Читать книгу Ever Faithful - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 11

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.