The Kings Meadow Romance Collection

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  It didn’t take her much longer to find what she searched for. It was beside the stereo. The cellophane wrapping had been removed from the jewel case, and she wondered how often her dad had listened to the album over the last year. He’d never said a word to her about it. Her heart ached at the discovery. They could have shared this, but she’d been too angry.

  With a sigh, she reached for the portable CD player her dad sometimes used—she’d tried to convince him to use his iPad but he’d declined—and went to sit on the couch. She opened the case and popped out the CD, then dropped it into the player. After hooking her hair behind her ears, she put in the earbuds and pressed Play.

  The first track was a well-known love song, but Trevor made it distinctly his. The smooth sound of his voice pulled her into the romance of the lyrics. She pictured him sitting on a tall stool, guitar resting on one thigh. For the briefest of moments, she imagined him singing to her. Longing rose up inside of her. Longing to be loved in that same way, for someone special to want to say those same words in the song about her and to her.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, surprised by the unfamiliar feelings swirling inside. But it was a momentary foolishness. She’d never been in a hurry to fall in love. She was content to wait until it was meant to happen. No ticking clock for her. She was too practical for that.

  She pushed the Stop button on the player, not waiting for the song to end, and removed the earbuds. Her gaze went to the Christmas tree, staring at the twinkling lights, hoping they would comfort her. Oddly enough, they did just that. For a short while, time stood still. Her thoughts drifted in a sea of silence.

  “Penny?” Her father stepped out of the dark hall and into the living room. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” She held up the jewel player. “I was listening to music.”

  Her dad moved to the couch, picked up the jewel case, and sat beside her. “Trevor’s CD, huh?”

  “I thought it was about time I listened to it.”

  “He’s good.”

  “Better than I expected. Even though Brad told me a hundred times at least.”

  A soft grunt was his only reply.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Weren’t you ever angry with Brad for abandoning us the way he did? For abandoning you and the ranch?”

  He placed his arm around her shoulders. “He didn’t abandon me, Penny, or you or the ranch. He went after his dream. That’s what I raised both of you to do. I raised you to live your own lives, not to live mine.”

  What her dad said was true. That was how he’d raised his children. But didn’t those children have an obligation to him in return?

  “I would never want you to stay in Kings Meadow because of me, Pen. If your heart pulled you elsewhere, I would want you to go.”

  She frowned in frustration. Her dad couldn’t manage the ranch without help, and he needed her income as well. Didn’t he understand that by now?

  “Penny, I would never clip your wings after teaching you how to fly.” He tightened his arm, drawing her nearer.

  She thought of her brother again—and of Trevor. Both of them so passionate about their music, both of them going after a career in entertainment even when common sense and family members opposed their decisions. Had she ever wanted anything that much? No, she answered herself honestly. She hadn’t. Oh, she was content being a librarian. It appealed to her love of order and logic and learning. But was it a passionate dream to be pursued?

  “What’s troubling you, Pen?”

  As she laid her head against his shoulder, she felt that earlier longing rise up inside her again. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Not a lie. Not really the truth.

  He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, and they sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

  Trevor had finished his breakfast and was carrying his dishes to the sink when the phone rang. This early in the morning, the sound sent a shard of anxiety through him as he reached to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Trevor. It’s Rodney. Glad I caught you before you left.”

  “I was just about to head your way.”

  “Well, no need to come unless it’s to see your mom. Penny was up early, so she’s going to help me with the first feeding.”

  “Is Mom up?”

  “No,” Rodney answered. “Not yet.”

  “You sure you don’t need me?”

  “I’m sure. But we’ll see you tonight.”

  “All right, then. See you tonight.” Trevor heard the click on the opposite end of the wire, then placed the handset back in its cradle.

  He washed his breakfast dishes but, once done, was left with lots of time to kill until he had to leave for work. Habit drew him to the black case in the corner. He laid it on the floor, opened it, and removed the guitar. He held it but didn’t play it. Not right away. He just let himself draw pleasure from holding the instrument.

  But it was different from the kind of pleasure he used to get from it. In the past, playing and singing had been about earning the approval of the audience. He’d needed the applause the way everybody else needed oxygen. He was smart enough to understand at least some of that was due to the difficult relationship he’d had with his father, and it had made him make a host of dumb choices through the years.

  Brad used to tell him that God wanted to heal the hurts from his past; that God wanted to be the father who would never betray him or hurt him or reject him. Trevor hadn’t believed that was possible. Recent weeks had proven otherwise.

  He strummed a few chords as the words of a worship song from church played in his memory. That was an example of another change. He’d spent the last dozen years singing or writing songs about the love between a man and a woman, but the truth was he’d known little about that emotion. Now God was opening his eyes to a greater kind of love, and he found he wanted to sing about it all the time.

  His fingers stilled, and for a short while he simply sat in God’s presence. From his days in Sunday school, he remembered the words “Be still, and know that I am God.”

  But then, out of nowhere, he thought of Penny. He remembered her tears. He remembered how right it had felt to hold her and comfort her. And he remembered knowing that this wasn’t the time to want what he shouldn’t want.

  Another ring of the telephone was a welcome interruption. He set the guitar aside and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Trevor, it’s Yuli. I just had a breakfast meeting with the mayor, and I’ve got some good news for you. We decided that unless we get another major snowstorm, you won’t need to come in to work until next Monday. A skeleton crew is all we need the rest of the week. Enjoy the time you’ve got with your mother and have a merry Christmas.”

  More time to spend with his mom. More time to spend at the ranch. And, though he tried not to think it, more time to spend with Penny.

  “Thanks, Yuli. I appreciate it. Merry Christmas to you too.”

  After ending the call, his gaze swept the small apartment again. Not a single reason to hang around here, he decided. He grabbed his keys, put on his coat and hat, and headed out the door.

  Chapter 14

  STANDING BENEATH THE SPRAY OF HOT WATER, Penny shampooed away the bits of hay and dust that had worked their way into her hair, despite her knit cap. Then she stood still and enjoyed the warmth as it seeped into her bones. She never minded helping her dad with the cattle and other chores, but she wasn’t a fan of the predawn temperatures of winter.

  When she was finished in the shower, she got ready for work with her usual efficiency. Her hair care was low maintenance, as was her makeup routine. In less than half an hour she was headed downstairs.

  Laughter from the kitchen greeted her. Her dad and Dot Reynolds. Already the sound seemed familiar to Penny. Then she heard another voice. Trevor’s. The song she’d listened to earlier immediately echoed in her mind. Her heart seemed to stop and then race. She’d heard he
r dad call Trevor on the phone earlier. She’d heard him say Trevor needn’t come over this morning. Why was he here? And wasn’t he late for work already?

  Drawing a steadying breath, she descended the final few steps and walked into the kitchen, as calm and cool as she pleased.

  “Ah,” her dad said. “Here’s Penny now.”

  She glanced toward the table, acknowledged all three with a smile and a nod of her head, and then poured herself another cup of coffee.

  “Ready for some breakfast?” Her dad stood.

  She waved him back down. “I’ll fix it, Dad. Thanks.”

  While she heated the skillet, scrambled herself an egg, and buttered a slice of toast, she listened to Dot and Trevor reminisce about some of his boyhood Christmases. Despite the laughter that sometimes accompanied the conversation, Penny sensed Trevor’s memories weren’t all as merry as he pretended. Something in the tone of his voice. She glanced over her shoulder. Something about his expression too.

  With the plate of food in one hand and a small glass of orange juice in the other, she went to the table.

  Her dad said, “Trevor doesn’t have to go to work again until after Christmas. Where do you think he should take Dot today, Penny? We’ve got the sleigh ride at the Leonard ranch tonight.”

  “We can’t go far,” Trevor interjected. “Have to be here to help you feed.”

  Her dad frowned. “I don’t like interfering with your mother’s visit. I appreciate your help, but I can manage on my own when I have to. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  A protest rose in Penny’s throat, but before she could give it voice, Dot spoke.

  “Please, you two. I don’t need to be entertained.” The woman looked first at Penny’s dad, then at Trevor. “I am perfectly happy to stay right here and just be with you. With all of you. I can’t tell you how nice it has been to have these leisurely days.”

  Her dad didn’t look convinced yet.

  Trevor took hold of his mom’s hand at the corner of the table. “Rodney, I can promise you that my mom means whatever she says. We’re going to stick close to the ranch.”

  The tension in Penny’s shoulders released a little, and she was glad she’d remained silent. Her dad didn’t like it when she fussed over him. He’d made that abundantly clear. Still, if he wanted to avoid back surgery, he needed to heed the surgeon’s warnings. That meant less physical labor. He was doing so much better. He didn’t want to mess himself up again.

  Let Trevor help.

  She almost smiled at how her thinking had changed. First she’d hated him and wanted him gone. Then she’d grudgingly accepted his presence. And now . . . now . . .

  As if he knew her thoughts, Trevor looked at her. Their gazes met, and in her mind she once again heard him singing the lyrics from his album. Her stomach tumbled in response. Appetite swept away, she picked up her breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. After a quick scrape and rinse, she put plate, glass, and table service into the dishwasher. By the time she was done, the unwelcome reaction had abated, and she was able to look toward the table again.

  “I’m off,” she said, relieved that both her voice and smile were steady. “Have a fun day, whatever you all decide to do.”

  Her dad said, “We’ll eat dinner early, so come straight home from work.”

  “I will.” With a little wave, she left the kitchen, wishing with every step that she hadn’t listened to Trevor’s CD that morning.

  While Trevor mucked a couple of stalls, his mom and Rodney visited, their voices soft in the dim light of the barn. Trevor grinned to himself as he listened to their easy conversation. They sounded like lifelong friends instead of people who’d been strangers until a few days ago. He guessed that shouldn’t surprise him. Rodney had made him feel the same way from day one.

  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.