Guide Me Home (25 page)

He stepped onto the stoop and paused next to her. She looked up at him, both expectation and consternation in her expression. He couldn't decide which to reward. Then she stepped aside, putting too much space between them for him to reach her even if he wanted to. “I'd like to spend at least a couple of hours this evening, if you don't mind.”

“Take as long as you'd like. I can busy myself elsewhere.”

“Thank you.” He took one step toward the door, but then he paused and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Reb, Belvy said someone was bothering you at the cave entrance. Do you think it was the person who came in and helped himself to our torches and food?”

Once again her face flooded with color. She shook her head hard.

Such an intense reaction. Devlin's curiosity instantly roused. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I know the person well. I grew up with him.”

Curiosity departed and a different emotion swooped in. “Oh?”

“Yes. His family owns the land behind ours.”

The Adwells, if he remembered correctly.

“Cal and I went to school together.”

Devlin frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “And why was he at the cave's opening so early this morning?”

“He was looking for a job.” Her fine brows came together. “How do you know about Cal's visit?”

He cocked his eyebrows and glowered at her. “That doesn't matter. What matters is whether he intimidated you in some way.”

“Intimidated?”

Devlin nodded emphatically. “Belvy was certainly concerned, and so was Tolly. If this man…this Cal, as you call him…gave you any reason for fear or apprehension, I shall—”

Rebekah's brown eyes flew wide, her lips parted, and a soft laugh spilled out. “Why, Devlin Bale, you're jealous!”

Rebekah

“
I
am not.”

His firm statement didn't convince her. Rebekah laughed again. “If you could see your face…You're the picture of the indignant suitor.”

To her surprise he threw his hands wide. “Very well. You want the truth? Yes, I am jealous. I happen to like you, Rebekah Hardin, and the thought that some other man has been in your life since girlhood, is familiar enough to steal moments of your time in the early hours of the morning without causing you distress, and is viewed so fondly that you want to defend him makes me want to punch him in the nose.”

He wanted to punch Cal? “But you don't even know Calvin Adwell.”

“I know enough to dislike him.”

She wanted to laugh again, but she couldn't. His declaration that he liked her, that he was jealous of Cal, set her heart aflutter. But how could she let herself fall in love with a man who was here only for the summer? A man who belonged to a world far away from her beloved hills? She was treading on dangerous ground, and she needed to choose another pathway quickly.

“Devlin, there's no reason for you to be jealous.”

His face lit with hope. “Because you don't have true fondness for this Adwell fellow?”

“Because…” The words resisted release. But one of them needed to be sensible. And since he'd kissed her without a moment's warning, clearly he wasn't going to be the sensible one. Regret formed a fierce ache in the center of her heart. She sent up a silent prayer for strength. “Because we don't have the kind of…relationship…that warrants jealousy.”

He took a step back. “Oh.”

She'd hurt him, which made her pain even worse. She blinked back tears and held her hands to him. “I like you, Devlin. But we can't be more than friends. You and I, we're too…different.” Would he understand?

“Different.” The single word demanded explanation.

“Yes.” She fidgeted before him, wishing he wouldn't appear so stricken. “You're from the city. I'm not. You're educated. I'm…not.” He had to know these things. Why didn't he stop her so she didn't have to list her shortcomings one by one? “Your family is wealthy. Mine doesn't have much more than a cabin and little plot of ground to call our own. You see? We're…different.”

He stood still as a statue, his blue eyes pinned on hers for several seconds. Then he gave an abrupt nod. “I see.”

She wheezed out a breath. “Good.”

“I won't kiss you again.”

She wouldn't say “good” to that declaration.

“But I would still like for you to accompany me to more of the surrounding areas, continue to introduce me to people.”

“I'd like that. Because there's something important I need to tell you.” She'd prayed every day during their separation for the chance to tell him how he could be sure he'd go to heaven when he died.

“Well, that important talk will have to come another time. I have work to complete.”

She wanted him to be more relaxed when she approached the subject of heaven. She offered a meek nod. “All right.”

“And I hope you'll allow me the further use of the table in your cabin since I don't have another place to work.”

Did he have to sound so stilted? “You're welcome to work here as often as you need to. And I hope…” She swallowed. She wished the warmth would return to his eyes. They seemed so icy, so unlike the Devlin she'd gotten to know in the past weeks. “…we can discuss Hawthorne. And Dickens.”

His lips formed a grim line. “Of course. Anytime you like. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get busy on my map.” He turned and strode into the cabin. And he slammed the door closed behind him.

Cissy

Cissy ran until her lungs ached. Then, panting, she leaned against a tree and closed her eyes, waiting for the deep pain in her chest to ease. Her breathing slowed, but the pain remained. Cissy hugged the tree, battling tears. How could she? How could Bek let the man Cissy'd decided was going to be her beau kiss her? She'd never felt so betrayed and ashamed and angry all at once.

She should go home and give Daddy the fifty-five cents she'd earned from selling the mushrooms. She should help Mama put supper on the table. But she didn't want to go home. She wanted to talk to somebody. Somebody who would feel sorry for her and tell her Bek was wrong to steal her beau. If she tried to talk to Mama and Daddy, they'd tell her she was too young to be thinking about beaus and would stick up for Bek the way they always did. But Pansy would be on her side.

She popped her eyes open. Evening shadows were starting to fall. Dark would come behind the shadows. If she took the shortcut through the trees, there'd be time to see Pansy before full dark came on. She'd probably arrive there at suppertime, but Pansy's mama wouldn't mind. She'd welcome Cissy to their table, and afterward she'd tell the girls to go on to the swing hanging from the big oak in the backyard and talk. That's when Cissy would spill her heart to her dearest friend and receive the sympathy she badly needed.

She wove her way through the trees, using the basket to slap at hanging tree branches. She startled a hoot owl and two rabbits, but she didn't care. What did wild critters matter when her future happiness had been shattered? She pressed onward until she broke through to the small clearing where the Blairs' cabin waited.

Smoke rose from the rock chimney, flavoring the air with a homey aroma. She hoped they were having something besides black-eyed peas. After seeing her handsome stranger kiss her traitorous sister, she couldn't possibly eat black-eyed peas.

Cissy pattered up on the porch and banged her fist on the door. Moments later it opened, and Mrs. Blair stood in the doorway.

“Why, Cissy Hardin. What're you doin' out here this time o' the evenin'?”

“May I come in, ma'am? I need to talk to Pansy.”

“Well, honey, Pansy ain't here.”

Cissy frowned. “But I need her.”

Mrs. Blair's mouth pinched into a pout. “I'm sorry, but she's gone over to the Constant place for supper.”

Cissy's mouth fell open. “How come?”

The pout changed to smugness. “Burrel invited her.”

Cissy gawked at the woman. “Burrel Constant asked Pansy to supper?”

“He sure did. Ain't that somethin'?”

It was something, all right. Something awful. Burrel Constant was too scrawny and too clumsy, and his feet and nose were too big for the rest of him. Cissy wouldn't choose Burrel for a beau. And she didn't want Pansy to choose him, either. “Why'd you let her go?”

Mrs. Blair blinked, drawing back. “Because she wanted to go, and because I didn't have any reason to tell her she couldn't.” Now she frowned. “Maybe you better hurry on home, honey. Dusk'll come on soon, an' you shouldn't be wanderin' in the woods after dusk. Ain't safe for you.”

Cissy didn't move.

Mrs. Blair swished her hand. “Go on now. You can talk to Pansy in school tomorrow—give you somethin' special to talk about on your last day o' school for the season. I'm sure she'll be happy to tell you all about her supper with Burrel.” She closed the door in Cissy's face.

She stayed put for a few more seconds. Her body felt like the strings on Mama's mop after they'd given the floor a good scrubbing. She wasn't sure her legs would hold her up if she tried to move. But she couldn't stay on the Blairs' porch all night. Daddy was waiting for the money in her pocket. Mama would want help with the little girls. She needed to go.

With a heavy sigh she turned and trudged down the steps. She moved along the cleared pathway to the road, her hurt increasing with every plod of her foot against the trail. How could she have gone from happy to sad so quickly? She'd gone by Bek's cabin to show her sister the pictures of the pleated shirtwaist and ruffled skirt she'd torn out of the Sears, Roebuck catalog. She planned to order the outfit as soon as she had money. She'd wanted to ask Bek if the outfit would make her look more grown up so she could impress her handsome stranger.

But then she'd found her stranger kissing Bek.

If that wasn't bad enough, Pansy was taking supper with Burrel Constant. Cissy wasn't stupid. She knew what it meant. She'd seen other gals and fellows pair up at school over the years. And once they paired up, they didn't pay attention to anybody else. She might as well say good-bye to Pansy as her best friend.

The hurt faded and a hot anger replaced it. How dare Pansy take a beau without talking to Cissy first? She wanted to tell her so-called friend exactly what she thought of her. And she wanted to do it now, not tomorrow. Daddy'd probably give her what for when she got home late, but she didn't care. She hadn't been able to tell Bek what she wanted to. She'd have her say with Pansy. She turned away from home and followed the road to the Constant cabin.

Lights glowed behind the windows—glass windows, slid up in the frame to let in the evening breeze. Talk and laughter escaped the opening, and Cissy came close to picking up a rock and throwing it right through one of those glass squares. She ducked into some bushes beside the path. Swatting at bugs and shifting her feet, she waited for what seemed like hours until the door opened and Burrel and Pansy stepped out on the porch.

Burrel's mama called, “Bye now, Pansy. You come back anytime, you hear?”

Cissy gritted her teeth when Pansy tittered and answered, “Thank you, ma'am. I'll come as often as Burrel invites me.”

She stayed in the bushes, watching Pansy take hold of Burrel's skinny elbow. His egg-sized Adam's apple bobbed in his too-long neck. Then he guided her down the steps and across the yard.

When they were close, she jumped out. “Pansy!”

Pansy shrieked and dove behind Burrel.

“Don't you hide from me. Come out here.”

Pansy peeked out. “C-Cissy? Is that you?”

“Yes, an' you an' me're gonna have a talk.”