Guide Me Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

no higher than Daddy’s knees were all still up there, untouched, a silent testimony that at one time a boy had lived there.
    Another slice of lightning flashed through the open windows, and a rattling crash of thunder chased it. The sound jolted Rebekah forward. She rose on tiptoes again, pushing the heels of her hands against the ladder’s rail. The ladder flipped from the nails and clattered to the floor. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she snagged the end and propped it against the opening carved in the ceiling to give access to the loft. Then, her heart pounding harder than the raindrops that pelted the roof, she gripped her skirt in one hand and climbed upward on trembling legs.
    Her head and shoulders entered the dark, airless space. She paused, shivering, waiting for her eyes to adjust enough to find what she wanted. If Daddy or Mama were here, they’d screech at her in protest. But they weren’t here. She could enter Andy’s private space, open his trunk, gather up some of his clothes, use them to— Her thoughts froze, her pulse pounding. Could she really wear her dead brother’s clothes?
    Wind shrieked. Lightning crashed. Thunder boomed. Nature itself seemed to scream at her to make up her mind. Lyle’s comment—
“Guides are men”
—swooped through her mind, followed by Mr. Cooper’s apologetic reply:
“There aren’t any jobs open right now for a young lady.”
She had no choice. If she wanted the job, she’d have to be a man. Or, at the very least, make them think she was a man.
    She scrambled into the loft and eased her way across the rafters on her hands and knees to the trunk tucked beneath the eaves. She squeaked it out far enough to lift the lid. Tears flooded her eyes when she reached inside and encountered Andy’s shirts, britches, boots. With a vicious swipe of her hand, she removed the tears and then rolled the clothes around the boots. Then, cradling the wad against her aching chest with one arm, she inched her way backward and crawled down the ladder.
    Her feet met the floor. Her entire body shook—from fear, from excitement, or from guilt? Maybe all three. She scampered to the bedroom and shoved the clothes under the mattress on her side of the bed. They created a lump, but hopefully Cissy wouldn’t notice if the shutters were closed and the room stayed dark.
    As she left the bedroom, something brought her to a halt. She tipped her head, pondering what was different. Oh, yes. It was quiet. The storm had blown over. Daddy, Mama, and the littlest girls would come home now. She pulled the ladder from the opening and, after three tries, secured it on the nails again. She winced, realizing how many of the cobwebs she’d knocked loose. She hoped nobody noticed.
    A fresh scent flooded the cabin. She turned, and her bare toes met a band of sunlight that flowed across the floor from the open door. A smile—a genuine, thankful smile—pulled at her lips. It was as if God Almighty Himself brought the rainstorm to keep her folks away long enough for her to retrieve those things from Andy’s room. The sun felt like His approval.
    She stepped to the edge of the porch, aimed her smile at the sky, and whispered, “Thank You.”

Cissy
    T he family gathered around the table for supper. Mama came last, carrying a platter of cornbread. Cissy sighed. Cornbread. Again. They should have cornstalks growing out of their ears with all the cornbread they planted in their bellies.
    “Let’s pray,” Daddy said, and he bowed his head.
    Cissy folded her hands and rolled her gaze to the ceiling, holding back a sigh, while Daddy thanked the Lord for the refreshing rain and for the fine supper Mama had prepared. Fine supper? Cissy wrinkled her nose. The pot in the middle of the table was full of black-eyed peas. Black-eyed peas smelled bad—like old tar—and they tasted like dirt. If her stomach hadn’t been growling for the past two hours, she’d skip supper and go pore over the photographs in