Keeper of the Stars (16 page)

“She'll check flights right away. If there's a seat available, she'll probably come next weekend.”

Her dad beamed with undeniable pleasure.

If it makes him that happy, I shouldn't begrudge him. I won't begrudge him. So help me, I won't. I will welcome Mrs. Reynolds—and her son—into this home . . . even if it kills me.

That evening, Trevor sat on the sofa in his apartment, the only light in the room coming from above the stove. The hours he'd spent at the Cartwright ranch had been filled with good spirits and laughter. He'd felt a part of something he'd
never been part of before. By comparison, his apartment was empty and silent.

He reached for his guitar. After a few moments, he strummed a few chords. Song titles drifted through his head, popular songs that he'd covered through the years, but none of them enticed him to play and sing the way they should have, the way they used to. Nothing until the title of his mom's favorite hymn came to him. With barely a conscious thought, he changed chords and began to softly sing, “Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

A kind of hunger swelled in his heart in response to the words. Words he'd heard many times before. Words he'd memorized. And yet they felt new. Alive with a meaning he hadn't understood before.

“'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”

He remembered Brad, the way the young man's faith had seemed to shine through him, like sunlight through a stained-glass window. Emotions choked his throat. His fingers lowered from the strings of the guitar, plunging the room into silence.

“God,” he whispered, “I want a faith like Brad's. I don't want to be the guy I've been for so long. I'm trying to straighten out my life, but I don't think I can do it on my own. I want what You want for me. Not just a taste of it. Not just until I like myself better. Help me.”

The apartment was still as dark as it had been minutes ago. It was still silent. But now it didn't feel as empty. He didn't feel so alone.

He was a novice at this kind of stuff, but he believed he'd just received an answer to prayer.

Brad

2010

“Y
OU
'
RE THE FOURTH CALLER
. C
AN YOU NAME THE
artist and the year the song hit number one?”

Brad's heart was beating so loud in his chest he could hardly hear himself think. “Brooks and Dunn. And the year was . . . 2005.”

“That's right. We've got a winner. Hold on, young man, and we'll get some more information from you.”

While music played through the telephone, Brad stared at his best friend, Charlie Regal.
I won
, he mouthed in disbelief.

He'd never won anything before in his life. Not anything like this, anyway. Tickets for four to a three-day outdoor country music festival to be held that coming summer in Utah. Meeting the artists, T-shirts, and more.

When Brad was finally off the phone, he and Charlie
raced up the stairs to the laptop computer in his bedroom. In no time at all, he pulled up the website for the music festival and scrolled through the list of artists. There were a couple of major names among them. The others he would have to check out.

“Can you believe it, Charlie? We're gonna get to see these guys in person. We're gonna get to meet them.”

“We?”

“Are you kidding?” He punched his friend in the arm. “Of course you're going with me. You and two others.”

“Your dad and Penny.”

Brad shrugged. “I don't know. It isn't Dad's kind of thing. And besides, he'll say he hates to ask someone to take care of the livestock while he's away for several days. Penny might be interested. She likes country music. I'm just not sure she would want three days and nights of it.”

“You think our folks will let just four of us guys go? You know, without a parent along.”

“Sure. Why not? We're seventeen. I'll almost be eighteen. We'll all be seniors.”

“You know my mom,” Charlie said with a shake of his head.

Yeah, Brad knew Mrs. Regal. She'd always been on the overprotective side. Charlie griped about it often, and Brad thought he had good reason to complain. His own dad was strict, but he gave Brad freedom. Enough freedom even to make mistakes he could learn from.

He laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder. “We'll ask a couple
of older friends then. And we've got four months to work on her. By the time of the festival, she'll be glad to have you out of her hair.”

They laughed and then both turned their eyes back to the laptop screen.

August was never going to get here fast enough.

Chapter 11

B
ETWEEN GOING TO THE
C
ARTWRIGHT RANCH ONCE
or twice every day to help feed the cattle, working part time, going to church on Sunday and again for the men's Bible study on Thursday, plus twice meeting Tess Carter—at her invitation—at The Friendly Bean, a quaint little coffee shop a half block away from Main Street, the next week seemed to fly by. Before he knew it, it was time for him to drive down to Boise to meet his mom at the airport.

Trevor had last seen her in early October. After his trip to Kings Meadow for Brad's funeral—ill-fated as that had been—Trevor had returned to his boyhood home in California for a couple of weeks. The visit had been good for them both. He'd needed to be away from Nashville, his bandmates, and all reminders of the young man who had lost his life. His mom had needed reassurance that he was okay,
that the injuries he'd sustained in the accident were minor and mending.

Even so, it had surprised Trevor how quickly his mom accepted the invitation to come to Idaho for Christmas. Belatedly, he'd realized she wasn't as all right with him not coming home for Christmas as she'd tried to make him believe. It shamed him. He should have known her real feelings, even if she'd hidden them from him.

He couldn't have asked for a better day for her to see Idaho for the first time. The sky was cloudless, a crystal-blue expanse, sunlight glinting off the snowy landscape. The highway was clear and dry, no ice or snowpack to make his mom nervous on the return trip. The temperature in Kings Meadow was supposed to hit forty by midafternoon. Still too cold for his mom, but better than it might have been and still could be before her visit was over.

He drove to the airport without any trouble, thanks to a somewhat foggy memory from his trip in September and to the GPS on his phone. He appreciated the latter the most. It was nice to have cellular service again, even if it was only for a few hours.

At the airport he parked his truck, checked his watch, and headed into the terminal to await his mom. Inside, he looked at the arrival board. His mom's plane was on time. Maybe ten minutes until it was scheduled to land. He took a seat in the waiting area outside the security exit and amused himself with people watching.

There was a young mother with two little boys, the oldest
perhaps four, struggling to keep both of them nearby when what they wanted most was to run and squeal. Trevor felt her exhaustion from twenty feet away.

There was a group of teenagers, a mix of boys and girls, all of them holding signs, welcoming home someone named Jacob.

There was a middle-aged man in a business suit, seated in the same row of chairs as Trevor, who never looked up from his phone as he answered e-mails or texts or both, one right after another.

There were a couple of tall, beanpole-thin cowboys—brothers by the look of them—complete with tight jeans, dusty boots, and well-worn hats. One of them had a handlebar mustache, perhaps trying to look older than he was. Trevor wouldn't have been surprised if they had horses tied up outside the terminal. He grinned at the thought.

A flood of passengers started to come through the automatic doors. Trevor rose from the chair and checked the arrival board again. According to it, his mom's plane hadn't landed yet, so he resumed his seat and watched as the cowboys welcomed an elderly woman whom he guessed to be their grandmother. The joy on all of their faces caused Trevor to smile again. Then an eruption of voices drew his eyes to a soldier in fatigues whose name was obviously Jacob. The girls in his welcoming committee were grinning and crying at the same time.

There was a lull in exiting passengers, and then another
steady stream began. This time the arrival board told Trevor that his mother's plane had landed. In expectation, he stepped out of the waiting area where he could more easily see and be seen. He didn't have long to wait. Over the heads of others he recognized his mom's dark brown hair that she'd worn in the same style from as far back as he could remember. He raised his arm and waved to get her attention. A minute later he held her in a warm embrace.

“Glad you came, Mom.”

“I'm glad you asked.” She laid the fingertips of one hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes. “You look good.”

“Feel good too.” He took the small carry-on bag from her hand. “Come on. Let's get your suitcase.”

They took the escalator to the ground level and made their way to the luggage carousels. After finding the correct one for his mother's airline, they joined the other passengers gathered around it.

“Did you bring a warm coat?” Trevor asked. “Something more than that sweater you've got on.”

“I have a jacket in my carry-on.”

“You're going to need more than that. It'll likely get below zero while you're here. We'd better stop at a store and get you something before we leave Boise.”

His mom smiled. “Whatever you think's best.”

A light on the carousel started to flash and an alarm sounded. Then the machinery started to move. Moments later, the first bag came into view.

“What am I looking for?” Trevor asked.

“A red hard-side suitcase with yellow ribbons on the handles. A large one. You can't miss it.”

While they watched and waited, his mother chatted about people he knew from the old neighborhood, ending after several minutes with, “Mrs. Thurgood finally got her new hip last week. And did I tell you Mort Levine got married again?”

“No. You're kidding. Isn't Mr. Levine about a hundred years old?”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Watch it, you. Mort's only five years older than me.” Then she pointed toward the carousel. “There it is. That's mine.”

She'd been right. He couldn't have missed it. It was a blaze of color in a sea of black bags. It made him grin and remember all over again why he loved her so much.

Penny put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, added soap to the dispenser, and started the wash cycle. A glance at the kitchen clock told her that Trevor and his mom should arrive soon.

Anxiety—despite not having any reason to be anxious—tightened her belly. It had been like that ever since she'd known they were to have Trevor's mom as a guest for ten days. Ten days! It meant Trevor would be at the ranch even more often than usual. Plus it seemed like an interminably long time to be saddled with a complete stranger.

Doesn't the Bible have something to say about making strangers welcome?
She winced at the thought.
I'm sorry. I don't want an inhospitable nature. God, can You change that?

Her dad was the definition of hospitable. “This is going to be a good thing, Penny,” he'd said more than once over the last week. “You'll see.”

Well, there was no disputing that last part. She would
see
whether or not it was a good thing because there was no escaping it now.

“Penny,” her dad called from the living room. “They're here.” By the time she reached the entry hall, her dad already had on his coat and was putting on his hat. “Hurry up, slowpoke.” He grinned as he reached for the doorknob.

When Penny stepped outside moments later, she saw Trevor rounding the front of his truck to open the passenger door. After helping his mother to the ground, he held on to the crook of her arm while escorting her through the hard-packed snow to the steps and up to the porch.