And surprisingly, he found himself wanting to say more. “Brad was different from anybody I’ve ever known before. I mean as a Christian. His faith . . . what he believed . . . It wasn’t a Sunday kind of thing.” The comment made him think of his father. William Reynolds had gone to church some Sundays, but he’d spent the rest of the day badmouthing the sermon, the music, and the people in the pews. Even as a young boy Trevor had wondered why his father went if he hated everything that much, if it didn’t somehow make him a better man for it. “If I’m going to be a Christian,” he said softly, “I want to be the kind that Brad was.”
The look that crossed Rodney’s face was bittersweet. Pain and joy mingled together. Finally, in a voice hardly more than a whisper, he said, “You could not have paid my son a better compliment, Trevor. Thank you for telling me.”
Trevor nodded.
The older man must have sensed the momentary confession had come to an end. He started to pull on his gloves, and as he did so, the telephone rang. “One minute.” He held up his index finger. Then he disappeared into the kitchen.
Trevor heard another sound and felt something rub against his legs, first one shin, then the other calf. He glanced down as the cat stopped its serpentine walk between and around his legs. She looked up at him and meowed. He tried to remember her name, but it escaped him. He was about to lean down and pick up the feline when Rodney reappeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Sorry about that,” he said. His gaze lowered to the cat, and a moment later he smiled. “Until you came to the ranch, Tux never took to anybody other than Brad. But she likes you. I hope you don’t mind her. Not everybody likes cats.”
“They’re all right, I guess. I’ve never had any pets of my own.”
“Never?” Rodney pulled on his work gloves.
“My dad was allergic to almost everything.” Sometimes I thought he was allergic to me. “After I left home, I traveled too much to have a dog or cat. I owned a horse when I was in school and had another one after moving to Nashville. But like I said, I travel too much, so I sold him to somebody who’d be able to ride him.”
They headed outside. The day was cold, the sky a brilliant blue. Sunlight sparkled off the crusty snow. Trevor was quick to put on his sunglasses. Rodney simply tugged his hat brim lower on his forehead.
Fred and Ginger ran ahead of them, slipping into the barn through the partially open doorway. Rodney paused long enough inside the barn to check on the two horses in their stalls. Then they went out the barn’s back door and loaded bales of hay onto the flatbed truck before driving out to the pasture. They did it all without much in the way of conversation. Trevor found it a comfortable silence. As if they’d been doing work like this together for years.
It made Trevor think of his father once again. They hadn’t known a comfortable moment together since Trevor had been a little kid. And their relationship had worsened after he abandoned college for a career as a singer. With his father’s passing, any chance of Trevor finding a way to change things between them—if he’d even wanted to—had ended too.
As he broke bales apart and tossed the feed to the cows, he let himself envy the relationship Brad had enjoyed with his dad. Similar to Trevor’s father, Rodney Cartwright hadn’t been overjoyed when his son left Kings Meadow, abandoning the idea of a more conventional career to live a vagabond existence as a drummer in a moderately successful country band. But Brad’s choice hadn’t driven father and son apart. Not even for a moment. On the contrary, it may have even drawn them closer together, according to Brad.
Trevor remembered the snatches of one-sided phone conversations he’d overheard, sometimes in the van or a car as they followed a highway across one state or another, sometimes in a motel room or while waiting for a meal to be delivered in a restaurant. Whenever Brad had spoken to his dad or about his dad, there’d been a smile on his face and in his voice.
Lucky guy.
Trevor tossed the last of the hay off the back of the vehicle, then let his gaze sweep over the black cows in the snowy fields and up the mountainsides to the blue sky above. Being here—in Kings Meadow, on this ranch—made Trevor feel a bit lucky himself. There was a . . . rightness about it. Hard to say why he felt that way, but there it was. It was almost like . . . like coming home. Which made no sense whatsoever. He might sing country music and like to ride horses, but he’d grown up in the city. He’d never lived on a ranch or been a John Denver–style country boy. And although he loved his mom, he’d never held great affection for the place where he’d grown up. Too many bad memories were attached to it.
After opening the gate again for Rodney to drive through, he got into the cab for the short trip back to the barn.
“I appreciate your help, Trevor. I want you to know that.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I like doing it?”
“Yes, I’d believe you. I’ve always enjoyed it myself. Too much not to believe you.”
Trevor heard the pleasure in the older man’s voice. “Penny said all of the cows out there are going to have calves in two or three months. She said they all give birth every year. Is that right?”
“Yes. That’s how a ranch like ours operates. We own a couple of bulls, and we also breed by artificial insemination.”
“So why aren’t there any calves out there now? You know. The older ones that were born early this year.”
Rodney stopped the truck and turned off the engine. “The calves are sold after they’re weaned. By the time they’re nine or ten months old, usually. By then their mothers are a few months away from giving birth again.”
Will I still be here when the births start to happen? As the question drifted through his mind, he realized he hoped the answer would be yes.
Chapter 9
LOCATED SOUTH OF TOWN, BILL AND DONNA CARTER’S large, two-story home overlooked the river. The great room stretched across the entire length of the house and had a wall of windows that afforded spectacular views of the rushing water below and the rugged mountains beyond. Penny had attended many social events in the Carter home over the years. Both Bill and Donna loved to entertain, and Tess, their only child, was a natural hostess. Had been from an early age.
“Come in. Come in.” Tess’s smile was warm. “I’m so glad you came.” Behind her, the sound of many voices raised in conversations drifted into the entry hall.
Even though she knew otherwise, Penny said, “I hope I’m not late.”
“No. You aren’t late. I expect a few more guests, actually. Here.” She held out a hand. “Let me take your coat.”
Penny obliged and Tess took the coat into the nearby den. When she returned, she hooked arms with Penny and escorted her down the hall to the great room. It was filled with people who stood in groups of twos and threes or more, talking, laughing. Most had beverages in hand. Some were nibbling on munchies of one kind or another. As Tess had promised, Penny knew everyone she saw. She’d grown up with the majority of them, although some had been several years ahead of her in school and some several years behind her.
The doorbell rang, and Tess released Penny’s arm. “Get yourself something to drink.” She motioned toward the far side of the room. “I’ll be right back.” Then she hurried away.
Before Penny could move, Skye and Grant Nichols greeted her. Married for two months, each glowed with newlywed love.
“What do you think?” Skye drew Penny a little deeper into the room. “Will we survive whatever Tess has in store for us tonight?”
Penny laughed softly. “I hope so.”
Grant said, “I was on my way to get something to drink for Skye and me. Can I get you anything, Penny?”
“No, thanks. I’m good for now.”
Grant walked away, his wife’s gaze following him.
“You look so happy.” Penny had worried some about her friend’s whirlwind courtship. The wedding had taken place less than four months after the couple met. But it appeared her worries had been for nothing.
“I am happy,” Skye answered. “Deliriously happy, as a matter of fact. I highly recommend the institution of marriage.”
Penny felt a slight twinge of envy. Surprising since she’d never felt an urgent need to find Mr. Right. Someday it would happen. Someday she would meet a man she would love. Someday. At the right time. In the right way. But now was not the right time. Her heart was too broken to make room for anyone to find a home there.
Movement in the entry hall drew Penny’s gaze away from Skye. Surprise replaced envy when she saw Tess and Trevor enter the great room, Tess holding his arm the same way she’d held Penny’s only minutes before.
“They make a striking couple, don’t they?” Skye whispered. “It sure didn’t take Tess long to rope in the new guy.”
A desire for the quiet of home swept over Penny, but it was too late now. She was here and here she would stay. Deep down, she even knew it was good for her to be among her friends, to do something just for fun. Still, the desire to leave was strong. She frowned. And it has nothing to do with Tess’s arm in Trevor’s.
Grant returned at that moment with Skye’s beverage, a welcome distraction. Penny quickly asked Skye a question about their Hawaiian honeymoon. Her friend was only too willing to answer, and the stories that followed took up enough time for the temptation to leave to subside.
Tess seemed in no hurry to tear herself away from Trevor’s side or to begin the game portion of the evening. She introduced him to one group of friends after another, making a slow but steady turn around the room. Thanks to the Christmas bazaar, Sunday’s church service, his part-time job, and the previous night’s Bible study, Trevor had met many of them, and even those he hadn’t met made him feel welcome.
The circle of introductions was complete when Tess and Trevor stopped before Penny Cartwright and her two friends. Not that Trevor hadn’t been aware of her presence. He’d noticed her the instant he’d stepped into the room.
Tess said, “You know Penny, I think. And this is Skye and Grant Nichols.” She hugged Trevor’s arm a little closer to her side. “Everybody, this is Trevor Reynolds.”
“We met last night.” Grant offered his hand.
With a nod, Trevor shook it, then said to Skye, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Nichols.”
“Call me Skye.” She smiled for a moment, then a look of realization filled her eyes. “Wait. Trevor Reynolds? You’re that Nashville singer. Brad was your drummer.”
He hadn’t tried to hide that fact, but neither had he broadcast it to everyone he’d met in Kings Meadow. And his past had been surprisingly easy to keep to himself from all but a very few people. He’d enjoyed the anonymity more than he’d expected. He’d liked not having to be “on” all the time. Strange, wasn’t it? He’d chased fame for such a long time without ever achieving it, at least not at the level he’d dreamed of. And now here he was, sorry when someone actually recognized his name.
“Yes,” he answered at last. “That would be me.”
Then his gaze shifted to Penny. Although she made a valiant effort not to show it, the mention of Brad and Trevor’s band had unsettled her. Or at least he was convinced that was the reason for the tension in her shoulders and the thinning of her lips.
How do we get past this?
Skye intruded on his thoughts. “We would love to hear you sing sometime.”
Penny looked brittle enough to break in two.
“Maybe sometime,” he answered, his gaze remaining on Penny.
Grant said something before drawing his wife away.
Lowering his voice, Trevor asked Penny, “Would you like me to leave? I don’t have to be here.”
“Why would she want—” Tess began, then abruptly fell silent.
Penny shook her head. “No. You needn’t leave. You’re Tess’s guest.” Her shoulders shuddered slightly as she let out a breath. “And it isn’t your fault that I react this way when someone mentions my brother. I . . . I know that.”
In that moment, Trevor felt as if he and Penny had taken a giant step forward. Not that she’d forgiven him. Not that she wanted to be friends with him. But they seemed to have made some progress since the last time they were together. At least she wasn’t fleeing his presence or wishing he would leave instead.
Still, he wasn’t going to press his luck. It was time he stopped invading her space. He glanced at Tess. “I think I’d like that Coke now.”
“Of course. The drinks are over here.” She smiled, although not as brightly as before, then drew him toward the far wall. After a few steps, she softly said, “That was awkward.”
“Sorry.”
“Is it only because you remind her of Brad?”
“Mostly.” It was a half-truth, but he didn’t feel compelled to say Penny held him responsible for what happened to her brother. Tess didn’t need to know that. It seemed a private matter.
They stopped at the fancy bar. Tess went to the opposite side and, ignoring the small refrigerator, opened the wheeled cooler that was on the floor. “Regular or diet?”
“Regular. Thanks.”
She wiped moisture from the bottle with a small towel, then handed him the beverage. “So it was your band. I should have recognized your name, I guess, but I don’t remember hearing it before last weekend.” As the last words left her mouth, her face turned red.
Trevor surprised them both by laughing. “You’re not alone, Tess, if that makes you feel any better. There are more people who have never heard of me than I care to admit.”
“So what on earth made you come here? Are you giving up your career?”
“No. Not giving it up. Just taking a break.” His gaze swept the room in search of Penny. “I needed some time off after the accident.” He saw her, standing near the fireplace.
Tess touched the back of his hand, drawing his eyes back to her. “Were you badly injured in the crash?”
This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Not here and now, and not with Tess. He settled for giving a slow shake of his head.
“I guess you came to Kings Meadow to lick your wounds,” she said softly. “Just like me after my divorce.”
He knew his smile was tight. “I suppose you’re right.”
She offered a fleeting smile of her own before stepping out from behind the bar and moving toward the wall of windows. Once there, she raised her hands and her voice. “All right, everybody. It’s time we got started. Please make your way to one of the tables set up around the room. Once everyone is seated, I’ll reveal the game to be played at each table.”
Trevor’s mother loved to play board games. She always had. Growing up, he’d been exposed to the latest craze and to classic games and to most everything in between. Chances were good, whatever table he chose, he would have an edge over the other players.
He went to the first table that had an available chair. There were six participants in all. Trevor even remembered the names of the two guys who, in the manner of lifelong friends, joked and laughed to fill the time until their hostess arrived with their board game—Monopoly.
Thanks, Mom. I’ve got this.
Only it wasn’t going to be quite that simple. The rules for this party included a kind of musical chairs. When an alarm went off after an unspecified amount of time, scores would be tallied and participants would then have to move to a different table and a different game, men moving clockwise, women moving counterclockwise. Trevor had a feeling that chaos was about to ensue.
Penny fully expected to hate the evening. She anticipated a blinding headache to develop because of the loud voices and bursts of laughter. But much to her surprise, she was wrong. She found herself invested in whatever game she played, and when she wasn’t seriously trying to beat someone, she was laughing as loudly as anyone else. The silliness was contagious. She didn’t even mind when she found herself seated opposite Trevor for the final round.
“Five minutes to go over the rules,” Tess declared. “Ready? Begin.”
The game on their table was called
Balderdash. Penny had never heard of it. The same was not true of Trevor. He made that obvious as he took the lead in explaining the rules of the game and scarcely had to look at the instruction card. It was also apparent that he was having a whale of a good time.
That was another surprise for her: the way he fit in with such ease. Most of the people in the room had been friends since grade school, yet he didn’t seem like an outsider. Maybe after all his years of moving from place to place to perform, he’d learned how to assimilate. Or maybe his ability to fit in was a performance in itself.
“Wait ’til you hear Trevor sing, Pen,” Brad’s voice whispered in her memory. “He’s good. He’s real good.”
Is he really that good?
Her brother had given her Trevor’s eponymous CD for Christmas last year, but she’d been so angry over his decision to leave Kings Meadow—and over the part Trevor Reynolds had played in that decision—that she’d never listened to it. Not even to a single track. She supposed the CD was in a drawer in the house. Maybe her dad knew where it was.
“All right,” Trevor said, bringing her back to the present. “Here we go.” He rolled the dice.
Penny tried to play well, but the ability to concentrate seemed to have vanished for good. When the alarm rang, signaling the end of the final round, Penny’s playing piece had been left woefully behind. Scorecards were collected and tallied by Tess, and then the silly dollar-store prize was awarded to none other than Trevor Reynolds. He laughed and accepted it from their hostess as if it were his first Grammy.
The words of profuse thanks were hardly out of his mouth before Tess leaned in and gave him a light peck on the cheek while holding his upper arm with both hands. It was something Penny had seen her do with others, both male and female, through the years. Often. And, for that matter, more than once tonight. It was simply part of her flirty, vivacious nature. What surprised Penny was the flash of embarrassment that swept across Trevor’s face. There and then gone. Hardly time for anyone to notice. Anyone except Penny, perhaps, and after a few minutes, even she began to wonder if she’d seen it. After all, he must be used to attractive women hanging on to him wherever he went. Country-star handsome and oozing with charisma and charm. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to him?
Keeper of the Stars Page 9
