After identifying himself, Chet said, “I know this is late notice, but Rodney Cartwright mentioned you might like to join a group of men in a Bible study. We gather on Thursdays at seven o’clock in one of the Sunday school rooms at Meadow Fellowship. I think you may have met a few of the men, in addition to Rodney.”
“Rodney attends? But I thought he went to the Methodist church.”
“Oh, he does. The men in the study attend different churches and a couple don’t attend any church . . . yet. We just happen to meet at Meadow Fellowship.”
Trevor was tempted to decline, but he hadn’t been back to the Cartwright ranch since Sunday afternoon. His second week in Kings Meadow had been busier than expected, getting the hang of his new job and, with the use of his landlord’s telephone, tying up a few unexpected loose ends back in Nashville. Attending the study would be an opportunity to remind Rodney why Trevor had come to Idaho, if nothing else.
“Okay. Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Terrific. Bring your Bible and a notebook if you want. See you at seven.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
After hanging up the phone, Trevor glanced at the clock on the stove. He had better than an hour before he would need to leave. Plenty of time to fix himself a quick supper.
By the time Trevor left his studio apartment, night had fallen over the valley. An inky-black darkness that residents of large cities never experienced. The Christmas lights on Main Street twinkled from lampposts and storefronts, giving the small town a fairy-tale appearance, and he couldn’t help but smile, knowing he’d worked on a few of those light strands this week.
There were four trucks and one minivan parked in the lot beside Meadow Fellowship when Trevor arrived a few minutes before seven. He got out of his pickup, held his almost brand-new Bible to his chest, and hurried toward the entrance. Once inside, the sound of voices drew him in the direction of the classrooms off to the left of the sanctuary.
“Here’s Trevor now,” Chet said upon seeing him.
Rodney Cartwright was the first to shake his hand and begin making introductions to the men already seated in a circle of chairs. As Chet had indicated, a few of them Trevor had met already. Not surprising, he supposed, in a town of this size.
A short while later, with everybody settled into place, the young man—Adam Carlton—who sat opposite Trevor took a guitar from behind his chair and began to strum it while singing. The other men joined in. All of them seemed to know the words to the song. Trevor didn’t, so he was content to listen. At first he found himself critiquing Adam’s performance. The young man’s voice was on key but not strong, and his guitar playing consisted of only a few repeated chords, although that served as enough to keep the rest of the men in tempo.
But as the song continued, Trevor began to listen to the lyrics. They were words of worship and praise, a kind of love song to Jesus. Simple and full of trust. After a while something shifted in his chest. He couldn’t have described the feeling if his life depended on it, but he believed God was in the midst of this circle of men. He closed his eyes, both shaken and soothed by the unexpected encounter.
It’s about Me tonight. No one but Me.
It was Trevor’s own voice he heard in his head, yet the words didn’t feel like his own thought. Once again he had the feeling he was in the presence of something beyond himself. Someone beyond himself.
The song came to an end. With the last chord still reverberating in the air, Chet began to pray. Like the song before it, the words of the prayer were simple, filled with love and trust. Different from the lofty kind of prayers Trevor had often heard in public gatherings. It made him think of Brad. The kid had had a quiet but strong faith. Brad had never hesitated to answer questions anybody asked about his beliefs, and he’d never seemed offended when those asking the questions weren’t quick to agree with him. He hadn’t joined other members of the band in drinking or womanizing as they traveled from gig to gig, and yet nobody had felt judged by him either. How had he managed to carry that off?
Chet’s “Amen” drew Trevor out of his musing. When others grabbed their Bibles, so did he. Chet told the group to open to a chapter in Romans. Trevor was thankful he at least knew Romans was in the New Testament, although it seemed to take him too long to find the right place. The never-opened pages seemed to stick together in groups of twos and threes.
A glance at Rodney Cartwright’s Bible proved the same couldn’t be said of it. The open pages—obviously well read—had many highlighted and underlined passages. Handwritten notes filled the margins: top, bottom, and sides.
Chet began reading the designated passage. Trevor’s translation was slightly different, but he was able to follow along.
As the other men in the Bible study began to discuss the passage in Romans, Rodney remembered something his son had said in one of their last telephone conversations.
“Dad, Trevor’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got a good heart. He’s so hungry for God.”
Rodney glanced toward Trevor and realized that God was already answering the prayer he’d whispered a few days ago. It was as if Brad’s friendship with the singer had been transferred into Rodney’s heart, full and complete. Deep and unexpected affection for Trevor washed over him.
One after another, he recalled things his son had told him, both in e-mails and when they talked on the phone. Mostly stories about Trevor. The kindnesses he had shown toward others. The words of encouragement he’d spoken to Brad. The loneliness that came with being on the road so much of the time. The times Brad had awakened and couldn’t remember what town or city they were in. And eventually, the questions Trevor had begun asking about what Brad believed, about his faith.
Rodney was startled when he heard Chet begin the closing prayer. How had he allowed his thoughts to wander for the entire discussion? Had any of the other men noticed his lack of attention? He feared it would have been hard for them not to notice.
A short while later, as the group began to break up for the night, Rodney turned toward Trevor. “Did you enjoy the evening?”
“Yes.” Trevor shrugged. “I got lost in some of the discussion. I can’t claim to know my Bible well.”
“That comes with time, son.” He put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “And remember, following Christ is a lifelong journey. Christians are foot soldiers, so to speak. Always on the march. Always learning. Always growing stronger.”
Trevor grunted. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” Rodney stood, and his back gave him a painful twinge. He rubbed the sore spot with his left hand.
Trevor noticed. “Sir, I don’t work tomorrow.” He rose too. “I thought I’d come out and help feed the cows and whatever other chores you might have for me. In fact, if you’ll let me, I’d like to help with at least one of the feedings every day. On my days off, I could do more than one.”
It was on the tip of Rodney’s tongue to refuse. But another spasm jabbed his back and he thought better of turning down the offer. As much as he would like to pretend he was a young man with a strong constitution, he could use the help. And if the two of them were to be of help to each other, what better way than spending more time together? “Sure,” he answered at last. “I’d be grateful for your help. Like the old saying goes, many hands make light work.”
“What time would you like me to come over?”
“Penny helps in the morning before she goes to work. Why don’t you come at one?”
“One it is. I’ll be there.”
At the sound of the back door closing, Penny looked up from her knitting, surprised when she saw the time.
“Dad?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He appeared in the living room doorway.
She put the needles and yarn into a nearby basket to protect them from Tux, who delighted in unraveling unguarded knitting projects. “I didn’t realize how late it is. How was your Bible study?”
“Good. But it’s always good.” He entered the living room
and sank onto his recliner with a deep sigh. “Always good to be home too.”
Did he look more tired than usual? “Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m fine. But not sure I’ll manage to stay awake for the news. It’s been a long day.”
He was more tired than usual. “Dad, now that I’m back to work, why don’t you feed the cows just once a day? Or even twice a day.”
“I’ve told you why.” He shook his head. “I’ll go back to a single evening feed for calving season, but for now I want to stick with three times a day.”
“But it’s so much extra work for you.”
Her dad’s expression changed from tired to exasperated. “Pen . . .”
She raised her hands in defeat. “Okay. I won’t say anything more about it.”
“You know what I could really use?”
“What?”
“To see you having a little bit of fun. You should spend your free time with others your own age. Accept some of those invitations you get from your girlfriends. Go to a dance or a movie or just out to eat. You don’t need to sit around with your old dad all the time.”
“I like spending time with my old dad.”
He leaned toward her, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Penny, you should get to be young while you are young.”
Go out. Have fun. Meet a nice man. Go on a date. Fall in love. Get married. Have babies. She heard all of that in her dad’s simple comment. But it felt wrong that she had those options when her brother could never do any of them. Rationally, she knew it wasn’t wrong to want those things. But she couldn’t reason away the feelings. They were inside of her, tangled up with grief and guilt.
With another sigh, her dad rose from his chair. “I think I’ll call it a night after all.” He stepped over to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “Good night, Pen. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad. Sleep well.”
She listened as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. After his door closed behind him, she considered retrieving her knitting once again, then decided against it. She suddenly felt as tired as her dad had looked.
Chapter 8
PENNY LEANED FORWARD FOR A BETTER VIEW OF the computer screen. “There,” she told Bill Carter, seated at the keyboard. “Click on that button.”
“That’s why I couldn’t figure it out.” He chuckled. “It was too easy. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” She straightened and turned away.
The library seemed extra quiet today. Karli Hellman was off on Fridays, Tara Welch was busy shelving books, and there were only three patrons in the building, two of whom were nestled in opposite corners of the stacks, reading books. Only the soft clatter of Bill Carter’s typing on the keyboard broke the deep hush. Penny returned to the back side of the checkout counter and began sorting through the paperwork that never ended.
Sometime later, she felt the whoosh of air that announced the opening of the front entrance doors. A quick glance at her watch told her that over half an hour had passed. She looked up to see Tess Carter leaning down to kiss her dad’s cheek. Then Tess headed straight for Penny.
“Just the girl I wanted to see,” she said, smiling that unforgettable smile of hers.
Penny cocked an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.
“A bunch of us are getting together tonight to play board games at my dad’s house. Totally spontaneous and last minute, and it’s up to me to make sure we’ve got plenty of victims. Er . . . I mean guests.” She laughed at her own joke. “Will you come? Eight o’clock. I promise you’ll have a good time. You’ll know everybody who’s there.”
“Oh, Tess, I don’t know if I—”
“Please. We’d really like you to come.”
“Penny,” she heard her dad say, “you should get to be young while you are young.” And maybe he was right. It had been good to return to work. It had been good to see people at the bazaar. It might be just as good to spend an evening with friends playing silly games. She drew in a slow, deep breath. “Okay. I guess I could make it.”
“Terrific!”
“Should I bring anything?”
“Nope. Not a thing. Got it covered. I’ve already bought enough snacks and beverages to last all night.”
All night?
Tess laughed again. “Don’t look so horrified, Penny. I can’t imagine anybody will last longer than midnight or one. Especially the married ones who have babysitters to pay.”
Penny released a breath.
“Okay. Gotta run.” Tess waggled her fingers in a mini wave, then in an exaggerated whisper tossed in the direction of the public computers, said, “Bye, Dad. See you later.”
By the time the doors closed behind Tess, Penny already regretted her decision to go to the Carter home. She’d never been much into board games, although when she and Brad were young, the family had been known to enjoy some rip-roaring card games. Spoons had been their mother’s favorite.
I could call her and say something came up and Dad needs me at home tonight.
No. No, she couldn’t say that. It wouldn’t be true, and her dad would hate it if she involved him in such a lie. No, she would go to Tess’s impromptu party. She’d kept too much to herself since Brad’s death. Her father was right about that.
Tara Welch pushed a now-empty cart from out of the stacks. When she drew close to Penny, she said, “The returns are all shelved, Miss Cartwright.”
“Great. I’m going into my office to eat my lunch and finish writing my Christmas cards. Call if you need me.”
“Sure thing.”
Penny retrieved her sack lunch from the fridge in the break room—half of a tuna salad sandwich, a dill pickle, a low-fat yogurt, and a diet soda. It didn’t take long to finish her light meal, and as soon as she was done, she got to work addressing envelopes and adding personal notes to the Christmas cards.
She’d planned to skip sending cards this year. But then Christmas greetings from friends far and near had begun to arrive. They’d collected on a side table in the living room, so many filled with words of love and encouragement, until Penny had known she couldn’t ignore them any longer.
Her own words were few: Thanks for thinking of us this Christmas and variations on the same theme. A few times, memories of Brad and their childhood Christmases caused tears to well in her eyes and she had to stop writing while she blinked them away.
Suddenly she was glad she’d accepted Tess’s invitation for tonight. Her dad was right. She needed this. For weeks the preparations for the Christmas bazaar had taken up every spare moment. Now that it was over, she had too much time on her hands, despite her work at the library. She would go tonight and play games and find reasons to laugh.
So help me, I will.
Trevor was just about to leave his apartment when his telephone rang. The sound startled him. It wasn’t like a lot of people had his number. He hadn’t even told his mom yet. And he doubted it was Chet calling again.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Trevor? It’s Tess.”
“Tess?”
“Well, that’s not very flattering.” She laughed airily. “Tess Carter. We met last weekend at the Christmas bazaar. I didn’t think you’d forget me that fast.”
“Sorry. Of course I didn’t forget you. I was just surprised you had my number. The phone’s new.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I hate to be forgotten. And just so you know, I got your number from your landlord. Listen, a bunch of old friends are getting together tonight at my dad’s house to play board games and eat junk food. Eight o’clock. We would love for you to join us.”
“I don’t—”
“You already know at least two of us. Me and Penny Cartwright. And I’m sure you’ve met a few of the others over the last couple of weeks.”
The news that Penny would be present at the gathering gave him pause.
“Please join us, Trevor. You’ll have a good time. I promise.”
He pictured Pen
ny as he’d last seen her, rushing into her office at the library, hurrying to escape his presence. Tess Carter, on the other hand, desired his company. Why not join in? He wasn’t in Kings Meadow to become a hermit.
“Okay,” he answered her. “I’ll come.” He reached for a pen and the nearby notepad. “Give me your address and some directions.”
A short while later, as he drove toward the Cartwright ranch, he wondered why he hadn’t been the one to call Tess during the past week. He had her number; she’d given it to him on Saturday. She was single, pretty, and obviously interested in him. What could it hurt to see if they might hit it off?
When Trevor arrived at the ranch, the two border collies greeted him from the front porch. Just a couple of barks and a pair of wagging tails. Obviously, Fred and Ginger had accepted him into their midst, as had their master.
But will the master’s daughter ever come around? The jury was still out on that one.
He took the steps up to the porch two at a time and knocked on the door.
Rodney answered soon after. “Hey, Trevor. Step inside. I need to get my coat and gloves.” He glanced at the border collies. “Good dogs.”
Fred and Ginger went to their sheepskin beds, coiled in slow circles, and lay down with matching groans. Trevor chuckled as he stepped into the house and closed the door.
“It was good to see you at the men’s study last night.” Rodney pulled on his coat and fastened the front.
“I’m glad I went, sir. First time I’ve ever been in a group like that.” He shrugged. “It was different, but I liked it.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Brad studied his Bible a lot. The guys and I gave him a hard time about it at first, but later on . . .” He fell silent and shrugged again.
Rodney said nothing, just watched and waited.
“He’s the one who bought me that Bible I brought with me.” Not that I opened it much until last night.
There was great patience in Rodney’s eyes, a look that encouraged Trevor to say more, a look that said he was in no hurry to do anything else as long as Trevor might want to talk.
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