Paul felt a nudge of awareness.

He noted the changes time had wrought in Amy. From the freckle-faced pixie who had trailed him as a child, to the blushing, self-conscious teenager, she had become the woman before him now.

Amy had been cute as a child. Pretty as a teenager. But now she had become strikingly beautiful.

Paul regretted now that he hadn’t bothered to stop and really notice Amy. All their lives he had taken her affection and adoration for granted. Had treated it lightly.

Yet always she had stayed faithful. Always she had had a purity, a sincerity, a solid, simple faith in God that had made Paul keep his distance.

But now…now, when it was too late…now, when she was pledged to another…

Now a powerful yearning seemed to draw him to Amy….

CAROLYNE AARSEN

has honed her writing between being a wife, stay-at-home mom, foster mom, columnist and business partner with her husband in their cattle-and-logging business in northern Alberta. Writing for Love Inspired is a blessed opportunity to combine her love for romance with her love for her Lord.

Ever Faithful
Carolyne Aarsen

For the Word of the Lord is right and true, He is faithful in all He does.

—Psalms 33:4

I’d like to dedicate this book to Loree Lough, fellow writer and encourager, and, as always, to my husband, Richard.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

“How much longer will the grass hold out, little brother?” Amy’s saddle creaked as she leaned forward, staring ruefully over the pasture.

Rick shrugged. “Couple of weeks, more if we get rain.”

Amy Danyluk lifted a tangle of reddish hair from her neck and tucked it under her old cowboy hat. The sun’s heat, warming her head, seemed to mock Rick’s hope for rain. So did the rivulets of sweat running down her back. She pulled up the red bandanna hanging around the neck of a once-yellow T-shirt and wiped her neck with it, squinting at the cows in the distance.

From here they looked content as they moved slowly along, their calves kicking up their heels and running in circles. However the chewed-down areas close to the horses were a mute testimony to how little feed the cows had left. “I think we’ll have to get the lower fields ready just in case we need to move them.”

“The fence needs to get fixed before we do that.” Rick pulled his hat off his head and wiped a trickle of sweat with his arm. “Whew, it’s hot.”

Amy nodded. “I was hoping we could work on it in the morning, while it’s still cool.”

“No can do, sis. I’m busy on Monday. I promised Jack I’d help him in the garage until four.” Rick rubbed the side of his nose and threw Amy an apologetic look. “Sorry. I made the plans over a week ago.” He pulled on Sandover’s reins, turned his horse around and walked away.

“This is not the time of year to make other plans,” Amy muttered. They had hay to haul and cut and bale again. The corrals needed work, and the old fence needed repairs. They had to cross fence their hayfield. She had to work all of this around her own job, as well as gardening and taking care of their father, Judd.

Amy swung her own horse, Misty, around and with a nudge, easily caught up to Rick. “If you can get that tractor working on Tuesday we can haul the bales in a couple of days. I can get a day off next week and we can start on it then.”

“Speaking of hay, we’ll need to buy more if we have to bring the cows down sooner,” Rick commented. “I had hoped to turn those pregnant heifers I bought into the lower pasture.”

“Hopefully we won’t need to buy hay if we cross fence the hayfield. I still don’t know why you bought fall calvers. They just don’t work in our program.”

“It’s a good way of making our cash flow more even. Besides, they were a terrific deal, for purebreds.”

“But cow prices are down. And a deal is only a deal—”

“If you can afford it,” Rick intoned, his voice taking on that bored tone that told Amy he heard her but had stopped listening. He pushed his hat back on his head, his auburn hair darkened with sweat. “I know it was a chance, Amy. But sometimes you have to take them.”

Amy sensed it was time to stop hammering. She wished she could let things roll off her back as easily, but she couldn’t. She was the one who did the books, who knew exactly how far they were into their operating loan. She had been in charge since an accident with an auger had taken off half of her father’s leg, ten years ago. She knew she had a tendency to fret, whereas Rick was more inclined to count on things working out in the end. “Okay, Rick, I’ll lay off. But I want you to help me out here, big-time.”

“How’s that?”

“Start praying for rain,” Amy said quietly.

Rick was spared the need to reply as Sandover pranced to one side. Amy drew her own horse back to fall behind him. Sandover was green broke and unpredictable. Amy didn’t want Misty hit by a flying hoof.

“I’d watch his ears, Rick,” Amy warned, watching as the horse tossed his head.

“He’s just high-strung, glad to be out.” Rick pulled Sandover’s head around, and with another defiant shake of his head, the horse settled. Rick flashed his sister a triumphant grin over his shoulder. “See. All under control.”

“I’m going to the Hendersons’. You coming?” Amy asked, ignoring him.

“What do you need to do there?”

Amy shrugged in reply. Rick didn’t need to know, he would just tease her.

“Well?” Rick insisted.

“If you need to know, I want to borrow Elizabeth’s hot rollers and pick up a pair of panty hose she bought for me.”

Rick’s head spun around faster than Sandover’s. “Panty hose?” Rick’s incredulous tone said much more than his words. “Rollers? You won’t even know how to put those things in your hair.”

Amy still said nothing.

“And since when do you care about how you look?”

“Since Tim and I started going out. You know that,” Amy replied, wishing the flush would leave her cheeks. She didn’t need to feel guilty. Her desire to look attractive was nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not in front of her little brother.

“C’mon, Amy. Your motto’s always been ‘death before makeup.’ Your idea of dressing up for a date was to iron your T-shirt. Now you’re going to wear panty hose and—” he put heavy emphasis on the word “—curl you hair. What’s next? Lip gloss?”

“It’s my engagement party. Why wouldn’t I want to look my best?”

Rick drew alongside her, and she chanced a sidelong glance, catching his quizzical look. “I don’t think you’re being straight with me, sis. The last time I saw you dressed up was—” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. His expression brightened and he snapped his fingers. “I remember. Two years ago, you bought a dress and you curled your hair.” He narrowed his eyes. “Two years ago. The last time Paul Henderson came home.”

“Would you give me a break?” Amy said, angry at what he implied. “Like I said before, it’s our engagement party. Tim’s and mine. I bought a new dress for him. I’m curling my hair for him. Paul hasn’t been around for years.”

“And you haven’t spent this much time on how you look in years.”

“And every time he comes home,” Amy continued, pretending not to hear, “he’s got another girl on his arm.”

“You can’t compete, Amy,” Rick said shortly. “He’s way out of your league.”

“Why are you even bringing this up?” Amy turned on her brother, angry and frustrated with the position he put her in. “I happen to be engaged. Tonight’s our engagement party. Tim and I are making plans to get married. Paul hasn’t been important to me for years.” Amy swung Misty around and clucked angrily to her horse.

Misty broke into a gentle lope, the breeze cooling Amy’s heated face.

Why did I overreact? Amy berated herself. Now he’s going to think he’s right.

Misty crested the hill, and Amy drew her to a halt. She glanced back over her shoulder. Sandover plodded slowly along, his head down, looking disarmingly submissive.

Amy turned back, a gentle sigh lifting her shoulders as her eyes took in the view. The valley lay below her, sun-warmed and restful, the sweep of the fawn-colored hills undulating away from her. Solitary stretches of pine trees lined their rims, sending delicate fingers of darker green down the hillsides.

She drew in a slow breath, as if drawing in the life-giving sustenance of the tangy air of the Cariboo. She knew there were other places in God’s creation more spectacular, but she had been placed here, and here was where she belonged, as surely as the grass and as snugly as the rocks.

A soft, warm breeze teased her heated cheeks, and she turned her face to it as she lifted up a quick prayer, thanking God for Tim, friends and home. She shook her head, wondering at her brother. He still didn’t believe that her childhood crush for Paul Henderson had slowly worn away with each year Paul stayed in Vancouver and each new girlfriend he brought home for his brief visits.

The thump of hooves behind her broke into her thoughts. She turned in time to see Sandover rear, his front hooves flashing out.

“Get off that miserable horse,” Amy called out.

But Rick stayed on, a grin splitting his face at the challenge. Sandover bucked, shook his head and came to an abrupt halt. Rick exerted steady pressure on the horse’s bridle, slowly pulling his head up. “Just go on ahead, Amy. I’ll catch up,” he called.

Amy hesitated, then, reassured that Rick indeed had the horse under control, turned and clucked to Misty. If she hurried she would be able to make it to the ranch, get what she needed and be out before Rick and Sandover reached the yard.

Misty hit her long trot, easily covering the ground on the way to the Hendersons’ spread. They traveled a path well-worn over the years, toward a place Amy had considered her second home.

It was Elizabeth and Fred Henderson who had become her second parents when Rick and Amy’s mother, Noreen, left Judd, ten years ago, one month before Judd’s accident.

Elizabeth had dried Amy’s tears both then and during each crisis after that. It was to Elizabeth that Amy at a tender-hearted age of twelve ran with stories of being picked on in school. Elizabeth was the one who shamed Judd into buying a prom dress for Amy and it was Elizabeth who taught Amy to pray, to trust in God for both the large and small things of her life. It was a good trade all the way around. Amy had no mother and a bitter father. And Elizabeth had three boys and no daughter.

And now she was going to open her home for Amy and Tim’s engagement party, a job that would have been Noreen Danyluk’s had she elected to stay with her family.

Amy rode into the yard and dismounted before Misty came to a complete stop. She pulled the reins over Misty’s head and tied her loosely to a corral post. “Be back in a flash, girl,” she murmured to her horse, stroking her neck. Misty blew as if in answer, and Amy turned and jogged up the walk to the verandah.

The door swung easily open and Amy stepped inside, unlacing her roper boots and kicking them off with the ease of many years of running in and out unannounced. “Anybody home?”

“The stuff is in the laundry room,” called out a voice from the top of the stairs. “I’ll be right there.”

Amy walked down the hallway, ducking into a small room tucked under the stairs. A crumpled paper bag lay on the dryer and Amy peeked inside, checking the contents.

“How’s my girl?”

Amy jumped, then glanced over her shoulder at Elizabeth Henderson. She leaned her small frame against the doorjamb, a smile crinkling up her face, brown from the sun. Her gray, short-cropped hair stuck up in all directions. Dust smeared the front of an old high school sweatshirt cast off from one of her sons. The knees of her blue jeans sported twin circles of grime.

Amy turned and gave Elizabeth a quick hug. “Where were you?” Straightening, Amy brushed a cobweb from her wrinkled cheek.

“I started cleaning up the spare room for Paul’s latest girlfriend and ended up in the attic, hauling around all the old junk.”

“When is Paul coming?”

“I expect both of them any minute.” Elizabeth smiled as if in anticipation.

“Tracy, is it?”

Elizabeth shook her head, tucking her arm through Amy’s as she led her back down the hall. “Stacy. They’ve been going out four months. A record for my eldest son. I think it’s actually quite serious.”

“It’s about time he settles down.”

“I know I shouldn’t be impatient, but I’m looking forward to grandchildren and none of the boys are helping me out there. At least I know you won’t disappoint me. It will be wonderful having you living down the road, a married woman.” Elizabeth paused in the doorway to the kitchen. “Do you have time for a cup of tea?”

Amy shook her head regretfully, leaning down to look out of the window. Rick and Sandover were finally in the yard. He had pulled into the shade on the north side of the barn. Sandover pranced impatiently, throwing his head around. “I better not. Rick’s horse is acting pretty rank today.”

Elizabeth took Amy’s bag while Amy pulled on her worn boots. Straightening she caught Elizabeth’s bemused look.

“What?” she asked with a smile, taking the bag back.

“I’m proud of you, Amy. That’s all. God has been good bringing you into our lives.” Elizabeth reached out and lovingly tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “It will be fun having you and Tim living just down the road. And I’ll be glad when you can finally quit that job at the grocery store.”

“I’ll be glad, too. But for now it pays a few bills and gives me money to save up for our wedding.” Amy leaned over and gave Elizabeth a quick, one-armed hug as a feeling of love for this diminutive woman rushed through her. “I’m looking forward to introducing Tim to the aunts and uncles.”

“And they’re all dying to meet the man who has such an important place in your life. And who finally made you lose that crush you had on Paul.”

Amy suppressed a sigh. It stood to reason that an occasion like an engagement party was a time to remember old boyfriends and crushes. “That was a long time ago, and I was a silly little girl.”

“Not so silly.” Elizabeth smiled, crossing her arms over the faded sweatshirt. “Every girl has to start somewhere.”

“It just took me longer to quit, that’s all.” Amy pushed open the door, and they paused a moment on the verandah spinning out the farewell in the manner of old friends and family.

“God works things out in His own way.” Elizabeth slanted Amy an apologetic look. “Paul could never settle here, while Tim seems more than happy to.” She sighed. “It’s hard to admit that your oldest son needs to do the most growing up.”

Amy shook her head, remembering Paul’s various escapades. She could see them with a more critical eye, now that she had Tim to compare Paul to. “Paul has always been restless. As long as I can remember he had to drive the fastest, work the hardest, break what he could bend, and push what could be moved.”

“He needs to find peace, and he won’t the way he’s living,” Elizabeth said. “It’s just a continuation of him haring around the countryside, looking for challenges and excitement. Only now he does it wearing a suit and using a cell phone.”

Amy laughed at the image. It wasn’t too hard to transpose the image of Paul Henderson—one arm out of the window of his pickup as he maneuvered his way through potholes and over rocks with a pretty girl clinging to him—with the image of a more civilized man, cell phone to his ear driving a car shaped like a bullet.

The roar of a vehicle winding down the valley broke the silence.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s Paul now.” Elizabeth stepped forward to squint at the plume of dust roiling behind a red sports car driven far too fast for the rough country roads of the Cariboo.

Amy frowned as the car came closer. “I thought you said he drove a Land Rover?”

“That’s our Paul. Always buying and selling, changing vehicles as often as he changes girlfriends, looking for the perfect match.” Elizabeth smiled, but Amy sensed a note of censure in her voice.

“If his new girlfriend and that car’s a match, she’ll be pretty classy,” Amy commented, her eye on the sleek sports car.

The car made one more turn, flew into the yard, gravel churning as it came to a sudden stop.

The door flew open. At that same moment Rick cried out. From the lee of the barn, a startled Sandover exploded into the yard.

The gelding whirled, bugled a challenge and bucked. Rick held on, his face grim. Sandover arched his back, cleared the ground, and Rick flew through the air, landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

Amy felt her blood turn to ice in her veins as the horse reared above Rick, mane flying. Rick rolled out of the way of his flashing hooves. Sandover came crashing down, just missing Rick. The horse shook his head and reared again.

Amy willed her leaden feet to move, her arms to function. She dropped the bag she held, jumped off the verandah and ran.

Hands caught her from behind, voices called out warnings. Without looking to see who it was, she shook free, stumbling to where Rick lay. He peeked over his arm, flashed another grin at Amy and got up.

Amy felt relief sluice through her. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Sandover reared again, his eyes wild, foam flecking his bridle.

“Move, Rick,” she yelled, throwing her hat at the horse. Sandover shied away, spinning, then stopped to face her.

Amy kept herself between Rick and the horse, praying, watching. “Get going, Rick,” she snapped, her eyes on Sandover.

Rick scrambled out of the way.

“Amy, you get away from that horse,” she heard a familiar deep voice yell.

She couldn’t. The horse was unpredictable, and she had to get him back into the corral.

Sandover threw his head, and Amy caught the reins as they whipped past her.

He reared and she let him go up, letting the reins slip through her hand. Then, using the brief moment of instability, when he was at his highest point, she moved over, pulling on his reins to turn his head. Again he went up. Again she pulled him in a circle, working him closer and closer as Sandover churned up the ground. Slowly the circle tightened. Then as quickly as it began, Sandover stopped, flanks heaving, head lowered.

Amy waited, ensuring his submission, slowly pulling his head around. Only then did she relax her hold on the reins.

Sweat ran in rivulets down her temples, between her shoulder blades. Anger and edgy fear coursed through her. The horse could easily have killed or badly injured either her or Rick. Pulling in a deep breath, she felt a tremor in her gut. Each time she had worked with this horse he brought her right to the limit before he gave in. But she couldn’t indulge in histrionics right now. She had to get the horse into the corral and the tack off.

A dull throb made itself known in her left shoulder. She couldn’t remember being struck by the horse. She clenched her teeth against the pain, pulling Sandover’s head around to lead him to the corral. She ignored her trembling knees and the ache that grew worse with each movement as she tied Sandover to the top rail.

“Good job, Amy.” A deep voice spoke from the other side of the fence, and Amy looked over her shoulder into eyes as blue as midsummer lake water.

Paul Henderson.

He stared back at her, his incredibly blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. A thin-lipped mouth turned up in a tight smile. He wore his hair longer than the last visit, dark streaks threading through the blond. His face had lengthened; his jawline seemed stronger.

“Hey, Paul,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her hands as they unbuckled, loosened and tugged. Her fingers didn’t want to cooperate.

Reaction, she reminded herself.

“You scared me, Amy.” The words were spoken quietly, but Amy sensed a note of concern behind them that couldn’t help but warm her. “Do you need any help?” he asked.

Amy glanced at him, looking past his familiar face to the unfamiliar clothes. A teal green silk shirt that looked as if it cost more than the saddle was tucked into gray pants that fell in well-tailored lines to leather loafers. She smiled ruefully. “Thanks, but I can manage.”

She reached up to pull the saddle off. Pain wrenched through her arm, and she almost dropped it.

“Amy, are you okay?” Ignoring his expensive clothes, Paul sprang over the fence.

Amy stared fiercely at the saddle, concentrating on breathing through waves of pain that slowly eased.

“You’re hurt,” Paul said, his hands pulling hers away from the saddle.

Amy shook her head. But another hot stab shot through her arm. “I’m okay,” she managed to say through clenched teeth.

“No, you’re not.” Paul reached out to touch her, and she pulled away.

“Yes, I am.” She didn’t want him touching her. She just wanted to go home.

Elizabeth wandered over, accompanied by a tall, slim girl. She wore a loose silk jacket in earth tones that hung artfully over a narrow skirt.

Amy caught a swift impression of soft brown eyes, delicate features and a flawless complexion. Gorgeous, of course. Paul never came home with the plain ones. Amy was suddenly extremely self-conscious of her dusty face and old clothes.

“Amy, I’d like to introduce you to Stacy.” Elizabeth leaned over the fence, the beautiful woman standing beside her. “Stacy, this is Amy.”

“Hello, Stacy.” It would hurt to shake her hand so Amy only nodded. Flustered at what must seem a show of ill manners she turned to Rick. “You’ll have to walk back with Sandover.” She looked back at Elizabeth, Stacy and Paul. “I should get going. I’ll see you all tonight.” She kept her smile on her face as she mounted Misty and rode her out of the yard. Once out of sight, she allowed herself a grimace of pain. Stubborn woman, she reprimanded herself. Too proud to ask for help. She only hoped that no serious damage was done. She could ill afford to be laid up with a sore shoulder. She had too much work to do on the ranch.

Glancing backward she saw the Hendersons going back into the house and her brother starting on his long walk home.

She didn’t feel sorry for him, but it was hard not to feel a little sorry for herself. Somehow she had to get ready for a party tonight, convince her father and Rick to come, and find something else to wear. The sleeveless dress was out of the question now.

Chapter Two

“And how are you really feeling?”

Amy almost jumped at the sound of Paul’s voice behind her on the stairs. She had taken some time away from the party and the congratulations of Henderson aunts and uncles and found sanctuary in the stairwell. Paul lowered himself to the stair beside her and she scooted over to give him room.

“Where were you?” she asked, avoiding his question and his probing gaze.

“Checking out my old bedroom.” He smiled at her and, reaching over, touched her shoulder again. “This afternoon that horse kicked you, didn’t he?”

Amy shrugged, then winced. She knew from past experience she could never fool Paul.

“Yes, I don’t know how it happened, but Sandover’s hoof grazed my shoulder. It feels a little better now.” Amy pulled a face. “But not much,” she conceded. She turned to Paul who leaned his head against the wall beside him. His even features looked relaxed, his shapely mouth curved into a gentle smile. She remembered countless times she had lost herself in daydreams over his face, creating the eternal cliché. Young girl in love with older neighbor boy. But Paul always humored her, and in return to her love letters, would write his own back—joking letters full of his terrible puns, reassuring her that someday her prince would come. In his way he gently broke it to her that the prince wouldn’t be him. He didn’t intend on staying around Williams Lake long enough to fill that role for her.

“What are you smiling about?” he prodded.

“Remembering old daydreams,” she said turning her engagement ring on her finger. Her love for Tim gave her the confidence and ability to look at Paul with new eyes. Her reaction to him this afternoon was more about the surprise of seeing him than anything else, she had concluded.

“And what conclusion have you come to?”

“That you were right,” she said. “You weren’t the right person for me. And I wasn’t the right person for you. I see that in each and every girlfriend you bring home.”

“And what do you think of this one?”

“Hard to say. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to her yet.”

“And I haven’t met your Tim.” He smiled back at her. “So what’s he like? Does he floss? Work out? Watch his cholesterol level? Tell me how you met.”

And Amy did. She had been arguing with her accounts manager when Tim Enders walked in. In a matter of minutes he had soothed the ruffled feathers and managed to put together a deal that worked for everyone. And then he had asked her out for dinner.

“One date led to another and pretty soon we were horseback riding, going for drives, fishing and, most important of all,” she added with a conspiratorial grin, “sitting together in church. And that pretty much sealed the engagement. It wasn’t official until the day we were up in the mountains for a hike.” Amy fell silent remembering the burst of sheer joy when he asked her, the feeling of belonging to somebody who wanted to share his life with her overwhelming her.

“He’s a lucky guy.”

“And I’m very blessed.” Amy nodded, looking down at her engagement ring once again. “I want to be a good and faithful wife to him.”

Silence hung between them punctuated by the sounds of laughter coming from the living room below as both realized the import of her words.

“I know you will be, Amy. You are a person whose love is faithful and pure.”

“Thanks.” The compliment warmed her, creating a mood that seemed to settle their relationship onto a new and more comfortable plane. “And you’re a good friend.”

“One that hasn’t been around much lately,” he said with a rueful look.

“Well you’re here now, and I’m glad you came. And now I’d like to find out how Stacy managed to snag a guy half the girls in the Cariboo were yearning after.”

Paul laughed. “C’mon.”

“If I take away the ones that were panting after Mark Andrews before he got married and ignore the ones who are engaged,” Amy pursed her lips thoughtfully, “maybe not quite half.”

Paul just shook his head.

“So,” Amy continued, “is she the one?”

“I think so,” Paul traced the crease of his pants, his look thoughtful.

Amy bit her lip, knowing her next question trod on shaky ground. “Which church does she go to?”

“None. But neither do I, so that’s no problem.”

Amy turned away, suddenly disappointed in her old hero. “That’s too bad, Paul.”

“You sound like my parents,” he replied testily.

“I was hoping I sounded more like your sister.”

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.”

Amy shook her head. “You’re five years older than me. I’ll always be younger. I’m hoping I will always be like a sister to you.”

“You’ll always be a sassy little redhead, that’s what,” Paul said, his smirk skipping over the serious tone of their previous conversation, creating an easy return to the give and take of their youth.

Amy glanced sidelong at him, her smile acknowledging the change in the tone of the conversation. Paul hadn’t changed, but as she analyzed her new feelings for him, she realized with thankfulness that she had grown up.

“There you are.” Stacy stood below them, smiling uncertainly up at both of them.

Paul got up and walked down to join her. “Just catching up with an old friend,” he said easily, brushing a kiss across her soft cheek. “You never did get a proper introduction to Amy did you?” He looked up at Amy, who still sat on the stairs, a soft smile curving up delicate lips tinted with gloss. Her gleaming copper hair flowed over her shoulders, curling up at the bottom. Warm gray eyes fringed with dark lashes looked down at him with humor in them.

The tomboy he had always remembered looked feminine and incredibly appealing. To be sure, she still wore jeans and a shirt, but the jeans were black, the linen shirt was decorated with embroidery on the sleeves. It was a look that suited her as much as Stacy’s soft flowing dress became her. He glanced at his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but compare the two women. Stacy always looked elegant, composed, everything coordinated. But the Amy in front of him looked nothing like the dusty, bedraggled girl of this afternoon. He remembered again how easily she handled a horse that he would have walked a wide circle around.

“So are you going to introduce us or do I have to do it myself?” Amy asked, tilting her head to one side as she came down the stairs.

“Sorry.” Paul mentally shook himself and drew Stacy closer. “Stacy Trottier, this is Amy Danyluk, neighbor, friend and the little sister I never had.” He turned to Stacy who shifted her cup of coffee to one hand and reached out one well-manicured hand as he spoke.

“So what kind of work do you do in Vancouver?” Amy asked, shaking Stacy’s hand.

“I work with computers.” Stacy pulled her hand back.

“That’s a pretty broad field.” Amy laughed. “What kind of work?”

Stacy took a sip of her coffee looking at Amy over the rim of her cup. “I set up Web-sites and program computers.”

“How do you do that?” Amy persisted, unintimidated by Stacy’s terse replies.

“Do you know what an ISP is or an HTML editor?” she asked as if challenging Amy.

Amy raised her eyebrows with a smile, as if unashamed of her ignorance. “I don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t even start, Amy,” Paul warned. “Stacy can talk about the ’Net until the cows come home, and you and I both know cows never do.”

“I don’t mind,” Amy replied. “Someday I’d like to get a computer. I’m sure there’s something on the Internet about cattle.”

“There is,” Stacy said, leaning forward. “You’ll find information on things you can’t even imagine.”

“And a lot of things you can’t imagine people would want to know,” Paul added.

Stacy shrugged. “That comes with the freedom of expression inherent in the Web.”

“I don’t think Amy’s particularly interested in the Internet anyhow. Why don’t you ask her about her cows?” Paul continued. Once Stacy started on her favorite topic, she didn’t easily stop. He knew Amy was only being courteous.

But neither paid him any attention. Amy asked Stacy another question. Amy was always polite, Paul thought. Always polite and always careful to make people feel good. For a moment he thought she would be put off by Stacy’s abrupt attitude, but Amy acted as if she hadn’t noticed.

Paul watched as she tilted her head to one side, trying to comprehend, interjecting with quiet questions. She nodded, as if she finally understood and then dropped her head back and laughed at something Stacy said.

Her hair slipped across her shoulder, her gray eyes sparkled. Paul couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He watched her more than his own girlfriend. In fact, since the party started he had watched her, knowing where she stood and who she talked to and how much time she spent with Tim.

Not exactly the behavior of a man in love, he thought, criticizing himself wryly as he moved away from the bottom of the stairs and the two women, into the living room and the rest of his family.

His capriciousness seemed symptomatic of his life the past few years. What he had didn’t satisfy him, so he looked to what he didn’t have. As far as his relationship with Stacy was concerned, he had thought it would last longer than it had. It didn’t help that their work always seemed to come between them and their relationship.

That’s why he planned this trip home. He liked Stacy and knew he wouldn’t find better. He wanted to make their relationship work. He didn’t feel so empty when he was around her.

He worked his way through the family room, past the younger cousins who grumbled about homework and jobs. He dodged aunts who bustled about refilling coffee cups as they caught up on calamities and exulted over joys. He poured himself a coffee.

The house was full to bursting with family, friends and members of the church, and his harried mother was in her element. It had been a few years since Paul had been to a family get-together, and he hadn’t realized until tonight what he’d missed.

He and Stacy entertained frequently and attended functions put on by their friends. But that’s precisely what they were. Functions. Another tool used by those on the way up, to network, schmooze and gather information. He had enjoyed them, but each year created an increasing restlessness he couldn’t pin down.

The past months had been especially hectic. He and his partner, Bruce DeVries, had successfully bid on an apartment block in Victoria and two more in Vancouver proper. That meant evenings and weekends taken up with verifying subcontractors’ prices, meetings with engineers, organizing schedules, and all the while keeping the current projects flowing smoothly. It had just about fried him out.

This holiday had been in the works for a while. Plaintive calls from his mother and quiet requests from his father had been sandwiched between urgent faxes, whirlwind financing, cell phones ringing in his car and pagers going off on job sites.

Then his partner dropped the bomb. Bruce wanted to quit the business. He gave Paul first option to buy out his share. Paul felt as if he had come to an important point in his career. Buying Bruce out would give him the opportunity to expand the business in a way Bruce never wanted. He knew Henderson Contractors had the experience and reputation that would give them the edge in larger projects. It would mean bigger challenges and bigger returns.

Paul swirled the coffee in the bottom of his cup, frowning. It would also mean more work, hiring a couple of people to do the work Bruce did, more headaches and more stress.

He finished his coffee in one gulp and set the empty cup on a side table. Somehow none of these challenges held the allure it once would have. Lately he felt as if he ran harder and got nowhere. Always just out of his grasp was the happiness he kept thinking he would find with the right combination of changes in his life.

So when the invitation came for Amy’s engagement, he took a chance, scheduled three weeks of holidays so he could think. Maybe in the open fields of his family’s ranch he could find a way to fill the emptiness that grew with each increase in his net worth.

“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?”

Amy felt her heart lurch. She shook her head, almost smiling at her own foolishness. “I never made a big secret of my crush on Paul. And that’s all it ever was. A crush. To Paul I was just a pesky little girl who followed him and wrote notes to him.” She looked up at him, willing him to believe her. “I’ve never meant anything to him, and in the past few years, I’ve realized that he’s not the kind of man I want as my husband. He’s had more girlfriends than you have even dreamed of, and he’s lived a life that is far beyond what I seek in a husband.” She smiled as she reached up to touch his smooth cheek. “Our relationship is built on a communal faith in God. Something I think my parents missed out on.” Her heart constricted as she thought of her mother. Her broken vows had created a heartache that Amy would never wish on any child. “You wait and see, Tim Enders. I’ll be a good and faithful wife to you. I will.” Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she pulled Tim’s head down, sealing her vow with a kiss.

Chapter Three

Paul paused in the doorway of the kitchen. He had been on his way outside, but the sight of his mother at the sink stopped him. The morning sun shone on her short gray hair, neatly combed. The sleeves of her cream-colored jersey were pushed past her elbows and black stirrup pants cinched bare feet.

“Why don’t you grab a towel and pitch in?” she said when she caught his reflection in the window in front of her.

“I haven’t done dishes in years. When are you going to get a dishwasher?” Paul yawned as he ambled into the kitchen. He leaned over to plant a kiss on his mother’s cheek. He grimaced at the dishes piled high on the counter, hooked a stool with his foot and dropped onto it. “I thought we did all the dishes last night.”

Elizabeth shrugged, rinsed off a cup and set it on the drain tray. “I found these downstairs in the spare room.”

“Well it wasn’t us. Dad, Derk and I were playing pool with Amy’s fiancé most of the time.” Paul rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and tugged the dish towel off his mother’s shoulder.

“And what did you think of Amy’s Tim?”

“Seems okay,” Paul replied, keeping his tone non committal. “I have a hard time seeing him living on the ranch like he says he will.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Why?”

“C’mon, Mom. Did you see what he wore last night?” Paul stuffed the tea towel in a glass and twisted it. “Looked like he was auditioning for a spot on a soap opera.”

“Actually he was dressed a lot like you.”

“This is the way to dress,” he said. “Old, faded jeans.” He tugged on the front of his shirt. “Old faded shirt. When in the country…”

“And it was their engagement party. Of course he’d be dressed nicely.”

Paul heard the tone of censure in his mother’s voice and it made him feel like a sulky teenager. But he pressed on. “That may be, but I still can’t imagine him living at Danyluks’.”

“He talks about doing it, so your imagination doesn’t count for much.” Elizabeth eased another batch of dishes in the sink.

“I hope he likes driving.” Paul commented as he pulled another dish off the tray. He wondered why he cared how Tim felt about Amy and the ranch. I could never stop being a big brother, he thought, smiling. “When are they getting married?”

“Amy hasn’t mentioned a specific date, although I think Tim would like it to be soon.” Elizabeth glanced at him over her shoulder. “She wants to get some money together and get the house fixed up before they move in. She also wants to get a trailer on the yard for Rick and Judd.”

“That would be a good idea. I can’t imagine four people living in that house.” Paul shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like she’s in any rush, though.”

“I think she’d like to get married soon, but her pride is preventing that. Pride and a lot of work. Rick’s a big help, but she still takes on most of the responsibility herself. I just wish she’d quit her job.”

“She still working at that accountant’s office?”

“She worked full-time up until four years ago—when Judd started getting worse. Now she just works part-time at the grocery store and tries to run the ranch on her days off.”

“What’s wrong with Judd?”

Elizabeth shrugged rinsing the cup in her hand. “He’s become much quieter. He used to be so stubborn and ornery, but not lately. Amy’s been pushing him to go to a doctor, but he refuses.”

“I’m surprised Amy still manages to keep up her relationship with Tim.”

“She and Tim spend many dates at home with Judd, keeping him entertained.” Elizabeth set the last of the cups on the drain tray and dried her hands.

“Doesn’t sound like such a bad way to spend a night.” Paul rolled down his sleeves as he thought of all the running around he and Stacy did when they found time to spend together. Supper out, the theater, opera, the occasional movie. An evening at home sounded appealing. “But you haven’t told me yet what you think of Amy’s Tim,” Paul teased as he finished drying the cups.

Elizabeth shrugged. “I like him very much. He’s a sincere Christian, he has a good job and is well liked in the community. He’s tall, good looking…”

“Sounds like you’re talking about Dad’s prize bull.”

“Don’t be flip,” Elizabeth admonished. “He’s worked at the bank for the past two years, so hasn’t really been around that long.”

“Long enough to make a move on Amy and propose to her.”

“Paul,” she warned.

He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t know he meant that much to you, as well.”

Elizabeth shot him a level look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.”

Paul looked back at her, holding her gaze. “I guess I just have to get used to the idea that little Amy Danyluk is old enough to get married.”

“She hasn’t been ‘little Amy Danyluk’ for a long time now.”

“She hasn’t been chasing me around for a while, either.”

“Aha, you are jealous,” his mother cried, laughing at him.

Paul flicked the towel at her in reply. “I’ll be able to dance at her wedding, Mom.”

Elizabeth, her face suddenly thoughtful, drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds out.

“Where are you?” Paul asked, setting a stack of plates in the cupboard.

“Being a mother. Thinking about weddings.” She looked up at Paul, her expression hopeful. “I guess I’m wondering if Dad and I will ever throw an engagement party for you.”

Paul sighed and leaned back against the counter, wrapping and unwrapping the damp towel around his hands. “Maybe. Someday,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

“You’ve been saying that for the past three girlfriends.” Elizabeth rescued the towel and hung it on the rack by the stove.

Paul blew out his breath and crossed his arms. He thought her lack of questions last night was due to a change in tactics, but he should have known she would corner him sooner or later. “I don’t think marriage always has to come up when two people are dating.”

“Then why are they dating?”

“Companionship, friendship…” The words sounded lame to him.

“Friends and companions you go fishing with. Girlfriends you kiss when you think your mother isn’t looking.” Elizabeth tapped him on the chest as she passed him.

Paul had to remind himself that he was almost thirty and hadn’t needed to answer to his mother for close to twelve years. “Stacy and I understand each other…”

“I would hope so, you both speak English,” his mother said with a laugh, leaning back against the counter beside him. “I know you’re serious about her, this is the first girlfriend you’ve brought here for longer than a day.”

Paul tapped his fingers against his arm, as he sought words to explain his and Stacy’s relationship. “I want her to see where I came from, what made me who I am.”

“And what did?”

Paul frowned.

“Made you who you are,” his mother explained.

He looked ahead at the neat table in the large kitchen, now pushed against the wall. Once it had been stretched out, surrounded with chairs, now only four chairs were tucked under it. He remembered many family meals around the table, times of sharing and Bible reading and prayer. How many times had he sat at this same table and looked out the window wishing he was anywhere else but here, in this kitchen?

“I’m not even sure who I am these days, Mom,” he replied softly. “I’m making good money. I have lots of stuff. The business is even more successful than I thought it would be. I always thought I could quit when I got to the point I wanted to, but I just keep on going and going. It doesn’t really stop.”

“The toughest thing about success is that you must remain being a success,” his mother quoted. “You don’t quit. It lures you on out of necessity or out of a desire to challenge yourself.”

Paul laughed shortly. “You’re right.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, studying the toes of his socks. “The only problem is each time I finish something, each time I check my bank balance, it still feels empty. I work and look forward to what I can buy with what I make, but by the time I open what I’ve bought, or park it, or moor it or whatever, it still isn’t really what I wanted.” He frowned, hearing his thoughts spoken out loud for the first time in years. Any girlfriend he had didn’t understand. They usually liked the fancy condo, the fast cars, dining out in fancy restaurants, the boat, the ski trips to Whistler-Blackcomb. Any of his friends openly envied his success. None of them would understand that he sought more and he hadn’t found it in spending or experiencing.

“What you’ve wanted all your life isn’t really what you need.”

Paul nodded. “I was just thinking that.” He lifted his head catching his mother’s concerned look. “Did you know how badly I wanted to get away from here? Did you know how dissatisfied I was once, with this life-style? With going to church? With living with people you’ve grown up with?”

“We knew.” Elizabeth reached over and rubbed his arm. “We didn’t like it, but we had to let go. Just like we had to let go of the other boys. Doesn’t mean we have loved you any less or prayed for you any less. Tyrell, Derk, they’ve each had to make their own choices, as well.”

“At least Derk is still close by.”

Elizabeth nodded. “He comes up pretty regularly. Helps out when he can. I think he’d like to start up his own place. If not here, then somewhere in the Cariboo. We never planned on building up this place for our children to take over. Your father and I wanted each of you to figure out for yourself what you wanted.”

Paul pushed himself away from the counter, a wry grin curving his lips. “Trouble is, Mom, I still don’t know.” He had tried to articulate to his mother the hunger that clutched him these days, a desire for more than he had. He felt as if he expended a lot of energy and received nothing for it in return. Hence the trip back home, to his family, to his spiritual roots.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here.”

“I guess it’s a beginning,” he admitted.

Elizabeth pushed herself away from the counter and, reaching up, pulled his head down to hers. She pressed a kiss on his cheek and smiled up at him with eyes as blue as his own. “I just want you to remember that Dad and I love you, but more important, God loves you.”

“I know that, Mom,” he whispered, pulling her into a fierce hug. “I just need some space and time.”

“You’ve come to the right place for that.”

Elizabeth hugged him back, and it felt so good.

The shrill ring of the phone broke the peace of the moment. Elizabeth pulled away and answered it. Paul leaned back again, a feeling of deep love for his mother filling him.

“Is Stacy up yet?” Elizabeth pressed the mouthpiece against her chest and turned to Paul. “It’s some fellow named Jonathan. Says it’s urgent.” Elizabeth lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Says the computer’s down.”

“I’m sure she is,” he replied, feeling a twinge of annoyance with Stacy for giving her workers the ranch’s number. They had promised each other an uninterrupted week at the ranch and whatever happened in Vancouver would be handled by their co-workers.

He ran upstairs and tapped on Stacy’s door. “Are you up?”

“Come on in,” Stacy called out.

Paul stepped into the brightly lit room, and his heart sank at the sight of his girlfriend sitting on the bed with papers scattered around her. He walked to her side and, picking up a file folder, playfully tapped her on the head.

“I thought we were on holidays?”

“Well—” she raised her eyebrows, flashing him a grin “—I was lying in bed this morning, trying to find a way to make one of my customer’s program work more efficiently and had an inspiration.”

“Jonathan will be glad to hear that.”

“What do you mean?” Stacy asked, reaching for a paper covered with scribbling.

“He’s on the phone.”

“Now?”

“As we speak.” Paul pushed some papers away and sat down on the bed.

“Why didn’t you say so right away?” Stacy jumped up, but Paul caught her hand.

“Because I thought this holiday was to be a break for both of us. I wanted to take you riding this morning without your mind on the office back in the city.” Paul ran his finger over her well-manicured ones, marveling at their softness. “I’m hoping you’ll tell him to take a hike.”

Stacy looked down at him, smiling lightly. Bending over, she brushed a kiss over his forehead then straightened. “A hike for Jonathan might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not the athletic type. I’m sure it’s some little problem I can fix over the phone.”

Paul smiled and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, watching her trim figure as she left, appreciating how she looked in jeans as opposed to Ungaro or Ralph Lauren.

He dropped his head against the wall, as he thought of his conversation with his mother a few moments ago. He liked Stacy, maybe even loved her. They had a lot of fun together. She laughed at his terrible jokes and enjoyed the same movies and music. She gave him business ideas and helped him with his computers, something he hated working with.

She was the first girl he had gone out with that didn’t bore him or talk about trivial things. He smiled as he remembered many deep discussions over economics and politics. Together they had saved British Columbia, Canada and North America many times.

He straightened, wondering what was taking her so long to return. He went downstairs to find her.

She was pacing around the kitchen, her hand worrying the phone cord, the receiver pressed against her head. She stopped, frowning at the floor. “It’s so hard to say from over here. Sounds like some hacker got past their firewall. No I can’t get on line from here. Doesn’t sound like it would help anyhow. Can’t you figure out what happened?” Stacy rolled her eyes and crossed the room once more, tethered by the telephone cord, fairly emanating frustration. “Okay, okay. I get the message. I’ll come.” She nodded impatiently. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” With an angry click, she hung up the phone, turning to Paul. Her expression was apologetic. “I have to go back….”

“Stacy, don’t go. Jonathan knew for the past month that you were leaving this week. Surely they can handle this small crisis.” Paul walked across the room and caught her by the shoulders. “This is the only holiday you’ve taken for a long time.”

Stacy nodded. “I know all that, Paul, but I won’t be able to relax knowing a customer’s system is down. It’s not really a small crisis. We just started up, and we can’t afford to lose any business. I can’t leave customers waiting.”

“What about a boyfriend?” Paul stroked her hair, his tone light, but his frustration just below the surface.

“I guess I’m hoping he’ll understand.” Stacy smiled up at him, but Paul wouldn’t be cajoled.

For the past months he had eagerly anticipated showing Stacy the place where he grew up, the hills he wandered through as a child. He wanted to show her that part of himself. He had planned riding trips, picnics and long, leisurely drives. Now, with one phone call from Vancouver, it all disintegrated.

“Phone someone else to take care of it,” he said, his voice clipped, hands resting on his hips.

“Paul, I’m the one who set up the system. I’m responsible for fixing the glitch.” Stacy reached up and cupped his face with her hands. “I know how much you’ve looked forward to this. I’ll try to come back as soon as it’s fixed. You’re going to be here another couple of weeks, aren’t you?”

Paul couldn’t help it. He pulled away. It had taken her months to arrange this particular holiday. He knew once she was back in the office another crisis would keep her there, then another and another.

Stacy tilted her head, taking a step towards him. “Paul please don’t be like this. If it was Bruce who needed help, wouldn’t you go?”

Paul looked down at her, trying to imagine the reverse situation and he knew he would have stayed. “When do you want to leave?” was all he said.

Stacy smiled her thanks. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Paul nodded and watched as she turned and ran back up the stairs to her bedroom. He glanced at his mother who frowned at the egg carton she had pulled out.

“I guess you won’t be here for breakfast.”

Paul shook his head. “We’ll probably grab something along the way. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter, Paul. I was only going to make some bacon and eggs.”

“With homemade bread and farm-fresh eggs.” Paul sighed, thinking about the rubber food they would pick up from a drive-through. “I’ll have to wait for that until tomorrow.”

“You’re coming back aren’t you?”

Paul winked at his mother. “I’m only going to be in Vancouver long enough to drop Stacy off, kiss her goodbye and head back here.”

He waited outside, leaning against his car. His eyes drifted over the hills, appreciating the emptiness of the country, the space that let you stretch your arms out. This was real, solid.

Stacy had tried to get him excited about staring at a computer screen, sending e-mail around the world with a click of a button, looking at things that moved on the screen, but he never picked up on her enthusiasm. He preferred dealing with people face-to-face. Cell phones, pagers, intercoms and fax machines were bad enough.

He sighed as he thought of the long drive down the Coquihalla and the even worse one through the oppressive bumper-to-bumper traffic of the heavily populated Fraser Valley. If he hurried he could be back here by late evening.

Stacy was even better than her word, and ten minutes later he stowed her elegant luggage in the trunk of the car. He started the engine while Stacy bid his mother a hurried goodbye and got in. The door barely clicked shut when Paul took off in a cloud of gravel and dust, disregarding the paint job of his car.

His impatience translated into speed and he barreled recklessly down the road, slowing only momentarily for an old one-ton truck lumbering down the road, a dilapidated plywood stock box on the back. He swerved around it, fishtailed, corrected and left it behind.

“I do want to get home in one piece, Paul,” Stacy joked, glancing over her shoulder at the truck that shrank by the second.

Paul tried to stifle his impatience with his girlfriend, her job and the life-style that demanded constant work to maintain. With a self-deprecating shake of his head, he glanced at the speedometer and slowed down.

He flicked on the radio, hitting the CD player. Music instead of conversation filled the silence.

Stacy glanced at him, shrugged and pulled out her briefcase.

Paul knew he should try to be more communicative, but it would mean ignoring all that had passed between them, and he wasn’t ready to do that.

It was going to be a long drive, but hopefully a peaceful return trip.

Amy clenched the steering wheel of the truck, her heart pounding. The fancy car flashed past her out of nowhere. Though it was almost obscured by the cloud of dust, it wasn’t hard to identify the vehicle.

Paul Henderson’s. Heading back home already.

Amy didn’t understand her own disappointment. It shouldn’t matter to her that he had left four days and two weeks earlier than planned. It was typical of Paul. Even Elizabeth had wondered if he could stay away from Vancouver for three weeks.

But she certainly hadn’t expected his visit would be this protracted.

The old truck rocked as Sandover threw his weight over, trying to break free of the rope that tied his head to the front of the truck’s box. Not for the first time Amy wished they had a stock trailer to move their horses around instead of this cumbersome one-ton truck with its home-made box. Two horses fit easily in it, but the truck had no shocks, and each bump in the road knocked the horses around which, in turn, rocked the truck.

She turned her attention to the road, preferring not to think about the rope that was the only thing keeping Sandover in a box with no back.

She had enough on her mind without having to cede any head space to this wild horse. In a couple of weeks the heifers Rick bought would come, and she and Rick needed to get the loading chutes and corrals ready. Fortunately she had enough materials. All she needed now was for her shoulder to heal quickly. A quick glance at her watch showed her that she was right on schedule. She had enough time to drop Sandover off at the auction market and get to work.

Another quick glance over her shoulder proved that Sandover had finally settled down. Amy relived the moment in the Hendersons’ yard. It had scared her, and she realized she didn’t need an animal around that was just going to cause trouble. She had to be ruthless.

The trip to town went peacefully. Amy dropped him off at the auction mart, then hurried back to the truck and her job at the grocery store.

Chapter Four

Clouds drifted in overnight, and Sunday morning Paul woke to a low gray sky. A slow, steady British Columbia rain drummed against his bedroom window. He turned his head and glanced at the face of the old metal clock beside him as it ticked off the seconds with a heavy, no-nonsense sound. Six in the morning. Church didn’t start until ten o’clock.

His parents still slept, and he knew if he got up, he would wake them. Sunday was literally a day of rest for his family. He knew they wouldn’t be up for an hour and a half.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling of his former bedroom. The fluorescent stars he stuck up there as a young boy still hung, forming the constellations—the Big Dipper, Orion, Cassiopeia. He remembered reading at night and shutting off the light just as his parents’ feet hit the bottom stairs. They would come to tuck him in, and the still-glowing stars would betray him. How he devoured books then. The only thing he read regularly now were stock market reports and blueprints. Hardly the stuff of relaxation.

Paul flipped restlessly onto his side, wide awake. He wasn’t used to lying in bed. In Vancouver once he woke up, he was out of bed and running.

You’re here to relax, he reminded himself. It’s Sunday, a day of rest.

He looked past the clock and noticed a book on the antique bedside table beside it. Reaching over, he turned it around to look at the cover.

A Bible. Trust his mother to lay not-so-gentle hints. Propping himself up on one elbow, he lay the book on the bed. May as well start relaxing now, he thought. Flipping it open, he glanced over words that hearkened to his youth. They were familiar and yet, after such a long absence from his life, new.

He paged through listings of commandments. Joshua’s exploits, battles of the judges of Israel, Job’s laments, all slid past his eyes. Paul turned the pages slowly, not really reading until he reached the Psalms.

“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked…his delight is in the law of the Lord. He is like a tree planted by streams of water.” Paul laid his finger on the lines of the first Psalm and frowned lightly.

He certainly did not feel like a rooted tree, he felt more like the chaff the psalmist spoke of, blown by the wind. The past few years had been an ever-increasing whirl of business and pleasure. Speeding it up hadn’t satisfied, it only left him dizzy.

Paul closed the Bible, uncomfortable with having his shortcomings laid in front of him each time he turned around. How many years had it been since he had gone to church? He planned on going with his parents this morning. That was always the deal when he came home.

But before this? Paul frowned. He didn’t even know if there was a church close to the condo he lived in. He was sure he passed one each time he drove to work. Looking down at the Bible, he sighed. He had moved far from where he had grown up and what his parents had taught him.

And lately the emptiness of his own life showed him clearly that what he had tried to fill it with wasn’t enough. He had fought coming home for too long because he knew it would mean looking at his life-style and reexamining what he had been working for. He knew he had some big changes to make in his life, but didn’t know if he dared.

It was time to get to work and stop thinking so much.

His dad had a few chores to do before church. Paul could do them, instead of lying there going over ground that bore nothing.

And though he hadn’t been to church in a while, he found himself looking forward to the gathering, the singing and the reminder of something greater than the stock market and government regulations.

The welcome rain that began on Sunday hung in the valley for the next two days. It kept Paul indoors working through the list of repairs his mother had tacked on the fridge, as well as the jobs his father had listed in his head.

The chores weren’t onerous and gave Paul and his father a chance to catch up on each other’s lives. Hours were spent hunkered over engines, hunched over tack as they worked. Paul shared his needs with his father. Fred reminded him of God’s unconditional love that always called his children back. Paul listened, storing the information away, much like he did for any business decision. His relationship with God had been much like his awareness of gravity. It was there, no denying that, and it affected certain parts of a person’s life, but he hadn’t spent much time pondering it. Talking with his father gave him a glimpse of what was waiting for him, if he dared make a change in his life.

When the sun finally broke through the gray clouds, restlessness claimed Paul again. His dad had to run to town for parts, and Paul had no desire to park himself behind a windshield. He needed to be outside with the sun beating down on his back, sweat trickling between his shoulder blades.

Sasha, a buckskin mare, responded to his bribe of feed. He haltered her and got the tack ready. Thankfully Sasha possessed a patient nature because bridling and saddling her took longer than it should have. His hands fumbled with buckles and straps as he readjusted and tightened.

But when he dropped his hat on his head, pulling it low against the morning sun, and swung up into the saddle, a feeling of familiarity took over. He drew the worn reins through his bare hands, relishing the feel of soft, worn leather.

Sasha caught his mood and sidestepped as he drew the reins in, holding her back until he got his other foot settled firmly in the stirrup with the familiar and welcome creak of saddle leather.

The mare snorted, shook her head and Paul let her go. In minutes the trees of the yard dropped behind as he nudged her into a gentle canter across open fields that beckoned and called.

Paul held the reins loosely in his hand, catching the rhythm of the horse under him. An eagerness to take in the open spaces of the country flowed through him. He felt as if he could move, stretch out, as if the isolation gave him freedom to decide who he chose to be.

Sasha’s hooves pounded a steady beat up the gradual hills as the sum warmed Paul’s back and the soft breeze of the Cariboo cooled his face. After a few miles Paul drew Sasha up. She shook her head, the bridle jangling, and tried to take off again.

“You’re going to wear yourself out. Haven’t you got enough sense to see that?” Paul admonished, turning her in a circle as she crab-walked. She blew, shook her head and tried to go again. Paul turned her head, slowing her down. “Pace yourself, Sasha,” Paul said, repeating the words his father often spoke to him. As the horse settled down, he smiled. Looking up, it was as if some of what his parents spoke of hit a familiar place.

He too had been running, chasing.

Paul had chosen this time as a break, a time to ponder his future. He knew he needed to slow down. He knew his life wore him down. “Okay, Lord,” he said, threading the reins through one hand as he rested the other on his thigh. “What am I supposed to be doing?” He gazed around the rolling hills interspersed with ridges of pine, the hard blue sky painted with wisps of white. But no answer blazed out of the sky, no words appeared to tell him “buy” or “sell.”

He took another breath, knowing that to some degree the decision would have to be made by him alone. But for now he was going to procrastinate. For now he was going to just enjoy being home and being a son again.

“It’s been too long,” he said softly, looking around. He sighed as if he was getting rid of stuff left over from the city, dropping the burdens of his daily work. It would wait. It would all wait. When he’d planned this holiday he’d wondered if he could stay away three weeks. Now he didn’t know if three weeks home would be long enough.

He smiled, clucked to Sasha as they rode down a hill toward the road. It felt so good to be outside. God felt nearer already, out here in the open. The city was too much a testimony to man’s self-confidence and self-reliance. But the rolling hills, solid trees and sparkling creeks of his home testified eloquently to their Maker. And Paul felt ready to listen.

Sasha meandered along the road for a bit as Paul reacquainted himself with the lay of the land, once as familiar to him as the curve of his mother’s smile. They followed the road, and when it forked, Paul pulled Sasha’s head to one side, turning her to the right.

The road traveled upward to the Danyluk ranch. Their spread was smaller than his parents’. Higher up, against the pines, hay land was too far from the river to irrigate properly, resulting in reduced crop and income. The number of cows the Danyluks’ ran probably provided Rick, Judd and Amy with the bare essentials, but not much more. The Hendersons weathered tough times by selling hay to supplement their income when cattle prices were low. They also sent out many of the calves they raised to feeder lots, giving them a larger profit margin per animal.

The Danyluks couldn’t afford to do that. This disparity had created hard feelings on Judd’s side. Paul was always aware of that, but he and Amy shared a longer, albeit lopsided, acquaintance. He grinned as he remembered their changing relationship. Since she was a little girl of eight, she had followed him around. As he’d grown and found other girlfriends, she’d stayed faithful even though he hadn’t encouraged her. Even as a young girl she’d had an aura of purity about her, a sincerity that had made him keep his distance. Her solid and simple faith in God had made him keep her at arm’s length.

When he left for the city to find his fortune, she had slipped a note into his pocket declaring that she would never forget him and would love him forever. He’d given in and granted her a kiss, her first he was sure. He was nineteen, she was fifteen.

He came back periodically. Each visit realigned their relationship until she had changed from a quirky little sister into a friend and confidant. He suspected that she liked him for a few years after he left. She had never had a boyfriend. Until Tim.

And he had never seen her as other than a friend.

Until the engagement party.

Is that why you’re visiting her now? To see if what you felt that night is any different now?

Paul shook his head, laughing at his own fancy. He was dropping by to see how she was doing, that was all. Just a big-brotherly visit to make sure she was all right.

Sasha’s shod feet clopped carefully across the dilapidated wooden cattle guard as Paul rode up the Danyluks’ driveway. The cattle guard badly needed repair, as did the barbed-wire fence that followed the rutted road. Closer to the house a pail leaned crookedly in the grass beside a fence post, the handles of the fencing pliers sticking out of it. It looked like someone had begun the boring task of tacking up and repairing the loose wires.

The door to the shop opened, and Rick stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag. Paul waved to him and got a curt nod in return.

“Welcome to the Cariboo,” Paul muttered, as he drew his horse up to the house. He had never bothered trying to understand Rick’s antagonism. He suspected Judd had a strong influence on it. Their feelings didn’t run as strong as they used to, but there was always an underlying tension between the Henderson men and the Danyluks.

Paul dismounted, tied Sasha up and ran up the steps. He rapped on the door but heard no reply. Cariboo manners took over and he poked his head inside.

Amy sat by the table, talking on the phone, one elbow planted on the table in front of her. Her long hair hung loose, flowing over her shoulders, the light from the window beside her caressing it, gilding it with bronze highlights. Her arched eyebrows were pulled together in a frown over soft gray eyes.

Paul felt again a nudge of awareness. Again he noted the changes time had wrought—from the slightly freckle-faced pixie that trailed him as a child, to the self-conscious and awkward teenager who would blush, then turn around and hit him, to the woman who sat at the table now.

Her face had lengthened, her cheeks hollowed out, her hair slipped from a red to pale copper. She had been cute as a child, pretty as a teenager, but now had become strikingly beautiful.

Paul felt a moment’s regret that he hadn’t bothered, before this time, to stop and really notice her. All her life he had taken for granted her affection and adoration and had treated it lightly.

But now a yearning seemed to draw him to her. Maybe it was part of the need he felt to seek fulfillment from his past. Maybe he just needed to connect with one of the few friends who hadn’t moved away; a friend who still had faith in a God he had taken for granted.

Or maybe his mother was right. Maybe he was jealous.

Amy tapped the pencil on the pad of paper in front of her, her expression frustrated. Judd hollered from the living room, summoning her.

Amy covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Just wait a minute, Dad.” Wincing, she stuck her left finger in her ear and hunched over as if to listen better.

“Not until next week? We figured on that part being in town this morning.” Amy paused, glancing up. She saw Paul and blinked in surprise.

She didn’t return Paul’s smile and looked down instead.

Paul hesitated at her response, but stepped into the house anyhow. He noted with satisfaction that though the place looked decrepit on the outside, inside the house was tidy. The linoleum was worn beneath mismatched chairs, the cupboards had seen better days as had the scarred and worn table, but in spite of all that, the room was clean and neat.

Paul gave his hat a toss that landed it neatly on the rack beside the door. He pulled the bootjack out of its usual corner around the door and jerked his boots off.

“Well how much is it going to cost to have it delivered here? No, I need it right now.” Amy listened to the reply. Her shoulders sagged and she winced. “I need to make some arrangements. I’ll have to call you back.” She dropped the phone on the hook and sat back, cradling her arm and frowning at Paul.

“I thought you were gone.”

Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise at her abrupt tone. “I’ve still got seventeen days left of my holiday,” he replied evenly, trying to forget her earlier greeting, or lack thereof. He crossed the room and hooked his foot around a chair, drawing it close to the table.

“You passed me on Saturday, heading to the city.”

Paul frowned at the tone of censure in her voice, wondering why she would be antagonistic toward him. Maybe Rick and Judd had finally convinced her what a wastrel he really was. Maybe, he thought with a small measure of disappointment, maybe she had changed in other ways as well. “I just drove Stacy back. She had an emergency at work. Didn’t you see me in church on Sunday?”

Amy blinked her surprise. “No. But I didn’t see your parents, either.”

“We came late and ended up sitting in the balcony.”

Amy nodded and reached up to rub her eyes with her fingertips. Sitting across from her, Paul noticed the weary droop to her eyes.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked, concerned.

“Case IH in Vancouver. I ordered a part for the tractor. It was supposed to be in this morning but it got sidetracked with another shipment from Prince George, and Rick needs it right away.”

“Can’t you go and pick it up?”

She fidgeted with a pencil and paper on the table in front of her.

Paul reached over and, as he had done so many times in the past, affectionately stroked an uncooperative strand of hair out of her face. Even as he did so, Paul caught himself. Once she would have waited eagerly for any sign of attention, but no longer. She belonged to another, and his rights to touch and console had been abrogated.

Amy pulled back, confirming his thoughts.

She doodled a moment, biting her lip, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “I can’t because I don’t have a truck. The fuel pump went this morning. It gave me trouble when I hauled Sandover to the auction mart on my way to work, but I thought it would last for a bit yet.”

“Did you get a decent amount for the beast?”

“Enough. We got back what we paid for him so I’m happy.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

Amy frowned. “I would have liked to keep him and work with him some more. He had a lot of potential.”

“And a wicked kick,” Paul added, touching the elbow of her sore arm.

“Amy,” Judd called again from the living room.

“What?” Amy turned in her chair and winced with pain at the sudden movement.

“Nothing. If you’re too busy yapping with Henderson, don’t bother.”

Amy rolled her eyes, got up and walked to the living room, supporting her sore arm. Paul decided to face Judd head-on and followed her.

Judd Danyluk lay stretched out in a worn recliner, a pair of crutches leaning against it. The bright afghan tucked over his legs served as a sharp contrast to the cracked vinyl and thread-bare armrests. Paul had seldom been in this room. In the Cariboo most visiting was done with elbows propped on a kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee or tea.

“What’s the matter, Dad?” Amy’s voice lost its impatient edge, her hand resting lightly on his.

Judd was rubbing his eyes, frowning. “I can’t see real great. It’s like everything’s blurry.”

“How’s your heart feel? Are you having any pain going down your arm?”

“It’s my eyes, Amy, not my heart.” Judd glared up at her and blinked again. He shook his head and then frowned. “I don’t know why I can’t see so good.”

“Does it hurt?”

Judd shook his head, looking around. “No. Just feels funny.”

“You’ve got your regular checkup coming up, you can ask the doctor then.”

“I suppose.” Judd pushed himself up. “Oh, hello, Henderson.” Judd acknowledged Paul’s presence with a curt nod, then turned back to Amy. “Who were you talking to?”

“Case IH. I’m trying to straighten out a mix-up with parts.” She crossed her arms, supporting her shoulder, and frowned as she looked down at her father. Paul had to smile at the sight. As long as he could remember Amy was almost as much a mother to Judd as daughter—bullying him into helping on the ranch, making him go outside, eat properly, get out and visit other people, reminding him to do his devotions.

“And you’re not going to talk about canceling your doctor’s appointment.”

“I told you I would go.” Judd glowered at her, and Amy stared back.

“You canceled the last two.”

“I’ll go.”

“I know you will. I’m going to take you in,” Amy said as she turned and left.

Paul watched as she carefully bent over to tie her boots, heavily favoring her sore shoulder. He wanted to go and help, but figured he wouldn’t be welcomed. His ego was wounded at her offhand treatment. He didn’t know what it was he wanted from her, but he did know it wasn’t this casual attitude. Time for him to leave.

The phone rang again, and Amy straightened with a sigh.

“Do you want me to get it?” Paul offered.

She shook her head and strode over to the table. She picked up the phone, turning away from him and Judd.

Judd straightened his recliner and reached for a deck of cards beside him. “Have time for a game of crib?”

Paul didn’t really want to. It was a strange turn of events. Amy, who always listened, who always had time to talk, obviously didn’t want him here, whereas Judd, who could hardly speak a civil word to him, was inviting him to stay. The old guy must be mellowing, he thought. And Amy had outgrown him.

He turned back to Judd and pulled up a chair.

As Judd silently dealt the cards, Paul tried to ignore her as she spoke on the phone.

“You’re going to buy a car?” she exclaimed to whoever was on the other end. “How in the world can you afford it?”

Paul picked up his cards and glanced up as the porch door opened. Rick entered the kitchen, frowning.

“I might be able to drive you. Rick’s been working on our truck.” Paul saw her glance hopefully at her brother who lifted his hands in resignation. “Nope. I don’t have a vehicle,” she said, frustration edging her voice. “It would work out great. I have a tractor part to pick up in Prince George, and I know I owe you big-time but I just can’t. I’d drive the tractor if I could, but Rick’s got it in pieces all over the garage floor.”

Paul looked down at his cards, discarded two and tried to ignore Amy’s obvious distress.

“I know, Shannon, I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll let you know if anything changes. Take care.” She hung up the phone with a loud click.

He looked up in time to see her sag against the counter, her lips tight, her eyes shut. She looked like she was in pain. He couldn’t take it any longer. He set his cards down on the table and got up.

“You ain’t quitting already?” Judd accused, turning to watch as Paul strode to the kitchen.

Paul stood in front of Amy, waiting for her to notice him. She finally opened her eyes. “You can use my car, Amy.”

“No. Thanks, anyway.” She straightened and moved to get past him.

He took a step to the side, blocking her passage. “Don’t be so stubborn. You can’t do much work with that shoulder, you may as well go pick up that part, and this way I can help out Shannon as well. I owe her, too.” Paul remembered with a sudden moment’s regret, a date with Shannon Lawson over seven years ago. She had pestered him to take her to a local dance. When she got more serious than he intended the date to be, he talked Rick into taking her home. It had happened many years and a lot of girlfriends ago. She teased him about it each time he came home; her offhand treatment of the fiasco made him pass it off. But now, with too many comments from his family ringing in his ears, he felt as if he should somehow try to make up for it.

Amy bit her lip as if contemplating, glanced over at Rick, who looked as if he would sooner eat nails than allow her to accept Paul’s offer. “No I don’t think so….”

“It’s easy to drive. I’ll ride Sasha home, pick up the car and be back here in less time than it takes you to shower and change.”

“Look Paul…I can’t imagine taking that expensive car of yours around the yard, let alone all the way to Prince George.”

“I’m sure a girl who learned how to double clutch in a one-ton beater before she had her learner’s permit wouldn’t be afraid to drive my little car,” Paul insisted.

“That thing is worth more than our cows,” spluttered Amy.

Paul could tell she was starting to give in and pressed his advantage. “I’m going to sell it anyhow. If you total it, I won’t have to go through the trouble,” he continued, grinning down at Amy.

“I don’t drive that badly,” she protested.

“So you are going to drive it.”

She glanced up at him, a wry expression on her face. “I suppose…”

“I can take Shannon,” Rick put in, his expression hopeful.

“No. You’ve got to check the cows. The last thing Paul needs is a heavy-footed guy like you driving his car.” Amy ignored Rick’s sputtering and looked back at Paul sighing in resignation. “I guess I’m going.”

“Good.” He took the phone from her before she changed her mind. “What’s Shannon’s number. I’ll call her myself.”

Amy gave it to him, and as he dialed, he kept his eye on her. Her face had more color than a few moments before, and she looked a little less tense. He hoped it was because of his offer.

Shannon picked up the phone with a terse “Hello.”

“Hi, Shannon, it’s Paul.”

“Oh, you. The guy that sets all the Cariboo hearts aflutter.”

“Not really,” he said with a frown.

“Paul,” her tone was disappointed. “Is that the best you can come up with? ‘Not really.’ Or are you afraid I might nag you into taking me out again?”

“No,” Paul laughed, comforted by her breezy tone. “You’ve got better taste than that.”

“Actually I do. I’m in love with a far more interesting guy than a mere businessman.”

Paul grinned, leaning back against the table. He’d always liked Shannon. She was fun and straightforward. “So you think businessmen are boring?”

“No comment.” Shannon laughed. “You didn’t phone to listen to me pester you.”

Paul grinned then decided it was time to get back to business. “Amy will pick you up about eleven o’clock. Does that work for you?”

“Anytime would be great. Thanks….”

“Take care,” he said, hanging up the phone and turning to Amy who was still frowning.

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Amy reprimanded him. “Rick will be gone, and you won’t be able to get back home. Unless you walk.”

“Well, I don’t have a whole lot to do today, I can hang around here until Rick or you come back.”

“In case anyone’s noticed, I’m not gone yet,” Rick put in, glowering at both of them.

“Then maybe you should get gone,” Amy replied. “When you check the cows, keep an eye on the calves of 25B and 68C. They were looking a little peaked last time I checked them. You might want to take some Liquamycin and scour boluses along, just in case.”

Rick nodded, watching Paul with narrowed eyes. He slapped his gloves against his legs once, turned and left.

Amy turned to Paul with an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. Rick’s just being Rick.”

Paul said nothing, aware that the statement didn’t require an answer.

“I can’t ask you to do all this,” she said, trying once more.

“Amy, you’re not asking me to do anything.” He stifled his impatience with her insistence. “I’m offering and this is your cue to give in and say ‘Thanks Paul. Why don’t you go and get the car and I’ll be ready when you come.’ Please stop making a big deal of this.”

“Okay, but if I hit something…”

“I checked the policy before I left Vancouver. I’m fully insured against wild horses, cows, pigs, chickens—the whole farmyard and a few others besides.” He grinned at her and pushed himself away from the table. “So I’ll just put on my boots, and then I’m history.”

He gave in to an impulse and ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “See you later.” He turned and left, whistling, feeling more cheerful than he had since he’d come here.

Chapter Five

“I’m glad Paul sweet-talked you into using his car,” Shannon remarked as she slid into the sleek sports car, closed the door almost reverently and sniffed. “He never had a vehicle this nice when he lived here before.” She looked over at Amy and grinned. “Too bad the man didn’t come, too.”

“He’s taking care of my dad while I’m gone.”

“Your dad’s fine,” snorted Shannon. “He doesn’t need to be baby-sat.” Shannon frowned. “Or would that be old-man-sat? I don’t know.”

Amy shook her head at her friend’s bluntness as she carefully pulled into traffic. “Dad hasn’t been too well lately. I’m glad Paul’s staying.”

“Me, too. It gives me a chance to drive in style instead of the Greyhound.” Shannon stroked the leather of the seat, almost caressed the dashboard. “Very nice, indeed.” She turned to Amy. “I was sorry I missed the man at your engagement party. He’s been gone so long I’ve forgotten what he looked like.”

“Like he stepped off the cover of GQ.”

“Oh. Just like Tim.”

“Tim doesn’t dress anything like that,” Amy protested.

“C’mon, Amy. I’m sure the man doesn’t even own a pair of blue jeans.”

Amy frowned. “Of course he does. When we went riding a few weeks back…”

“He wore chinos.” Shannon patted her on the shoulder. “That’s okay. It’s about time someone elevated the dress code around here.”

Amy shot her friend an exasperated glance. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about Tim like you merely tolerate him. I know you like him.”

“Tim’s a wonderful guy. There’s no doubt about that. I’m still having a hard time adjusting to the change in you.”

“We’ve been going out for almost sixteen months.”

“It doesn’t seem that long. And now you’re engaged.” Shannon sighed wrinkling her nose at her friend. “Remember how we used to steal Paul’s school pictures from Tyrell’s room?”

“My dad was furious when he found them.”

“I’ll never understand why he disliked Paul so much,” Shannon said with a frown. “My mom and dad thought my crush on him was funny. Though they did warn me about chasing him too hard. Poor guy, I’ll never forget how relieved he was when he talked Rick into taking me home after our one date. I got over him pretty quick, after that.”

Amy said nothing, her mind drifting back to the time when she and Shannon, giddy eleven-year-old girls, both madly in love with Paul Henderson, would follow him around. Both knew he was unattainable, and after a while, Shannon threw away all the pictures she and Amy had scammed from Tyrell and Derk, Paul’s younger brothers. When Shannon wasn’t looking, Amy fished them out.

“What did your dad have against Paul, anyhow?” Shannon continued, breaking into Amy’s thoughts.

Amy shook her head. “He had a dislike of Hendersons period. He’s always had a hard time with the fact that they have a more successful ranch. It isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

“Well I hope he won’t chew Paul’s head off while we’re gone.” Shannon flipped down the visor, checking out her lipstick in the mirror. “So how was the engagement party?”

“It was fun. I was sorry you couldn’t make it.” Amy stepped on the brakes at the highway, almost sending both of them through the dash.

“Whoa, girl. This isn’t your one-ton,” Shannon cried, bracing herself against the dashboard.

Amy blew out a sigh as she shifted back into first as a pickup behind her let out a blast on his horn. “I knew this car would make me nervous.”

“I’ll drive it.”

Amy shook her head. “The way you drive? You’d have every Mountie from here to Prince George on your tail.”

“I’ve only had two speeding tickets.”

“In the past month.” Amy eased the car out onto the highway, ignoring the impatient driver behind her. “No wonder your boss won’t let you use the truck.”

“Drew won’t let me use the truck because he’s stingy. I’ll be so glad to be finished working for that man.”

“And then what?” Amy glanced sidelong at Shannon. “You always talk about quitting, but what else would you do?”

“Maybe I’ll throw myself at Paul Henderson’s feet again.”

“Trust me girl, Paul Henderson is a waste of time.”

“I know. But he’s so good-looking and so rich. I mean, look at the kind of car he drives.” Again Shannon ran a finger along the dashboard. “Of course I could settle for Rick,” she said quirking a grin at Amy.

“Rick’s another hard one to pin down.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like we’re always working on different projects with no time to sit and talk. I’ll be at work and he’ll be checking the cows. Or I’ll be in the garden and he’ll be running to town for parts. He’s gone every evening to Jack Dilton’s working on the truck. Not that I mind. I’m glad he likes working on the equipment. I just wish he’d be a little more enthusiastic about the other work. He’s got to settle down and figure out what he wants sooner or later.”

“Maybe you should ask him what he wants?” Shannon suggested gently.

“I have, and he always shrugs and says he likes what he’s doing.”

“Push him.”

Amy frowned. “What do you mean?” She threw her friend a sidelong glance. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

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