Guide Me Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Her brown eyes snapping, she stretched one hand toward him. “Well? Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open, mister, or are you going to help me up?”

  Rebekah

  Tolly bounded to her side, coins flying in every direction, and gripped her hand between his. “Lawsy, Reb, is you all right?”

  Truthfully, her head throbbed and her tailbone ached. But she’d never admit it. Not with the handsome gentleman with soft-looking curls the color of spun honey peeking from beneath the brim of his hat and eyes bluer than Daddy’s gazing down at her. She struggled to sit, but the bulky jacket and the stabbing pain in her back hindered her. “I’m fine. Just get me up before anybody else sees me here like a turtle on its back.”

  The gentleman bent down and gripped the shoulders of her jacket, lifting, while Tolly pulled her hand, and within seconds Rebekah stood on wobbly legs. She touched the knot forming on the back of her head and grimaced. Great-Granddaddy’s hat hadn’t provided much of a cushion.

  “You sure you’s all right?” Tolly looked as worried as a mother hen. “Mebbe I oughta take you to the estate doc, getcha some analgesic powduhs.”

  Rebekah glanced at the guest, who hadn’t budged from his spot near her left elbow. She wanted those analgesic powders, but she didn’t want to seem like a crybaby to Tolly. Or to the handsome stranger. So she tossed her head, making her hair flow over her shoulders, and forced a dry laugh. “Nothing damaged but my pride.” She angled a look at the guest. “You can move on now. The performance is over.”

  “Reb!” Tolly gawked at her.

  Rebekah couldn’t recall ever being so snide with someone. Especially someone she didn’t even know. But this man’s steady perusal was making her skin crawl. Or, more accurately, her flesh tingle. The reaction frightened her more than the unexpected tumble had.

  A grin twitched at the corners of the man’s lips, bringing a dimple into play on one smooth-shaven cheek. He stepped past Rebekah and held his hand to Tolly. “I believe I should introduce myself since you and I will be spending quite a bit of time together. I’m Devlin Bale from the University of Kentucky.”

  Rebekah retrieved her hat and jammed it onto her head while Tolly gave Mr. Bale’s hand a thorough pump. “Yessuh, yessuh, Mistuh Janin tol’ me awhile back you’d be comin’ an’ that I was to take good care o’ you when you got here. Glad to make yo’ acquaintance, Mistuh Bale.”

  “Call me Devlin, please.”

  “All right, I will. An’ you call me Tolly, same as ever’body else does.”

  “Thank you, Tolly.”

  Rebekah stood to the side and rubbed the base of her spine with both palms. She was probably going to be black and blue back there.

  Tolly began gathering up his scattered coins. “ ’Course, Mistuh Janin, he done said you likely wouldn’t be arrivin’ ’til summuhtime. So I had end o’ May or beginnin’ o’ June in my head to watch fo’ you. But maybe the city colleges don’t go as long as the schools in these here parts?”

  Mr. Bale chuckled, a low rumble that sent butterflies dancing through Rebekah’s stomach. “My professors allowed me early dismissal to begin my project. I apologize if my untimely arrival causes you any inconvenience.”

  Tolly pocketed the last of the coins and stepped back onto the boardwalk, grinning. “No, suh, no inconvenience at all. I’ll jus’ let the othuh guides know they gots to pick up my tours ’til you finish yo’ business. Me an’ Reb”—he gestured her forward—“we’ll take good care o’ you, Devlin.”

  Devlin turned his smile on Rebekah. Everything inside of her went fluttery. That bump on the head was affecting her more than she’d first realized. He removed his hat, bringing his thick, curly hair into full view. “Reb…Is that short for ‘Rebel’?”

  Rebekah’s face flamed. She ducked her head.

  Tolly laughed, slapping his knee. “You’s a card, Devlin, that be fo’ sure. Rebel jus’ might fit my ’sistant, seein’ how she’s decked out like a man an’ bound to be stubborn headed. But no, this here is Rebekah Hardin. She only just hired on, finishin’ up her first full month. She’s done a right fine job, too, keepin’ ever’body movin’ along, even if she is jus’ a slip of a girl.”

  Tolly’s praise made her cheeks burn even hotter. She inched away from the men. “Tolly, I’m going to my cabin. I need to put my hair up again.” She must look a sight with her stringy locks straggling down from Great-Granddaddy’s hat.

  “Getcha some lunch, too, an’ then meet me back here at one thuhty fo’ the two o’clock tour.” He pointed at her with his thick, blunt-tipped finger. “An’ aftuh that you catch some rest. Don’t want you ovuhdoin’ aftuh that thump you took on the noggin.”

  “Yes, sir.” She limped in the direction of the staff cabins.

  Behind her, Devlin Bale’s smooth voice called, “It was good to meet you, Miss Rebel. I look forward to working with you.”

  Another flock of butterflies broke free and flittered through her chest. Her back and head throbbed with every clop of her boots against the ground, but Rebekah broke into a trot anyway. Devlin Bale was too handsome, too sure of himself, and too rich for the likes of a squatter’s granddaughter, and she needed some time alone to remind herself of those facts.

  Devlin

  Why had he poked fun at her name and laughed at her? Any fool—and Devlin had never been called a fool—could see she was hurting by the way she pressed her hand to her back and moved stiffly. He’d behaved worse than a grammar school boy who strove to gain attention from a girl by punching her on the arm or stealing her hair ribbon. The next time he saw Rebel—Rebekah—Hardin, he’d make a sincere apology and hope she accepted it.

  He turned from observing Miss Hardin’s departure and caught Tolly Sandford scowling at him. Distrust glimmered in the man’s dark eyes.

  Devlin cleared his throat. “I, er, was on my way to the dining room. I suppose I should hurry on before they close the buffet.”

  “Reckon so.” He folded his arms over his thick chest. “Just so y’know, none of us on staff take our meals wit’ the guests.”

  “So…”

  “So don’t be lookin’ to eat wit’ Reb.”

  Devlin feigned surprise. “Why would I look to eat with Miss Re—Miss Hardin?”

  Tolly raised one eyebrow.

  Devlin straightened his shoulders and adopted the authoritative pose his father used in front of his classroom. “When will you be ready to accompany me to the cave? If you need a day or two to make arrangements, I’m not averse to waiting.”

  The man scratched his cheek. “Well, this bein’ Friday an’ tomorruh Satuhday, an’ the day aftuh that Sunday, when nobody goes to the cave, mebbe we should plan to start our workin’ togethuh on Monday. That be agreeable to you, Devlin?”

  By Monday his equipment would be here, and he’d be able to enjoy a couple of days exploring the grounds surrounding the estate. He smiled, relieved the man had regained his friendly demeanor. “Perfectly agreeable.”

  “Good, good. I’ll settle things wit’ the othuh guides this evenin’, an’ Monday mornin’ we’ll git started with yo’ mappin’. Mistuh Janin tol’ me you’d likely take up the whole summuh, so sooner we git to it, the bettuh fo’ you.” He shrugged, grimacing. “Gonna hafta be mindful o’ the othuh tours, though—can’t be interferin’ wit’ the pleasure o’ the payin’ guests. Mistuh Janin, he be real firm wit’ me about that. So we need to stay outta the way o’ groups comin’ through or set out afore the tours start an’ then go in again in the early evenin’ when the tours be done fo’ the day.” He squinted one eye. “You opposed to risin’ early, Devlin?”

  “How early?”

  “First tour goes in at nine o’clock. So to beat ’em in an’ out I’d say…mebbe…seven’d be good.”

  He’d have time to eat breakfast before entering the cave. He nodded. “Seven sounds fine.”

  “All right. You see that buildin’ right there?” Tolly pointed to a nearby two-story struct
ure with a railed observation platform on the flat roof. “Me ’n’ Reb’ll meet ya at the no’theast cornuh at seven Monday mornin’. You evuh been in a cave befo’?”

  Devlin shook his head.

  “It’s somethin’, I’ll tell ya that. Mysterious. Mesmerizin’.”

  Excitement quivered through Devlin’s limbs. Tolly’s statement combined with everything he’d read about the underground world made him itch to catch the next tour and witness every detail for himself.

  Tolly sent a look up and down Devlin’s length. “Them clothes o’ yours are mighty fine fo’ goin’ to dinnuh an’ such, but you’s gonna need traipsin’ clothes—like what Reb an’ me is wearin’—fo’ down unduh the ground. You got traipsin’ clothes?”

  Devlin held back a groan. Why hadn’t he thought about bringing something other than suits? Neither he nor Father had considered that the inside of the cave would be dirty. But his letter from the cave’s trustee had indicated laundry services were available. He’d choose his oldest suit and make it his “traipsing outfit.” He nodded.

  Tolly continued to stare at him with one eye squinted. “Sturdy walkin’ boots? Warm jacket? Gloves? An’ a hat other’n one meant for a dandy?”

  Devlin’s scalp prickled. He happened to like his homburg.

  “Not tryin’ to aggravate ya, Devlin. I’d be no sort o’ guide if I di’n’t tell you how to be prepared.”

  His irritation melted. He should appreciate the older man’s straightforwardness. “Thank you for the warning. Is there a place to purchase clothing on the estate?”

  “Hunt’s sto’. That’s where most o’ us git our supplies an’ such.”

  “Are guests allowed to shop there?”

  “Don’t reckon the sto’ owner’d refuse yo’ money.”

  Devlin nodded. “Very well. I’ll acquire a heavy jacket, gloves, and a suitable hat before Monday’s excursion.”

  Tolly’s face broke into a smile, his teeth a slash of white between his full pink lips. “Good, good. Now you go fetch yo’self some o’ that buffet food. Me an’ Reb’ll see you first thing Monday mornin’.”

  Cissy

  Cissy pinched the crust from her cheese-on-brown-bread sandwich and threw the pieces into the bushes for the birds. Mama’d have a fit if she knew Cissy was wasting food, but the dry crust stuck in her throat. She glanced at the open magazine draped across her knees, and her mouth watered for tiny cucumber sandwiches cut into pretty shapes and served on a china plate all painted with roses, like the ones the ladies in the serial illustration were enjoying.

  Pansy ambled over and plopped down next to the log Cissy used as a seat. “Ain’t you finished readin’ that thing yet? My mama’s been pesterin’ me to bring it home again.”

  She wasn’t finished, but maybe she shouldn’t read Vogue anymore. The articles and pictures only stirred her dissatisfaction. Cissy slapped the magazine shut and handed it to her friend. She took a nibble from her sandwich and gazed across the school ground. The same kids she’d known her whole life sat in little circles, eating biscuits or sandwiches or cornbread wedges from battered tin pails. They all laughed and talked, happy and content. Cissy’s stomach soured. She didn’t belong here.

  She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “Pansy, you ever notice how I look?”

  Pansy stuck a pickle slice in her mouth and giggled. “Kinda hard not to notice, since you an’ me been sittin’ together every day of school since we was little.”

  Cissy scowled. “That’s not what I mean. Look at my sisters.” She waited until Pansy shifted her gaze toward Della, Jessie, and Tabitha, who sat jabbering with a passel of other girls. “Do I look like them?”

  Pansy stared for several minutes across the ground, then turned to Cissy and shrugged. “You all wear calico dresses. You all have braids.”

  Cissy held back a huff. Sometimes Pansy didn’t have any more sense than a goose. “I’m not meanin’ our clothes or how we wear our hair. Don’tcha see? They have brown eyes an’ brown hair. Look at me.” Pansy stared intently into Cissy’s face. “Do I look like them?”

  “Nope.”

  Cissy sat back, smug. “Didn’t think so.”

  “What does it matter?”

  This time Cissy let the huff come out. “Matters a lot, Pansy Blair. ’Cause I’m for certain sure I’m not a Hardin.”

  Pansy crinkled her nose. “Cissy, sometimes you talk nonsense.”

  “It ain’t nonsense.” She dropped the uneaten sandwich in her pail, slipped from the log, and settled close to Pansy with her legs crisscrossed. “I been thinkin’ on it a lot. My mama an’ daddy just don’t seem to take a shine to me. Not like they do to the others. An’ I don’t look like any of the rest of ’em.”

  Pansy gaped at Cissy. “What’re you sayin’?”

  “I’m sayin’ I think my mama an’ daddy aren’t really my mama an’ daddy. I think they took me in instead o’ birthin’ me. An’ I think they wish they hadn’t done it.” Every day since Bek had moved to the cave estate, all Cissy’d heard from her folks was how she couldn’t do anything right. Her sisters fussed at her, too, wanting her to sing or pray or play like Bek.

  Hurt welled up inside of her. As mad as she got at her sisters and her folks, the idea that they didn’t really want her stung more than she wanted to admit. “I’m leavin’, Pansy. Goin’ off on my own, someplace where I’ll be wanted an’…an’ loved.” Her chest ached. “Really, truly loved.”

  Pansy pushed the copy of Vogue and her lunch pail aside and threw her arms around Cissy. “I don’t want you to go, Cissy. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

  Cissy hugged Pansy, then pulled away. She sniffled and rubbed her hand under her nose. “You’re my best friend, too. That’s why I told you.” Then she glared at the freckle-faced girl. “But don’t you tell a soul, Pansy Blair, you hear me? If my daddy gets wind I plan to set out, he’ll lock me in the cellar.”

  Pansy’s green eyes widened. “He’d do that?”

  “To keep me around to tend to chores, he sure would.” A bald lie. But Pansy believed it. And the threat should keep her from spilling the secret to anybody else.

  “When’re you settin’ out?”

  “Dunno yet. Gotta set my hands on some money first. But soon.”

  Tears flooded Pansy’s eyes. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” Cissy leaned sideways and bumped her shoulder against Pansy’s. “But I gotta do it. I can’t stay. Not with people who don’t really want me around.”

  Pansy slipped her arm around Cissy’s waist. “Will you write to me? Let me know where you settle?”

  Cissy rolled her eyes. “If I do, my folks’ll find out where I am an’ might come after me. I gotta keep my whereabouts a secret, Pansy.”

  Tears slipped down Pansy’s cheeks. “I don’t think I can stand you goin’ away an’ never knowin’ where you went. Please write to me? I won’t tell nobody where you are. I promise.”

  Cissy gritted her teeth together for a minute, thinking. “Oh, all right. Soon as I’m settled, I’ll send you a picture postcard. I won’t write nothin’ on it, though. You can look at the picture an’ figure out where I am, but if there ain’t no words, nobody will have to know it came from me.”

  Pansy threw her arms around Cissy and squeezed. “Thank you, Cissy.”

  She wriggled. “You’re welcome, but let go. People are gawkin’.”

  Pansy giggled and released her hold. “Sorry.”

  Cissy smiled at her friend. “It’s all right. Nice to know somebody’ll miss me.”

  More tears spilled past Pansy’s freckles. “Oh, I will, Cissy. I’ll miss you ’til my dyin’ day. Won’t nobody ever be as special to me as you are.”

  For a moment Cissy considered changing her mind and staying put. She hated to break Pansy’s heart.

  “Maybe we should exchange keepsakes. Just so we remember each other.”

  Cissy frowned. “Whaddya mean?”

  “Well�
��” Pansy tapped her chin. “My mama hides a little paper box in her underwear drawer. Inside it she’s got a lock of hair tied with a ribbon that came from her first beau. She said she gave him a lock of her hair, too, and they swore to keep it forever so they’d never forget each other.”

  Cissy couldn’t imagine timid Mrs. Blair ever having a beau besides Mr. Blair. “Your daddy don’t mind that she keeps it?”

  Pansy hunched her shoulders. She glanced quickly right and left and then whispered, “He don’t know it’s there.”

  Cissy drew back.

  Pansy nodded, her expression knowing. “I ain’t never told a soul. It’s a secret between you an’ me, all right?”

  Seemed like lots of people had secrets. And keeping Pansy’s secret was a good way to make sure Pansy kept her secret. “I won’t tell nobody.”

  “If you’re gonna go away, we should exchange something. Something that’ll remind us of our friendship an’ how special we are to each other.”

  “I don’t wanna cut off any of my hair, Pansy.”

  Pansy laughed and smoothed her hand over her wavy blond locks. “Neither do I.”

  The teacher stepped out on the platform and pulled the rope for the bell. The girls picked up their lunch tins, looped arms, and ambled toward the schoolhouse.

  “I’m gonna think on it,” Pansy said, “an’ you think, too.” She squeezed Cissy’s arm against her ribs. “Don’t you go until we’ve exchanged our keepsakes, all right?”

  Cissy couldn’t go until she’d sneaked some money from the tin in the cupboard, and that could take a while. “All right.”

  Rebekah

  Rebekah held the torch high and to the right, away from her head and away from any of the tourists who moved in a throng in front of her, their gazes roving the rock walls. Analgesic powders dispensed by the estate physician—how nice to have a doctor at her beck and call—had eased the pain in her head and back, but her shoulder ached from the weight of the folded wad of flaming birch bark tied around the pine pitch. She traded arms and angled the ball of fire to the left.