Ever Faithful

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.”