Guide Me Home Read online

  “I know, I know.” Cissy glared at her image in the cracked mirror hanging from a nail in the wall and smacked the brush through her tangled lengths. “Just once, though, couldn’t we do somethin’ fun on a Saturday instead o’ doin’ chores? Couldn’t we hitch up the mule an’ drive over to Sutherland Pass, maybe choose some fabric for a new dress or ribbons for our hair?”

  Trudy crowded near, looking up at Cissy with shining eyes. “Or striped candy sticks.”

  “Candy,” Little Nellie echoed, wonder blooming on her cherubic face.

  “An’ gumdrops!” Tabitha added. The trio of little girls licked their lips as if tasting the sweet treats.

  “Yeah.” Cissy turned her glare on Rebekah. “We didn’t even get candy in our Christmas stockings this year. Just nuts an’ some ol’ wrinkly apples.” She thrust the hairbrush into Della’s hands. “Just once couldn’t we have somethin’ special?”

  Rebekah pinched a strand of Cissy’s hair, which was two shades lighter than that of the other Hardin sisters, between her fingers and gave a gentle tug. “Special costs money, Cissy. Extra money is rare. Daddy and Mama would love to treat us to something special, but times being what they are, they can’t. So we have to be patient and understanding.”

  Cissy jerked free. She folded her arms over her chest and pursed her full lips into a pout. “Ain’t fair, Bek. Why can’t we be like them families that go to the hotel an’ pay to climb down inside Mammoth Cave?”

  Rebekah cringed. How could Cissy forget the pain that cave had caused their family? She started to command her sister to never mention Mammoth Cave again, but Cissy hurried on.

  “Those folks seem to have money to do whatever they please.” She slapped at a patch sewn to the skirt of her faded dress. “You wouldn’t see none o’ the girls from those families wearin’ worn-out hand-me-downs an’ tyin’ their braids with old shoelaces.”

  Her tawny-brown eyes pensive, Tabitha caught Rebekah’s hand and swung it. “You reckon those girls do chores all day on Saturday, Bek?”

  Cissy was planting seeds of rebellion in the little girls’ heads. Rebekah needed to snatch them out before they took root. “Chores are part of everybody’s life, Tabby. Otherwise nothing would get done.”

  Cissy snorted. “Betcha they all have maids an’ such to do their work.” She tossed her thick ponytail over her shoulder. “I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t gonna spend my life pickin’ hornworms off tobacco leaves. I’m gonna have money—lots of it. An’ I’m gonna wear store-bought dresses an’ let my maid scrub the floor an’ cook my meals.”

  The younger girls gazed at Cissy in open-mouthed fascination. Rebekah stepped between them and Cissy and snapped out a snide question. “And just where are you planning to get all this money, Miss High-and-Mighty?”

  A wicked gleam entered Cissy’s eyes. “There’s ways. But I ain’t gonna tell you what they are.” She flounced out of the room.

  Jessie put her fists on her hips and cocked her head. “What’s she talkin’ about, Bek?”

  Rebekah shook her head at the eleven-year-old. “Never you mind. Cissy’s always full of ideas that don’t come to much.” She sent a frown across the assembly of freckled faces. “Tabitha, why haven’t you put on an apron? Get one from the trunk. Trudy, come here and I’ll braid your hair. Della, put that brush to use on Little Nellie’s tangled mess. If we don’t get to the table soon, Mama’s gonna throw our breakfast out the back door to the chickens.”

  To her relief, her sisters obeyed without argument. While she plaited Trudy’s fine, soft hair, she pondered Cissy’s declaration, “There’s ways.” Rebekah had found one way—selling the mushrooms that sprouted at the mouth of the cave on their property to the cook at the Mammoth Cave Hotel. He paid her five cents a pound for the white mushrooms. Daddy was always happy to drop the coins into the old coffee tin that held their savings, no matter how paltry the amount. Maybe there were other ways she could bring home money from some of the rich guests who stayed at the cave’s hotel and paid to tour the cave’s dozens of tunnels.

  The bedroom door burst open. Cissy scowled into the room. “You gals comin’ or not? Mama’s about to have a conniption fit.”

  Rebekah waved her arms the way a mother hen flapped her wings and herded her little sisters out the door. “Come on now, let’s go.”

  Daddy, wearing familiar striped overalls and a homespun blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled above his elbows, already waited in the chair at the head of their Granddaddy-built plank table. Cissy, Della, and Jessie clambered onto the bench on his left, and Rebekah slid in with Little Nellie, Trudy, and Tabitha on Daddy’s right. Mama thumped the kettle, its bottom blackened from hanging over the fire, onto the table and then sagged into the remaining chair. Everyone joined hands and Daddy asked a blessing on the meal.

  At Daddy’s “amen,” Mama jammed a wooden spoon into the kettle. “Hand me your bowls. It’s comin’ up on eight o’clock already. Mornin’ll be gone before we know.”

  While Rebekah ate, a plan formulated in her head. After breakfast she’d take Daddy aside and ask him about talking to the cave owner about some sort of job beyond selling mushrooms. Her heart gave a hopeful flutter. If she snagged a job—a decent, good-paying job—she could maybe buy the headstone Mama wanted so badly for Andy. Then maybe, just maybe, their smiling, humming, ever-peaceful mama would come back to them.

  Rebekah

  Before Rebekah’s mush was half gone, Daddy pushed his empty bowl aside, swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood. “Thanks for breakfast, Nell.” Every day, every meal, Daddy thanked Mama for the food.

  Mama nodded. “Did you get your fill?” Her customary question.

  “To the top.” His customary answer.

  Across the table, Cissy rolled her eyes. Rebekah knew what her sister was thinking—Why can’t things be different? But Rebekah liked the familiar routine. Liked the security it offered. Even if she had to quench her thirst for learning by borrowing books from the library wagon that rolled through their community twice a month, she was satisfied with her simple life. Except for Andy no longer being in it.

  Daddy cleared his throat. “Jessie, help your mama with the dishes.” His gaze shifted as he addressed his gals by turn. “Cissy an’ Della, you two get the hoes from the toolshed an’ chop all the weeds from the garden plot for your mama. We’ll need to be puttin’ seeds in the ground before long. Tabitha, the floors need a sweepin’ an’ scrubbin’—you give ’em a good one. Even in the corners.” His expression turned tender when it fell on Trudy and Little Nellie. “Leastuns, you drag all the quilts an’ beddin’ off the beds an’ make a pile by the fireplace—help your mama with the washin’ today. Can you do it?”

  Trudy swung her feet and beamed with importance. “I can do it, Daddy.”

  “Do it, Daddy,” Little Nellie added.

  “Good.”

  Cissy sent a sour look across the table. “What about Rebekah? What’s she gonna do today?”

  Daddy settled his gaze on Rebekah. “I’m fixin’ to get my ax an’ head to the woods. I could use your help draggin’ back some good firewood logs.”

  Rebekah bounced up so quickly she almost knocked Little Nellie, who’d been resting her cheek on her big sister’s arm, from the bench. “Sure, Daddy.”

  He chuckled—a low, comforting rumble. “Finish your breakfast. Can’t give a full mornin’s work unless your stomach’s been filled.”

  Rebekah bent forward and spooned up the last of her mush in two big bites. She grabbed the bowl, carried it to the dry sink, and dropped it in the wash bin. She held her hands outward and smiled at her father. “Ready.”

  He shook his head, his lips curving into an amused grin. “If you’re goin’ in the woods, you’re gonna need shoes, gal.”

  Grimacing at her forgetfulness, Rebekah dashed into her bedroom and fished from under the bed the brown lace-up shoes Mama had found in one of the charity barrels city folks donated to the church. She forced
her feet into the shafts without loosening the laces, tied a quick bow at the top, and darted back into the main room.

  Daddy waited by the back door. “Ready now?”

  She lifted the hem of her skirt and tapped the scuffed toes of her shoes together.

  “Let’s go then.”

  Rebekah trailed Daddy past their dried-up garden plot, past the corncrib and tobacco barn, and into the woods. She could hardly believe her luck. Most Saturdays she worked alongside Mama tidying the cabin, plunging their sheets and blankets in a tub of sudsy water, then tossing them over bushes to dry. A morning in the woods with Daddy was a treat. Smelling the perfume of new, uncurling leaves instead of lye soap, enjoying Daddy’s cheerful whistle and the chatter of squirrels instead of Mama’s deep sighs and her sisters’ squabbling. And best of all, she’d have him all to herself for a long talk.

  Daddy lifted a pine bough and held it up so Rebekah could duck under. He let it go, releasing the sweet scent of pine along with little droplets of moisture. She turned and walked backward in front of him, studying his whiskery face. They were far enough from the cabin no one would overhear, but was he in a mood to listen?

  “Gal, you’re gonna knock yourself on your backside movin’ like a crab.”

  She grinned. Daddy had visited the ocean once when he was young, and he never tired of sharing about the rolling sea and the funny little creatures he’d chased along the shore. His teasing let her know it was safe to talk about something serious like a job. And Andy.

  She reached for his hand, the way she used to when she was no bigger than Little Nellie, and he caught hold. “Daddy, I heard you an’ Mama this morning.”

  His fingers tightened. “Thought so by the look on your face when I opened the door.” He carried her hand to his chest and chafed her knuckles against the rough fabric of his overall bib. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I wasn’t upset with you, gal.”

  “It’s all right, Daddy. I worry about Mama, too.”

  The path narrowed. He released her and took the lead.

  Following close on his heels, she gathered her courage and spoke to the straps crisscrossing his broad back. “I’d sure like to help get that marker for Andy.”

  Daddy’s steps faltered, forcing Rebekah to slow her pace. Then he set off again, his stride long and his feet thudding on the hard ground. “I shouldn’t ’ve made that promise to your mama. Not when I know deep down I can’t keep it. How will I get the money? We spend it fast as it comes in. I got nothing of value to sell except the land, an’ I won’t never part with that. Not with our family’s bones planted in the soil.” He spoke soft, so soft she barely heard him over the crunch of their feet on dried pine needles and the wind’s whisper through the tree branches. “No, I won’t be able to keep that promise, no matter how much I want to. But Nell needs somethin’ to hold on to. Some little hope to keep her heart beatin’ ’til the Lord finally heals all the hurt she’s got inside.”

  Rebekah grabbed the X on Daddy’s back and drew him to a stop. He turned, his brows pulled into a puzzled frown. “Gal, why’re you tuggin’ on me?”

  “ ’Cause I need you to listen.”

  “To what?”

  She straightened to her full height—two inches taller than Mama but still a good six inches shorter than Daddy. She looked her father directly in the eyes. “I want to help you keep your promise to Mama. I want to buy that fancy headstone with Andy’s name and a verse carved into it.”

  Daddy’s frown changed to such a look of sorrow Rebekah experienced the sting of tears. He gripped her shoulders. “Gal, you gotta stop blamin’ yourself for Andy’s dyin’.”

  “Would you get lost? You’re the biggest pest in the world!” She closed her eyes, willing away the memory of the last words she said to her brother. She’d been trying to read, and his pestering had kept her from focusing on the beautiful story of Jane Eyre. How could she have let a storybook hold such importance?

  Daddy gave her a little shake. “That boy with his active mind was always seekin’ adventures. He did a fool thing. Ain’t nobody to blame except Andy himself.”

  Rebekah wished she could blame Andy. She opened her eyes and aimed her best pleading look at her father. “If I can get him that headstone, it’ll ease my conscience.”

  Daddy sighed. He released Rebekah and ran his hand through his graying hair. “Where do you think you’re gonna get enough money for a headstone?”

  She hung her head. The idea that had made so much sense that morning now seemed as foolish as Andy’s decision to explore the cave two years ago. “With a…a job.”

  “Where?”

  “At Mammoth Cave.”

  “Doin’ what?”

  He hadn’t said no. Rebekah jerked her gaze upward again. “I don’t know. Working in the hotel, cleaning rooms or doing laundry. Or maybe in the kitchen. I could wash dishes and such.”

  Daddy sighed. “Lord knows you’re a comfort to your mama an’ me, almost bein’ a second mother to your sisters. But why don’t you set your thoughts on doin’ all those chores in a house o’ your own?” He cupped Rebekah’s face, his calluses rough yet somehow soothing. “Cal Adwell hasn’t started sparkin’ some other girl yet. He’s still set on you. You could—”

  She stepped away from Daddy’s hands. “I don’t want to marry Cal Adwell.”

  “Then who?”

  “I don’t know yet. But somebody…more.”

  Daddy shook his head. “You sound like Cissy, always thinkin’ some prince on a white horse is gonna ride in an’ carry her away.” He tapped the end of Rebekah’s nose with his finger. “I blame you for that, seein’ how you’re the one always takin’ books off the library wagon an’ readin’ ’em to your sisters. But I figured you knew those stories weren’t for real.”

  “I’m not waiting on a prince, Daddy. I’m waiting for my Festus Hardin.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with his tender smile. “Well, now, that’s about the nicest thing any o’ my gals ever said to me.” He hung his head. “Truth be told, someone with a mind sharp as yours deserves to go to one o’ those city colleges. To maybe be a schoolteacher or even somebody like the library lady—somebody who helps others learn.”

  A lump of longing filled Rebekah’s throat. But farmers like her daddy couldn’t send their children to such places. Besides, after how she’d treated Andy, she didn’t deserve to go to college or do even more reading. She swallowed the desire.

  Daddy angled a weak grin at her and winked. “Seein’ as how you’ll likely stay right here in our hollow, I’d like you to set your sights some higher than a squatter’s son who mostly never has two nickels to rub together.”

  Rebekah recognized the regret beneath his teasing. She dove at him, wrapping her arms around his middle and burrowing her face against his chest. “There’s no man better than you, Daddy. And until I find one who’s worthy of standing in your shadow, I want to do what I can to make Mama happy.”

  He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Aw, gal…”

  “Della and Jessie are big enough to help with the tobacco crop. You won’t miss me in the field. If I get a job at the hotel, I can bring home money every week. We’ll put it in the can—every penny of it. In no time you’ll be able to buy a nice marker for Andy’s grave.” Still holding tightly to his waist, she tipped her head back and gazed up at her father. “Please say yes. Let me do this for Mama. For Andy. Please, Daddy?”

  Lexington, Kentucky

  Devlin Bale

  “I won’t beg.” Devlin slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and met his father’s gaze without flinching. The university students said Father could wither a person with his steely glower, but Devlin knew that his father was more bark than bite. Even so, he’d carefully chosen the day and time to approach Father with his idea.

  Saturday—no classes, no students knocking at his door, hardly any activity at all on the sprawling campus. Early morning, before Father had started grading papers or plannin
g lessons for the coming week’s studies in American history or political science. Consequently Father couldn’t claim distractions or other duties. He had no choice but to listen. And, as Devlin anticipated, he had listened. Now Devlin waited for the answer.

  “Don’t stand there like a soldier on guard. Sit.”

  Devlin swallowed a chuckle. So Father wanted a conversation. That meant he wouldn’t give a blunt no in response. A positive sign. Devlin dragged a straight-backed chair across the thick carpet to Father’s desk and dropped onto the sturdy seat. He placed his hands on his knees, forcing himself not to bounce his legs in impatience. “What do you think?”

  “I think your mother will have a few choice words if I approve your taking off instead of spending your last summer under our roof.”

  Devlin cleared his throat. “Not just the summer, Father. The remainder of this semester as well.” He’d already brought his trunks down from the attic and begun sorting through his clothes and belongings. The moment he received permission to go, he’d be ready to board the train.

  Father’s frown deepened. “Professor Scholes approved this harebrained plan of yours?”

  “He didn’t call it harebrained, Father.” Devlin took care to maintain an even tone although Father’s derision stirred defensiveness. “The map of Mammoth Cave on record here at the university was drawn in 1845 by an uneducated slave. Many more tunnels have been discovered in the past six decades, but no American cartographer has taken the time to create a new map.”

  Excitement quivered through him, bringing him to the edge of his seat. His left leg bounced despite the firm grip of his fingers over his kneecap. “Professor Scholes says it’s a perfect senior project for my land surveyor degree. He even offered to talk to my other professors and obtain their approval for early dismissal so I can dedicate a full four months to it.”

  Father grimaced. “Four months under the ground? Devlin, you’ve lost your mind.”