“Oh, yes. I almost forgot that’s still in the works,” he replied, though his gaze communicated just the opposite.
Amy chanced another glance behind her, wishing Tim had come after her. But he had obviously taken her reprimand to heart, and as she looked past Paul, she caught a glimpse of Tim’s brown suit coat just as the doors at the front of the church swung behind him. She looked ahead again, concentrating fiercely on Mrs. Masterson’s soft gray hair as it bobbed and weaved in time to her awkward gait, trying to ignore the person directly behind. If she hadn’t spoken so sharply to Tim, he might be beside her now.
As if that would have been better, she thought. She didn’t know which was worse—Tim and his probing questions or Paul and his probing eyes, which even now, felt as if they burned the back of her head.
She jumped as warm fingers brushed over her neck.
“Take it easy,” Paul murmured, “You’ve a strand of hair caught in your collar. It’s been driving me nuts.”
“Stop doing that,” she whispered fiercely over her shoulder, trying to ignore the tingle that quivered down her back as his fingers lingered. “We’re still in church for goodness sakes.”
Paul leaned slightly over to catch her eye. “Stop doing what?”
“Oh, don’t give me that innocent wide-eyed look, Paul Henderson. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Amy glared straight ahead, her heart pounding just a little too fast, her fingers trembling as she clutched her purse.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” His finger slid between her dress and her neck tucking the hair back in again. “There you go. Right as rain.”
Amy pressed her lips together. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone?
“Hey, Amy, just teasing.” Paul touched her shoulder and she jerked away, her back rigid.
They moved a few painfully slow steps forward, then Paul leaned over and whispered, “I am sorry, Amy. Really.”
She only nodded.
“I want you to know I’ll be praying for you and your mom,” he continued, his voice still soft, intimate.
Amy couldn’t keep her anger up. Other than Pastor DeJonge’s sermon, his was the first encouraging voice she had heard today. Her shoulders dropped and her fingers loosened their death grip on her purse as she thought of her mother. How many more questions hadn’t that unexpected phone call raised.
“How do you feel about her contacting you?”
Amy hesitated between needing to share her own confusion with Paul, who had known her mother, and feeling that doing so would be disloyal to Tim. Need won out over loyalty. “I don’t know, Paul,” she admitted. “I have so many things I want to ask her and yet…”
“It must be hard to know what to think.”
Amy only nodded, thankful for his understanding.
“If she comes for a visit and needs a place to stay,” he continued, “I’m sure Dad and Mom will put her up.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder at him, a tremulous smile hovering at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Amy.”
Maybe not to him. She didn’t know how she felt about her mother, but was thankful for Paul’s easy acceptance of her mother’s contact. He truly was a good friend.
But as she looked ahead, trying to ignore the reality of his presence behind her, she knew that friend was a feeble description of what had grown between them. Because each time she saw him, his words sang through her head.
I love you, Amy… I love you, Amy…
The encouragement Paul felt from Amy’s confidences waned as soon as he saw Tim waiting directly below him at the bottom of the church steps, one hand resting on the metal handrail, the other shoved in his pocket. He ignored Paul and smiled up at Amy, a faint lift to his eyebrows as if asking for forgiveness. Paul glanced sidelong at Amy. She drew in a deep breath and with her returning smile, seemed to grant it.
Paul tried to ignore the quick lance of jealousy as Amy tripped down the church stairs, reaching out for her fiancé. He tried not to see how the sun danced in her hair, tried not to watch as Tim pulled her closer.
He leaned against the rail, his eyes scanning the chattering group of people gathered below him. Rick stood with Shannon, laughing with a bunch of other young people. Fred and Elizabeth chatted with another couple.
Everywhere he looked, people had gathered in groups. It’s what happened on Sunday mornings and any other time the community got together.
Paul looked beyond the crowd, feeling suddenly alone. It shouldn’t surprise him that it would take a while before he found his place. The very bonds that formed a community also precluded an immediate belonging.
However, he wasn’t the only solitary one. On the edge of the parking lot, staring fixedly at someone in the crowd, stood a woman, isolated and alone. Paul frowned as he tried to place her. He hadn’t seen her around, yet she looked familiar. She stepped to one side, as if trying to get a better look, and as Paul followed the direction of her gaze, it came to him with stunning clarity who she was.
Noreen.
She looked straight at Amy.
Amy hadn’t seen her yet. She stood with her back to the lot, talking earnestly to Tim, as always, and Tim was frowning, as always.
Paul didn’t think Amy would mind a little interruption.
He stepped down and touched her shoulder lightly. Amy turned, then stopped when she saw him.
“What can we do for you, Paul?” Tim didn’t try to hide his peevish tone.
Paul ignored him and leaned closer to Amy. “I think your mother is here,” he whispered.
Amy straightened, glancing first at Tim, fear in her eyes, then up at Paul. “Really? Here? Tell me where?”
“On the edge of the parking lot.”
“Who is? What are you two talking about?” Tim demanded.
“My mother,” Amy whispered, pressing her fingers against her mouth, the other hand blindly reaching out towards Tim.
Tim turned around, trying to find Noreen Danyluk, missing the appeal in Amy’s eyes and her outstretched hand.
But Paul didn’t.
He caught her icy hand in his own, squeezing it in encouragement. “You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to, Amy.”
Tim turned around, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Amy clinging to Paul. He caught Amy’s elbow, pulling her close to him. “And I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself,” he warned Paul.
Paul relinquished his hold on Amy, frustrated with Tim’s obtuseness and jealousy. Amy needed support and help. After ten silent years, her mother stood forty feet away from Amy, and all Tim could think of were his so-called rights.
Amy seemed unaware of Tim and his little games, her hands twisting around each other, her face mirroring her anxiety. She took a step toward Noreen, then hesitated.
“It’s okay Amy,” Paul said quietly, ignoring Tim. “All you have to do is go to her and say hello.”
“I don’t know if I can. It’s been so long.”
“Amy, I think we’d better go.” Still unaware of what was happening, Tim tugged on Amy’s arm, and with an uncharacteristic display of independence, Amy jerked her arm back.
“Don’t pressure me, Tim.”
Paul felt like dragging Amy away from her fearful fiancé, toward Noreen. But if he did that, he realized, he would be no better than Tim. Amy had to decide for herself.
Paul laid a gentle hand on her shoulder “It’s been ten years. Maybe ‘hello’ is the best place to start,” he said, his voice quiet, encouraging.
Almost unconsciously Amy’s free hand slipped up to cover his, and for a moment their fingers intertwined. Paul gently squeezed and then let go. “No matter what has happened, she’s still your mother.”
Amy pushed her hands into the pocket of her coat and clenched them. Drawing in a deep breath as if making a decision, she started walking.
“Amy, wait,” Tim called out, following her. She ignored him, and Paul began to pray in earnest.
A gust of wind tossed Amy’s hair across her face, and as she reached up to brush it away, she caught her mother’s gaze. That sudden contact made Amy feel as if someone had pulled all the air out of her.
She stared at the elegantly dressed woman who had left her, her brother and her father all those years ago. The face was familiar and yet not. The hair was grayer, fashionably cut, wrinkles fanned out from eyes as brown as ever. Her mouth had acquired a hardness, her cheeks a hollowness. Her eyes seemed to devour Amy’s, to draw Amy to herself.
They both stood unmoving, waiting, looking, until finally Noreen allowed the ghost of a smile to creep across her mouth. She drew her long raincoat about her and slowly turned away.
Amy blinked as if coming out of a trance. Her mother. The figure on the parking lot was her mother, and she was leaving.
Memories drifted out of a place she had kept locked and silent, like light intruding through the cracks beneath a door. Pictures, sounds, words, feelings, all mingling and overloading until she had to see her close-up, to touch Noreen to make sure she was real.
“Mother,” Amy called out. “Wait. Please wait.”
Noreen continued walking past the cars. The wind that caught Amy’s hair must have blown away her words, as well.
Should she follow, Amy wondered? Should she try to connect with a person who hadn’t been a part of their life for so long?
She’s my mother.
Amy took a step, then another. Finally she was running, each step precarious in ankles unaccustomed to high heels.
Noreen was already in her car, reaching out for the door handle to shut the door. Amy shoved her hand against the door, holding it open.
Breathless from more than just the chase, her heart pounding in her chest, Amy stared at the person she had dreamed would someday return.
Her face was familiar and not. It was as if someone had taken the picture Amy kept in her bedside table and smudged it, loosening the features in some places and pulling them in others. Noreen half turned, swung her legs out and put her feet on the ground, as if to get out of the car again.
“Hello, Amy.” Noreen looked up as she spoke those two words, and in them Amy heard entreaty and fear.
Amy hung on to the door, a sob gathering in the back of her throat. This was her mother. No matter what Noreen had done, for this brief and shining moment the woman Amy had cried out for in the night, had prayed would come back, was here. In person. Not a dream, not a figment of her imagination.
Amy slowly knelt, slipped her arms around her mother’s waist, laid her head on her mother’s lap.
She remembered the loneliness of ten years with no female voice to greet her at the end of the day. She remembered the frustrations of growing up without a mother to guide her.
Noreen stroked her hair. “Oh, honey. Oh, Amy, I just wanted a look… I didn’t think you would want to…talk to me,” she murmured, her fingers tangling themselves in Amy’s hair, her voice breaking.
Amy closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of unfamiliar perfume, feeling hands holding her that were known and yet unknown.
My mother, she thought, taking a deep breath.
Amy wished the world could stop, wished this pure moment could last. But as she pulled away, looking once again at Noreen, she knew that couldn’t happen. The past years would drift in as sure as would the reality of kneeling on the hard pavement.
Amy straightened, rubbing her knees, staring in dismay at yet another pair of ruined panty hose. “Still a tomboy, Mom,” she said with a shaky laugh.
Noreen bent her head as she wiped her eyes. Clutching the tissue, she glanced at Amy’s knees then up into her daughter’s face. She shook her head and reached out to stroke Amy’s arm.
“My dear girl.” She faltered.
“Can I have one of those?” Amy asked, indicating the tissue packet.
Noreen looked up. Rick stood beside the car, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression uncertain. Amy stepped aside, gesturing toward Noreen with a discreet movement of her head.
Rick came forward and Noreen got out of the car. Her mouth trembled as she was faced with her other child. Rick, however, only nodded toward her. “Hi,” was all he said.
“Hello, Rick.” Noreen had lifted a hand, but as Rick kept his distance, she lowered it again.
“So…?” Rick’s hands jingled the change in his pocket. A slight trembling of his lips betrayed his own inner turmoil.
“Why did you come back?”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“After ten years?”
“I know.” Noreen looked down at the tissue she twisted around in her delicate fingers.
With that admission Rick seemed to sag against the car. His belligerence left as his expression became that of a young confused boy.
“Why did you leave, Mom? What did we do?”
Noreen took a shaky breath as if to speak, then firmly closed her mouth.
In spite of her own conflicting memories, Amy felt a sudden burst of pity for her mother. She could see pain and anguish clearly etched on her face. But Amy didn’t know where to go from here, either.
“Noreen, how are you?” Elizabeth Henderson interrupted the tableaux, offering reprieve from the tension that enveloped the trio. Amy moved aside. Elizabeth smiled down at her old neighbor. “Glad you came.”
Amy wiped her nose, listening to Elizabeth ask a few questions, chatting to Noreen as if she’d been gone only a few days instead of ten years. As she watched them, Amy let her breath out in a careful sigh.
She looked past Elizabeth and Noreen to where Rick stood. He still leaned against the car. Shannon had come up beside him. She threaded her arm through his, talking to him in quiet, reassuring tones.
She felt a quick stab of jealousy at Shannon’s support. Tim still stood at the bottom of the church stairs, watching them. She couldn’t read his expression from this far away. She didn’t know if she wanted to and turned away.
“Why don’t you all come over for dinner?” Elizabeth asked suddenly, her invitation encompassing the small group gathered around the car. “Rick, Shannon, you’ll come, too?”
“Sure we will. Thanks Mrs. Henderson,” Shannon offered. Rick shot her a thunderous glance, but she held his gaze, smiling sweetly back.
“Noreen?”
“I couldn’t…”
“Please?” Elizabeth laid her hand on Noreen’s shoulder. “It won’t be anything special. But we’d like to have you. We’ve a lot of catching up to do.”
“Hello, Noreen.”
The deep voice over her shoulder caught Amy’s heart in a tight fist. She didn’t need to look behind her to know how close Paul stood to her. Too close. Yet for a moment she felt a yearning for his comfort. She almost leaned back against him, almost reached out for him, knowing he would give her what she needed.
As he reached past her to shake Noreen’s hand, Amy stepped aside. Paul winked at Amy and stepped around her. He dropped one hip against the car, his head bent as he talked to Amy’s mother. Amy could not help but envy the ease with which he renewed an old acquaintance. He asked questions and laughed. All Amy could do was watch, unsure of how she should feel.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tim walk toward the group, and she tensed.
When he stopped beside her, Amy looked at him, then her mother. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Tim Enders. My fiancé. Tim, this is my mother, Noreen.”
Noreen smiled at him and reached out to shake his hand. Tim hesitated, but then took it. “Hello, Noreen,” he said, his smile stiff.
“Elizabeth has invited us for lunch, Tim.” She fingered the strap of her purse as she spoke, a light quaver in her voice.
“I’d like to go.”
Tim looked at Noreen, up at Paul then back at Amy, his expression unreadable. He gave a curt nod and reached out for Amy’s hand.
Amy put her hand in his, then glanced back at Noreen. “Will we see you at Hendersons’, Mother?�
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Noreen looked around, then with a slow nod of her head, assented.
Amy gave her soup another stir, listening to the hesitantly spoken conversation around the Hendersons’ dinner table. Elizabeth and Fred brought up old stories as they reminisced with Noreen. They seemed careful with Judd’s name and anything associated with him as they sought exactly the right words to bridge a space of ten years.
Shannon asked questions about Noreen’s job, expressing interest in the travel magazine she worked for. Paul brought up names of restaurants they had both frequented—Bishop’s, The Cannery, with its excellent wine and seafood selection. Slowly they drew Noreen out, asking questions about her work and her life. Amy contributed an occasional comment, content to listen to her mother’s familiar voice, awash in memories.
Tim and Rick were both quiet.
“How are the wedding plans coming?” Elizabeth turned to Tim to gently draw him into the conversation.
“I still have to get my future wife to decide on a dress.” Tim took a sip of water and glanced at Amy.
“You’ll have to do that soon. If you don’t, Amy will be just as glad to get married in jeans and cowboy boots,” Fred said with a grin.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Tim replied above the polite laughter.
“And are you planning any work on the house?” Elizabeth asked. “I know Amy wanted to do some renovating before you move in.”
Amy’s heart gave a mighty thump, and she shot Tim a warning glance, but he only shrugged.
“We haven’t decided on where we’re going to live yet.”
A strained silence descended, and Amy swallowed down a lump that had gathered in her throat.
“Actually my parents have given me a down payment on a house,” Tim continued.
“How does that affect the ranch?” Fred asked.
“It will be up to Judd, but I’m going to advise him to put it up for sale.”
Amy bit her lip at his bald statement, developing a sudden interest in the noodle her spoon had been chasing around her bowl. She felt manipulated, as if Tim deliberately provoked her to make a decision. And mentioning his parents’ contribution put another load of guilt on her shoulders.
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