Guide Me Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Her chest went tight. “What girls?”

  He shrugged. “Just girls from my school.”

  “Must be real tarts if they let you kiss ’em.”

  He laughed. “They aren’t tarts.”

  She gave him a look meant to say, Yes, they are.

  He shook his head, sighing. “They’re my friends, Cissy. Sometimes friends…kiss.” His thumb moved up and down the inside of her arm. “Have you ever kissed anybody?”

  His touch tickled. “No.”

  “Kissing’s fun. I could show you.”

  She giggled and squirmed free. Her shadow made a funny twirl on the wall. “Huh-uh.”

  “Why not? Because you’re worried I’ll think you’re a tart?”

  Because she didn’t know how to do it. He’d kissed two other girls. What if her kissing wasn’t as good? She flounced to the opposite side of the cave, folded her arms, and stared at her shadow.

  Scuff, scuff—his feet crossing the floor. His shadow loomed up and covered hers. She shivered as he slid his hands around her upper arms and pulled her firm against his frame. His cheek tipped against her temple, and her heart started thumping so hard she worried the photograph might get pushed out of her dress.

  “Cissy?” His breath was warm on her cheek.

  She kept staring at the big, gray, swelling shadow. “Wh-what?”

  “I really want to kiss you.”

  She wanted it, too, but fear of disappointing him made her whole body stiff. She couldn’t move.

  “Cissy?”

  Should she let him kiss her? Just once to know how it felt? Pansy and Burrel had probably kissed by now. And she’d seen Devlin give Bek that kiss on the cheek. Maybe Bek had let him kiss her mouth some other time when nobody was around. The men and women in the magazine serials kissed. Usually right after the man told the woman he loved her.

  Cissy jerked free. She whirled around. With the lantern behind him she couldn’t see his face very well, but she blurted to his shadowy form, “Do you love me, Nick?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She hung her head, defeated.

  Then he took her hand. “Come here, Cissy.” He led her to the farthest corner of the cave, away from the opening, away from the lantern, away from the moist places where the mushrooms grew. With every step toward the dark corner, her pulse pounded harder, faster. Then he stopped and let go of her hand. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her sideways facing him.

  Her breath came so quick and shallow she thought she would faint. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna kiss me. But instead he moved backward, away from her. The slightest bit of lantern light flowed between them.

  He held his hand toward the wall. “Look.”

  Confused, she tore her gaze from his face and looked. Her heart banged around inside her chest. She clapped her hand over her mouth. There on the wall deeply carved, crooked letters made a proclamation.

  NICK LOVES SISSY

  A laugh built behind her hand. So that’s what he’d been doing over here while she picked mushrooms.

  He said, “Can you read it?”

  She nodded.

  He aimed that crooked, eye-lighting grin at her. “What do you think?”

  The laugh came out. “I think you need to learn how to spell my name.”

  His eyebrows shot up. He looked at the wall and then at her.

  “Cissy starts with a C.” She held out her hands and he took hold. The shadow of their arms underlined the wonderful words. “But it don’t matter. I know it’s me.” She moved closer, and “Nick loves Sissy” got covered up by their combined shadow. “You know what else I think?”

  “What?”

  “It’ll be all right for you to kiss me now.”

  Devlin

  Was there a more soothing sound than gently moving water? Devlin didn’t believe so. He reclined on a pack, linked his hands over his belly, closed his eyes, and listened.

  A faint, irregular drip-drip echoed from somewhere ahead, accenting the rhythmic hum of the canoe’s nose plowing slowly through the stream and the steady slice of Tolly’s oars cutting through water. Behind him a second canoe powered by Lee offered harmony to the sweet melody.

  “Devlin, look.”

  Tolly whispered rather than shouted, but his voice intruded on the cave’s song. Devlin frowned, unwilling to break the magic weaving itself around him.

  “You’s gonna miss ’em if you don’ look.”

  Devlin opened his eyes. The lantern swinging from a hook at the front of the narrow craft highlighted Tolly’s grin. The man angled the oars in the water, holding their position, and bobbed his head toward the stream.

  “Most I ever seen of ’em. You seen anything like that befo’, Mistuh College Boy?”

  Devlin rested his fingers on the edge of the canoe and peered overboard. Dozens of fish no larger than his middle finger swam in an intricate ballet. He stared in open-mouthed amazement.

  Lee’s canoe glided up alongside theirs, and the fish frantically darted beneath the rock shelf at the edge of the stream.

  Devlin scowled at the man. “You frightened the fish.” He looked longingly toward the place they’d disappeared. He wished he could have caught one and taken it home to show Father.

  Lee shrugged. “Sorry, Devlin. I’m goin’ on ahead, Tolly. Meetcha at the rock bank.”

  Tolly waved him on. “That’s fine.”

  Devlin swung one arm toward the rock shelf. “Were the fish white?”

  Tolly laughed softly. “ ’Course they’s white. Jus’ like the crickets an’ spiduhs climbin’ aroun’ in the cave. You look hard enough down here in the watuh, you’ll find white crawfish, too.” He took up the oars again and drew them through the water.

  Devlin shook his head, imagining the graceful weaving of the little fish through the water. “Why are they white?”

  “Why shouldn’t they be? Got no cause fo’ coluh down here where it’s always dark. As fo’ them fish, they’re blind, too, in case you di’n’t notice. Don’t even got eyes fo’ seein’. Scientists speculate the fishes had eyes a long time ago, but since they di’n’t use ’em, their eyes went away.” He snorted. “If you ask me, the almighty Creatuh made ’em that way since He knowed they’d spend their lives in the dark an’ would have no need fo’ seein’.”

  The man sighed, the release holding the weight of regret. “I’ve spent some time in this cave wit’ no torch or lantern lit. Only black all aroun’. An’ it’s a lonely feelin’, I can tell you. Like you’s the only one in the whole world.”

  He sliced the water again, and the canoe glided forward. “Now I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ bad ’bout folks who spend their lives without seein’.” Slice. “There is blind people, you know.” Slice. “But them people don’t live all alone. They got othuhs around ’em, talkin’ to ’em, touchin’ ’em.” Slice. “That ain’t the way it is down here.” Slice. “Down here you’s all by yo’self in the dark, not a solitary soul to hear yo’ voice or speak yo’ name.” Slice. “I’m tellin’ you, Devlin, that’s as lonely as lonely can be.”

  Devlin leaned back again but kept his eyes open, watching the play of the lantern light on the moist cave walls and on the water. Little shimmers of gold danced on the rippling surface of the stream, reminding him of the lamplight shimmering in Reb’s eyes. His heart twisted, and the loneliness of which Tolly spoke attacked him with force.

  He wished he’d been able to talk to her last Sunday after the church service, but her father had hurried her family out at the preacher’s final amen. Then Cal Adwell had ushered him off to his cabin for the rest of the day. Devlin and Tolly left early Monday for the cave. They wouldn’t come out again until tomorrow afternoon.

  Curiosity warred with worry in the center of his mind. Did she appreciate his honesty? Or had he dismayed her by stirring a hornet’s nest?

  He sat up with a jolt. “Tolly?”

  The canoe rocked precariously. The lantern swayed on its hook, clanking against the pole. To
lly reached for it, and his rapid movement sent one of the oars over the edge of the little craft. Devlin snatched at the length of wood, but it drifted away, carried by the steady flow. Tolly captured the lantern’s base and held it. They both remained as still and unmoving as the Appalachian Mountains until the canoe balanced.

  Then Tolly raised one eyebrow. “Hope whatevuh it was you needed was worth all that. ’Cause now I only got one oar. Gonna be a lot harduh to make this boat go upstream wit’ only one oar.”

  Devlin cringed. “I’m sorry, Tolly.”

  The guide shrugged. “Watuh’ll carry us backward some but oughta take us to the edge. Then the two o’ us can catch hold o’ the wall. Lee’ll start missin’ us an’ come huntin’. We’ll lash the canoes togethuh an’ go on. Might be a while o’ waitin’, though. Hope you ain’t in no hurry.”

  He wouldn’t complain, no matter how long they had to wait, since his foolish action had put them in the predicament.

  “While we’s driftin’, wanna tell me what you was gonna ask?”

  He’d never met a more patient soul than Tolly Sandford. “You’re friends with Reverend Haynes from the Good Spring church?”

  “Ain’t nevuh thought o’ him as Rev’ren’. He’s just Buck to me. Used to swing on scuppernong vines when we was boys an’ go wadin’ in the creek togethuh. Him an’ me, we go way back.”

  Devlin squirmed. “Did you, um, see him before we set out Monday? Did he, uh, talk to you about…”

  Tolly chuckled. “Fo’ a college boy, you sure havin’ trouble spittin’ out words. Yep, Buck come to see me Sunday aftuhnoon and tol’ me you got folks in his church all wound up. Whole bunch of ’em stayed aroun’ aftuh service an’ pestered Buck to no end, some frettin’ an’ some settin’ their prices.” He shook his head. “What’re you up to, boy?”

  The canoe bumped against a rock ledge. They both lurched to steady it. Devlin sucked in a breath, scrambling. Cold water filled his gloves. His fingers slid along the slick rocks. On his third attempt he managed to catch a crevice and keep his grip. Tolly clung to a rock shaped like an old man’s nose. The canoe stilled. In unison they filled their lungs and released the air.

  Devlin started to answer Tolly’s question, but he stopped when the older man’s brows shot downward into a stern V and he jutted his neck forward, seeming captured by the rock wall. “What is it?”

  “Hold on tight.”

  Devlin dug in his fingers, his pulse thumping in apprehension.

  Tolly kept one hand clamped on the rock nose with his thumb in a nostril and pushed his other hand into the gap between two rock ledges. The canoe tried to slide sideways, but Devlin gritted his teeth, dug his knees into the canoe’s side, and kept it secure. When Tolly pulled his hand free, he held a canteen. The initials T S were scratched into its tin side.

  Devlin frowned. “Is that yours?”

  “It sure is. But I di’n’t put it there.”

  “Then how—”

  “This be the canteen that got took when you, me, an’ Reb left our packs in Annetta’s Dome.”

  Cissy

  “Here you are, Cissy. I have today’s pay ready.”

  She turned from releasing Beau into his stall and held out her hand. Mr. Temperance dropped the coins into her palm. Two quarters, a dime, a nickel, and a penny. She stared at them, waiting for the tickle in her tummy to strike. Nothing happened. She closed her fingers. The coins were warm from his pocket, but they didn’t flood her with warmth. So she squeezed them. Squeezed hard. But happiness didn’t flow through her like it used to. She’d even lost her pleasure in earning money.

  She sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Temperance.”

  He cupped her chin and lifted her face. “What’s gotten into you this week? Sunday you were nearly euphoric.”

  She scrunched her nose.

  “Overjoyed,” he said.

  Sunday…when Nick carved the most wonderful words in the world on the cave wall and kissed her lips until they felt chapped. She pressed her fingertips to the photograph resting against her heart. Yes, she’d been overjoyed.

  “And Monday you were practically giddy.”

  “Huh?”

  The photographer chuckled. “I mean you were so happy you could hardly stand still.”

  “Oh.” That fit, too.

  “But Tuesday you arrived with a frown, and you’ve worn it for three days in a row.”

  She might never lose her sadness. First she lost Devlin to Reb. Then Pansy to Burrel. And now Nick to…who? She must have lost him to someone because after Sunday night, he’d stayed away from her.

  Mr. Temperance pulled one of her braids. “Do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?”

  She hung her head. “It ain’t nothin’ you can fix.” She must be the worst kisser in the whole world for him to change his mind about loving her after he tasted her lips.

  “Well, I have an idea.”

  She angled her head and peeked at him through her eyelashes.

  “Take some of the money you’ve earned and buy yourself something pretty. A new dress or even some hair ribbons. I’ve never known a girl who didn’t get perked up from getting something new.”

  Cissy chewed her lip. She had enough saved up for the outfit in the catalog. But orders took so long to come. She might fade away from sadness before it got to her. “Where’m I gonna get something new?”

  He grinned. “Do you have your money with you?”

  She held up her hand. “Just this.”

  “That probably won’t be enough, but I’ll lend you extra.” He took her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “Let’s go, Miss Woeful, and we’ll restore you to Miss Sassy.”

  Rebekah

  Rebekah helped Mrs. Marrett from Jefferson County remove the flannel bloomer she’d donned to protect her silk dress from the “vile elements of the underground.” From the time they had boarded the wagon for the two o’clock tour until they emerged from the cave, the woman had delivered a steady stream of complaints punctuated by sharp sniffs that drew her nostrils inward in a very unattractive manner. Now, aboveground, she was still unhappy.

  “Such an ungainly costume. Why, it’s Bohemian in appearance.” She flailed her arm, entangling herself in the fabric. “And wretchedly hot now that I’m in the sun. Couldn’t we have dispensed with this ridiculous uniform in a less sunny place?”

  Rebekah gently unwound the twisted sleeve and slipped it free. “I brought you to this sunny spot because you said you were cold when we were in the cave.”

  “I was cold in the cave, young”—she flicked a tight-lipped glare over Rebekah’s clothes and sniffed—“woman. That is no longer the case.”

  Crit ambled over. “You ’bout got her unraveled, Reb?”

  She suspected he meant the woman’s nerves as much as the costume. She almost sniffed. If Mr. Marrett, her husband of more than forty years, hadn’t succeeded in calming her during the tour, how could Rebekah be expected to accomplish it? She forced a smile and a stiff nod. “Just about.”

  “Soon as you’s done, we can head back to the hotel.” He sauntered up the rise.

  Mrs. Marrett sniffed. “Insufferable man. Exceedingly officious. Give his kind an ounce of authority, and they—”

  The only insufferable person in the vicinity was Mrs. Marrett, but Rebekah wouldn’t say so. She wadded the bloomers in her hand and headed for the rise. “Come along now, ma’am. The wagon is waiting.”

  She and Crit deposited the guests at the drop-off point. Mrs. Marrett was still haranguing her husband as the pair walked away. Crit shook his head. “An’ there goes the reason I didn’t nevuh take a wife. Women.” He snorted. “Nobody can grumble an’ gripe as good as a woman.”

  Rebekah could have told him he was being as narrow minded as the wealthy woman from Jefferson County who’d spoken ill of him based on the color of his skin, but then he might accuse her of griping. She grabbed the edge of the seat and leaped to the ground. “See you at supper, Crit.”

&nb
sp; “Sure thing, Reb. Go ream all that complainin’ out o’ yo’ ears now.”

  She laughed and waved as the wagon rattled off. Then she headed across the lawn, fingering the tips in her pocket. The bottom of her coin can was filling up again. Daddy would be pleased when she told him about the fifty-cent piece Mr. Marrett gave her when she escorted his wife to the wagon. He probably would have paid more if she’d lost Mrs. Marrett in the cave. Giggling, she tossed the large coin in the air and caught it again as she made her to way to her cabin.

  She topped the rise leading to the staff cabins and stopped, frowning. A woman stood on the edge of Rebekah’s stoop, seemingly trying to peek through the window. None of the guests had ever visited her cabin. The woman was likely trying to find Devlin. The thought made her stomach clench. The temptation to tell the woman Devlin was gone and never coming back poked her, but she wouldn’t succumb. She would send her away, though. Her cabin wasn’t going to become his meeting place for girls he encountered at the hotel.

  Closing her hand tightly around the half dollar, she broke into a trot. The woman turned to face the yard, and Rebekah stopped again, her mouth hanging open. That was no woman. It was Cissy.

  Her sister’s face lit with a smile. She waved her arm back and forth like a flag. “Hi, Bek!”

  Rebekah stumbled forward, unable to believe her eyes. Where had Cissy found such a lovely frock? Rebekah let her gaze rove from the rounded collar to the puffy sleeves ending just below Cissy’s elbow in a snug narrow cuff fastened by a pearl button. The ivory blouse puffed, too, with a wide ruffle of lace lying across the bosom, and the waist cinched in before flaring into a matching full skirt that ended at Cissy’s bare ankles. She swallowed a giggle. Her sister was barefoot.

  Cissy met her at the edge of the porch. She held her arms out and twirled. The skirt flared, and the lace flounce at her chest lifted and fell like a butterfly coming to light. “Whatcha think? Am I purty?”

  Rebekah’s heart swelled. Cissy had always been pretty with her delicately shaped chin, big blue-green eyes, and thick red-brown hair falling like a curtain down her back. She nodded. “You’re…exquisite.”