Keeper of the Stars (3 page)

The waitress returned with his drink. “Are you ready to order?”

He hadn't looked at the menu yet, but a quick glance found something that would do. He pointed to it, chose the two sides that came with the meal, then handed her the menu. “Thanks.”

She gave him another of her ready smiles before walking away, and for a split second he considered asking her what time her shift ended. But no. Pretty girls weren't why he'd come to Kings Meadow. He was here to keep a promise to a dying friend—and hopefully straighten out his life in the process.

Penny turned the dead bolt in the entrance door of the library. Then she leaned her forehead against the cold glass,
closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath. Some days it felt as if she had to force herself to breathe, force herself to go on living.

Stop it! Stop it now!

Stiffening her spine, she turned away from the door and walked to the office behind the checkout counter, where she retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. A glance at the clock on the wall told her she was running late. Dad would have dinner waiting for her.

Maybe I shouldn't have returned to work this soon
.

Perhaps not. But she had no choice. Not really. She'd used up all of her paid time off—both bereavement and vacation time—and she and Dad needed her paycheck. Their finances had already been stretched thin by the staggering cost of an unexpected funeral—

No. Stop. Don't think about it.

Lifting her head and straightening her shoulders, she left the office, turning off the light as she passed through the doorway. She went to the back door of the library, where she switched off all but the security lights that softly illumined the building whenever the library was closed. Then she went outside, locking the door behind her.

Blowing snow stung Penny's cheeks as she hurried to her parked car. She started the engine to let it warm—wouldn't it be wonderful to have one of those cars that started with a press of a button on a key fob?—then grabbed the scraper so she could clean the snow and frost off her windshield. Trying not to let her teeth chatter, she worked as fast as possible,
making a complete circle around the vehicle. At last she slipped behind the wheel with a breathy, “Ooooh.”

The drive to the Cartwright ranch took about twenty minutes on the snow-packed roads. It wasn't a big spread—not like the Leonard operation at the north end of the valley—but it was big enough to fulfill her dad's boyhood dream of being a cattle rancher. Most years he turned a small profit from the sale of his calves. He earned the rest of his income from the work he did as a carpenter. Good enough in the summer. Scarce in the winter months. And these days, due to some health issues, he struggled with his daily chores.

Penny's return to Kings Meadow after getting her master's degree was supposed to have been temporary. Only until Brad graduated from college. Her brother could have worked as an engineer in Boise with an easy commute to and from the ranch. Their dad would have had the help he needed, and Brad would have had a career he could have grown in. That had been the plan. But since when did life go as planned?
Temporary
had become four years, and here she was, living at home at the age of twenty-eight. The best thing to come out of her return to Kings Meadow was her job as the director of the district library. Anywhere else, she wouldn't have had a prayer of such a position. Too young, they would have said. Too little experience. They would have been right on both counts. But this was Kings Meadow, where she was known, where her father was known. And besides, there hadn't been an abundance of applicants for the position.

She should be thankful for it. She
was
thankful for it. If only she didn't feel so unhappy, reminded at every turn of the loved ones who were gone forever. If only . . .

Lights from the house twinkled at her in the darkness. She slowed the car as she approached the driveway. The tires slid a little, but with four-wheel drive she was able to pull out of the slide and make the turn safely. The hard-packed snow beneath the tires bumped her around until she reached the concrete floor of the garage. Fresh snow fell in earnest as she hurried toward the front door.

Inside the house, she called, “Dad, I'm home.”

He poked his head out of the kitchen. “Good timing. Food's ready to go on the table.”

“Give me a second to change and wash up, and I'll be right there.”

“Is it still snowing?”

Halfway up the stairs, she answered, “Yes. Looks like the storm will last awhile.”

In her room, Penny changed out of her work clothes and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a sky-blue cable-knit sweater. Her shoes she replaced with sheepskin-lined slippers, appropriate for the winter weather. Then she went into the bathroom, where she freed her hair from the clasp that kept it away from her face while at work, followed by a quick wash of her hands.

When she entered the dining room a few minutes later, her dad was setting a casserole dish in the center of the table. Shepherd's pie. Again. It was her father's go-to recipe when
he couldn't think of anything else to make. She rounded the table and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for cooking dinner on the nights I work late.”

“I'm glad to do it, Pen. You shouldn't have to work all day and then come home to cook supper when all I'd be doing is sitting around, waiting for you.”

She wanted to ask if his back was better today, but he despised the question. Her dad still did a lot of work around the place, even when the pain was bad.

If only her brother had come home . . .

“Let's eat,” her dad said.

Penny took her usual spot at the table and averted her eyes from the two empty chairs. She tried to look only at the serving dishes and at her father. Anywhere else was rife with emotional danger.

Her dad said the blessing before sliding the casserole dish closer to her. “Careful. It's hot.”

She stuck the serving spoon into the meat-and-vegetable dish and scooped out a small serving.

“You need to eat more than that, Penny.”

“This is plenty, Dad. Honest.”

“Not enough to keep a bird alive.”

Missing tugged at Penny's heart. How often had her mom said those very same words to her?

“How was it to be back at the library?”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “How was your day?”

“Okay,” he answered with the smallest of smiles.

What a pair of liars we are
.

Penny brought a bite of the casserole to her mouth, blew on it, and then ate it. Her taste buds tried to tell her the food had flavor, but it still seemed bland on her tongue. Somehow she managed to swallow and take the next bite.

“It'll get better, Pen.”

She kept her gaze on her plate. “It's good.”

“I wasn't talking about the food.”

Tears welled.
I know
, she mouthed, looking up at last.

She'd learned that going through the grief process took as long as it took. Not one day more or one day less. And it was different for each person. There were no quick fixes, no magic words to make the pain of missing go away any faster.

The difference this time—between when she'd lost her mom and when she'd lost her brother—was the anger. Tears weren't enough for her. Grief wasn't enough. A broken heart wasn't enough. Bitter anger had formed a knot in her gut—a knot that showed no signs of easing. She was angry with Brad for being so foolish, for not returning to Kings Meadow when he was supposed to. Angry with Trevor Reynolds for enticing Brad to live a life on the road, for making her brother forget that he was the kind of person who kept his promises. And, if she was honest, angry with God for taking away another member of her family.

Some days it felt as if the anger would eat her up from the inside out.

Some days she wished it would.

That night, while seated in the large, overstuffed chair in the corner of his bedroom, Rodney closed his eyes. Before his wife passed away, the couple had been in the habit of praying together in this same corner before retiring. There had been two chairs back then. Now there was need for only one, and even after a dozen years he missed the feel of Charlotte's hand in his as they prayed at the end of a day.

He drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “How do I help her, Lord?”

Even before Brad's death Rodney had been concerned for his daughter. Penny seemed to have forgotten how to enjoy life. She worried over him. She worried over money. She worried over what tomorrow would bring. And now she was angry too. She tried not to let him see it, but she never succeeded.

“What happened to my bright, shiny Penny?” he whispered.

In his mind he saw the laughing, happy, confident child she had been. Riding beside him in the truck, chattering away about what had happened that day at school. Showing her little brother how to skip rocks across the surface of the river. Camping in the mountains with the family. She'd been fearless back then, perhaps because she'd had such trust in God. That trust seemed to have been snuffed out on the night her brother died.

His heart ached at the thought. For as long as he lived he would miss his son, the same way he continued to miss his wife. But there was comfort in knowing Brad had loved the Lord and was with Him now.

“ ‘But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren,' ” he quoted aloud, “ ‘about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.' ”

Penny needs hope, Lord. She needs Your hope. Show me how to help her find it.

Chapter 2

J
UDGING BY THE SNOW ON
T
REVOR
'
S TRUCK
,
A GOOD
eight to ten inches of the white stuff had fallen overnight. But this morning the sky was a cloudless blue, and the reflection off the snow almost blinded him before he put on his sunglasses. A California boy, born and raised, Trevor appreciated the beauty of the frosty wonderland all around him, but he wasn't fond of the cold that came with it, or the slick roads. And from the look of things, he could be in for a very long winter with plenty of all three.

If I'm here that long
.

He shook off the thought. He wouldn't be of much use to himself or anyone else if he started wondering when he'd get out of here. He'd made a hasty promise to Brad Cartwright. He wasn't sure he'd meant to keep it. In fact, after his disastrous first trip to Kings Meadow for the funeral, he'd tried to forget ever making the promise to come to Idaho, to spend
time with Brad's family. Brad hadn't actually said he needed Trevor to help his family, but with all the things the guy had shared, he figured that was the reason. And since he didn't know how to help, why keep the promise? But again and again over the past weeks, he'd imagined himself on the side of the road, holding Brad, telling him he'd be okay. And every time he'd imagined it, he'd remembered the promise. He couldn't shake free of it.

So here he was at last, a stranger in a hole-in-the-wall town, hoping to do something for two people he didn't know who would probably hate the sight of him.

A broom leaned against the wall inside the carport. Later he planned to ask his landlord if he could park in the empty space. For now, he grabbed the broom and went to work, sweeping the snow off the front windshield and hood of his truck. Next he got the scraper and made quick work of the frost that had formed on the glass.

The drive to the Merc on Main Street—the town's one and only grocery store—took no time at all. Judging by the empty parking lot, he was the only customer at this time on a weekday morning. Or maybe it was the fresh blanket of snow that had kept shoppers at home. He parked close to the entrance and went inside.

A woman behind a checkout stand greeted him with a friendly, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he returned with a nod.

“You need any help finding something, you let me know.”