Keeper of the Stars (12 page)

“But it's so much extra work for you.”

Her dad's expression changed from tired to exasperated. “Pen . . .”

She raised her hands in defeat. “Okay. I won't say anything more about it.”

“You know what I could really use?”

“What?”

“To see you having a little bit of fun. You should spend your free time with others your own age. Accept some of those invitations you get from your girlfriends. Go to a dance or a movie or just out to eat. You don't need to sit around with your old dad all the time.”

“I
like
spending time with my old dad.”

He leaned toward her, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Penny, you should get to
be
young while you
are
young.”

Go out. Have fun. Meet a nice man. Go on a date. Fall in love. Get married. Have babies.
She heard all of that in her dad's simple comment. But it felt wrong that she had those options when her brother could never do any of them. Rationally, she knew it wasn't wrong to want those things. But she couldn't reason away the feelings. They were inside of her, tangled up with grief and guilt.

With another sigh, her dad rose from his chair. “I think I'll call it a night after all.” He stepped over to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “Good night, Pen. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Sleep well.”

She listened as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. After his door closed behind him, she considered retrieving her knitting once again, then decided against it. She suddenly felt as tired as her dad had looked.

Chapter 8

P
ENNY LEANED FORWARD FOR A BETTER VIEW OF
the computer screen. “There,” she told Bill Carter, seated at the keyboard. “Click on that button.”

“That's why I couldn't figure it out.” He chuckled. “It was too easy. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem.” She straightened and turned away.

The library seemed extra quiet today. Karli Hellman was off on Fridays, Tara Welch was busy shelving books, and there were only three patrons in the building, two of whom were nestled in opposite corners of the stacks, reading books. Only the soft clatter of Bill Carter's typing on the keyboard broke the deep hush. Penny returned to the back side of the checkout counter and began sorting through the paperwork that never ended.

Sometime later, she felt the whoosh of air that announced the opening of the front entrance doors. A quick glance at her
watch told her that over half an hour had passed. She looked up to see Tess Carter leaning down to kiss her dad's cheek. Then Tess headed straight for Penny.

“Just the girl I wanted to see,” she said, smiling that unforgettable smile of hers.

Penny cocked an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.

“A bunch of us are getting together tonight to play board games at my dad's house. Totally spontaneous and last minute, and it's up to me to make sure we've got plenty of victims. Er . . . I mean guests.” She laughed at her own joke. “Will you come? Eight o'clock. I promise you'll have a good time. You'll know everybody who's there.”

“Oh, Tess, I don't know if I—”

“Please. We'd really like you to come.”

“Penny,”
she heard her dad say,
“you should get to
be
young while you
are
young.”
And maybe he was right. It had been good to return to work. It had been good to see people at the bazaar. It might be just as good to spend an evening with friends playing silly games. She drew in a slow, deep breath. “Okay. I guess I could make it.”

“Terrific!”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Nope. Not a thing. Got it covered. I've already bought enough snacks and beverages to last all night.”

All night?

Tess laughed again. “Don't look so horrified, Penny. I can't imagine anybody will last longer than midnight or one. Especially the married ones who have babysitters to pay.”

Penny released a breath.

“Okay. Gotta run.” Tess waggled her fingers in a mini wave, then in an exaggerated whisper tossed in the direction of the public computers, said, “Bye, Dad. See you later.”

By the time the doors closed behind Tess, Penny already regretted her decision to go to the Carter home. She'd never been much into board games, although when she and Brad were young, the family had been known to enjoy some rip-roaring card games. Spoons had been their mother's favorite.

I could call her and say something came up and Dad needs me at home tonight.

No. No, she couldn't say that. It wouldn't be true, and her dad would hate it if she involved him in such a lie. No, she would go to Tess's impromptu party. She'd kept too much to herself since Brad's death. Her father was right about that.

Tara Welch pushed a now-empty cart from out of the stacks. When she drew close to Penny, she said, “The returns are all shelved, Miss Cartwright.”

“Great. I'm going into my office to eat my lunch and finish writing my Christmas cards. Call if you need me.”

“Sure thing.”

Penny retrieved her sack lunch from the fridge in the break room—half of a tuna salad sandwich, a dill pickle, a low-fat yogurt, and a diet soda. It didn't take long to finish her light meal, and as soon as she was done, she got to work addressing envelopes and adding personal notes to the Christmas cards.

She'd planned to skip sending cards this year. But then Christmas greetings from friends far and near had begun to arrive. They'd collected on a side table in the living room, so many filled with words of love and encouragement, until Penny had known she couldn't ignore them any longer.

Her own words were few:
Thanks for thinking of us this Christmas
and variations on the same theme. A few times, memories of Brad and their childhood Christmases caused tears to well in her eyes and she had to stop writing while she blinked them away.

Suddenly she was glad she'd accepted Tess's invitation for tonight. Her dad was right. She needed this. For weeks the preparations for the Christmas bazaar had taken up every spare moment. Now that it was over, she had too much time on her hands, despite her work at the library. She would go tonight and play games and find reasons to laugh.

So help me, I will.

Trevor was just about to leave his apartment when his telephone rang. The sound startled him. It wasn't like a lot of people had his number. He hadn't even told his mom yet. And he doubted it was Chet calling again.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Trevor? It's Tess.”

“Tess?”

“Well, that's not very flattering.” She laughed airily.
“Tess Carter. We met last weekend at the Christmas bazaar. I didn't think you'd forget me that fast.”

“Sorry. Of course I didn't forget you. I was just surprised you had my number. The phone's new.”

“Well, that's a relief. I hate to be forgotten. And just so you know, I got your number from your landlord. Listen, a bunch of old friends are getting together tonight at my dad's house to play board games and eat junk food. Eight o'clock. We would love for you to join us.”

“I don't—”

“You already know at least two of us. Me and Penny Cartwright. And I'm sure you've met a few of the others over the last couple of weeks.”

The news that Penny would be present at the gathering gave him pause.

“Please join us, Trevor. You'll have a good time. I promise.”

He pictured Penny as he'd last seen her, rushing into her office at the library, hurrying to escape his presence. Tess Carter, on the other hand, desired his company. Why not join in? He wasn't in Kings Meadow to become a hermit.

“Okay,” he answered her. “I'll come.” He reached for a pen and the nearby notepad. “Give me your address and some directions.”

A short while later, as he drove toward the Cartwright ranch, he wondered why he hadn't been the one to call Tess during the past week. He had her number; she'd given it to him on
Saturday. She was single, pretty, and obviously interested in him. What could it hurt to see if they might hit it off?

When Trevor arrived at the ranch, the two border collies greeted him from the front porch. Just a couple of barks and a pair of wagging tails. Obviously, Fred and Ginger had accepted him into their midst, as had their master.

But will the master's daughter ever come around?
The jury was still out on that one.

He took the steps up to the porch two at a time and knocked on the door.

Rodney answered soon after. “Hey, Trevor. Step inside. I need to get my coat and gloves.” He glanced at the border collies. “Good dogs.”

Fred and Ginger went to their sheepskin beds, coiled in slow circles, and lay down with matching groans. Trevor chuckled as he stepped into the house and closed the door.

“It was good to see you at the men's study last night.” Rodney pulled on his coat and fastened the front.

“I'm glad I went, sir. First time I've ever been in a group like that.” He shrugged. “It was different, but I liked it.”

“Good. That's good.”

“Brad studied his Bible a lot. The guys and I gave him a hard time about it at first, but later on . . .” He fell silent and shrugged again.

Rodney said nothing, just watched and waited.

“He's the one who bought me that Bible I brought with me.”
Not that I opened it much until last night.

There was great patience in Rodney's eyes, a look that encouraged Trevor to say more, a look that said he was in no hurry to do anything else as long as Trevor might want to talk.

And surprisingly, he found himself wanting to say more. “Brad was different from anybody I've ever known before. I mean as a Christian. His faith . . . what he believed . . . It wasn't a Sunday kind of thing.” The comment made him think of his father. William Reynolds had gone to church some Sundays, but he'd spent the rest of the day badmouthing the sermon, the music, and the people in the pews. Even as a young boy Trevor had wondered why his father went if he hated everything that much, if it didn't somehow make him a better man for it. “If I'm going to be a Christian,” he said softly, “I want to be the kind that Brad was.”

The look that crossed Rodney's face was bittersweet. Pain and joy mingled together. Finally, in a voice hardly more than a whisper, he said, “You could not have paid my son a better compliment, Trevor. Thank you for telling me.”

Trevor nodded.

The older man must have sensed the momentary confession had come to an end. He started to pull on his gloves, and as he did so, the telephone rang. “One minute.” He held up his index finger. Then he disappeared into the kitchen.

Trevor heard another sound and felt something rub against his legs, first one shin, then the other calf. He glanced down as the cat stopped its serpentine walk between and around
his legs. She looked up at him and meowed. He tried to remember her name, but it escaped him. He was about to lean down and pick up the feline when Rodney reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Sorry about that,” he said. His gaze lowered to the cat, and a moment later he smiled. “Until you came to the ranch, Tux never took to anybody other than Brad. But she likes you. I hope you don't mind her. Not everybody likes cats.”

“They're all right, I guess. I've never had any pets of my own.”

“Never?” Rodney pulled on his work gloves.

“My dad was allergic to almost everything.”
Sometimes I thought he was allergic to me.
“After I left home, I traveled too much to have a dog or cat. I owned a horse when I was in school and had another one after moving to Nashville. But like I said, I travel too much, so I sold him to somebody who'd be able to ride him.”

They headed outside. The day was cold, the sky a brilliant blue. Sunlight sparkled off the crusty snow. Trevor was quick to put on his sunglasses. Rodney simply tugged his hat brim lower on his forehead.

Fred and Ginger ran ahead of them, slipping into the barn through the partially open doorway. Rodney paused long enough inside the barn to check on the two horses in their stalls. Then they went out the barn's back door and loaded bales of hay onto the flatbed truck before driving out to the pasture. They did it all without much in the way
of conversation. Trevor found it a comfortable silence. As if they'd been doing work like this together for years.

It made Trevor think of his father once again. They hadn't known a comfortable moment together since Trevor had been a little kid. And their relationship had worsened after he abandoned college for a career as a singer. With his father's passing, any chance of Trevor finding a way to change things between them—if he'd even wanted to—had ended too.

As he broke bales apart and tossed the feed to the cows, he let himself envy the relationship Brad had enjoyed with his dad. Similar to Trevor's father, Rodney Cartwright hadn't been overjoyed when his son left Kings Meadow, abandoning the idea of a more conventional career to live a vagabond existence as a drummer in a moderately successful country band. But Brad's choice hadn't driven father and son apart. Not even for a moment. On the contrary, it may have even drawn them closer together, according to Brad.