Guide Me Home (29 page)

Her heart still ached from her last conversation with Devlin. She knew they were different in many important ways. She'd already convinced herself it was foolish to pine over him. So why did his insistence that people around the estate should be willing to give up portions of their landholdings for the sake of money bother her so much?

When they'd parted Saturday, when his hands spanned her waist and his strong arms lifted her onto Jinx's back, she'd wanted to cry. They had argued, hadn't reached an agreement, and still he'd been the perfect gentleman. How could he be obstinate and so admirable at the same time? Her heart wouldn't survive working at the estate all summer when it meant encountering him week after week. Should she tell Daddy she wanted to quit and come home? But if she did, how would they pay for the cemetery?

It was all her fault they needed a headstone for Andy. She couldn't quit.

She shifted Little Nellie to her other hip, shifting her thoughts at the same time. With their new schedule of him spending days at a time in the cave, she wouldn't see him every day. She'd be fine. Just fine.

The hymn ended, and the preacher offered a closing prayer. Then he dismissed them, teasing, “Try to stay dry out there. Sounds like a gullywasher is sweepin' in from the other side o' the hills.”

Rebekah set Little Nellie down and held her hand as they trailed her family up the crowded aisle toward the church doors. Someone bumped her from behind, and she glanced over her shoulder. Cal Adwell stood so close she saw her own reflection in his blue eyes.

“Hey, Rebekah, wonderin' if I could take you back to the estate this afternoon when you're done visitin' with your family. Got somethin' important I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

A secretive smile played on the corners of his mouth. “Nuh-uh. Ain't gonna say 'til I getcha alone.”

If she rode with him, it would save her a long walk. “I suppose that would be all right.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet, as eager as a runner waiting for the starting pistol. “What time?”

They stepped from the church. Daddy waited at the base of the steps, his gaze aimed skyward. Rebekah scurried to him and touched his sleeve. “Daddy, Cal said he'll drive me to the estate after we have lunch. What time should I tell him to pick me up?”

Daddy shot a quick look at Cal and then settled his worried frown on her. “Gal, if you can eat somethin' at the estate, I'd say it'd be best to hurry on to there now. That's a terrible storm buildin'. Can't say when it'll hit, but when it does it's gonna be hard to get through on these ol' roads.”

She'd looked forward to time with her family, but she wouldn't argue with Daddy. He was one of the best storm predictors in the whole hollow. With regret weighting her chest, she turned to Cal. “Is it all right with you if we go now?”

His grin broadened. “Sure enough. Fact is, I got a little jinglin' money in my pocket. Enough, I reckon, to buy you dinner at the hotel dinin' room if you've a mind to give it a try.”

Cissy darted close. “What about me, Daddy? Can I ride with Cal, too? I can pay for my own lunch with the money I made yesterday, an' I gotta meet Mr. Temperance at one thirty to get the picture-takin' screen an' Beau ready.”

Daddy's lips formed a grim line. “No, Cissy.”

“But—”

“Gal, that photographer ain't gonna be takin' photos today. Not with this wind pickin' up an' rain comin' in. Besides, after how late you've got home the last two nights, I'm not sure I'm ever gonna send you back to the estate.”

“Daddy!”

He shook his head, his expression stern, and turned his attention to Rebekah and Cal. “Go on, you two, an' don't dally.”

Cal gripped Rebekah's elbow and propelled her across the yard. Church folks aimed knowing looks at them as they passed by, and Rebekah wanted to tell them she was only accepting a ride, not a proposal to marry. When they reached his wagon, he caught hold of her around the middle. His fingers dug into the underside of her ribs, and she winced.

“Cal, let me cli—”

He boosted her with such force he nearly flung her into the seat.

“Never mind…” Cradling her rib cage with one arm, she inched to the opposite side of the springed bench.

Still grinning, he clambered up beside her and took hold of the traces. “Ready?” Without waiting for her reply, he slapped the reins onto the horse's back, and the startled animal shot forward.

She hadn't settled herself yet, and she yelped as she caught her balance. She gripped the seat with both hands and tried not to notice how many folks stared at them as Cal's wagon rolled out of the churchyard. She wished she'd told him she wanted to walk. She might be soaked to the skin by the time she reached the estate, but she wouldn't be bruised, and half of Good Spring wouldn't be speculating about whether she and Cal were courting.

They didn't talk as they rolled through an uncommonly dark midday. Cal's face held its silly grin the entire distance, though, and by the time they reached the hotel, Rebekah's appetite had fled along with her good humor.

“Cal, could you take me to my cabin instead? I'm really not hungry, and it would be a waste of money to buy me a meal.”

He lowered his brows. “I'm hungry, though. We can still go in. I'll talk to you while I eat.”

She gaped at him. He really expected her to sit there and watch him eat? Devlin would never behave so ungraciously. She closed her eyes for a moment, silently praying for patience. Why couldn't Cal be gallant and gentlemanly, the kind of man who made her heart sing? He was good looking in a rugged sort of way, and he came from a decent family. If one examined a romance from a logical angle, Cal was a likely choice for her life's mate. But when she was with him, all she wanted to do was get away, and no logic could erase that truth.

She opened her eyes and sighed. “I've changed my mind. I'll eat something.”

“Good.” He leaped to the ground and reached for her, but she clambered down the other side and met him at the front of the wagon. He held out his hand, but she pretended not to see and walked ahead of him up the boardwalk to the dining room entry.

The savory aromas drifting from the room and the sight of dozens of diners obviously enjoying their meals renewed her appetite. Until she realized how everyone was dressed. All the men wore suits with ribbon ties or bright-colored ascots creating a splash of color against their crisp white shirts. The women's dresses of pastel linen bore tucks and gathers and miles of lace. Embarrassment struck hard, and her cheeks blazed. How dowdy she and Cal must appear in their homespun clothes, Cal even absent a jacket.

She turned to urge Cal out the door, but the dining room host, a slender, energetic man named Eugene, hurried over. Rebekah couldn't ignore his bright smile.

“Reb! Good to see you.” His gaze zipped to Cal. “Are you and the gentleman together?”

She fingered her muslin skirt, wishing she could melt into the stained and polished floorboards. “Y-yes. This is a friend of mine, Calvin Adwell. Do you have an open table?” She prayed he'd say no so they could leave.

“Of course. We can always squeeze in two.”

She stifled a groan. Wasn't God listening?

“Especially when someone is treating one of our hard-working staff members.” He picked up two menus from a cloth-draped table near the entry and waggled his fingers. “Follow me, Reb and Mr. Adwell.”

He led them through the center of the dining room. Her face blazed so hot she wondered if steam rose from her hair. She kept her head down and focused on the toes of her scuffed shoes appearing and disappearing beneath the hem of her dress so she wouldn't know if some of the guests turned up their noses at her.

They stopped at the far edge of the room. A gentleman sat alone at a square table facing the windows. Eugene touched the man's shoulder. “I found some people to share your table, so you'll have some company after all.” He gestured Rebekah and Cal forward. “Please meet Miss Rebekah Hardin, one of the employees here at Mammoth Cave, and her friend Mr. Adwell.”

The gentleman stood and turned, his blue-eyed gaze landing directly on Rebekah. His lips curved into a wry grin. “Thank you, Eugene, but Miss Hardin and I have already met.”

Rebekah's stomach tightened into a knot. She forced a wobbly smile. “H-hello, Devlin.”

Devlin

D
evlin sat in silence while Rebekah and the overgrown country boy she'd brought with her ordered breaded trout, wilted greens, and wild rice. He took note of her trembling hands, the slight waver in her voice. But he couldn't determine the source of her nervousness—was it him, her clumsy dining companion, or the well-to-do people surrounding them?

When the waiter left, Devlin rested one elbow on the edge of the table and settled his gaze on Rebekah's pink-stained face. “I didn't think staff members ate in the dining room.”

She spread her napkin over her lap. “We don't. I mean, not on our workdays. But this is Sunday, so…”

“So you brought a friend to enjoy Mr. Cooper's good cooking.”

She turned her face to the window and didn't answer.

Devlin gave Cal Adwell a slow perusal. This was the man who Belvy claimed pestered Reb, the one she said had grown up on the land behind hers. She said she knew him, but she hadn't called him a friend. And yet here they were together. A knot formed in his throat, and he forced a sharp “ahem” to clear it.

The man jumped.

“Sorry,” Devlin said, but he didn't mean it. It tickled him that such an insignificant sound caused such a start. He tapped his foot, wishing someone would say something. Anything. Conversations rose from every other table in the room—children jabbering, parents scolding, lovers whispering. He felt as alone as he had before Rebekah and her pal Cal joined him.

He cleared his throat again and dropped his hand to the tabletop with a light smack. Both Reb and Cal looked at him. “So what brings the two of you here this fine sunless noon?”
Are you trapped in darkness today?
He pushed the inner voice aside.

Cal flicked a solemn look at Reb and then shrugged.

She sighed and faced the table. “Cal and I were at church together, and he offered to give me a ride to the hotel since Daddy predicted rain.”

Just as she said the word
rain,
fat drops dotted the window.

Devlin grinned. “It appears he was correct.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of Rebekah's lips. “Cal also wanted to talk to me about something, so we decided to have lunch together so he could…talk.”

Which meant Devlin was creating a barrier. He ought to feel guilty about it, but he didn't. He swung his grin on the big-boned, blond-haired man who sat scowling from the other side of the table. “Please don't allow me to interfere with your intentions. I'm happy to watch the raindrops race one another down the window. I won't pay you a bit of attention.” He held up his hand as if making an oath. “I promise.”

Cal's scowl deepened.

Rebekah ducked her head. “I'm sure Cal would rather wait until we're alone.”

The man hadn't said a word to Reb or Devlin. If he hadn't ordered his dinner, Devlin wouldn't know whether or not he was capable of speech. Now a cunning look entered Cal's eyes, and he slowly shifted to Reb. “If you don't mind this fella listenin' in, I'll tell you what I wanted you to know. Y'see, I—”

The waiter arrived carrying a large round tray with three dinner plates. Two held whole trout complete with eyes and tails, and the third, Devlin's, contained a very tame-looking serving of lamb chops. He deftly transferred the plates from the tray to the table and then cast a smile over them. “Do you have need of anything else?”

Cal licked his lips. “Can I have some ketchup?”

Rebekah coughed into her hand, and Devlin nearly choked, swallowing a laugh.

The waiter seemed to freeze for a moment, but then he nodded. “Yes, sir. I'll bring some right away.”

“Thanks.” Cal looked happier than he had since they sat down.

The waiter scurried off, the tray tucked under his arm.

Rebekah raised her eyebrows, her expression innocent. “Who would like to say grace?”

Devlin wasn't surprised by her question. She and Tolly had bowed their heads over the meager picnic items they carried into the cave. Since she'd indicated she and Cal attended church together, he expected Cal to volunteer. But the big man clamped his mouth closed and didn't look up from his plate.

Devlin's father offered long-winded prayers when guests visited on holidays. He supposed he could emulate and shorten one to satisfy Reb. Someone needed to before their food grew cold. “I will.”

The other two bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Devlin followed their example and started. “Dear Father in heaven…” Reb's question about whether he'd be going to heaven someday intruded in his thoughts. “Th-thank You for this food. I ask You to bless it, the hands that prepared it, and those with whom I share this meal today. Amen.”

He looked up and caught a glimmer of approval in Reb's eyes. Warmth spread through him, and he smiled as he picked up his fork and knife. “So, Cal, before the waiter came, you were about to tell Reb…ekah something. Would you like to continue now?”

“Oh!” Cal plunked his fork back onto the table and turned a serious look on Reb. “See, my grandpa Tilly, Ma's pa—”

“Your ketchup, sir.” The waiter slid a small porcelain saucer filled with thick red paste next to Cal's elbow and darted away, as if unwilling to discover what Cal intended to do with the condiment.

Cal spooned globs of the ketchup on the trout, the rice, and even the greens. “My grandpa Tilly, Ma's pa who lives over in Rhoda, has been farin' poorly for a couple years already.”

Reb nodded sadly. “Yes, my parents and I have prayed for him.”

Devlin cut away a bit of lamb, dipped it in the creamy herbed mashed potatoes, and carried it to his mouth, pretending not to listen, but Reb's genuine sympathy made it hard for him to swallow.

“Lots o' folks have. But he ain't gettin' any better.” Cal shoved a huge portion of greens dripping with ketchup in his mouth and spoke around them. “He needs somebody to look after him. So come July, Ma an' Pa intend to pack up an' move to Rhoda.”

Reb paused in flaking the meat from the trout's bones. “For good?”

Cal nodded and took a bite of rice. A few grains dropped from the fork, bounced off his shirt front, and disappeared somewhere below the tabletop. “Ma'll inherit Grandpa's house an' all his household belongin's, an' she told Pa they won't have need for two houses, so Pa's handin' me the family cabin an' land. All twenty-two acres'll be mine.”

He paused long enough to break off the trout's crispy tail and pop it into his mouth. “It won't be long, an' I'll have a whole lot more to offer than I did the last time I asked to court you. I figure once your daddy knows what all I'm inheritin', he won't have no reason for opposition.”

A tiny smear of ketchup decorated his upper lip, giving his grin a lopsided appearance. “So, Rebekah, get ready for sparkin', 'cause I'm gonna be your beau.”

The lamb turned to sawdust in Devlin's mouth. He set aside his fork and dabbed his lips with the napkin. He forced a smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you had this conversation in private.” He dropped the napkin on the table and started to rise.

Rebekah held her hand out to him. “No, Devlin, don't go.”

The genuine begging in her eyes stilled his movements.

“Y-you haven't finished your meal.”

He wasn't sure he'd be able to take another bite. The ketchup swimming in Cal's plate combined with the unpleasant images of the clumsy hills man's hands circling Rebekah's slender form turned his stomach.

“And you might want to ask Cal about the cave on his father's land.”

Cal shot her a sharp look. “My land. It's my land, Rebekah.”

She gave a meek nod. “Of course.” She turned her pleading look on Devlin again. “So…stay. All right?”

She knew how to capture his attention. Devlin eased into the seat and draped his napkin across his knee again. He took up his fork and knife. “Tell me about your cave, Cal.”

The man shrugged. “Just a cave. Lots o' folks in these parts have holes on their property. Rebekah's pa's place has one, too, although the one at my place is—”

“There's a cave on your family's property?” Devlin gawked at Rebekah. At her slight nod he clapped his fork onto the table. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

Her fine eyebrows tipped together. “You didn't ask.”

He covered his eyes with his hand and groaned. Her family's property was so close to the cave estate. What if hers proved to be a new entrance point?

“It's just a small one, Devlin. A single cavern, actually more like a dome, where we grow mushrooms. I can't imagine it would interest you.”

He opened his eyes and met her puzzled gaze. “No tunnels leading farther into the earth?”

“No.”

Disappointment eased in, followed by a wave of relief he didn't understand.

Cal stabbed a chunk of trout. “Mine's deeper. Crack opens to a tunnel, an' the tunnel leads to a cavern. The cavern sprouts in three diff'rent directions. Used to go explorin' there until Andy died. Then my ma had a conniption fit if I even talked about goin' inside.”

Devlin frowned. The man wasn't making sense. “Who's Andy?”

Cal bobbed his head in Rebekah's direction. “Her brother.”

Rebekah's face drained of color. She stared at her plate, blinking rapidly.

Devlin's heart turned over. “He died?”

She nodded.

Cal said, “Been more'n two years ago now. Long time o' not goin' inside my cave.”

Devlin couldn't take his eyes away from Rebekah's sorrowful pose. She'd never mentioned a brother. Two years ago Cal had said, but her pain must still be raw. A silvery tear slipped down her face, reminding him of the raindrops sliding across the glass window. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “What happened to Andy?”

Her throat convulsed. She sucked in her lips. Another tear rolled.

Cal went on eating, seemingly unaware of his friend's distress. “Fool boy got himself lost in Mammoth Cave.”

Rebekah jerked to her feet. She sent a frantic glance across both of them and choked out, “P-please excuse me.” She darted from the table.

Cal gawked after her. “Rebekah? You ain't done eatin'.” But he didn't rise and follow her.

So Devlin did. She wove her way between tables, murmuring “excuse me” to other diners as she went, moving surprisingly fast for someone hindered by a full skirt and probably half blinded by tears. She was out the door before he made his way out of the dining room, but he found her the moment he stepped out on the boardwalk.

She huddled against the wall with her hands covering her face. Rain, carried by the breeze, fell at a slant and dotted the bottom half of her skirt. The pale pink fabric slowly darkened to the color of cooked salmon. His chest pinched. He wasn't her beau. He wasn't even sure he was her friend anymore after their heated disagreement. But he couldn't leave her alone in such distress.

He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. She continued to hide her face with her hands, but she leaned into his frame. Her body shuddered with silent sobs. Devlin rubbed his hands up and down her shoulder blades. “Go ahead and cry. It'll wash some of your pain away.”

“It'll never go away. Not until I—”

He waited, but she didn't finish her sentence. “Here now.” Gently he set her aside and pressed his handkerchief into her hand. Rain splatted against his back and speckled her clothes. Tears stained her face. She swiped at her cheeks, but new moisture spilled from her eyes, dampening them again. Her chin quivered.

Devlin wished he knew how to help. He'd always been powerless against women's tears, and not having experienced the loss of a sibling, he couldn't honestly say he understood her pain. But his heart ached for her.

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You told me about your sisters. Why didn't you ever tell me about your brother?”