Love Is Patient and A Heart's Refuge (29 page)

But Becky just smiled back in spite of everything and picked up her notebook. Once again Rick had put her in a self-defeating position.

The night sky was endless.

If he looked at the scattered stars long enough, he could get lost, sucked into the vast depths of a universe unmeasured and incomprehensible by man’s tiny mind.

Better to stay grounded here, lying on the plain, hard dirt. Rick sighed lightly, tucking his hands behind his head, tracing the constellations in the sky as the point of a rock dug into his hip.

God’s creation.

He could still hear Becky’s exuberant voice challenging him not to believe in God when His hand was so evident.

It wasn’t that Rick didn’t believe in God. He just wished he could understand Him a little better. Could feel like he, Rick, deserved to be a part of God’s community.

A sliver of light streaked silently across the sky and Rick smiled, wishing Becky could have seen it. She would have expressed the appropriate awe instead of
figuring out the purpose of pieces of rock burning up through the atmosphere.

Maybe he needed to stop critiquing and listen more. Maybe he needed to go looking for God, instead of waiting for his questions to be answered.

Rick yawned and pushed himself off the ground, glancing once more at the vast sky above him. Fragments of a Bible verse came back to him.

“When I consider the heavens…the works of Your hands…what is man that Thou art mindful of Him…”

What indeed?

Rick swung the saddle on his horse, his gaze sweeping the campsite as he did. How easily he found her. Like his internal radar had an automatic “Becky” setting.

She was washing up the dishes from breakfast in the central opening of camp, chatting and laughing with the two women helping her. She wore her hair up this morning, emphasizing the delicate bone structure of her face. At that moment she looked up and found him. A tentative smile edged her lips but then she glanced away again.

All morning she had kept her distance from him and he had respected it, but all morning he found himself hearing only her voice above other voices. Seeing only her face.

His horse nudged his shoulder with his head, as if pulling his attention to the job at hand. Rick laughed to himself and bent down to bring the cinch up and around. With a few flips of the latigo he had it on enough to hold it for now. He would tighten it before they left.

Becky was gone.

Which was just as well. He did have work to do.

He loaded up his camera and walked around. He already had seven rolls’ worth of pictures, but he wanted to make sure he had captured the obvious enthusiasm the people had for this trip.

It was his last opportunity. When the group headed out farther up the valley, he and Becky and their guide would return to the ranch.

He wanted to stay here, in this place away from the office, away from the stress and pressures of the magazine and its relentless deadlines.

He wanted to go back to the creek and sit with Becky and talk to her. Try to capture her optimistic faith, her enthusiasm for life. She was the first woman he had met who wasn’t afraid to stand up to him and who could make him laugh—sometimes both at the same time.

She was the first woman who could steal his breath with one look.

Rick tried to reason his way past his growing attraction to her. But nothing fit his usual reasons. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, she was fun. Yes, she could laugh.

She had depth, a grounding in her personal life and in her religious life. She wasn’t afraid to talk about her faith. Nor to challenge him to take a second look at his own lack. She had an utter confidence in who she was.

It drew him on even as it frightened him away.

He walked around the string of packhorses, seeing it through the lens of his camera as the wranglers weighed the boxes, balanced the loads and hung them on the animals.

A few flies buzzed around in the cool morning air. The horses blew and stomped their hooves, as if anxious to be off, while the men threw tarps over their packs. Then they lashed them down, wrapping the ropes in an intricate pattern, working in a harmony that looked like a dance.

“You want to learn how to throw a diamond?”

Rick lowered his camera and glanced sidelong at Trevor who stood beside him, holding a length of soft rope.

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He didn’t need to prove himself. Then he caught the faint challenge in Trevor’s eyes.

“That would be interesting.” Rick covered his camera up and took it off his neck, looking for a place to set it.

“I’ll take it.” Becky was beside him, her hand held out. “If you can trust me with it.” Her smile was like a light, drawing him on.

Suddenly the day was brighter.

“I don’t know.” He smiled back, picking up her infectious humor. “You tried to drown it yesterday.”

Becky pressed one hand on her heart. “I promise I will treat it with the respect your constant companion deserves.”

“You’re sounding a little disrespectful right now,” he said, letting go of the camera.

“And you are a suspicious man.” Mischief glinted in her eyes, and he had to laugh.

“And you always have to have the last word.”

“This is really cute, but the horses are waiting,” Trevor broke in, sounding impatient.

“Lead the way,” Rick said, not responding to Becky’s saucy wink.

In spite of his pique, Trevor was a patient teacher. Rick gained a new appreciation of the science of packing horses as he learned to balance the weight of the load and lay down the ropes over the tarp.

“You want the tension of the rope spread evenly over the whole pack,” Trevor explained as he stood beside Rick, showing him how to tighten the ropes. “The horse feels more comfortable and that makes him less likely to go ballistic in the middle of a bog. A well tied pack saves you from fishin’ instant-porridge packages out the water.”

“Sounds like a good incentive.”

“So all you need to do is tighten ’er up.” Trevor made a motion to the wrangler on the other side of the packhorse and Rick followed his rhythm as they took turns pulling on the rope.

Trevor showed Rick how to tie the knot and the job was done.

“Hey, boys, how about a smile?” Becky called out.

Rick looked up just in time to see Becky’s face obscured by the camera.

“Don’t waste film, Becky,” he called out, holding up his hand.

“Too late. This is the fourth picture.” Becky lowered the camera, grinning at the two of them. “And now the film is full.”

She handed him the camera with a wink, spun on her heel and walked away. And Rick’s gaze followed her every step.

Half an hour later, the group mounted up and Rick shot some final pictures as the group left them, waving and laughing. Before he became publisher of a magazine, he could have simply mounted up and followed them, making decisions on the fly. But now he had obligations waiting.

Hopefully only a few more months and that would be over, as well. But as he turned around, he saw Becky sitting on her horse, waiting for him to accompany her and the wrangler who was to guide them back. Back to responsibilities and decisions that dragged him down and pinned him here.

He felt as if he stood at a pivotal point—his past moving away from him deeper into the mountains—his future represented by Becky and the magazine.

It frightened him. For the first time in his life he didn’t know which called him stronger.

He swung onto his horse and without waiting for Becky, he urged it on down the path. Back to the ranch and back to Okotoks.

But as he rode, Becky’s presence hovered behind him, an allure that battled with his desire for freedom. He stayed ahead of her, as if trying to outrun it.

“R
ick back yet?” Becky leaned on the divider, hoping her voice sounded more nonchalant than she felt.

Trixie glanced up from her computer and slowly shook her head. “Sorry, babe. All I got was a call on Tuesday night at home saying he was going to be gone a few days.” Trixie’s eyes were full of sympathy and Becky knew, with a sinking heart, that her attraction to Rick was growing more obvious.

“Okay. I suppose he’ll call if he has anything to tell me.” Becky gave Trixie a tight smile, scooped up her mail and walked down the hall. Her steps slowed as she passed Rick’s office. The door was closed as it had been for the past two days.

They had made good time coming back down the valley. Rick had been in the lead and set a brisk pace. Once in a while he would stop to take pictures, but even then he didn’t speak to her. Becky gave up trying to catch up. When they got back to the ranch he had his
horse unsaddled and the tack taken care of before she had barely dismounted. He was gone while she was still walking her horse. The next day she had come to the office early, hoping to talk to him.

All that was waiting for her was a cryptic note in Rick’s bold handwriting lying on her desk.

“Gone for a few days. Be back day after tomorrow.”

As she dropped into her seat she looked out the window, her gaze drawn to the ridge of mountains on the horizon, as if she could find the answer to Rick’s elusive behavior there. Resting her chin on her hands, she let her mind wander back to those few magical days they had spent together. Correction, one day. What had happened the second day still bewildered her. It had started out so promising. Then, when it was time for them to go back, the very act of turning around had shifted his attention away from her.

She could still see him, leaning forward in the saddle, as if moving toward something. Or away from her?

Her fingers brushed her lips, reliving his kiss. A kiss that had buried itself deep in her heart. The kiss that had sent her heart soaring, her mind following.

He’s going.

Reality knifed through the soft daydreams she had spun. How could she be so foolish?

Her eyes drifted closed, her heart reaching out to the one secure love in her life.

Oh, Lord, am I attaching too much importance to one simple gesture? Should I have stopped him?

But even as she prayed, she felt his hand on her
cheek, saw his head bent over her feet, felt his hands rubbing warmth back into them.

She pressed her hand to her heart as if to hold it steady. Keep it captive. Because to give it to Rick was to open herself to pain and heartbreak. Yet how could she ignore the surge of her heart whenever she saw him? The tangible connection she felt whenever they spoke?

She had never felt this way around a man. Was she so shallow as to fall for someone whose smile lit up his whole face? Whose eyes delved deep into her soul?

She yanked open the drawer beside her and pulled out her Bible, seeking comfort from the familiar words. As her fingers flipped through the pages she stopped at Psalm 52, drawing the words into her heart, allowing them to take root.

“But I am like a healthy olive tree. My roots are deep in the house of God. I trust in Your faithful love forever and ever.”

The words reminded her that she was first and foremost a child of God. That she was grounded in His unfailing love and salvation. He was always faithful, always there, always loving.

Forgive me, Lord,
she prayed. She closed her eyes and drew in a long slow breath.

Then jumped when she felt a hand drop on her shoulder. She jerked her head up and started inwardly when she looked into Rick’s face. A ghost of a smile drifted over his lips, and his eyes softened as he looked down on her.

Relax. Breathe.

“Hey, there,” he said, his voice washing over her like rain on parched ground. “How are you?”

Remember what you just read. You are a child of God. Rooted and grounded in Him.

“I’m doing fine.”

As if sensing the detachment in her voice, he removed his hand. “Did you get my note? Sorry I didn’t phone.”

“I’m not your boss. Or your keeper.” The words were harsh, but it was too late to retract or rephrase.

Let it lie. Better if you create some distance.

Rick took a step back, surprise creeping over his face. He moved around to the front of her desk and stood there as if waiting for something more.

Becky pressed her lips together, holding back the questions begging to be let out. Where were you? Why did you run away? Why didn’t you call?

One kiss, a few glances exchanged did not give her any rights.

“Have you had a chance to work on the article for the trail ride?” he asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans in a gesture of retreat.

“I’ve been run off my feet, but I did have a chance to rough it out. I can print out what I have if you want to have a look at it.”

So casual. So cold and unfeeling. It was as if that moment at the creek had never even happened. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head. “There’s no rush. Whenever you’re ready. I’ve got the pictures on it already.” He paused a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then turned and left.

The click of the door resounded through the quiet of Becky’s office and in spite of her self-talk, all her good
intentions, the harshness of that sound cut her to the core.

And for once she was thankful for the relentless deadlines of her work that kept her tired mind busy and distracted from the confusion Rick posed.

She stifled a tired yawn and went back to work.

He should have called her. Rick knew that now. But when he jumped into his Jeep that evening, the only thing on his mind was running. Leaving. Finding some breathing room. He didn’t
have
to meet with that marketing advisor in Calgary. Nor did he
have
to head up to Edmonton to get some quotes from a printing company.

Becky had given him much to think about and he needed time to sort it out. Find a place for it in his life. Figure out what to do with it.

He dropped into his chair, spun it around so it faced the window. He then lifted his feet to rest on the low sill. All he could see from this position were the mountains where he had just spent two days that had spun his world around, rearranged all his plans and expectations.

One kiss. That was all they had shared but that was all it took to make him realize that Becky had become integral to his life.

And that was what made him run. She represented security. Stability. Numbing routine.

God.

Rick closed his eyes a moment, remembering her passion when she talked about Creation. And once again what she said spoke to a deeper part of him. He knew God existed. He knew God was there.

It was easy to believe in God around Becky. Harder when he was on his own. All the accusations he had hurled at God when he was alone in his bedroom, wishing that he still had his mother, came hurtling back. Surely God didn’t want to have anything to do with someone who was angry with Him?

How can you not believe in a God who allows so much good?

Rick hadn’t been able to erase those words from his mind. They spun, whirled and at the same time comforted. Against his will, Becky was showing him a different side of God. A side he never saw in his grandfather.

So what do I do now, Lord? I’m allowed to ask You the hard questions. So why do You allow suffering? Why do You let people be lonely and hurt?

He waited, listening.

Nothing. Not surprising.

With a heavy sigh, he half turned, grabbing the envelope of pictures off the desk. He had just gotten them developed. A lot of magazines used digital cameras, but he preferred the clarity of analog.

He opened the envelope, pulled out the pictures and started flipping through them. Ranch house. Outbuildings. More buildings. Trevor in full cowboy mode.

Becky.

He stopped, lifting the picture to get a better look.

She was looking at him, a light frown crinkling her forehead. In the next picture she was smiling.

He set them aside and flipped quickly through the rest. The lighting had been perfect, showing the moun
tains in all their glory. Some of the pictures could almost be called cliché mountain shots, but he had managed to zoom in and isolate some of the views, creating a different look.

They would look great in the magazine.

There’s no way you can believe this just happened.
As Becky’s challenge to him strayed into his mind, he turned to the next picture. And his heart quickened.

Becky astride a horse, framed against an achingly blue sky, the mountains a mere backdrop to her beauty. The wind had lifted her hair from her face so that it framed her delicate features in an aureole of auburn. She was smiling—a full-featured Becky smile that came from deep within her.

Rick leaned back, touching Becky’s face with one finger as if trying to resurrect her, resurrect the emotions that had arced between them that moment at the creek, at her father’s orchard.

He should have told her where he’d been the past few days, but that would mean telling her why he had run off. Which would mean delving into reasons that frightened and exhilarated him at the same time.

Reasons that involved Becky and feelings that had changed from simple acknowledgment of her good looks, to admiration for her spunk and ability to stand up to him, to respect for her deep faith to something deeper and unidentifiable.

Something that trembled at the edge of his consciousness, luring him into a place he had never been before.

A place that was a curious combination of love and faith.

He flipped through the rest of the pictures, sorting them out into their various groupings. Scenery. People. Horses.

Becky.

Becky doing dishes. Becky laughing and chatting with a group of people. Becky wading in the creek, her teeth clenched against the cold.

Becky warning him not to take the picture he was now looking at.

He turned around and propped the picture against his telephone, remembering what had followed that moment. How she had touched his heart in so many ways.

So what next?

He knew he messed up when he took off without telling her, and now she was ticked off.

Might be better that way. They would slowly move away from each other, keeping their relationship purely professional, and when it was time for him to leave there would be no hard feelings.

So why did the thought leave an empty ache in his heart?

The light knock at the door was a welcome intrusion to thoughts that spun, unresolved. Trixie put her head around the corner. “Mr. McElroy to see you about the advertorial you were going to put in an upcoming issue?”

And Rick was dropped back into the turning around of a magazine. His ticket out of this town.

“I thought the focus of the article was the business aspect.” Rick tapped his pen against his chin as he skimmed over the pages Becky had given him. She had
dropped the article on his desk late last night, with a brief note asking for his input.

So now he was giving it and she didn’t look pleased.

“I thought I brought in enough of the business angle, by maintaining the history of the ranch and how it got to the current owners and their involvement in the community.”

“I think they were looking for a heavier slant.”

Becky’s sigh clearly telegraphed to him that she was going to dig in her heels. And to his own surprise, he was looking forward to what she had to say. Anytime they’d struggled over articles, they’d found a compromise which, surprisingly, made for a stronger article than either of them would have written alone.

“We were invited by Triple Bar J to go riding in the mountains, Rick, surrounded by God’s wonderful and amazing creation. Unless they’re paying to do the entire article, I think we better stick with more of a story slant to the article.”

Becky slouched back in her chair, her arms folded over her chest, staring blankly at the window behind him with her head against the back of the chair. She looked totally disinterested.

He didn’t have to be literate to read her body language.

With a sinking heart he realized they were back to where they had started the very first day he had met her here in Nelson’s office. For a moment he was tempted to pull out the picture of her that he had gotten enlarged, just to remind himself that there was another time and another place when she had smiled at him. When she had kissed him.

He blinked the thoughts away, dragging his attention back to the article. “It’s not an advertorial, but they did invite us free of charge. Besides, every event can be slanted in a certain way to highlight the things you want to say. In this case you might want to focus on who is involved in the trail ride and what brings them there. Who they are and what businesses they represent.”

He didn’t look up, preferring to look at her words rather than her face. Easier to read what he wanted into the black-and-white medium of paper and ink. She didn’t say anything so he continued.

“Your descriptions are evocative. You have a way with words.” What she had given him had a wonderful flow that he didn’t want to break up, yet he knew he had to emphasize the business aspect of the company. That was his focus for
Going West.

He tapped the paper with his pen, thinking, trying to find a compromise that would work for either of them, surprised she hadn’t challenged him again.

“I suppose we could work the business aspect into a sidebar. Expand on it there without losing the integrity of what you’ve written. What do you think?”

He waited for her comment on this concession and when none came, he looked up.

She was asleep.

Rick rested his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, watching her. Allowing himself this moment to let his eyes pass over her face, to remember her smile.

Her head drifted to one side, then jerked.

Staying in the chair would give her a horrible crick in her neck, but he didn’t want to wake her up.