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.”
Tolly blinked, his eyes fixed on her face. “You thinkin’ you’s in love wit’ him?”
“I don’t know. But I feel more deeply for him than anyone ever before.” She hung her head. “If this is love, I’m not sure why poets write about it. It isn’t nearly as beautiful as it is painful and confusing.”
“Mebbe ’cause you’s feelin’ it fo’ the wrong puhson.”
She frowned. Shrugged. “Maybe.”
Tolly stayed quiet for a few seconds, working his lips back and forth. Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’s thinkin’ it’s a good thing you’s stayin’ abovegroun’ while he’s goin’ in the cave. Time apart’ll give you time to get yo’ feelin’s straightened out again.”
Rebekah nodded sadly.
“Bettuh yet, since we ain’t runnin’ tours tomorruh, mebbe you should go home, talk to yo’ mammy ’bout Cal an’ Devlin an’ which o’ the two makes mo’ sense fo’ you. Reckon she could advise you bettuh than this ol’ man who ain’t nevuh done no courtin’.”
Awareness jolted her. “If there aren’t any tours tomorrow, will the guides still be paid? I—I need every penny of what I’m earning.”
Tolly straightened. “Ain’t yo’ fault the rain’s comin’ down. You’s drawin’ a salary, Reb. You’s goin’ get ever’ bit o’ yo’ twelve dollahs at the end o’ the month.”
She blew out a breath, her spine collapsing again.
He shook his head, chuckling. “I think you’s needin’ a rest, gal. Yo’ mind’s so cluttuhed up you cain’t think straight.”
She managed to corral her thoughts well enough to form another question. “How many months will I be able to work here, Tolly?”
He scratched his cheek. “If you don’t choose courtin’ ovuh earnin’ a wage, the tours’ll go ’til end o’ Septembuh, middle o’ Octobuh. Depends on how quick the cold sweeps in.”
A sigh heaved from her lungs. “Oh, good.” In six months she’d earn over seventy dollars. “I’ll be able to buy Andy’s headstone for sure.”
Tolly put up his hands, frowning. “I thought you was buyin’ a stone fo’ yo’ sick mama. Ain’t that what you tol’ me when you come lookin’ fo’ a job?”
She nodded. “It is for Mama. She wants a headstone for Andy so badly it’s making her sick inside.” Tears welled, stinging her eyes. “She can’t set aside her mourning until his grave has a marker that will last. That’s why I’m working here. To buy a stone for Andy. And to help Daddy put a fence around our cemetery. He called it his legacy.”
“If it’s his legacy, how come you’s the one earnin’ the money fo’ it?”
What would Tolly say if she told him the truth? She pushed the words past her dry throat. “Because I sent Andy off to the cave. I was mad at him. I was trying to read, and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I told him to get lost. And he did.”
“You tol’ him to go get hisself lost in the cave?”
Agony writhed through her. “I didn’t mean for him to. But he did. And he…he never came back home.” She swallowed, another wave of sadness rolling through her. “I’ve never taken one single book from the library wagon for my own pleasure since then, either.”
For long, silent seconds Tolly gazed at her without speaking. Then he rose, unfolding his joints so slowly he resembled a flower opening its petals. “So you’s sacrificin’ yo’self to appease yo’ guilt?”
She gulped. “I…I…”
He slid his hands into his pockets and drew in a breath that expanded his chest. “I know lots about appeasement. Hired you on here to appease my guilt ovuh leavin’ yo’ family short one son. Been keepin’ a close watch on you out o’ a sense o’ appeasement, fearful o’ owin’ yet anothuh debt to yo’ folks.”
Conflicting emotions roared through Rebekah’s chest—appreciation for his concern, amazement that he, too, carried guilt over Andy’s death, and em-barrassment that he’d hired her not because he found her worthy of the task but because he’d discovered a way to pay a debt. A debt he didn’t owe. “Tolly, you—”
“Lemme ask ya somethin’, Reb. Wouldja have took this job if you didn’t feel guilty ’bout yo’ brothuh dyin’ in the cave? Wouldja have spent yo’ hours some othuh way if Andy was still livin’?”
She chewed her lip, unwilling to explore how things would be different if Andy were alive.
“Befo’ you give up makin’ a future o’ yo’ own, give some good thought to what you’s doin’. Sacrifice is a hon’rable thing unless it’s done fo’ the wrong reasons.” He turned to the doorway and his face lit. “Why, lookee there. The rain done stopped while we was talkin’. Clouds’re clearin’. Oughta have sunshine tomorruh. That’s good. That’s real good.” He bobbed a grin in her direction and ambled out the door.
Rebekah crossed to the threshold and peered out at the gray, water-soaked landscape. It would take more than one day of sunshine to dry up the effects of the rainstorm. And it would take more than one day of sunshine to chase away the dark blot of guilt binding her spirit.
She gulped back a sob and whispered, “Andy can’t ever come back. Will a headstone really make things better?”
Cissy
The rain finally stopped but not before she’d gotten as wet as if she’d taken a dip in the creek. Cissy huddled in the stall with Beau, shivering and waiting for Nick. He’d promised, so she knew he’d be there. She hoped she’d be dry by the time he came. Otherwise he might be so put off by her soggy appearance he’d never want to set eyes on her again.
She curled on the clean hay, knees drawn up and arms folded over her ribs. The smell of hay and moist earth filled her nose—a sweet smell. Beau munched from his feedbox, the crunch-crunch as steady as the tick of a clock pendulum. As she listened to it, Cissy’s eyelids grew heavy, heavy, and slid closed. When a warm palm cupped her jaw, she gave a shriek and scrambled to escape.
Nick sat on his haunches in front of her and laughed.
This time she didn’t much like the sound of his laughter. Her pulse still pounding, she plastered herself to the stall wall and glared at him. “You like to scared me outta ten years’ growth. Why’d you sneak up on me that way?”
He stretched to his feet, still grinning. “I didn’t sneak. And I said your name twice before I touched you. You were deeply asleep.”
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Almost six.”
“Six?” She bolted to her feet and plunked her fists on her hips. “You were s’posed to meet me at five. I was gonna head for home by six.”
Nick’s grin faded to a frown. He scratched Beau’s ears. “I had to finish my chess game with my father. He and I play every Sunday afternoon.”
If she didn’t make it back by dark and the little girls told Mama and Daddy she was missing, she’d get a whipping for sure this time. She scowled and tossed her braids over her shoulders. “Ain’t you a little old to be playing games with your daddy?”
He took a step out of the stall. “Look, Cissy, if all you’re going to do is grumble, I’ll return to my cabin and—”
She flew at him and grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t go. I’m sorry.” She put on her best begging face. “I’m always a little cranky when I first wake up.”
He raised one eyebrow. “A little?”
She tittered. He was teasing now. “Well, maybe more’n a little. It’s just that I got all wet comin’ over here—”
His gaze roved from her head to her bare toes and up again.
“—an’ then I waited so long for you that I fell asleep.” She hugged herself. “I was lonely. An’ sad. An’ it all came out wrong.”
A slow smile grew on his cheek. “All right, Cissy. I forgive you.”
She beamed at him.
He chuckled, looking her up and down again. “And you really are a mess.” He began plucking little bits of hay from her hair while she slapped at the wrinkles in her damp dress. “I planned to introduce you to my parents today, but—”
“Your parents?” If he wanted to show her off to his folks, he must really like her.
“Yes, but I think it’s best to wait until you aren’t so disheveled.” He shook his head. “The next time you decide to take an afternoon nap, I hope you choose some place other than a burro’s stall. You look a sight and smell awful.”
“Nick!” She slapped his chest. “That ain’t nice.”
“Well, you ain’t smellin’ nice.”
He grinned. She grinned. They both laughed.
Then he blew out a rueful breath. “My parents expect me for dinner at six thirty, so I can’t stay.”
“Aw, but, Nick…”
He touched her chin with his knuckles. “You should head home, anyway. Get yourself out of those wet clothes and warm up. I wouldn’t want you to come down with a cold.”
Her heart expanded. He was so thoughtful.
“My brother and I are going to hike with a few other fellows tomorrow morning, but our afternoon tour has been canceled because of the rain. I’ll have the whole afternoon free if you want to meet at the end of your shift.”
She nodded eagerly. “Sure. Right here?”
“Right here.” He pointed to the s
pot of ground between them.
She giggled. From now on, every time she stepped over that patch of ground, she’d think of Nick. “All right. See you tomorrow.” She tipped her head, fluttering her eyelashes. “An’ Tuesday? An’ Wednesday? An’—”
“Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.” He grinned, winked, and ambled out of the barn in his easy, confident gait.
Cissy released a little squeal of happiness. “He wants to see me every day, Beau!” She smacked a kiss between the burro’s eyes and then ran the whole mile home.
When she reached the house, light still sneaked between the cracks of the shutters on the windows of the main room, but the bedroom windows were black. Either nobody was in the room or Daddy’d already put the little girls to bed. Her heart pounding, she crept up to the house. When she stood beneath the window, she heard her folks and sisters singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” She smiled. The bedroom was empty.
Using an upside-down barrel as a step, she managed to boost herself up high enough to grab the window ledge. Then she pulled herself in and fell onto her bed. The springs twanged something awful, but her family was singing loud enough to cover claps of thunder. Nobody came to investigate.
She breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled out of her dress. She wadded it up and shoved it under the bed, then felt her way to the bureau for a nightgown. On tiptoe, she returned to the bed and reached to turn down the covers. Her fingers encountered damp fabric. She huffed. As she’d feared, rain had come through the open window and dampened both pillows and the edge of the quilt. She chewed her thumbnail for a minute, thinking. Then she turned the pillows over and flipped the quilt the opposite way. Now Della wouldn’t notice. Giggling at her cleverness, she started to climb into bed.
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