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