Guide Me Home

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Laughing and jostling, the girls clambered into the house. Daddy followed them, calling directions to wash up and settle down.

  Mama looped arms with Rebekah and took the steps slowly. “Probably won’t be nothin’ like the fine meals you’ve been eatin’ at the estate all week, but I hope it’ll please you.”

  They needed to get inside and put dinner on the table, but Rebekah pulled her mother into an embrace. “Mama, no matter what you fix, it always pleases me. I’m glad the extra money pleases you. I know you weren’t sure about me taking a job at the cave.”

  Mama sniffed and pulled away. “Always hard for a mother to say good-bye to her children. But it’s the way of things, children growin’ up an’ movin’ on. Pretty soon it’ll be Cissy.” She opened her mouth as if she planned to say something more, but then she turned away and hurried inside.

  Rebekah followed. The table was already set, the girls and Daddy in their places.

  Little Nellie looked up and patted the empty spot next to her on the bench. “Sit by me, Bek.”

  “Lemme help Mama first.”

  “No, no.” Mama shooed her to the bench. “Today you’re a guest. Cissy’n Della’ll help me. C’mon, gals, get up from there an’ make yourselves useful.”

  Even though the lamb, potatoes, and carrots were delicious, Rebekah fought tears the entire meal. She’d stayed so busy she didn’t realize how much she missed her family until she was with them again. Regret also nibbled at her. She’d been stubborn about not taking those tips from Tolly, but thinking about how much money she’d turned away and the things Mama and Daddy could have bought filled her with self-recrimination. She’d do better about considering her family’s needs first from now on.

  When they finished eating, Trudy dragged Little Nellie to their bedroom for naps. Tabitha and Jessie cleared the table, and Della and Cissy washed the dishes. Mama settled in her rocking chair with the Bible draped across her lap and read aloud while the girls worked. Rebekah wandered around the room, guilty for not helping but grateful the younger girls were capable of handling the chores. She didn’t have to worry about Mama being left short handed with her working away from home.

  Daddy emerged from his and Mama’s bedroom in his everyday overalls. He quirked his finger at Rebekah. “Come with me, gal. Got somethin’ to show you.”

  She trailed him out the back door and into the yard. “What is it, Daddy?”

  “Just wait an’ see.”

  He led her along the path through the woods. Already the barberries were filling in along the edges of the leaf-strewn pathway. She pointed out a thick cluster of yellow trout lilies blooming beneath the pines. Since they’d eaten the last of their potatoes at noon, Daddy could dig up the roots. When boiled and mashed, they made a fine substitute for potatoes, and Mama served them up regularly while they waited for the garden to sprout. But Daddy picked only a handful of the bell-shaped flowers, gave them to Rebekah, and continued on, apparently not thinking about their stomachs.

  All at once Rebekah knew where he was taking her. She added a dozen stems of larkspur to her bouquet as she and Daddy continued onward to the family burial plot.

  For a moment Daddy stood at the edge of the simple fence built of sticks and string, hands in his pockets, face solemn. Then he took the flowers from her and stepped over the fence. He knelt at his mama’s grave and laid a few of the flowers next to her wooden cross. “Been stoppin’ for a bit every day on my way back from the field, clearin’ out the dead leaves an’ pullin’ up the wild grasses.” He shifted and put a single larkspur stem on each of the other graves except Andy’s. “Things get a mite disheveled when somebody don’t come around. I wanted it all cleaned up an’ pretty before I brought Andy’s headstone out here.”

  Rebekah lifted her skirt and joined Daddy inside the enclosure. She crouched and swept a few dead leaves away from the row of little crosses where the babies who never drew a breath lay covered with sod. “It looks fine, Daddy.”

  He smiled briefly, arranging the remaining flowers in a fan at the base of Andy’s cross. “When Cissy came home with that money the other day, it got me to thinkin’ about something. I wanted to hear your thoughts on it, too.”

  Her heart started to pound. Daddy wanted her advice? He was the one who told her what to do. Did he think her time at the estate had made her wiser? Being asked to share her thoughts made her feel both grown up and scared at the same time. “About what?”

  “About doin’ more than putting a headstone on Andy’s grave.” Daddy’s expression turned serious. He sat on his bottom, drew up his knees, and circled his legs with his arms. He looked young and uncertain, and Rebekah came close to putting her hand on his knee to assure him. “I’ve always wanted an iron fence around this plot. One with a gate that can latch, like a real cemetery.”

  He glanced across the crosses. A sigh heaved from his chest. “Your mama wants a headstone for Andy, an’ that’ll be the first thing I get when the money’s all saved up, but wouldn’t it be nice if each o’ these graves had a stone marker? Already the markers for your great-granddaddy and great-grandmama ’ve fallen away. Can’t say for sure where they lie in this plot now. So I’m thinkin’ I’d like to put somethin’ that’ll still be here a hundred years from now so your grandchildren an’ great-grandchildren can come an’ see the names of their ancestors. Can know the stock they came from.”

  Daddy met her gaze. “I don’t have much to leave to you an’ your sisters. Some stories passed down from the old country, a little patch of land, and this.” He gestured to the circle of graves. “But if I can put stone markers here, then my gals’ll always remember the ones who come before ’em.”

  Rebekah blinked back tears. Daddy’d never spoken so brokenly, so openly to her. Protectiveness washed over her. He wanted her and Cissy and all the others to remember not only Granddaddy and Great-Granddaddy but him. He’d be laid out here someday, too, and he wanted it to be a nice place for him to rest. She wanted it, too.

  “I think it’s a fine idea, Daddy. All the money I make from the cave and the money Cissy gets from selling mushrooms can be our cemetery money, all right?”

  “You sure you don’t mind? You’re all grown up now, Rebekah. You promised to get Andy’s marker, but after that you could be settin’ that money aside for yourself. Maybe to take yourself to the city an’—”

  “No, Daddy.” She wouldn’t leave her family. She’d stolen Andy from them. She owed them. Besides that, her whole life Daddy had taken care of her. All he’d ever asked in return was for her to obey and serve the Lord. She couldn’t recall one time he’d been selfish and demanded something for himself. If her earnings could give him the satisfaction of leaving something of value behind, then she’d gladly hand over every penny. She didn’t need anything more than to see him happy.

  “I want you to have the money. For the cemetery.”

  He stretched his hand toward her and squeezed her knee. “Thank you, gal.” His voice turned husky, and he sniffed. “Means a lot to me.”

  She gripped his hand. “It’ll mean a lot to me, too, to bring my children here someday, open up the gate and invite them in, and let them meet their ancestors.”

  Daddy smiled. He rose and pulled her up with him. “Since that’s settled, let’s get on to the house. Mama’ll want some time with you before you go back to the estate.” They stepped out of the plot and turned toward the path. Then Daddy paused, his fingers tightening on her hand.

  “Don’t say anything to your mama about our plans here. Just in case something happens an’ we don’t get to put up the headstone for Andy or all the other things. If she gets her heart set on it an’ it doesn’t happen, it’ll only disappoint her. An’ your mama’s suffered enough disappointments already, comin’ here with me an’ not seein’ her family again, losin’ Andy an’ our other babies. If it happens, it’ll be a nice surprise, all right?”

  Rebekah nodded. In her mind’s eye she saw it already—the crisp black iron fence with
little arrows pointing to the sky, the gray headstones with carved flowers or birds or praying hands and the names stamped deep. It would be a glorious surprise. She leaned against Daddy’s bibbed-overall front and sighed. “It’ll happen, Daddy. Wait and see.”

  Cissy

  As soon as the dishes were clean, dry, and back on the shelves, Cissy interrupted Mama’s reading. “Can I take a trek in the woods?”

  Della clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Can I go, too, Mama?”

  Cissy grunted. “Not with me, you can’t.”

  Mama aimed her frown straight at Cissy. “Now, it wouldn’t hurt you any for Della to go along.”

  Yes, it would. She’d spent all day Saturday choring and hadn’t been able to go to the rock by the creek. She wanted to search out those coins hiding in the ferns, and she didn’t want Della tagging along. “I wanna go by myself.”

  Mama shook her head. “Gal, sometimes I wonder what mischief you’re up to, always wantin’ to go sneakin’ off on your own.”

  Cissy’s face blazed. She folded her arms over her chest and clamped her lips tight.

  Mama set her Bible aside and rose. She crossed to Cissy and smoothed her hand over Cissy’s hair. The touch was gentle, loving, and it sent Cissy’s tummy twirling. “Then again, I recollect wantin’ time to myself for thinkin’ an’ dreamin’ when I was on the brink of womanhood. Hard to think o’ you bein’ there already, but I suppose you are.”

  Cissy held her breath, daring to hope.

  “Go ahead.”

  Her breath escaped on a happy sigh.

  “But watch the sun. Be back in time to help with supper.”

  “I will, Mama. Bye!” She darted out the door and set her course for the stream. The nickel in her shoe bit into her heel with every step, but it didn’t bother her. She ran as quickly as the uneven, crooked break carved through the trees allowed, pushing aside scraggly branches and leaping over water-carved dips in the path. She arrived at the stream breathless but eager. She went directly to the flat rock, dropped to her knees in the moss, and began separating the ferns with her fingers.

  After several minutes of careful searching, a tiny glint of silver rewarded her. A nickel! She pinched it up and held it to the sun, laughing with delight.

  “Whatcha got?”

  Cissy spun around, half expecting to find the handsome man who’d come upon her Friday afternoon. But Della stood near the path in a slash of shade, grinning.

  Cissy jumped up, hiding her hand in her skirt. “What’re you doin’ here? Mama said I could be alone.”

  Della’s brown eyes glimmered. “She said you could be alone, but she didn’t say you had to be alone.” She sauntered forward a few steps, swinging her arms against her skirt and making the rose calico fabric sway. “You found somethin’. I saw you. What’d you find?”

  Cissy balled her hand tight. “Nothin’ that concerns you. Go on, Della. Go…pick wildflowers. Or go pick your nose. I don’t care. But get outta here.”

  Della circled around to the other side of the rock and sat, stretching out her legs and crossing her ankles. “Only Little Nellie picks her nose anymore. An’ I don’t feel like gatherin’ wildflowers. I wanna stay with you.”

  “Why? To pester me?”

  “No, ’cause I’m tired of always bein’ with the little girls.” She poked out her skinny chest. “Gonna be thirteen soon. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Cissy slid her hand into the pocket in the seam of her skirt and dropped the nickel inside. Then she sat on the opposite side of the rock and placed her feet over the spot where she’d found the coin. “You ain’t gonna be thirteen ’til next October.”

  “Still, I don’t play with rag dolls like Jessie does with the little ones. An’ I’m almost as tall as you already.” She gave Cissy a pleading look. “Can’t I stay? I won’t pester you. I promise.”

  Her being here was pestering enough. Cissy wanted to find those coins before the afternoon got away and they had to go home again. “Look, Della, if you’re not a little girl anymore, like you say, then you ought to understand what Mama meant about needin’ to be alone to think an’ dream.” She patted the warm rock. “This is my thinkin’ an’ dreamin’ spot. Go find your own.”

  Della wrinkled her nose. “I don’t wanna be all by myself.”

  Cissy sighed. “But I do.”

  Della puckered her lips and stared at Cissy for several seconds. Then she blew out a dramatic huff like the ones Cissy let out a half-dozen times a day. She bounced up. “All right, I’ll go an’ leave you be. But you know somethin’, Cissy?” She balled her hands on her hips. “I think Mama’s right about you bein’ up to somethin’, always wantin’ everybody to stay away from you.” She flounced off with her nose in the air.

  Cissy sat stiff as a poker, watching the spot in the trees where Della’d slipped away, listening for rustling sounds that meant she was coming back. She watched and listened for what seemed like hours. And finally when her backside ached from sitting so tense and still, she relaxed and slipped to her knees beside the rock again.

  She’d find those coins, she’d hide them in her shoe, and then she’d never come back to this rock again.

  Tolly

  Tolly fastened the straps on Reb’s backpack and stepped aside. Her knees buckled and she wobbled. If she went over backward and refused to get up again, he wouldn’t blame her. He bent down and peeked into her face. Sweats dots were popping out all over her pale face even though the morning air was plenty cool.

  He shook his head and started to remove the pack. “That’s gonna be too much fo’ you to tote.”

  “No.” She grunted and leaned forward some, balancing the weight. “I’m fine.”

  “You ain’t fine, Reb. You’s almost foldin’ up unduh that thing.”

  She shot him a stern look. “I’ll earn my keep.”

  Tolly swallowed a laugh. Stubborn-headed girl. Or maybe she just had gumption. “All right then. That’ll be yours.” He plucked the pack free and hefted it into the bed of the pony cart next to the second pack loaded with extra torches, matches, and tools. The canvas pack, along with his ready coil of rope, canteens, and pickax, would make a goodly burden. But he could handle it.

  He gave the pack a solid smack with his gloved palm. “We got all we need to spend the day down unduh the ground. Soon as Devlin gits here”—he squinted at the sun peeking up over the horizon—“we’s goin’ in.”

  Reb adjusted her hat. She’d stopped shoving all her hair up under the hat and let it hang down in a braid tied off with a bit of string. The thick plait of deepest brown always seemed to wind up draping across her left collarbone. She grabbed the end of the braid and flipped it over her shoulder. “Did you tell him to be ready by seven?”

  “ ’Course I did. An’ I ’spect a college fella oughta know how to tell time.”

  “Maybe he overslept. Do you want me to knock on his door?”

  No way Tolly’d send her to a man’s door. “It’s just now creepin’ up on seven. We can be patient a mite longer.”

  “Will he have a pack, too?”

  “Reckon he will.”

  “We’re already toting a lot of stuff.” Reb worried her lip between her teeth and gazed at the pile of plunder. “Could we have the mule pull the cart into the cave? You tell the tour groups men used wagons in the cave during the war for independence.”

  Tolly propped his elbow on the edge of the cart. “True enough mules an’ wagons was put to work back in the 1770s an’ ’80s. Even durin’ the War between the States. Fact is, my pappy was one o’ those who guided a wagon in an’ out. So I s’pose we could do that, too, if we was keepin’ to the tour passageways an’ bigger sections. But Devlin, he say he wants to map the whole cave. So we’s gonna be goin’ through places too skinny fo’ a wagon to pass.” He chuckled. “Truth be, you an’ me might have trouble goin’ through wearin’ our packs. If we hafta leave ’em behind now an’ then, guess we’ll do it.”

  “Leave t
hem behind? Our candles and things?” Her eyes grew big.

  Tolly laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “Not our candles, Reb. I don’t go nowhere without some way o’ seein’ what’s ahead. No mattuh how small the passage, I find a way fo’ my candles an’ rope an’ chalk an’ watuh to go wit’ me. Mappin’ is mighty impo’tant, but bein’ safe is the most impo’tant. You remember that, Reb.”

  “I will, Tolly.”

  “I’ll remember it, too.” Devlin moved up alongside the cart. He held a leather satchel and pushed a strange one-wheeled something or other ahead of him.

  Tolly smiled at the college boy. “There you is. Reb here was worryin’ you’d changed yo’ mind ’bout goin’ in this mo’nin’.”

  “No, sir. I’m ready.”

  Tolly took a gander at Devlin from his head to his toes. If it wasn’t for the familiar face showing underneath the brim of his wide-brimmed beaver hat, he wouldn’t have recognized him at all. “Hoo-ee, boy, you sure enough found yo’self some traipsin’ clothes. Reckon you done bought out the comp’ny sto’.”

  Devlin grinned. “I only bought what you told me to, but you’re right that everything on me is new.”

  Tolly ambled close and bent over to examine the big wheel with a round clocklike dial attached to it. “What you got there? Some kind o’ newfangled velocipede?”

  Reb inched close and looked at the contraption, too. Or maybe she was sneaking a peek at Devlin. If Tolly didn’t miss his guess, sparks could fly between the two young people. He’d keep a close eye. Devlin seemed a nice enough fellow, but Reb was a mighty pretty girl even in her manly getup and, Tolly was certain sure, plumb ignorant when it came to handling attention from men. Over his years at the estate, he’d seen romances between guests and staff flare up and then die out just as quick. He wouldn’t want Reb taken in by a city dandy who planned to stick around only long enough to complete a project.