Ever Faithful

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “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.

  “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?”