggrieved look of his younger cousin and winked at her. “When we’re done you can deafen yourselves again, Tiffany.”

She looked back at him, frowning, then recognition dawned. “Oh, it’s you, Paul.”

“Oh, c’mon, it hasn’t been that long,” he complained, feeling her hesitation wounding him with a gentle pain.

She shrugged as if unable to spare the time to answer. Tiffany and another girl Paul didn’t recognize ducked back into a bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

“It has been a while, big brother,” Derk said, racking up the balls. “What was the last family do you came for?”

“Not you, too,” Paul complained, chalking his cue. “You know I was up for Christa and George’s wedding.”

“Did you know they’re having a real hard time toilet training their oldest child?”

“Right,” Paul said dryly.

“Who did you bring to that?” Derk frowned, his eyes unfocused as if reaching far back in his memory. “Christine?”

Paul wrapped his hands around his cue, resting his chin on them, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Juanita.”

“She the one with the black hair in those freaky triangle curls?”

“That was Jennifer. Juanita had short blond hair.”

Derk bent over, squinting down his cue at the white ball. “Then who did you bring to Aunt Grace and Uncle Siebren’s anniversary?”

Paul hesitated, realizing how bad this all sounded. “Pearl.”

Derk reached back and with a quick movement broke the balls, sending them scattering over the table with a satisfying snick. “Where does Stacy fit in the lineup?”

Paul walked to the other side of the table, giving his brother room to shoot. “Why do you need to know?” he asked peevishly, disgruntled with the turn of the conversation.

Derk dropped another ball into the corner pocket. “Because Tyrell and I have a bet going to see if you hit ten women before Mom and Dad’s fortieth wedding anniversary.”

“That’s sick.” Paul shouldered his grinning brother aside and lined up his own ball. He gave it a vicious hit and the ball caromed off the side, missing the pocket completely. “I haven’t gone out with ten girls, and you know it.”

“No, you haven’t,” said Derk, thoughtfully leaning over and sinking another ball. “Stacy’s only number eight.”

“I don’t keep track of the number of girlfriends. It’s not gentlemanly.” Paul stood back while his brother worked his way around the table, annoyed with the prim sound of his own words. He sounded like Aunty Triss.

“I would say going out with eight girls is not gentlemanly.” Derk straightened and flashed his brother a grin, taking the sting out of his words.

Paul merely shrugged and took his turn, uncomfortable with his brother’s comments, even though he knew they were made in fun.

“Don’t look so glum, bro. I was just kidding.” Derk elbowed Paul, causing him to miss a shot.

“Just for that I get two penalty shots.”

“Take all the penalty shots you need. You are getting so beat, it’s sad. All that carousing around Vancouver is taking the edge off your game.”

Paul shot Derk a warning glance. Catching the hint, Derk changed the subject.

The door above the stairs opened again and their father, Fred Henderson, came down the stairs, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired young man. Paul recognized Amy’s fiancé, Tim Enders.

Aunts and cousins had pointed out this wonderful man with indiscreet nudges and winks as if to show Paul he wasn’t such a big deal in Amy’s life. As if he didn’t know that already.

“Can Tim and I join?” Fred asked.

Paul only shrugged. Derk nodded.

“Have you already met Tim?” Fred directed his question to Paul. Paul shook his head, reaching past his brother to shake Tim’s hand, then stood back assessing him.

Tim’s finely sculpted features were set off by dark wavy hair. He was the same height as Paul, almost the same breadth. Handsome if you like the sulky model look, thought Paul, knowing he was being judgmental. He blamed it on the mood his brother had put him in. All evening he had been hearing Tim’s praises sung and his own shortcomings brought forward. And now he was faced with this paragon of virtue, and he didn’t think he liked him very much even though he couldn’t think why not.

They racked up the balls and soon were involved in an excruciatingly polite game of pool. Ten minutes into the game, the door opened again. This time a pair of slim, jeans-clad legs showed themselves at the top of the stairs, paused a moment, then Amy descended.

Paul watched as Amy looked around the room, her eyes flitting with disinterest over everyone there, including him. It wasn’t hard to see the moment she spotted her fiancé. Her soft mouth parted in a gentle smile. She walked around the pool table to lean against Tim, gazing up at him with the same adoring look that once had been directed at him.

And Paul didn’t like it.

“Are you sure you want to go home now?” Tim dug through the jumble of coats on the freezer. He pulled Amy’s out and handed it to her.

Amy nodded, the pain in her shoulder making it difficult to ease the coat on. “I feel bad that Dad and Rick left early,” she said. But that was only a small part of the reason. She felt like the day had started twenty-four hours ago, instead of eighteen. It had been an enjoyable evening, but tiring.

The porch door opened, and Elizabeth burst through it. “There you are!” she exclaimed, stopping short as she saw Amy putting on her coat. “You aren’t leaving yet? Fred, tell her to stay awhile.” Elizabeth turned to her husband, who only shook his head, winking at Amy in understanding.

“I’m tired, Mom. And my dad’s already home.” Amy smiled up at Elizabeth and Fred, reaching out to both of them. “I was just going to go looking for you to thank you for this evening. It was wonderful.”

“I’m so glad we could do this for you, honey,” Elizabeth drew Amy close and stroked her hair. Amy ignored the pain in her shoulder as she let herself be held, enjoying the security and familiarity. She straightened and stepped into Fred’s open arms that clutched her too tightly.

“Sorry, honey,” he apologized as he felt her wince. He loosened his hold, but didn’t let her go. “We’re so glad for you and Tim.” He gave her one more careful squeeze, then reached past her to shake Tim’s hand.

“Thank’s for all you did for Amy and me tonight,” he said as he stepped back. “I’m sorry my parents couldn’t make it, but I enjoyed meeting the rest of the Henderson family.”

The moment lengthened as Amy felt her love for these surrogate parents deepen and tears threaten. Finally Tim opened the door to the outside, breaking the atmosphere. “We should go, Amy.”

They exchanged another round of quick goodbyes, and Tim and Amy stepped out into the soft night. The moon was a silver disk pressed against a black velvet sky scattered with handfuls of stars. Amy looked up and offered a quick prayer of thankfulness. How blessed she was to live here and to think that their children would be able to experience the same open spaces.

Tim opened his car door for Amy but didn’t close it when she stepped in. Instead he looked down on her, his shoulders and head silhouetted against the moonlight. Amy felt his waiting and glanced upward.

“What is it?”

“You look beautiful….”

Amy smiled back, a gentle warmth suffusing her. His compliments still made her feel slightly uncomfortable, as if she expected some other, truly beautiful girl to step up from behind Amy and whisper her thanks to Tim.

“I just wondered,” he continued, “why you didn’t wear your dress tonight?”

Amy caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She had been careful all evening, not hugging him and staying on his right side. So far she had managed to keep her injury hidden from Tim. He hated it when she worked with the horses.

He waited. Quiet. Still. If Tim wanted her to tell him something, he only had to wait. Her own desire to fill the silence would draw out any secret she tried to hide.

But tonight she didn’t feel like telling him and wouldn’t get drawn in by his patience. She still had to load the dumb horse in an old truck with no tailgate and take him somewhere. If Tim knew that, he would be after her to get someone to haul it for her, and she couldn’t afford that.