Guide Me Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

“Here now.” The gentleman took hold of her elbow and gave a little tug.

  She jerked free and tried to wriggle between him and the rock. “Leave that be.”

  He stopped with his hand halfway to the rock. “Let me help you.”

  “You sure you ain’t gonna help yourself to my money?” It wasn’t really her money, but he didn’t have to know that.

  His forehead pinched like she’d hauled off and kicked him in the shin. “Of course not. But the way you’re trembling, you could lose even more. See what’s left, and let’s determine how much has been lost.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds, uncertainty holding her captive. But those blue eyes of his won her over. No man with such pretty eyes could be dishonest. “All right.” Aware of him watching, she lifted the coins one at a time and kept a careful count, determined not to make a mistake. “Twenty-five, fifty, sixty, seventy, seventy-five, eighty-five, ninety-five, a dollar, dollar twenty-five, dollar thirty-five.”

  “You’re very good at ciphering.”

  Warmth flowed through her. She ducked her head and giggled. “Thank you.”

  “How much did you have to start with?”

  Cissy chewed her lip. “A dollar fifty-five.” That meant she’d dropped a dime and two nickels. Daddy’d likely take that amount out of her hide when she admitted what she’d done. And she’d have to admit it because Bek would be there on Sunday, and sure as Mama made jelly out of crab apples every fall, Bek would brag about her tip money. Cissy blinked back tears.

  “Well, here.” The man stood and pushed his suit coat aside to reach into his trouser pocket. He offered her a silver quarter.

  She gaped up at him. “Y-you’re just gonna gimme that?”

  “If I hadn’t startled you, those coins would still be on the rock.”

  “But…but…” She couldn’t imagine having so much money a person could just give it away without a thought. He must be rich.

  “Since the loss of the coins is my fault, allow me to replace them.” He cupped her hand and slid the coin, warm from being in his pocket, onto her palm. “There. Now all is well.”

  Cissy stared at her fist, her mind racing. She’d lost only twenty cents, but he’d given her twenty-five. That meant she could keep five cents of the mushroom money, and nobody would ever know. Maybe she could come back here tomorrow and find the dime and nickels, and then she’d have a whole twenty-five cents that was all her own.

  Warm fingers caught the underside of her chin and lifted her face. She looked up at his smile, and her heart started such a thump-thump she feared she would faint dead away.

  “Have I restored your happiness, little one?”

  Could a person melt from a tender gaze? Slowly Cissy nodded, her breath caught in her throat.

  “Good.” His fingers slipped away and he moved toward the path. “I’ll leave you to your musings. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Her breath whooshed out. She dug in her pocket for a nickel and slipped it into her shoe. Then she grabbed up the basket, and with her apron pinched tightly in her fist so no coins would bounce out, she raced for home.

  Devlin

  Pattering footsteps enticed Devlin to peek over his shoulder. The girl who’d been absorbed in dreamland beside the creek raced up the pathway as fleet as a deer. He smiled. Wasn’t she a cute little thing? He recalled her big searching eyes and winsome expression. Never having had younger siblings, he enjoyed playing big brother now and then. His brief encounter with the hills girl refreshed him more than a drink from a cold mountain stream.

  He made his way toward the hotel, comparing the two encounters he’d had with young ladies that day. Rebekah Hardin had demanded his help when she’d fallen, and the little hills girl had demanded him to leave her alone. When offered money Miss Hardin refused, but the girl beside the stream, once she recovered from her shock, eagerly pocketed his coin. He believed if he’d held out a dollar coin, she would have taken it. An interesting contrast.

  Not that it mattered. Girls, to his way of thinking, were confusing creatures, innately tuned to wreak havoc on the hearts of men. Mother continually tried to push the daughters of associates and friends at him, but he hadn’t succumbed to a female’s charm yet. And he wondered if he ever would.

  He snagged an unfurling leaf from a sumac and twirled it between his fingers as he continued along the winding pathway. If he pursued cartography as he intended, he would spend a great deal of time traveling. A wife might enjoy accompanying him for a while. Until children began to arrive. Then she’d want to nest. And she’d want him in the nest with her.

  Father had given up his wandering ways when Mother entered her confinement with Devlin. Then, after he was born, Father began teaching at a private boys’ school and eventually at the college. Sometimes, when a train whistle cut through the air, Devlin caught his father gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes, and he experienced a twinge of guilt for having been responsible for nailing Horatio Bale’s feet to the floor.

  But if Father secured the position as senator, he’d travel again. Now that Devlin was grown and capable of caring for himself, Mother could go with him. A whole new chapter in their lives waited to be written, and this massive cave and its lovely surrounding area would provide the paper and ink.

  He stepped from the woods onto the grassy stretch behind the hotel. Dusk was near, the sky changing to pale yellow with smudges of pink. Devlin ambled past a pair of teenage boys who tossed a ball back and forth and a circle of little girls playing ring-around-the-rosey. On the observation deck, several couples watched the sunset or the children at play. The men curled their arms around the women’s waists or the women held the men’s elbows. Each pose spoke of companionship, possessiveness, and affection. Oddly, jealousy pinched.

  He shifted his attention to the boardwalk and followed it to the dining room, determined to set aside the peculiar emotion. But it swept over him again when he entered the room and discovered more couples and families sitting at the linen-draped tables.

  The host approached Devlin with a smile. “Are you ready for dinner, sir?”

  For reasons he didn’t understand, his appetite had fled, but he knew he should eat. By morning he’d be ravenous. He nodded.

  “Follow me.” He led Devlin to a table in the corner and gave him a paper menu. “The waiter will be with you soon. May I bring you something to drink? A bottle of wine or a pot of tea?”

  “Tea, please.”

  The man scurried off. Devlin tried to read the menu—it contained some marvelous choices—but loneliness pressed on him, inviting him to examine those who sat in pairs or groups.

  The waiter set a steaming pot and a cup and saucer on the table. “Have you made a selection, sir?”

  Devlin laid the menu aside. “What do you recommend?”

  “The pork loin with cherry sauce and steamed greens seasoned with onion, mushrooms, and slivered almonds has been very popular this evening.”

  Even though he’d never been particularly fond of pork, he said, “That sounds fine.”

  The waiter picked up the menu and turned to leave.

  “By the way…”

  The waiter turned back.

  “If you need to seat someone else with me, please feel free to do so.”

  The man smiled and flipped his hand. “That won’t be necessary, sir. The early diners have come and gone. We’re rarely crowded at this time of night.”

  The reply disappointed him. He didn’t look forward to an entire summer of dining alone. “Well, just in case, I’m willing to share.”

  The waiter smiled again and then hurried off.

  Devlin poured tea into his cup and lifted the aromatic liquid to his mouth. He sipped, letting his gaze rove across the room. He hadn’t expected to see so many children at the cave already. School was still in session. But he supposed families had come for a weekend outing, something to entertain the youngsters now that spring and pleasant weather had arrived. The weekdays would probabl
y be less busy, which hopefully meant more time in the cave. He didn’t mind taking the summer to complete his drawings, but he wouldn’t complain if he finished early and ended up with a few free weeks to engage in his own activities before his final year of college began.

  A family with six children, two older boys and four girls ranging in age from perhaps five or six years to eleven or twelve, entered the dining room. The host escorted them to a long table, which accommodated six diners, and began transferring chairs from another table. The husband scowled, shaking his head. He spoke to the host in hushed tones, but Devlin didn’t need to hear to know the man was complaining about being forced to scrunch together.

  The waiter hurried over and whispered something in the host’s ear, gesturing toward Devlin. The host held his finger to the unhappy gentleman and then marched across the room to Devlin.

  “Sir, Harry said you were willing to share your table. Is this correct?”

  “Yes.” At that moment the youngest girl of the family began stomping her feet and pounding the air with her fists. Devlin hoped the host wouldn’t ask to put her with him.

  “Both of our longest tables are in use, and none of the tables available comfortably accommodate eight chairs. May I have the McGowen boys join you?”

  Devlin sent a quick look at the family. The two boys stood beside the table and angled their gazes away from the little tantrum thrower. Devlin sensed their embarrassment from the distance of twenty paces. “Of course.”

  “Thank you very much, sir.” The host bustled off again.

  Moments later Harry escorted two dark-haired youths to Devlin’s table. “Mr. Bale, please meet Thaddeus and Trevor McGowen. Thaddeus and Trevor, this is Devlin Bale, who is here as part of his senior project at the University of Kentucky.” The pair nodded politely. The waiter turned to Devlin again. “Thaddeus will be a student at the university next year, and Trevor hopes to follow in three years when he’s finished his rudimentary studies.”

  Devlin held out his hand, and both boys gave him a firm shake before seating themselves, Thaddeus at Devlin’s left elbow and Trevor across the table. Harry promised to bring each of the boys water and then darted back to their parents’ table.

  Thaddeus grinned. “Do you feel like an open book?”

  Devlin raised one eyebrow, uncertain.

  He jabbed his thumb toward the waiter. “Harry knows everything. I think he listens at all the tables and saves the information so he can gossip with the other guests.”

  Devlin laughed. Harry had been able to provide more than names as an introduction. “Maybe we should guard our conversation then, hmm?”

  Both boys grinned.

  Devlin took a sip of his tea. “Is this your first time at Mammoth Cave?”

  Trevor snorted. “Our father has brought us here the third weekend of May since 1895. It’s a family tradition.”

  Devlin hid a smile. Trevor’s pimply face and overgrown knuckles gave mute testimony to his age. Ah, the gawky teenage years. Devlin remembered them well. “What’s wrong with traditions?”

  “Nothing when they don’t mean sharing a cottage with your bratty little sisters.”

  Thaddeus bumped his brother on the arm. “It’s not that bad. During the day we do what we want to, away from Father and Mother and the girls. And it’s only one weekend a year.”

  Trevor huffed. “And you’re leaving home next fall, so you’ll never have to do this again. Next year I’ll be stuck here alone with Daisy, Penelope, Lulu, and—”

  A piercing screech rent the air.

  Mr. McGowen plucked the youngest girl from her chair and scurried out of the dining room with her bucking in his arms.

  “Sadie,” the two chorused.

  Trevor propped his chin in his cupped hands. “A fate worse than death.”

  Thaddeus and Devlin both laughed.

  Devlin asked, “What parts of the cave have you explored?”

  The three of them spent a lively hour visiting. Despite the years separating them in age, Devlin enjoyed talking with Thaddeus and Trevor, and before they parted, he promised to meet with them Sunday afternoon and show them his waywiser and other cartography equipment. He left the dining room with a lighter step than he’d used going in, bolstered by the time of conversation. But when he rounded the corner toward the cottages and encountered a young couple sauntering along the boardwalk hand in hand, their moon-eyed gazes pinned on each other’s faces, the jealousy he’d experienced earlier returned in a rush.

  He sidestepped around them and closed himself in his cabin, away from any other couples, away from families, away from nosy staff members. If his attitude didn’t improve tremendously in the next few days, it would be a very long, lonely summer.

  Without invitation an image of Rebekah Hardin flashed in his memory. Hadn’t Tolly said they’d spend hours of each day in the cave? Rebekah, as the guide’s assistant, would be there, too. He smiled. Maybe not so lonely after all.

  Rebekah

  After donning men’s baggy britches and shirts for six days in a row, wearing a full-skirted, snug-bodiced dress seemed foreign. But Mama would have fallen over in a dead faint if Rebekah entered the Good Spring Chapel attired in anything but a dress, so she tugged at the rounded neckline to give her throat a little space. She’d be in her comfortable clothes again tomorrow.

  “So remember, good brothers an’ sisters in the Lawd,” the preacher thundered from his spot behind the tall pulpit, “we must avoid engagin’ in drunkenness.”

  How could they forget? He’d already told them three times before this reminder. Beside her on the oak bench, Cissy fidgeted. Rebekah battled the urge to wriggle, too. Preacher Haynes tended to repeat his points—Daddy called it “beating a dead horse”—until it took great effort not to yawn or start woolgathering.

  She glanced to the far end of the bench where Daddy sat next to Mama. She caught him peeking at his old, faithful timepiece. She hid a smile. Daddy was ready for the service to end, too. He caught her looking, and he gave her a weary look that made her want to giggle. But nobody giggled in church. Except for the littlest kids, and they were promptly shushed or hauled to the outhouse for correction. She wouldn’t set a bad example. She turned to the front and managed to at least give the pretense of attention until the closing hymn.

  They mingled in the churchyard for a few minutes, catching up with friends and neighbors, and then Mama grabbed Daddy’s arm. “Let’s head for home, Festus. These children need fed.”

  “Yes, Nell.” Daddy scooped up Little Nellie and settled her on his hip, then turned a smile on the other girls. “You heard your mama. Let’s go.”

  They moved in a swarm out of the churchyard and onto the winding road. Sunshine and shadows painted the dirt road with splashes of yellow and gray. Daddy, with Little Nellie toying with his ear and Mama at his side, walked down the middle of the road, his strides wide and sure. Trudy and Tabitha darted back and forth in front of Mama and Daddy, hopping from sunspot to sunspot. Their giggles competed with Della’s and Jessie’s endless chatter. The pair gently swung their hands between them as they moseyed behind their parents.

  Rebekah automatically fell to the back of the group. When she realized what she was doing, she chuckled. For years she’d led her sisters, but after one month of going last, it now seemed the natural thing to do. Her dress felt unnatural. Being in the lead seemed wrong. How could such a short time make so many changes?

  Cissy scuffed along just ahead of Rebekah, stirring dust with her toes as she went. With everyone else in pairs, she seemed lonely, and Rebekah’s sympathy rose.

  She trotted up beside her, then slung her arm across her sister’s shoulders. “Would you like to pick mushrooms this afternoon? I could take them to the cook for you when I go back to the estate.”

  Cissy scowled. “You think I can’t do it good enough?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why’re you tryin’ to do it for me?”

  Sharp words formed on Reb
ekah’s tongue, but she held them back. She wouldn’t engage in an argument with Cissy. Not when they would have only a short time together. And especially not on Sunday. Sunday should be a day of peace and rest.

  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to come all the way to the estate. It’s a long walk.”

  “Not that long. Besides, it gets me away from home an’ Mama fussin’ at me an’ the little girls pullin’ at me for a little while. It’s the one chore your leavin’ got pushed on me that I actually like.”

  Cissy’s retort pierced Rebekah, but she forced a smile and gave her sister’s shoulders a little squeeze. “Then you keep doing it. And when you bring the mushrooms to Mr. Cooper, stop by my cabin and say hello. It’ll help me not feel so alone.”

  Cissy sighed and shrugged away Rebekah’s arm. “Don’t know how you can be alone with all those people stayin’ at the hotel. You get to have all the fun.” She darted past the others and jogged around the bend leading to their lane.

  The smell of roasted meat drifted all the way from the house to the road. Rebekah’s mouth watered, and she hurried her steps to join Mama and Daddy.

  “What’re you cooking, Mama?”

  “Your daddy bought a leg of lamb from the Ritters.”

  They purchased such delicacies only for birthdays and holidays. Had she forgotten a special occasion?

  While she pressed her memory, Daddy set Little Nellie on the ground. Swinging the little girl’s hand, he grinned at Rebekah. “Your mama’s quite the temptress. She brought the fire down to coals an’ put that leg in the roastin’ pan last night. I almost went out an’ had me a snack at midnight, it smelled so good.”

  “The last of our taters an’ carrots from last year’s garden are in the roaster, too.” Mama looked happier than Rebekah could remember in ages. “We’ll have us a fine Sunday dinner today thanks to you.”

  Rebekah touched her bodice and raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

  Mama stopped at the base of the steps. “We couldn’t have bought the leg o’ lamb without that money you sent with Cissy.” She waved her hands at the girls, who chased each other around in the yard. “C’mon now, you gals, an’ get in here. That lamb’s been slow-roastin’ all night. Much longer an’ it’ll be tough as boot leather. Cost a whole fifty cents. We don’t wanna waste it.”