Guide Me Home (36 page)

Mutters and the shuffle of feet on the floor sounded.

Preacher Haynes turned a glare on Orval Spencer, who still stood with his fists clenched and the back of his neck as red as ripe cherries. “Orval, sit down before you give yourself apoplexy.” When Orval plopped into the pew, the preacher put his arm on Devlin's shoulders and offered a weak smile. “Sure am sorry if we all scared you, son. Guess you now know, folks in these parts have some fiery spirits.”

Devlin nodded weakly. His shoulders sagged and weariness etched his face.

“Now that we're all good an' awake”—the preacher chuckled—“we'll let Devlin have a seat, an' we'll get the service started.”

Devlin stepped off the platform and hurried to the back pew, flicking uncertain glances back and forth as he went. Rebekah tried to catch his eye to give him a smile of encouragement, but he looked past her. Disappointed, she settled Little Nellie beside her and focused on Preacher Haynes.

“Gonna sing a hymn, but before we do, I've got somethin' to say, an' I want every person in this room—you, too, Devlin—to listen close.” Fervor gleamed in the preacher's eyes. “If Devlin comes to your door, you give him a welcoming handshake and a respectful ear. You don't have to sell your land if you don't want to, but if I hear tell of even one of you aimin' a shotgun at him or otherwise bringin' him harm, you can expect to face my wrath an' discipline. We're Christians. Christians do what Jesus commanded, to love your neighbor the way you love yourself.”

Orval Spencer muttered, “That college boy ain't my neighbor.”

Preacher Haynes whirled on the man, his expression so stern Little Nellie latched on to Rebekah again. “Every person who crosses your path, whether family, friend, or foe, is your neighbor, Brother Spencer, an' you'll do well to remember it.”

As quickly as it flared, the preacher's vehemence faded. A smile broke across his face, and he bounced his hands, encouraging everyone to stand. “Sing now. ‘Immortal, invisible, God only wise…' ”

Softly at first, then with growing volume, the people added their voices to the preacher's. Rebekah sang, too, but the words and melody fought their way past a knot in her throat. Devlin meant well. She understood that. But if he persisted with his plans, he might very well tear the hollow apart.

Cissy

“
S
ee? I toldja this was a good spot to be alone.”

Cissy tossed another mushroom into the basket and then peeked over the rim. Half-full already. She'd better slow down. Mama told her to come back to the house when she'd filled it, and she wasn't ready to say good-bye to Nick.

They'd been in her family's cave for more than an hour, and not a soul had come around. The lantern in the middle of the dirt floor sent a soft yellow glow in all directions. Little plump shadows from the mushrooms fell toward the walls, and Cissy's and Nick's shadows—sometimes short and squatty, other times long and thin, depending on how close or far they were from the lantern—moved around the walls like dancers.

Nick had spent his time prowling the small cave, poking at the wall with his penknife, knocking mushrooms loose from their hold, and kicking at rocks. He leaned against an outcropping and shrugged. “Yes, it's private, but it isn't very interesting. This isn't much of a cave compared to Mammoth Cave.”

Cissy's clothes weren't much compared to his cousins' wardrobe. Her house wasn't much compared to the hotel. And now her cave wasn't much, either. She balled her fists on her hips. “Well, la-di-da.” She imitated Real and Reflection. “I'm sorry it's not much. But I didn't think you came out here to see the cave. Thought you came to see me. Ain't I interestin' enough for ya?”

A grin pulled one side of his lips higher than the other. She loved the way his eyes lit up when he grinned that funny, crooked way. He scuffed toward her, his shadow growing longer and wider on the wall behind him and swallowing hers up. He came so close she had to tip her head back to look into his green eyes.

“You're interesting,” he said.

She swallowed, hoping. “Enough?”

He nodded.

She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. “I'm glad.”

He eased his hands onto her waist. He glanced out the cave opening and then looked into her eyes again. He licked his lips. “May I kiss you, Cissy?”

She angled her cheek to him.

He shook his head. “Huh-uh. On your mouth.”

Heat flooded her. She pushed loose and flounced away, dividing their shadows. “My daddy would skin me. An' then he'd skin you.”

“How would he know?”

He wouldn't unless she told. And she wouldn't tell. Even so, her insides went all trembly thinking about letting Nick's lips touch hers. She picked two mushrooms and lobbed them into the basket. “It ain't proper to kiss on the mouth until you're pledged.” She reached for another mushroom.

He ambled up behind her. “Who told you that?”

She flicked a frown at him. “Nobody told me. I just know.” She gave the mushroom a toss. It hit the rim of the basket and rolled across the ground. She huffed and started toward it.

Nick caught her arm and turned her to face him. “It's not true, you know. That you have to be…pledged…before kissing on the mouth. I've never been pledged, and I've kissed two girls already.”

Her chest went tight. “What girls?”

He shrugged. “Just girls from my school.”

“Must be real tarts if they let you kiss 'em.”

He laughed. “They aren't tarts.”

She gave him a look meant to say,
Yes, they are.

He shook his head, sighing. “They're my friends, Cissy. Sometimes friends…kiss.” His thumb moved up and down the inside of her arm. “Have you ever kissed anybody?”

His touch tickled. “No.”

“Kissing's fun. I could show you.”

She giggled and squirmed free. Her shadow made a funny twirl on the wall. “Huh-uh.”

“Why not? Because you're worried I'll think you're a tart?”

Because she didn't know how to do it. He'd kissed two other girls. What if her kissing wasn't as good? She flounced to the opposite side of the cave, folded her arms, and stared at her shadow.

Scuff, scuff
—his feet crossing the floor. His shadow loomed up and covered hers. She shivered as he slid his hands around her upper arms and pulled her firm against his frame. His cheek tipped against her temple, and her heart started thumping so hard she worried the photograph might get pushed out of her dress.

“Cissy?” His breath was warm on her cheek.

She kept staring at the big, gray, swelling shadow. “Wh-what?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

She wanted it, too, but fear of disappointing him made her whole body stiff. She couldn't move.

“Cissy?”

Should she let him kiss her? Just once to know how it felt? Pansy and Burrel had probably kissed by now. And she'd seen Devlin give Bek that kiss on the cheek. Maybe Bek had let him kiss her mouth some other time when nobody was around. The men and women in the magazine serials kissed. Usually right after the man told the woman he loved her.

Cissy jerked free. She whirled around. With the lantern behind him she couldn't see his face very well, but she blurted to his shadowy form, “Do you love me, Nick?”

He didn't answer.

She hung her head, defeated.

Then he took her hand. “Come here, Cissy.” He led her to the farthest corner of the cave, away from the opening, away from the lantern, away from the moist places where the mushrooms grew. With every step toward the dark corner, her pulse pounded harder, faster. Then he stopped and let go of her hand. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her sideways facing him.

Her breath came so quick and shallow she thought she would faint.
He's gonna do it. He's gonna kiss me.
But instead he moved backward, away from her. The slightest bit of lantern light flowed between them.

He held his hand toward the wall. “Look.”

Confused, she tore her gaze from his face and looked. Her heart banged around inside her chest. She clapped her hand over her mouth. There on the wall deeply carved, crooked letters made a proclamation.

NICK LOVES SISSY

A laugh built behind her hand. So that's what he'd been doing over here while she picked mushrooms.

He said, “Can you read it?”

She nodded.

He aimed that crooked, eye-lighting grin at her. “What do you think?”

The laugh came out. “I think you need to learn how to spell my name.”

His eyebrows shot up. He looked at the wall and then at her.

“Cissy starts with a
C.
” She held out her hands and he took hold. The shadow of their arms underlined the wonderful words. “But it don't matter. I know it's me.” She moved closer, and “Nick loves Sissy” got covered up by their combined shadow. “You know what else I think?”

“What?”

“It'll be all right for you to kiss me now.”

Devlin

Was there a more soothing sound than gently moving water? Devlin didn't believe so. He reclined on a pack, linked his hands over his belly, closed his eyes, and listened.

A faint, irregular
drip-drip
echoed from somewhere ahead, accenting the rhythmic hum of the canoe's nose plowing slowly through the stream and the steady slice of Tolly's oars cutting through water. Behind him a second canoe powered by Lee offered harmony to the sweet melody.

“Devlin, look.”

Tolly whispered rather than shouted, but his voice intruded on the cave's song. Devlin frowned, unwilling to break the magic weaving itself around him.

“You's gonna miss 'em if you don' look.”

Devlin opened his eyes. The lantern swinging from a hook at the front of the narrow craft highlighted Tolly's grin. The man angled the oars in the water, holding their position, and bobbed his head toward the stream.

“Most I ever seen of 'em. You seen anything like that befo', Mistuh College Boy?”

Devlin rested his fingers on the edge of the canoe and peered overboard. Dozens of fish no larger than his middle finger swam in an intricate ballet. He stared in open-mouthed amazement.

Lee's canoe glided up alongside theirs, and the fish frantically darted beneath the rock shelf at the edge of the stream.

Devlin scowled at the man. “You frightened the fish.” He looked longingly toward the place they'd disappeared. He wished he could have caught one and taken it home to show Father.

Lee shrugged. “Sorry, Devlin. I'm goin' on ahead, Tolly. Meetcha at the rock bank.”

Tolly waved him on. “That's fine.”

Devlin swung one arm toward the rock shelf. “Were the fish white?”

Tolly laughed softly. “ 'Course they's white. Jus' like the crickets an' spiduhs climbin' aroun' in the cave. You look hard enough down here in the watuh, you'll find white crawfish, too.” He took up the oars again and drew them through the water.

Devlin shook his head, imagining the graceful weaving of the little fish through the water. “Why are they white?”

“Why shouldn't they be? Got no cause fo' coluh down here where it's always dark. As fo' them fish, they're blind, too, in case you di'n't notice. Don't even got eyes fo' seein'. Scientists speculate the fishes had eyes a long time ago, but since they di'n't use 'em, their eyes went away.” He snorted. “If you ask me, the almighty Creatuh made 'em that way since He knowed they'd spend their lives in the dark an' would have no need fo' seein'.”

The man sighed, the release holding the weight of regret. “I've spent some time in this cave wit' no torch or lantern lit. Only black all aroun'. An' it's a lonely feelin', I can tell you. Like you's the only one in the whole world.”

He sliced the water again, and the canoe glided forward. “Now I ain't sayin' nothin' bad 'bout folks who spend their lives without seein'.” Slice. “There is blind people, you know.” Slice. “But them people don't live all alone. They got othuhs around 'em, talkin' to 'em, touchin' 'em.” Slice. “That ain't the way it is down here.” Slice. “Down here you's all by yo'self in the dark, not a solitary soul to hear yo' voice or speak yo' name.” Slice. “I'm tellin' you, Devlin, that's as lonely as lonely can be.”