Keeper of the Stars (15 page)

Penny reached behind her neck and looped her long hair into a loose knot at the nape to keep it from falling forward as she ate. She tried not to think about her appearance—ancient bathrobe, disheveled hair, and more than likely smudges of the mascara that hadn't been entirely washed away last night before going to bed. It wasn't fair that she should be put at such a disadvantage here in her own kitchen. And Trevor Reynolds sitting there, all comfortable and relaxed and looking totally rested despite remaining at the party longer and getting up earlier to help her dad.

Focusing her eyes on her plate, she ate without tasting the breakfast she chewed and swallowed.

“We're going to put up our Christmas tree and decorations today,” her dad said after a lengthy silence. “Care to join us, Trevor? You're more than welcome. Unless you have other plans.”

Penny held her breath.

“No other plans. Thanks. It's been years since I helped decorate a tree. I'd like to stay if you're sure I won't be in the way.”

She suspected Trevor glanced in her direction when he said the latter, but she refused to look up to see if she was right.

Her dad was quick to reply, “Of course you won't be in the way. The more the merrier. And besides, this is the season when folks are supposed to be drawn together. No one should be alone at Christmas.”

It isn't Christmas yet
. The thought made her feel petty.
Because it should. I am being petty.

She rose from her chair. “Thanks for the breakfast, Dad. I'm going to shower and get dressed.” Her gaze flicked to Trevor, then down to her empty plate. She picked it up, along with her table service and juice glass, and carried everything to the sink, where she left them before hurrying from the kitchen. She hoped against hope that a hot shower would put her life back into clear perspective once again.

Trevor leaned back in his chair. “I thought I was making some progress with her. I guess not. She really can't stand being around me for long.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Rodney shook his head slowly. “You can't always tell with Penny. Still waters run deep, as they say.”

Trevor didn't argue with the older man, but he was convinced he knew better in this instance. Penny blamed him for her brother's death—for becoming his friend, for enticing him away, for hiring him as his drummer, for taking him on the road, for allowing him to drive when he was tired—and she wasn't ever going to forgive him, no matter how hard he tried to change her mind. Too bad, because the truth was he liked her. He couldn't say why. It wasn't as if she'd ever been warm and welcoming around him. But that didn't seem to matter. He was drawn to her anyway.

Rodney pushed his chair back from the table. “I'll do the dishes, and then you and I can get the Christmas boxes from the garage.”

“No, sir.” Trevor stood. “Not this time. You cooked. I'll clean up. You sit there and enjoy another cup of coffee.”

Rodney smiled. “If you insist.” Then he chuckled again. “I'm nobody's fool.”

Trevor cleared the table in no time. After scraping food off the dishes into the trash can, he added dish soap to the sink before filling it with hot water.

“Good of you to do that for me,” Rodney said. “But we do have a dishwasher.” He pointed at the appliance.

“I've never minded washing dishes. Good thing since I live alone when I'm not on the road.”

“What was Brad's place like in Nashville?”

“It was a big old house that one of the other band members inherited from his grandparents. Three of the guys in the band lived there, along with a couple of other roommates.”

Rodney was silent for a short while, then, softly, he said, “Wish I'd taken a trip down there to see it and meet all of the band and get to know Nashville. He really loved it there.” Another silence. “It would have been nice to have some memories of him there, I think.”

Trevor felt the older man's pain as if it were his own, and his throat tightened with emotion.

Brad's dad continued, “It's not right, you know, your child dying first. It's every parent's worst nightmare.”

Trevor turned, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I'm sure that's true.”

“When a parent dies, there is pain and loss, but at least
there's a natural order to it. Losing a child . . .” Rodney's voice drifted into silence as he shook his head.

“I wish I could change it, sir.”

“I know, my boy. I know. But you can't. No one can. So I simply ask God for an extra portion of His grace to see me through each day.”

Trevor turned back to the sink, moistened a dishcloth, and then finished wiping the countertop. When he turned a second time, he found the older man rising from his chair, only a trace of melancholy remaining in his expression.

“Let's get those decorations moved into the house,” he said.

“I'm ready.” Trevor tossed the damp dish towel onto the counter.

It was soon apparent that the Cartwright family didn't do Christmas in a small way. There were six large plastic storage bins to be carried into the house, each of them filled to capacity with decorations.

“The tree's outside next to the garage,” Rodney said after the last bin had been brought inside. “We can—”

“I'll get it.” Trevor didn't bother to put on his coat. He wouldn't be outside all that long. He exited the house through the mudroom and made his way to the far side of the garage. Tall and thick, the tree lay on top of a pile of shoveled snow. Trevor could see that it would fill the corner in the living room where Rodney had indicated it would go.

He managed to carry the tree into the house without too much trouble, and together he and Rodney secured it into the tree stand. Then they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Beautiful tree,” Rodney said. “Even without ornaments. Our friends got it for us when they went to chop down their own tree.”

“This one isn't from the lot in town, huh?”

Rodney shook his head. “When the kids were little, my wife and I always made a day of it for the family. Going into the forest in search of the perfect tree. Coming back home and drinking hot chocolate while we decorated it. Those were such good times.”

Trevor felt a sting of envy. His childhood memories were mostly of arguments, angry words, and slamming doors. Not that his mom hadn't tried her best to make the season bright, but his father—

“This year,” Rodney continued, “well, this year neither Penny nor I had the energy to do it that way, but it still wouldn't have felt right to buy one off the lot. So we were thankful when Tom and Janet volunteered to get a tree for us while they were getting theirs.”

Trevor's father had never had much in the way of Christmas spirit. William Reynolds had been more of the bah-humbug type. He'd complained about the crass commercialization of the holiday, but he just hadn't liked to shop for gifts. As for decorating a Christmas tree—they'd had an artificial one—the man had never hung so much as one ornament on a single branch in all of the years Trevor was at home.

“Ah, here's Penny,” Rodney said, intruding once again on Trevor's wandering thoughts. “Now we can get started.”

Penny walked to her father and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before looking at the tree in the corner. “It's a beautiful tree, Dad.”

“That's what I said. Wasn't it, Trevor?”

“Yes, sir. It was.”

Rodney walked over to the entertainment center and fiddled with a few controls. Moments later, soft Christmas music came through speakers in opposite corners of the room.

“Hot chocolate now or wait awhile?” Penny asked.

Her dad answered, “Let's wait.”

In unison, father and daughter popped lids off two of the bins. Trevor grinned as he watched them pull out strings of lights and all manner of other festive decorations. His mother would have called them
doodads
and
whatnots
, and she had a great fondness for the same, especially during the Christmas season. Where his dad had been a bah-humbug type, Dorothy Reynolds—her friends called her Dot—was of the deck-the-halls variety.

But she had nothing on the Cartwrights.

“What are you smiling about?” Rodney asked.

Trevor gave his head a slow shake, then answered, “My mom. She would love this.” A wave of his arm took in the tree and all of the bins.

Rodney stood a little straighter, his eyes widening. “Well, why not ask her to come to Kings Meadow for the holidays? You're staying in town, you said, so why not have her join you?”

“There wouldn't be much room for her in my little apartment. She'd likely go stir-crazy, especially when I was at work. I don't even have a television to occupy her time.”

“Then she could stay with us.” Rodney looked toward Penny and back again. “We've got extra bedrooms, and she'd be more than welcome.”

Trevor shook his head again, even though the offer was tempting. More than tempting. His mom had sounded disappointed when they talked last night. Maybe she wouldn't come, but it might help her to be asked. “That's really nice of you, sir, but—”

“We insist. Don't we, Penny? You and your mother shouldn't be apart for Christmas.”

“She'll probably decline.” As the words left his mouth, he doubted they were true.

“Ask her anyway. And if she comes, she can make her visit as long as she likes. You can show her a bit of Idaho while she's here.”

His mom and snow. Would she enjoy being surrounded by so much white? Probably not for an extended period. His mom preferred the beach and soft, warm breezes. But she'd be okay for a few days or even a week.

“I imagine it's too early in California to call now,” Rodney pressed, “but do it as soon as you think you can. She'll have to make her flight reservations right away. Use our phone. We've got an unlimited long-distance plan.”

Trevor could see there was no point in arguing with Rodney
Cartwright. He would call his mom and see what she said to the invitation.

Penny spent the good portion of the next hour wrestling with her feelings even as she worked side by side with her dad and Trevor. It was her opinion that her dad shouldn't have invited Trevor's mother to come stay with them. The woman was a complete stranger. And besides, it would cause her dad extra work—work that he didn't need added to his days. Not to mention that if the woman stayed at the ranch, Trevor would be there even more hours than he was now.

Maybe she should have said something at the first mention of Mrs. Reynolds coming to stay over Christmas, but she'd swallowed the words, determined not to provide more evidence of her unfriendly nature. Her dad had always been Mr. Hospitality. Like Brad, their dad had a gift for welcoming people into his life. A gift Penny hadn't inherited, that was for certain.

At ten o'clock, with the living room, entry hall, and banister all decorated, Trevor excused himself and went to make the phone call to his mother.

“Pray that she'll agree to come,” her dad whispered as soon as Trevor was out of sight.

“Dad, wouldn't it be better if—”

“This is important, Penny. My heart tells me she's supposed
to be here. Maybe Trevor needs to be with her more than he lets on.”

She pressed her lips together, swallowing further objections.

“Pen. Do it for me.”

“All right, Dad.”
But I still don't think it's a good idea.

She prayed silently, as asked, but it was halfhearted at best. And if God had to choose between her prayer and her father's, she knew whose prayer would get answered. At least she didn't have to wait long. In less than ten minutes Trevor returned to the living room, wearing a soft smile.

“Well?” her dad asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

Trevor raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. “She said she'd love to come.”

“Wonderful. How soon can we expect her?”