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 her 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.