Ever Faithful. Carolyne Aarsen
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