Ever Faithful

by Carolyne Aarsen

  And what did he mean about living in an apartment in town? There was no way she could work the ranch and live in town. She must have misunderstood him.

  Her mind flipped from the wedding to the trip to town, and her and Shannon’s conversation. Shannon’s enigmatic remark about Rick had slipped by her at the time, but she remembered it now. It was as if Shannon saw Rick in a different light than she had the past few years. Now that Amy thought about it, Rick seemed to be different around Shannon. Quieter, more self-conscious, and Shannon, too, became almost reserved. Which definitely was not like her. Shannon was more smart remarks and snappy comebacks. Even around Paul she always managed to keep up a flow of chatter that kept everyone laughing. Amy always envied Shannon her easy treatment of Paul even after what could have been an embarrassing situation.

  In spite of herself, Amy remembered again the feelings of envy she felt when she found out Shannon and Paul were going out. The idea that her best friend was on a date with the man she loved had kept her up half the night even though she had no desire to be at a dance. Sure, Rick had taken Shannon home, but it had put a strain on their friendship for a couple of months. Until Shannon had confessed to Amy that she knew Paul had only taken her out on sufferance.

  Amy shifted to her back, thinking about Paul. They had always gotten along, and with a smile she remembered their easy rapport this afternoon. It was as if their relationship was realigning, finding a better fit. She remembered his easy grin, their banter.

  His hand drifting down her cheek, cupping her chin.

  Amy rolled over, restless. She didn’t want to remember how warm his hand felt and how it gave her a tiny shiver.

  There were too many times she would have swooned if he’d even looked at her as he had tonight. She liked where she was now: engaged and in love with another man, a man who had chased her, instead of the other way around. How many times had her mother admonished her about chasing Paul? About making a fool of herself over him?

  Amy thought of Noreen. Despite the years of separation, her mother’s voice would come to her in bits and pieces. Why hadn’t Amy or Rick heard anything from her? Did she not care? Why did she leave?

  Finally, unable to still her mind, she reached over and clicked on her bedside light, pulling her Bible off the table beside her bed. Should have done this from the start, she thought.

  She pushed herself up, turning to Psalm 112. “Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who finds great delight in his commands. Good will come to him who is generous and lends freely…. He will have no fear of bad news, his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.”

  Amy leaned her head against the wall behind her bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. “No fear of bad news.” Her bank statement was due to come in the mail, and in spite of the words of the Psalm she was afraid. The ranch had been dipping too much into their operating loan lately, something she didn’t really want to talk to Rick about. She disliked bringing up their financial situation for fear he would think he had to go out and work. For now they were stumbling along, waiting to sell their calves in the fall, hoping for higher prices. If Rick worked full-time, as well, Amy knew the ranch would suffer.

  She knew she had to trust that God would take care of her and her family. It seemed the harder she worked, though, the tighter the net of difficulties wove itself around her. She struggled often with truly letting go of her problems. Wrong as it was, it seemed more responsible to fret and worry over them herself.

  “Please help me trust,” she prayed, reaching out to God, craving the comfort that she knew only He could give. “Please give me strength to take care of Dad, to do my own work, to encourage Rick.” Her prayer continued as she held each of her family up to the Lord. She hesitated a moment toward the end, thinking of her mother, once again struggling with forgiveness. Things would have been so much easier if her mother were still here. But in the end, she prayed for her mother, as well, wherever she might be.

  Amy gently laid her Bible on the nightstand, hesitating. With a quick movement she pulled open the top drawer and reached inside. The picture was buried beneath other books and papers. Amy pulled it out and propped it on her stomach, leaning back to study the old wedding picture of her parents.

  Amy traced her mother’s face, drawing on other memories to give the two-dimensional portrait life. She remembered her mother, tired, fretting, whenever Amy preferred to help her father with the baling instead of Noreen with the laundry. Amy recalled the countless times she would come in from doing chores to find her mother, elbows leaning on the counter, staring out of the window.

  What made you leave us, Mom? Amy asked the picture. What could we have done to make you stay? I’m planning a wedding, Mom. I wish you could help me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or where to start. Amy rubbed the glass with a corner of her bedsheet, polishing it. With a restrained sigh, she slipped the picture back into the drawer as more questions tossed about her mind.

  How much of her mother was in her? Those who remembered Noreen said Amy got her delicate features from her mother, her stubborn personality from her father. Yet her gray eyes were the same shade as Judd’s, her hair the same reddish tinge. So how much of her mother’s spirit did she inherit?

  Amy snapped off the light.

  She was thinking too much again. Just as Paul had warned her not to.

  She lay back, letting God’s peace ease her worries, letting His comfort and love enfold her. Her eyes drifted shut, and sleep finally overcame the worries of the day.

  Chapter Seven

  “Does Mom ever get people mixed up?” Paul commented as he and his father walked up the church steps together. Ahead of them, Elizabeth chatted briefly with everyone she met, commiserating with one person, smiling in congratulations with another.

  “I’ve never seen it happen.” Fred smiled as they stepped inside the church. “And if it ever did, she could manage to convince the people that, yes, their daughter did have her appendix out last week.”

  He followed his father into the sanctuary of the church, familiar sounds and even familiar smells bringing back memories of three boisterous boys and two harried parents. How often had he and his brothers followed his parents down this carpeted aisle? How many Sundays had they spent sitting in these same pews, behind the same people every week? It felt as if time had turned back.

  But as he followed his father, reality intruded. He noticed for the first time the slight stoop to his father’s shoulders, his mother’s limp.

  They were getting older and still working. Not one of their three sons had remained behind to take over the ranch. Instead, his father made do with hired hands and seasonal workers. Paul could see the day his father would be unable to do even this, and Paul wouldn’t even have this to come back to. The thought hurt.

  His mother paused to talk to someone else, and in that moment he glanced to where the Danyluks always sat. He saw Amy slipping into the pew beside Tim, her long hair loose and flowing over her narrow shoulders. She leaned toward Tim, and he bent his dark head over hers. He smiled at what she said and, slipping an arm about her, drew her close.

  Paul felt a thorn of jealousy stab him. Perhaps that’s what made him touch her shoulder as he walked past on the way to his parents’ pew.

  She tilted her head up, and her automatic smile froze in place. Paul hesitated as he saw her smile disappear. She nodded at him, then turned back to Tim.

  He regretted his impulse, and as he settled into place beside his parents he wondered anew at the transition of his feelings towards Amy.

  As he looked around the church he realized other parts of him had changed, as well. If not changed, he amended, then reverted back to his youth. Last Sunday they had come late and slipped into the back of the church. Today it felt more like home.

  They sat in the same pew he had as a child, when he would spend services counting ceiling tiles, counting how many people wore glasses, how many ladies wore hats, calculating how long candles would burn during A
dvent services, and all the ways children spent time when their mind wasn’t on the service.

  The minister came in, the congregation rose, and when the voices were raised in song, Paul knew that today, much like last week, he wouldn’t be counting anything. A thirst for God had touched him last week, and as he spent time with his parents it intensified. As the service continued, Paul felt as if he caught a glimpse of where his wanderings of the past years were finally leading.

  Back here. Back home.

  After the sermon, the organist began the offeratory, and in the lull Paul looked back and caught Amy’s eyes. He didn’t look away. Neither did she as the moment stretched and held.

  Paul felt a deep feeling of accord and belonging course through him. This time, this place in God’s house, holding Amy’s gaze. It fit, they belonged.

  She blinked and suddenly looked away, breaking the moment.

  But as Paul looked ahead, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Lord had shown him something important.

  “What do you figure brought Henderson into church today?” Rick stretched his leg out with a grimace as they sat in their living room.

  Amy shrugged as she stepped over him to pour another cup of coffee for Tim.

  “Hopefully the same thing that brought you,” Tim said quietly to Rick.

  Amy slanted him a grateful smile, thankful for his unexpected defense of Paul.

  Rick frowned. “I doubt that. Paul Henderson never does anything unless it has something to do with money or girls.”

  “I don’t know why you dislike Paul so much. He never did anything to you,” Amy admonished. “You’re starting to sound like Dad.” She glanced over at her father, who only frowned at her.

  Rick said nothing, merely took another cookie and bit into it.

  Amy dropped down beside Tim, the soft material of her cream-colored dress puddling in a silky heap around her knees. It was the dress she was to have worn to their engagement party. She finally dared wear it today, albeit with a thin silk top underneath it to hide her still-purple upper arm. Tim’s compliment still warmed her and made the cost of the dress worth the sacrifice.

  “And how was church?” Judd asked.

  “Pastor DeJonge gave a really good sermon on trusting in God.” Amy cradled her hands around her warm mug, wishing her father would come to church himself. “I know that’s something I needed to hear right now.”

  “Did you mention my prayer request?” Judd leaned back, tapping his fingers on his crutches.

  Amy hesitated. Rick rolled his eyes. Amy looked at Tim who quirked her an encouraging smile.

  “Tim and I thought it best if I mentioned it to Pastor DeJonge before church. We asked him to remember Mom in his private prayers,” she said quietly, clutching the cup tighter. It was Tim’s idea. He didn’t think it necessary to bring it up another Sunday. Amy knew he was bothered by Judd’s unexpected, rekindled interest in a woman who had not been a part of anyone’s life for the past ten years. A woman who, as Tim pointed out, had been unfaithful and whose lack of contact only seemed to reinforce her lack of remorse.

  Judd just nodded.

  “Why are you thinking about her now, Dad?” Rick asked angrily. “She’s gone. She hasn’t called. She doesn’t care. I’m surprised you do.”

  “Amy’s getting married. I wish there was some way we could tell her.” He clutched his crutches, and Amy exchanged glances with Tim. “I know—” Judd hesitated “—I know I haven’t talked much about her but…” He paused as if he wanted to say more. “I think she needs our prayers,” he said with finality.

  Amy said nothing, still unused to the change in her father. In all the years since he lost his leg, he seemed to blame all the twists and turns of his life on Noreen. He still didn’t want to come to church, but for him to be talking now about asking for prayer requests was as unusual as expecting Paul Henderson to settle down in the valley.

  “Those heifers are coming tomorrow.”

  Rick’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to him. “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

  “In the afternoon. The trucker called yesterday when you and dad were out in the garden. I forgot to tell you. He has to do a run to Prince George and will pick them up on his way back and be here around seven in the evening.”

  “I thought they were coming on Wednesday? We have to get the hay bales out of the fields yet and put up that fence.” Amy breathed deeply, trying to slow a small beat of panic.

  Rick shook his head. “I thought so, too. But that’s what he told me. The truck’s fixed so I can head into town for some more parts for the tractor in the morning. I’ll be back after lunch so that will give us enough time to get everything together for them.”

  “But we’ve got to get the rest of the hay out of there.”

  “There’s only twenty heifers. They won’t bother the bales. We can get the bales hauled on Tuesday.”

  “I’m working Tuesday.”

  “So we do them Wednesday.” Rick shrugged while Amy fought down a groan.

  “What about cross fencing? We can’t leave them to run around the whole hay field before we get a second cut.”

  “I thought about that already. We can get some of the electric fencing wire. It’s cheaper than fencing.”

  But we already have all the stuff for a barbed wire fence, thought Amy, and we’d have to buy electric fencing material. She didn’t want to look at Tim who knew exactly where their bank account sat.

  “Well,” she said with an uncharacteristic shrug, “I guess we’ll have to figure that out when the time comes.”

  She pushed thoughts of the ranch aside for the rest of the morning and by the time she walked Tim to his car Sunday’s peace had pervaded her thoughts.

  “Have you had a chance to think about making a trip out to Vancouver?” Tim held Amy’s hand in his own as they walked down to his car.

  “Not a lot.”

  Tim stopped, pulling her other hand into his and looking down at her engagement ring. In the bright sun it winked back at both of them, sending out bright shafts of color.

  “We shouldn’t wait too long, Amy. Some of Mom’s friends have already been asking about gift ideas, and it’s high time you go looking for a dress.”

  “I’ve got the heifers coming tomorrow.” Here we go again, thought Amy with dismay. Work seemed to always intrude on Sunday. She knew God’s grace permeated through the week, but she always took seriously the admonition to keep one day as a day of rest for her own spiritual well-being as well as physical.

  “And the bales to haul and a hundred of other jobs,” Tim interrupted. “I know you’re busy, but we do have a wedding to plan.”

  Amy bit her lip, thinking. “I suppose we could make it this weekend. The heifers should be settled in by then. I need to work on Tuesday then haul a few bales home with the truck on Wednesday. The garden needs weeding. Dad can take care of that. And I still have to figure out what to do about fencing off the hay field.” She paused then blurted out, “Can you help me out with some of the jobs? I’ll have time to leave then.”

  Tim shrugged carefully. “I doubt it. I’m pretty sure I’m booked up this week. Besides what do I know about sorting cows or fencing?”

  Amy nodded curtly, remembering Paul’s question when he was helping her fence. She never paid much attention to Tim’s lack of interest in the ranch. She knew he wasn’t the ranching type, but it would be nice if he would contribute a little more than just financial advice.

  “I’m sure Rick can take care of things while you’re gone,” Tim continued.

  “You’re right. I’m too much of a control person I guess.” Rick never did things exactly the way she wanted, but she knew that one of her weaknesses was a desire to have everything done right.

  “No you’re not,” Tim laughed, stroking her cheek. He turned back to his date book. “I’d like to leave Friday, can you get time off of work then?”

  Amy nodded as she watched his well-manicured fingers neatly marking o
ut a Friday, seeing her day of fencing disappear with one stroke of his pen. “I’ll ask Elizabeth if she could stop by and make sure the men are eating properly,” she replied quietly, swallowing down a feeling of trepidation at the thought of all the work she and Rick needed to do. It would work out, she reassured herself, she had to learn to let go.

  Tim snapped the book closed, clicked his pen and slipped both of them inside his suit coat pocket.

  “I’ll phone my mother, then. She can make plans for those four days.”

  “It’s not going to take that long is it?” As soon as the question left her lips, she wished she could take it back.

  Tim shoved his hands in his pants pocket and looked away, sighing.

  Contrite, Amy reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

  He looked back at her and shaking his head lightly, bent down to give her a quick kiss on her lips.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. It might not take that long at all.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll make arrangements for four days. That will give us plenty of time,” she answered.

  “I’d like to come over on Wednesday,” he continued. “Our invitations are ready Tuesday and we’ll need to address them.”

  “Which ones did you get? The cream or the pale blue ones?” Amy asked, remembering the long discussion at the printer in town.

  “Neither. I called my mother and she thought either of them might be too plain. So we ordered the first ones we looked at. The one’s you thought were too expensive.”

  Amy stifled her annoyance with him. “But…”

  Tim touched a finger to her lips. “Mom and Dad were only too glad to pay for them. So I wanted to get something they would be happy with.”

  Amy opened her mouth to voice her objections, but guilt over her seeming reluctance to spend the weekend with him made her stop. That and the fact that his parents were paying for them. It shouldn’t matter anyhow. They were only invitations. “I’ll be ready with my address book and my pen,” she joked, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the project.