Keeper of the Stars (8 page)

“Dad . . .”

He frowned. “I'm not in my dotage, Penny. Please don't treat me as if I am. And I don't need you to act like my mother either.” The look in her eyes said he'd hurt her feelings, and he regretted his words, even though he'd spoken the truth. “Sorry, honey, but I can still think for myself.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, hoping the gesture might soften his added comment.

I know
, she mouthed as he stepped back again. Then she gave him a fleeting smile before walking away.

His daughter was worried about him. And not just about him. Penny seemed to worry about everything. She tried her best to command the events around her, fighting hard to
never lose control. Rodney had seen signs of the trait after the death of her mother, but it had worsened in recent years. And after Brad died . . .

He gave his head a shake, driving off the thought. If he wasn't careful, he would find himself doing exactly what Penny did. Instead of worrying, he chose to say another silent prayer, this one for his daughter, asking God to heal her heart.

“Merry Christmas, Rodney.”

He looked to his right and watched Joe Dodson, the contractor he'd worked for off and on for many years, close the final steps between them. “Same to you, Joe. Haven't seen you around much. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. And you?” The man's eyes said it was more than a casual question, more than an inquiry about the state of his health.

“I'm all right, Joe. Some days are better than others, but I'm doing all right.”

“Glad to hear it.” Joe looked away at the sound of someone calling his name. “Looks like Sue's done shopping.” His gaze returned to Rodney. “I'm wrapping up a job down in Boise. When it's done, I'll give you a call.”

Rodney nodded before his friend hurried after his wife. Then, resolute, he faced the candy booth once again. It wouldn't be the Christmas season without at least one square of Edna's fudge, and he sure hoped he wasn't too late to get it.

Hours later, Penny dropped onto a folding chair, exhausted. “Over for another year,” she said to herself, then groaned.

“Everything ran like clockwork, Penny.” Janet Dunn sat on another folding chair nearby. “You have amazing organizational skills.”

“Must be the librarian in me.” Penny was too tired to laugh at her own comment.

“You could be right about that.” Janet looked toward the opposite end of the fellowship hall. A tender smile curved her mouth and her face shone with love.

Penny didn't have to look to know the cause. The Reverend Tom Butler and Janet—both of them in their forties and never married—had recently become engaged.
About time too
. They had been dating for around two years, and anybody with eyes had known, long before this, that they belonged together.

“Have you and Tom decided on a wedding date?”

Janet looked at her again, smiling. “Am I that obvious?”

Penny managed to laugh this time. “Yes.”

“Well, to answer your question, no.” Janet shook her head. “We haven't decided yet. But we're considering Valentine's Day.”

“Romantic. Can you plan a wedding that fast?”

“We can. It won't be anything fancy. Just family and a few close friends.”

Penny nodded. That's what she would want, when she found the right guy.
I hope it doesn't take me until I'm forty
.

She was immediately ashamed of herself for the thought.

Janet rose. “I'd better go see if Tom needs any help.”

Forty wasn't old, Penny reminded herself. And even if it
was, it would be better to wait until forty than to rush into marriage with the wrong person.

That made her think again of Tess Carter's hasty, ill-fated marriage. Which—against her will—brought her thoughts back around to Trevor. Had he and Tess hit it off? They must have. Tess had stayed beside him the entire time he shopped. Not that Penny had paid attention to that particular detail. But as she'd moved about the room, she couldn't help but notice them together, both of them tall, both of them smiling, both of them attractive.

Attractive? Trevor Reynolds?

Well, yes. She had to admit—again against her will—that he was a handsome man. Even more so than in the photograph on his album cover, Stetson covering his dark hair, a Western scene behind him, that smile of his—

“Give him a chance,”
Brad had said to her the last time they spoke on the phone.
“Once you meet him in person you're gonna understand why I love working with him. He already likes you, I've talked about you so much.”

Her heart pinched at the memory.

And that was Trevor's fault too. If he hadn't come to Kings Meadow, if he would have stayed far, far away from her brother to begin with . . .

Just leave. Just go away. Please go away.

Chapter 5

T
REVOR CONSIDERED ATTENDING THE
M
ETHODIST
service his first Sunday in Kings Meadow. He'd learned Rodney and Penny were members there. It would have guaranteed his seeing them at least once each week. But at the last minute he chose to attend Meadow Fellowship, a nondenominational church on the west side of town. Something inside of him said his Sundays needed to be more about him and God and less about him and the Cartwrights.

By the time the service ended, Trevor knew this would be the church he attended as long as he was in Kings Meadow. Nobody had to tell him that his Christianity—if he'd even been a Christian—had been a superficial thing. Knowing Brad had slowly made him aware of the difference between calling himself a Christian and truly being one. Maybe that was one reason he'd kept his promise to Brad. Maybe it was here that his faith, such as it was, could grow.

Trevor had met quite a few members of the congregation at the Christmas bazaar the previous day, and it surprised him how many of their names he remembered. Living a life on the road, he'd rarely seen anybody two days in a row, other than the members of his band. He found he liked this fledgling sense of community.

He received three invitations to Sunday dinner before he exited through the church doorway. He declined each of them. It would be rude to eat and then rush off in order to be to the Cartwright ranch by two o'clock. So he returned to his studio apartment, where he warmed up some leftovers. He tried not to think about what he might have been eating if he'd accepted one of those invitations.

When he next looked outside, two o'clock drawing closer, the blue skies from early that morning were gone. The wind had begun to whistle around the corners of his apartment. A strong gust rattled the windows. He left his Stetson on the hook by the door and reached for the knit cap and scarf his aunt had made for him a couple of years back. Still, he wasn't prepared for the extreme drop in temperature that had happened while he was inside.

The streets of Kings Meadow were extra quiet on this Sunday afternoon, and as far as he could tell, only a few stores were open along Main Street. At least no Christmas shoppers were in sight when he stopped at the stop sign. All he heard was the mournful wind and the rumble of his truck's engine. Loneliness wound around his heart, and he realized that despite how friendly people had been to him at church
that morning, he wasn't a part of that community—or a part of any other community. By his own choice, he'd kept himself from forming close relationships through the years. Brad Cartwright had been one of the few people who had found a way through Trevor's defenses.

He turned his truck east and drove beyond the limits of town. Snow began to fall when he was about halfway to the ranch. Tiny flakes, carried sideways by the wind, obscured his view and forced him to go even slower, afraid he might miss the turn. But he didn't miss it. Despite the snowstorm, the way felt familiar to him.

Arriving at the ranch, he parked in front of the house, got out of the pickup, and hurried up the steps to the front porch. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door was opened a short while later by Penny. Her expression was one of grudging resignation. She didn't want him in her home, but because of her father she wouldn't turn him away.

Did I think I could win her forgiveness in a matter of days?

Yes, in some ways, he supposed that was what he'd thought. Most women believed he had charm to spare. Plenty found him good looking and talented and fun to be around. But none of that mattered one iota to Penny Cartwright. It was clear as day. In her cool blue eyes. In the stern line of her mouth. In her rigid stance.

“Come in, Mr. Reynolds,” she said, frost in her voice. “Dad's waiting for you.”

He wanted to remind her to call him Trevor, but he swallowed the words as he stepped into the house while removing
his knit hat. Penny closed the door and then silently held out her hands to take his coat after he'd shrugged out of it. She placed it on the coat tree and his hat and scarf on a nearby table.

Her dad appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Trevor, glad to see you could make it. How are the roads?”

“Not bad.”

“Care for something warm to drink before we brave the elements?”

“Sure.”

“Coffee okay?”

Trevor nodded.

The older man waved him forward before turning and moving out of sight. Trevor followed, thinking to himself that Rodney was like his son in many ways. Brad had had an affable, hospitable nature too. No one had been a stranger to him. At least, not for very long. He'd had true empathy for those around him, no matter who they were. And when Brad had spoken of his family back in Kings Meadow, his love for his dad and sister had been obvious.

By comparison, Trevor's relationship with his father had always been troubled, cold, and distant. After he left for Nashville, on those rare occasions when he'd spoken with his father by phone, there had always come a moment when his father would ask, “When are you going to get a real job? When are you going to make something of yourself?”

His father had passed away a number of years ago, but the memory of those questions remained a pinprick to Trevor's
heart. With practiced resolve, he pushed the thoughts away and let his gaze roam the room, looking for something to keep his thoughts from returning to those uncomfortable memories.

The kitchen in the Cartwright home was large and airy. The breakfast nook had bay windows that looked out on a fenced pasture where several horses stood, backs to the wind and snow. While Rodney filled two large mugs with coffee, Trevor crossed to a curio cabinet in one corner. Behind the glass were family photos, china and crystal, knicknacks, and a large collection of thimbles.

“The thimbles belonged to my wife, Charlotte.” Rodney stopped on Trevor's left. “Some of them are rather valuable, but I can't bring myself to sell them. She enjoyed them so much.” He held out the mug of coffee.

Trevor took it. “My mom collects those lighted villages.”

“Where do your parents live?”

“A small town in Northern California. But it's just my mom now. My father died a few years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Trevor accepted the words of condolence with a nod.

After that, the two men stood in silence as they drank their coffee.

Penny held her breath, listening from the hallway, but neither her dad nor his guest said anything more. Fearing she might
get caught eavesdropping as they left the kitchen, she quietly moved to the living room, where she stopped and stared out the window at the snowstorm.

She didn't like the feeling that coiled in her stomach, and it wasn't difficult to identify it: jealousy. Like her brother before him, her dad had taken a quick liking to Trevor Reynolds, and she didn't want him to. They were acting like friends. Didn't her dad understand that Trevor had taken Brad from them?

“Honey?”

She turned toward her dad's voice.

“Trevor's going with me to feed the livestock. Want to come along?”