Keeper of the Stars

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Trevor paused in his work and looked across the barn to where the older couple sat, Rodney on a stool near the workbench and his mom on a folded tarp atop a couple of bales of straw. Winter sunlight filtered through spaces in the slats of wood, highlighting dust motes floating in the air and painting a kind of crown in his mom’s brown hair.

  When was the last time he’d seen her look as relaxed and happy as she did now? A long time. Many years. As a kid, Trevor had heard his dad belittle his mom almost as often as he did it to him. After he left home for Nashville, Trevor’s rare visits home had filled his mom with tension—despite how much she wanted him there—because she’d known a fight between father and son was inevitable. Many fights, even when the visit was brief. In the years since his father’s death, she’d had to learn to live alone, to do things she’d never had to do when his dad was alive. That had been more difficult for her than she’d admitted to Trevor, but he’d figured it out on his own.

  She was different now. Was it being here in Kings Meadow or was it a change that had happened over time? Perhaps it was a little of both.

  Trevor smiled as he resumed cleaning out the second stall. A sense of well-being wrapped around him with the warmth of a down-filled coat. The praise song he’d thought of earlier this morning came to mind again, and he began to whistle it softly.

  “Trevor.” His mom’s voice drew his attention toward the stall door, and he was surprised to find her so close. “That’s a song you should record. You should do an entire album of worship music.”

  What a crazy idea. The album he and the guys had recorded some years back hadn’t exactly been a runaway hit, despite everything he’d tried. Consumers of Christian music wouldn’t even know who he was. If he couldn’t sell country, he couldn’t sell anything.

  “Think about it,” she added with a smile. “I’m going in the house to start supper.”

  Rodney appeared at her side. “I told her she’s our guest and shouldn’t do the cooking, but I’m learning she has a stubborn streak.”

  Trevor couldn’t hold back a short laugh of agreement.

  “Watch it,” his mom said, pointing a finger at him, “or I’ll burn something meant for you.”

  “Hey! I’m not the one who called you stubborn.”

  Her face lit with a smile. “I know.” Then she walked away, soft laughter trailing behind her.

  After a few moments of silence, Rodney said, “Your mother’s a joy.”

  Trevor couldn’t have argued even if he’d wanted to. His mom was a joy. She’d been the anchor in a home often consumed by stormy seas, and he felt a surge of love for her. He was glad for the chance to see her looking . . . looking what? The word came to him in an instant: she looked carefree. Another reason—one among many—to be thankful to the Cartwrights. And to God.

  Trevor leaned the pitchfork against the wall of the barn. “I’m finished here. What else needs done?”

  “Nothing, son. Let’s go inside and get warm while we wait for Penny’s return. Big night ahead.”

  “I’ll bring in Harmony first so Penny won’t have to do it when she gets home from work. I’ll join you and Mom in a bit.”

  “All right.”

  Trevor reached for his coat that he’d laid over the top rail of the stall. He hadn’t needed it while he mucked the stalls, but he knew he would need it when he went out the back door of the barn. Once his coat was buttoned closed, he took the pitchfork in hand again and returned it to where all of the tools were stored before heading outside.

  Although technically still afternoon, the promise of evening had dimmed the bright blue of the winter sky. It wouldn’t be long before the evening star was visible.

  Arriving at the pasture fence, he whistled, although it wasn’t necessary. He’d been seen already. Harmony trotted toward him, followed by the two other horses that shared this paddock, all of them counting on a treat of some kind. They weren’t disappointed this time. He had carrots in his pocket and distributed them quickly. Then he led Harmony out of the pasture and into the barn.

  If he bought a horse while he was in Kings Meadow, what would he do with it once he returned to Nashville? Sure, he could rent a pasture as he had before, but after he began touring, then what? He wouldn’t be around enough to enjoy it. Why have the expense if he rarely got to ride?

  As he gave Harmony’s neck a final pat before heading to the house, it occurred to him that the idea of being back on the road, playing music in smoky venues or at noisy fairs and festivals, held little appeal. The discovery unsettled him. All he’d ever wanted was to make it big in the country music business. The pursuit of fame had been like a drug to him, something he needed as much as food or sleep. Without his quest for stardom, who was he? What was he?

  He didn’t know, but he knew he’d better find out.

  Brad

  2011

  “HEY, DAD!” BRAD HOPPED UP FROM THE DESK IN his bedroom and carried his laptop with him out into the hallway. “Where are you?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  He hurried down the stairs. “Listen to this. I finally got a reply from Trevor Reynolds.” He looked at the screen. “ ‘Hey, kid. Sorry it took so long for me to answer your last e-mail. I needed to wait until we nailed down a few more dates. Afraid the news is Lincoln, Nebraska, is as far west as we’ll make it this summer.’ ”

  He glanced up at his dad, then continued reading. “ ‘Congrats on graduating from high school with honors, and thanks for the video you sent from that party you played with your friends. You’re good. When you get to college, don’t let your practice slide. Take care and stay in touch. Trevor.’ ”

  He looked up again. “Did you hear what he said? He liked the video. He thought I played good.”

  “I heard.”

  “Man, I wish I could go see him perform again. Maybe you and I could take a trip to Nebraska. You know—a father-son thing. Last hurrah before college.” He tried to copy the pleading look his sister could do with ease.

  His dad laughed. “Nice try, son.”

  Sure. He’d known it was a long shot, with or without the pleading look. Money was tight. His dad had used what little there was to spare to see Penny get her master’s degree in Denver. Brad was at home to help tend the livestock. That aspect of ranch life had kept his dad on a short leash for years. But the ranch was his dad’s passion just like the drums were Brad’s. His dad didn’t mind the sacrifices he made to live the life he loved. Brad planned to follow his example in pursuit of the life he wanted.

  “I was about to make some popcorn,” his dad said. “Want some?”

  “Sure.” Brad closed the laptop and set it on the counter.

  “I’ll get the air popper. You melt the butter.”

  “Okay.”

  His dad opened a cupboard and reached for the popper. “We won’t have many more chances to do this before you leave for college.”

  “Dad, I’m only going to BSU. I’ll probably be home so often you’ll want to kick me out. And besides, we’ve got all summer before I leave.”

  “All summer,” his dad echoed softly. “It seems a long time at your age. Not so much at mine.”

  Brad got butter out of the refrigerator and put some into a coffee mug to melt in the microwave. By the time it was done, the corn was starting to pop into a large mixing bowl on the opposite counter. The sounds and smells brought an onslaught of good memories with them, and Brad suddenly understood that he really would miss home once he was out on his own.

  Thanks, God, for making him my dad. He’s the best.

  Chapter 15

  THE AROMA OF BREWED COFFEE MET PENNY THE next morning as she entered through the rear door of the library. Not a surprise, since she was a good fifteen minutes late to work. She hadn’t been able to get ready this morning with her usual efficiency. After returning from the community sleigh ride at the Leonard ranch the previous evening, the Cartwrights and the Reynoldses had stayed up late, visiting and laughing, Penny included. She’
d told herself more than once to go upstairs to bed, but then her dad or Dot or even Trevor had started telling another story and she’d stayed to hear the ending.

  “Tired?” Karli asked as she watched Penny hang up her coat. “Here.” She held out a cup of coffee. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

  Penny took it. “Thanks. I do. I didn’t take time for any before leaving the house.”

  “Did you stay at the Leonards’ too late?”

  “Not really. But it was close to midnight when Trevor finally left the house.”

  Karli cocked an eyebrow. “You went on the sleigh ride with Trevor Reynolds?”

  “Not just with him.” She set the coffee mug on the counter. “His mom and my dad too. It was a family affair.”

  Family? She felt her cheeks grow warm. She’d meant her dad, but it hadn’t sounded that way. Then she remembered sitting between her dad and Trevor in the sleigh and the blush intensified. The same blanket had covered her lap and Trevor’s. For some reason, it had felt intimate, meaningful, and as inviting as an embrace.

  What a silly thing to think.

  Trying to sound normal, she said to Karli, “I didn’t see you out at the Leonards’. Did you go?”

  “No. Stevie started running a fever again.” Stevie was Karli’s toddler son. “We decided not to expose a babysitter to whatever he has. Although he seemed well enough this morning when I left the house.”

  “I’m glad to hear he’s better. Nobody wants to be sick this time of year. Especially not the little guys.”

  Karli smiled. “He is in awe of the tree. Doesn’t understand about gifts yet. He was too young last Christmas. I’m afraid I went overboard with presents for him this year. It’s so hard not to.” Her smile faded as she shook her head. “Mitch isn’t pleased about the credit-card balance.”

  Penny didn’t have a husband or kids, but she still understood the temptations to overspend at Christmas. Thankfully she’d kept her spending in check this year. To be honest, she’d had little choice.

  “Looks like it’s time to open the front door.” Karli moved away from the counter. “See you out there.”

  Penny drew in a deep breath, took a sip of her coffee, and then followed Karli out of the break room. She’d just reached the checkout area when the telephone rang. She answered it. “Kings Meadow District Library. Penny speaking.”

  “Penny. It’s Trevor.”

  Her heart did a strange happy dance in her chest at the sound of his voice. Ridiculous.

  “Something’s wrong with your dad. He collapsed. The paramedics are on the way to the ranch.”

  Her heart crashed to a halt. “Collapsed? What do you mean? Where was he? What was he doing? Is it his back?”

  “It was in the house. He said he wasn’t feeling well, and then he just sort of crumpled to the floor.”

  “He fainted?”

  Hesitation, then, “We’re not sure. He’s still unconscious.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “We called for the paramedics. They should be here any minute.”

  “I’ll be right there. I’m coming home now.”

  “You might not make it to the ranch in time.”

  In time?

  “You should meet us at the clinic. I’m sure they’ll want to get him there as fast as they can and let the doctor decide if he needs to go to the hospital in Boise.”

  Clinic. Doctor. Hospital. She felt her world spinning out of control again.

  “Penny?”

  Yes, she mouthed, but no sound came out.

  “The paramedics are here.”

  “I’ll meet you at the clinic.” She dropped the handset into the cradle without saying good-bye. When she turned, she found Karli standing nearby. “It’s my dad.”

  “I overheard. Go. Go now. I’ll take care of things. Don’t give the library a second thought.”

  With an abrupt nod, she hurried toward the back exit, fear making it hard to breathe.

  Dad. Not Dad. Please not Dad.

  Penny had no idea how long it took her to reach the medical clinic. When she hurried through the double doors, she had no recollection of the route she’d driven or who she might have seen along the way. Nor did she recognize the woman seated at the front desk, although she probably should have.

  “I’m Penny Cartwright. Is my dad here? Rodney Cartwright. The ambulance was bringing him in.”

  The woman—perhaps forty with red hair that had come from a bottle and long, pointy fingernails painted with fluorescent green polish—shook her head. “No, he hasn’t arrived. If you’d like to sit over there . . .” She motioned toward some chairs in the waiting area.

  Penny would have preferred to pace, but she forced herself to sit down. She even managed to pick up a dog-eared magazine, although she didn’t pretend to look at it, let alone thumb through its pages.

  She felt a change in air pressure, and instinct told her that the doors at the far end of the corridor had opened. She stood and moved to a place where she could see. Sure enough, her dad was being rolled into the clinic on a gurney by a couple of paramedics. Behind them came Trevor and his mom. Penny ran down the hallway as they wheeled her dad into a room.

  A nurse stopped her before she could follow through the doorway. “You’ll have to wait here, Penny.”

  Penny blinked, once again aware that she should have been able to call the woman by her name. But her mind was blank.

  A strong arm went around her shoulders. Softly, Trevor said, “Come on, Penny. Let the doctor tend to your dad. He’s in good hands.”

  She tried to swallow the rising terror but failed.

  Gently but persistently, Trevor eased her down the hall until they reached a row of three chairs. He guided her to the middle one. He took the first and his mother settled onto the third. In silence, they shed their coats.

  What happened? The question repeated in Penny’s head several times, but she hadn’t the courage to ask it aloud.

  Trevor put his arm around her shoulders once again. She didn’t resist. Didn’t want to resist. After a while, he drew her closer to his side, and she realized tears were running down her cheeks.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said softly.

  She turned her face into his shirt and allowed fear to form two words in her mind: Will it?

  Trevor held her, his heart aching. She didn’t make a sound as she wept, which made her tears seem all the more tragic. Over Penny’s head, his mom watched them, compassion in her eyes. A lump formed in his throat. He was helpless to take away the pain Penny felt, helpless to take away her fears. He knew that but wished he could all the same.

  Minutes passed. Long, silent minutes that allowed Trevor’s thoughts to roam. He remembered when his father had died, the phone call from his mom, the guilt he’d felt for not caring more. Then he remembered the night he’d held Brad in his arms and watched his life slip away. Brad’s loss was one Trevor had mourned deeply—and he’d experienced a different kind of guilt. Now, if Rodney were to die . . .

  God, I’m afraid too. Help him, Lord.

  Penny drew back from him, sat straight, and dried her eyes with a tissue Trevor’s mom pressed into her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He withdrew his arm from around her shoulders, sensing she didn’t wish to be comforted by him any longer. He could almost see her put on the armor she would need to win whatever emotional battle awaited her.

  Time crawled while they waited in silence, but finally the sounds of footsteps drew their eyes to a doctor in a white coat walking toward them. His gaze swept over the threesome, then settled on Penny. “Miss Cartwright.”

  She nodded. “Dr. Frederick.” Trevor saw her grasp his mom’s hand.

  “We don’t have the results of the blood work yet, but from what your father told me, he was diagnosed with diabetes sometime in the fall. Did he tell you that?”

  Penny shook her head, then nodded, then shrugged. “He said his doctor in Boise advised him t
o watch his blood sugar, but Dad never used the word diabetic. I thought cutting back on sugar was a precaution. That he just needed to curb his sweet tooth and watch his weight. That’s how he made it sound.” She inhaled as she got to her feet. “How serious is it?”

  “He wasn’t in a diabetic coma, which was our first concern. He’s alert and answering all of our questions. We’re getting him rehydrated with an IV now, and when we confirm the diagnosis, we’ll administer appropriate medications to get his sugars under control.”

  “Will he need to be transferred to the hospital?”

  The doctor shook his head. “I can’t say with absolute certainty until the blood work is back and I’m able to speak to his personal physician, but I believe we’ll be able to care for him here at the clinic.”

  “May I see him?”

  “Not yet. Give us a while. I’ll send the nurse for you when he’s ready to have visitors.”

  Penny sank onto the chair again.

  After a brief silence, Trevor asked the doctor, “How long will he need to stay?”

  “Two or three days, I imagine. He obviously needs to learn to manage his blood-sugar levels, and Miss Cartwright should be educated too. He must eat the right foods and get the right exercise and take his medications as prescribed. I can recommend a good nutritionist to work with him. But we’ll have time to go over all of that later. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my patient.”

  They watched the doctor retrace his steps to the room Rodney was in. Only after Dr. Frederick was out of sight did Penny speak. “Why didn’t Dad tell me the truth?” She turned from Trevor to his mom. “Why did he hide his condition from me?”

  “I haven’t known your father long,” his mom answered with great tenderness, “but I suspect he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry about him.”

  “More than I do already?” Penny clutched her hands in her lap.

  His mom gave her the briefest of smiles. “More than you do already.”

  Penny wanted to be angry with her dad for keeping his condition a secret, but she couldn’t muster the emotion. Right now, all she wanted was for him to get well.