DISCLAIMER:  The story and characters of Christy are
the property of the LeSourd family. This work of fan
fiction is for personal amusement only, and no
infringement of their rights is intended. The writer
seeks no profit or credit from this story. Any
additions of story line and characters were invented
by the writer.

Title:“Better Late than Never”
Author: Greer


****************


“Better Late than Never”


Part 1

        Neil tried to look at himself in the mirror.  He had
to stoop slightly and crane his neck at an awkward
angle to see his entire face.  He’d hung the glass
years ago at the perfect height for Margaret.  After
her death, he’d never bothered to raise it to
accommodate his taller frame.

        He pressed down his unruly hair with his fingers,
grimacing as the moment he removed his hands, the
curly strands popped out of place.  The hot bath water
had caused his hair stand on end.  Again he clamped
down on his head and again his curls moved the instant
he released them.  In frustration, he reached for his
comb, dipped it into the washbasin and ran it through
his hair.  It looked terrible.  He grunted in
frustration.  Of all days, he wanted it to be perfect
today.  He tried again – this time the result was
better.  It would have to do.  

        Temporarily satisfied, Neil glanced down at his
clothes.  He’d considered wearing his best suit but,
instead, had settled for a clean pair of corduroys and
a freshly pressed shirt.  He’d nearly put a hole in
that shirt trying to iron it and even so there were
far too many wrinkles.  He solved this latest problem
by tugging a bulky wool sweater over his head.

        Darn!  Now he’d messed up his hair.  He stared at the
clock on his dresser.  If he didn’t hurry, he’d be
late, and he couldn’t be tardy tonight.  He had to
look his best.  It was important to him but even more
important to Christy – or so he hoped.  He’d been
planning the details of this evening for some time. 
Would Christy be surprised?  Certainly she wouldn’t be
expecting what he’d planned.

        He straightened his sweater and gave his hair one
last look, then descended the stairs.

****

        Neil stared at the tiny square box, wrapped in
colorful paper and finished off with a small red bow. 
He’d found the paper in El Pano and wrapped it
himself.  He held the box up to the gas lamp and
studied it closely.  Maybe some of his surgical
precision had found its way to wrapping because he had
to admit that from every angle the small package was
exactly right.  

        A sharp knock at the cabin door broke his
concentration.  Neil frowned.  A part of him didn’t
want to answer; he still had much to do.  His eyes
roamed to the mantle clock.  There wasn’t much time
left.  

        Neil glanced out the window.  Snow continued to fall
lightly as it had for the past hour.  The ground
temperature had been warm and most of the snow had
stuck only to the trees.  But as the temperature
dropped, that had changed, and now nearly an inch of
the white powder coated the ground.  The pounding came
again.  

        He had to answer every knock.  That was the promise
he’d made to himself when he decided to practice in
Cutter Gap.  He forced the scowl from his face and
replaced it with an expression of interested concern. 
“I’m coming,” he called loudly.  Opening the door, he
looked into the eyes of John Holcombe, who stood on
the stoop brushing bits of snow from his jacket and
hat.

        Relief washed across John’s features.  “Doc!  Am I
glad to see you.”  

        “What’s wrong?”

        “It’s Sam Houston.  Tore his arm up real bad.”

I       Neil didn’t need to wait for the entire explanation.
 One look at the father’s worried face and he knew
that his plans would be delayed.  

****
Part 2

        Neil and John set a slow pace across the mountain. 
Snow continued to fall lightly and overcast clouds
blanketed the sun, turning the ground and horizon into
a continuous sea of gray.  Although there was only an
inch of new powder on the ground, last week’s snow had
crusted over and the icy mixture left the winding
trails especially slick.  More than once Charlie
almost lost his footing, and Neil had to grasp the
horse’s mane and dig his legs into its sides in order
to stay seated.  

        By the time he arrived at the Holcombe cabin, Neil
had a fair idea what to expect.  John had explained
that Sam Houston had been ferrying wood into the
cabin.  After working up a sweat, the boy had shed his
heavy coat.  He’d tried to carry too many logs at once
and dropped an entire load.  The pieces had slid along
his arm, their jagged edges tearing through his
sleeves.  

        As Neil dismounted, he could see the woodpile in the
distance, several loose logs dotting the ground
beneath the neatly stacked and snow-covered cords. 
Adjoining the cabin was a small area enclosed by a
wire pen.  Two small creatures scurried around.  On
closer inspection, Neil realized they were possums and
wondered whether Creed had loaned his pets to Sam
Houston or whether the animals would soon become
Christmas dinner.

        John held open the cabin door.  Inside, the Holcombe
home looked like many Neil had visited over the past
weeks.  A pine stood in the far corner, adorned by
paper ornaments that Neil suspected had been created
in Christy’s classroom.  The floor surrounding the
tree was bare and Neil knew that whatever presents the
family would share later that evening were in the five
stockings that hung from the chimney.  The older
Holcombe children, John junior and Lizette, stood away
from the entrance.

        All these things were noted in an instant as Neil
turned his attention to his young patient.  Sam
Houston was seated close to the fireplace, his arm
resting on the room’s only table.  His mother hovered
over him, holding a bloodied cloth over the wound.  

        Neil crossed to them in two strides and slid into the
chair opposite the young boy.  He carefully unwrapped
the makeshift bandage.  “I hear you’ve had an
accident.”  

        Elizabeth spoke up.  “I tried to press on it, like
Miz Alice shown us.”

        Neil briefly glanced up and offered the mother a
slight smile.  “You did fine.”  He peeled back the
cloth, keeping a sharp eye on the boy’s reaction.  Sam
Houston bit his lip and tears formed in his eyes, but
he didn’t cry out.  

        Neil made his evaluation quickly.  In addition to the
main gash that still oozed blood, small splinters were
imbedded throughout the boy’s forearm.  They would
need to be painstakingly removed, the wound would
require sutures, and the boy would need a tetanus
injection, but the injury wasn’t as serious as it
might have been.  He turned to Lizette.  “I’ll need
some boiling water for my instruments.  And some
regular water as well – to clean the wound.”  Without
waiting for the young woman’s reply, Neil turned back
to his patient.  “I’ll have to sew that up.”

        Sam Houston’s eyes opened wide and he tried to pull
his arm from the doctor’s grasp.  “With a needle? 
Will it hurt?”

        Neil reached into his saddlebags with his spare hand.
 “No.  That’s what this is for.”  He held out a bottle
and syringe.

        Neil went through the familiar routine of cleaning
and closing the wound.  The anesthetic had its desired
effect, and Sam Houston watched with fascination as he
worked.  Neil forced himself not to rush.  

        He tied his last suture then sneaked a glance at his
pocket watch.  If he hurried, he would still make it
more or less on time.  He gave Elizabeth instructions
about keeping the wound clean and dry and began
gathering up his instruments.  

        A loud cough echoed from the far side of the room. 
Elizabeth left her son’s side and approached Neil. 
“Doc, I was wonderin’ if ya might have a look at my
Lizette.  She’s been coughing somethin’ fierce fer
nigh on a week now.  Thought it was only the ague
comin’ on . . .”

        Their daughter had been ill for an entire week and no
one had sent for him?  Neil wanted to scream.  But he
also furious at himself.  He’d heard the girl’s
hacking cough from the minute he’d arrived but had
been so preoccupied with Sam Houston’s injury and his
desire to be on his way that he’d paid scant attention
to her obvious symptoms.  

        He nodded and scanned the one-room cabin, his eyes
finally settling on a bed in the far corner.  He
tilted his head toward it.  “Lizette, come over here. 
I’ll need to listen to your lungs.”  The two women
followed him while the John and his elder son remained
on the other side of the room, clustered around Sam
Houston.

        Neil sighed with relief after Lizette had taken only
a few breaths, as his experienced ears heard the
distinct rales of bronchitis.  A worrisome illness,
but not as dangerous as pneumonia or tuberculosis.  He
quickly concluded his examination and gave additional
instructions for Lizette’s care.  Finished, he nearly
sprinted down the steps.  

        The snow had abated, and only the tiniest flakes
drifted to the ground.  As he climbed up on Charlie,
John ran out of the cabin, yelling about payment.  

        Neil waved him off.  “I’ll stop by again tomorrow;
you can pay me then.”  He brought the horse around and
trotted off into the night.

****

        Neil smiled as he saw the first glimpse of the
schoolhouse in the distance.  Perched atop a small
crest, the brightly lit building stood out among the
surrounding trees.  At the sight of the lights, Neil’s
smile broadened.  Perhaps he’d make it after all.

        Normally, he would have cut across the meadow and
headed up the hill.  But in the dark he dared not risk
Charlie stumbling over some obstacle buried beneath
the snow.  He encouraged the horse forward on the
trail.

        The dim thud of hoofbeats warned Neil that another
rider was coming up from behind at a quick pace.  Neil
pulled Charlie toward the side of the path to let the
other man pass.  A grey horse whizzed by.  Then, only
yards in front of him, the rider brought his mount up
short.

        “Doc MacNeill?  Is that you?”  

        Even in the darkness, Neil recognized the young man
hailing him as Joshua Wilson.  He and his wife Eleanor
were distant cousins of the Allens who had recently
moved to the Cove to work in the family mill.

        Neil’s eyes fixated on the distant schoolhouse. 
“Yes.  Can I help you?”

        “I was goin’ fer Miz Alice.”

        Neil pulled his gaze back.  “She’s away from the Cove
for a few weeks.”

        Joshua wrung his hands even as he held onto his
horse’s reins.  “But she can’t be.  It’s Ellie’s time.
 Maybe Granny Barclay . . .  But I know Ellie wanted
Miz Alice . . .”

        Alice had discussed her obstetrical cases with Neil
before she’d left and he vaguely recalled her
mentioning something about Eleanor Wilson.  He racked
his brain trying to remember.  “I didn’t think the
baby was due for at least a month.”

        “It ain’t.  But she’s been having pains all day. 
Thinks it’s coming early.”

        Neil shook his head.  With a premature birth, he’d
need his obstetrical kit, and it was back at his
cabin.  He could always send Joshua to fetch it.  Neil
took a last glance at the schoolhouse, realizing that
all of his carefully laid plans were now ruined.  It
was not the first time this had happened and certainly
would not be the last.  He sighed.  “I’ll come with
you.”

        Joshua hesitated.  “I don’t know that Ellie be
wanting a man, though seeing as yer a doctor and all .
. .”

        Neil gave him a steely look, snatched Charlie’s
reins, and headed toward the Wilson cabin.

****
Part 3

        A crescent moon peered through the velvet darkness as
Neil pushed Charlie into a gallop for the last hundred
yards.  He dismounted and tied up his horse outside of
the schoolhouse.  The ice and snow crackled beneath
his feet as he made his way toward the building.

        His visit to the Wilson cabin had been less eventful
and time-consuming than he’d expected.  Eleanor was
not in labor.  The young, first-time mother had been
confused by pre-labor contractions.  After assuring
both future parents that the pregnancy was progressing
well, he’d again set off for the mission property.

        The schoolhouse appeared deserted, with only the
tiniest ray of light shining through the windows to
suggest that anyone might be inside.  He ran his
fingers through his hair and grimaced.  All the
preparation he’d done at the cabin so many hours ago
had been for naught.  After riding around the
mountains all night, he could only imagine how he
looked.  Neil pushed open the doors.

        A gas lamp lit the room with an eerie glow.  Christy
stood alone at the front, gently sweeping a broom
across the wooden floorboards.  She turned swiftly at
his entrance.  “Neil, what are you doing here?”

        He sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry, Christy.”  He
spread out his hands.  “I see I’ve missed it.”

        “Missed what?”

        “The Christmas Eve service.  Jeb and Fairlight told
me about it, that with David and Alice away, you were
leading the service tonight.  I wanted to be here.” 
He shook his head.  “And I would have been but Sam
Houston cut his arm and Lizette had bronchitis.  And
then Joshua—“

        “Oh no!  Are they all right?”

        Neil gave her a half smile as he strode down the
center aisle past the school benches that doubled as
pews.  He should have known that Christy’s first
thoughts would be for her students.  “Fine, all of
them.  But as you can see, I’m about two hours late. 
I’m sorry.  I only wish I-- , I wish I’d been here.”

        Christy rested the broom against the side of the
pulpit.  “Neil, it doesn’t matter that you’re late. 
Your patients needed you; I’m sure God understands. 
What’s important is that you wanted to come.”  Her
voice was filled with enthusiasm.  “To God’s house.”

        He stood in front of her.  “I came for you Christy,
not for God.”  His voice was soft.  “I knew how
important tonight was and I wanted to support you.”

        She smiled broadly.  “Neil, you came.  Whatever the
reason, God led you here tonight.”

        Christy seemed so pleased, not at all disappointed
that he’d failed to arrive in time for the service. 
His eyes crinkled and he held up his hands.  “I’ll not
argue with you, Christy.  Not tonight.”  The lamp
flickered.  “It’s late.  I’ll walk you back to the
mission.”  

        He helped Christy into her coat.  As she stepped
outside, Christy looked around in surprise.  “It
snowed.”

        “Only a bit.  But it’s slick.  Here, take my arm.” 
He expected an argument and was pleasantly surprised
when she reached for his sleeve without comment.  They
stepped onto the icy ground.  

        Neil unhitched Charlie, who followed them down the
hill.  “How did it go?  The service, I mean.”

        Words rushed from Christy’s mouth as she described
the carols, the readings, the excitement of adults and
children alike.  “I didn’t try to give a sermon. 
That’s David’s job; the Scripture was enough.  I think
everyone enjoyed it.”  

        “I’ve no doubt they did.”  

        Christy stumbled, and he reached one hand around her
waist to steady her.  Again he was surprised when she
didn’t object.

        She paused awkwardly at the door to the mission. 
“Would you like to come inside.  For some coffee, I
mean.  It’s cold and you’ve been riding—“

        “I’d love to.”

****
Part 4

        Neil slowly stirred his coffee.  Behind him, the
fireplace hissed and crackled as water from the damp
logs met the hot flame.  He relaxed in the wingback
chair, Christy stretched out on the sofa across from
him.  His carefully crafted plans had dissolved into
ruin, yet the evening was far from a total loss. 
Christy’s joy at seeing him at the church took the
edge off his regret in missing her service.  Perhaps
it was better this way, a few moments spent alone with
her in quiet conversation.  

        They both gazed at the Christmas tree that was the
focal point of the parlor.  Neil noted the crude
homemade ornaments that the children had obviously
presented to their teacher.  There were a few others
that appeared to be store bought, and Neil wondered if
Christy had brought them from Asheville.  His eyes
dropped to the assortment of presents clustered under
the lowest branches.  “Are the presents all for you?”

        She blushed slightly.  “Of course not.  There are
some for David and Miss Alice when they return, and
for Ruby Mae.”

        “Where is the girl, by the way?”

        “Upstairs.  I think she had a few last minute
presents to wrap.”

        “Are you going to open yours?” he asked.

        “Presents?”

        He nodded.

        “Well, yes.  I guess I should.”  Christy edged
forward on the sofa and reached for the closest gift. 
She turned back without picking it up.  “It just seems
strange, not being with my parents for Christmas.”

        “Why didn’t you go home?”  Neil saw a brief look of
hurt cross Christy’s face and almost literally bit his
tongue.  “I’m sorry, I had no right to ask.”

        She shrugged.  “It’s all right.  I went home last
year.  I suppose I thought it would be nice to be here
with David and Miss Alice but then they left . . .”
her voice trailed off.  “Maybe I was trying to be all
grown up, show my parents I can handle being away.”

        “You showed them that a long time ago.”  

        She appeared not to hear him.  “Nights like tonight,
I miss them.  But I suppose it’s no different for you.
 You have no one.”

        Christy was right.  For him, Christmas was no
different than the day before or after.  Invariably a
few medical emergencies called him across the Cove, he
might open a gift or two from grateful patients, and
on occasion he’d accept an invitation from one of his
neighbors for Christmas dinner.  But the day itself
had never seemed special.  Until now.   

        “Right now, I have you.”  He embarrassed himself with
his comment and quickly nodded at the present in her
hand.  “Open it.”

        As Neil watched Christy unwrap one present after
another, he began to doubt her claim that all of the
gifts under the tree were not hers.  From the oddly
shaped boxes she pulled an assortment of clothing,
books, school supplies, as well as some home cooked
sweets from Julia Huddleston.  Christy exclaimed over
each item, and Neil sensed that some of her sadness
was ebbing.  She reached for one of the few remaining
gifts under the tree and handed it to him.  “This is
for you.”

        “For me?”

        “Yes.  Merry Christmas.”

        He awkwardly fumbled with the wrappings until he’d
produced a small oblong box.  When he pulled out the
contents, he found himself chuckling.  “A hairbrush! 
Are you trying to tell me something, Miss Huddleston?”
 He tentatively drew it through his tangled curls.

        Christy joined him in laughter.  “Not at all,
Doctor.”

        “I shall endeavor to use it often.  Thank you,
Christy.”  He gave her a thoughtful look.  “I mean
that.”

        Christy met his gaze, then scrambled to pick up the
shreds of torn paper.  “That’s it.  No more presents.”

        He felt the small box in his breast pocket.  “Not
quite.”

        Christy’s glance was a wordless question.

        Neil withdrew the small, colorfully wrapped gift,
smiling as he placed it in her hands.  “Merry
Christmas, Christy.”

        Her blue eyes glistened as they met his.  “Neil, I
don’t know what to say.  Thank you.”

        “Don’t thank me until you open it.”

        Her delicate fingers carefully removed the bow and
slit open the paper.  He held his breath as she
propped open the box on its hinges.  Her eyes widened
as she stared from the box to him and then back to the
box.

        “Well, do you like it?”  

        Christy smiled broadly as she gazed at the oval blue
and white pin in the palm of her hand.  “A cameo!  Oh
Neil, it’s beautiful.”  She drew out the syllables of
the last word.

        “Do you really like it?”  

        “I love it.  But you shouldn’t have.  I know that you
need money for medical supplies—“

        “Hush now.  I just wanted you to have something
special to remind you of your first Christmas in the
Cove.”

        “How could I ever forget?”  For a moment, they shared
an embarrassed silence.  Then Neil stood up.  “I’d
best be going.  It’s late and I need to get some sleep
tonight.  I’ve no doubt that the merriment of
Christmas morning will lead to some minor calamity
that requires my attention.”

        Christy walked with him toward the door.  “Thank you,
Neil.  For everything.”

        Neil slipped his coat over his shoulders and started
to pull on his gloves.  Before he could reply, they
both heard another sound in the room.

        “Ahem!”

        He and Christy turned toward the voice with a start. 
Ruby Mae stood halfway down the banister, an evil grin
on her face.

        Christy spoke first.  “Yes, Ruby Mae.  What is it?”

        The girl's voice took on a sing-song tone.  “Look
what’s above you.”  Her eyes drifted toward the
ceiling; Neil and Christy followed her gaze.  Affixed
to the rafters over their head was a small piece of
mistletoe.

        Christy gave her student an indignant look.  “Ruby
Mae, what have you done?”  Neil struggled
unsuccessfully to repress a smile.
        
        “It’s mistletoe, Miz Christy.  And you and the Doc
are standing ‘neath it.  You know what that means.” 
Her grin expanded.

        Christy again started to berate her pupil when Neil
grabbed her lightly around the waist.  “It is
tradition, Miss Huddleston.”

        Ignoring the expression of shock that crossed her
features, he caressed her face in his hands.  Her
trusting eyes met his as he tipped his head toward
her.  “Merry Christmas, Christy.”

The End.