Ever Faithful Read online

  “Will Tim help her out?”

  Rick shrugged. “I’m actually surprised he’s even moving out here. I have a hard time picturing him living in this house. But he says he’s going to. Must really love my sister, I guess.”

  “Amy’s not a hard person to make concessions for,” agreed Paul.

  Rick directed him a sharp look. “You really do care for her.”

  “Yes, I do. But I don’t deserve her.”

  Rick twirled his thumbs some more, the confessions of the past few minutes creating a silence that now felt comfortable instead of seething. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Go back to Vancouver…figure out what I have to do with my business and my relationship with God.” Paul tossed back the last of his coffee and got up. “Probably give Tim and Amy’s wedding a miss.”

  “She’ll be disappointed,” Rick said.

  Paul laughed shortly. “I doubt it. She doesn’t need me messing up her emotions.” He washed the cup as he glanced around the kitchen. He tried to imagine Tim in his crisp business suit sitting down to breakfast, while Amy scuttled about in her blue jeans and old baggy sweater, frying eggs, making coffee, listening to the stock market report on the radio.

  It wouldn’t meld. Instead a stronger image superimposed itself on the little scene—Amy and himself, sitting together at the table, discussing the work for the day. Paul gave his head a shake.

  Rick tilted his head to one side, a sad smile curving his lips. “You surprise me, Henderson.”

  “Well if I surprise you, maybe Shannon will, too.” Paul walked across the kitchen, his booted footsteps echoing in the silence. He plucked his coat off the rack beside the door and shrugged it on. He turned back to Rick, grasping the front panels of the coat with his hands. “Tell Amy what you told me. Tell her that ranching isn’t what you want to do, tell her about Jack’s offer. And while you’re making all of these startling revelations, let Shannon know how you feel. You might be surprised at her reaction.”

  Paul buttoned the coat, turned, and left Rick staring sightlessly out of the window with his chin propped in his hand.

  Chapter Nine

  “Where are we supposed to meet Rick?” Judd asked as he settled into the truck, puffing. The walk from the doctor’s clinic to the truck wore him out.

  “Jack Dilton’s garage,” Amy groused as she pushed the truck into gear, hoping it wouldn’t roll back down the hill she had parked on. “He wouldn’t say why, and I didn’t feel like asking.”

  Judd tapped his fingers on his crutches, staring at his daughter.

  “What?” she asked peevishly when she noticed.

  “You’ve been grouchy ever since you got back from Vancouver. You and Tim have a fight?”

  “Of course not. I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” She pulled into an empty spot in front of Jack’s garage and turned off the truck. “The hay needs to be baled, I need to get the garden produce canned and frozen, Rick keeps taking off on me, and this wedding—” She bit back the last comment.

  “What about it?”

  Amy chewed her lip as she stared ahead, wondering if her father would understand. “Mrs. Enders wants this wedding picture-perfect. It’s turning out to be a lot more work than I had anticipated.”

  “Just get through it, girl.” Judd looked thoughtful, then, with a rueful laugh, opened his door. “You’re right. The wedding isn’t as important as the marriage. Just do a good job of that.” He worked his way out of the truck, fitted his crutches under his arms and clumped up to the door of Jack’s garage.

  Amy followed, bemused at her father’s advice. The breakdown of his own marriage made his comments all the more poignant.

  They entered Jack’s garage, and the familiar smell of oil, grease and dirt filled Amy’s nostrils. A clipboard holding an assortment of papers marked with grimy fingerprints hung by a ragged string beside the cash register. Filters of all shapes and heights marched along a shelf behind the counter. Belts hung from the ceiling arranged in order of size. Beyond the swinging doors Amy heard the intermittent sound of a pneumatic drill and the clang of wrenches dropping on cement. An engine fired up. A voice called over the noise.

  The doors swooshed open and Rick entered the shop, wiping his hand on a greasy cloth, clothed in a blue coverall. When he saw Amy, he smiled sheepishly. “I was just talking to…uh…Jack.” He pointed his chin over his shoulder in the direction of the shop.

  “Did you ask him about finding a new motor for the tractor?”

  Rick nodded, looking backward as if waiting. The door opened again, and Jack came in. “Hello Judd, Amy. I won’t shake your hands, mine are too dirty.” He grinned at them holding up his hands. He turned to Rick. “I think I found out what I need to know. All that’s left is…when can we enroll you in school?”

  Amy’s mouth dropped open. “Enroll…school?”

  Rick licked his lips but avoided catching Amy’s eye. “I’ve made a deal with Jack. He’ll get a motor in for the tractor, put it in and get it running.”

  “Sounds good,” Amy said, her heart beginning to thump hard. She knew there was more.

  “I’ve got a low-boy unit booked to pick up your tractor first thing in the morning and Rick will pick up the motor later on in the day and get it in.”

  “And what will this cost?”

  Rick twisted the rag he held, glanced at Jack then back at Amy. “I’m going to be helping here for a few months. Part of those wages will go to pay off the bill. Then I’m going to be apprenticing for my heavy-duty mechanic’s ticket.” Rick wiped his hands again, as if intent on getting each piece of grime from under his fingernails. “I’ve tried to work on the ranch, but I just can’t.” He looked up, his expression pleading.

  “The ranch will never make enough money for two families, and I don’t like the work enough to want to expand. This way I can work for Jack and pay off our bill.”

  Amy felt her breath leave her as his words registered. Events from the past few months superimposed themselves over her confusion and anger. Rick’s reluctance to get truly involved, how he always managed to find time to work on the equipment, but not to help with the actual workings of the ranch. In many and varied ways he had been trying to tell her this, but she hadn’t seen. Too many things on my mind, she thought, rubbing her temple with one finger. She wished she could find the words of encouragement Rick seemed to be waiting for.

  “I guess this isn’t such a surprise,” Judd said, leaning forward on his crutches. “You were always fooling with engines and equipment on the ranch.”

  Rick looked eagerly to his father and nodded. “It’s the only thing I really enjoyed doing.”

  “Your son has been here every week helping me where he could,” Jack said with a laugh. “I think he’ll make a good apprentice. I can use him as a regular mechanic for now, and we’re hoping to get him booked into trade school come January.”

  Amy listened to the conversation, feeling separate from reality. She should have known. She should have seen it coming. I guess I didn’t want to, she thought, leaning against the counter.

  Rick tossed an expectant glance her way, and she worked up an encouraging smile. His excitement was plain. He showed more spirit about living with permanent grease under his fingernails than he ever had riding in the hills to check cattle.

  Help me to be happy about his plans, Amy prayed, help me to let go of what I want and put Rick’s needs first. She sighed and glanced sidelong at her father.

  Judd leaned heavily on his crutches, yawning. The doctor’s visit had worn him out, and Amy was glad for the excuse to leave.

  “Congratulations, Rick,” Amy said with a mighty effort to inject a note of enthusiasm into her voice. “You’ll have to tell me more later. Dad needs to go home.” And so do I, she added to herself. Rick’s sudden news had drained her. “Will you be home for supper?”

  Rick shook his head slowly, a blush staining his cheeks. “Actually, I’m going to Shannon’s for supper.”

/>   Amy blinked. Why not? One more surprise—other hints and comments she had missed that she should have caught had she not been so involved in her own problems. She worked up a smile, nodded at Jack and left the garage.

  She opened the door for Judd and helped him into the truck. As she walked around to the driver’s side, she swallowed down a feeling of panic. She couldn’t think about this yet.

  She got into the truck, started it and turned it around, deliberately blanking out the past half hour, preferring to concentrate on work—moving the cows down to the lower pasture and the work she hoped Rick would do to get the baler ready for the second cut of hay.

  Further than that, she couldn’t plan.

  “Our last night with our boy home, Mother.” Fred smiled at Elizabeth as he pushed himself back from the table. He leaned back in his chair, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

  To Paul it was a familiar sight. Kingdoms may rise and fall, rain might keep the hay from getting baled, cows may have trouble calving, but his parents always found time to sit back after supper, have devotions and take stock.

  When all the kids were home, everyone took part. The talk could be serious or light, soft or loud. It didn’t matter. There was always a sense of communion and security, like a benediction on the doings of the day.

  Paul stretched, lifting his feet to an empty chair and contemplated the toes of his thick, gray socks. They were an old pair of his father’s, more comfortable and practical than the silk socks he usually wore.

  “Are you still going out for one last ride?” Fred cradled his cup of tea on his stomach, watching the steam rise through half-closed eyes.

  “The moon is out tonight. It might be my last chance for a while.”

  “I’m so glad you could stay longer this visit. We’ve had so much catching up to do.” Elizabeth pushed her plate away and leaned her elbows on the table as she sipped her tea. “I hope it won’t be as long again,” she hinted.

  Paul shook his head. “Doubtful, Mom. I might be coming up more often on weekends.”

  “Work isn’t going to keep you too busy?” his mother pressed.

  “Not anymore. As it is, I’m not too eager to go back.”

  “Not even to Stacy?” Elizabeth asked, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

  Paul traced the damp circle his mug left behind on the plastic cover of the table. “I’ve got some decisions to make about that.”

  “And did you get the space and time we talked about when you first came home?”

  Paul nodded, his eyes still on the table in front of him. “I did. Except I feel more mixed-up than before.”

  “Why?” his mother’s question gently prodded.

  “I’m not as eager to go back as I thought. I feel like I’ve got unfinished business here.”

  “Amy for instance?”

  Paul jerked his head up; his eyes caught and held his mother’s knowing ones. “Considering the fact that her wedding invitation is on the living room mantel, I highly doubt it.”

  “Maybe,” his mother said. She took a breath to speak again but was interrupted by her husband.

  “What about your work, Paul? Are you going to buy out your partner?”

  Paul shot Fred a grateful look. Trust his dad to sidetrack his mother when she was on the scent. Besides, he knew he’d far sooner talk about his business than his feelings for a girl who was going to be married. A girl he truly cared for. “I don’t know,” he replied.

  Fred cleared his throat and, glancing at Elizabeth, leaned forward. “Your mother and I were talking. If you want to, we can easily work you back into the ranch. Derk had mentioned that he might want to come back. It could work out quite well.” He paused, his work-roughened hands toying with his mug. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, just give you another option. Kincaid up the valley is talking about selling out…we could expand.”

  Paul took his father’s hand in his own and reached over for his mother’s, his heart swelling with love at his father’s offer. “I don’t know if I’ve told you enough how much I love you both,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. They smiled at each other as the moment stretched out, companionable, comfortable. “I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring. I can’t make a proper decision now, here.”

  “Have you prayed about it?”

  His father’s question was quiet but it drove straight into Paul’s heart. “I guess that’s part of the reason I came home.”

  “To pray or to ask us to?” His mother squeezed his hand in return.

  “Both,” was his simple reply.

  “Well,” said his father. “Let’s start.”

  With gentle smiles they bowed their heads and, for the first time in years, the three hearts were united with singleness of purpose.

  Sasha acted feisty and was not content with a lazy walk around the Henderson ranch, so Paul let her out onto the road, holding her to a slow canter. The moon hung like a tipped silver bowl in the sky, its subdued gray light lending an otherworldly quality to the landscape. Hollows became secretive, hills, elusive.

  God’s presence seemed to rise up from His creation. Paul felt a moment of regret mingled with thankfulness; regret that it had taken him this long to come back, thankfulness that God’s ever-faithful love was still available in spite of wrong decisions of the past.

  And now…

  He thought of Stacy and pulled Sasha to a halt with a gentle tug on the reins.

  I know what I have to do, Lord, he prayed, his eyes wandering over the darkening landscape. I know Stacy doesn’t think she needs You and I pray that she might. But I also know we’ll never love each other the way we should. I only ask that You help me do what’s right for everyone.

  Paul drew in a deep breath as he finished, staring sightlessly over the indigo horizon. A faint orange glow, a remnant of the setting sun, edged the hills. He turned in the saddle. Behind him all was dark. The days were getting shorter, and soon fall, then winter would be here. And where would he be?

  Sasha sidestepped, drawing his attention back to her. Paul let her walk, his thoughts returning to Stacy, feeling regret at what he saw as the inevitable breakup of another relationship. But he knew he wanted what his parents had as a married couple. A relationship built on a joint faith in the Lord. He knew he shouldn’t settle for less.

  And then what? Paul blew out his breath as he considered that question. He wanted Amy. It was that simple, and he knew he had to face that, as well.

  He didn’t deserve to even think about her. His past escapades did not recommend him to her. As he had said to Rick, he had always seen her faith as an example, and now it was a barrier. He could never deserve her love.

  But did Tim? Paul tried to shake that thought away. Tim had goals. Amy always said they were going to live on the ranch once they were married, yet Rick didn’t think so. Paul had no right to intrude on Amy’s life now. She was settled and had her future mapped out and it didn’t include an old flame.

  She still cares for you. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t forget that moment in the cattle yard. He’d held her close and it had felt so right. Their eyes had met and it was as if they’d both come home—home to a place they both belonged.

  Sasha stopped abruptly, and Paul looked up, momentarily disoriented. His mind had wandered and so had his horse.

  He looked around, finally able to place himself. A few more steps would take him to the bluff overlooking Danyluks’. They had come this direction so many times the past few weeks, Sasha must have assumed that tonight they were headed there again.

  Pausing, Paul looked over the yard now lit by their yard light and pulled the reins in to turn Sasha around. Better that he stay away from here. Especially in his frame of mind.

  As he did, however, he caught sight of a slight figure running through the light toward the barn. A light flicked on, and a golden glow shone through the windows. Paul leaned forward, the saddle creaking, his hands resting on the pommel.

  What would Amy be doing
in the barns this late in the evening? Surely she didn’t have a heifer calving already. He was sure they weren’t due for a few more weeks.

  Curiosity drove Paul to nudge Sasha in the flanks, and the mare slowly picked her way down the hill to the yard. At the barn Paul dismounted, loosely tying the reins to the post.

  He watched as Amy’s figure created a fleeting silhouette against the window as she moved back and forth past it. She was alone.

  A smart man would mount up again and ride out of here, he thought. But tomorrow he would be in Vancouver and, if all went according to her plans, the next time he saw Amy she would be Mrs. Enders, not Miss Danyluk.

  But Paul didn’t feel very smart tonight. He stepped inside.

  Amy fought with a square bale of straw, dragging it into a pen. With a jerk she pulled the top twine off. She grabbed the bottom one and flipped the bale over with practiced ease. The straw spilled out in slices that she kicked around, dust rising up in the cone of light. Her movements were quick, hard, as if agitated.

  “Need any help?” His question pierced the rustling quiet.

  Amy whirled around, her hand clutching her heart. Then her shoulders sagged as she took a deep breath, blinked once then swung away from him, her loose hair sliding over her shoulder. “You scared the living daylights out of me,” she accused.

  “Sorry.” Paul moved away, hurt by her lack of greeting. He squatted down, picking up a piece of straw. Sticking it in his mouth, he searched for something to say, a reason he should be here. “How was Vancouver?”

  “Busy.”

  “You got yourself all registered, your stuff all picked out?”

  “Yes.” Amy shrugged, spreading straw with the toe of her boot.

  She wanted him to go, Paul thought, but perversely he wasn’t ready to leave. It was as if an uncertainty hung between them, and he wanted it settled before he went.

  “Calving already?” Paul worked the straw to the other side of his mouth, his hands dangling between his knees.

  “Not for another month. I’m just getting the pens ready. Our milk cow is due to freshen.”