Even me?
Oh, how she despised that thought. And it wasn’t true. She wasn’t attracted to him. Not in the least.
Still, despite everything, Penny had to admit Trevor was . . . likable, and his very likability was making it hard to continue hating him, blaming him.
“Excuse me,” she whispered to the others at the table. Then she rose and slipped unnoticed from the room, making a hasty departure.
She would have to ask Tess’s forgiveness later.
Trevor’s telephone started to ring just as he turned the key in the lock of his front door. He tossed his hat onto the sofa on his way to answer it. Given the lateness of the hour, he was sure he knew who would be on the other end.
“Hello.”
“Trevor, dear.” As suspected, it was his mom. “I was so glad to learn you have a phone again. I hated feeling out of touch.”
He shucked out of his coat and dropped it onto the sofa next to his hat. “What’s up? Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“No, dear. Nothing’s wrong. But I did want to ask if you are certain you won’t be home for Christmas. Because if you can come, I want to make plans around your visit.”
They’d had this discussion a few times already. “Not this year, Mom. I need to stay put. I’m not sure I understand why myself, but I feel like I need to be here. At least for a time.”
“I wish I could help,” she said, almost too softly to hear. Then, a little louder, “Whatever it is you’re going through, I wish I could help.”
“You’ve always been there for me, Mom. Always.”
“Not always, Trevor. Not in every way I needed to be. And I’m so sorry.”
“Mom—”
“We both know that’s true.”
He wished he could reach through the phone lines and give her a hug. He knew she blamed herself for not being more of a buffer between him and his father when Trevor had still been a boy. He’d tried to tell her that he understood, that it was all right, that he could deal with the memories, but she couldn’t seem to believe him. Maybe because it wasn’t entirely true. “I love you, Mom. Do you know that?”
“Yes.” She paused a moment. “Yes, of course I know. And I love you.”
“How about you and I take a little trip for Mother’s Day? Maybe to Catalina Island.”
“That would be lovely.”
He heard what she didn’t say: that Mother’s Day was far, far off and she missed him now. Was it possible that he was wrong about where he was supposed to be for Christmas? Maybe it wasn’t God who wanted him in Kings Meadow. After all, what did he know about hearing from God?
His mom put on a brave voice. “Well, tell me more about Kings Meadow and what you’ve been doing since we last talked. Were you out having fun this evening?”
Trevor smiled as he leaned back on the sofa, settling in for a lengthy chat.
Brad
2009
KINGS MEADOW USUALLY ESCAPED THE WORST OF summer heat, surrounded as it was by mountains. But this year the month of July had already broken high-temperature records for ten days running. Which was why Brad, his sister—home from college on summer break—and a bunch of their friends were trying to escape the heat at a favorite swimming hole. The oval-shaped pond was fed by a clear, cold-running creek, the water tumbling down out of the mountains, then in turn emptying into the river a quarter mile below.
A few years ago, a rope and tire had been hung from an ancient tree, perfect for swinging over the pond and dropping into the water, hopefully making a big splash that would catch sunbathers unaware. On his turn, Brad planned to aim his spray at Penny and her boyfriend from Boise, Curt Lansing. Neither Penny nor Curt had been swimming yet. Instead, they’d spent all of their time sitting on large beach towels, heads close together—talking, smiling, laughing.
Brad stepped onto the tire with one foot and grabbed hold of the rope between two large knots. Then he pushed off with the other foot, swinging out over the deepest part of the pond. He let go, and as he plummeted toward the water, he grabbed his knees to his chest to form a cannonball. He hit the water just right. He’d done this often enough to know the direction of the spray.
Breaking the surface, he swirled toward Penny. She and Curt were standing now, shaking the water off their hair like wet dogs. Penny caught Brad’s gaze, and for a second or two she looked genuinely angry. But then she started to laugh.
Penny never had been able to stay angry with her little brother for long. Brad had figured that out when he was still a kid, and if he was honest, he’d taken advantage of it on more than one occasion. He missed getting to tease her and play practical jokes on her when she was away at college. But maybe that made it all the more fun once she was home for the summer.
He swam to the side of the pond near his sister and pulled himself out of the water onto the ledge, still grinning. “Oops. Sorry, Pen.”
“Sure you are. Pest.”
He shrugged as he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Penny responded by snapping a towel at him, missing his arm by no more than an inch.
He feigned a glower. “Oh, you would’ve been in so much trouble, big sister.”
She laughed again, dropped the towel, and then dove into the water, swimming with strong arms toward the opposite side. Curt followed right behind.
The guy had it bad for Penny, no two ways about it. But Brad knew his sister wouldn’t let things go too far. She wouldn’t let herself fall in love until she’d graduated. Maybe not until Brad had graduated from college too.
She’d been after him all summer about deciding what he wanted to do after he finished high school, where he wanted to go to college, what he wanted to study. His best subjects had always been math and science, and Penny thought he should become an engineer of one kind or another. It was a practical career, she said. He could make a good living at it.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her he would much rather study music. In fact, if he didn’t have to think of anybody but himself, he would skip college altogether and become part of a band—the sooner, the better. But his dad and sister both placed a premium on higher education. He wouldn’t do anything to disappoint them if he could help it.
Only someday he was going to follow his dream. Someday he would have to, no matter what.
Chapter 10
PENNY AWAKENED THE NEXT MORNING FEELING grumpy and out of sorts, more tired than when her head hit the pillow. Her dreams had left her unsettled, although in the light of day she couldn’t recall the particulars. The illuminated digits of the clock on the nightstand said it was nearly eight o’clock. It was a rare thing that she slept this late, even on her days off. She’d always been an early riser. Even as a toddler, according to her dad.
She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Warm air pumped through the floor vent to chase the chill of winter from the room, and the scent of coffee wafted under the door, making it impossible for her to linger any longer under the down comforter. After tossing aside the covers, she reached for her robe at the same time she put her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers. She knotted the belt around her waist as she headed out of the room.
“Dad?” she called when she reached the top of the stairs.
“In the kitchen.”
“Sorry I slept in. I hope you waited for me to feed the cows.”
Her dad appeared in the kitchen doorway and watched her descent. “No worries. They’re already taken care of.”
“Dad . . .” She drew out the word in a gentle scold.
“I didn’t do it alone. Trevor helped.”
She felt her heart skitter. “Trevor was here this morning?”
“Bright and early.” Her dad turned back into the kitchen. “I’m about to scramble some eggs. How many do you want?”
“Just one.” She stepped through the doorway and stopped.
Her dad stood at the stove, the eggs on the counter to his right, butter beginning to sizzle in the skillet before him. Trevor sat at the breakfast table, hol
ding a mug of coffee while reading the weekly local newspaper. He looked totally at ease, totally at home. Wishing she’d taken a moment to brush her tousled hair, Penny pinched the top of her robe together.
Trevor looked up. “Good morning.” His jaw was dark with the stubble of a beard. A good look on him, as it so happened.
“Morning,” she mumbled as she headed for the coffee.
“You left awful fast last night. Tess looked all over for you.”
“I . . . I had a headache.” It wasn’t a total fabrication. “I thought it was better to slip out and not disturb the fun.”
“Sorry about the headache. It did get loud. But it quieted down after the games were over and people settled down a bit.”
Her dad whipped raw eggs in a bowl with a fork. “Sounds like everybody had a good time.”
“Turned out to be more fun than I expected,” Trevor answered. “I’m glad I went.” He met Penny’s gaze again. “What about you? Did you have fun, despite the headache?”
“Yes,” she said with reluctance, not wanting to admit it to herself, let alone to him. “I did.”
Trevor closed the newspaper, folded it in half, then in half again. “I’ve traveled a lot over the years. Been in a lot of cities and towns. Sometimes for long stretches, mostly for short. But I don’t think I’ve been anywhere that the folks have made me feel as welcome as I’ve felt here.”
With one exception. Guilt pierced her. Me. I’ve done my best to make you feel very unwelcome.
She tried to see that same accusation in his eyes. She wanted him to accuse her of being unfriendly—because it was true. But she couldn’t see it. He wasn’t accusing her of anything.
Her dad said, “Sit down, Pen. These eggs are just about ready.”
Obediently, she carried her mug of coffee to the table and sat opposite Trevor. The table had already been set for three, and she suspected Trevor had had a hand in that too. A minute later her dad set a platter of eggs and another of buttered toast in the middle of the table, followed soon after by a pitcher of orange juice. Her father joined them at the table, and after he said a brief blessing, he handed the platter of eggs to her and the platter of toast to Trevor. No one spoke as they put food on their plates.
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 bac
k 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.
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