Guide Me Home (30 page)

She gulped, her gaze dropping to the handkerchief she worried in her fingers. “We…my family…we don't talk about him. It's too hard for Mama. And thinking about him only”—she swallowed—“hurts.”

The backs of Devlin's pant legs were getting soaked. He shifted to lean against the wall beside her, bringing himself more securely beneath the sheltering eave. “When my grandfather died, the whole family gathered, and we took turns telling our favorite memories of him.” A smile of fond remembrance tugged at his cheek. “I was only twelve, but I recall how good it felt to talk about him, to share how important he'd been to all of us. It eased the pain of losing him.”

Devlin licked his lips and lowered his voice to a rasping whisper. “It might help ease your pain to talk about your brother instead of hiding him away in the corner of your heart.”

She jerked her gaze to his. Her eyes snapped, no longer swimming with tears. “Did you kill your grandfather?”

Devlin drew back. “Of course not.”

“Then your loss isn't the same as mine. I'm not only grieving. I'm guilty. And guilty is even harder to bear.” She jammed the handkerchief into his palm, whirled, and clattered up the boardwalk and around the corner.

Reeling from her unexpected vehemence, he couldn't make himself go after her.

Footsteps scuffed up behind him. “She gone?”

Devlin turned his worried scowl on Cal. “Yes. She's very upset.”

Cal sighed. “I know. But she left half her dinner in there. Waste of a dollar an' ten cents.”

Devlin's jaw dropped. He'd never encountered a more callous individual. “I hardly think the cost is as important as Reb's—” Should he say
grief
or
guilt
? He wished he understood what she'd meant. He fully faced Cal. “You said Andy got lost in the cave. Was Rebekah with him?”

Cal shrugged. “No. He was in there by himself. Why?”

If she'd accompanied him, become separated somehow, and he'd died, then her guilt would make sense. He shook his head. “It doesn't matter. Will you go talk to her?”

“Why? Won't change the fact that Andy's dead an' he ain't comin' back. 'Bout time she accepted it.” Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, squinting at the gray sky. “Don't look like this rain's gonna let up. I might as well head on home.” He sighed, his breath carrying the scent of fish and ketchup, a nauseating combination. “Wish I'd brung a jacket or hat. Don't much like getting wet from head to toe. But there ain't no other way of it.” He angled a glance at Devlin. “If you wanna see the cave I told you about, come on out to my place sometime.” A calculating gleam entered his eyes. “Might wanna put it on your map.”

Cissy

C
issy paced the narrow space between beds in her sleeping room. She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Daddy'd sent her in after their lunch as a punishment. Most times she wanted the room to herself—wanted privacy for dreaming or thinking or just being. But she also wanted to make the choice to be alone, not have it forced on her. How humiliating to be banished to solitude. Daddy was downright cruel sometimes.

The rain fell and fell and fell, pattering against the roof and the closed shutters. When would it ever stop? Daddy was right about Mr. Temperance not being able to take photographs today. Who'd want to stand outside and get all wet? Even if the people didn't mind a soaking, Mr. Temperance wouldn't risk ruining his camera. He babied that Seneca City View camera like it was a living creature. As much as he liked her, if she and the camera fell in the river, he'd go after the camera instead of her, and that was a fact.

She plopped onto the edge of the bed and hugged herself, bouncing her heels against the floor. Seventeen people had signed up to sit on Beau today and pay their quarter for a photograph, but she didn't worry about them. Mr. Temperance would find a way to fit them in during the week. She'd get her money by and by. But she'd never be able to make up the lost time with Nick.

She growled and jabbed her fists in the air. He'd go to the barn just like he promised at five o'clock, but she wouldn't be there. Because Daddy wouldn't let her.

Pop-pop-pop
exploded from the front room, and a cheer rang out. Cissy whirled toward the sound, her mouth watering. Mama was making popcorn. Cissy loved popcorn, all crisp and snowy. She liked it best in a glass with milk poured over it. They were probably fixing the treat just to torment her.

Daddy's chuckle rumbled. “Here now, settle down. Mama'll serve up that popcorn when it's ready. Lemme get this fairy-tales book open. Seems like we read ‘Rapunzel' already, so we're ready for ‘The Three Little Men in the Wood.' ”

“Are there three little men in the woods behind our house, Daddy?”

He laughed, and Cissy held back a snort. Trudy didn't understand what
tale
meant. If Cissy wasn't in disgrace, she'd be able to tell her little sister that a tale was a made-up story. She pictured them out there, gathered around the fire, munching popcorn and listening to the story written by the Brothers Grimm. She growled. Wasn't fair how they—

An idea swooped in, setting her heart to pounding.

Daddy'd told her to stay in her room, and he'd told the little girls to stay out. For the whole day. That meant she had hours stretching in front of her when not a one of them would pay her any mind. She could probably go all the way to Alaska and back without anybody noticing. But she didn't want to go to Alaska. She only wanted to go the Mammoth Cave estate.

She squeaked the door open a crack and peeked out. Sure enough, they were all gathered on the rug watching Mama shimmy the covered pot back and forth over the flaming logs. Daddy held the open book on one knee and Little Nellie on the other. For a moment her heart caught. They all looked so happy together. Something deep inside of her wanted to sit with them, feel the fire's warmth, smell the popcorn, and hear Daddy's voice saying all the pretty words from the fairy-tales book. Would they maybe look up and say, “Come on, Cissy”?

She waited, watching, listening, holding her breath, but no one looked toward the bedroom door. No one called out her name. She clicked the latch and turned toward the pair of closed shutters above her bed. She'd slipped out the window before. Never in the rain, though. Raindrops would come in and wet the pillows and quilt. When Della lay down, she'd probably complain, and then Mama and Daddy would ask how the bed got wet, and Cissy'd be in trouble all over again.

Her heart
bump-bumped,
thinking about stirring their wrath. She'd suffered through two bad scoldings already for staying out past dark. Did she want to hear another one? Then she thought about Nick's smile, how good it felt to rest her cheek against his chest, the way he talked to her like she was all grown up and not a kid to be bossed around.

She had to see him. She had to see him today.

Cissy scampered up on the bed, cringing when the springs twanged, and peeled back the shutters. Raindrops spattered her face, but she scrunched her eyes to slits and clambered out the window. She hit the soggy ground heels first. Her feet went out from under her, and she fell flat on her bottom. The cold and wet soaked clear through to her skin, but she stayed still for a moment, listening for somebody to come see what she was up to. Nobody came, so she scrambled to her feet and took off through the trees.

Rebekah

Rebekah couldn't remember the last time she'd cried so hard. Harder even than the day they laid Andy in the ground. She must have shed as many tears as raindrops already, and just as the rain continued to fall, so did her tears.

Some of the tears were for Andy, some for Mama, some for herself, and a few even for Devlin because he'd tried to help her and had failed. They poured down her cheeks in rivulets until her skin felt raw, her head ached, and she was too exhausted to hold herself erect.

She curled up on her bed and pulled the quilt around her. The cabin was dark and held a chill, but the quilt's embrace offered a touch of comfort, just as Devlin's arms had. She covered her sore eyes with her arm and willed the deep pain inside to ease. Only that morning Preacher Haynes had declared God forgave the most heinous of sins. Losing her temper with her brother and shooing him off to a place where he couldn't find his way out was worse than heinous. Could God forgive even that?

A tap at the door brought her upright. Still clutching the quilt like a shield, she said, “Who is it?”

“Tolly, Reb. Need to talk to you 'bout tomorruh's tours.”

Groaning, Rebekah rolled from the bed and padded across the floor. She cracked the door just enough to peek through with one eye. “What about it?”

“I'd rathuh talk to you inside. It's plumb mis'rable out here.”

Rain ran in little streams from his hat, and his hands were buried in his jacket pockets. Even his white beard dripped water. She couldn't leave him on the uncovered stoop. She moved back, opening the door at the same time. “Come on in.”

The sound and smell of rain washed into the cabin. He stamped his boots before stepping over the threshold. He stayed just inside the door where anybody passing by could see. “Gonna cancel all o' tomorruh's tours. Road's gonna be a slick, muddy mess, an' folks won't wanna—” His thick eyebrows descended. He leaned forward, squinting at her. “You sick?”

Hugging the quilt more tightly around her frame, she shook her head. “No, sir.”

“But yo' face is all red, yo' eyes is full o' watuh, an' you's bundled up like an Injun on a wintuh night. If you ain't sick, then what's the mattuh?”

She offered a weak shrug and sat in one of the chairs by the table. She slipped one hand free of the blanket and toyed with the corner of Devlin's neatly written notes lying out where he'd left them. “I guess I'm having a sad day, Tolly.”

The man grabbed a chair and settled it with its legs butting against the raised threshold. He eased into the seat, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Seems on a day like this a gal should be singin' an' dancin'.”

She searched her memory, but she couldn't find anything of importance. “What's so special about today?”

“I run into Cal Adwell when he was drivin' off 'bout a hour ago. He tol' me to expect to see him comin' around 'cause you two is fixin' to start courtin'.”

“Oh, Tolly…” She slunk low.

“Was that s'posed to be a secret?”

“Not a secret. A misunderstanding. Cal wants to court me, but I don't want to be courted. Not by him.”

Tolly's lips pursed, his whiskers splaying. “S'pose you's still thinkin' Devlin'd make a good catch, is that it?”

“Tolly!” She jerked straight up and glanced out the window, but no one was out. She sank back in relief. “Don't say such a thing.”

“ 'Cause it ain't how you feel?”

She wouldn't lie. “Because it isn't possible.”

He nodded adamantly. “You's right 'bout that. Oh, now, Devlin's a good man an' all. Reckon he'll make a real fine catch fo' some city gal. But if you an' he was to match up, one o' you would hafta make a awful lot o' changes. I don't reckon he'd be willin' to give up his city life, an' you's a gal o' the hills. You'd wither up an' die in the city. No, you'd be bettuh off lettin' Cal Adwell call on you. You an' him—you's two o' the same kind.”

Tolly wasn't making her feel any better. She pressed her chin to her shoulder and muttered, “I don't want to be courted by Cal Adwell.”

“There some reason why not?” Tolly's tone held an edge. “Did you fib when you tol' me he didn't do nothin' to you on the road the othuh mo'nin'? Did he—”

Rebekah shook her head. “He hasn't done anything to me.” He hadn't done anything for her, either, except brag about how he would inherit his parents' land soon. Realization bloomed. “I think the only reason he wants to court me is so I can do the farming for him. Cal is lazy, and he doesn't have even a portion of Devlin's compassion.”

Anger struck with force. She jolted to her feet and flung the quilt aside. “Cal talked about Andy as if it didn't even matter that he was gone. When I couldn't hold back my t-tears”—she gulped, tears flooding her eyes again—“he didn't try to comfort me. He just went on eating his trout and ketchup.”

Tolly made a horrible face. “Trout an' ketchup?”

“The food was more important to him than my feelings. But Devlin left his plate behind and came after me. Devlin dried my tears. Devlin held me.” A sweet tingle tiptoed up her spine, soft as the fall of raindrops on the roof. She sank into the chair and gazed into Tolly's dark, shimmering eyes. “I know now it's folly to think about being courted by Devlin. It might be the most foolish notion in the whole world. But I can't help thinking about it. He…he moves me, Tolly.”