Guide Me Home Read Free

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
    B efore 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