Keeper of the Stars (10 page)

They'd traveled little more than a quarter of a mile when they saw a blue sedan parked on the side of the road, its right wheels buried up to the hubs in snow, the driver peering into the open trunk.

Penny Cartwright
, Trevor thought, recognizing the coat she wore.

“Looks like she has a flat tire,” Yuli said, slowing the truck and moving to the side of the road.

Penny heard their approach and turned around. Her blonde hair was hidden beneath a sky-blue knit cap. Her coat covered everything but the hem of her skirt, a flash of dark tights, and knee-high boots. Not all that much to see, and yet he thought she looked adorable.

Her smile revealed relief and she waved at Yuli. But when both men got out of the truck and she recognized Trevor, the smile faded. Although he knew he needed to be patient, he was tired of that reaction. Couldn't she cut him a bit of slack?

“Looks like you could use some help,” Yuli said to Penny.

“I can, yes. I'm expecting an important telephone call at the library, and I'm running late.” She waved toward the open trunk. “It's been a decade since I changed a tire. I'm not sure I know how to use the jack.”

Yuli chuckled as he turned toward Trevor. “Do you know Miss Cartwright?”

“Yes, we've met,” he answered, deciding not to add that
he'd pitched hay off the back of a truck with her the previous afternoon.

“Good. You take the truck and deliver Penny to the library. I'll meet you there as soon as I change the tire.”

Trevor didn't have to look at Penny to guess her opinion of that suggestion. “I could stay and change the tire,” he offered. “Why don't you drive—”

“No. No. Go on with you. I'll be there in no time.” Yuli stepped to Penny's side and looked into the trunk. “Everything I need is here,” he added a few moments later.

“All right. You're the boss.” Trevor's gaze shifted to Penny. “Let's go, then. Don't want you to miss that important phone call.”

It frustrated him, her continued reluctance to have anything to do with him, but he did his best not to let it show. He'd hoped that the time they'd spent together yesterday would ease some of her dislike for him. Couldn't she give him a chance to prove he wasn't a bad guy?

With a curt nod, she opened the door of her car and retrieved her purse and a briefcase. A steady
ding ding ding
let everyone know the keys were in the ignition. She closed the car door, silencing the sound. Then she walked toward the passenger's side of the truck. Trevor sprang into action, beating her there in time to open the door and offer her a hand up.

“I can manage,” she said, ignoring his offer of help. She tossed purse and briefcase onto the seat ahead of her and proved her point as she climbed into the high cab with surprising ease.

Of all the men in Kings Meadow who could have come down the road at this hour of the morning, why did it have to be Trevor Reynolds—in the truck with Yuli Elorrieta—who'd stopped to render aid?

“Are you late to open the library?” he asked, starting the truck's engine.

“No. Karli, my assistant, will be there already. She comes early on Mondays.” She turned her gaze from him to the road ahead. She could at least be glad that the flat tire had happened only minutes away from the library.

Trevor didn't try to force a conversation between them, and they drove the rest of the way to the library in silence. But instead of pulling up to the front of the building and dropping her off, as she'd expected, he parked the truck and turned off the engine. As he opened his door, he said, “I figure I might as well get a look inside while I wait for Yuli. And it wouldn't hurt for me to get a library card while I'm here.”

He was like a bur stuck in a horse's mane. So difficult to be rid of. And so irritating while it remained, tangling the hair the way it seemed he tangled her life.

With a sigh, Penny got out of the truck and led the way to the entrance of the Kings Meadow District Library. Trevor reached for the door before she could, opening it and allowing her to go through first. She started toward her office, but as much as she wanted to give him the cold shoulder
once again, she felt compelled to stop and look back at him. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Trevor.”

She released another sigh. “Thank you, Trevor. I'm grateful for the lift.”

“Yuli did the cold, hard work.” He punctuated the words with one of his slow grins.

For a second, she felt unable to think, let alone move.

“So where do I go to get a library card?” he asked.

She managed to point toward Karli behind the counter.

“Thanks. I'll see you later.” He walked away.

She remained where she was for a few moments. Then she felt her face grow hot—and she didn't even know the reason for it. Ducking her head, she hurried into her office and closed the door.

Why do I let him get under my skin?

She went to her desk chair and sank onto it.

Penny Cartwright was not a woman who swooned over handsome men like some silly secondary character in a Regency romance. Looks had never been the first thing that drew her attention to members of the opposite sex, not even as a teenager. She responded to intelligence, to rational left-brain thinkers. And if that kind of man was someone with a ten-year plan for both his professional and personal lives, all the better.

So why was it that just looking at Trevor made her heart run a little faster? What was it about his smile that made her stomach whirl in an oddly enjoyable fashion?

She didn't even
like
him, for pity's sake! He was a second-rate country singer. If he was first rate, he'd have been playing bigger venues. She would have heard his voice on the radio. Right? Worse still, musicians like him were vagabonds. Definitely not people who kept a ten-year plan. And besides, he hadn't finished college. She knew that from Brad. Maybe Trevor hadn't been able to hack academics. How bright could he be, living the way he did?

But he doesn't seem unintelligent, does he?

Rising from the chair with a groan of frustration, she shrugged out of her coat and carried it to the coat tree in the corner near the door. Her knit scarf she poked into the right sleeve of her coat. Her gloves went into a pocket.

The phone rang as she was returning to her desk.

“Penelope Cartwright,” she answered in an all-business voice, grateful for anything that would turn her mind from unwelcome thoughts about an even more unwelcome singer from Nashville.

Half an hour later, Penny placed the handset in its cradle and rose from her chair. The call had been productive, but her head was swirling with new information and a slew of ideas for how to implement them in their library. A cup of hot coffee was in order, the stronger the better. She left her office and hurried toward the back of the building. A woman on a mission, as her mom used to say.

Karli Hellman—a friend since junior high and the only
other full-time employee of the library—was turning away from the coffeemaker as Penny entered the break room. “Great minds,” she said, lifting her full mug a little higher.

“I know.” Penny retrieved her own oversized mug from the cupboard.

“Mr. Elorrieta came in and left your car keys. I knew you were still on the phone, so I stuck them in the far right-hand drawer behind the counter.”

“Thanks.” Penny poured coffee into her mug.

“And I helped Mr. Reynolds get his library card. He seems nice.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you know him well?”

Penny turned toward Karli. “No, not well.”

“Ah.” Disappointment laced the single word. “I thought, since you came in together . . .” Karli let the comment drift into silence.

“He was a . . . Mr. Reynolds was a friend of Brad's.”

“Oh, Penny. I'm sorry.” Karli's expression changed from curious to stricken. “I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known.”

“It's okay, Karli.”

“No, it isn't. I see how much it hurts whenever anybody talks about your brother.” Karli stepped away from the break room counter. “I'd better get out front.”

Penny nodded, glad to put an end to their conversation.

She was aware, of course, that many of her friends and neighbors had taken to walking on eggshells around her. She could tell they didn't want to mention Brad for fear of
upsetting her. They saw her as fragile, breakable. But she would disagree with them if they said it to her face. She grieved, but she wasn't weak. And besides, it wasn't fair to Brad's memory never to speak of him. He was beloved by many. He should be remembered. Remembered often.

A lump formed in her throat.

Maybe I am a
little
fragile
.

Trevor's image intruded on her thoughts.

Perhaps I've been a little unfair to him as well. Maybe he wasn't entirely at fault for what happened to Brad.

Maybe so . . . but she wasn't ready to admit it yet.

Seated in his easy chair, Rodney awakened with a start, uncertain how long he'd been asleep. He believed in power naps, but he didn't hold with drifting off to sleep while upright in his chair. It usually left him with a crick in his neck and a grumpy humor.

But he didn't give thought to any stiffness or mood this time. He'd been dreaming of Brad. One of those dreams that felt real. A dream that didn't slip away too quickly to remember. He could recall it all. His son had been seated on the top rail of the pasture fence, boot heels hooked on a lower rail, a long piece of straw held between his teeth. The sun had been shining. The grass had been green.

Rodney had walked to him, overjoyed by his presence.
“When did you get home?”
he'd asked.

Brad had smiled as he removed the straw from his mouth.
“Not long. I brought Trevor with me. He's got a good start, Dad. He's trying to change the way he thinks, the way he lives. But you need to help him the rest of the way.”

“Be glad to, son.”
Rodney had nodded.
“Be glad to.”

Rodney rose from his easy chair and walked to the window in the kitchen, looking out at the fence and the pasture that had been in his dream. He couldn't say whether or not God had given him a vision or if the dream had only been helping him realize something his subconscious already knew. Whichever it was, Rodney was convinced that God was going to do a work in all of their lives. From out of the ashes He would bring beauty. And it would begin with Rodney loving Trevor the same way he'd loved his son.

“Lord, that young man thinks he's here to help me and Penny in some way,” he whispered. “Maybe so. Maybe that's part of it. But I think it's just as much about us helping him. Helping him know You better. Helping him know what it means to be part of a loving family. Helping him find his way in his new faith. Show me how I'm to make all that come to pass.” He took a breath and released it. “Amen.”

Brad

2008

B
RAD
'
S BORDER COLLIE
, Q
UEENIE, HAD HER FIRST
litter of puppies on Christmas Eve. The family's usual holiday routine, upon returning from the candlelight service at church, was completely forgotten as Brad, Penny, and their dad observed the birth from the hall outside the laundry room. Any one of them was ready to step in if the dog appeared to be in distress, but the first-time mother took labor and delivery in stride, giving birth to a half dozen healthy puppies without complaint.

“Look at this one,” Penny said now as she cradled one of the newborns in the palms of her hands. “It has a lot of brown on its face. Kind of a ginger-brown shade.”

Brad couldn't remember a time when the Cartwrights hadn't owned at least two border collies, sometimes as many
as four. All of their ranch dogs had been black with varying degrees of white markings. There'd never been one with brown markings anywhere in the mix.