Keeper of the Stars (14 page)

Penny fully expected to hate the evening. She anticipated a blinding headache to develop because of the loud voices and bursts of laughter. But much to her surprise, she was wrong. She found herself invested in whatever game she played, and when she wasn't seriously trying to beat someone, she was laughing as loudly as anyone else. The silliness was contagious. She didn't even mind when she found herself seated opposite Trevor for the final round.

“Five minutes to go over the rules,” Tess declared. “Ready? Begin.”

The game on their table was called Balderdash. Penny had never heard of it. The same was not true of Trevor. He made that obvious as he took the lead in explaining the rules of the game and scarcely had to look at the instruction card. It was also apparent that he was having a whale of a good time.

That was another surprise for her: the way he fit in with such ease. Most of the people in the room had been friends since grade school, yet he didn't seem like an outsider. Maybe
after all his years of moving from place to place to perform, he'd learned how to assimilate. Or maybe his ability to fit in was a performance in itself.

“Wait 'til you hear Trevor sing, Pen,”
Brad's voice whispered in her memory.
“He's good. He's
real
good.”

Is he
really
that good?

Her brother had given her Trevor's eponymous CD for Christmas last year, but she'd been so angry over his decision to leave Kings Meadow—and over the part Trevor Reynolds had played in that decision—that she'd never listened to it. Not even to a single track. She supposed the CD was in a drawer in the house. Maybe her dad knew where it was.

“All right,” Trevor said, bringing her back to the present. “Here we go.” He rolled the dice.

Penny tried to play well, but the ability to concentrate seemed to have vanished for good. When the alarm rang, signaling the end of the final round, Penny's playing piece had been left woefully behind. Scorecards were collected and tallied by Tess, and then the silly dollar-store prize was awarded to none other than Trevor Reynolds. He laughed and accepted it from their hostess as if it were his first Grammy.

The words of profuse thanks were hardly out of his mouth before Tess leaned in and gave him a light peck on the cheek while holding his upper arm with both hands. It was something Penny had seen her do with others, both male and female, through the years. Often. And, for that matter, more than once tonight. It was simply part of her flirty, vivacious nature. What surprised Penny was the flash of embarrassment
that swept across Trevor's face. There and then gone. Hardly time for anyone to notice. Anyone except Penny, perhaps, and after a few minutes, even she began to wonder if she'd seen it. After all, he must be used to attractive women hanging on to him wherever he went. Country-star handsome and oozing with charisma and charm. What woman wouldn't be attracted to him?

Even me?

Oh, how she despised that thought. And it wasn't true. She wasn't attracted to him. Not in the least.

Still, despite everything, Penny had to admit Trevor was . . . likable, and his very likability was making it hard to continue hating him, blaming him.

“Excuse me,” she whispered to the others at the table. Then she rose and slipped unnoticed from the room, making a hasty departure.

She would have to ask Tess's forgiveness later.

Trevor's telephone started to ring just as he turned the key in the lock of his front door. He tossed his hat onto the sofa on his way to answer it. Given the lateness of the hour, he was sure he knew who would be on the other end.

“Hello.”

“Trevor, dear.” As suspected, it was his mom. “I was so glad to learn you have a phone again. I hated feeling out of touch.”

He shucked out of his coat and dropped it onto the sofa next to his hat. “What's up? Nothing's wrong, is it?”

“No, dear. Nothing's wrong. But I did want to ask if you are certain you won't be home for Christmas. Because if you can come, I want to make plans around your visit.”

They'd had this discussion a few times already. “Not this year, Mom. I need to stay put. I'm not sure I understand why myself, but I feel like I
need
to be here. At least for a time.”

“I wish I could help,” she said, almost too softly to hear. Then, a little louder, “Whatever it is you're going through, I wish I could help.”

“You've always been there for me, Mom. Always.”

“Not always, Trevor. Not in every way I needed to be. And I'm so sorry.”

“Mom—”

“We both know that's true.”

He wished he could reach through the phone lines and give her a hug. He knew she blamed herself for not being more of a buffer between him and his father when Trevor had still been a boy. He'd tried to tell her that he understood, that it was all right, that he could deal with the memories, but she couldn't seem to believe him. Maybe because it wasn't entirely true. “I love you, Mom. Do you know that?”

“Yes.” She paused a moment. “Yes, of course I know. And I love you.”

“How about you and I take a little trip for Mother's Day? Maybe to Catalina Island.”

“That would be lovely.”

He heard what she didn't say: that Mother's Day was far, far off and she missed him now. Was it possible that he was wrong about where he was supposed to be for Christmas? Maybe it wasn't God who wanted him in Kings Meadow. After all, what did he know about hearing from God?

His mom put on a brave voice. “Well, tell me more about Kings Meadow and what you've been doing since we last talked. Were you out having fun this evening?”

Trevor smiled as he leaned back on the sofa, settling in for a lengthy chat.

Brad

2009

K
INGS
M
EADOW USUALLY ESCAPED THE WORST OF
summer heat, surrounded as it was by mountains. But this year the month of July had already broken high-temperature records for ten days running. Which was why Brad, his sister—home from college on summer break—and a bunch of their friends were trying to escape the heat at a favorite swimming hole. The oval-shaped pond was fed by a clear, cold-running creek, the water tumbling down out of the mountains, then in turn emptying into the river a quarter mile below.

A few years ago, a rope and tire had been hung from an ancient tree, perfect for swinging over the pond and dropping into the water, hopefully making a big splash that would catch sunbathers unaware. On his turn, Brad planned to aim his spray at Penny and her boyfriend from Boise, Curt
Lansing. Neither Penny nor Curt had been swimming yet. Instead, they'd spent all of their time sitting on large beach towels, heads close together—talking, smiling, laughing.

Brad stepped onto the tire with one foot and grabbed hold of the rope between two large knots. Then he pushed off with the other foot, swinging out over the deepest part of the pond. He let go, and as he plummeted toward the water, he grabbed his knees to his chest to form a cannonball. He hit the water just right. He'd done this often enough to know the direction of the spray.

Breaking the surface, he swirled toward Penny. She and Curt were standing now, shaking the water off their hair like wet dogs. Penny caught Brad's gaze, and for a second or two she looked genuinely angry. But then she started to laugh.

Penny never had been able to stay angry with her little brother for long. Brad had figured that out when he was still a kid, and if he was honest, he'd taken advantage of it on more than one occasion. He missed getting to tease her and play practical jokes on her when she was away at college. But maybe that made it all the more fun once she was home for the summer.

He swam to the side of the pond near his sister and pulled himself out of the water onto the ledge, still grinning. “Oops. Sorry, Pen.”

“Sure you are. Pest.”

He shrugged as he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Penny responded by snapping a towel at him, missing his arm by no more than an inch.

He feigned a glower. “Oh, you would've been in so much trouble, big sister.”

She laughed again, dropped the towel, and then dove into the water, swimming with strong arms toward the opposite side. Curt followed right behind.

The guy had it bad for Penny, no two ways about it. But Brad knew his sister wouldn't let things go too far. She wouldn't let herself fall in love until she'd graduated. Maybe not until Brad had graduated from college too.

She'd been after him all summer about deciding what he wanted to do after he finished high school, where he wanted to go to college, what he wanted to study. His best subjects had always been math and science, and Penny thought he should become an engineer of one kind or another. It was a practical career, she said. He could make a good living at it.

He didn't have the heart to tell her he would much rather study music. In fact, if he didn't have to think of anybody but himself, he would skip college altogether and become part of a band—the sooner, the better. But his dad and sister both placed a premium on higher education. He wouldn't do anything to disappoint them if he could help it.

Only someday he was going to follow his dream. Someday he would have to, no matter what.

Chapter 10

P
ENNY AWAKENED THE NEXT MORNING FEELING
grumpy and out of sorts, more tired than when her head hit the pillow. Her dreams had left her unsettled, although in the light of day she couldn't recall the particulars. The illuminated digits of the clock on the nightstand said it was nearly eight o'clock. It was a rare thing that she slept this late, even on her days off. She'd always been an early riser. Even as a toddler, according to her dad.

She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Warm air pumped through the floor vent to chase the chill of winter from the room, and the scent of coffee wafted under the door, making it impossible for her to linger any longer under the down comforter. After tossing aside the covers, she reached for her robe at the same time she put her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers. She knotted the belt around her waist as she headed out of the room.

“Dad?” she called when she reached the top of the stairs.

“In the kitchen.”

“Sorry I slept in. I hope you waited for me to feed the cows.”

Her dad appeared in the kitchen doorway and watched her descent. “No worries. They're already taken care of.”

“Dad . . .” She drew out the word in a gentle scold.

“I didn't do it alone. Trevor helped.”

She felt her heart skitter. “Trevor was here this morning?”

“Bright and early.” Her dad turned back into the kitchen. “I'm about to scramble some eggs. How many do you want?”

“Just one.” She stepped through the doorway and stopped.

Her dad stood at the stove, the eggs on the counter to his right, butter beginning to sizzle in the skillet before him. Trevor sat at the breakfast table, holding a mug of coffee while reading the weekly local newspaper. He looked totally at ease, totally at home. Wishing she'd taken a moment to brush her tousled hair, Penny pinched the top of her robe together.

Trevor looked up. “Good morning.” His jaw was dark with the stubble of a beard. A good look on him, as it so happened.

“Morning,” she mumbled as she headed for the coffee.

“You left awful fast last night. Tess looked all over for you.”

“I . . . I had a headache.” It wasn't a total fabrication. “I thought it was better to slip out and not disturb the fun.”

“Sorry about the headache. It did get loud. But it quieted down after the games were over and people settled down a bit.”

Her dad whipped raw eggs in a bowl with a fork. “Sounds like everybody had a good time.”

“Turned out to be more fun than I expected,” Trevor answered. “I'm glad I went.” He met Penny's gaze again. “What about you? Did you have fun, despite the headache?”

“Yes,” she said with reluctance, not wanting to admit it to herself, let alone to him. “I did.”

Trevor closed the newspaper, folded it in half, then in half again. “I've traveled a lot over the years. Been in a lot of cities and towns. Sometimes for long stretches, mostly for short. But I don't think I've been anywhere that the folks have made me feel as welcome as I've felt here.”

With one exception.
Guilt pierced her
. Me. I've done my best to make you feel very unwelcome.

She tried to see that same accusation in his eyes. She wanted him to accuse her of being unfriendly—because it was true. But she couldn't see it. He wasn't accusing her of anything.

Her dad said, “Sit down, Pen. These eggs are just about ready.”

Obediently, she carried her mug of coffee to the table and sat opposite Trevor. The table had already been set for three, and she suspected Trevor had had a hand in that too. A minute later her dad set a platter of eggs and another of buttered toast in the middle of the table, followed soon after by a pitcher of orange juice. Her father joined them at the table, and after he said a brief blessing, he handed the platter of eggs to her and the platter of toast to Trevor. No one spoke as they put food on their plates.