Keeper of the Stars

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  It had been like this all summer between him and his sister. Their dad had spent a lot of time playing referee between the two, to no avail. It wasn’t as if Brad hadn’t tried to keep his temper, tried to mend fences, tried to get back to the way things used to be between him and Penny. But nothing he’d tried ever worked for long.

  Their latest fight had started when she’d repeated—for what seemed the millionth time—her plans for his life after he graduated from Boise State. That was still three years away, but she acted like the future was etched in stone—and she was the stonecutter.

  He’d made the mistake of saying, “I don’t know what I’ll do or where I’ll go after college. I may want to take a job someplace besides here or Boise. I’m thinking about Nashville.” He should have known better than to mention Nashville. It was code for “country music,” and they both knew it.

  Things had escalated quickly from there, Penny calling him selfish, Brad calling her a control freak. He’d left before either of them could say anything worse.

  Arriving at a parking area that led to the river, Brad found a place in the shade and cut the engine. Then he got out of the truck and started walking. Fast. With any luck he could burn off the anger and frustration with a good hike.

  Maybe he’d been wrong to listen to Penny’s urging to go for an engineering degree. Maybe that had given her the idea that she was in charge—that he would do whatever she told him to do. It wasn’t too late to change his major. He could study music.

  “You’d end up a teacher, Brad,” Penny’s voice echoed in his memory. “You’ve never said you want to teach. Do you?”

  No, it wasn’t what he wanted. But neither did he want to be an engineer just so he could get a job that paid lots of money. He wanted to be a drummer. He wanted to live and work with other musicians. Why couldn’t she understand that?

  He halted on the path along the riverbank. Closing his eyes, he drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. Once, twice, then a third time.

  I shouldn’t let her get to me that way. I should hold my temper. She’s just trying to help.

  He opened his eyes and looked at the sky. “Okay. So how do I make things better?”

  Leave for college now!

  That wasn’t an answer from God. That was his own thought. And not the right answer. Not really. If he—

  Meooow.

  He looked around.

  Meooow.

  He hadn’t imagined the sound. It was a kitten. A kitten in distress. He stepped off the beaten path and began poking through the underbrush.

  Meooow.

  He found the black-and-white kitten at the base of a pine tree, clinging to the trunk only a few inches above the ground. He doubted it was more than six or eight weeks old.

  “Hey, look at you. How’d you get all the way out here all by yourself?”

  The most probable answer was that the kitten had been dumped here. Or maybe it had escaped being drowned in the river. He knew people did that kind of thing, although he couldn’t understand how they could. Slowly he reached out and gently pulled the kitten off the tree trunk. It wasn’t any too happy, but it was too small to escape his grasp. He turned it around to face him.

  “Hey, look at that tuxedo you’re wearing. Aren’t you a handsome guy? Oops, I think maybe you’re a girl. That’s okay. I like girls.” He grinned. “We’ll call you Tux. What do you think of that?”

  Meooow.

  Brad laughed as he drew the kitten close to his chest. “Yeah. Things are tough all over. But you won’t feel that way when we get home and I get you full of milk.”

  Imagining Penny’s expression when she saw he’d brought home a kitten made him laugh again. His sister tried to like cats but never quite succeeded. Still, maybe Tux would make her forget their latest fight. He could only hope.

  Chapter 17

  THE FOLLOWING SIX DAYS PASSED IN A BLUR. TREVOR was at the ranch more than he was not and felt more and more at home there. With Rodney’s neighbors pitching in, the chores never seemed to take long, which left more time for him to spend with his mom—and when she wasn’t at the library, with Penny. Rodney began to feel stronger with each passing day, faster than anyone had expected, including Rodney himself. He adjusted to the lifestyle changes required of him without complaint. Finally the day arrived for Trevor to drive his mom to the Boise airport for her flight home. Rodney joined him for the drive there and back. He said it was to keep Trevor company. Trevor thought the older man just wanted a couple more hours with Dot. The two had become fast friends.

  Trevor had just returned to his apartment after dropping Rodney at the ranch when his telephone rang.

  “Hey, Trev. How the heck are you?”

  It took him a few seconds to recognize the voice. Not because it wasn’t a familiar one, since it belonged to one of his original band members, Beck Thompson, but it had been a while since they’d talked. Beck had left the band when his wife got pregnant with the first of their three kids. The youngest of them must be three or four years old by now.

  “I’m good, Beck. Doing all right. How about you?”

  “Good. Great. Wife’s fine. Kids are fine. Listen, I’ve been calling your cell phone and sending texts for a couple of weeks. Don’t you ever answer? I finally got this number from your agent.”

  “My mobile phone doesn’t work up here in these mountains. Guess I should call in for my messages via my landline.”

  “Yeah. You should. This is important.”

  Trevor shucked out of his coat and settled onto a chair. “What’s up?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a long story, but the short version is I met a producer who I think might be able to do something for you.”

  How often had Trevor heard words like those before? Seemed like dozens of times in a dozen years. He would hear them, get his hopes up, and then nothing would happen. Nothing big anyway. Nothing that had catapulted him to where he’d wanted to be.

  “Trevor, you ought to think about coming back to Nashville.”

  Penny’s image flashed in his head. He saw her tender smile. Heard her sweet laugh.

  “Are you listening, Trev? ’Cause I’m serious as a heart attack. Get back here. Don’t walk away from everything.”

  “I’m not walking away,” he answered emphatically—and then wondered if it was true. He drew in a slow breath. “I came to Idaho to keep a promise to Brad. I’m helping out his dad and sister.”

  “So how long’s that gonna take?”

  “I don’t know for sure. A while.”

  The silence from Beck’s end of the call almost crackled with displeasure.

  Trevor tried to give a better answer. “A month or two.” But that didn’t sound long enough. “Maybe by the end of March.”

  “Okay, listen. I’m gonna keep working on things at this end. But you need to tell me how I can reach you without a long lag time, in case something breaks all of a sudden.”

  Even my agent isn’t this persistent. Trevor almost laughed. “Tell you what: if you can’t reach me here at this number, call and leave a message on my cell. I promise to check for messages every night before I turn in. Good enough?”

  “Guess it’ll have to be. You start thinking about getting back here before March. I’ll call you when I know anything more.”

  And I won’t be holding my breath until then. “Sure. Sounds good. Take care, Beck.”

  “You too, Trevor.”

  By the next day, Trevor had almost forgotten Beck’s phone call. In the past he would have dwelt on the possibilities every waking hour and probably dreamed about them too. It just wasn’t the end-all and be-all anymore, as amazing as that was for him to admit. He pondered that bit of self-discovery as he kicked snow off his boots after feeding the cattle. Once in the mudroom, he removed his coat and hung it on a peg on the wall, then walked into the kitchen.

  Seated at the table, Rodney looked up. “You done already?” Spread before him was a ledger book, a pile of receipts and invoices
, and a calculator.

  “Yes, sir.” Trevor crossed the room and sat on a chair opposite the older man.

  “Wish you’d let me help. I’m perfectly capable of driving that truck again.”

  “Help was already lined up through next weekend. Let’s leave things as they are. It won’t hurt you to keep resting until then.”

  “You’re almost as bossy as my daughter,” Rodney grumbled, but a chuckle spoiled the effect.

  Trevor pointed at the paperwork on the table. “Looks like you’ve got enough on your hands for now, anyway.”

  The older man sighed, his gaze locked on a page of the ledger. “At the moment, I’m robbing Peter to pay Paul.”

  “Doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not.”

  Trevor leaned forward on his chair. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, son. You’ve already done so much.”

  He hesitated to ask the obvious question. He didn’t want to insult Rodney or intrude where he shouldn’t. He respected the man, trusted him, wouldn’t want to offend him in any way. But the question rolled around in his head until it would no longer be ignored. “Sir, do you need to borrow money?”

  Rodney looked up and seemed about to deny it. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he said, “The bank already turned me down for a loan. And that was before my stay at the clinic. I suppose I’m an even poorer risk now.”

  “I didn’t mean from the bank. I could loan you some money.”

  Silence gripped the kitchen for a long time before Rodney answered, “No, Trevor. I couldn’t accept it. But thank you. I appreciate the offer. More than I can say.”

  Trevor wasn’t going to be so easily refused. Not now that he’d warmed to the idea. “Think about it, Rodney. I’m not rich, but I’ve got a fair-sized nest egg in the bank. My expenses are almost nothing here in Kings Meadow. Even less than I thought they’d be when I first arrived. It wouldn’t be a burden on me. You don’t have to worry about that. I promise. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have it to give. Maybe I don’t have enough to cover everything you need, but surely it would be enough to help see you through until you can sell off more calves.” He saw Rodney was about to reply, suspected he was about to refuse again. “Don’t answer right this instant. Don’t refuse until you think about it. Really think about it.”

  Silent as requested, Rodney ran the fingers of his right hand through his gray hair.

  Trevor leaned back, afraid that if he left the room, Rodney would talk himself out of accepting the offer. And Trevor really wanted him to accept. Wanted it more with each passing minute.

  The sound of the door opening and closing broke the quiet that had settled over the two men. A moment later Penny’s voice called out, “I forgot to tell you the library was closing early, Dad.”

  Trevor glanced toward the door as she walked into the kitchen. Her cheeks were rosy, as if she’d been a long while in the cold instead of only the moments it took to go from car to house. Her smile seemed directed at Trevor as well as her dad, and it felt good that it didn’t vanish the way it used to when she looked at him.

  “I thought I’d go for a ride,” she said. “I haven’t been in the saddle in ages, and everything is so beautiful with the sunshine sparkling off the snow and the sky such an icy blue.”

  “It’s mighty cold out there,” Rodney said.

  “I’ll bundle up good.” Her gaze met Trevor’s. “Would you like to join me?”

  “You bet.” He stood so fast his chair started to tip over. He grabbed for it just in time.

  Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “I’ll run up to change my clothes.” She disappeared through the doorway.

  Trevor sat down again.

  “She always did like riding horses in the cold and snow.” Rodney gave Trevor a knowing look. “Seems you agree with her. As for me, I think I’ll go sit by the fire and take a nap.”

  Penny’s and Trevor’s breaths hung before their faces as they saddled and bridled their mounts. But Penny barely noticed the cold. She was dressed for the weather, of course, but the reason she didn’t notice went beyond that. She felt . . . happy. A happiness that warmed her much more than the insulated underwear beneath her jeans and sweater. She had no interest in analyzing why she felt happy, only in enjoying it.

  The horses ready, they led them out of the barn. Trevor closed the door behind them before stepping into the saddle. “Where are we headed?” he asked as his gaze swung in her direction.

  She pointed toward the eastern mountains with an outstretched arm. “Thataway.” Then she nudged her horse’s sides with her heels and they started forward. “Come on, Fred. Ginger.”

  The two border collies didn’t need further encouragement.

  Trevor had mentioned that he wanted to own a horse again, and she realized, when she looked over at him, that she’d been skeptical about his interest. She shouldn’t have been. The way he sat in the saddle, the way he held the reins, the pleasure written in the upward turn of the corners of his mouth—all said he hadn’t embellished his experience with horses or the enjoyment he took from them.

  We should have done this before today.

  Trevor glanced her way. She wished the sunglasses didn’t hide his eyes.

  “This is great,” he said, grinning. “Thanks for inviting me to come along. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m loving it now.”

  You look good in the saddle. Her cheeks grew warm.

  Perhaps not noticing her blush, he looked across the fields toward the mountains again. “I haven’t been out this direction before. It’s the visual definition of winter wonderland, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “How far along this way is Cartwright land?”

  She pointed ahead. “That clump of trees is the northeast corner. Beyond that fence line, there’s about sixty acres that have been for sale for the last five years. Dad’s always wished he could buy that land so he could increase the herd. But the owners haven’t lowered the price any in five years, so I guess they aren’t in a hurry to sell.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. Can’t afford it. And growing the ranch is the last thing Dad needs to do for his health.”

  “He wants it because he’s the real deal. You know what I mean. A modern-day cowboy. It isn’t about the clothes he wears. It’s the land and the livestock. It runs in his veins, I think.”

  “Dad would love to hear you say all that.”

  “Well, it’s true. Me, all I’ve got are the boots, jeans, and hat. Oh, and the pickup truck.”

  She smiled at him. “You forgot your love of country music. That’s worth a point or two of cowboy cred.”

  “Cowboy cred?” He laughed aloud. “Did a librarian really say that? Isn’t it sort of a mixed metaphor or something? You know. The word cowboy mixed with urban lingo.”

  She feigned insult. “I like it.” But she couldn’t keep it up for long. Her laughter bubbled up to mingle with his.

  They fell into a pleasant silence; the only sounds the crunch of crusty snow beneath the horses’ hooves and the creak of leather saddles. Sunlight sparkled across the snowy landscape. At the foot of the mountains, smoke rose from a chimney, although the house itself was hidden from view. Penny thought she caught a whiff of burning wood, although it was probably her imagination. That chimney was a long way off, and the air was still, no breeze to carry scents any distance.

  “Tell me something,” Trevor said.

  She glanced over at him. “What?”

  “If it weren’t for your father, would you still be living in Kings Meadow?”

  She pondered the question for a short while, finally answering, “I don’t know. If you’d asked me a few years ago, I would have said no. Not because I don’t like it here. I love it. But I wanted to see more of the country while I was young and unmarried.”

  “Did you ever come close to marrying? Any special guy in your life?”

  It surprised her, the personal nature of his questions, and yet she
wasn’t upset or even reluctant to answer. “No. Not really. There was somebody I dated in college for a number of months. I thought the relationship might turn into something special. But it never did. On either of our parts. We were better as friends. You know what I mean.”

  A shrug was his answer.

  “Have you ever thought about marrying?”

  He answered quickly and firmly. “No. Never.” Once again his gaze lifted to the mountaintops ahead of them. “My parents’ marriage wasn’t the happiest I’ve seen. My dad was a . . . He was a hard man. Angry. Unkind.” He drew a breath. “He could be cruel at times.”

  She’d guessed as much as she’d grown to know Trevor, but it hurt to hear him say the words aloud. “And because of that, you don’t ever want to marry?”

  “You know how they say cycles get repeated, passed along in families. Like adult children of alcoholics becoming alcoholics. Like those kids who were abused become abusers. What if I got married and had kids and ended up treating my wife and children the way Mom and I were treated?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way, Trevor. Dad always says that God can break generational sins.”

  He looked at her, emotions flickering across his face. It seemed as if he wanted to believe her but was afraid to. After a long while, he said, “The life of a traveling musician isn’t exactly conducive to healthy, long-term relationships. Of any kind. Romantic or otherwise. It always seemed best that I just keep my friendships casual.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  He glanced her way again. “I never used to think so.”

  “And now?”

  Again he shrugged. “Guess I’m not so sure.”

  Why did that answer make her pulse quicken?

  As if needing her body to move as fast as her heart rate, she tapped the heels of her boots against her gelding’s sides. The horse broke into a trot, the dogs running ahead. Trevor lagged behind only for a short while. When his mount pulled up beside her, he grinned but seemed content for them to lapse into silence once again.

  It suited Penny as well.