Ever Faithful

“I spilled something on it when I was trying it on yesterday, and it was still wet when I came back from Kamloops,” she said finally.

“Is it stained?”

“I don’t think so.” She smiled back up at him. “I’ll have it clean for Sunday, don’t worry.”

Tim laughed and pushed shut the door, leaving Amy squirming with a mixture of guilt and annoyance. She had stained the dress, and it was still damp, but she could easily have worn it.

Except it wouldn’t have hidden the purple and blue hoof-shaped bruise decorating her bare shoulder. And now she had spun an even tighter web by promising she would wear it on Sunday, three days from now.

Tim was too caught up in how she dressed, anyhow, she consoled herself. Until she met him, a shirt with buttons and pressed blue jeans was about as dressed up as she got during the week. Sundays, an old split riding skirt of her mothers did just fine. Anything else required too much care and maintenance.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t wear it tonight,” Tim continued, getting in the car. “I love how it looks on you.” He reached over and Amy braced herself for a hug, but thankfully he only brushed his lips across her cheek.

“Yah, it is too bad,” she agreed, looking ahead, feeling guilty about the lie in spite of her justification.

They drove in silence until they reached Amy’s house. A yellow glow spilled out of a downstairs window.

“Either your dad fell asleep reading, or he’s waiting up for you,” remarked Tim as they drove up the driveway.

“Probably asleep.” Amy had begged him to stay at the party longer, but he pleaded exhaustion. Amy didn’t know what from. His own chores were minimal, and when he was done, he spent the rest of the day in front of the television. Rick had been polite. He didn’t mind the Henderson family, it was just Paul he disliked. Thankfully there were enough people there that he could avoid Paul most of the evening. But when Judd wanted to leave, Rick quickly volunteered to bring him home.

As they drove past the lit window, Amy swallowed her disappointment. She should have had two parents at the party tonight. If it wasn’t for the fact that Tim’s parents hadn’t come, either, her resentment would have been even greater. At times like this she missed her mother all over again.

Tim pulled up in front of the porch, put the car in gear and opened his door. Amy waited for Tim to open hers, thankful for the courtesy. Her arm hurt more now than this afternoon and she dreaded the affectionate good-night she usually got from Tim.

Their footfalls on the gravelled walk were the only sounds in the darkness. They reached the house. Amy lifted her foot to take the first step up the stairs when Tim suddenly caught her by the shoulder, turned her around and almost dragged her into his arms.

She fell against him, unable to stop the soft cry of pain suddenly stifled by his lips.

He pulled her closer. Amy squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to cry out, to push him away from the agony pulsing down her arm. She tried to turn, to find a better fit, when just as suddenly, Tim released her.

Amy took a step back to balance herself, supporting her right elbow.

“What’s the matter, Amy?” Tim looked down at her, his eyes two dark smudges, his expression unreadable. “Why is it so hard to let me hold you? Why have you been avoiding me all night?”

Amy waited until the pain settled down to a dull throb, then looked up at him realizing where her half truths had taken her. “I’m sorry, Tim. I should have told you earlier.” She looked away, guilt making her hesitate. “When I caught Sandover this afternoon, he must have hit me with a hoof. My shoulder’s all bruised and swollen.”

“And that’s the real reason you’re not wearing your dress?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, still looking down at the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I know you’d be angry.”

“Amy, what kind of man do you take me for?” He reached over and caught her face in his hands, his thumbs gently forcing her to look up at him. He bent over and carefully brushed his lips against hers. “Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of me?”

Amy shook her head, realizing how ludicrous it all sounded. She knew now, facing Tim’s gentle concern, that she had, as usual, underestimated him. “No, I’m not afraid of you. I guess I just don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well, I do. And that’s okay. I love you so much, and I don’t like to imagine you working with that crazy horse. I wish you’d get rid of him.” He gently drew her near, careful this time not to jostle her shoulder. “But what you told me isn’t as bad as what I thought all evening.”

“And what was that?”

Tim hesitated, a sigh lifting his chest. “I thought that Paul’s return gave you second thoughts about us.”

“Never think that, Tim,” Amy pulled back to look up at Tim, her voice almost fierce. Amy clutched his shirt, disliking the turn of the conversation, afraid of his doubts. Doubts come before the engagement, not after. “I made a promise to you. I’m going to keep that promise.”

Tim smiled and caught her hand in his. “I know, Amy. I’m sorry I doubted you.” He fingered her ring, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’ve spent most of the night having Paul pointed out to me. To the Hendersons’ credit, they all said I was better for you than Paul ever was.” He looked into Amy’s eyes and smiled. “But I was starting to wonder…” He hesitated. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what really went on between you and Paul?”

Amy felt her heart lurch. She shook her head, almost smiling at her own foolishness. “I never made a big secret of my crush on Paul. And that’s all it ever was. A crush. To Paul I was just a pesky little girl who followed him and wrote notes to him.” She looked up at him, willing him to believe her. “I’ve never meant anything to him, and in the past few years, I’ve realized that he’s not the kind of man I want as my husband. He’s had more girlfriends than you have even dreamed of, and he’s lived a life that is far beyond what I seek in a husband.” She smiled as she reached up to touch his smooth cheek. “Our relationship is built on a communal faith in God. Something I think my parents missed out on.” Her heart constricted as she thought of her mother. Her broken vows had created a heartache that Amy would never wish on any child. “You wait and see, Tim Enders. I’ll be a good and faithful wife to you. I will.” Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she pulled Tim’s head down, sealing her vow with a kiss.

Chapter Three

Paul paused in the doorway of the kitchen. He had been on his way outside, but the sight of his mother at the sink stopped him. The morning sun shone on her short gray hair, neatly combed. The sleeves of her cream-colored jersey were pushed past her elbows and black stirrup pants cinched bare feet.

“Why don’t you grab a towel and pitch in?” she said when she caught his reflection in the window in front of her.

“I haven’t done dishes in years. When are you going to get a dishwasher?” Paul yawned as he ambled into the kitchen. He leaned over to plant a kiss on his mother’s cheek. He grimaced at the dishes piled high on the counter, hooked a stool with his foot and dropped onto it. “I thought we did all the dishes last night.”

Elizabeth shrugged, rinsed off a cup and set it on the drain tray. “I found these downstairs in the spare room.”

“Well it wasn’t us. Dad, Derk and I were playing pool with Amy’s fiancé most of the time.” Paul rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and tugged the dish towel off his mother’s shoulder.

“And what did you think of Amy’s Tim?”

“Seems okay,” Paul replied, keeping his tone non committal. “I have a hard time seeing him living on the ranch like he says he will.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Why?”

“C’mon, Mom. Did you see what he wore last night?” Paul stuffed the tea towel in a glass and twisted it. “Looked like he was auditioning for a spot on a soap opera.”

“Actually he was dressed a lot like you.”

“This is the way to dress,” he said. “Old, faded jeans.” He tugged on the front of his shirt. “Old faded shirt. When in the country…”

“And it was their engagement party. Of course he’d be dressed nicely.”

Paul heard the tone of censure in his mother’s voice and it made him feel like a sulky teenager. But he pressed on. “That may be, but I still can’t imagine him living at Danyluks’.”

“He talks about doing it, so your imagination doesn’t count for much.” Elizabeth eased another batch of dishes in the sink.

“I hope he likes driving.” Paul commented as he pulled another dish off the tray. He wondered why he cared how Tim felt about Amy and the ranch. I could never stop being a big brother, he thought, smiling. “When are they getting married?”

“Amy hasn’t mentioned a specific date, although I think Tim would like it to be soon.” Elizabeth glanced at him over her shoulder. “She wants to get some money together and get the house fixed up before they move in. She also wants to get a trailer on the yard for Rick and Judd.”

“That would be a good idea. I can’t imagine four people living in that house.” Paul shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like she’s in any rush, though.”

“I think she’d like to get married soon, but her pride is preventing that. Pride and a lot of work. Rick’s a big help, but she still takes on most of the responsibility herself. I just wish she’d quit her job.”

“She still working at that accountant’s office?”

“She worked full-time up until four years ago—when Judd started getting worse. Now she just works part-time at the grocery store and tries to run the ranch on her days off.”

“What’s wrong with Judd?”

Elizabeth shrugged rinsing the cup in her hand. “He’s become much quieter. He used to be so stubborn and ornery, but not lately. Amy’s been pushing him to go to a doctor, but he refuses.”

“I’m surprised Amy still manages to keep up her relationship with Tim.”

“She and Tim spend many dates at home with Judd, keeping him entertained.” Elizabeth set the last of the cups on the drain tray and dried her hands.

“Doesn’t sound like such a bad way to spend a night.” Paul rolled down his sleeves as he thought of all the running around he and Stacy did when they found time to spend together. Supper out, the theater, opera, the occasional movie. An evening at home sounded appealing. “But you haven’t told me yet what you think of Amy’s Tim,” Paul teased as he finished drying the cups.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I like him very much. He’s a sincere Christian, he has a good job and is well liked in the community. He’s tall, good looking…”

“Sounds like you’re talking about Dad’s prize bull.”

“Don’t be flip,” Elizabeth admonished. “He’s worked at the bank for the past two years, so hasn’t really been around that long.”

“Long enough to make a move on Amy and propose to her.”

“Paul,” she warned.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t know he meant that much to you, as well.”

Elizabeth shot him a level look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

Paul looked back at her, holding her gaze. “I guess I just have to get used to the idea that little Amy Danyluk is old enough to get married.”

“She hasn’t been ‘little Amy Danyluk’ for a long time now.”

“She hasn’t been chasing me around for a while, either.”

“Aha, you are jealous,” his mother cried, laughing at him.

Paul flicked the towel at her in reply. “I’ll be able to dance at her wedding, Mom.”

Elizabeth, her face suddenly thoughtful, drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds out.

“Where are you?” Paul asked, setting a stack of plates in the cupboard.

“Being a mother. Thinking about weddings.” She looked up at Paul, her expression hopeful. “I guess I’m wondering if Dad and I will ever throw an engagement party for you.”

Paul sighed and leaned back against the counter, wrapping and unwrapping the damp towel around his hands. “Maybe. Someday,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

“You’ve been saying that for the past three girlfriends.” Elizabeth rescued the towel and hung it on the rack by the stove.

Paul blew out his breath and crossed his arms. He thought her lack of questions last night was due to a change in tactics, but he should have known she would corner him sooner or later. “I don’t think marriage always has to come up when two people are dating.”

“Then why are they dating?”

“Companionship, friendship…” The words sounded lame to him.

“Friends and companions you go fishing with. Girlfriends you kiss when you think your mother isn’t looking.” Elizabeth tapped him on the chest as she passed him.

Paul had to remind himself that he was almost thirty and hadn’t needed to answer to his mother for close to twelve years. “Stacy and I understand each other…”

“I would hope so, you both speak English,” his mother said with a laugh, leaning back against the counter beside him. “I know you’re serious about her, this is the first girlfriend you’ve brought here for longer than a day.”

Paul tapped his fingers against his arm, as he sought words to explain his and Stacy’s relationship. “I want her to see where I came from, what made me who I am.”

“And what did?”

Paul frowned.

“Made you who you are,” his mother explained.

He looked ahead at the neat table in the large kitchen, now pushed against the wall. Once it had been stretched out, surrounded with chairs, now only four chairs were tucked under it. He remembered many family meals around the table, times of sharing and Bible reading and prayer. How many times had he sat at this same table and looked out the window wishing he was anywhere else but here, in this kitchen?

“I’m not even sure who I am these days, Mom,” he replied softly. “I’m making good money. I have lots of stuff. The business is even more successful than I thought it would be. I always thought I could quit when I got to the point I wanted to, but I just keep on going and going. It doesn’t really stop.”

“The toughest thing about success is that you must remain being a success,” his mother quoted. “You don’t quit. It lures you on out of necessity or out of a desire to challenge yourself.”

Paul laughed shortly. “You’re right.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, studying the toes of his socks. “The only problem is each time I finish something, each time I check my bank balance, it still feels empty. I work and look forward to what I can buy with what I make, but by the time I open what I’ve bought, or park it, or moor it or whatever, it still isn’t really what I wanted.” He frowned, hearing his thoughts spoken out loud for the first time in years. Any girlfriend he had didn’t understand. They usually liked the fancy condo, the fast cars, dining out in fancy restaurants, the boat, the ski trips to Whistler-Blackcomb. Any of his friends openly envied his success. None of them would understand that he sought more and he hadn’t found it in spending or experiencing.

“What you’ve wanted all your life isn’t really what you need.”

Paul nodded. “I was just thinking that.” He lifted his head catching his mother’s concerned look. “Did you know how badly I wanted to get away from here? Did you know how dissatisfied I was once, with this life-style? With going to church? With living with people you’ve grown up with?”

“We knew.” Elizabeth reached over and rubbed his arm. “We didn’t like it, but we had to let go. Just like we had to let go of the other boys. Doesn’t mean we have loved you any less or prayed for you any less. Tyrell, Derk, they’ve each had to make their own choices, as well.”

“At least Derk is still close by.”

Elizabeth nodded. “He comes up pretty regularly. Helps out when he can. I think he’d like to start up his own place. If not here, then somewhere in the Cariboo. We never planned on building up this place for our children to take over. Your father and I wanted each of you to figure out for yourself what you wanted.”

Paul pushed himself away from the counter, a wry grin curving his lips. “Trouble is, Mom, I still don’t know.” He had tried to articulate to his mother the hunger that clutched him these days, a desire for more than he had. He felt as if he expended a lot of energy and received nothing for it in return. Hence the trip back home, to his family, to his spiritual roots.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here.”

“I guess it’s a beginning,” he admitted.

Elizabeth pushed herself away from the counter and, reaching up, pulled his head down to hers. She pressed a kiss on his cheek and smiled up at him with eyes as blue as his own. “I just want you to remember that Dad and I love you, but more important, God loves you.”

“I know that, Mom,” he whispered, pulling her into a fierce hug. “I just need some space and time.”

“You’ve come to the right place for that.”

Elizabeth hugged him back, and it felt so good.

The shrill ring of the phone broke the peace of the moment. Elizabeth pulled away and answered it. Paul leaned back again, a feeling of deep love for his mother filling him.

“Is Stacy up yet?” Elizabeth pressed the mouthpiece against her chest and turned to Paul. “It’s some fellow named Jonathan. Says it’s urgent.” Elizabeth lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Says the computer’s down.”

“I’m sure she is,” he replied, feeling a twinge of annoyance with Stacy for giving her workers the ranch’s number. They had promised each other an uninterrupted week at the ranch and whatever happened in Vancouver would be handled by their co-workers.

He ran upstairs and tapped on Stacy’s door. “Are you up?”

“Come on in,” Stacy called out.

Paul stepped into the brightly lit room, and his heart sank at the sight of his girlfriend sitting on the bed with papers scattered around her. He walked to her side and, picking up a file folder, playfully tapped her on the head.

“I thought we were on holidays?”

“Well—” she raised her eyebrows, flashing him a grin “—I was lying in bed this morning, trying to find a way to make one of my customer’s program work more efficiently and had an inspiration.”

“Jonathan will be glad to hear that.”

“What do you mean?” Stacy asked, reaching for a paper covered with scribbling.

“He’s on the phone.”

“Now?”

“As we speak.” Paul pushed some papers away and sat down on the bed.

“Why didn’t you say so right away?” Stacy jumped up, but Paul caught her hand.

“Because I thought this holiday was to be a break for both of us. I wanted to take you riding this morning without your mind on the office back in the city.” Paul ran his finger over her well-manicured ones, marveling at their softness. “I’m hoping you’ll tell him to take a hike.”

Stacy looked down at him, smiling lightly. Bending over, she brushed a kiss over his forehead then straightened. “A hike for Jonathan might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not the athletic type. I’m sure it’s some little problem I can fix over the phone.”

Paul smiled and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, watching her trim figure as she left, appreciating how she looked in jeans as opposed to Ungaro or Ralph Lauren.

He dropped his head against the wall, as he thought of his conversation with his mother a few moments ago. He liked Stacy, maybe even loved her. They had a lot of fun together. She laughed at his terrible jokes and enjoyed the same movies and music. She gave him business ideas and helped him with his computers, something he hated working with.

She was the first girl he had gone out with that didn’t bore him or talk about trivial things. He smiled as he remembered many deep discussions over economics and politics. Together they had saved British Columbia, Canada and North America many times.

He straightened, wondering what was taking her so long to return. He went downstairs to find her.

She was pacing around the kitchen, her hand worrying the phone cord, the receiver pressed against her head. She stopped, frowning at the floor. “It’s so hard to say from over here. Sounds like some hacker got past their firewall. No I can’t get on line from here. Doesn’t sound like it would help anyhow. Can’t you figure out what happened?” Stacy rolled her eyes and crossed the room once more, tethered by the telephone cord, fairly emanating frustration. “Okay, okay. I get the message. I’ll come.” She nodded impatiently. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” With an angry click, she hung up the phone, turning to Paul. Her expression was apologetic. “I have to go back….”

“Stacy, don’t go. Jonathan knew for the past month that you were leaving this week. Surely they can handle this small crisis.” Paul walked across the room and caught her by the shoulders. “This is the only holiday you’ve taken for a long time.”

Stacy nodded. “I know all that, Paul, but I won’t be able to relax knowing a customer’s system is down. It’s not really a small crisis. We just started up, and we can’t afford to lose any business. I can’t leave customers waiting.”

“What about a boyfriend?” Paul stroked her hair, his tone light, but his frustration just below the surface.

“I guess I’m hoping he’ll understand.” Stacy smiled up at him, but Paul wouldn’t be cajoled.

For the past months he had eagerly anticipated showing Stacy the place where he grew up, the hills he wandered through as a child. He wanted to show her that part of himself. He had planned riding trips, picnics and long, leisurely drives. Now, with one phone call from Vancouver, it all disintegrated.

“Phone someone else to take care of it,” he said, his voice clipped, hands resting on his hips.

“Paul, I’m the one who set up the system. I’m responsible for fixing the glitch.” Stacy reached up and cupped his face with her hands. “I know how much you’ve looked forward to this. I’ll try to come back as soon as it’s fixed. You’re going to be here another couple of weeks, aren’t you?”

Paul couldn’t help it. He pulled away. It had taken her months to arrange this particular holiday. He knew once she was back in the office another crisis would keep her there, then another and another.

Stacy tilted her head, taking a step towards him. “Paul please don’t be like this. If it was Bruce who needed help, wouldn’t you go?”

Paul looked down at her, trying to imagine the reverse situation and he knew he would have stayed. “When do you want to leave?” was all he said.

Stacy smiled her thanks. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Paul nodded and watched as she turned and ran back up the stairs to her bedroom. He glanced at his mother who frowned at the egg carton she had pulled out.

“I guess you won’t be here for breakfast.”

Paul shook his head. “We’ll probably grab something along the way. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter, Paul. I was only going to make some bacon and eggs.”

“With homemade bread and farm-fresh eggs.” Paul sighed, thinking about the rubber food they would pick up from a drive-through. “I’ll have to wait for that until tomorrow.”

“You’re coming back aren’t you?”

Paul winked at his mother. “I’m only going to be in Vancouver long enough to drop Stacy off, kiss her goodbye and head back here.”

He waited outside, leaning against his car. His eyes drifted over the hills, appreciating the emptiness of the country, the space that let you stretch your arms out. This was real, solid.

Stacy had tried to get him excited about staring at a computer screen, sending e-mail around the world with a click of a button, looking at things that moved on the screen, but he never picked up on her enthusiasm. He preferred dealing with people face-to-face. Cell phones, pagers, intercoms and fax machines were bad enough.

He sighed as he thought of the long drive down the Coquihalla and the even worse one through the oppressive bumper-to-bumper traffic of the heavily populated Fraser Valley. If he hurried he could be back here by late evening.

Stacy was even better than her word, and ten minutes later he stowed her elegant luggage in the trunk of the car. He started the engine while Stacy bid his mother a hurried goodbye and got in. The door barely clicked shut when Paul took off in a cloud of gravel and dust, disregarding the paint job of his car.