Guide Me Home (37 page)

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. Tolly 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

“
H
ere 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.”

“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.”

“Gonna hafta tell me what that means.”

“You're beautiful, Cissy. Truly beautiful.”

Cissy beamed and rotated her hips, making the skirt sway. “Thank you, Bek. I've been waitin' for you. To show you my new dress. An' to see if you could pin up my hair—make it look like a real lady's hairstyle.”

Rebekah gave a leap onto the stoop and unlocked her door. “I'd be glad to, although if you're going to pass for a lady, you'll need shoes.”

Cissy made a face, but she laughed as she followed Rebekah into the cabin. “They didn't have shoes at Hunt's store. Didn't have very many dresses, either, but Mr. Temperance picked this one out. Said it was the most”—she wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, then held up her finger and grinned—“sophisticated one there. That means grown up.”

Rebekah paused in clinking the tip money into the can on her bureau. “Did Mr. Temperance buy that for you?”

“Uh-huh. I paid some of it. I had sixty-six cents.” She crinkled her nose again, giggling. “Half o' that was s'posed to go to Daddy, but I'll make more tomorrow an' pay him back. Folks line up from here to Lexington to get their photographs made. Good thing, too, 'cause I gotta take money out o' what I've set aside at home an' give it to Mr. Temperance. I owe him a dollar fifty-nine.”

Rebekah gaped at Cissy. “Your dress cost a dollar fifty-nine?”

“Nope. Two twenty-five.” She simpered and fiddled with the end of her braid. “But it's almost as nice as the ones those Ross twins—Daphne an' Delphinia—wear every day. I'm tellin' you, Bek, it's worth every penny.” Smiling, she smoothed her hands on the skirt.

Rebekah shook her head. “I hope so. That's a lot of money.”

“I know, but when Nick sees me in this, he's bound to—” Cissy sashayed to the table, then plopped down on one of the chairs. “You gonna pin up my hair or not?”

Her sister's tone changed so quickly Rebekah wondered if she'd suddenly transformed into Mrs. Marrett. “Y-yes, sure, Cissy. Let me get my brush and pins.” She gathered the items from her drawer and crossed to the table.

Cissy fingered the edge of Devlin's map, giving it a serious perusal. “What is this?”

“Devlin's map. Don't touch it.”

Cissy pulled her hand back but didn't shift her gaze even when Rebekah began unraveling her braids. “How come he keeps it here?”

“This is where he works on it.”

Cissy jerked her face toward Rebekah. “In your cabin?”

She nodded. “Turn around and hold still.” She didn't add “be quiet,” but Cissy must have decided Rebekah needed silence to focus on her hair, because she didn't say another word until Rebekah had finished brushing her long hair and pinning it into a fat bun. She pulled a few tendrils loose to soften the stark style, then led Cissy to the small mirror hanging on the wall.