Ever Faithful

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “See you then.” Tim gave her a hug and a quick kiss and got in his car.

  Amy watched him drive away, feeling confused. If they had waited, like she had planned, she could have paid for a few more things herself.

  She tried not to let it bother her. His parents had far more money than she and her father did. It was a simple fact.

  She looked over her shoulder at the house. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t fancy. She knew if she had time and some extra cash it would be a lot of fun to fix up. But for now, maybe a mobile home for her and Tim would be the best solution. Rick and Judd could live in the house and then, when she had time, she could work on the house.

  She smiled, thinking of future plans.

  Hugging herself, she turned, her eyes following the horizon, listening to the quiet. In spite of the worries and cares, she loved living where her eyes could follow the pattern of a hawk circling in an empty sky, where she could whisper a soft prayer and feel God right there beside her.

  Tim would love it here; she knew it.

  With a satisfied smile she turned and walked back to the house.

  Paul drew his horse to a halt on the lip of the rim. Sasha shook her head impatiently, the bridle clanking. At a soft word from Paul she dropped her head, and blew a breath through her nose.

  Below them a rolling cloud of dust trailed a cattle truck heading up the valley. The roar of its engines reverberated along the hills as it geared down.

  Paul leaned forward in the saddle, pushing the brim of his hat up to see better. The truck slowed and turned, heading for Danyluks’ place.

  Must be the heifers Amy had talked about. He clicked to his horse, nudging her with his boot heels. They followed the rim of the valley, staying in the cooler air of the pines.

  The truck would have a climb once it took the fork in the road. Paul could reach the Danyluks at the same time.

  Paul pulled in just as the truck was trying to turn around on the tight yard. Amy’s horse, Misty, stood saddled and tied up by the verandah, munching on the same overgrown flower bed his own horse had been nibbling on a few days ago. As Paul dismounted he saw Amy directing the truck.

  Or attempting to.

  Amy had never been very good with hand signals. She couldn’t seem to translate the direction the truck should move into hand movements and always got her left and right confused. Now she stood where the trucker could see her, but her hands constantly changed direction. It reminded him of the time she was teaching herself sign language. She would make a mistake then wave her hands as if erasing the previous movements, just as she did now.

  Air brakes whooshed, the engine snarled as the huge truck lumbered backward, dropped his rear wheel into a mud hole and stopped. The heifers bawled, their hooves clanging against the metal sides in protest at the rocking motion. As Paul crossed the yard, the perplexed face of the trucker looked to him for help.

  Paul knew Amy wouldn’t like it if he took over, but also knew it would take far too long if he left it up to her.

  He walked to the cab of the truck and pulled himself up onto the step. In a few moments he told the trucker where he had to end up. He walked back to the loading ramp and, ignoring Amy’s crossed arms and thinned lips, he nudged her over. He nodded at the trucker and signaled for him to go ahead. Paul jerked his thumb to the left, then a few quick movements of his hands got the truck going backward, corrected him, and by the time Paul put his hands up for the trucker to stop, the back door was perfectly aligned with the top of the ramp.

  He still hadn’t dared look at Amy, who was now at the bottom of the ramp, opening the gate, closing another and climbing over the fence to get out of the way. The heifers sent up a steady ear-splitting bawl, and as soon as the doors opened they were crowding past each other in their eagerness to get out.

  Paul watched, laughing as two heifers, stuck in the opening struggled, until the more stubborn one made it out. Soon they were all unloaded, and the gates on the liner clanged shut with a hollow echo. Amy signed the manifest slip and spoke to the driver about payment. They agreed on a check, mailed to his place of business. The driver waved at Paul, then climbed back into the cab. The truck’s engine roared, the trailer swayed as the truck bounced over the ruts in the driveway and then roared down the road, shifting gears halfway down the valley.

  Paul waited for Amy, unsure of his reception. She had looked plenty ticked off when he’d first walked over. But she only grinned as she passed him and clambered over the fence.

  All is forgiven, I guess, he thought as he followed her. He watched her move through the herd of bawling heifers. She checked them over with a critical eye. They milled about, raising dust, bellowing. A bawling animal jostled her, but she just took a few casual steps back to regain her balance, unfazed by their erratic movements. A smile softened her mouth.

  Paul enjoyed watching her. He couldn’t imagine her in any other setting. She belonged here as much as the mountains behind her.

  Amy nudged a recalcitrant heifer over. Her hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and it slid over her shoulders, obscuring her face in a red-gold mass. It caught the sun, glints of light dancing as she pushed it back.

  She’s beautiful. That thought drifted featherlight into his consciousness, floating for a moment until he caught and examined it.

  All the years they’d been growing up, he’d called her cute. Her unique-colored hair, soft gray eyes and delicate features had made many male heads turn.

  But now…now he saw before him a grown woman who carried herself with confidence, who had matured through her own trials.

  Her beauty lay not only in her features, her striking coloring. With Amy her beauty was also a beauty of character, a Godly woman who put her needs behind the needs of others, loyal to her family and her faith. Something he had been both aware of and afraid of all his life.

  Where he had become more restless, she had become more settled. She had grown and changed and matured, and now their lives were going in separate directions.

  Or were they?

  He recalled that brief moment of accord he had felt with her in church and the time they’d spent working and shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on any feelings he had for her. He had no right. She was engaged to another man. He had his own problems to work out, and he knew it would only be selfishness on his part if he were to allow his feelings to continue in the direction they had gone the past few days.

  But he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her, couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched her.

  She came close, her grin a white slash in a dusty face. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

  “If you can call eleven-hundred-pound critters beautiful, I guess they are. They look like Simmental.”

  “Purebred.” She glanced back at them with another smile.

  “As ticked as I was at Rick for buying them, I think they’ll do us really well when they calve. I might even get a couple of herd-sires that I can run with our other cows.”

  “So what do you have to do with them now?” he asked as she climbed up on the fence beside him.

  “They’ll need booster shots, ear tags and possibly Ivomec.” She rubbed her shoulder carefully, frowning.

  “And how come your esteemed brother isn’t here to help?” Paul couldn’t help ask.

  Amy shook her head. “We thought they were coming tonight. At least that’s what the dispatcher told us. The trucker said he didn’t have to make his first pickup and came straight here. Rick was going to be here after lunch.”

  “And now he’s not.”

  “That’s okay. They can stay in the corral until he comes home.”

  “There’s not much room for them.”

  “They’ll be okay.”

  “Why don’t I help you? I’ve got time.” Amy frowned, and Paul tapped her on the forehead again. “Thinking again are we, my little control freak?”

  “I’m not,” she protested.

  “No. You aren’t a control freak. But you seem
to have a hard time accepting my help.” He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her backward off the top of the fence, ignoring her protests. She clutched his arms and laughed. “Go get all the stuff you need,” he said sternly, reluctantly letting go of her. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Okay. I’ll go,” she said. She turned and jogged to the house, her hair streaming behind her, catching the sun like a beacon.

  Paul sighed and turned back to the heifers. He had better keep his head on straight and his feelings in check or he was going to cause even more problems. It hadn’t taken him long to forget Stacy. Nor did he seem able to remember that Amy herself was engaged.

  Amy came out a few minutes later, holding a box. She took out a book holding records of their cows, and they marked the new tags with the next set of numbers.

  Amy loaded syringes while Paul cut five animals out of the herd and worked them into the handling chute. Soon they had a system going and group by group the animals were given their shots, an ear tag, doused with a surface dewormer and sent out to a holding pen.

  “That’s the last of them,” Paul called out as he opened the head gate of the handling chute and Amy chased them out. He walked through them once more looking them over. They were a nice size, good markings. He wondered how it would work out having them calving in the fall, but he was sure Amy would handle that in her usual efficient way.

  “Got some warm water here, Paul,” Amy called out from the other side of the fence.

  He vaulted over, watching as she splashed water on her dusty face and washed her hands.

  “Man, it’s hot today,” she groused as she stepped back, rebraiding her hair while he washed up.

  The water felt good. He had forgotten how grimy a person could get, working with cattle in the summertime. Their hooves worked the ground into powder in no time.

  “Supposed to get even hotter by Wednesday,” Paul mumbled, as he toweled off his head.

  Amy groaned. “I’m glad I’m working tomorrow. I’ll have to haul hay Wednesday and figure out how to keep these new animals from ranging all over the hay field.”

  “Use that temporary electric fence. It’s effective over a long distance and your hayfield isn’t that far from your power pole.”

  Amy only shrugged and Paul guessed. They didn’t have any and she couldn’t afford it.

  “Dad has some he hasn’t used,” Paul offered. “In fact I think he even has one that is solar powered. You wouldn’t need to run a wire or rig up a connection. Completely self-contained.”

  “Thanks, but…”

  “What’s with the ‘but’?” Paul hung up the towel on the fence and snapped up his cuffs and dropped his hat on his head again. “He’s not using it. It works well. You can use it. This is not a problem, Amy.” He picked up the pail and held it up with a grin. “Say you’ll do it, or I’ll dump this water on you.”

  “Yah, right, Paul. Like you’d do it,” she said drily.

  “Honey,” Paul said, his voice taking on a silky tone. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Amy looked at him as if sizing him up. She slowly shook her head, took one step forward and quickly reached for the pail. She slopped some water on him before he managed to pull it out of her reach.

  “Sorry, Paul,” she said laughing. She held her hands out in a conciliatory gesture as he advanced on her. “I’m sorry, Paul. Really I am.”

  “Easy to say, brat,” he said plucking his wet shirt away from his chest. “You’re in trouble now.” He hefted the pail, still half-full of water.

  Amy giggled, took one step backward, then turned and ran.

  Ignored the warning signals that clamored to be heard, he ran after her.

  She made it past the fence and ducked around the barn, laughing. Paul ran after her and made it around the corner. Too late he saw her there. All it took was a quick flip on her part.

  He sucked in his breath as the now-cool water hit his chest a second time. Amy turned to escape as Paul reached out to grab her arm, dropping the now-empty pail. She twisted away, but their momentum pulled them down. They tumbled in a rambunctious heap on the grass. Amy laughed helplessly as she fell down beside him.

  His hat fell off. Her hair fell across his face. Paul reached out and pushed it away just as her hand came up.

  Their fingers meshed, their eyes caught, and Paul had the curious sensation of time slowing, the world tipping and falling away, leaving only the two of them suspended in space.

  She lay next to him, unable or simply unwilling to pull away from his hand, the thrumming of her heart keeping time with his. It had nothing to do with running.

  She grew suddenly serious, her expression intent. Paul felt drawn into her eyes, the gentle gray of skies before a welcome rain, soft, spiky lashes framing them.

  Her quick breath fanned his cheek lightly.

  Paul slowly released her fingers, let his own drift through her sun-warmed hair, his callused fingers catching the back of her neck.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed.

  “Please Paul…” she whispered.

  Paul blinked at the sound of her voice, feeling reality intrude. He knew he should move away from her but wasn’t ready to. Not yet. It felt so right to be close to her like this.

  “Don’t do this to me, Paul,” she pleaded.

  He drew in a ragged breath, let himself touch her face lightly, allowed his fingers to run down her cheek.

  She clambered to her feet, her face averted from his, her hands scraping her hair back into some semblance of order. Paul watched her as he got up, feeling guilty, but more than that, strangely bereft. “Amy,” he said, hesitating. He reached out and touched her shoulder tentatively. She pulled away.

  “I want you to go now,” she said, her voice a choked sound. She kept her back to him, her arms clasped tightly around her midriff, her fingers clutching her shirt. It smote his heart to see her looking so forlorn.

  He reached down, picking up his hat and absently brushing the grass from it. He was loath to leave her like this but didn’t know how to bridge the gap that now seemed to yawn between them, as he tried to deal with his own shaken emotions.

  In their brief moment of contact, he’d felt his whole world realign.

  “If you need anything…” He dropped his hat on his head, feeling like he’d run a mile instead of across Danyluks’ corrals, and drew in a steadying breath. “I’ll send Larry down with the fence. He knows how to use it.” It would be best for both of them if he didn’t come anymore. In a few more days Vancouver and Stacy would be the reality of his life again.

  She still stood, turned away from him.

  “Make sure Rick pitches all the bales,” he said quietly.

  And then he left.

  Amy clutched her waist, her head bent. She couldn’t resist a hesitant glance over her shoulder at Paul’s retreating figure. He walked slowly, his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets. Every step seemed to take something precious away from her.

  She shivered in the warm air, rubbing her arms. As she did, her ring caught on her shirt. She lifted her hand, turning the stone to catch the sun.

  The symbol of her promise to Tim mocked her.

  Amy covered her face with her hands. She was no better than her mother!

  You didn’t do anything wrong!

  You wanted him to kiss you.

  You stopped him. Nothing happened.

  Then why are you feeling so guilty?

  Her thoughts slammed back and forth, accusing and reassuring.

  Amy pressed her elbows to her side, her fingertips to her eyes. “Please, Lord, forgive me, please help me stay true…” Amy lifted her eyes to the mountains which had always been a symbol to her of God’s majesty, power and faithfulness. “Help me, Lord, help me stay true,” she repeated.

  The purple ridge wavered in her vision as hot tears pooled in her eyes.

  On Wednesday morning one of Fred Henderson’s hired hands, Larry, brought the electric fence over. He informed Amy that he ha
d been told to stay and help haul hay. He wasn’t needed that day at the Henderson place.

  Rick didn’t argue, and Amy didn’t have the energy. So Amy drove the truck, and Larry and Rick loaded the hay onto the wagon. It was a hot, tiring job and even with the extra help, the only part they got cleaned off was the field where the heifers would pasture. The fence was erected and activated, and Larry left.

  Tim came over as he’d promised, to make plans for the weekend in Vancouver. He was going to pick her up after work on Thursday evening, returning home Monday afternoon. Amy hoped she would be able to stay that long in Vancouver. She hoped her father would be okay that long without her. She hoped Rick would have enough sense to stay at home and watch over the new heifers, making sure the fence worked.

  Tim had brought the invitations. Amy didn’t like the design. It was too elegant, too expensive, but because Mr. and Mrs. Enders paid for them, she kept her objections to herself and added her small list to Tim’s ever-increasing one. By the time she was done hers, she was so tired she fell asleep, head burrowed in her arms on the kitchen table.

  Tim finished the job alone.

  Chapter Eight

  “I still say we don’t need to shop at the mall for chinaware.” Tim’s mother stepped out of the car, continuing the discussion Amy thought ended when they pulled into the entrance ramp to the mall parkade. “If it’s dishes you want, why go to a department store?”

  “Don’t be a snob, Mother,” Tim admonished, winking at Amy. “I’m sure we’ll find something here that Amy and I both like.”

  “As long as the china doesn’t have matching wall clocks, I might be happy.” Delia pursed her lips in derision, tucking her eelskin leather purse under her arm. “You know I detest malls.”

  She sniffed as Tim held the door to the walkway that took them inside.

  They stepped from quiet into busyness. The usual rush of noise and people enveloped them, and Amy had to hustle to keep pace with Tim and Mrs. Enders.