Ever Faithful

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.